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werewolfsmile · 17 days

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re: "All I’m saying is the fact that someone isn’t talking to me about Eliot Spencer every second of every day is very unfair and borderline illegal." & tags - if you want to, can you elaborate on your werewolf!eliot ideas?? i’d like to hear about it!! if not all good tho :)

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Yes I would love to elaborate! (buckle up because i have Thoughts)

(wow this really got away from me so uhhh .... warning for 2k of ranting about Eliot as a werewolf?? list of headcanons under the cut)

From the moment I first met Eliot Spencer, I knew he was werewolf-coded. Aside from his insanely fantastic fighting abilities and the absurd amount of punishment he can take, there are many other factors that contribute to his werewolf status.

Eliot needs a pack Our boy is out here working on his own for years and look at all the good it did him! None! He carries severe trauma from his family life because he blames himself for how it all went down and doesn't think he'll be welcomed back. Plus something probably happened during his military days or early PMC days to put him off working with others. Could have been the pain of losing people all the time, could have been something more. Either way, Eliot working on his own is a defence mechanism - but a self-destructive one.

Wolves thrive in packs - like duh, they're pack animals. As my username suggests, I'm into werewolves and, by extension, wolves. I've done research for my own werewolf novels in the past, so I know that in an average wolf pack, each pack member will have physical contact with the other pack members on the regular. Like, several times an hour! (gosh if I can find the research paper this info came from I'll link it but honestly it's been years) That's a serious level of physical contact required to keep the emotional bonds of the pack healthy!

Flick back to Eliot. He loves to fight, he loves the violence and the pain, yes. He hates the killing and the blood on his hands. He actually tries to leave the assassin world behind after he meets Toby (which is before he meets Moreau, as per early dialogue in The French Connection Job). He bonds quickly with Toby. Show Eliot a little love and care and he's yours for life! He moves onto retrieval work, then somehow ends up working for Moreau.

Now, when we see Eliot and Moreau in The Big Bang Job, Moreau says, "You work alone." Which means that Eliot had that reputation when he came to Moreau. He probably only took contracts to start off with. But he accepted job after job from Moreau and was so good that he was highly respect and it's inferred he ended up as Moreau's top bodyguard/assassin. Why the hell would Eliot end up that close to a man who brings out all the worst in him? Because Eliot's a werewolf and no matter how toxic, Moreau fulfills the need for a pack bond that he's been missing all this time.

Fast forward to Eliot meeting the rest of the Leverage team. One job only - my ass. He saves Hardison's life after Hardison brought a gun to their little meeting - and we all know how Eliot feels about guns.

Wolves are designed to live and operate in packs. Eliot says it's one job only but is bonding with them all from the get-go. Werewolf trait confirmed.

Eliot needs physical touch Now, I know what you're thinking. Eliot canonically avoids physical contact with the team. He refuses hugs, especially from Hardison, growls at Parker poking his bruises (don't get me started on the growls), and shoves people (ahem Parker) out of his personal space. So why would he do all this if he needs physical touch??

Because he's one gigantic ball of angst and self-loathing and guilt.

Eliot doesn't think he deserves forgiveness or love or family, etc. That is a whole other rant, but he denies himself the physical contact he needs with others as a way of punishing himself.

However, as the series progresses, we see him become more comfortable with physical contact! He hugs Hardison several times, he doesn't move away from Parker, etc. Why? Because he's bonded with this team (ahem pack) and there's only so much he can suppress his instincts. The more time he spends with them, the more naturally the contact flows.

Eliot needs to protect others Whenever we get a scene of the team walking as a group, where is Eliot positioned 90% of the time?? That's right, at the back of the group. He lets the others walk in pairs and falls back to bring up the rear. He's keeping them all in his line of sight and constantly scanning for threats ahead, along with protecting the team from any rear attacks. It makes sense for him to do this given his military background, but it also makes sense for a werewolf to do this.

He's the only werewolf in the team. His instincts revolve around keeping the pack safe and protected, so he does that in the best way he knows how.

Not to mention how feral gets over kids!!

Wolf life is all about the pack and the family structure. Pups are integral to the pack's survival and future. Eliot doesn't have kids of his own. But that doesn't stop his instincts from blaring every time he interacts with a kid, be it on the con or off. He takes time out every time to help that kid in an attempt to calm the raging storm of instincts inside his body.

Eliot needs to feed others It's another werewolf instinct that rears its head when they're in the safety of their headquarters (ahem den). Protecting the team/pack from physical threats is just one aspect of taking care of them. Feeding them is the other major one.

None of these idiots can cook to save their lives - except Nate, but he's also drowning his liver 90% of the time, so Eliot has to compensate for that, too. The team can't operate at full capacity if they're not consuming good nutrition. So Eliot makes sure to feed them.

His humanity recognises that these are independent people - coworkers - and he can't control every meal of every day. But he can cook for them, once a week or once a job, which is just enough to satisfy his instincts that he's doing his part to care for them. Plus they love his cooking, and the praise he gets from it is an unexpected but pleasant bonus.

Eliot and team sports/kitchens This ties in with my first point about Eliot needing a pack, but all the times we see Eliot go super hard and get absorbed in the role he's playing are when he's on a team sport or he's in the kitchen. Both of these fulfill super important instincts for him - being in a team/pack and providing food for others.

Think about The Tap-Out Job. Eliot's playing a fighter but he's not pretending to be on a team. He doesn't get over-invested in the role. But what about when he's a baseball player? A hockey player? He falls into those roles hard because he's working with another team again, and this little werewolf is built for that environment. Same in The French Connection: the kitchen becomes his den, the students are his pack mates, and he goes hard at investing in them and protecting them. Never mind the personal aspect of Toby.

Same for episodes like The Fairy Godparents Job when we get a scene of Eliot teaching a bunch of girls self-defence. Team setting + protecting kids = happy werewolf instincts.

So, werewolf headcanons? I have a lot of different origin theories but the main one I like for Eliot is:

he became a werewolf either for a covert military op, or was bitten by Moreau (choose your own angst flavour)

if it was for the military, they were trying to engineer supersoldiers and he was deemed a failure; he has werewolf instincts all the time but only has enhanced strength, healing, etc on full moons

if it was bitten by Moreau, there's a psychic-style bond linking them, which is why he was so loyal to Moreau for so long, and also why he is so reluctant to go after Moreau

(wow this is too different theories already and i said this was my 'main one' whoops)

Eliot can only shift easily on the full moon; shifting outside of a full moon can only be caused by extreme stress and is ridiculously painful

he suffers an insanely high prey drive all the time and is so strict about his control because he doesn't actually wanna rip out the throat of Random Guard #3

he used to chain himself up for full moons so he didn't hurt anyone, but since the team found out about him, Hardison and Parker have taken it upon themselves to 'puppy-sit' him every full moon

this involves no chains but an obscene amount of dog chew toys. Eliot is never impressed. He also never chases or chews the toys. The video evidence Hardison has was obviously doctored.

Hardison and Parker found out the truth when a con went sideways and Eliot was trapped in a room with them during the full moon

he was terrified he was going to kill them - or worse, bite them - but his instincts recognised them as pack so instead he just tried to wrestle with them all night

Hardison had a major freak out when he discovered Eliot was a werewolf - it's one thing to be obsessed with sci-fi/fantasy, it's another thing entirely to see your best friend transform before your eyes

Parker was not even remotely phased, being all like, "pfft of course werewolves are real, I thought you knew that Hardison, you talk about your elves and orcs all the time!"

"Woman that is completely different and you know it!"

"What else do you think is fake? The tooth fairy?? Ha!"

Eliot is Done With Their Shenanigans

Parker only ever refers to Eliot as Sparky when he's in his wolf form

Sophie didn't actually know about werewolves before the reveal but she pretends that she did

Nate knew about werewolves before Eliot, he just chooses to pretend that they're Not A Thing

werewolves generally don't make good hitters, because the constant exposure to violence ramps up their hunting instincts aka they find it hard not to kill

of course, this doesn't matter if you're someone like Moreau who specifically wants killing machines and thus turns his top hitters into werewolves, to ensure loyalty and enhance his strength

the only other werewolf hitter not under Moreau's control that Eliot knows is Quinn, who most certainly did not pull his werewolf strength punches when they tousled in The First David Job

Quinn doesn't have a pack (werewolf or otherwise) and genuinely doesn't seem phased by this, which pisses off Eliot to no end

however, after they work together in The Last Dam Job, Quinn deems himself Eliot's Best Werewolf Bud and keeps popping up randomly to hang out on full moons, etc

Parker and Hardison are a bit weirded out (and a little jealous) of Quinn's attention initially, but soon get over that when they discover that two werewolves on a full moon absolutely play for hours like 6 month old puppies - especially with the tug rope

Eliot is Extremely Susceptible to belly rubs even in his human form, which is half the reason he pushes people out of his personal space a lot - his reputation would never survive anyone finding out

of course the entire team figures it out and take to ambushing him with belly rubs whenever he's being stubborn or annoying

belly rubs are also the only way he will relax enough when he's injured so they can treat his wounds

despite the incessant dog jokes, the ever-growing pile of dog toys, and the bowls labelled with "Sparky" and cartoon bone symbols ... Eliot absolutely adores the pack he's found himself in and wouldn't change them for the world

One of these days I will sit down and write a thousand fics for werewolf!Eliot! Till then, I'll just keep churning out the headcanons ;)

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applejuiz · 1 year

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Nate “Hardison dies in Plan M” Ford for some reason creates a plan to take down Damien Moreau in San Lorenzo that requires Eliot Spencer to spend the entire time there doing side quest tasks with Parker or cuddling with puppies. For some reason.

#leverage #eliot spencer #nate ford #damien moreau #Parker #I just think that it’s interesting #I mean all things considered #Eliot has a really nice vacation #rescues his friend from prison #spends a lot of time being cute with Parker #holds some puppies #what a fun time

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itsmeyourmentalillness · 9 days

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Some more group shenanigans ✨️

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

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sassylegshayne · 1 year

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marry me, idiot. - chapter four

oh my god it's so angsty and there's so much cussing and I really don't know what else to say ab it lmfao I hope you guys like it bc I love this chapter sm okay lmk what you think!!! 4.1k words mwah xx!!

series masterlist

It started to seem like days in the office began to blend together, the month and a half since you and Spencer got accidentally engaged flew by. It was a whirlwind of shoots, editing, and meetings as you prepared to announce it to the world.

After a few weeks with no leaks known to the team it was decided that waiting would be for the best. You and Spencer spent more time in front of the camera as ever before. You didn't expect so many of the wedding videos to be shot so early, but Zoe made the point that the wedding planning could take quite a while.

Your last shoot for a few months was scheduled for today. It was an Eat It Or Yeet It wedding cake episode that left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, literally. You waited through the first two, allowing Olivia to get a red velvet sriracha cake and Damien to taste a pickle juice cake, which he of course claimed to enjoy.

You stared Spencer down as you slammed the bell, just barely beating him as he screamed out. The cake looked normal, and frankly good. The slice of cake appeared to be a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, so you decided to take a large bite.

"Look at this!" You defended as Spencer criticized your bite. "It's gonna be good, Spence, and am not sorry about it."

You shrugged and laughed as he scoffed, shaking his head. He continued to claim you would regret it as the others began to count you down.

"I hope it's just super salty or something, you deserve it." Spencer called over the others, crossing his arms with a smug look as he watched you take your bite.

You sat back immediately, your face dropping as you covered your mouth. Garrett shrugged and laughed nervously as you looked to him with a saddened expression.

Spencer turned over his shoulder, grabbing the bucket as his faux anger had quickly melted into concerned as you chewed slowly. Courtney slapped his shoulder softly with the cards, chastising him for stealing her job.

You chewed in slow silence, choking out a wish for water once you had finally swallowed it. Cheers erupted as you gulped down your water, groaning as you sat back.

"What was it? I'm sorry I wished that hell on you." Spencer chuckled as he placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as you rolled your eyes.

"Shayne should try it." You stated, pushing the plate towards him as Shayne began to cackle. Damien scrunching his face as everyone else began to laugh.

Olivia sat in confusion, looking around to the others. "Wait, what is it?"

"Y/N, what you just had was.." Courtney began, moving behind you as she read off the card. "Chocolate malic acid cake! Which is made of chocolate cake mix, malic acid, chocolate frosting, and more malic acid!"

You gagged a bit as Spencer wrapped his arms around your shoulders after Courtney removed your bib. He placed a kiss to your temple, mumbling another apology as he chuckled. You pulled away, pointing your finger at Spencer with your brows furrowed.

"You should have to take the big bite for that. You put that shit on me so you deserve it, if it's the worst bite, which I hope it is." You spoke pointedly as Spencer's eyes widened, rasing his hands in surrender.

"Okay, that's fair." He quickly responded, nodding frantically as you laughed, nudging your shoulder with his as the next dish was placed on the table.

"I think Y/N could punch you in the face and you would thank her." Damien quipped, pulling a loud laugh from Kiana behind the cameras. Shayne was greeted with what looked to be a confetti cake, but there was no telling what it could really be.

Shayne groaned, rubbing his face with one hand as the other slowly hovered over the button, dropping his hand dramatically as everyone cheered.

"I want it to be confetti cake but it's probably, like, microplastics or some shit." Shayne chuckled as he got some onto the fork, rolling his eyes and flipping the bird when Garrett tells him to get more frosting.

Shayne was pleasantly surprised to get a normal cake, leaving Spencer groaning.

"Goddamnit, Shayne." Spencer slapped the table, laughing as Shayne gave a thumbs up and went back in for another bite.

Courtney called it to be a perfectly normal cake mush to the dismay of everyone else. When Courtney pulls the cover from the tray, everyone begins to count down in confusion.

The slice looked very similar to yours from earlier, maybe a bit neater, but near identical. Spencer silently hit the button, slumped in his seat as you giggled beside him. He stayed silent as everyone was in fits of laughter as Spencer's pure misery.

"You're doing this to me, I want you to know that." He turned to you, laughing softly as the countdown began for the final time.

Spencer waited, slowly moving the bite to his mouth. He remained stoic for a second, but once he had realized it wasn't something bad his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a soft whine.

You gasped as he grinned, finishing his bite to loud cheers as Courtney removed his bib. Spencer pressed a kiss to your cheek, laughing softly as you sat in bewilderment.

"Thank you for that, that was fucking delicious." He laughed, handing you a fork from Garrett, inviting you to try it.

"What you just ate was 'Mythical Chef Josh's German Chocolate Cake'! Holy cow, that was a lot of words." Courtney laughed, flinging the card behind her. You groaned quietly, mirroring Spencer as the flavors melted on your tongue.

"We're not gonna tell you the ingredients because he gave us way too many!" Courtney called out as laughter rang from everyone.

"Fuck, can we get Josh to make this for our wedding cake?" You laughed as you went in for more.

Spencer felt a tug at his heart strings,nyet another pang in his chest as you picked up another bite, his eyes following your every move.

He's known for so long that he was in love with you, he's known for fucking years. He got you two into this situation, you'd been around each other and focused on this wedding for a bit now.

But in this moment, a moment he'll be so thankful that Alex had swung his camera in time to catch and thankful that Kiana had fought to keep the clip in, he would realized just how much he loved you.

The words sat on the tip of his tongue, his feelings clear in his eyes to everyone but you. You just grinned at him, offering him a bite of the cake, your other hand hovering just below his chin to catch any crumbs.

All Spencer could bring himself to do was smile and accept. He stuffed his mouth to keep himself from spilling the vomit of words he wanted to say.

There was so many small ways he told you that he loved you, but he couldn't just say that; he knew a jumbled mess of a confession to his years and years worth of love for you would make its way out.

So Spencer was quick to grab his fork, nodding and giving a thumbs up as he took another bite, eating almost half of the slice by the time Courtney finished the outro, jumping from his stool almost as soon as wrap was called.

You scooted out of your chair in confusion as your eyes followed Spencer, watching as he quickly took off his mic pack and darted out of the door.

Shayne and Damien turned to you with similar perplexed looks. You were quick to follow suit as everyone began to shuffle about the set.

You head toward the central part of the office, catching sight of Spencer in the communal kitchen, leaning down to look into the fridge. He turns, a kickstart in his hand, as he notices your entering the small space. Spencer is quick to smile at you.

"What up, wifey?" He chuckles, opening the can as you raise a brow. He'd picked up the new nickname in the last couple of days after you were gifted a cup with it splayed across the side.

"You okay, Spence?" You questioned softly, approaching him with open arms, smiling as he opened his embrace. The two of you hugged as Spencer scoffed, rubbing your back softly.

"Of course l'm okay, why wouldn't be? This is honestly going way better than could've imagined." He grinned, that pang in his chest returning from earlier.

He wasnt lying to you, but it sure felt like it. He was having a great time, and it was going way better than he expected, but his feelings are becoming very, very strong.

Spencer didn't expect it to affect him this much, especially after this long. It almost felt like he was falling for you all over again. You pulled away, smiling softly at him as you took his free hand in yours, giving it a gentle Squeeze.

"We made an agreement, if anything is making you feel weird or uncomfortable you can tell me. I really fucking mean that, dude." You huffed, brows furrowed as Spencer chuckled and nodded.

"I know, it's all good, I swear." He stepped forward, placing a kiss to your forehead before he slid past you, quietly heading toward your office.

You stood there, chewing your lip softly as you slumped a bit. Spencer was really begining to worry you. His mood shifted so quickly, you'd gone the whole morning just as normal, even then entire shoot was fine. He just switched as soon as wrap was called.

Spencer seemed almost cold when you asked, shocking you a bit. You were used to telling each other everything, from the moment the two of you met, there was an unspoken trust that helped your friendship and feelings blossom so quickly.

So the feeling in your gut that Spencer was holding something back was much more jarring than you could've expected. You couldn't even expect it, this wasn't a situation you'd ever thought of before. You were lost.

You could only think of one person you could go to as you pulled your phone from your pocket, opening your texts.

"ki can we do lunch please?"

Kiana squinted as she glanced at her phone, the stage lights causing a glare as she sat at the Games' set preparing a board game for the next shoot.

She sat up straight, only slightly alarmed by the text. She'd been biting her tongue since Spencer rushed off, her romantic heart racing when you followed after him. She wanted to follow after you, wishing to be a fly on the wall but chose to stay, knowing you two needed the privacy.

She wanted with every fiber of her being to believe that you had something good to tell her, but the pit in her stomach argued otherwise. Kiana responded quickly, promising to meet you at her desk in five minutes.

"Lizzy," Kiana called as she rose from her seat, beckoning her over. "I gotta run, would you be able to finish this up?"

Lizzy agreed, nodding as she shooed Kiana off, ignoring her profuse thank you's. Kiana smile softly as she entered her office, finding slumped in her chair, spinning slowly.

"Wanna order food?" She asked you as she quietly shut the door behind herself. You skidded to a stop, nodding as your eyes met Kiana's. Your brows were furrowed and your stress was clear on your face.

Kiana took the seat opposite for you, shifting a bit in the tough chair. She never knew just how uncomfortable her chairs were, making a mental note to order different ones.

"I'm ordering, you talk." She spoke, eyes on her phone as she nodded at you, causing you to nod back.

"Okay, Spencer's being really fucking weird and it's freaking me out. He ran off set so followed him, which I know you saw." You narrow your eyes, pointing your finger at her. Kiana smirks, eyes still down on her phone as her fingers speed about the screen.

"He was in the kitchen and he seemed like he was pretending to be fine. He was acting normal, he hugged me, he kissed my forehead, he told me he was fine and promised me that he was okay:" You huffed as Kiana locked her phone, setting it down on the desktop as she leaned back, eyes meeting yours.

"I honestly think it's just starting to get to him and he just doesn't wanna say anything about it. He's apologized over this so many times, Ki, no matter how often I tell him that love it." You groan, resting your head in your hands as you feel that same gut feeling from before.

"Y/N," Kiana spoke softly, offering you a sympathetic smile. "Spencer tells you everything, maybe he needs some time to sort out his feelings, yanno? He probably just wants to figure himself out before he tells you, he hates stressing you out."

You nodded a bit, not fully convinced but not willing to argue as your head began to pound. As if punishment from the universe, Kiana's phone rang loudly, causing you to jump a bit.

Ki answered quick, offering you hushed apologies as she spoke quietly, before excusing herself, your food waiting at the front.

You waved lazily as you laid your head on her desk the exhaustion hitting you full force. The busy schedule and your highstrung emotions were finally catching up with you it seemed.

Kiana peeked into the editing room as she walked past on her way to the front, frowning softly as she caught sight of Spencer. He sat with his headphones on, his face bored with a half eaten sandwich beside him.

Alex, one of the Games' producers, gave Kiana a small smile anda nod as he passed her, heading into the office she had just been peering into.

Alex pulled your chair out, quickly catching Spencer's attention, his brows furrowed as his head snapped towards Alex.

"I come in peace, dude." Alex chuckled, his hands raised as he sat down beside him, bumping your chair gently into Spencer's.

Spencer grinned, quickly putting on a face as he removed his headphones. He wasn't stupid, he knew why Alex was here. Everyone saw him rushing off of the set, and he probably got texted about it by someone. He wouldn't be surprised if you were avoiding your desk to keep from being questioned or questioning him yourself.

"What's wrong, Spencer?" Alex asked nonchalantly as he picked up a pen from your desk, grabbing a sticky note as he began to doodle.

A small laugh left Spencer as he shook his head, roling his eyes. Alex raised a brow as he glanced over, not believing the act that was being put on.

"I'm good, I just wasn't feeling great. I think Josh tried to poison me." Spencer chuckled, turning back to his monitor, effectively ending their conversation.

Alex huffed, nodding as he placed the pen back into the cup he'd pulled it from. He stood from your chair, placing the sticky note to the corner of Spencer's monitor.

"Well, if you're lying and you wanna talk, I'm here." He smiled softly as Spencer nodded, mumbling a thanks.

Spencer placed his headphones on, his eyes drawn to the bright green paper covered in different doodles of dicks.

You made your way to Rachel's desk after you'd finished your lunch, pouting as you arrived. She cooed, pouting over dramatically back at you.

"What's up, buttercup?" She grinned, causing you to smile softly, her warmth radiating. You didn't want to leave work early today, but your headache just seemed to get worse.

Today was your announcement day. Rachel, Kiana, and Lizzy had spent weeks picking the photos you and Spencer were to post, which videos would be coming out immediately after the announcement video itself, and helping find everything you need this far before the actual wedding.

Rachel had specific instructions on when you and Spencer needed to post to your different social medias; the schedule outlined perfectly in your calendar by Erin.

You let her know that you were heading home but you promised up and down, pinkies wrapped together and all, that you wouldn't miss it.

You let your walk drag on as you headed back to your desk, your nerves only making your headache worse as you dreaded the possibility of seeing Spencer again. This wasn't usual, you'd never once wished not to see him. You normally spent so much of your alone time wishing you were alone with him.

You found yourself exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding as you were greeted with empty chairs and blank screens.

You rushed to grab your things, no idea just how quickly he'd be to return. You pulled an irish exit as you left the building, longing for the comfort of your bed and your kitty.

Spencer hadn't planned on leaving his desk anytime soon. He didn't have any upcoming deadlines to meet, but he did need a distraction. Maybe these next few months of wedding-less videos was for the best.

Maybe the distance between the two of you was for the best at this point. He fucked up, and the realization of just how terrible the situation he'd put you two in was finally setting in.

You two were getting married over a stupid joke and he's still in love with you. He's definitely fallen so much more in love with you in this time, but that probably isn't a good thing.

His phone buzzed, causing him to jump a bit, lost in his thoughts again.

"come to my office need ur opinion"

"seriously come here spencer I will drag you here"

He felt a tug at the corner of his lips as the second message came through.

"otw calm down"

He rubbed his eyes, saving his work before trudging down the hall and into Kiana's office, sliding himself into the seat in front of her desk as she chuckles, shaking her head.

"Hey," Kiana began softly, her brows furrowed as she glanced at Spencer, noticing just how tired he looked. "Are you oka-"

"I'm okay." Spencer cut her off, sitting up in the seat, finally fed up.

"I swear l'm okay. Why does everyone keep asking me if l'm okay?" Spencer scoffed, shrugging. Kiana was quick to forgive him, knowing that Spencer's anger wasn't directed at her.

"Because you're obviously not okay, dude. Can you at least tell me what's wrong? don't have to give you advice if you don't want it, just think you should get it off your chest, Spence Kiana reasoned, desperate to allow him the space to vent.

Spencer slumped back into the seat again, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that the door has closed behind him before he looked back to Kiana, the concern in her eyes causing his guilt to grow.

"This stays between us, everything I say, okay?" Spencer sounded almost desperate as he looked to Kiana with his brows raised, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded, sitting back as her silence encouraged him to speak.

"I love Y/N so fucking much and it's making this so hard. I didn't even think that would happen want it to be real so badly. It feels so natural I almost want to believe that she loves me too." Spencer chewed his lip as Kiana nodded her head, humming in thought. She always has to stall when she was in these situations. You two often bitched about your feelings to her, leaving her to find quick ways to cover up her knowledge.

She refused to meddle with your relationship, no matter how badly she wanted to. Kiana never revealed that the two of you liked each other, but she could try her best to hint at it.

"Why can't she want the same thing? There's no way to tell that she isn't feeling the same exact way that you are." Kiana sighed as an alarm went off on Spencer's phone, cursing under his breath.

How was it 4PM already? He had planned to be with you when you posted your photos to instagram, expecting to see a message or call from you when he checked his phone. His throat felt dry as he found nothing. Kiana looked to him with worry once more as Spencer's face fell.

"ls Y/N here?" He asked, brows furrowed as he began selecting the pictures from his camera roll slowly, still holding out some hope.

"No, she left a few hours ago, she felt terrible." Kiana shook her head as Spencer looked up to her, his heart falling into his stomach at her Words.

Was this his fault? He hadn't thought you'd stress this much over him. Maybe you were stressing about the whole thing. It had just hit Spencer just how deep into this you were, maybe itd just hit you as well.

He quickly hit post, expecting to see a notification of your post shortly after. He waits a few minutes, aimlessly refreshing his feed before finally locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket.

"Ki, I'm gonna stay home tomorrow, I'll work on my editing still, I just don't really wanna be here." Spencer spoke softly as he stood, Kiana following his actions, nodding softly. She rounded the desk, enveloping him into a warm hug. Kiana gave him a gentle squeeze as she rubbed his back.

"Let me know if you need anything." She smiled, walking him to the door before watching him sprint down the hall.

Spencer had exactly twenty eight minutes until the video was posted. Rachel had wanted to build the excitement beforehand, small hints being left in the other videos posted this week.

He wanted to be as far away from the building as possible when the video was posted, there was no way he could handle the chaos at the building without you. He was so grateful your in time was later than his, causing him to drive himself to work this morning, a rarity nowadays.

Spencer grabbed everything and left without any goodbyes. He went home and went through his routines, but stayed as far from his phone as possible, spending most of the night editing as a means for distraction.

As Spencer brushed his teeth, refusing to look at himself in the mirror, scared to see the tired man staring back at him, a buzz of his phone catches his attention. He finally unlocks it, his feed opening where he had left it. Your post appeared at the top, having been made just minutes ago. Six hours and nineteen minutes after the scheduled time with zero explanation.

Was this a point you were trying to prove? He thought you really cared about this, Spencer believed you two had been on the same page with that at least.

This didn't feel like you, you were punctual, you apologize for being minutes late to meetings. This felt almost intentional.

Meanwhile, you awoke in a panic, your vision blurry as you rubbed your eyes. Your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You unlock it to what seemed like hundreds of notifications, your sleepy fog clearly quickly as you cursed loudly.

Your cat, Craig, jumped from his spot at the edge of your bed, quickly darting down the hall as he meowed loudly.

Your fingers moved just as quickly as your cat as you made your post, sending it off before you sent off many, many apology texts to everyone freaking out over your silence and tardiness. Kiana felt a weight lift from her shoulders as your apology lit up her screen, quickly followed by a request to stay home, pulling a chuckle from your friend.

Spencer and you could avoid each other tomorrow, but probably not much longer.

You two were getting married, for fuck's sake.

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respect-the-hyphen · 1 month

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ok also another son’s fit to rate

solid teensy/10

look at him. he's just a baby <3

#spiderman #spider man #marvel spiderman #mcu #marvel #marvel mcu #spider speaking #marvel cinematic universe #peter parker #queue #damien wayne

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mattie24601 · 1 month

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Oops, started writing a Leverage OT3 Romeo and Juliet AU. Basically Parker and Hardison are working for different crews/leaders (Archie and Nate respectively) but also Eliot is still working for Moreau who very much wants Parker on his side because she's the best thief in the world, so he sends Eliot to essentially kidnap her after a job.

#writing #fanfic #mine #fanfic writing #leverage #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #leverage ot3 #we shall see how dark it's gonna get since it /is/ for class #long story #anyway what i'm turning in today ends with eliot being super creepy because damien moreau swiss cheese brain #i initially had a different idea of what i wanted to do for my final #but then i had way too much fun figuring this stuff out

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achillean-knight · 6 months

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There is a distinct lack of Trans Noir art and head canons and I present my own art to make myself feel better SHBSBSBSBSB

ALSO I will get to asks asap!! I just need to finish a few things and had to draw this for myself

👉👈

#dude ive had constant dysphoria for 2 weeks straight i had to do this for myself #if you dont like HC's like this that's ok!!! just please move on from this :')#this was literally to make myself feel better and i genuinely felt some sort of relief after doodling these #theres a distinct lack of FTM rep that all i got is Damien from Dream Daddy and Utsumi from Our Dreams at Dusk #this was for me mainly but wanted to share incase others needed something like this!#my art #spider noir #spiderman noir #doodles #personal #peter benjamin parker #kicking my feet i love him to death #also bc of my cosplay i have entered a turtleneck phase.#my spidernoir au art

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lemissingmask · 6 months

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[ID: Partially coloured sketch of part of an old building, with an old wooden door and low wall showing, and some red flowers on the left side of the image. The low wall has a crudely drawn block image of a wolf with a bushy tail and fangs and breathing fire. End ID]

Day 19: Taken for granted

The Leverage crew take for granted the story of someone who flees into the brewpub for protection, and suffer the consequences.

Ficlet below the cut, which hopefully explains the obscure art.

It had been a mistake, a stupid failure in their personal security, and one that Hardison would never forgive himself for if they failed to get Eliot back.

Checking out the clients, verifying their stories and their backgrounds, that was his job. He was the only one with the skills to do it.

And he did. He usually always did.

But this time, he had not.

At least not until it was too late.

He took for granted that the terrified woman who had fled into the brewpub to hide from her two pursuers was legit. Hell, there had been two suits - former marines according to some distinctive feature Eliot picked out - lurking outside the building waiting for her.

Eliot had dealt with the muscle without the least difficulty, and then they had all listened to her story.

She told the leverage crew that she had been on her way to meet with her lawyer, who was helping her take down her former boss for money laundering, when she found the two men to be following her.

She gave them a background on her boss, how she found out about the criminal activity, and how since then she had been fired, harassed and had her car broken into.

So they took her on as a client, and Eliot drove her to a safehouse while Parker and Hardison got started on the case.

They had only just finished and wrapped up their last one, they were all on the tired side, but they could hardly do nothing when this woman needed help.

Except she didn’t.

The boss existed but she had never worked for him. He ran the company she claimed to have been employed by, but neither the financial situation of the company nor the boss was good enough to imply any sort of money laundering activity. What’s more, there was no digital trail to suggest any payments from that boss or anyone or anything linked to him to imply that he had hired professional muscle.

It wasn’t definitive, but something didn’t feel right, so then, and only then, Hardison got around to looking into their client.

Her background looked believable on the surface but one layer down it fell apart.

Profiles on social media built within the last month and backdated to make them seem older, no digital trail for her existence. No bank accounts, no SSN, no credit history.

And then facial recognition said her name was not Lucy, but Mary. And Sophia. And Clarissa, Diana, Francesca…

“She’s a grifter?!” Parker looked up at the screens where Hardison had the salient information projected, “Why? What does she want?”

“Maybe she heard of us and is auditioning?” Hardison suggested, not believing that idea for a second, “Eliot, you catch that?”

Silence over the comms.

Hardison pulled up their comm feeds. Working fine, Eliot’s was still on, sending system updates and pings.

“Eliot?” Parker asked, her comm showing the sound waves.

Eliot’s remained nothing more than base level of noise.

“Where is he?”

Hardison accessed the gps, “Safe house.”

Parker frowned, “Eliot! You copy us?”

“Maybe he and Lucy or whatever her name is are…”

“No,” Parker glared at the fake IDs on the screen, “Eliot wouldn’t do that. He still gets angry with himself for taking his comms out once before.”

More than once, to Hardison’s count, but it was true, not since the incident with the music producer and Nate having no backup.

She gave those IDs one more, lingering glare, and straightened, “I’ll drive.”

For once Hardison didn’t object. If something was wrong, even just potentially wrong, they needed to get to that safehouse and to Eliot as fast as they could, which meant Parker driving Lucille..

Hardison kept his laptop open in the passenger seat, checking the gps signal and keeping up attempts to reach Eliot by phone or comms. He and laptop only slammed into the window about four or five times in fifteen minute drive, which was pretty good he thought.

Not that there was time to feel proud.

Eliot’s Challenger was in the drive out front, parked normally. Nothing odd or hurried or wrong there.

Inside the house itself things were similarly apparently fine.

Alarms correctly disabled, mechanical locks unbroken, no sign of a struggle. In fact nothing out of place other than the two cups of coffee unfinished on the kitchen counter, and beside one of them Eliot’s phone and earbud, both in tact and still switched on. Alongside them lay the necklace Eliot almost never removed.

Hardison slipped that into his pocket and picked up the phone.

“I’m gonna search the house.”

Hardison turned quickly from the counter to Parker, putting the phone back down and immediately abandoning his plans to check through it, “Not alone you’re not.”

Whoever got the jump on Eliot - something nearly impossible on its own - could still be there, not expecting them to realise the grift so quickly, or maybe waiting for them in a trap that this could very easily be.

The house was empty and undisturbed. No trap but also no Eliot.

Traffic cams. Find the cars that could have left that area in the window between them arriving and their last contact with Eliot. Trace each identified car through the network of cameras, run each plate, look for something that seemed to be a lead.

Parker was still driving Lucille as Hardison initiated this search.

On top of Eliot going missing, someone luring him from the brewpub meant it was burned. Someone who had bad intentions for at least one of them now knew their base of operations. Before they could do anything further, they needed to head back and get everything essential or sensitive and get it into Lucille. They’d have to go on the road for a while, move to one of the safe houses, and operate from there until they had a handle on this fresh disaster.

They could do that while Hardison’s codes ran, scouring traffic cams and DVLA databases and cross-referencing with everyone - all the aliases of those people - who had ever or might ever have a grudge against Leverage.

Luckily, they did have a clear protocol for moments like this, and they had a specific plan for the brewpub, which served as a place of employment for a few dozen people as well as their base.

They dealt with the Leverage part of things - data, files, emergency funds, possessions of personal value - then told the employees to take two weeks paid leave starting when the last customers there already had gone. After two weeks, they would evaluate the safety of keeping the pub open, or even of returning to Portland, but whatever they did, the staff would not be collateral damage.

By the time the two of them had finished these tasks and returned to Lucille, Parker starting back out in the direction of the safe house where Eliot had been lost, Hardison’s codes had produced some usable data, and even more usable intelligence.

The data, lists of car registrations and their owners, was essentially useless, until cross-referenced against aliases they knew, which picked out one belonging to their recent grifter. Tracking that car through the cameras led to either an airfield or an industrial complex.

Hardison immediately started looking into who owned or rented property at the industrial site, and what flights had left the airfield within the window of Eliot’s disappearance.

There was a Dean Chesney who rented a warehouse in the industrial area, but obviously not the same Dean Chesney they had wrangled with since that guy had been dead some years now. There was a supervisor elsewhere in the district whose surname was Doyle, who couldn’t be utterly discounted as a relative of the Doyle who they had conned, but even if it was the same person, luring and kidnapping the hitter was not his style.

The airfield showed one flight landing, two leaving, in the time window they had approximated. The departures were, respectively, to Malta and Cyprus.

Hardison’s hope dwindled as he looked at the names of the people who owned the planes and their known associates, not a single one coming up as any likely enemy of them or of Eliot specifically.

But then he looked at the photo IDs.

And, now it all made horrifying, sickening sense.

“Damien Moreau?!” Parker was pacing back and forth in front of the comparatively small screen in their safehouse, “He escaped San Lorenzo and we didn’t know about it?!”

Hardison shook his head, looking from her back to his screen, “I’m contacting Eliot’s friend there now. If he knew, he would have told Eliot.”

“And Eliot would have told us,” Parker paused for a moment, pursing her lips, then resumed the pacing, “We need to warn Nate and Sophie. If Moreau wants revenge…”

“I’ll send an encrypted message, tell they to lay low, be cautious, but,” he looked back up, “If I tell them it’s Moreau and he’s taken Eliot…”

“They’ll want to get involved.”

They lapsed into silence, Hardison working on both the lines of contact, Parker pacing in her anxiety and frustration.

Moreau had to want revenge. It made sense. They had ruined him, got him locked up in some hole of a prison, and put him on the most-wanted list for some of the most powerful governments.

So, at least he probably wasn’t going to just kill Eliot…they had time to rescue him…

“What do we know about this alias?” Parker asked, appearing over his shoulder just as the messages both disappeared to their destined inboxes.

Hardison pulled up the information he had obtained but thus far only glanced briefly at, “Not much. The digital trail only goes back about a year, but it starts, pretty much, with one very big payment into a bank based in Bermuda from a…”

He dug a bit deeper into the source of the money, a company that didn’t really exist in any proper sense, set up just to make that payment, and set up by one of the very powerful billionaires who Moreau had once worked with.

Maybe he blackmailed his way out and back into a fortune.

“Looks like from someone he used to do business with,” Hardison shrugged, “He also paid a large part of it straight back out to a law firm, with another two payments over the following year.”

“So he got himself a lawyer?” Parker frowned, “A lawyer good enough to get him released from San Lorenzo under a new name and with a lovely big cheque waiting for him on the other side?”

“Maybe,” Hardison carried on searching, an activity fairly routine for him by now, “We gotta figure out where he took Eliot.”

“And how to get Eliot back. Moreau’s security is going to be tight, even if he’s lost most of his money and influence…the flight went to Cyprus, right?”

“Yeah,” Hardison was about to continue his answer when he saw an email from General Flores, which he quickly read before related to Parker, “Flores knew nothing about Moreau’s release. None of the government did…it was done on the whisper. And I mean, the serious whisper…someone with a lot of money or power had to have orchestrated it…”

“And we can dig into that later,” Parker said firmly, “First we have to get Eliot back.”

Hardison couldn’t agree more, “Two tickets to Cyprus, coming right up.”

Cyprus. Over twenty hours total of travelling, only about five of which allowed any sort of digital investigation into where Moreau was, what his security was like, and who had managed to get him released without anyone knowing. They had enough information for Parker to be rotating possible plans in her mind during the flight, much of which was spent looking absently out the window at the wing of the plane, and during which neither of them slept at all.

It was impossible not to think about what Moreau would do to Eliot, and the myriad dark thoughts that crossed Hardison’s mind made him really wished he had watched fewer horror films.

The guy had earned his reputation among the criminal community. He was ruthless and people did not cross him. Until Leverage had, and now they were paying for it.

By the time they reached Cyprus, they had three likely locations where Eliot would have been taken, approximate security profiles for two of them, and maybe half a formed Plan A for getting their hitter back.

This had become three complete security profiles and a hierarchy of probabilities for the locations, as well as vague Plans A-S (skipping M), by the time they reached the town in Pafos where Moreau had at least one property.

It was early morning when they reached the town, the old streets nearly devoid of human life, making the slow approach towards Moreau’s property feel almost dreamlike as the small rental car moved through the pale, thin light. They expected to see some sort of security outside the building, but as they approached closer on foot, they saw nothing. Some lights on inside, but no people or movement other than the gentle rustling of the oleander plants scattered around the exterior.

It was quiet, peaceful, calm.

Hardison jumped, almost screamed, at the suddenly hard nudge Parker gave him. But he managed to keep quiet, and turned, seeing where she was pointing.

On a low wall at the far side of the building from them, in thick, black paint, there was a sort of stick-figure wolf with a bushy tail and that seemed to be breathing fire. The paint had dripped in places, and in others, over the pale bricks, it seemed to have either faded or deeper into the porous rock. Not enough to obscure the image, however.

“Eliot signal?” Parker mouthed, hope blossoming in her eyes.

Hardison swallowed.

Maybe.

Moreau wouldn’t know anything about that, and it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

“Stay here,” Parker whispered into his ear, and began to make her way towards the signal, but Hardison quickly caught her arm and pointed to a camera camouflaged with the building's wall.

"Can you disable them?"

"I'm working on it..." he carried out the same procedure he had thousands of times before, assessing the cameras, working out if and how to get into them - loop the feed. Just needed to record a few seconds. Enough for Parker to get past unseen. There were five exterior cameras...except they were all showing static on his phone screen, already disabled. The same for the interior cameras.

"Someone beat us to it," Hardison looked back at Parker nervously. It had to have been Eliot, and that was a good thing, but then why did he feel so uneasy.

"I'm going," she whispered, "Stay here."

Cameras were out, but there might still be patrols, people inside, even though it was still very early and hopefully they were asleep.

Hardison watched Parker until she disappeared around the corner of the building, and he was left alone to wait in that eerily peaceful silence. He kept his phone out, watching the camera feeds and looking into what he could access of other systems inside.

The feeds never deviated from the static, and there didn't seem to be anything else with an operating system inside to attack, other than a few smartphones. But Moreau hadn't exactly been a high-tech bad guy. More of an old-school, send goons in the night to assassinate his enemies bad guy.

Hardison grimaced at that thought.

Eliot had once been one of those goons.

“Hardison!”

The hissed name over comms nearly made him jump, breaking his train of thought.

“I’ve found Eliot,” Parker whispered, “He’s unconscious and he's not waking up. His leg's shot and his feet are all messed up, and he…he looks really bad...should I taser him?”

"What?!"

"To wake him up!"

"No, Parker. Don't taser him," Hardison replied very extra care to be very clear, then added, “You see any guards anywhere?”

“No. You're clear. It's totally quiet. Just stay low and avoid the windows."

Hardison took a deep breath and followed Parker’s path along the side of the building, round the corner, and into a yard that overlooked the ocean.

The two were a lot closer than Hardison expected, in a small half-covered alcove at the back of the yard.

Eliot was sitting up, leaning back against the stone wall with Parker beside him. His left leg was bloody, a tourniquet tied not far above his knee, and the soles of his bare feet were, as Parker had said, pretty messed up. Bloody and red and bruised. His right hand, unmoving on his lap, was obviously broken, and two bands of deep bruising crossed his exposed torso, stark against his too pale skin.

Matching bruises over his arms and wrists suggested some sort of restraint strong enough to have bruised the skin. Maybe fractured the bone beneath. Maybe internal injuries…

Hardison swallowed back his nausea, burying the worst case scenarios running through his brain.

Eliot had escaped far enough to get here and to leave them a signal, so he had to be okay-ish. Nothing acutely urgent...maybe it was blood loss or dehydration or hypothermia...he did look very pale and his lips maybe a touch blue. Moreau probably hadn't been exactly generous with food or drink, so it might be something as simple as that.

“Okay,” Hardison took a slow, steadying breath as he felt Eliot's thready pulse, “Parker, go ahead and let me know if anyone’s in the windows. I’ll carry him. We get him to the car, get some supplies, and get outta here.”

She nodded and hopped to her feet, running ahead. Hardison carefully slipped his arms under Eliot and stood, gritting his teeth as his legs and back protested him standing with the added weight.

The first few metres were fine, but with all the stopping and starting while Parker checked the way was clear, Hardison’s legs and arms were burning by the time he reached the car. He didn’t have time to deal with it though. They needed to get the hell out of here.

With minimal discussion, they arranged themselves so Parker drove and Hardison sat up across the back seats, Eliot propped up against him, hopefully absorbing some of his body heat. As much as Parker driving was not the best thing for someone with severe injuries, this was the way it had to be for when they stopped at a pharmacy.

It was still too early for anything to be open, so Hardison disabled the alarm and camera remotely, while Parker broke into the first pharmacy they found with no one nearby.

“Grab sterile gauze, bandages, disinfectant, painkillers…electrolyte replenishing stuff…if they’ve got one an emergency blanket.”

“The shiny one?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

A few minutes later she reappeared, a lollipop in her mouth, and shoved the supplies into the car, ripping open the blanket and tossing it at Hardison while he rearmed the alarm and cameras to hide the break in as much as possible.

They really needed to not leave any sort of trail behind them.

While Parker kept driving, heading towards the next district, Hardison wrapped the blanket over Eliot. He should try to make him drink something, but doing that while he was unconscious would probably just make him choke.

Just as Hardison was mentally running through all the first aid Eliot had taught them, he felt the man in his arms shift slightly.

Then he fell motionless again.

Hardison squeezed him very lightly, "El? Eliot?"

Eliot moved again, making a soft, almost pained, sound.

"Parker! Parker, pull over."

She did with a little more abruptness than Hardison had hoped for, but then he had sounded pretty urgent. Urgent enough that she looked outright terrified when she opened the door to the back seats.

But then she broke into a smile.

"Eliot!"

"Hey," he rasped, voice heavy and rough.

Parker hopped into the back with them as Eliot tried to sit up, helping him to shift to rest against the back of a seat rather than Hardison. Able to see him better now, Eliot looked just as awful as back at Moreau's place. Maybe a bit more colour to his cheeks, but that was it.

"You okay, man?"

Eliot glared tiredly. He never liked that question.

"You were very unconscious."

"Drugged," he replied, and now his groggy state made more sense, "Moreau was gettin' ready to transport me somewhere else. Got out before it took effect."

Got out, but not fully away.

He must have had just enough time to escape before whatever sedative or paralytic or cocktail it was got to him. Enough time to escape and leave a signal for them to find.

"Here," Hardison twisted the top off a bottle of isotonic flavoured water from the pharmacy and passed it over, "You got it?"

This last as Eliot's hand shook when he took the bottle. But the hitter just nodded tiredly and drank steadily. Three long gulps, and he passed it back.

"Thanks."

"We liked the Eliot signal," Parker smiled up from her new position sitting comfortably in the footwell where no adult human should be able to sit comfortably.

"How'd you know we'd be there?" Hardison asked, "I mean, what if someone else found your graffiti or it washed away?"

"Moreau was keepin' tabs on you. Heard 'im say somethin' 'bout a plane arrivin' from Oregon. Figured you'd find the place soon enough."

"Speaking of, we should probably get going before Moreau comes after us..."

"Moreau ain't gonna be a problem anymore."

They both looked sharply at him. And then looked away, Hardison first, then Parker, realising the blunder in their evident alarm.

Eliot hadn't missed their reactions, but he spoke on as if he had been entirely unaware, "Should call cops an' get 'em to that place.”

“Do you think his men will try to follow us?” Parker asked.

Eliot began to reply, but he broke off. He shut his eyes, jaw clenching, and took an unsteady breath. Whatever Moreau had drugged him with was strong.

“Don’ know. Maybe. They might try to score an easy bounty or somethin’,” he paused again, and Hardison could see him shaking slightly under the blanket, “With cops on ‘em they’ll hafta lay low. Less likely to chase us.”

Hardison nodded, watching as Eliot continued to struggle against some pain or exhaustion or whatever it was, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll get on that now. Cops to Moreau's place...but we should get going. Stop at a hotel...you look pretty bad, El."

Eliot half-glared, half-frowned, caught between confusion and irritation, like he was attempting his usual grumpy but the lingering effects of the drug were getting in the way.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Eliot did, really, look damn awful, it would have been adorable. Hardison almost smiled as he turned his focus to his phone to make the call.

As Parker drove, Hardison kept a close eye on Eliot, who slowly drank his way through the electrolyte drink. More than twice, he seemed to almost slip back into unconsciousness or sleep, but he was obviously trying to fight it.

Hardison had got pretty good at knowing when Eliot wanted to talk, when he wanted just to listen, and when he wanted only silence. Now he wanted silence, and Hardison and Parker gave it to him.

Twenty minute to drive to the nearest fancy hotel, where Parker helped Eliot sneak in while Hardison checked him and Parker in under their aliases.

Then over an hour while Eliot cleaned and patched up his injuries, Parker and Hardison helping where he couldn’t manage with his left hand alone or when his strength started to slip.

They had to help with the extraction of a bullet from his shin, which was particularly gory and made Hardison very glad of Parker’s dexterity and not being bothered by blood, with getting some splinters of wood out of the cuts on his feet. Cleaned up, those didn’t look as bad as before. There were numerous narrow gashes and a lot of bruising, but nothing was too deep. It still looked horrible and was probably really painful. But it wasn’t damage to the extent Hardison had feared.

But by the end of their makeshift medical activities, and after a bath during which Eliot submitted to allowing them both to help, their hitter looked more like himself again. Worn out and subdued in the way he usually was after especially rough fights or bad injuries, but no worse than they had seen him before.

And he was behaving more like himself too, with the effects of the drug wearing off. It did away with the unease that Eliot's remark about Moreau had set upon them. Even after all this time, Hardison could never fully reconcile the Eliot he knew with the Eliot who killed people, and that moment had been the closest the two had ever come to meeting.

But now, their Eliot sat on the plush couch of their hotel suite, bandaged feet resting on a cushion on the coffee table, with Parker pressed close on one side, munching on a sweet pastry she had stolen from the hotel restaurant. Hardison was a little way off, making use of the small desk to work on bolstering their cover.

He had just posted a couple of photos to the social media of his alias to help their covers.

“Parker and I are here on holiday," he said, finishing a Tweet and looking up, "Eliot I’ve got you an alias set up for when we head back. How long do you need before you fly?”

“Couple of days.”

“We should stay at least a week to keep our covers good,” Parker pointed out, “A few days vacation is gonna look odd.”

“Two weeks?” Hardison suggested, “That’ll give me time to start sorting out a new base.”

Eliot frowned, “New base?”

“Portland’s blown. Moreau knew where to find us. No way to tell who else might know.”

The hitter looked away, letting out a frustrated breath.

“What we gonna do with the brewpub?”

“I’ll sell it. Make sure the employees are kept on or get compensation…we still need to move some things, clear out, but…”

“Can we set up our new base in Pennsylvania?” Parker interrupted excitedly.

Hardison frowned, and Eliot supplied the answer, “It’s the state that produces the most chocolate.”

“I was thinking Florida.”

Parker pouted, “Doesn’t Florida pollen make you cry?”

“Yeah man,” Eliot smiled teasingly, reassuringly like himself, “Can’t have you cryin’ your way through our jobs.”

Hardison rolled his eyes and moved over to join them, bringing his laptop and prepared to launch into the inevitably long debate over where they should move next. They had two weeks here, so they had time to discuss it in depth. Maybe enough time to go see some sights, do some touristy things, or just binge watch some classic TV and movies in the hotel.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Day 19: Taken for granted #leverage #alec hardison #parker #eliot spencer #damien moreau #cw implied torture #cw blood mention

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