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fiction-boys-rule · 3 years

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Imagine...joining the Leverage team and liking Eliot.

Pairing: Eliot Spencer/(Y/N)

Warnings: slight violence, fluff

Word Count: 2,200

Boring real life has been very stressful lately so writing has been non existent. If any of you have any ideas or requests, I am happy to take them. The characters I write for are very limited and this year I’m working on changing that, so my apologies. Hope you enjoy :)

You blow out the candles, smiling as the team claps and cheers. Nate holds up his glass from his position on the couch, making you roll your eyes and smile.

“Did you make a wish?” Parker asks, gazing up at you.

“Yeah.”

“What was it?” Hardison asks.

Parker quickly slaps his forearm, making him protest and glare over at her.

“What the-“

“You know that if you say a birthday wish out loud it doesn’t count!”

“Why not? That’s kids stuff.” He frowns.

“It doesn’t come true! And it’s not kids stuff!” Parker glares at him.

“Alright, guys. I won’t say my wish, okay? Let’s just have some cake.” You intervene.

Sophie smiles over at you before you cut the cake and serve everyone. Later, you gratefully take a glass of whiskey from Nate and enjoy the silence of the apartment. Everyone else has gone off to do other things while Nate and you decided to stay behind.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t say my wish, but can I still say it?”

Nate leans back in his chair, lazily looking over at you.

“Well, I don’t believe in those things. If you don’t put it out there and chase it, how will you get it? I guess you can consider me the devils advocate here.”

“Alright. I’ll indulge you. My wish was to finally be able to go out and help you guys.”

“Help us?” He eyes you warily.

“Yeah. I mean I know I do already in my own way but I just really want to see what it’s like out there. Even if it’s just being in the background.”

“You’re already in the background. With Hardison. Safe background.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not what I meant. Don’t you want me to see how this works? I mean you always complain that I don’t get it. So let me get it. Come on. I promise I’ll listen to you and play it safe. But let me have some fun, please!”

“That’s the problem. It’s not ‘fun’ out there, kid. It’s a job. I don’t know if you can handle it.”

“Handle it? You know what I can’t handle? Hardison for one more day! No offense to him but I can’t stand another day stuck with him in that hot van! I can’t, Nate! I’m going crazy! Stir crazy! Can you at least let me do this once? Please!”

“What’s so bad with Hardison?”

“Parker this, Parker that. He’s always talking about her and I wouldn’t mind it if he actually went and told her how he feels! He reminds me of someone I know and I can’t stand it!”

“That person you know is that bad?”

“Yes, he is! And he’s not granting me my birthday wish!”

You lean back and sigh, glaring at him. He sighs, holding his face in his hands.

“Bad enough I have to accommodate everyone else and now you? You’re the one I like because you never ask for anything!”

“I’m asking for one thing and suddenly you don’t like me?”

He grumbles, sighing heavily and rubbing his face.

“The alcohols not going to kill me, it’s going to be you or Sophie.”

“Oh, I guarantee you that. We’re already planning your murder. We have plans A to C done. How much does your ex hate you by the way?”

He suddenly looks up and sends you an annoyed glare. You laugh softly, running your fingertips on the rim of your glass.

“You remember how I had that friend whose dad owns a whiskey company? Well, they offer care packages for people they know and the discounts are so good. But it’s not my favorite and I don’t want it to go to waste. Don’t want my friend to think I’m taking advantage of them. But they did offer me a full tour of their distillery. Full of test tasting, complimentary dinner, drinks-“

“Sophie is going to kill me.” He groans, shaking his head side to side.

“Well that was going to happen either way.”

He groans, taking a bigger swig.

“Just listen to everyone and don’t get in the way of them doing their job. I’m pairing you with Eliot. So far you’ve been getting along. I think he likes you.”

“Likes me?” You stutter.

How would Nate know about your crush on Eliot? How would anyone know?

“Yeah, well he brings you your favorite drink every day and he got you that gift.”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“I’m not doing this right now. Leave me in peace and regret and I’ll update the team later.”

You slowly get up and smile as soon as you close his office door. Checkmate.

Time Skip

"While I'm proud of you, we don't know who we are dealing with exactly. You've seen it before. Us, the professionals, even get in trouble sometimes. But we trust Nate to make a plan to bail us out."

You frown as you see all of the orange soda in the fridge. Choosing to just grab bottled water, you close it and turn to a very worried looking Sophie.

"I'm going with Eliot. It'll be fine. I’ll be fine."

"By any chance, did you have a say in who you were joining?"

She peers innocently at you.

"No. Nate just said and I went along with it."

You take a swig and watch as she looks away.

"Ah, I see.”

“Why?"

"It's nothing."

She gives you one last undecipherable look before heading to the couch and sitting next to Parker. You frown. Even being with the team almost a year, you didn't know everyone that well yet. When you had applied for a “secretary title with a concoction of ever changing duties” position working alongside Nate, this was the last thing you expected. You’re glad you took a risk and gave them the benefit of the doubt. It took a while to gain their trust, but they eventually liked you and included you more and more in what they actually did. It was probably because they liked the extra manpower and variety than their already established and constant team members. You sit on the couch and wait for Nate to come reveal the big plan.

"So, you're tagging along with Eliot?" Hardison asks while typing away at his laptop.

"Uh, yeah."

He clicks his tongue while shaking his head.

"You're going to regret it. Eliot isn't the best or easiest to work with."

“Then who is?"

He looks over at you with a “really?” look.

"Obviously me. I would love to teach someone my skills."

You nod slowly and laugh.

“What's so funny?"

"Eliot also said that about you, remember?"

"You mean the Denzel case?"

"Yeah."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about."

You laugh and look over at the door opening. You see Eliot and he comes in, sitting next to you.

"Hey." You smile.

"Hey. Where's Nate?"

"Probably getting drunk in his office. Want me to go get him?"

"You shouldn't. He'll come out eventually. Probably thinking about his big plan." Sophie says.

"Alright! Is the whole team here?"

You all turn your heads towards Nate.

Time Skip

"A basement is a pretty bad place to hide a bunch of cash. Just saying." You mumble as you follow Eliot through a hallway.

“Yeah, well some people aren't as smart as others."

You quickly turn your head around a corner to check for any guards.

"You know, I thought you would be mad, or even annoyed, that Nate let me tag along."

He turns his head around a corner.

"Yeah, well I think it's a good way to learn something. I like to teach. Just don’t make Hardison my student.” he grumbles.

You run towards a door. He opens it and you squeeze in.

"Alright. That's the control room. See a metal box?" Hardison says.

You tune out Hardison's orders to Eliot while you look for any guards.

“Hey, I'm going to go check the other door. That should be the door to the basement. If it's a basement." You whisper.

Eliot nods, cutting a cord.

"Yeah, go. Tell me if you see anything."

"Y/N, be careful. Just because there haven't been any guards yet, doesn't mean you should get confident." Nate says.

"I'll be fine. The door is right here." You whisper.

You open it and look in.

"It's just a big room with nothing in it. Just some vaults. There could be something in here.“

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to greet Eliot before a fist comes at you and you feel pain before darkness greets you.

"Y/N, hey. Hey. It's okay. How you feeling?"

You groan, adjusting your eyes to a bright light. Your head is pounding and your jaw is feeling sore.

"What? Where am I?"

"She's alive!" Parker yells, making you grimace.

"You okay, Y/N?" Nate asks.

Eliot clears his throat forcefully.

"A guard found you. Knocked you out pretty good. The guard blew us. We're going to have to find another way out. You okay? Not feeling dizzy? You might have a concussion."

"Yeah, I'm fine. What about the basement?"

"Forget about it. We just need to get out of here."

“We could use the window in the basement. It's small, but I bet we could fit. It leads to the backyard. All we have to do is run across the yard in the blind spot of the cameras, climb the fence and we're out of here."

"You remember all of that? Damn, Nate. She deserves a promotion." Hardison says.

"Thanks." You say softly.

Eliot shakes his head, "Lets get out of here, then."

The moon is bright after you had escaped the house and were waiting for the team to pick you up. You were leaning against a wall next to Eliot, letting the cool night breeze hit your face. You were listening to Hardison and Nate bicker about something.

"Thanks for uh-saving me, I guess." You say suddenly, breaking the silence.

Eliot looks over at you. He motions for you to take out the ear pieces and you do. He takes yours and his, and puts them in his pockets.

"What was that for?" You ask.

“We don't need to hear Hardison complaining. We get that enough already." He says.

You both laugh.

“But seriously. Thanks for helping me. But I just want you know for the future I would rather get caught than risk-"

He shakes his head, frowning.

"I don't like to think about that. Point is, it didn't happen."

You nod, looking at the moon.

"I think you did good. For your first time. I wouldn't mind having you tag along again." He says.

You smile, looking into his beautiful blue eyes. "Thanks. I enjoyed myself. And I think I’ll have a bump on my head to remind me about this little adventure."

“Well, at least you’ll still have a head, darlin’.”

You both laugh softly. He moves to stand in front of you and lays a hand on the wall.

"Just be more careful next time, alright? I don't want anything bad happening to you."

"What, I worry Big Bad Eliot?" You tease.

“Yes, you do." He says.

His low voice sends shivers down your spine. He slowly starts to lean in until his face is inches from yours. His eyes gaze at you softly. You move a hand up to his neck and gently move him closer. You both close your eyes as his lips place a small kiss on yours. Soft and slow. You shiver from an incoming gust of wind and pull him closer. You kiss him back harder as his other arm hugs your waist. He grips your waist harder and pushes you more against the wall. You moan, gently scratching at his neck. As he pulls away slowly, he bites your lower lip. He moves back and nuzzles his face in your neck. His lips press against your shoulder blade and his facial hair tickles your skin.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N.” He whispers.

You bite your lip and your arms surround his back.

“Two gifts in one day. Wow.”

You both laugh softly and he kisses your neck, holding you and comforting you with his warmth.

"So...." you whisper.

He pulls back to look down at your face and smiles.

"So...the team is here."

You quickly look over and see the van waiting at the end of the alley. Eliot grabs your hand and motions with his head. You smile and walk beside him as he leads you to the curb. He opens the van door and Hardison's shocked face greets you.

"One time. One time. And Eliot's stupid charm overtakes you. Unbelievable."

You laugh and hide your blush as you get in the van, sitting next to Eliot.

"So, I take that it went well?" Nate asks, looking at you with a knowing look.

“Yeah. Perfect." Eliot says, looking over at you with a smile.

You blush and lay your head on his shoulder.

“Surprising but it worked out in the end.” You chuckle.

Nate laughs, shaking his head as Hardison mumbles rapidly, driving all of you away.

#leverage #eliot spencer #eliot leverage #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer imagine

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thehollowprince · 4 years

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Magicians Anonymous

Okay, first off, can I just say that I loved that title of this episode alone, before we even go any further? Because I did. I loved it. Don't know why, but I did.

Anyway, let's just break this down by character.

We'll start with Fen and Josh, for the simple fact that they weren't in this episode at all, which I thought was odd. Given how things ended between them and Margo at the end of the last episode, and the fact that they're in an occupied Fillory with the man who overthrew them three hundred years ago, that can't be the safest place for them.

Margo - she didn't really have a part to play in this episode, except to be snarky (a staple) and then the big reveal cliffhanger. Though I will say that seeing Margo duel weild axes against the takers was pretty awesome.

Side note: the other centurion (Sivart) she was paired with was hot. Plus I loved the joke about Foxes and how they lie. A+ commentary on our broken political system and the media that supports it

The Dark King - I'm using him as a focal point instead of Eliot, because the latter didn't really do anything this episode, except stand around and stair into a bowl to watch the Dark King propaganda machine. But the Dark King - Sebastian - he had a part to play this episode. And I'm not focusing on him just because he was a silver fox (not entirely, anyway), but because it's interesting to see a magician perform magic that our heroes don't or can't. I mean, let's be honest, they maybe relative children in the grand scheme of things, especially compared to the more experienced magicians we've met, but they've also achieved some big stuff. I'm insanely interested to see the how and why of his ability to take on the takers.

Also, I'm really intrigued by this whole thing with the fairies. Last we saw them, they were to be included on the advisory council to the monarch of Fillory, but now they're being hunted like animals? What happened in the last three hundred years? I mean, I think @highkingfen and I cracked the whole Fairy-Taker thing last week, but I want confirmation.

Alice - I'm disappointed they put her back in those shirts, especially after we finally got to see her in normal clothes for two episodes in a row, but I will say I was happy to see her and Julia hug. For too long Alice was sort of the odd man out in their group and I'll happy to see them finally pulling her onto the "inner circle". Her little sojourn to the Library was interesting, culminating in a totally random attack from the Visigoths, who I guess are still a thing, led by a guy with a thing for her (that I think is going to come back at some point in the future... maybe like the candy cottage witch). It was nice to see Zelda again, but I would like to know what she was up to. Didn't Phyllis say she had a nervous breakdown?

It was pretty badass of Zelda to burn the books to prevent the Visigoths from claiming them, especially when I thought Alice would have just used her Phosphoromancy to hide everything. I also really like the implications of the Library not being able to spy on people or know their entire life story. It actually lends the idea of free will some credence.

Also, while we're talking Librarians, where's my girl, Shiela? Huh?

Julia - I love you, but you're a dumbass. Have we learned absolutely nothing from dealing with gods? At all? Why would she think summoning one, especially by herself, would be a good idea? I mean, Ember's balls, Julia! Come on! You're supposed to be the smart one.

And while I did appreciate the irony of Julia having to make a life-or-death choice that would irrevocably change Penny for the rest of his life without his consent, I figured we would have moved past that. She was pissed when Penny made that decision for her, but sure... the narrative demands it because we can't figure out how to stop the Apocalypse by the fourth episode.

However, I will say that this should lead to an interesting arc for Penny. He can't be everyone's magical uber anymore, and he doesn't have his psychic abilities, so hopefully we'll get to see what kind of magician he is under it all. Though I have this sickening feeling in my gut that says that he's going to travel again, because of that line about it being "like flying a seven forty-seven blind". So help me, of they kill off Penny again, I'mma be pissed.

PS: I really wasn't feelin' that whole Plum reveal. Not only her waiting until after the eleventh hour when Penny's life hung in the balance, but because it felt like they waited until the last possible second for just the shock value. Here's hoping they do something big with her that makes waiting so long worth it.

And finally, Kady and Fogg - probably my favorite part of the episode, while simultaneously making me irrationally angry. I loved the Magicians Anonymous meeting, which I guess isn't for magicians who quit magic, but magicians who quit substance abuse. Good for them for getting help, though Fogg disguising himself as a low-rent Marina was a little much.

But, things turned really interesting when they took the acid and went on their little trip to find the Dude Emperor so they could discover what happened to the depository. Whoever wrote that sequence has clearly dropped acid before.

All that being said, I'm upset that they took a man who willingly made the choice to be sober and stuck him in a universe where he'll be forever high. That doesn't sit well with me. Hopefully that's not the last time we see Fogg.

Overall, I'd give this episode a six out of ten. It was okay, but not anything fantastic. There was a lot going on, but nothing really happened, if you know what I mean? It felt more like a filler episode than anything else, and given that we're operating on a season that need to wrap up their main plot in eight episodes now, I don't think we have time for fillers. At the end of it all, I was left with more questions than answers, when we still have other questions that need answers.

#josh rambles #tm5 #s5e4: magicians anonymous #the magicians

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teatraysandtypewriters · 5 years

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These Hands Are Meant To Hold

(read on AO3)

The questers are all gathered in the Cottage living room, trying to plan their next steps. They’ve found all seven keys, but now they need to figure out how to use them, and the book is as unhelpful and cryptic as always.

They’re mid-argument—Quentin pacing and gesturing as he tries to explain what he thinks the chapter means—when suddenly there’s a flash of light and Quentin is just—gone. Except he’s not, because before Eliot can properly freak out, there’s a second flash of light and Quentin is standing there in the middle of the room again, stumbling a bit and looking dazed.

Except it’s not quite Quentin. Not the same Quentin at least. There’s something different about him—his hair is shorter, and he’s wearing different clothes, and his shoulders are somehow even more slumped, and that’s all Eliot has time to take in before Quentin catches sight of him and, with a strangled “Eliot,” launches himself at him.

Eliot hugs back tightly, reflexively, because whatever’s going on here, Eliot could never just not comfort Q when he’s like this. (And honestly, would never pass up any opportunity to hug Quentin in general.) Quentin’s hugging him like he’ll disappear if he lets go, and something is so terribly wrong.

“What the fuck?” he hears Margo demand, but Eliot is too focused on Quentin to really pay attention. Quentin, who doesn’t answer her, just burrows closer to Eliot as if any tiny speck of distance is too much. There’s a hitch to his breathing and it doesn’t take a genius to connect it to the tiny pinpricks of moisture seeping into Eliot’s shirt.

“No, seriously,” Margo continues, sounding closer. “What the fuck just happened?”

There are murmurs of agreement from the others, but Eliot can’t tell who’s making them.

Quentin finally pulls back a little and says, valiantly ignoring the fact he’s kind of crying, “I think there’s time travel involved, but honestly? I have no fucking clue.”

Time travel. Okay, why not? Honestly not the weirdest thing to happen this week.

“Well where’s our Quentin, then?” Julia asks. Right here, Eliot wants to say, because every version of Quentin is his Quentin, even if he’s not really his.

He doesn’t say it though, because he knows what she’s asking, and he’s pretty concerned about that too. It doesn’t mean he’s any less concerned for this Quentin, he just wants to know they’re both okay.

All signs, however, seem to be pointing to definitely not okay.

Quentin takes a deep, shuddering breath, and steps away from Eliot. Eliot’s body sways forward, not ready to let go. But he does—let go, that is. And gets his first good look at this future Quentin—because he must be from the future, Eliot knows the past versions too well to think otherwise—and oh god he’s a fucking mess.

His clothes are rumpled like he’s been in them for several days, and he’s thinner than Eliot’s ever seen him, and definitely not in a way that looks healthy. The dark circles under his eyes might as well be black holes, and—

“Holy shit! What the hell happened to you?” Eliot demands, stepping forward. Because there are bruises around Quentin’s neck, bruises shaped like handprints, like someone tried to strangle him, and Eliot fucking sees red. He lifts one hand to hover over the bruises, all his instincts screaming to make sure Quentin’s okay, but—

Quentin flinches.

Oh.

Because Quentin’s never rejected his touch like that before, but Eliot understands, because, because—

Oh.

Oh, Q.

Eliot takes a step back. Then another. Because he’d seen, hand hovering over one of the bruises, in that spot on Quentin’s neck he loved to hold when they kissed and—

The bruise is in the exact shape of his hand. His hand. And Quentin had flinched.

“No, wait, Eliot, it’s not what you think!” Quentin says, suddenly looking panicked and, and fucking broken and what the fuck kind of monster has Eliot become in the future?

Nothing you weren’t already, his mind whispers to him, flashes of memories—Logan, Taylor, Mike—he desperately shoves back to the dark corners of his psyche.

“Eliot,” Quentin says, stepping forward, hand outstretched, like he’s trying to comfort Eliot, like Q’s not the one with strangulation marks etched with Eliot’s fingerprints. “It wasn’t you.”

Eliot laughs harshly, and it sounds kind of like a broken sob. “So what, I was on another drug spiral or something?” It sounds like something he would do. Hell, it’s something he’s already done. He’d almost gotten all his friends killed last time and doesn’t even remember much of it. “Don’t make excuses for me.”

“No, Eliot, it literally wasn’t you.”

“Okay, can someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Penny cuts in, and Eliot had kind of forgotten that the others were there.

“Seconded,” Kady adds. Julia is glancing between Eliot and Q with confusion edging quickly towards horror. Alice looks disapproving and upset, but that’s also been her default expression lately, so Eliot can’t really tell what she’s thinking.

Quentin gives Eliot one last pleading look before reluctantly turning to the others. “Like I said, I’m not really sure. But, I mean, this is definitely the past. For me, I mean. I remember this, or, well, if this is the time I think it is then I remember it, and it’s after the Beast was killed so it’s not one of those other thirty-nine timelines, but I’m definitely from your guys’s future. Probably by like a year. And, well,” he glances back at Eliot, who is still standing stiffly to the side, eyes magnetically drawn to the handprints on Q’s neck however much he tries to look away, “there’s a lot of shit we’re dealing with right now.”

Shit that apparently involves Eliot trying to kill Quentin.

He thinks his fingers might break from how tightly he’s clenching them into fists. But he would gladly break his own fingers before he lets them get anywhere close enough to hurt Q like that.

Julia takes a deep breath. “Okay, that’s a lot to take in, but we’ve dealt with weirder, so let’s figure this out. Do you have any idea how you got here?”

“Um, maybe?” Quentin fidgets under everyone’s stares. Eliot wants to soothe him, wants to hug him, wants to stay far, far away from him. “I was researching, and it was some really old stuff that I didn’t understand, and I was kind of tired, and well, I might have read one of the spells out loud? Like I can’t really remember, but I think that might be what happened?” He trails off.

In any other circumstance, Eliot would make some fond remark about how that does sound like something Quentin would do, but, well, these aren’t normal circumstances. His mouth feels welded shut and he thinks if he were to pry it open he might start screaming and never stop.

Quentin keeps glancing back at Eliot, even as he explains, and his eyes are pleading for Eliot to understand something, but what is there to understand other than Eliot’s hands put those bruises there?

(Eliot’s hands—the hands that killed Mike, that hit Taylor. Hands that escape the guilt of Logan’s murder simply because it was Eliot’s fucking mind instead. Hands that had held Quentin through grief and joy, sickness and health. Hands that had held Quentin’s neck as they kissed, held him like Quentin was the most precious thing in this world because to Eliot he is. Those hands. Those hands that line up all too perfectly with deep, angry bruises ringing that throat he used to kiss.)

He tries closing his eyes, but his mind just pulls up the image of Quentin flinching on a loop. Which isn’t better.

Someone is talking but it’s not Quentin so Eliot isn’t sure who it is or what they’re saying. Quentin, however, twists his head to look at whoever it is, stretching the bruises on his neck taut in the process.

Eliot thinks he might throw up.

But before his body can make good on its nausea, another person appears in the center of the room. There isn’t a flash like when Quentin appeared; he’s just suddenly standing there. Someone inhales sharply, loud as a gunshot in the sudden silence, and it wasn’t Eliot but he understands the sentiment, because the person standing there is—it’s . . . Eliot. Except it’s not, because something is clearly, deeply wrong.

Eliot’s hair is long and unkempt, his jaw is covered in stubble, and he’s wearing a blood-stained graphic t-shirt that makes Eliot—the real, current Eliot—shudder with horror.

“Quentin!” the not-Eliot says with a child-like glee. “I found you!”

Everything about Quentin shifts in that moment. He visibly retreats into himself—face going blank, shoulders slouching, eyes hovering anywhere but on not-Eliot.

Oh.

Eliot thought his stomach couldn’t sink any further but somehow it does and takes his heart with it.

The . . . thing closes the distance between itself and Quentin, one hand patting his hair and one hand settling on his shoulder, dangerously close to the bruises ringing his neck.

Oh god. Eliot really might be sick.

“You’re getting better at hiding,” not-Eliot says, and the real Eliot’s head spins with the unpleasant implications of that, “but I found you anyway.”

“Yeah,” Quentin’s voice cracks. Eliot feels an echoing crack in his own chest. “You did.”

The not-Eliot frowns suddenly, the hand patting Quentin’s hair sliding down to grip his arm tightly. “I’m bored of the hiding game. You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I was,” Quentin says quickly, “I mean, I am.”

Not-Eliot’s fingers brush against the bruises on Quentin’s neck.

It wasn’t you, Quentin had said. And it wasn’t. Eliot wants to feel relieved about that but he can’t. Because it was still his hands. Because this is somehow so much worse.

That thing hurt Quentin with Eliot’s body. It’s touching Quentin with Eliot’s hands. Absentmindedly. Familiarly, as if it has the fucking right.

Eliot has no idea what’s going on but it’s so wrong he wants to scream. As it is, he can’t stop the choked off noise that escapes him.

The noise attracts the attention of not-Eliot, who turns to real-Eliot with curiosity that quickly turns to contempt. (It’s still clutching Quentin’s arm possessively and Eliot wants desperately to pull Q away, preferably into his own arms.)

“Eliot,” it snarls, stepping forwards.

Eliot is self-aware enough to know it’s not a good sign that the first time he thinks this creature truly looks like him is when he sees his own face staring back at him, filled with loathing.

Not-Eliot raises a hand threateningly and Eliot isn’t clear on what exactly it is inhabiting his body, but he has no doubt it can do magic despite their own currently magic-less circumstances.

The suspicion is really only confirmed when Quentin practically lunges forward, throwing himself between Eliot and not-Eliot. “Stop!” he commands, all traces of his former meekness gone. “You promised not to hurt Eliot, and that counts for this Eliot too.”

“Q,” Eliot pleads, because whatever deal Quentin’s struck with this thing can’t be worth it. But Quentin doesn’t even acknowledge him and Eliot has to watch as not-Eliot takes a menacing step towards Quentin, glaring.

Quentin doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move at all. Just stands there and stares down not-Eliot unblinkingly. Eliot holds his breath, bursting with the need to drag Q as far from not-Eliot as possible but knowing that’s probably a really terrible idea. The second it tries to hurt Q, though, all bets are off.

There’s a tense pause, and Eliot thinks in the back of his head that everyone else in the room seems to be holding their breath as well.

“Fine,” not-Eliot spits out, sounding more like a petulant child than anything. But before anyone in the room can relax (or not, because Eliot thinks he may never truly relax again), the thing reaches out, grabs Quentin’s shoulder, and—disappears.

It’s like the disappearance—as silent and sudden as when not-Eliot appeared—breaks some sort of spell over the room. Julia and Margo both rush forward to where Quentin had just been, Margo cursing up a very creative storm. Everyone starts speaking at once, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

But Eliot doesn’t move. Can’t move. He still feels frozen, unable to even let out the breath he’s holding.

Where did they go? Is Quentin okay? Stupid question—of course he’s not okay. Not when he’s with that—that thing.

Bruises ringing Quentin’s throat. Eliot’s fingers brushing against them. Eliot’s face, snarling at Quentin. Eliot’s hands, wrapped around Quentin’s throat, cutting off his breath.

Eliot’s lungs burn but he can’t seem to draw in air.

Where is Quentin? The current Quentin, that is.

What if not-Eliot taking future!Quentin back had messed up the spell and now Quentin is stuck somewhere in the limbo of an unfinished spell?

As if in answer to Eliot’s panicked thoughts, a light flashes in the middle of the room and when it fades, Quentin (current Quentin) is standing there, mid-sentence, his arms gesturing wildly, exactly as he’d been when he disappeared.

Eliot can breathe again. Not well or anything, but just enough he’s no longer about to pass out.

God, keep it together, Waugh.

Julia beats everyone to Quentin, hugging him tightly and looking like she’s never planning on letting go. Quentin humors her bemusedly.

“Um, what’s going on, Jules?”

Eliot ignores whatever explanation Julia gives, because all he can think of is his handprints around Quentin’s throat. The currently unblemished state of Quentin’s neck isn’t really doing a whole lot to dispel the mental image.

He meets Margo’s eyes and she nods sharply. Right.

Eliot straightens his shoulders and pushes everything to the back of his mind to fester alongside his previous fuck-ups. They’re going to stop it. They’re going to fix whatever the fuck was wrong with the future before it has a chance to come.

Whatever the fuck that was in his body, he’s never going to give it a chance to hurt Quentin. He will hunt it to the end of the world and destroy it if he has to.

But first—magic. His gaze falls on the keys gathered on the table and he lets the image burn away all other thought.

They have a quest to complete, after all.

#the magicians #queliot #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #my writing #fanfic #mine

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sadlittlenerdking · 5 years

Text

oh my god they were roommates

OPERATION KICK DEPRESSION AND NANOWRIMO IN THE ASS 6 OF 50 (oh god kill me its unending)

Word count: 1,104 (phew it’s long)

Summary: in which quentin’s friends suck (and oh my god they were roommates)

@cldfiredrgn prompted roommates

“Oh my god,” Margo says, smirking at Penny as Quentin lifts another box.

He doesn’t expect Penny to play along, but he does. “They were roommates!”

Quentin narrows his eyes at both of them, as he moves past them to set the box on the counter in the kitchen. Eliot closes the door of the refrigerator, and grins all cool and ease. “You could help,” Quentin mutters, heaving out a breath.

Eliot shakes his head, “Oh, no, dear. I don’t move. I observe. Manage. But I don’t move.”

“What about them?”

Eliot looks over his shoulder at Margo and Penny, where they’re sitting on the only piece of furniture thus far moved into their little slice of heaven, that if not for magic, they’d never in a million years be able to afford. “Well,” Eliot says, looking pensive, “Margo’s chewing gum, and she had her nails done yesterday. I can’t ask her to multitask, or ruin her manicure. And . . .” He furrows his brow, “Penny’s gone rogue. And I doubt he’ll listen to me.”

He turns his attention back on Quentin with an innocent grin, and Quentin huffs, glaring as he turns on his heel. “I’m not the only one living here!” He exclaims, as he walks out the front door, ready to grab another box.

“Nope, but you are the only one willing to lift the boxes!” Eliot calls out after him, a laugh flitting along the end of the sentence. The sound of his footsteps carry him across the apartment floor, until Quentin hears him flop down on the couch with Penny and Margo.

Quentin grabs the box off the stack in the hall roughly, too roughly, because it’s apparently empty, and falls backwards onto his ass. The box flops around as he flails, until he kicks it with his foot, in a sad, pathetic, grown mans hissy fit. He sits on the ground for a moment, glaring at the crushed box. He kicks it again, before forcing himself, groaning as his tail bone aches. He’ll have to cast a healing spell on himself later to make sure he doesn’t wake up in the morning wishing for death.

Margo peeks her head out from the apartment, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Hey, favorite man child. We’re all in here working our asses off, while you’re just sitting here on your ass?” She raises her eyebrows in challenge as his mouth drops open, and diappears behind the doorframe, as Quentin jumps up to his feet.

He’s not going to hurt her. He couldn’t if he wanted to.

He’s just going to murder her.

He cruises in through their front door, tripping over the rug that absolutely wasn’t there before. He expects to fall face first into the ground, but Eliot’s there to catch him, smug grin on his lips.

“Falling for me all over again?” He asks, and Quentin’s going to punch him.

But then, he sees the photos on the wall behind him -- of them, and all their friends. And he twists his neck around to look at the rest of the apartment. It’s all here. All set up, like they’ve been living here for months, not like they’re just moving in.

He blinks.

“Cat got your tongue?” Margo asks, crossing her arms over her chest, like she’s got the worlds secrets in her hands.

“What--”

Penny looks smug.

Yeah, Quentin’s going to murder them all.

He loves them, but they’re all going to fucking die.

“He looks like one of those cartoon characters about to explode.”

“Probably because we made him carry everything up here.”

Margo nods, tilting her head to the side, “You might just be right.” She clicks her tongue, “Come on, Q. Let’s eat, then you and Eliot can go on with pretending to be roommmates that aren’t in love with each other--”

“I thought we agreed not to bring that up?” Penny asks, though it’s all bluster, and Quentin’s going to jail, because it’s a crime of passion and he can’t even think of how to dispose of the evidence. They’re all going to die and he’s going to prison.

“Mmm,” Margo hums, pointing a finger at him, “Damn, you’re right. Sorry, Q. You and Eliot are definitely not secretly in love with each other, and aren’t going to cuddle up on this couch the second we leave and watch crappy romacne movies!”

“We’re not!”

Penny nods, “He’s right. It’s going to br crappy SYFY channel movies.”

Margo uncrosses her arms to point at him, “Shit, you’re right.”

“Okay,” Eliot finally interrupts, as he unravels his arms from around Quentin--which, oops, Quentin should have realized Eliot’s been holding him all this time, “Enough bullying Q. That’s my job.”

Margo scoffs. “You’re going to live with him alone. You can bully him all the time. We need to get the last of our bullying in while we can, El.”

Eliot rolls his eyes, and grabs Quentin’s hand to pull him into the room. The door shuts behind him, and Quentin doesn’t have to check to know the empty boxes in the hallway are already gone. He guides him to the couch, and Penny and Margo plop down on either side of them as Eliot smirks down. He’s still holding Quentin’s hand. His thumb grazes against the back of it, before he lets go. “You act as if you guys aren’t going to be here every day with Julia and Alice and Kady and the rest of the scooby gang.”

Penny frowns. “You think i’m going to willingly come back here?”

“If Kady does,” Margo mutters.

Penny glares at her, but doesn’t dispute it.

“All right,” Eliot says, pointing at each of them, “You two need to go home. Q’s planning your murders, I can see it in his eyes. Give him a couple hours to reboot and we can all go back to taunting him.”

Margo rolls her eyes but pushes up from the couch, but not before pressing a kiss to Quentin’s cheek. Penny stands up and holds his hands out for her. She takes it, and just before they disappear, she calls out, “Use protection, kids!”

Quentin’s grasping at thin air when he reaches out to strangle her.

Eliot laughs, all lilting and joy, and flops onto the couch next to him. “Aw,” He says, “Q don’t be so sour.”

Quentin huffs, and Eliot’s grin just widens, as he pulls Quentin into him.

It’s still really nice when Eliot runs his fingers through Quentin’s hair, and pulls him into a kiss.

It’s just your normal, totally average, not secretly in love with your roommate kind of thing.

#the magicians #queliot #just your typical roomates nothing to see here #6 f 50 #oh god its never gonna end #riz writes #margo hanson #penny adiyodi #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Wedding Job

leverage 1.07

Nate: No. No, it's-it's not right. But, you know, uh, we're not detectives. And if you want to prove your husband's innocence, there are plenty of agencies I could recommend.

eliot and hardison share tired, annoyed looks and I felt that in my soul

- - - - -

Teresa: I understand. Thank you. Where did my daughter go?

Hardison:I think she was with Parker.

(Parker is teaching the little girl how to pick locks)

Parker: Go!

(they both begin to work on the locks, after a few seconds, the girl gets hers open)

Parker: 6 seconds! Give it up! Good job.

parker can be good with kids and it’s adorable

- - - - -

Hardison: Just take the mob out of it.

Nate: What? Take the mob out of it?

Hardison: Hear me out. Isn't this just a breach of contract?

Eliot: These guys had a deal, right? And your boy, Ray, he lived up to his end, but Moscone didn't. And for that, there's not a court of law in this world this lady can go to.

Parker: Which is exactly the kind of case we take

the ot3 immediately jumping in to support sophie’s idea

- - - - -

Hardison: We can't. That thing's a fortress, man. I clocked four armed guards, a Tikva security system. That thing's Israeli-Made. It's used to protect their military bases. It's unhackable. Oh, and then there's the FBI parked around the corner.

Parker: FBI? Where? (looking through camera lens)

Hardison: You see that crappy van that says "plumber"?

Sophie: Did you say "plumber"? That's their cover? Oh, that is so cute. It's like it's 1978 all over again

- - - - -

Parker: I saw some rubber gloves. What do you do with those?

McSweeten: Oh, actually, we've just been kind of blowing them up and playing volleyball. But, uh, yeah, if we need to do any kind of investigation…

big boredom during quarantine mood

- - - - -

eliot being proud of the one (1) thing he did on the computer

- - - - -

parker winked at mcsweeten that poor boy, I’d be smitten too

fic writers get on this, parker smells like jasmine

- - - - -

Hardison: All you have to do is rip them on my flash drive and run.

[FBI Offices]

(Eliot closes the door)

Eliot: I don't have to type anything, right?

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: No, just plug it in. It does the rest.

Eliot: All right, 'cause you know I just learned the Photoshop thing you told me.

Hardison: I-I know. Baby steps.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: So I just plug it in.

(Eliot forces open a set of cabinet doors and they open, revealing stacks of cassette tapes. He looks at the flash drive in his hand)

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Now, audio files, they can take a little while to run, but, uh, the servers are pretty loud, so that should give you some cover.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: It's tapes.

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Wha-hold, wait. Did y-you just say "tapes"?

Eliot: I just said "tapes"!

Hardison: Cassette tapes?

[FBI Offices]

(Eliot picks up a cassette case and taps it with the flash drive)

Eliot: Your little thing, it's not gonna work.

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: But at least you ain't got to type nothing.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: Hardison, how am I supposed to get out of the FBI offices with a boxful of surveillance tapes, huh?

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Punch somebody.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: Oh, I’m gonna punch somebody

- - - - -

Nate: Can you break the codes?

Hardison: The codes? The codes to the Cayman Bank and Trust, where the Cali cartel and the African dictators keep all their dirty money? The ones that Moscone changes anytime he damn well pleases? Like, it's-c-come on. Dude, are you kidding me?

Nate: You know, you're-you're very negative lately.

Eliot: Yeah.

Nate: And the sass, it doesn't-doesn't help.

bruh lay off hardison

- - - - -

[audio of mob family fighting playing off of hardison’s computer]

Sophie: It's a bit like an opera, isn't it?

Eliot: You mean 'cause I want to run away

- - - - -

Nate: Sophie. Where are we at?

Sophie: Huh? I don't know, Nate. I think you need to ask yourself that question. You called me, remember? And now we're working together every day. I don't know what you want. And to ask me that dressed like a vicar? You're a very strange man.

Nate: No, no, no. I meant where are we at with finding the money?

Sophie: Oh.

chaotic sophienate

- - - - -

Nate: How are we doing? How's the search?

Eliot (chopping vegetables): I haven't started yet.

Nate: Okay, you know, I haven't gotten one answer I was looking for today. What is it that you're doing? What's going on?

Eliot: I'm cutting onion, deveining shrimp, uh, pan-searing some scallops. I've got 200 people I got to feed, all right? Back off.

Nate: Okay, okay. Hmm.

Eliot: What, you think the only thing I know how to do is bust heads?

Nate: No, well, yeah.

Eliot (demonstrating): Look, hold a knife like this, cuts through an onion. Hold a knife like this, cuts through, like, eight yakuza in 4 seconds. Screams, carnage. People are like knives. Everything is in context.

Heather (enters): Okay, hors d'oeuvres.

Eliot: Yes, ma'am. Stuffed mushrooms, pine nuts, kiss of basil, some sun-dried tomatoes, and the finishing touch, lemon juice. (gives her bite)

Heather (spits it out): Does this look like a food court? Does it? I want high-End food - High-End! What are you— (walks out)

(Eliot starts to go after her with the knife, Nate stops him)

Eliot: I know.

NEVER GET BETWEEN ELIOT AND HIS FOOD

also, eliot only becoming murderous when someone insults his food? iconic

- - - - -

Sophie (to bridesmaid): You look lovely.

Cindy: You don't think it makes me look fat?

Parker: Oh, definitely. I mean, why do you think I had to let out the waist? To make you look less skinny?

Sophie: She... she didn't mean that.

Heather: Oh, suck it up, Cindy. You'll be fine.

if someone did this to me I would c r y and that’s the truth lmfao

- - - - -

the ot3 eating pizza and laughing as nate verbally fucks himself over with sophie lmao

- - - - -

Hardison: Yo. No way in hell I could ever imagine getting married. I mean, it's just - It's just a piece of paper.

(Eliot, eating an apple, looks at Hardison)

Hardison: I take it you've never been married.

Eliot: No.

Hardison: Ever come close?

Eliot: No.

Hardison: What was her name?

Eliot: It was a girl I grew up with. But anyway, she married somebody else, so...

Hardison: Hot-hot damn, what did you do?

Eliot: What did I do? I liberated Croatia. (leaves)

Hardison: Oh, see, now, me, I would have just got fat and started up a comic-Book shop. That's you and me right there.

relationship foreshadowing in s1 we love to see it

- - - - -

Hardison: Now, I know that you're in charge of the bridesmaids' dresses, but why are you wearing one?

Parker: A bridesmaid's dress is like an all-access pass at a wedding. Plus, I kind of said something, and the maid of honor cried. And Sophie said I should make it up to her.

Hardison: By looking much, much better in the same dress? Yeah, you let me know how that goes.

Parker: Hmm, you really think I look good?

Hardison (pinning flowers on her dress): And now you're perfect

they’re BABIES your honor

- - - - -

(of course the trashy mom wears a sparkly white dress to her daughter’s wedding)

- - - - -

(Eliot walks up to the rest of the team)

Eliot: What is it? I got bacon on.

Parker: The Butcher is here.

Eliot: Does he have the baby lamb chops?

Hardison: No. The butcher of Kiev.

Nate: Think he'll recognize you?

[Flashback]

(flames surrounding them, the Butcher has Eliot by the neck and is trying to cut him with a meat cleaver. Eliot is barely holding him off)

Butcher: I kill you!

[Exterior House]

Eliot: Yeah, I think he'd remember me

I live for wacky eliot flashbacks

- - - - -

Nate: You're staying? Sophie, Sophie, it's the Butcher of Kiev.

Hardison: Have you ever been to Kiev? The cake-maker of Kiev would whup all our ass. This is the butcher.

Sophie: Uh-Huh.

this isn’t that notable, but it’s funny

- - - - -

parker smushed up against the glass door ,,, just imagine if anyone saw that lmao

- - - - -

eliot using a frying pan to fight the butcher of kiev,,, iconique

- - - - -

we need to start making a list of things that are Specifically Not Weapons™ that eliot uses as weapons:

for this episode, a frying pan, a whisk, an appetizer platter, the platter itself

- - - - -

Hardison (eating appetizer): This is pretty good, man.

Eliot: Thanks, man. I squeeze, like, fresh lemon juice on it.

Hardison: Cool. Cool.

(they follow Nate out of the kitchen)

eliot is so genuinely happy when someone finally appreciates his food, you can see it in his face ,,, he starts to love hardison just a little bit for that

- - - - -

Nate: Did you clear out Moscone’s accounts?

Hardison: I left him five dollars for socks

we love the team being petty

- - - - -

the girl immediately jumped into parker’s lap at the restaurant I’m soft

- - - - -

soft chef eliot serving his -friends- family is everything

- - - - -

I understand that this was technically supposed to be the third episode, so this would have been their first meal as a family and I stan them so hard for it

#eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #leverage ot3 #leverage #leverage meta #nate ford #sophie deveraux #the wedding job #leverage 1.07 #leverage 1x07 #meta #leverage season 1 #season 1 #notable moments

154 notes · View notes

leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Three Strikes Job

leverage 2.14

tara finishing nate’s drink so she wouldn’t have to deal with his bullshit and get him upstairs asap? iconic

- - - - -

Parker: So, is he gonna be okay?

Nate: Uh, they don't know.

Tara: Okay, this guy's a cop. You're thieves.

Nate: I'm not a thief! Bonnano is the cop that we tip off when we need to put the cuffs on a mark

we about to see nate turn a 180 in the next episode

- - - - -

Hardison: That's public corruption. There's practically no files on that thing.

Nate: That's it.

Hardison: No, no, these other two files -- they -- they involve violent criminals. This one -- this - it's government corruption.

Nate: No, no, no, no, no. No, no, no. That's it. That's it. Just...Check the shooting. Put up the scene. Okay, so, Bonnano - he goes to a remote location, alone, no backup. That means he knows his attackers and he's not expecting any trouble. Now, what did you just say? You said no files on it? So, Bonnano was keeping this investigation off the books.

Tara: Explains a secret meeting. Off hours, away from any witnesses.

Eliot: Cops are looking in the wrong place

- - - - -

Tara: So, what's our angle here? I haven't been with you guys very long, but taking someone down for attempted murder isn't something you normally do.

Nate: Listen, we come at him like any other mark. We flip over a rock in this guy's backyard, see what jumps out

- - - - -

[Bonnano’s House]

Eliot: Yeah, we're heading in now. You spend your weekends making these things, don't you?

Hardison: Yes, I do, and does anybody appreciate that?

[City Hall]

Parker: I do. I like the costumes. I wish I was there.

[Reelection Campain Event]

Parker, we need someone to sweep the mayor's office while he's here at the fundraiser.

[City Hall]

Parker: Fine. But I never get to do anything fun. (jumps off building)

- - - - -

Hardison: Hey. We are gonna search every inch of this carpet.

Cop: What am I looking for?

Hardison: Fibers, damn it. Fibers. And you -- you go search the bedroom and the bathroom for DNA. Get me a toothbrush, a hairbrush. I don't care if it's a nose trimmer. You bag it, tag it, and send it to the lab.

Cop: Um, th-- this carpet's made of fibers.

Hardison: Well, we're looking for other fibers -- suspicious fibers, fibers of crime. Damn! What'd they teach you at the academy, boy?! On my nerves.

eliot has to hide his smile when attention was turned to him ,,, he was lowkey very amused by hardison’s “fibers” shtick

- - - - -

Tara (walking away): You can handle this. Just feed them a story.

Parker: No, I can't do that. I mean, I can, but Sophie usually walks me through this.

Tara: Okay, take a deep breath. If you're uncomfortable, use it. Make them feel uncomfortable. Here's what you tell them.

Secretary: Who are you?

Parker: Peggy Marwood. Friend of Brad's.

Secretary: You can't just barge in here. Do you have an appointment?

Parker: Yeah, actually, I do. That's what this is all about. I sort of missed my appointment, if you know what I mean. (patting her stomach) Yeah. I, uh, sort of, uh, met Brad at the, uh...

Tara: National Mayors conference.

Parker: ...National Mayors conference...

Tara: In Vegas....

Parker: In Vegas... about six to eight weeks ago. Is that his family? (picks up picture from desk) Oh, they don't have any weird genetic...Things, do they?

Secretary: I'm sorry. The mayor didn't mention anything to me about this.

Tara: All right, now make her think you're gonna leave.

Parker: No problem. I'm just gonna go sit out there with everybody, and I might need a wastebasket, though, 'cause I'm feeling a little (gags) you know what I mean?

Secretary: No! You should wait in here... Okay....In that chair right there, away from everyone who might... see you.

Parker: Thanks. (to Tara) I owe you one.

Tara: Now, see? Trusting me is not so bad (parker smiles and gets up)

that’s very smart ??? iconic

- - - - -

Tara: I don't know. Culpepper doesn't strike me as the type to order a hit, especially on something like a graft case. What's the big deal, you know? You get caught, you go on TV with your wife, you cry, you get re-elected.

Parker: Yeah, it's the American way.

Tara: Exactly.

Hardison: Nah, this guy’s been caught in the middle of a dozen corruption cases. Each time, he's walked away, and somebody else took the fall. This guy does not get caught.

call! america! OUT!!!

- - - - -

Nate: Classic con -- hook, pinch, and flip.

Tara: Hook the mayor with the idea we're gonna build a ballpark here on all this land that he owns.

Nate: That's right, and then pinch him for a bribe to guarantee he gets the action. Hardison tells me he runs a lot of gray money through his re-election campaign, so he'll take the bribe out of his re-election funds.

Tara: Which is a federal offense. All right, so once we nail the mayor for the bribe...

Nate: The flip, right? Yeah, when the heat comes down, whoever shot Bonnano cuts a deal, the mayor goes down

so now we know the hook, pinch, flip

- - - - -

Hardison: You got drafted in the sixth round right out of high school. Had a cup of coffee in the royals organization. Then you bounced around the minors, you bounced around the world, and, as we can see here, you made a very popular commercial for an energy drink in Japan.

Eliot (on screen): Super happy power go!

Hardison: It took me 13 hours.

Eliot: There's only one problem. I don't like baseball.

Hardison: What? E-everybody likes baseball.

Eliot: I don't like baseball, man. All right? I don't like any sport you can't score on defense. Football, hockey, even basketball, but baseball?

Hardison: I'm not even talking to you. (walks away)

Eliot: It's boring. Hey, wait. Can you play the commercial?

Eliot (on screen): Super happy power go

chaotic boyfriends

also this is literally my favorite thing ever ,,, eliot enjoys the video so much

- - - - -

Eliot: Yeah, that's right, run away. Faster you start panicking, the faster I can get out of here. (swings at ball, nearly hits the pitcher)

Pitcher: Whoa!

Eliot: This time with a little more heat.

his bashful lil smile when he realizes he might actually like baseball? he’s baby, your honor

- - - - -

Parker (into phone): Los Beavers me han entristecido con su traicion, Esteban.

Hardison: You speak Spanish?

Parker: Si.

Hardison: Seriously?

another one of parker’s MANY hidden talents

- - - - -

Culpepper: Oh. Oh, be still my heart -- If my heart were somewhere in my pants. This is a thing of beauty.

Aid: He's building a ballpark?

Culpepper: A riverfront ballpark.

two words: y’all NASTY

- - - - -

eliot’s hair in this one is MAJESTIC

- - - - -

[Crowd chanting “Roy” in the background]

Nate: All right, good news, bad news.

Tara: Good news?

Nate: The mayor's hooked. We're in the pinch.

Tara: Bad news?

Nate: I think we lost Eliot until the playoffs.

+ y’all best believe I hc that parker and hardison managed to go to one of their practices/games before the con was over

- - - - -

Eliot: You left early, man. Huh? Bottom of the ninth.

Hardison: Excuse your rudeness. I'm explaining the con. It's very complicated.

Eliot: Really? The mayor gives us a check, and we deposit it in some company you connected back to him. Looks like he's embezzling from his campaign funds. Bottom of the ninth, man. I hit a walk-off single, man. Crowd goes nuts.

Hardison: But that's -- that's not all there is, okay? We got -- there's - there's the Bonnano thing.

Eliot: What? We give Bonnano’s notes to the newspaper, man? They named a sandwich after me at T.J. Philbin's.

Parker: Ohh. Ooh.

Eliot: Huh?

Hardison: I'll give it to you, man. The sandwich thing is pretty cool. Is this a hoagie?

Eliot: No, man, it's a Reuben.

THEY DID THEIR HANDSHAKE!!! we love to see the ot3 in action

+ parker’s wearing a flannel again

- - - - -

Guard: Hey, aren't you Roy Chappell? Yeah, you hit the game-winner yesterday for the beavers. I was there with my kid.

Eliot: I did.

Guard: What are you doing here?

Eliot: It's Triple-A ball, so I got to have a day job, you know? Excuse me. Sorry. (closes door)

Guard (through window): Oh, hey, Roy? You mind? (hands him paper and pen) It's for my kid.

Culpepper: No, I don't mind, man.

Guard: All right. Thanks, Roy.

Hardison: Who are you right now?

Eliot: Hey, man, what do you want me to do?

Hardison: Huh? Seriously?

Eliot: Like a role model.

Hardison: Seriously?

Eliot: What? It's not my fault

HES SO HAPPY

also hardison nobody missed your little smile and thumbs up in the background when the guy approached eliot,,, we see your secret pride for him

this was a great happy eliot + hardison interaction

- - - - -

(nearby agent’s phone rings, Nevin’s answers)

Nevins: Who is it? Who's this?

Hardison: You come in, and we'll kill all the hostages.

Nevins: What hostages?

Hardison: Oh, you thought the mayor was the only one? No, look, we got a whole Sunday school of people up in here. We got old folks, we got nuns, and we got explosives. You come in, you make headlines. (hangs up)

Nevins: We got any eyes in there?

Agent: No.

Nevins: Any cameras?

Agent: Nothing.

Nevins (into radio): All right, we hold! We hold! They're not going anywhere. Call for backup. I want bomb squads, full assault team, snipers. They want to play rough... We play rough

- - - - -

Eliot: Look, he needs a distraction.

Parker: We did just find a box of ammo and explosives. Boom. I'm just saying.

Eliot: The problem is in the delivery.

Hardison: And a detonator.

(Parker and Eliot turn to look at truck)

Hardison: No. Mnh-mnh. No. Mnh-mnh-mnh-mnh. Mnh-mnh. Mnh-mnh. Look, mnh-mnh. Not Lucille. Not Lucille! She all I got left. (Points to Parker, then Eliot) Don't you do it to me. Get that look out your eye.

(Parker and Eliot begin unloading the truck)

Hardison: You ain't got to be so happy about it, Eliot. You always had it in for my van. You always had it in for Lucille. You said she smells. She don't stink. It's just...An odor

parker and eliot were SO in sync when they both turned around at the same time

and also we love to see the ot3 being chaotic and framed together

- - - - -

parker kissed lucielle’s back door before they blew it up she has A HEART YOUR HONOR AND ITS RIGHT THERE FOR US TO SEE

- - - - -

(Hardison directs the van toward the warehouse with remote control)

Hardison: I've always been and forever shall be your friend.

awww baby

also apparently this was a star trek reference

- - - - -

Sterling: Oh, I wouldn't say that. (holds up badge) James Sterling... Interpol. Just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

what a DOUCHEBAG

#leverage 2.14 #leverage 2x14 #the three strikes job #leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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sadlittlenerdking · 6 years

Text

Patchwork Love

The Magicians

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Apparently there’s a spell that can conjure things from memory. Which is all Quentin needs to create a Grand Romantic Gesture to convince Eliot he’s serious about Them.

He’s not even sure it’ll work. But Kady mentioned it once, absentmindedly, from her place at the center of the couch in the physical kids cottage. And they’ve (once again) successfully stopped another disaster, and beat the library, and got magic back.

The only thing that’s not how it should be is entirely Quentin’s fault, and even if this doesn’t work, he has a back up plan. Because things are finally going to be perfect. They’re all going to live, no more monsters are coming to kill them or fuck shit up, and they’re going back to Fillory. For good. He just . . . needs to make something as abundantly clear as is possible, so nobody (read: Eliot) gets it into their thick skulls that what he’s asking for is less than what he wants.

He walks through the shops doors, flinching as he crashes through the curtain of stringed beads, and a loud bell chimes to announce his presence, loud and assuming in his ears.

“Ah! How can I help you?”

Quentin opens his eyes, then, tilting his shoulder up and swiping at the beads clinging to him, until they all fall and clash noisily behind him. “Uh—I,” He looks back at the beads, contemplating an escape, before turning back around. “I hear you, can. My fr—well, she’s not really a friend. I mean, kind of? We’re not close—“

“Sir?”

Quentin clears his throat. “Right. Sorry. I—I hear you can create things pulled from memory?”

The shopkeeper makes a face, before leaning forward conspiratorially, “And who did you say sent you here?”

“Kady? Orloff-Diaz?” He expects he’ll have to describe her, but the shopkeepers eyes brighten with recognition.

“Ah, yes. my favorite little hedge witch. Tell me, how is she? She’s not stopped by in a while. Though, I expect that has to do with the chaos surrounding magic.”

“I—she. It’s a long story? But she’s okay? Now?”

“Brilliant!” He motions over his shoulder, “Follow me, then. I’ll just have to ask a few questions and then we can—“

“There is, uh. One. Thing? I should mention.”

“What’s that?”

“The memory is… from a separate timeline? That didn’t happen, but also kind of did.”

“But it’s still clear?”

“As if I’d lived it in this lifetime, yeah.”

The shopkeeper grins, “Brilliant. That’s all we need. A clear image and moment from which to pull from.” He steps out from behind the counter, and holds a hand out for Quentin. “Come on my little lamb. To the slaughter we go!”

“What?”

“You’ll see. Memory stripping isn’t too much fun. Some women have likened it to child birth.”

“Oh.”

“Doubts?”

Quentin swallows thickly, because no. There aren’t any doubts. Not anymore. Not after six months as Brian, and four more with Eliot as a nameless creature inhabiting his body. Not after quests and deaths and mayhem. No more fucking doubts so long as …. his anxiety reddened mind allows him to go without. Which probably has a time limit of about five more minutes.

“No, but—"

“Best get started, understood. Come along.”

And then they disappear through the back and there’s really no going back from here, is there?

During the quest, he didn’t tell anyone, but he’d created a journal. A timestamp of every quest related moment that mattered, or had an affect.

The day they stepped through the clock, but also didn’t, is preceded and followed up by three empty pages. So Quentin can always find it easily enough, without bookmarking it with hearts and enchantments that basically screams at any onlookers (read: his nosy-ass friends) to HEY COME LOOK AT WHAT QUENTIN’S GOT UNDER HIS BED.

So, he knows what today is. Has known for weeks. Months, even. But the last couple weeks are all that matters. Because there’s a disconnect from their feelings and their actions, now. Whereas before, everything came easy. Or, as easy as things involving Eliot Waugh can possibly grow to become. But now, there’s an invisible wall built up. From Quentin being Brian and crying over Eliot’s (second) death upon getting his memories back, without knowing that Eliot had been very much alive, but hiding beneath the creature, watching everything around them unfold without any control. To that moment, just a few weeks ago.

Of the fire beneath Eliot’s eyes slowly fading to confusion, to Quentin being pulled into a world crushing hug, and all of their friends piling on top of them.

To Eliot looking at him like he wants to say something, but being just as frightened as Quentin for once in his life.

Because so much has happened.

But beneath all their trauma and pain and loss, they’ve still got feelings piling up high and wide for the entire world to see if they just take one look at either of them.

But Eliot sees rejection and regret, when he looks at Quentin. He knows it. Because every time Quentin’s taken the opportunity to mention his feelings, in the past or in recent weeks, Eliot politely reminds him that he’s passed the point of experimenting and having stress related romps in the darkest nights of war.

Eliot, as closed off as he can be sometimes, is looking for a fairytale. Or, as close to one as he can graze his fingertips up against.

And, in all honesty, after all that they’ve been through, Quentin’s on the same page.

He’s not in love with Alice, or bored, or desperate for a time killer.

He doesn’t want Eliot because it’s convenient. Because it’s not. It’s messy and consuming, and they keep finding ways to hurt each other. They keep fucking everything up. It’s mostly Quentin, but Eliot has his moments, too.

But it’s time for Quentin to take a stand. Because it’s always Eliot, watching and waiting and willing when the time comes. It’s always Eliot willing to take the plunge. To get hurt. But he’s been hurt enough. He’s suffered enough.

So, Quentin didn’t say anything. Until he remembers an offhanded comment Kady said once. About a stuffed bear she loved as a toddler that was stolen. About her mom, tapping her temple and saying, “ My Kady girl, you never have to worry about losing the things you love, so long as you have them up here .” Of the secret magic shop that spells items from memory into existence.

He looks down at the bag as he makes his way up the stairs of the cottage, still surprised the shopkeeper had managed to find it with all his digging. His head and body are still so, so sore. But today is the day preceded and followed by blank pages.

Today is the only day to Make A Point.

There are no girls with baskets of peaches and plums to distract him. Only a girl he once loved, who’s grown into herself, and has moved on. A house full of friends. No distractions. Nothing.

He can’t think of a place he’d rather be.

Which is why, when he reaches the top of the stairs, and stops in front of Eliot’s door, that he shakes his head, turns away, and heads for his own bedroom. He sets the bag on his bed, gently, and thinks, as loud as he can for Penny to appear.

He should know by now to specify, but it’s too late because new and old Penny are standing in his room, staring at him with matching looks of disappointment. “What?”

It’s eerie, how their voices echo when they speak at the same time.

He smiles guiltily up at them. “I was just wondering… if you could help me set something up.”

“ What ?” New Penny asks, just as Old Penny scoffs.

Quentin’s grin turns up three degrees. “I’m going to tell Eliot I love him.”

“Ten years later…”

New Penny shoots Old Penny a glare, and turns his attention back on Quentin. “You know I can’t do that for you, right?”

“No, no, no, yeah. i know. I just. Was hoping, you could convince him to step through the clock and go to Fillory? Maybe, make it seem like a group outing kind of thing?”

“You could just walk into his room and say ‘hey love you, let’s fuck,’” Old Penny says, raising his eyebrows, “It literally doesn’t need to be this difficult.”

New Penny scoffs this time. “Man,” He says, “Did you lose your sense of romance in the underworld or something?” He rolls his eyes and grabs Old Penny by the elbow before shooting Quentin a look. “We’ll get it handled.”

“No we w—“

“No more pining .”

Old Penny stops struggling, and levels Quentin with a look Quentin can’t quite comprehend. “He’ll be there in an hour.”

He just opts to take that as a win and grins.

Not even forty five minutes later, Quentin hears the tale tell sign of someone walking through the woods, as leaves and twigs break beneath their feet. He straights out the blanket beneath him, and adjust the plates of food, swallowing anxiously, as the footsteps get closer.

“Hello? Look—not that I’m not into the cabin in the woods vibe, here, guys, I just—“ Eliot stops mid-sentence as he breaks through the trees and comes face to face with Quentin and the picnic. “Oh.” He doesn’t move. Even his hand stays planted on the side of the tree, where Quentin’s pretty sure the bark is digging into the palms of his hands painfully.

“I thought we could--“

“Where did you get that?”

Eliot still hasn’t moved. But his eyes are drawn to the ground in front of Quentin. And his voice is higher, slightly panicked or shocked, Quentin’s not sure.

But, he will admit that he’s starting to feel a bit panicked as his own eyes slide down to the blanket he’s sitting on. He clears his throat, and shrugs, before looking back up at Eliot. “I was hoping we—we could. Uh. Eat, and you’d notice it somewhere around the strawberries? And then I could give this—this speech. It’s not really a speech. I mean. It is but—“

“Q?”

“Right, sorry. I—“

“How—“

“I had a magician pull it from my memory and give it a form?”

Eliot’s eyes snap back up to Quentin’s, then. “What? Why?”

“Because I—uh. Wanted—Shit.” He shuffles up to his knees, panicking truly now, as the plates and drinks shake dangerously around him, until he can push onto his feet and stand up. He looks down at the slight state of chaos overtop the blanket. “See—you. You ruined it, you know?” He says, looking back up. “You were supposed to—to, just. Walk through and be like, ‘oh, what’s this?’ and I’d grab one of the cups,” He pauses, pointing shakily at the cup that had been by his foot just moments ago, “And I’d say, ‘Happy Anniversary, Eliot’ and you’d think on it, all confused like, what, but then you’d see the blanket. And then, you’d look up at me, then the cup, then the blanket—“

“And then I’d kiss you?”

Can a person's heart stop without it killing them? Can Quentin’s heart stop in his chest? Is that a thing that can happen?

Because if not, help, someone call an ambulance or something because he’s almost definitely dying.

“Q?”

He wills himself to look back up at Eliot, with the tiniest of nods. “Yeah, actually.”

“Like last time.”

“Yeah.”

“Last time, we—“

“We could have done better,” Quentin interrupts, taking a needy step closer. Just because they haven’t been as close lately as they were before, doesn’t mean he doesn’t long for the proof of Eliot’s existence, in either touches, or just the proof of life given by the warmth he emanates. “We—we can. We still have a chance, to. To do this right. We’re not in any danger—“

“Which is the only time you’re—“

“That’s not true. I just—I fucked up. A lot. But I’m not only interested when we’re in peril or something. I—I. I always want you around. And, I—I don’t know. Fuck,” He hisses, reaches up to run a hand through his hair in frustration, “I forgot my speech. You—you weren’t supposed to see it and then this gets all confrontational. It—it was going to be romantic and. And I was going to tell you I love you, in that really weird, all consuming, sometimes fucks up my spells because I’m too happy for them to work, kind of way. But I can’t even—“

“Q.”

“—do that right because I’m such a fucking disaster. And I just wanted to prove—“

“Q.”

“—to you that I’m in this for the long run, and that I’m not—“

“Q, you’re panicking.”

“—just looking for a quick, time killing problem solving fuck, or anything like that. I mean, obviously—“

“Quentin—“

“—I want to sleep with you again, because hello, but I—“

Eliot comes striding forward in four long steps until he grabs Quentin by his shoulders. “Q, you’re spiraling. Stop.”

“But I—“

“Stop.” He looks him in the eye, mimes taking a deep breath, which makes Quentin realize that he’d somehow said everything without taking any breaths in, so he follows the mime, until he’s not panting for air. Until they’re standing beneath the Fillorian trees, staring at each other. He’s not sure if it’s the exercise, or just because of how intoned they are with each other, but their chests are rising and falling at the same rate. Touching on the inhale, and separating on the exhale. Again and again.

Quentin keeps getting little glimpses of the feel of Eliot’s heartbeat.

“Are you good now?”

“Am I ever?”

“Are you going to faint?”

“No.”

“Good.” He half expects Eliot to pull away, but the concern in his eyes slowly fades, as the crinkles at the corners of his eyes appear until he’s staring down at Quentin like he knows something Quentin doesn’t—which is always dangerous.

“What?”

“You told me you love me.”

“What?” He furrows his brow, before sighing, because yeah, he had just blurted it out. “Shit—I—“

“Don’t apologize, Q.” He leans down, pressing his forehead to Quentins. “You got the blanket. From the night we kissed outside the house by the mosaic.” Quentin nods, his eyes fluttering shut. “You didn’t buy something similar, or go to a shop in Fillory and see if there were any. You went to a hedge witch parlor, and had it literally ripped out of your memory like it's some kind of mix tape CD from the early 2000’s.”

“A mixtape would have been a lot less painful.”

Eliot chuckles. “Physically, maybe. But mentally? The emotional harm? It wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Are—“

“For the record, I love you, too.”

Quentin opens his eyes then. “But you’ve been avoiding me. I thought—“

One of Eliot’s hands come up, his thumb grazing against Quentin’s cheekbone, while the palm of his hand wraps around his jawline. “I figured it’d be less traumatic.”

“What?”

“What the creature did to you…it was in my body. I figured the less you had to look at me, the easier it’d be.”

Quentin swallows thickly. “I mean,” He says, “I kind of never want to—to stop looking at you.”

“Oh?”

“No.”

Eliot grins down at him, and before Quentin even realizes what's happening, he finds himself pushed up against the same tree Eliot had held onto. And Quentin was right—the bark is sharp. But so are Eliot’s teeth, and they’re glinting in the sunlight as Eliot looks him over. “Then you don’t have to,” He says, leaning back in, until his nose presses against Quentin’s.

“Okay. That—that’s—“

“Do you want to keep talking, or do you want to make use of the blanket you so painfully collected?”

“I—I also—cooked…”

“I’m hungry,” Eliot nods, “But not for food.”

“That was—disgustingly cheesy.”

“Coming from you? The one who had his friends trick me into thinking there’s a big, creepy picnic in the woods. When instead it’s a poorly crafted love confession?”

“Ouch.”

Eliot chuckles, “I’m sorry,” He says, “But you really didn’t think it through, at all.”

“Do I ever?”

“….Fair enough.”

They stand quietly for a few moments, breathing each other in. Until Quentin, impatient and expectant, pulls back enough, just to say, “So… are you going to kiss me? Or?”

Eliot’s laughter is the last thing he hears before he feels his lips on his.

When they get back to the cottage, they wash the blanket, and fold it up, setting it alongside the back of the couch, so they can see it whenever they’re home, to remind them.

“I swear to god if that is the sex blanket on the couch that we all sit our happy asses on, I am actually going to murder you both. I don’t care if Eliot is my best friend! ”

It finds its new home on Quentin and Eliot’s shared bed.

#the magicians #queliot #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #riz writes

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