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Fandom: Leverage
Rating: R (for sexual implications, but I guess my tone is more adult than normal)
Characters/Pairings: Nate/Eliot, Nate/Sophie, Hardison/Parker, and well, everyone/everyone a little
Summary: Nate is dressed like a priest trying to rip off mob guys, but can't seem to not think about all the stuff he can get away with now that he's no longer a law-abiding citizen.
Notes: HI LEVERAGE. So, I've been watching to watch this show since it came out, because Nate is my type (older, regretting something, a goodie two shoes that actually does bad things, alcoholic) and he's the main character, and it's got a similar premise to The Pretender and Burn Notice which are also favorites, and there's a spunky cat burgler chick and I THINK EVERYONE NEEDS TO MAKE OUT. Also, my girl had a bad day and so did I, so we needed this.And it hits my costume kink a little. Seriously Nate, you had to dress up like a priest didn't you?
This is completely terribly self-indulgent and likely not very good but I don't care it was fun.
Nate blames the damn priest collar.
Now that he's one of the bad guys--but technically still a good guy, the intent is there, he has to remember that--it's all the little things he lets slide. Back in the day when he was in an actual seminary with the intent to do actual works for God, he wouldn't have touched liquor. But a mob boss hands him a drink and he says thank you and a part of him can't help but think he's getting away with something.
He's just playing dressup. And it feels kind of good and isn't all the karma going to balance out anyway?
But even if he's just playing dressup he wants to test it. Nate's fearless now, at least that's certainly how he feels after a few glasses of scotch and a successful heist. A couple of months ago he would have been horrified that he could fall so easily in with crooks and be comfortable with it. But moral superiority is way too stiff, and he will walk into the damn kitchen even if he knows Eliot's in there.
Because without the collar, it'd be awkward.
Eliot just glances over in the middle of... chopping up onions? Nate still doesn't know any of them--even Sophie, hell, especially Sophie--so he kind of just stares. This is a guy that kicks the crap out of people. Now he's channeling Emeril?
"What."
"I'm sorry just..."
"You think all I do is punch people?"
"No... yeah."
Well, that and screw around on pool tables. Nate's always been a little heteroflexible, but he's never gone from telling someone they weren't friends to on his back, so fast. Or well, ever. So he'd been expecting either some kind of fallout or something for the last couple of jobs now.
Instead he's talking to probably the world's deadliest chef.
"I have hobbies you know."
"Model planes?"
"I'm holding a knife."
Hardison starts jabbering in the earpiece then, and Nate sighs. Well, maybe later.
"Keep up the good work there, Emeril."
Eliot frowns over the stove, but then smirks and gives a half-hearted 'bam!' as he adds... something or other to the edible whatchamacallit. Nate's cooking knowledge is summed up by his ability to pour bourbon and put things into a microwave.
He rounds the corner, and Hardison's fluster-geeking his way out of a room.
"Hey, you rang?"
"Oh, sorry man, gotta go."
"Go?"
"Doing the DJ thing you know, and the wiring and stuff and just it's covered, dude."
He hurries off then, and Nate peeks into the room that had whatever it was that made Hardison spazz out so bad. He has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at Parker, in one of the awful pretty princess bridesmaid's dresses. Of course, he almost could laugh--no one can ever guess what she'll say or how she'll react to something. Well, except for a few obvious things, like money and heights.
"What are you looking at?" She crosses her arms and scowls.
"You look so much like.... a cupcake."
Unpredictably, she smiles, throws her arms up and kisses him.
"Finally! AN HONEST MAN."
She flies off then, much like she always does, and all he can do is stand and wonder what bullshit Hardison said to her. Of course, Parker's probably the only woman he's met that telling the truth about her appearance will result in celebration and not a right hook to the jaw.
He shrugs, and continues on the rounds. The wise guys are all piling in, and the mother of the bride's shrill voice breaks above the din of their various conversations. Nate hears 'priest' in the middle of all that decides it's best if he get upstairs and out of her way. He can't keep checking in with everyone doing their jobs if the harpy is in his face.
"NEVER TRUST A MAN."
He winces. Nate would know Sophie's voice anywhere, even with a different accent. He has no regrets about asking her to join the team--he knows she's the best actress he's ever seen. It's knowing that which keeps her at arm's length. Well, that and the temper. He doesn't care much for being shot at, even if it was his fault.
He can see her now, with the bride, obviously less of a comfort than a reminder of whatever it is the poor girl is sobbing about. He has to wonder if she's playing jilted lover or if he really hit a nerve earlier. But Sophie never exactly gives him the explanation, and just takes off.
Nate decides it's about time he had another drink.
---
He's still in the afterglow of the job, debating whether to take the collar off, relinquish the powers that it gave him. People always look differently at priests, in various tones of respect, fear, and in the case of certain muscle, deliciously inappropriate. Maybe a part of him is starting to get off on the ability to be the good guy and the bad one at the same time.
From the conference room he's watching Sophie walk away--a sight that he both enjoys and loathes--and finishing off the only bottle that Eliot wasn't able to hide from him. From here he could see everything if he wanted to, he could just turn on the monitor. So Nate hits the button that pulls up the surveillance.
Just in time to see Parker push Hardison against the refridgerator in the kitchenette.
He shifts in his seat and loosens the collar. Is it voyeuristic if it's accidental? But that's the old goody two shoes talking. He's the organizer, not the boss, there isn't any ethics really being breached. And it isn't like everyone in the group isn't young and attractive and they really shouldn't be starting stuff where people can see anyway...
"I figured you were a dirty old perv."
He'd forgotten that Eliot probably hadn't left, despite having left the conference room. He knows that he shouldn't have ruled out that possibility, but in the afterglow of well done capers and mid-level scotch certain details get fuzzy.
"Who isn't?" A few months ago he would have denied it and been offended at the suggestion he was just about to watch a couple other people have sex and possibly jerk off to it, but who the hell is watching anymore? Where's the moral checkpoints? He'd been completely screwed over as the white knight, and not in the pleasant way.
Eliot shakes his head. "Parker wanted me to help, you know."
Nate's not quite sure what turns him on more at that point; what Eliot just told him, or how Parker's ridiculous cat burgler flexibility is making for some very interesting images on the conference room screen. Limber. He takes a sip of his drink to mask this.
"I didn't realize that Parker was into... people."
Of course, it's all small talk anyway. And he's right about the power of the collar and maybe someday he'll ask Eliot why it has that particular effect on him. And why they're always screwing on tables of one form or another. And if Sophie wants to join in.
"Maybe next time you will be able to help Parker out. We're a team after all."
Yes, completely the collar's fault that the dark side is just so sexy.
Rating: R (for sexual implications, but I guess my tone is more adult than normal)
Characters/Pairings: Nate/Eliot, Nate/Sophie, Hardison/Parker, and well, everyone/everyone a little
Summary: Nate is dressed like a priest trying to rip off mob guys, but can't seem to not think about all the stuff he can get away with now that he's no longer a law-abiding citizen.
Notes: HI LEVERAGE. So, I've been watching to watch this show since it came out, because Nate is my type (older, regretting something, a goodie two shoes that actually does bad things, alcoholic) and he's the main character, and it's got a similar premise to The Pretender and Burn Notice which are also favorites, and there's a spunky cat burgler chick and I THINK EVERYONE NEEDS TO MAKE OUT. Also, my girl had a bad day and so did I, so we needed this.
This is completely terribly self-indulgent and likely not very good but I don't care it was fun.
Nate blames the damn priest collar.
Now that he's one of the bad guys--but technically still a good guy, the intent is there, he has to remember that--it's all the little things he lets slide. Back in the day when he was in an actual seminary with the intent to do actual works for God, he wouldn't have touched liquor. But a mob boss hands him a drink and he says thank you and a part of him can't help but think he's getting away with something.
He's just playing dressup. And it feels kind of good and isn't all the karma going to balance out anyway?
But even if he's just playing dressup he wants to test it. Nate's fearless now, at least that's certainly how he feels after a few glasses of scotch and a successful heist. A couple of months ago he would have been horrified that he could fall so easily in with crooks and be comfortable with it. But moral superiority is way too stiff, and he will walk into the damn kitchen even if he knows Eliot's in there.
Because without the collar, it'd be awkward.
Eliot just glances over in the middle of... chopping up onions? Nate still doesn't know any of them--even Sophie, hell, especially Sophie--so he kind of just stares. This is a guy that kicks the crap out of people. Now he's channeling Emeril?
"What."
"I'm sorry just..."
"You think all I do is punch people?"
"No... yeah."
Well, that and screw around on pool tables. Nate's always been a little heteroflexible, but he's never gone from telling someone they weren't friends to on his back, so fast. Or well, ever. So he'd been expecting either some kind of fallout or something for the last couple of jobs now.
Instead he's talking to probably the world's deadliest chef.
"I have hobbies you know."
"Model planes?"
"I'm holding a knife."
Hardison starts jabbering in the earpiece then, and Nate sighs. Well, maybe later.
"Keep up the good work there, Emeril."
Eliot frowns over the stove, but then smirks and gives a half-hearted 'bam!' as he adds... something or other to the edible whatchamacallit. Nate's cooking knowledge is summed up by his ability to pour bourbon and put things into a microwave.
He rounds the corner, and Hardison's fluster-geeking his way out of a room.
"Hey, you rang?"
"Oh, sorry man, gotta go."
"Go?"
"Doing the DJ thing you know, and the wiring and stuff and just it's covered, dude."
He hurries off then, and Nate peeks into the room that had whatever it was that made Hardison spazz out so bad. He has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at Parker, in one of the awful pretty princess bridesmaid's dresses. Of course, he almost could laugh--no one can ever guess what she'll say or how she'll react to something. Well, except for a few obvious things, like money and heights.
"What are you looking at?" She crosses her arms and scowls.
"You look so much like.... a cupcake."
Unpredictably, she smiles, throws her arms up and kisses him.
"Finally! AN HONEST MAN."
She flies off then, much like she always does, and all he can do is stand and wonder what bullshit Hardison said to her. Of course, Parker's probably the only woman he's met that telling the truth about her appearance will result in celebration and not a right hook to the jaw.
He shrugs, and continues on the rounds. The wise guys are all piling in, and the mother of the bride's shrill voice breaks above the din of their various conversations. Nate hears 'priest' in the middle of all that decides it's best if he get upstairs and out of her way. He can't keep checking in with everyone doing their jobs if the harpy is in his face.
"NEVER TRUST A MAN."
He winces. Nate would know Sophie's voice anywhere, even with a different accent. He has no regrets about asking her to join the team--he knows she's the best actress he's ever seen. It's knowing that which keeps her at arm's length. Well, that and the temper. He doesn't care much for being shot at, even if it was his fault.
He can see her now, with the bride, obviously less of a comfort than a reminder of whatever it is the poor girl is sobbing about. He has to wonder if she's playing jilted lover or if he really hit a nerve earlier. But Sophie never exactly gives him the explanation, and just takes off.
Nate decides it's about time he had another drink.
---
He's still in the afterglow of the job, debating whether to take the collar off, relinquish the powers that it gave him. People always look differently at priests, in various tones of respect, fear, and in the case of certain muscle, deliciously inappropriate. Maybe a part of him is starting to get off on the ability to be the good guy and the bad one at the same time.
From the conference room he's watching Sophie walk away--a sight that he both enjoys and loathes--and finishing off the only bottle that Eliot wasn't able to hide from him. From here he could see everything if he wanted to, he could just turn on the monitor. So Nate hits the button that pulls up the surveillance.
Just in time to see Parker push Hardison against the refridgerator in the kitchenette.
He shifts in his seat and loosens the collar. Is it voyeuristic if it's accidental? But that's the old goody two shoes talking. He's the organizer, not the boss, there isn't any ethics really being breached. And it isn't like everyone in the group isn't young and attractive and they really shouldn't be starting stuff where people can see anyway...
"I figured you were a dirty old perv."
He'd forgotten that Eliot probably hadn't left, despite having left the conference room. He knows that he shouldn't have ruled out that possibility, but in the afterglow of well done capers and mid-level scotch certain details get fuzzy.
"Who isn't?" A few months ago he would have denied it and been offended at the suggestion he was just about to watch a couple other people have sex and possibly jerk off to it, but who the hell is watching anymore? Where's the moral checkpoints? He'd been completely screwed over as the white knight, and not in the pleasant way.
Eliot shakes his head. "Parker wanted me to help, you know."
Nate's not quite sure what turns him on more at that point; what Eliot just told him, or how Parker's ridiculous cat burgler flexibility is making for some very interesting images on the conference room screen. Limber. He takes a sip of his drink to mask this.
"I didn't realize that Parker was into... people."
Of course, it's all small talk anyway. And he's right about the power of the collar and maybe someday he'll ask Eliot why it has that particular effect on him. And why they're always screwing on tables of one form or another. And if Sophie wants to join in.
"Maybe next time you will be able to help Parker out. We're a team after all."
Yes, completely the collar's fault that the dark side is just so sexy.
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