FIC Quiet Time
3/8/10 23:17![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shanachie_quillTitle: Quiet Time
Characters: Eliot Spencer (and the rest of the Leverage crew)
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: How does the Leverage team’s muscle spend his down time?
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Private time for Eliot, he’s a guy so draw your own conclusions
Disclaimer: No one from Leverage actually belongs to me
Author's Note: So this was supposed to be a birthday present for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elebridith …um…well…fail…since her birthday was in March. But I come bearing a gift anyway and hopefully since I’ve been giving her periodic updates anyway and she knows that it’s coming, she’ll accept it. I couldn’t have done this without kaitlia777 who helped me with food (since it’s Eliot) and without the attention of my girls serenelystrange and starhawk_writes . Oh and the original prompt was “Eliot, cooking”. I think it kinda took off. Enjoy! And if you want to see the place Eliot's house is based on.
“Good morning, Eliot. To what horrible problem do I owe the honor of a call this time?”
Sophie’s cultured voice brought a slight smile to Eliot’s face as he eased his Rubicon into Boston’s traffic. “Do I need a problem to call you, Sophie?” he asked.
“Well, that is normally the reason,” she pointed out and he could almost picture her lounging on a settee as she cradled the phone, her other hand idly playing with a strand of hair.
“No problem this time. I was just calling to say hello,” he assured her. “Where are ya now?”
“You know what they say ‘if it’s Tuesday it must be Uzbekistan’,” she replied easily.
“It’s not Tuesday, Soph,” he reminded her.
“I can’t tell you where I am, Eliot, it defeats the purpose of me getting away. And yes I know, if you really wanted, Hardison could find me in a heartbeat, but I appreciate you giving me a chance to do what I need to do.”
“But you’re safe?” He pressed. “You aren’t in danger? You aren’t running any cons without us there to back you up?”
“Eliot, you do realize I took care of myself for many years before you came along.”
He smiled as he realized it wasn’t even a question. “A course, Soph.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he stopped at a traffic light. “But you’ve gotten used to having us watch your back.”
“I’m fine, Eliot. I promise. Not running any grifts at all. Now what was the real reason for your call?”
He put the Jeep into park behind their building and leaned back in to seat to finish the call. “That really was my reason. I’m going off grid for a little bit and I wanted to make sure you were all right before I did it.”
Sophie’s voice got softer. “Are you all right? Everything okay?”
“I just need to re-charge. Need more than my typical amount of sleep and some downtime. I’m checking on the others and then dropping outta sight for about forty-eight hours.”
“You would tell me if it was something else, right?” Sophie questioned. “We do have that much trust?”
“Yeah, Soph, we’re good. I really am fine,” he assured her. “You coming home soon?”
“I’ll be home when you all need me the most. Give Parker and Hardison my love.”
“I will, Sophie,” he replied. “I will,” he murmured as she hung up.
Swinging out of the Jeep, he made sure it was locked and secured before walking away without a backwards glance. It would be fine for the time he planned to be gone; checking on the rest of the team. Slipping in the fire exit, he moved swiftly up the stairs to the second floor and let himself into Nate’s apartment.
The apartment was dark, lit only by the ambient lights from outside that streamed in through the uncovered windows. Eliot glanced around the apartment, checking to be sure everything was turned off, before moving towards the living room and discovering Nate, sprawled out on the couch. At first he thought the older man had fallen asleep there until he got close enough to smell the alcohol rising off him in almost visible fumes. He considered what he wanted to do, if he actually wanted to leave Nate in this state, but he doubted the man would drink himself to death in the next few hours.
Moving almost silently, he picked up the tumbler that sat on the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen, dumping what was left of the contents down the drain. Rinsing the glass, he placed it in the drainer before ditching the rest of the bottle and swiftly searching the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he was laying a blanket over the sleeping man and leaving the apartment; the last of his preparations there done.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Eliot made his way to the top floor. Tilting his face up so the camera mounted by the door could see it, he waited for a count of ten before exiting the stairwell. The door clicked open and he entered the hallway, moving down it to the penthouse opening. Knocking once, he twisted the knob, shaking his head when it opened easily under his grip. “You know I could be anyone,” he commented as he entered the open area that was dominated by a flat screen television.
“I knew it was you,” Hardison replied, not looking away from the screen. He jerked his elbow at the computer by his side. “Security feeds. We would have locked the door if it wasn’t.”
“And gone out the window,” Parker added, spinning around but not losing her perch on the couch so she faced him. “Do you have something for us to do?”
“No, Parker,” Eliot replied, glancing at the television. “What’s that?”
Parker bounced a bit, Hardison reaching out to steady her without looking. “We’re playing World of Warcraft,” she explained. “I’m a thief! But she’s not as good as me.”
“Well, a course she’s not because they don’t have ya know you to consult when they’re making her and I can’t hack the server and make her better because they’d wonder how we knew all these things and it’s just a game…and…we…ya know,” Hardison’s babble trailed off as both Eliot and Parker looked at him in confusion. “So it’s not just a game, but no one is as good a thief as you, Parker,” he mumbled.
She smiled sunnily at him before turning her attention to Eliot again. “Hardison’s teaching me how to play.”
“That’s good.” He leaned against the pillar in the middle of the room, absently checking the room as he watched her. “Are you two good for the next few days? Be all right if I drop off the grid?”
Hardison turned, his words making a dent in the hacker’s world. “Everything okay, man?”
“Yeah, I just need to recharge,” Eliot assured him. “I’m headed out to my place. Give me about forty-eight hours and then come on out?” he suggested.
Parker tilted upside down and grinned at him. “Food?” she asked eagerly.
“Yeah, Parker, food,” he answered her. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he flipped it over and tossed it to Hardison, who fumbled but caught it after a second. “Hang on to that, Hardison, and bring it with ya when you two head out?”
“Yeah, sure. But how are we gonna get a hold of you if we need you?” Hardison asked as he pocked the phone.
“There’s a landline out at the house. Number’s in my cell. Only use it in an emergency. Like I said forty-eight hours.” He looked them over one last time before slipping back out the door.
Back down in the alley, he scouted around the jeep before swinging into the driver’s seat. Without a backwards glance, he pointed the vehicle towards the edge of town and freedom for forty-eight hours.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was his job to take hits for his team. To take the punishment and the beatings so they didn’t have to. To run interference and to keep them safe. As he’d told Hardison, it’s what he did. Sometimes he needed a break though. He trusted the team enough that they would be okay if he dropped out of touch for a bit, they’d be all right and even though he told Hardison about the landline, he was sure the computer geek would find another way to get in touch with him. Of course he had no way to know if his Rubicon was or wasn’t tagged, but knowing the younger man—it more than likely was. And they all knew where to meet him when the time he’d given them was up. Hardison and Parker would decide whether or not to bring Tara along; if it was safe to bring her along.
His land was just over an hour from Boston, tucked away down a private road with no markers. There had been No Trespassing signs when he’d purchased it (through an ID that not even Hardison had discovered), but he’d torn them down on his first visit—the last thing he wanted to do was advertise his presence. The gate about a quarter mile in had not only a sixteen digit code, but he changed it each time he left, making it even harder to break. He stopped the Jeep, leaning out to input the code and waiting as the gate swung open.
Ten minutes later he was pulling to a stop in front of a house that was a lot grander than anything he normally would have purchased. He hadn’t been looking at the house when he’d made the purchase sight unseen though; he’d been looking at the almost 200 acres of secluded land. In the year plus that they’d been based in Boston, he’d had some time to come out and change things. Everything had been fixed up and the barn was ready for occupants whenever he finally decided he would settle down for good. He wasn’t positive that this was where he would retire; he’d always figured that would be Kentucky, but this would be a good place if it was the decision he made.
Meanwhile he didn’t want hired hands trooping around his safe house, he’d only recently begun letting the team come out here so he hadn’t even looked into stock and the few crops he’d planted were ones he could leave for weeks at a time. His main garden was much closer to Boston and their headquarters so he had a steady supply of food when he wanted it.
He spent a few minutes wandering through the small field that was set up near the house, just checking things over, making sure there wasn’t anything that needed his immediate attention before grabbing his duffle out of the box in the back of his truck and heading into the house. He could already feel the tension easing as he stepped onto the porch and he saw that nothing had been disturbed since his last visit. He shifted the duffle to his off-hand and undid the locks on his door, smiling as he tapped the code into the keypad. He hadn’t wanted the electronics when Hardison had first offered them, but had to admit they were a nice touch.
The duffle got tossed aside when he entered the main room and he paused to use the jack to pull his boots off. Normally he didn’t bother with one, but here at the house it was part of the ambiance. Besides it reminded him not to mark up the hardwood floors with his heels. He smiled as he realized he didn’t really need the reminder, but it was comfortable anyway and he liked it.
Glancing at the bag, he decided he could live with the mess and moved towards the stairs, fingers going to his shirt. By the time he reached the top of the steps, he had removed all of his upper layers (and actually left them strewn in his wake) and unbuttoned his jeans. He kicked off the heavy-weight denim as he reached the front bedroom, pausing to look out the windows. For a few minutes, he stood in the light that cascaded through the glass; enjoying the warmth and pleasure he got from standing there.
Turning away, he paused to draw the curtains before leaving the room. It would be too obvious for him to sleep in the master bed room and he never truly relaxed there. Instead he had a tiny alcove tucked away that was just big enough for a bed. Five minutes after he landed face up on it, he was sound asleep.
* * * * * * * * *
His eyes snapped open sometime later, instantly awake. He knew how many hours he’d slept, but he ignored his time sense as he got to his feet and padded down to the basement. Down there he had a gym, more complete than one that could be found on any street. It was stocked with every conceivable weapon, except firearms, plus a few that weren’t easily recognizable as weapons. From in here, he could easily start or stop a revolution or a coup and defend the people he considered his family. He kept his houseboat stocked from here; running up when he needed to or using items from his various contacts to help with the team’s cons. He knew they sometimes wondered how he did the things he did, but he’d been a bad man once upon a time, even if before that he’d been a good man who did bad things for his country.
Sometimes he had a hard time remembering if they were the same person. Or if he was still that person.
He snagged a pair of shorts from the bamboo dresser by the door and stripped off his boxer briefs, pulling the shorts on. He dumped the underwear by the door, making a mental note to take it upstairs with him when he left and to throw all his clothes into the washer before the team arrived.
Moving cautiously to the center of the room, he knelt down centering himself as he attained the position. His mind settled itself into meditation patterns as his body fell into the familiar placement. His thoughts turned inward as he blanked his memories. Sometimes he just didn’t want to remember anything.
* * * * * * * * *
Eliot rose to his feet, moving smoothly from his kneeling meditative position into a kata. When he fought, it was vicious, brutal. Fast and furious and over as quickly as he could make it. He rarely took the time to worry about form or beauty, but put his opponent down. If he was injured, he fought through or around the pain. His job was to protect the team—to make sure they could do their jobs and to keep them from getting hurt.
As he’d told Hardison, that’s what he did.
But here and now, he moved through the forms, letting his mind go into the quiet place where nothing existed except his body and the way it moved.
When he stopped, he wasn’t breathing heavily, but his body was drenched in sweat; his shorts riding low on his hips. He panted lightly, expanding his lungs to make sure he got enough oxygen. Picking up a towel, he wiped the sweat from his body before gathering his scattered clothes and entering the laundry room.
* * * * * * * * *
He stripped down and rinsed off in the small shower in the laundry room before grabbing jeans and a t-shirt from the clothes stored there. He sat down on the bench outside the door, pulling on his dirty boots and lacing them up. Unlike the ones he’d worn out to the house, these were the ones he wore only here and only to work outside.
Eliot moved smoothly through the fields, checking on the progress of his crops. He allowed most of them to grow as they willed. He didn’t have the time or the energy to devote the care they truly needed, but he’d found that leaving them be produced a surprising amount of produce even if he sometimes had to take a machete to his garden.
He harvested what he’d need for dinner; throwing it into a basket that was near-by. Soon he had a good sized harvest of onions, okra, chard, carrots, rhubarb, and sweet potatoes. He added a few regular potatoes before getting to his feet and brushing the dirt off his hands on his jeans. Hefting the basket up, he carried it into the house, dumping the produce into the sink to soak.
* * * * * * * * *
Rising his hands off in the sink, Eliot checked the produce and pulled the greens out before washing his hands with soap in a secondary sink. He took out a cloth, laying it across the granite top of his island before spreading his knives and cleaning supplies across it.
He tested each blade, setting them in piles. Some needed to be sharpened or ground before he cleaned them. Stopping them against the whetstone, he honed the edges until he was sure they were the prefect cut and would serve him well. Wiping them down with cotton cloths, he picked up a second cloth and carefully oiled each knife. Twirling them with a smile as he finished with each blade, he checked balances and grips before storing them away again.
Some went into cases to travel back to his house or Nate’s, to be stored in his truck or Hardison’s van. Others were slipped back into their sheaths in the rooms in his home. Finally he slid his boot knives into place.
One last check of the security system and then he climbed the stairs again.
* * * * * * * * *
He knew he had a limited amount of time before the rest of the team got there and he desperately wanted a shower before he started dinner. He’d promised Parker and Hardison food, which meant they’d show up more than hungry. Sometimes he was amazed he didn’t have the two of them at his place every night looking for food, but he tended to cook dinner a few times a week at Nate’s and that seemed to satisfy them. The first few times, he’d stuck to pretty easy and normal dishes, but he’d soon realized that the little Hoovers would eat anything he placed in front of them…as long as they weren’t required to cook it first. He’d even started to bully them into cleaning up or at least loading the dishwasher after they ate. No one touched his pots and pans.
He dropped a towel on the floor in his bathroom, stripping his dirty clothes off while standing on it so he didn’t scatter dirt all over. Gathering up the corners, he dumped everything into the hamper before turning on the water. As he waited for steam to fill the room, he pulled the rubber band out of his hair, running his fingers roughly through it. Carefully he untangled the beads he’d braided into his hair, dropping them one by one into the small dish on the sink edge. He paused for a moment, running his fingers through the smooth beads before stretching and stepping into the shower.
Pulling the glass door shut behind him, he ducked his head under the water, wetting down his hair. For just a moment, he enjoyed the feel of the water beating down on his head before he grabbed his shampoo bottle, then quickly lathered up his hair. Tipping his head back, he allowed the flow to rinse the soap as he ran his hands down his firm body.
Reaching for his cock, he groaned softly as it hardened beneath his fingers. He stroked it softly for a moment before coming to a decision. Bracing his left hand against the wall, he gripped himself more firmly. A couple more strokes brought him to full hardness and he slowed down for a second, running a nail down the length of his cock. He growled at the feeling before loosely gripping himself and flicking a finger over the head.
He’d like to tease himself for a little while, but he just didn’t have the time right now. Sliding his hand back down, he picked up the pace, closing his eyes and firming his grip. His breathing picked up as he slid his hands up and down, squeezing as he got near the head. After a few minutes, he added a slight twist, feeling the tension build as he moved his hand faster, pulled a little harder. A tingling at the base of his spine signaled the beginnings and he braced his knees, clenching his teeth to hold his roar inside as he erupted.
Panting lightly, he leaned his head against the wall for a moment before pushing backwards and quickly rising himself off. He’d taken more time than he’d planned and he needed to get dinner started. Grabbing the washcloth, he quickly soaped down before rinsing off again.
Stepping out of the shower, he quickly dried off before throwing the towel in the laundry basket. Padding down the hall, he entered his room. Quickly he retrieved a pair of button-fly jeans and pulled them on, leaving them undone as he searched for a t-shirt. Finally finding a blue one, he pulled it on, tucking it into the jeans before buttoning them up. Grabbing a brush, he ran it through his hair and pulled it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his way as he cooked. Tossing the brush back onto his dresser, he headed down to the kitchen.
* * * * * * * * *
The slamming of the front door brought Eliot’s head up, drawing his attention away from his dinner preparations. A moment later, he heard Tara’s querulous voice followed by Hardison’s and Parker’s lower voices answering her. He raised his voice enough that it would carry to where they were, “Kitchen!”
A few moments later the three of them entered the kitchen; Parker bouncing slightly ahead of the other two. He had just enough time to set his knife down before she bounced into him, careening off his side and into the island. Hardison and Tara followed at a slower pace, the second blonde attempting to untie the bandana that was around her neck. Eliot raised his eyebrows at that sight, but realized they had probably blindfolded her for the drive. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t see where we were going,” she complained. “Since we’re obviously somewhere you both know.” She frowned as her nail got caught in the threads.
Eliot twirled his finger, motioning for her to turn so he could slice the bandana for her. “Seriously, Hardison?” he asked.
“Hey, five minutes into the drive and we both wanted to gag her,” Hardison replied. “I’m gonna go reactivate your GPS.” Waving over his shoulder, he wandered out of the room.
Parker pointed her finger at the other woman. “This is Eliot’s quiet time. You respect the quiet time or you have to go.” Turning to Eliot, she asked, “Did you fill the pool?”
“No, Parker, it’s still the way you left it,” he answered.
She hugged him quickly before slipping out the back door, leaving it cracked behind her. Eliot watched out the window, his hands going back to the preparations as Tara took a seat at the island. “What is she doing?” she asked after a moment.
Eliot’s eyes cut over to her, before going back to watching out the window. “You’ll see,” he replied. “Did Nate come with y’all?” His lips quirked up as Parker slipped her shoes off and dropped over the edge of the pool.
“He’s in the van. Which have you noticed something…funky smelling in the van?” Tara said. “I mean it’s really rather…” she broke off as Eliot pointed the knife at her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to aggravate the man with the deadly weapon.”
He flipped it around, holding it by the point for a second, before flipping it again and stabbing it point first into the cutting board he’d been using. “Didn’t aggravate me,” he replied mildly, “but don’t disrespect Hardison or his ride.” He crossed over to the fridge, opening it and pulling out two bottles. “Want a beer?”
“Sure.” She accepted the bottle he handed her. “What are you doing?”
“Making dinner. And no, I don’t need any help.” He nodded towards the backyard. “Why don’t you go play with Parker?”
“What is she doing?” Tara asked, frowning as the young cat burglar appeared in the air before vanishing down below the lip of the pool. A moment later, she reappeared, turning a flip in mid-air.
Eliot had turned his attention back to his food prep and he answered without looking up, “There’s a trampoline in the deep end.”
“There’s a…” Tara shook her head. “Never mind. I more than likely don’t want to know. What are Hardison and Nate doing?”
Eliot pointed through the doorway with his knife. “Probably in there. TV’s in there. And the liquor cabinet.”
Tara raised her eyebrows, but took her beer and followed his directions. Entering the other room, she did discover Hardison and Nate. The young hacker was seated on the couch, nose buried in his laptop like usual. The head of their little dysfunctional family was lounging on the orange couch—a reject from a bad ‘70s sitcom if she ever saw one—staring blankly at the television. Turning slightly, she blinked as she realized the television was from the same time period as the couch. Bunny ears (something she hadn’t seen since she was a teenager) perched precariously atop a black and white tube set; the screen dwarfed by the box that contained it. Blinking again, she watched as Nate raised the glass of scotch to his lips, taking a sip, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“My god,” she blurted. “I’ve entered the fucking Twilight Zone!”
Hardison looked up from whatever he was doing on his laptop and shook his head. “No, man just likes screwing with our heads. Have a seat, I think I’ve almost managed to get something approaching the twenty-first century on this thing.”
Shaking her head, Tara did as he suggested, muttering, “Twilight Zone. It’s the Twilight Zone. Sophie, you’re sooo gonna owe me when this is done.”
* * * * * * * * *
Eliot’s hand darted out, grabbing the paler hand that had been stealthily working its way into his pile of vegetables. “You can have some, but wash your hands first.” Parker grinned at him when he turned to look at her as he let her wrist go. “And then you can set the table.”
She pouted at him, but went to do as he’d ordered, washing her hands first and then accepting the handful of cut vegetables that he held out to her. Happier now, she nibbled on them as she took the plates and glasses from the cupboard, carrying them into the dining room.
He kept her going back and forth for a few minutes, handing her tidbits of whatever he was plating to keep her occupied and not attempting to help herself. As he checked on the pie and the Jell-o mold he’d made, she pulled herself up onto the counter. Poking at the Jell-o and watching it bounce back, she pointed out, “It jiggles. Is it supposed to jiggle?”
“Yes, Parker,” he said patiently. “It’s supposed to jiggle.”
She peered closer at it. “Eliot!” Grabbing his arm, she tugged him closer. “Eliot, there’s something inside it!”
Untangling his arm, he said, “It’s fruit. It won’t attack you.” When she still looked at him fearfully, he reassured her, “You don’t have to eat any of it.”
Still slightly unconvinced, she jumped off the counter, edging away from the Jell-o. “I’ll go get everyone? We’re ready to eat?”
“Yeah, Parker, we’re ready to eat,” he agreed. As she scurried out of the kitchen, he carefully placed the mold and the pie in the fridge. Shaking his head at her antics, he checked to make sure everything was turned off before washing his hands one last time and going to join the rest of the team in the dining room.
Walking around behind Hardison, he lifted the laptop out of the younger man’s hands. “Hey!” the hacker protested as the hitter carefully closed it.
“No hacking at the table,” Eliot ordered. Reaching around, he took the locks that Parker had pulled from somewhere. “And no lock picking either. You two can play after dinner.” Making sure they were settled with what he had confiscated, he set the items on the sideboard before retrieving the wine and opening the bottle. After pouring Tara and Nate from that bottle, he replaced it before pouring sparkling cider for himself and Parker. Hardison already had a bottle of orange soda at his place, but he swiped the bottle and dumped it into a glass.
Tara was looking over the spread, obviously trying to identify things. “What are we eating?”
The others had been well-trained not to reach for food when they were sitting at the table, until everyone was seated, so they were waiting for Eliot to slide into his seat. Parker smiled as he corked the wine bottle and finished up a few last minute things. “Eliot food!”
He shook his head as he took his own seat, then began pointing to the dishes, indicating each one as he named it, “Fried chicken, glazed carrots and onions, sweet potato pie, creamed chard with chopped vegetables, sweet potato fries, potato salad, and fried okra. There’s key lime pie or Jell-o for dessert. And there’s no complaining about calories or fried foods.” Nodding at Parker, who was already reaching for the closest dish, he said, “Go ahead.”
For a few minutes the only conversation was “pass the…” and “I want…” and “Can I have…”
When everyone’s plate was full, Eliot nodded at the group. “Eat up. And enjoy.” He sat back as they all dug into the food. A few years ago, this would not have been how he had ended his time away from work, but somehow and someway…this seemed right. Picking up his own fork, he began to eat, already planning how to bribe Hardison away from the laptop later for a game of basketball. Maybe they could even get Parker and Tara involved. It might not be a Leave it to Beaver family, but it worked for them.
Characters: Eliot Spencer (and the rest of the Leverage crew)
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: How does the Leverage team’s muscle spend his down time?
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Private time for Eliot, he’s a guy so draw your own conclusions
Disclaimer: No one from Leverage actually belongs to me
Author's Note: So this was supposed to be a birthday present for
elebridith …um…well…fail…since her birthday was in March. But I come bearing a gift anyway and hopefully since I’ve been giving her periodic updates anyway and she knows that it’s coming, she’ll accept it. I couldn’t have done this without kaitlia777 who helped me with food (since it’s Eliot) and without the attention of my girls serenelystrange and starhawk_writes . Oh and the original prompt was “Eliot, cooking”. I think it kinda took off. Enjoy! And if you want to see the place Eliot's house is based on. “Good morning, Eliot. To what horrible problem do I owe the honor of a call this time?”
Sophie’s cultured voice brought a slight smile to Eliot’s face as he eased his Rubicon into Boston’s traffic. “Do I need a problem to call you, Sophie?” he asked.
“Well, that is normally the reason,” she pointed out and he could almost picture her lounging on a settee as she cradled the phone, her other hand idly playing with a strand of hair.
“No problem this time. I was just calling to say hello,” he assured her. “Where are ya now?”
“You know what they say ‘if it’s Tuesday it must be Uzbekistan’,” she replied easily.
“It’s not Tuesday, Soph,” he reminded her.
“I can’t tell you where I am, Eliot, it defeats the purpose of me getting away. And yes I know, if you really wanted, Hardison could find me in a heartbeat, but I appreciate you giving me a chance to do what I need to do.”
“But you’re safe?” He pressed. “You aren’t in danger? You aren’t running any cons without us there to back you up?”
“Eliot, you do realize I took care of myself for many years before you came along.”
He smiled as he realized it wasn’t even a question. “A course, Soph.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he stopped at a traffic light. “But you’ve gotten used to having us watch your back.”
“I’m fine, Eliot. I promise. Not running any grifts at all. Now what was the real reason for your call?”
He put the Jeep into park behind their building and leaned back in to seat to finish the call. “That really was my reason. I’m going off grid for a little bit and I wanted to make sure you were all right before I did it.”
Sophie’s voice got softer. “Are you all right? Everything okay?”
“I just need to re-charge. Need more than my typical amount of sleep and some downtime. I’m checking on the others and then dropping outta sight for about forty-eight hours.”
“You would tell me if it was something else, right?” Sophie questioned. “We do have that much trust?”
“Yeah, Soph, we’re good. I really am fine,” he assured her. “You coming home soon?”
“I’ll be home when you all need me the most. Give Parker and Hardison my love.”
“I will, Sophie,” he replied. “I will,” he murmured as she hung up.
Swinging out of the Jeep, he made sure it was locked and secured before walking away without a backwards glance. It would be fine for the time he planned to be gone; checking on the rest of the team. Slipping in the fire exit, he moved swiftly up the stairs to the second floor and let himself into Nate’s apartment.
The apartment was dark, lit only by the ambient lights from outside that streamed in through the uncovered windows. Eliot glanced around the apartment, checking to be sure everything was turned off, before moving towards the living room and discovering Nate, sprawled out on the couch. At first he thought the older man had fallen asleep there until he got close enough to smell the alcohol rising off him in almost visible fumes. He considered what he wanted to do, if he actually wanted to leave Nate in this state, but he doubted the man would drink himself to death in the next few hours.
Moving almost silently, he picked up the tumbler that sat on the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen, dumping what was left of the contents down the drain. Rinsing the glass, he placed it in the drainer before ditching the rest of the bottle and swiftly searching the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he was laying a blanket over the sleeping man and leaving the apartment; the last of his preparations there done.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Eliot made his way to the top floor. Tilting his face up so the camera mounted by the door could see it, he waited for a count of ten before exiting the stairwell. The door clicked open and he entered the hallway, moving down it to the penthouse opening. Knocking once, he twisted the knob, shaking his head when it opened easily under his grip. “You know I could be anyone,” he commented as he entered the open area that was dominated by a flat screen television.
“I knew it was you,” Hardison replied, not looking away from the screen. He jerked his elbow at the computer by his side. “Security feeds. We would have locked the door if it wasn’t.”
“And gone out the window,” Parker added, spinning around but not losing her perch on the couch so she faced him. “Do you have something for us to do?”
“No, Parker,” Eliot replied, glancing at the television. “What’s that?”
Parker bounced a bit, Hardison reaching out to steady her without looking. “We’re playing World of Warcraft,” she explained. “I’m a thief! But she’s not as good as me.”
“Well, a course she’s not because they don’t have ya know you to consult when they’re making her and I can’t hack the server and make her better because they’d wonder how we knew all these things and it’s just a game…and…we…ya know,” Hardison’s babble trailed off as both Eliot and Parker looked at him in confusion. “So it’s not just a game, but no one is as good a thief as you, Parker,” he mumbled.
She smiled sunnily at him before turning her attention to Eliot again. “Hardison’s teaching me how to play.”
“That’s good.” He leaned against the pillar in the middle of the room, absently checking the room as he watched her. “Are you two good for the next few days? Be all right if I drop off the grid?”
Hardison turned, his words making a dent in the hacker’s world. “Everything okay, man?”
“Yeah, I just need to recharge,” Eliot assured him. “I’m headed out to my place. Give me about forty-eight hours and then come on out?” he suggested.
Parker tilted upside down and grinned at him. “Food?” she asked eagerly.
“Yeah, Parker, food,” he answered her. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he flipped it over and tossed it to Hardison, who fumbled but caught it after a second. “Hang on to that, Hardison, and bring it with ya when you two head out?”
“Yeah, sure. But how are we gonna get a hold of you if we need you?” Hardison asked as he pocked the phone.
“There’s a landline out at the house. Number’s in my cell. Only use it in an emergency. Like I said forty-eight hours.” He looked them over one last time before slipping back out the door.
Back down in the alley, he scouted around the jeep before swinging into the driver’s seat. Without a backwards glance, he pointed the vehicle towards the edge of town and freedom for forty-eight hours.
It was his job to take hits for his team. To take the punishment and the beatings so they didn’t have to. To run interference and to keep them safe. As he’d told Hardison, it’s what he did. Sometimes he needed a break though. He trusted the team enough that they would be okay if he dropped out of touch for a bit, they’d be all right and even though he told Hardison about the landline, he was sure the computer geek would find another way to get in touch with him. Of course he had no way to know if his Rubicon was or wasn’t tagged, but knowing the younger man—it more than likely was. And they all knew where to meet him when the time he’d given them was up. Hardison and Parker would decide whether or not to bring Tara along; if it was safe to bring her along.
His land was just over an hour from Boston, tucked away down a private road with no markers. There had been No Trespassing signs when he’d purchased it (through an ID that not even Hardison had discovered), but he’d torn them down on his first visit—the last thing he wanted to do was advertise his presence. The gate about a quarter mile in had not only a sixteen digit code, but he changed it each time he left, making it even harder to break. He stopped the Jeep, leaning out to input the code and waiting as the gate swung open.
Ten minutes later he was pulling to a stop in front of a house that was a lot grander than anything he normally would have purchased. He hadn’t been looking at the house when he’d made the purchase sight unseen though; he’d been looking at the almost 200 acres of secluded land. In the year plus that they’d been based in Boston, he’d had some time to come out and change things. Everything had been fixed up and the barn was ready for occupants whenever he finally decided he would settle down for good. He wasn’t positive that this was where he would retire; he’d always figured that would be Kentucky, but this would be a good place if it was the decision he made.
Meanwhile he didn’t want hired hands trooping around his safe house, he’d only recently begun letting the team come out here so he hadn’t even looked into stock and the few crops he’d planted were ones he could leave for weeks at a time. His main garden was much closer to Boston and their headquarters so he had a steady supply of food when he wanted it.
He spent a few minutes wandering through the small field that was set up near the house, just checking things over, making sure there wasn’t anything that needed his immediate attention before grabbing his duffle out of the box in the back of his truck and heading into the house. He could already feel the tension easing as he stepped onto the porch and he saw that nothing had been disturbed since his last visit. He shifted the duffle to his off-hand and undid the locks on his door, smiling as he tapped the code into the keypad. He hadn’t wanted the electronics when Hardison had first offered them, but had to admit they were a nice touch.
The duffle got tossed aside when he entered the main room and he paused to use the jack to pull his boots off. Normally he didn’t bother with one, but here at the house it was part of the ambiance. Besides it reminded him not to mark up the hardwood floors with his heels. He smiled as he realized he didn’t really need the reminder, but it was comfortable anyway and he liked it.
Glancing at the bag, he decided he could live with the mess and moved towards the stairs, fingers going to his shirt. By the time he reached the top of the steps, he had removed all of his upper layers (and actually left them strewn in his wake) and unbuttoned his jeans. He kicked off the heavy-weight denim as he reached the front bedroom, pausing to look out the windows. For a few minutes, he stood in the light that cascaded through the glass; enjoying the warmth and pleasure he got from standing there.
Turning away, he paused to draw the curtains before leaving the room. It would be too obvious for him to sleep in the master bed room and he never truly relaxed there. Instead he had a tiny alcove tucked away that was just big enough for a bed. Five minutes after he landed face up on it, he was sound asleep.
His eyes snapped open sometime later, instantly awake. He knew how many hours he’d slept, but he ignored his time sense as he got to his feet and padded down to the basement. Down there he had a gym, more complete than one that could be found on any street. It was stocked with every conceivable weapon, except firearms, plus a few that weren’t easily recognizable as weapons. From in here, he could easily start or stop a revolution or a coup and defend the people he considered his family. He kept his houseboat stocked from here; running up when he needed to or using items from his various contacts to help with the team’s cons. He knew they sometimes wondered how he did the things he did, but he’d been a bad man once upon a time, even if before that he’d been a good man who did bad things for his country.
Sometimes he had a hard time remembering if they were the same person. Or if he was still that person.
He snagged a pair of shorts from the bamboo dresser by the door and stripped off his boxer briefs, pulling the shorts on. He dumped the underwear by the door, making a mental note to take it upstairs with him when he left and to throw all his clothes into the washer before the team arrived.
Moving cautiously to the center of the room, he knelt down centering himself as he attained the position. His mind settled itself into meditation patterns as his body fell into the familiar placement. His thoughts turned inward as he blanked his memories. Sometimes he just didn’t want to remember anything.
Eliot rose to his feet, moving smoothly from his kneeling meditative position into a kata. When he fought, it was vicious, brutal. Fast and furious and over as quickly as he could make it. He rarely took the time to worry about form or beauty, but put his opponent down. If he was injured, he fought through or around the pain. His job was to protect the team—to make sure they could do their jobs and to keep them from getting hurt.
As he’d told Hardison, that’s what he did.
But here and now, he moved through the forms, letting his mind go into the quiet place where nothing existed except his body and the way it moved.
When he stopped, he wasn’t breathing heavily, but his body was drenched in sweat; his shorts riding low on his hips. He panted lightly, expanding his lungs to make sure he got enough oxygen. Picking up a towel, he wiped the sweat from his body before gathering his scattered clothes and entering the laundry room.
He stripped down and rinsed off in the small shower in the laundry room before grabbing jeans and a t-shirt from the clothes stored there. He sat down on the bench outside the door, pulling on his dirty boots and lacing them up. Unlike the ones he’d worn out to the house, these were the ones he wore only here and only to work outside.
Eliot moved smoothly through the fields, checking on the progress of his crops. He allowed most of them to grow as they willed. He didn’t have the time or the energy to devote the care they truly needed, but he’d found that leaving them be produced a surprising amount of produce even if he sometimes had to take a machete to his garden.
He harvested what he’d need for dinner; throwing it into a basket that was near-by. Soon he had a good sized harvest of onions, okra, chard, carrots, rhubarb, and sweet potatoes. He added a few regular potatoes before getting to his feet and brushing the dirt off his hands on his jeans. Hefting the basket up, he carried it into the house, dumping the produce into the sink to soak.
Rising his hands off in the sink, Eliot checked the produce and pulled the greens out before washing his hands with soap in a secondary sink. He took out a cloth, laying it across the granite top of his island before spreading his knives and cleaning supplies across it.
He tested each blade, setting them in piles. Some needed to be sharpened or ground before he cleaned them. Stopping them against the whetstone, he honed the edges until he was sure they were the prefect cut and would serve him well. Wiping them down with cotton cloths, he picked up a second cloth and carefully oiled each knife. Twirling them with a smile as he finished with each blade, he checked balances and grips before storing them away again.
Some went into cases to travel back to his house or Nate’s, to be stored in his truck or Hardison’s van. Others were slipped back into their sheaths in the rooms in his home. Finally he slid his boot knives into place.
One last check of the security system and then he climbed the stairs again.
He knew he had a limited amount of time before the rest of the team got there and he desperately wanted a shower before he started dinner. He’d promised Parker and Hardison food, which meant they’d show up more than hungry. Sometimes he was amazed he didn’t have the two of them at his place every night looking for food, but he tended to cook dinner a few times a week at Nate’s and that seemed to satisfy them. The first few times, he’d stuck to pretty easy and normal dishes, but he’d soon realized that the little Hoovers would eat anything he placed in front of them…as long as they weren’t required to cook it first. He’d even started to bully them into cleaning up or at least loading the dishwasher after they ate. No one touched his pots and pans.
He dropped a towel on the floor in his bathroom, stripping his dirty clothes off while standing on it so he didn’t scatter dirt all over. Gathering up the corners, he dumped everything into the hamper before turning on the water. As he waited for steam to fill the room, he pulled the rubber band out of his hair, running his fingers roughly through it. Carefully he untangled the beads he’d braided into his hair, dropping them one by one into the small dish on the sink edge. He paused for a moment, running his fingers through the smooth beads before stretching and stepping into the shower.
Pulling the glass door shut behind him, he ducked his head under the water, wetting down his hair. For just a moment, he enjoyed the feel of the water beating down on his head before he grabbed his shampoo bottle, then quickly lathered up his hair. Tipping his head back, he allowed the flow to rinse the soap as he ran his hands down his firm body.
Reaching for his cock, he groaned softly as it hardened beneath his fingers. He stroked it softly for a moment before coming to a decision. Bracing his left hand against the wall, he gripped himself more firmly. A couple more strokes brought him to full hardness and he slowed down for a second, running a nail down the length of his cock. He growled at the feeling before loosely gripping himself and flicking a finger over the head.
He’d like to tease himself for a little while, but he just didn’t have the time right now. Sliding his hand back down, he picked up the pace, closing his eyes and firming his grip. His breathing picked up as he slid his hands up and down, squeezing as he got near the head. After a few minutes, he added a slight twist, feeling the tension build as he moved his hand faster, pulled a little harder. A tingling at the base of his spine signaled the beginnings and he braced his knees, clenching his teeth to hold his roar inside as he erupted.
Panting lightly, he leaned his head against the wall for a moment before pushing backwards and quickly rising himself off. He’d taken more time than he’d planned and he needed to get dinner started. Grabbing the washcloth, he quickly soaped down before rinsing off again.
Stepping out of the shower, he quickly dried off before throwing the towel in the laundry basket. Padding down the hall, he entered his room. Quickly he retrieved a pair of button-fly jeans and pulled them on, leaving them undone as he searched for a t-shirt. Finally finding a blue one, he pulled it on, tucking it into the jeans before buttoning them up. Grabbing a brush, he ran it through his hair and pulled it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his way as he cooked. Tossing the brush back onto his dresser, he headed down to the kitchen.
The slamming of the front door brought Eliot’s head up, drawing his attention away from his dinner preparations. A moment later, he heard Tara’s querulous voice followed by Hardison’s and Parker’s lower voices answering her. He raised his voice enough that it would carry to where they were, “Kitchen!”
A few moments later the three of them entered the kitchen; Parker bouncing slightly ahead of the other two. He had just enough time to set his knife down before she bounced into him, careening off his side and into the island. Hardison and Tara followed at a slower pace, the second blonde attempting to untie the bandana that was around her neck. Eliot raised his eyebrows at that sight, but realized they had probably blindfolded her for the drive. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t see where we were going,” she complained. “Since we’re obviously somewhere you both know.” She frowned as her nail got caught in the threads.
Eliot twirled his finger, motioning for her to turn so he could slice the bandana for her. “Seriously, Hardison?” he asked.
“Hey, five minutes into the drive and we both wanted to gag her,” Hardison replied. “I’m gonna go reactivate your GPS.” Waving over his shoulder, he wandered out of the room.
Parker pointed her finger at the other woman. “This is Eliot’s quiet time. You respect the quiet time or you have to go.” Turning to Eliot, she asked, “Did you fill the pool?”
“No, Parker, it’s still the way you left it,” he answered.
She hugged him quickly before slipping out the back door, leaving it cracked behind her. Eliot watched out the window, his hands going back to the preparations as Tara took a seat at the island. “What is she doing?” she asked after a moment.
Eliot’s eyes cut over to her, before going back to watching out the window. “You’ll see,” he replied. “Did Nate come with y’all?” His lips quirked up as Parker slipped her shoes off and dropped over the edge of the pool.
“He’s in the van. Which have you noticed something…funky smelling in the van?” Tara said. “I mean it’s really rather…” she broke off as Eliot pointed the knife at her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to aggravate the man with the deadly weapon.”
He flipped it around, holding it by the point for a second, before flipping it again and stabbing it point first into the cutting board he’d been using. “Didn’t aggravate me,” he replied mildly, “but don’t disrespect Hardison or his ride.” He crossed over to the fridge, opening it and pulling out two bottles. “Want a beer?”
“Sure.” She accepted the bottle he handed her. “What are you doing?”
“Making dinner. And no, I don’t need any help.” He nodded towards the backyard. “Why don’t you go play with Parker?”
“What is she doing?” Tara asked, frowning as the young cat burglar appeared in the air before vanishing down below the lip of the pool. A moment later, she reappeared, turning a flip in mid-air.
Eliot had turned his attention back to his food prep and he answered without looking up, “There’s a trampoline in the deep end.”
“There’s a…” Tara shook her head. “Never mind. I more than likely don’t want to know. What are Hardison and Nate doing?”
Eliot pointed through the doorway with his knife. “Probably in there. TV’s in there. And the liquor cabinet.”
Tara raised her eyebrows, but took her beer and followed his directions. Entering the other room, she did discover Hardison and Nate. The young hacker was seated on the couch, nose buried in his laptop like usual. The head of their little dysfunctional family was lounging on the orange couch—a reject from a bad ‘70s sitcom if she ever saw one—staring blankly at the television. Turning slightly, she blinked as she realized the television was from the same time period as the couch. Bunny ears (something she hadn’t seen since she was a teenager) perched precariously atop a black and white tube set; the screen dwarfed by the box that contained it. Blinking again, she watched as Nate raised the glass of scotch to his lips, taking a sip, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“My god,” she blurted. “I’ve entered the fucking Twilight Zone!”
Hardison looked up from whatever he was doing on his laptop and shook his head. “No, man just likes screwing with our heads. Have a seat, I think I’ve almost managed to get something approaching the twenty-first century on this thing.”
Shaking her head, Tara did as he suggested, muttering, “Twilight Zone. It’s the Twilight Zone. Sophie, you’re sooo gonna owe me when this is done.”
Eliot’s hand darted out, grabbing the paler hand that had been stealthily working its way into his pile of vegetables. “You can have some, but wash your hands first.” Parker grinned at him when he turned to look at her as he let her wrist go. “And then you can set the table.”
She pouted at him, but went to do as he’d ordered, washing her hands first and then accepting the handful of cut vegetables that he held out to her. Happier now, she nibbled on them as she took the plates and glasses from the cupboard, carrying them into the dining room.
He kept her going back and forth for a few minutes, handing her tidbits of whatever he was plating to keep her occupied and not attempting to help herself. As he checked on the pie and the Jell-o mold he’d made, she pulled herself up onto the counter. Poking at the Jell-o and watching it bounce back, she pointed out, “It jiggles. Is it supposed to jiggle?”
“Yes, Parker,” he said patiently. “It’s supposed to jiggle.”
She peered closer at it. “Eliot!” Grabbing his arm, she tugged him closer. “Eliot, there’s something inside it!”
Untangling his arm, he said, “It’s fruit. It won’t attack you.” When she still looked at him fearfully, he reassured her, “You don’t have to eat any of it.”
Still slightly unconvinced, she jumped off the counter, edging away from the Jell-o. “I’ll go get everyone? We’re ready to eat?”
“Yeah, Parker, we’re ready to eat,” he agreed. As she scurried out of the kitchen, he carefully placed the mold and the pie in the fridge. Shaking his head at her antics, he checked to make sure everything was turned off before washing his hands one last time and going to join the rest of the team in the dining room.
Walking around behind Hardison, he lifted the laptop out of the younger man’s hands. “Hey!” the hacker protested as the hitter carefully closed it.
“No hacking at the table,” Eliot ordered. Reaching around, he took the locks that Parker had pulled from somewhere. “And no lock picking either. You two can play after dinner.” Making sure they were settled with what he had confiscated, he set the items on the sideboard before retrieving the wine and opening the bottle. After pouring Tara and Nate from that bottle, he replaced it before pouring sparkling cider for himself and Parker. Hardison already had a bottle of orange soda at his place, but he swiped the bottle and dumped it into a glass.
Tara was looking over the spread, obviously trying to identify things. “What are we eating?”
The others had been well-trained not to reach for food when they were sitting at the table, until everyone was seated, so they were waiting for Eliot to slide into his seat. Parker smiled as he corked the wine bottle and finished up a few last minute things. “Eliot food!”
He shook his head as he took his own seat, then began pointing to the dishes, indicating each one as he named it, “Fried chicken, glazed carrots and onions, sweet potato pie, creamed chard with chopped vegetables, sweet potato fries, potato salad, and fried okra. There’s key lime pie or Jell-o for dessert. And there’s no complaining about calories or fried foods.” Nodding at Parker, who was already reaching for the closest dish, he said, “Go ahead.”
For a few minutes the only conversation was “pass the…” and “I want…” and “Can I have…”
When everyone’s plate was full, Eliot nodded at the group. “Eat up. And enjoy.” He sat back as they all dug into the food. A few years ago, this would not have been how he had ended his time away from work, but somehow and someway…this seemed right. Picking up his own fork, he began to eat, already planning how to bribe Hardison away from the laptop later for a game of basketball. Maybe they could even get Parker and Tara involved. It might not be a Leave it to Beaver family, but it worked for them.
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(no subject)
4/8/10 04:09 (UTC)(no subject)
4/8/10 04:30 (UTC)LOL I had fun with that part.
(no subject)
4/8/10 08:15 (UTC)(no subject)
4/8/10 20:55 (UTC)(no subject)
4/8/10 10:21 (UTC)I especially liked this line:
He knew they sometimes wondered how he did the things he did, but he’d been a bad man once upon a time, even if before that he’d been a good man who did bad things for his country.
(no subject)
4/8/10 21:02 (UTC)I especially liked this line:
He knew they sometimes wondered how he did the things he did, but he’d been a bad man once upon a time, even if before that he’d been a good man who did bad things for his country.
That is one of my favorite lines. I suspect from the way he reacts to the things he's done in the past and the way he reacted to Perry, he doesn't regret what he did as solider. But no one has the training he's shown and didn't do very, very bad things (even if they were for the right reason).
(no subject)
4/8/10 10:37 (UTC)*squeaks*
Thank you sweetie, I LOVE it!! How he makes sure that everyone is okay, and still allowing him only 48 hours... aww!
And shower. RAWR!!!! You should have taken off a WEEK. Just sayin'. *g* Love it that they blindfolded Tara. *g* And of course there is a trampolin in the pool. What else? *g*
That was fantastic, thank you sooo much!! *glomps*
(no subject)
4/8/10 21:09 (UTC)*giggles* And I thought you'd like the shower. Apparently I have a thing for naked wet boys this week.
*giggles again* Yes, the blindfold was fun!
Well, I didn't think that Eliot would leave a pool full of water when he wasn't there much. And Parker would just been too intrigued and want to do something with the pool so *shrugged* I figured that would be fun.
Welcome sweetie! Your package went out in today's mail so give it about a week and then start looking for it.
(no subject)
5/8/10 10:07 (UTC)Thanks hun!!!
(no subject)
6/8/10 19:52 (UTC)(no subject)
4/8/10 14:05 (UTC)(no subject)
4/8/10 21:15 (UTC)And I'll write you an answer to your email to send when I get home Friday morning. I've gotta leave in about 20 minutes...so I don't really have the time now.
(no subject)
4/8/10 18:56 (UTC)(no subject)
4/8/10 21:17 (UTC)(no subject)
4/8/10 19:13 (UTC)Sorry. I just wanted to let you know, that I haven't forgotten about you. I'll reply asap. *hugs*
(no subject)
4/8/10 21:19 (UTC)(no subject)
12/8/10 19:39 (UTC)(no subject)
12/8/10 23:51 (UTC)(no subject)
4/8/10 23:32 (UTC)(no subject)
6/8/10 19:39 (UTC)(no subject)
5/8/10 02:44 (UTC)And now I want a trampoline in a pool.
(no subject)
6/8/10 19:46 (UTC)LOL it was an empty pool and it seemed appropriate for Parker :-)
(no subject)
6/8/10 19:51 (UTC)(no subject)
6/8/10 20:20 (UTC)What do you think of the name Madeline? Maddy for short?
(no subject)
6/8/10 20:26 (UTC)(no subject)
6/8/10 20:58 (UTC)(no subject)
8/9/10 05:21 (UTC)(no subject)
8/9/10 19:16 (UTC)