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vickyvicarious · 3 years

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Parker: "Teach me to like stuff."

Okay, so. I have some thoughts about The French Connection Job's Parker+Eliot subplot. And I think I wanna approach it separately, scene by scene from each of their perspectives, because we have a couple different things going on here. It's still a little more of a Parker meta than an Eliot meta, but I have enough to talk about on both sides, and they're connected enough not to be in separate metas, that I am going to do it this way.

Also going to put this under a cut because it gets long.

Parker

This whole subplot comes on the heels of the last episode, in which there was a lot of banter throughout about Hardison and Parker's dates, and him wanting to branch out into other things than just bungee jumping or whatever. We have seen hints of this throughout S5 so far, even though we're only a few episodes in at this point. They went on a world tour that was pretty much just jumping off of stuff, Hardison said something about them figuring things out. We saw a cute domestic scene of the aftermath of them watching a movie together, except Parker 'fell asleep again' and missed most of it, and Hardison eventually went off to work on his laptop. Parker tried to comfort him last episode about dust mites and ended up freaking him out instead. She talked about how she liked fire and Hardison complained she was missing the point of his offer for a candlelit picnic. They did end on a very romantic note with her still making the effort to make it happen but getting rained out, and him recognizing her effort and listening to him, and projecting the stars around the dark room then having the picnic inside. They are clearly very happy together and both making the effort to meet in the middle, but there are still some disconnects. Which makes sense this early on anyway, but it's not out of place for Parker to start getting worried about her limited interests here given the context of them contrasting Hardison's more widespread interests.

Starting right off the bat - there's a picture limit so I can't show these early moments, but throughout the first part of the episode we see Parker looking visibly upset/pensive. Hardison notices and asks her what's wrong, but is immediately distracted by his package arriving, and then the team gets into the briefing and he doesn't get to talk to her again. (Sidenote that this is pretty OOC for Hardison, and I have to assume he would at the very least come back to her later, but they were clearly trying to get Parker talking with someone else this episode and apparently couldn't come up with a better way to do it. His writing outside of the kitchen stuff was kinda off this whole episode anyway, what with the whole tip thing.) She was about to open up to him, however, which is important. There's also a scene shortly afterwards where she confides in Nate, again after he notices her being upset and asks what's bothering her. She claims everyone but her has 'a thing', and names a few of them. He asks her what she thinks when she sees Michelangelo's David, and when her answer is an immediate assessment of how it's guarded and what she'd have to do to steal it, he kind of hesitates and then goes right back to running the con. He basically gives up on helping her with this once it becomes clear that a quick sentence or two isn't gonna cut it.

So after those brief, unhelpful conversations, that's when she makes a move. She was responding to others before, but this time she comes up to Eliot, clearly nervous. And she asks him to help her feel something.

(I find it very interesting that she doesn't ask Sophie. Sophie is the person who she would usually go to for something like this, after all. But, aside from this being an Eliot-centric episode and just like them sidelining Hardison's possible assistance earlier the writers want Parker to talk with Eliot not Sophie, I think there are maybe a couple reasons why she might go to him here. First, just distance. Eliot is right downstairs, meanwhile at the moment Sophie is however far across town at her theater. Certainly not saying she wouldn't go to Sophie eventually, but maybe that's why not first. Second, she and Eliot have an understanding, one that's been explicitly acknowledged since the start of S4. They are similar in a way entirely unlike the rest of the crew. So while Sophie may understand emotions best, Eliot is the one most likely to know what Parker is talking about when she says she just isn't feeling anything. Which by the way I'm gonna get more into later on. Thirdly they're in love but that's not actually relevant here since all of the team love one another.)

Eliot

On Eliot's side, she approaches him when he's busy in the kitchen. This whole job is stirring up a lot of old feelings in him right from the start. Toby was someone who 'kept him from falling all the way down', and Eliot is deeply concerned for him. At the same time, the way they are running this con is allowing Eliot to take on the role of teacher. Even though his students aren't anything like the eager students Toby has just had taken away from him, Eliot wants so badly to take advantage of this opportunity to teach them - maybe even all the more because they're resistant. He's being given a very rare opportunity to indulge his belief that food is life and to share it on a larger scale. To use the knife to create, not just destroy. Leverage often walks a line between doing both (taking down the bad guys and helping people) but Eliot doesn't often just straight up get to just do the 'creating' part. (I mean, he loves the destruction too, he genuinely loves beating people up and taking down bad guys, but this is a rarer pleasure.) So he's pretty preoccupied with that at first, and initially dismisses Parker just like the other two guys did.

But when she just looks quietly disappointed at his response, he goes still and watches her. We cut away from them here so we don't see his actual response, but it's immediately clear that he's realizing this is actually something deeply important to Parker, and well worth his time.

On to the next part of this scene below.

[Eliot sets a dish down in front of Parker]

Parker: "...It's just food."

Eliot: "It's not just food! Alright, some people could look at it and just see food, but not me. I see art. When I'm in the kitchen I'm, I'm creating something outta nothing, you know what I mean? And sometimes I crush it, sometimes it's crap, but either way - it makes me feel something."

Parker: "Feel what?"

Eliot: "Just... feel."

Parker: [murmuring] "Feel... okay." [looks down at the food and hesitates]

Eliot: "You know, I didn't feel anything for a long time. Then Toby taught me how to cook, and after he did, I started to feel stuff again. That's why I share it through my food - this is my art. This is my art, Parker." [Parker nods, looking worried] "It's like lettin' a stranger in your head, just for a second. And you allow them to feel what you're feeling." [pause] "Look again." [he pushes the plate a little closer to her. Parker takes a deep breath and slowly sets her elbows down on the counter as she stares down at the plate. Eliot watches her closely.]

Parker

At this point I want to talk a little about what Parker means when she says "feel something" and talks about "having a thing." Because we've seen her have interests outside of straightforward thievery before. Sure, most of her hobbies revolves around stealing - casing local banks for fun, for example. But she clearly has a deep love for Christmas and for chocolate. So why doesn't she count those kinds of things as 'feeling something'?

I think it comes down to what Eliot's talking about here. It's a sense of art. Not even necessarily making it yourself, although that certainly applies. Parker likes sweet things like chocolate and donuts, but although she really really likes them they don't make her feel any truly deep emotion. It's more tactile than anything else, just a pleasant flavor. Her love of Christmas isn't the same either in her eyes because it's not uniquely hers. It's something she loves to celebrate but she can't do so all year round, and plenty of other people like Christmas too. This one comes a lot closer, because it definitely seems to be tied up more in community and family for her than something like enjoying chocolate and piñatas, but it still doesn't belong to her in the same way that cooking does to Eliot or theater does to Sophie. And while theoretically her love of base jumping and so on could maybe count, it is still so tied up in her thieving that it doesn't feel separate. She's really good at drawing but only thinks of it as a useful skill, not a creative outlet - this is similar to that.

She has been branching out into a lot of new experiences and emotions lately, and while she's struck out deep into uncharted waters with her relationship with Hardison, once there she's only seeing more and more things that she just... doesn't get. She loves spending time with him, and enjoys what they do together, but she doesn't understand all of those things. Not on a deeper level. She wants to feel that sense of connection to something, wants to feel deeply emotionally moved by something.

And honestly? I think she's way up in her head about it. I'm not trying to dismiss her struggle here at all, but I do think she is stressing herself out about having something uniquely her own. About having a huge interest that speaks so strongly to her personally. And those are amazing to have, but it's really not necessary. She doesn't need a strong secondary passion so much as she needs to let go of trying so hard to force herself into something.

And what's happening in this scene in particular is that Parker is trying so so hard to force herself to feel something. It's evident in her face throughout the whole scene, in her body language. And she is so terrified that it's not going to work that honestly, I'm not surprised at all that it doesn't.

Eliot

On Eliot's side of this scene, he feels like he recognizes where Parker is. This entire job has him remembering how it was to feel nothing. Her phrasing got to him deeply. He wants to reach out and teach her to see something more, just like Toby taught him.

He knew a bit about how to cook before Toby. But it was only seeing Toby's passion that struck something in him, that awoke a part of himself he might've never known before. For Eliot specifically, cooking being an art isn't just something he likes. It's something that brings him hope.

Eliot doesn't believe in redemption. But he believes in actions. And what Toby did, by teaching him to cook, was to teach him that his actions can be good. That he can create, not just destroy. That all is not lost - not 'for' him necessarily, so much as 'in' him. There is a deep empty place inside himself that he can enter so so easily. The difficulty is crawling back out again. Cooking was his rope out of there. He still finds it difficult to express his emotions very often, particularly verbally, but when he makes someone a meal he puts a part of himself into it. And yet doing so doesn't take anything from him, it just adds more.

This is all very vague and figurative and may make no sense, but the takeaway I want to have is that Eliot is opening up to Parker on a very deep level here. He feels like he recognizes what she's talking about, and it was a very bad place for him. (Again, I don't think she is quite that badly off at this point in canon, but I digress.) And while making food allows him to feel that he is demonstrating his love for someone, that he is sharing a part of himself with them, he recognizes that she isn't receiving that. What she's getting, is just a plate of food. Tasty food maybe, but nothing more than that. And so Eliot verbalizes everything to her in a way he rarely does.

And then he keeps trying. This scene obviously doesn't end up making her feel something, and we don't get to see the immediate aftermath of that, but we can glean a little about how they feel based on their reactions. And Eliot is deeply determined to help Parker feel something from his food. He insists that she play the food critic; even speaks directly to her and reminds her to consider what they talked about.

In the restaurant, we start out with Parker dutifully playing her role but feeling nothing much beyond just the role. Eliot checks in with Parker, she acknowledges that the food is good but doesn't make her feel anything, and he makes improvements based on her feedback. Then something abruptly changes.

Parker: "I can taste garlic, and mushrooms... and something else that makes me feel different."

Hardison: "Wait, was that for me, cause I-I don't get it."

Parker: "No, it's the food. I get it." [smiles] "I feel something."

Parker: "Mmm! These black noodles are amazing!

Eliot: "Parker, it's tagliolini nero con gamberi."

Parker: "Mmm." [eats a huge forkful] "Mmm. Mmmm. These are really good."

Parker

What just happened here? Last we saw from Parker, she'd failed to feel something from the meal Eliot made especially for her in the brewpub, and she was clearly disheartened. She felt it as a failure, very much in the sense of a disappointment. She didn't want to try again, didn't think it would work, and tried to protest when Eliot said she would be the food critic. Even once she got to the restaurant, nothing was happening for her.

The difference wasn't in the flavor of the food. The moment Parker started to feel something was right after she said she felt nothing and Eliot, instead of being disappointed or giving up, took it as a challenge. He changed his recipe, he improved it specifically to better reach out to her. He kept trying.

And yeah, maybe the bone broth helped it taste better. But that wasn't the point, not really. The point is that Parker had gotten herself stuck in a hole, trapped herself in this cycle of not understanding how things make you feel and then believing that she just couldn't. She wanted something of her own and she didn't have it and she didn't immediately get anyone else's thing either, and that was it. She just wasn't capable. She was other. This is an old old fear of Parkers, dating back to Archie or even before. Something in her just isn't capable of being like other people. She wasn't worthy of being in Archie's real family, and she's not able to feel passion for anything outside of stealing. (Setting aside the fact that she loves her team, that all she needed was the right family. That you don't have to be a creator to feel passion, and you don't need to be passionate about any particular thing in order to feel deeply and find beauty in the world.) Parker has empathized deeply with people, has felt so intensely before and is constantly trying to learn more and new ways to be. But because she is noticing her teams' passions now, she has this ideal that she wants to reach, and none of that is good enough for her. She doesn't even know exactly what her ideal involves, but she can't get to it.

But when Eliot doesn't give up, that gets to her. If he views his food as sharing himself with others, Parker finally gets what he's been trying to give all along. It's all about him trying again and again, changing his approach to match her better. That's what she feels, that's what she enjoys.

And once she starts, the floodgates open. She loves the black noodles. She is so happy, she is relieved. There was this huge resistance that she couldn't get past before, but Eliot persisting helped her to break past that and now that she is out of her head about it she can enjoy the food in a way she never has before. Because she feels his love for her in it.

Eliot

Eliot is trying so hard to connect to Parker. It's not really different from what I said in the last Eliot section, and basically the same as what I just said in that Parker section, but I want to emphasize a little more just how much this is about love on his end.

Eliot loves Parker. He loves her, and he wants so much to help her. It doesn't honestly matter that he does this with food, except for the fact that food is what matters so deeply to Eliot himself. He can't reach out to her in the same way through any other medium. And we don't get to see his reaction to Parker's moment of realization. But I think it would be such a deep sense of joy. This is as fulfilling for Eliot as it is for Parker. It's exactly what Eliot has been hoping for this whole episode, to teach someone else to see food in the same way he does. It doesn't matter if it only lasts for a moment or a single meal. That's enough. He has been the support Parker needed through this time of self-doubt. And it is all the more meaningful to him because this isn't just a random student, this is Parker.

He told her he loves her through his food, again and again, and she eventually felt it. She understood. That must mean so much to him.

I wanna end with one more brief note on Parker. Does she get her own "thing" this episode? No. No she does not, and this scene shows us that. Parker is not suddenly interested in food or cooking. The importance of that meal was purely derived from Eliot on the other end of it, focused on her and trying his best to reach out to her.

And I don't think this is something only Eliot could have done for her either, not really. The difference between him and the others this episode is mostly in persistence. However, it's also about her mentality. Hardison has built/done things for Parker before and she felt them just as deeply - but the context was different. She wasn't looking for a sense of beauty or art in the world at large then, and so even though she felt the love in the gift just as much, it didn't make her feel like she could find that kind of emotion in other things. She just wasn't looking for it. Also, it was made easier for Eliot to reach out because there's that connection Parker has with him, that understanding that they are on the same level somehow. She doesn't feel that with Hardison - and she loves him all the more for him being different from her, but he also I think can intimidate her with how good and open he is, with how much he can feel in so many different directions. It's part of why she got so worried about herself not being able to do so this episode.

Like, the team has scolded Nate for not having a life or interests of his own outside the job not too terribly long ago! And Parker has had her own joys before! But she isn't seeing that this episode, too caught up in this fear about not having her own 'thing', not feeling anything that way. So while anyone could have helped her through this, it was easiest for her to let Eliot do so + for him to understand what she needed from him. (Hardison in particular was rudely robbed the opportunity, but they all love and support her and could have reached her. Not to detract from Eliot doing so, but also I don't wanna sound like no other method of reaching out would've worked.)

But as soon as she feels something once with Eliot's help, that relaxes those fears. And then Parker is free to look in other places. She remembers Nate's comment about art, and maybe even tells him what she plans based on him knowing where she is at the end of the episode. And then she goes to visit this statue. In her own way which means breaking in, but without any goal of taking it. She just goes to look at the art. And she feels something again.

Parker doesn't gain some big passion at the end of this episode. She doesn't need to. She never did. She just learns how to let herself relax from that restrictive frame of mind. To simply be in the moment and enjoy things for the sake of what they are. To feel - not really in any way she was incapable of before, but intentionally now. It's a quiet victory, in the end. It doesn't mean she's going to get a new hobby or change her lifestyle at all really. But she's let go of a fear and is now intentionally seeking out new connections with the world beyond her once-limited parameters.

#leverage #leverage meta #parker #eliot spencer #my meta #ugggggh why did this get so long?! i just wanted to jot down a few thoughts!#hopefully it's coherent #i'm like half-asleep at this point which probably accounts for the length since i ramble on when i'm tired. and also hopefully for anything #that doesn't make sense

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ot3tropetober · 4 years

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Fic: A Bushel And A Peck

AU: Eliot runs an apple orchard. @aimlessglee [AO3]

“What the hell is this?” Eliot asked, but he took the folder Hardison was handing him.

“Flavor,” Hardison said. “Background. Worldbuilding. Just read it, okay? I spend a lot of damn time on these aliases. You need to know who you are if we have to deploy them.”

Eliot flipped through the file. “Why is there a picture of me holding a basket of apples?”

“Just read it!” Hardison said.

Jeremiah Atherton, Jem to absolutely everyone or suffer the consequences, stood at the booth at the entrance to his family’s orchard. Momma and Pops had finally taken the plunge and bought a place down in Florida for the winter. The days were still sunlit and warm, but the nights were getting nippy, and they’d headed south a few weeks ago, promising to be back in the spring. They’d earned it, he thought. He smiled at the pretty blonde beside him - he’d known Heather since they were kids, even babysat her a few times when their parents went out and did stuff together. She made the best apple cider doughnuts in the county, and her pies were melt-in-your-mouth good. Their families had worked together a long time. It was a solid partnership, kind of part of his inheritance, and only he knew if he had a couple of soft thoughts about her every one in a while.

“Is that supposed to be Parker?” Eliot asked.

“Yes, it’s Parker,” Hardison said.

“Apple orchard, huh,” Eliot said. “Kinda…not very tough. Why can’t I run cattle?”

“Damn, Eliot, do you know the kind of effort it takes to keep a small operation running in this economy?” Hardison scowled. “Cows take care of themselves. Trees don’t. Also you can’t run cattle like that in New England.”

“Huh,” Eliot said, and went back to the file.

“Think it’s gonna be a good weekend?” Jem asked her.

Heather grinned. “It’s always a good weekend in the orchard.” She gestured around her. “Sun’s out. Nice and cool. People are gonna come pick a ton of apples and eat a bunch of doughnuts.”

“And they’ll drink cider,” Jem told her, hefting a gallon jug in each hand. “Don’t forget about the cider.”

“I never could,” Heather promised.

“It’s farm fresh,” he said.

“Honey, I know,” she said, putting her hand over his. “Why do you think I started making doughnuts? I wanted to get out of cider pressing.”

“‘Scuse me,” somebody said. They looked up to see a very tall, very handsome Black man dressed in a v-neck sweater that clung to the muscles of his chest, an expensive coat, and a scarf.

“Uh huh,” Eliot said. I see you.“

"What?” Hardison asked, all innocence.

“Hey, man, what can I do for you?” Jem said.

“I’m here to pick apples,” the guy said. “I kinda thought that was what people did here?”

“Weren’t you here last weekend?” Heather asked suddenly. She leaned her elbow on the counter and cupped her chin in her hand. “You were. You bought a dozen doughnuts and a half-gallon of cider.”

The guy smiled at her. “Good memory. I was, and I did. But you make a couple of pies and a batch of applesauce and boom, you need more apples.”

“And the weekend before that,” Heather said.

“I…like apples?” the guy said.

“We should make you a punch card or something,” Jem teased. “Tell you what.” He took one of the orchard’s business cards from a rack and scribbled on the back of it. “Come four weekends and I’ll give you a free peck the fifth time.” He held out the card, and the guy took it and looked at it fondly before he tucked it in his pocket.

“Deal,” the guy said.

“Take a doughnut,” Heather urged, wrapping one in a napkin as Jem pulled a basket off the stack and put it on the counter. “On me. You’ll need your energy.”

“Thanks,” the guy said. He smiled at them as he took the basket and the doughnut.

“Hey, man, what’s your name?” Jem called.

“Alistair,” the guy said. “Alistair Weaver.”

“What are you in this fantasy, some kind of fancy city lawyer?” Eliot asked.

“Well, yeah,” Hardison said. “That’s kind of how it works.”

Alistair did come back the next weekend, and then the weekend after that. They had a nice conversation every time Alistair showed up at the booth, which he did more and more often, coming back for a refreshing glass of cider or one of Heather’s sandwiches or a bag of cinnamon almonds. Jem found he was looking forward to seeing him. This time, Alistair was in a more casual outfit: a fleece and fitted jeans. He looked good, sophisticated in a kind of way Jem couldn’t pull off.

“Can’t resist that free peck, huh?” Jem teased.

“Not when you’ve got the best apples in the state,” Alistair said, and grinned.

“Did you know a peck can also be a quick kiss?” Heather said suddenly. “Usually on the cheek, but sometimes on the lips.” They both looked at her.

“She’s just kind of like that,” Jem told Alistair. “Says things.”

“I get it,” Alistair said.

“He owes you a peck,” Heather insisted. “Come on, Jemothy. Cough up.”

“That’s not my name,” Jem mumbled.

“Hey, if it’ll make you happy,” Alistair said. He leaned over the counter and presented his cheek to Jem.

“Uh,” Jem said.

“We’ll both do it,” Heather said. “Ready, Jem?” She pushed herself up on the counter and gave Alistair a dry little kiss on the cheek. Jem didn’t move.

“I get it,” Alistair said, winking at Jem. “You’re a big talker. You talk the talk, but you don’t peck the peck.”

“I do,” Jem insisted, and he leaned in and gave Alistair a quick kiss, barely brushing his lips over Alistair’s warm, freshly shaved skin. Alistair smelled really good, honestly. It kinda made Jem tingly inside. He wanted to press his nose against Alistair’s neck and just breathe him in.

“Now that’s customer service,” Alistair said. He took his basket and the doughnut Heather had insisted on giving him again. He grinned at them. “See you in a couple of hours.”

“A guy like that doesn’t drive out from the city every weekend just because he likes our apples,” Heather told him. “He likes you.”

“Maybe he likes you,” Jem said.

Heather shrugs. “Everybody likes me. He likes you especially. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Jem squinted at her. “I don’t think so.” But he was definitely waiting for Alistair to come back, he realized, as he weighed people’s baskets of apples and took their money. His heart jumped around a little when he saw Alistair approaching, or maybe that was his stomach. He’d stress-eaten a couple of doughnuts between customers. He snuck a glance at Heather, but she was busy, thank heavens. He’d had enough of her help for one day.

“Hey, man,” he said as Alistair handed the basket over.

“Hey yourself,” Alistair said, smiling sweetly. Jem ducked his face to hide the fact that he was blushing a little. Alistair leaned on the counter. “About earlier…I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. Seemed like kind of a joke between you and Heather, you know? I was just trying to play along.”

“What, the kiss?” Jem said airily, pretending like it hadn’t meant anything to him. “Nah. Heather’s like that. She likes to meddle. Don’t ever play Truth or Dare with her. I’ll give you that one for free.”

“Oh, that was a kiss to you?” Alistair joked. “Damn, I guess it’s a good thing I never asked for your number.”

“No, it wasn’t…” Jem started and then squinted at Alistair. “I gave you my number. It’s on the business card. You could have called any time. If, uh, you wanted to call. For whatever reason.”

“I didn’t think that was your personal number,” Alistair said. “Besides, I was kind of busy this week. Had to rush to finish all the work for a big trial so I could come out here today. Then I find out if I did call you and ask you out, the kiss I’m gonna get at the end of the date is a peck on the cheek.”

“That’s not how I kiss,” Jem protested.

Alistair raised one eyebrow and smirked.

“Not on a date, anyway,” Jem mumbled. He felt half-hypnotized by the warmth in Alistair’s deep voice and dark eyes.

“Tell you what,” Alistair said. “I’ll come back next week and you can prove it. When does the orchard close?”

“Seven,” Jem said.

Alistair nodded. “I’ll make reservations for eight. Where’s good around here?”

“My place,” Jem said boldly. “Not a better cook in the county.”

“It’s a date,” Alistair said. He checked his watch. “Hey, let me pay you for those apples.” Jem startled out of his daze and started bagging them up.

“You leaving already?” Heather said, finally disentangled from her customers. She started putting doughnuts and a half-dozen hand pies into a box. “Aww, Alistair. I feel like I barely saw you.”

“Don’t you worry,” Alistair said. “I’ll see you both next weekend.” He took the apples and the bakery box and handed over some cash.

“Y'ain’t that slick, ace,” Eliot said, but he said it fondly. He reached over and patted Hardison’s knee.

“You wanna put together the aliases, be my guest,” Hardison said, tapping at his keyboard and frowning at his screen. He softened up enough to smile at Eliot.

The date went well. Really well, actually. Jem had made dessert to go with the simple bread and stew he’d prepared, but dessert had to wait while he proved to Alistair that hell yeah, he kissed better than a peck on the cheek. Alistair made it back to his AirBnB that night, but after the next couple of weekends, he stopped bothering to book one, and they started waking up cuddled together on crisp Sunday mornings. Honestly, their relationship was pretty perfect: Alistair worked in the city in the week and came out on the weekends. Sometimes he even helped in the orchard, though operations were winding down and Jem was shifting to pumpkins, the corn maze, and hay rides, motorized and unmotorized.

“It’s not like work at all,” he said, standing in the front booth with Heather while Jem tinkered around in the engine of the old farm truck they used for hay rides sometimes. “Work is all research and computers and suits and yelling. This is peaceful. There’s fresh air. People are happy to see me.”

“I’m happy to see you,” Heather told him. He put his arm around her companionably. Jem grinned at both of them. He looked down at his stomach.

“Aw, hell,” he said. “Got grease all over my t-shirt.” He shrugged off his overshirt and reached down and stripped off his t-shirt. He put his overshirt back on and started to do up the buttons.

“WAIT,” Heather yelled. She ran to the house and came back with a glass, which she filled with cider and handed to Jem. “Alistair! Do you have your phone on you? Take a picture!”

“Way ahead of you, H,” Alistair said, coming up and crouching. “Jem, baby, strike a pose on that hay bale.”

“This is dumb,” Jem said.

“It’s absolutely not,” Alistair said. “I’ve got a buddy in advertising and we’re gonna use this to make an ad campaign for the orchard. Double your business easy.”

“We’re going to sell so much cider!” Heather said excitedly, clasping her hands together.

“Now that’s too much,” Eliot said.

“You wanna see the cider ad campaign or not?” Hardison asked.

“…yeah,” Eliot said.

“Back page,” Hardison said, still staring into his screen. Eliot flipped through. He had to admit, Hardison had done a hell of a job. He didn’t remember lying half-shirtless on a hay bale at any point, but looking at the photos, maybe he’d just forgotten. Hardison asked him to do a lot of stuff that seemed foolish at the time, and Eliot tried to forget it.

“Are we gonna use this any time soon?” he asked.

“You never know,” Hardison said mysteriously.

“I know,” Parker said, coming down from the ceiling. “And I like it. So maybe.”

“Well,” Eliot said. “Could be worse.”

“I know you know how good you’ve got it,” Hardison told him.

“Really good,” Parker agreed.

“Really good,” Eliot said, nodding along. He grinned at them. “The best.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Parker told him. “Let’s go find some cider doughnuts. I need to know what those are.”

“Let’s do it,” Eliot said, and together they pried Hardison away from his computer and went to find an orchard.

#au: apple orchard #ot3tropetober

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swordandquill · 3 years

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Title: Winter Break

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Author’s Note: Fair warning, I haven't written the rest of this story yet, and I'm not sure when I'll have a chance to finish it, but I thought the first scene was a good fit for the Comfortember prompt: exhaustion, so I'm going to go head and post it.

(Also, Sophie’s chapter is up next for Just a Call Away)

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

Eliot saw Hardison slump down into one of the hard terminal seats to his left and start punching away on his phone and didn’t even side eye him. There should have been at least a little spike of adrenaline in seeing him there when he definitely shouldn’t have been, but instead there was just a bone deep weariness that came with the knowledge that for Hardison to be there something had to be very wrong.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the woman at the gate counter did her best to sound apologetic, but it was obvious she was just frazzled; two massive storm cells had re-routed seven flights to the little Podunk airport, and there were more people crowded into the terminals than the place probably saw in two or three months, “there’s just no way to tell when we’ll be able to start rebooking outgoing flights.”

“No worries, darling,” Eliot fell back into an easy drawl, too tired for much else, “can’t control the weather.”

It hurt slinging his bag over his shoulder and reaching down to grab his second bag was almost too much effort to be worth it, but he did anyway, with an easy smile at the gate worker and no sign of discomfort.

When he got to Hardison, he let his bags fall heavily to the ground, then dropped himself into the chair beside him, still not bothering to look at him.

“Who else is here?” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head bowed.

“Whole team,” Hardison continued tapping away on his phone.

“Fucking hell,” Eliot rubbed a hand over his face.

“You alright, man?” Hardison finally glanced over at him.

“What have you checked so far?” Eliot ignored the concern.

It went without saying that all five of them being re-routed to the same airport in the middle of nowhere couldn’t be a coincidence, especially given the fact that the last job had been rough enough for them to take the precaution of booking five different flights on their way out, with the plan to regroup back at HQ gradually over the next three or four days.

“Running checks on air control, pilots, and flight staff,” Hardison offered, “haven’t found anything yet.”

“Can you get into the air control logs?” Eliot forced down a shiver; the hoodie he was wearing was no match for how cold it was outside and how poorly the terminal was heated.

The way every movement sent sharp pain through his shoulder though made it very clear to him that it wasn’t worth it to dig his coat out of his bag. The over-the-counter pain killers he had taken right before his flight had long worn off, and what he really needed was a place to hole up so he could take a round of the prescription strength stuff and get some rest.

That ship, it seemed, had sailed, though. And then been sunk under a foot of snow.

“Here,” Hardison handed his phone over to him, all the officially logged information on the seven rerouted flights on display.

Eliot flipped through the information, checking and cross checking all of it. He forced himself to go more slowly than he usually would, aware of just how tired he was and how easy it would be to miss something or make a mistake, and mistakes just weren’t an option where the team’s safety was at stake.

By the time he had listened to the exchanges between the tower and the pilots for all seven flights on Hardison’s earbuds, Nate had appeared, dropping down in the chair on Eliot’s other side, a paper cup of questionable coffee in one hand.

“Where are Parker and Sophie?” Eliot asked, his unease at their absence growing now that Nate had shown up and they still hadn’t; he knew they could take care of themselves, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

“Trying to find a coffee stand that will make a decent cappuccino and let Parker put half a bottle of syrup in her hot chocolate,” Nate relaxed back in his chair, not looking particularly distressed by their current situation, “you want anything?”

“No,” even the idea of coffee made his stomach roll; he knew he needed to eat something to settle it, but eating sounded like a terrible idea at the moment.

“Find anything yet?” Nate looked at Hardison over Eliot’s hunched back.

“Nothing,” Hardison shook his head, “plus I still can’t find us anywhere to stay. Everything is full.”

“Eliot?” Nate asked, glancing down at his phone when Sophie texted him a warning that Parker had managed to put six extra pumps of mocha in her hot chocolate without the barista noticing.

Nate wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or terrified. He settled on asking Sophie to grab a bottle of Gatorade for Eliot, then slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Nothing,” Eliot handed Hardison’s phone back to him, then slumped forward again, “three of the re-routes were requested by the pilots, four of them were made by air control. They tried to re-route Sophie’s flight to a larger airport, but the storm shifted, and they had to send it here. The pilot on your flight was retired air force. He kept using air force codes and the tower was giving him shit about it. Hardison’s pilot kept flipping his call sign and his co-pilot kept cutting in to correct it. Re-routes all make sense for the way the two storm fronts are shaping up.”

“What does that mean?” Hardison glanced at Nate over Eliot’s back, a slight tip of his head in the hitter’s direction.

“It means that there’s nothing there,” Nate dropped his free hand to the back of Eliot’s neck and began kneading, “if they were trying to pull something, they would have made sure everything was perfect in the logs in case someone went back to review them. Which means everything is pointing to this just being a really weird coincidence.”

“There is no way this is a coincidence,” Eliot grumbled, grateful to have some of the tension finally ease out of his shoulders under Nate’s hand.

“The world is a strange place,” Sophie’s very expensive and highly inappropriate for snow storms shoes appeared in Eliot’s line of sight, “you look awful, sweetheart.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before going to sit on Hardison’s other side, leaning over his shoulder and sipping her coffee as she watched him continued to try to find them a place to stay.

“Do you have any real shoes with you?” Eliot gripped at her.

“I’ll have you know, I could buy two sets of those fancy kitchen knives you love so much with what these shoes cost,” Sophie said in mock offense, “but I do have weather appropriate shoes if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll dig them out once we decide on our plan.”

Parker planted herself on the floor at Eliot’s feet and stared up at him, the line of chocolate on her top lip a clear indication that she had already managed to down her hot chocolate. Eliot just raised his eyebrows at her. He couldn’t deny, he felt better having all four of them close, knowing that at least they were in reach if something happened.

“Our plan is to find someplace to stay to wait out this storm,” Nate continued rubbing Eliot’s neck, “if the weather report is right, we could be stuck here for the next three or four days, and I don’t think any of us want to spend that long sleeping on airport benches.”

“Whatever we end up doing, we should stick together,” Eliot insisted.

Eliot knew he was paranoid, and he knew sometimes that paranoia was justified and sometimes it wasn’t. The problem was, it didn’t matter if there was actually someone out to get them, or he was just tired and his brain was defaulting to ‘danger,’ it all felt the same. It felt like his team was in trouble, and he needed to do something, needed to make sure they were safe.

“We are definitely sticking together,” Hardison grumbled, “I’ll be lucky if I can find even one room for us.”

“You hurt your shoulder again,” Parker frowned up at Eliot.

Nate’s hand went abruptly still on the back of his neck, and Eliot glared down at Parker. He had been careful about not showing the injury, but this was Parker, and her observation skills were frighteningly good. Her sense of tact, not so much.

“I just dislocated it,” Eliot did his best to sound dismissive, “it’s fine.”

“When did that happen?” Nate demanded.

“Does it matter?” Eliot was not interested in having this argument again.

“I need to know when you’re hurt on a job,” Nate squeezed his neck briefly, then went back to kneading at it.

“It’s fine. Popped it back in, no problem. It wasn’t worth throwing Sophie’s exit off for,” Eliot should really have straightened up and pulled away, but he couldn’t muster the energy to, “it happens… sometimes.”

He caught himself before he could say “all the time,” partly because that was definitely the wrong thing to say right now and partly because it wasn’t really true. There was permanent damage in his left shoulder that made it slightly more prone to dislocating, but it didn’t happen all the time.

“Tell me next time it happens,” Nate pulled his hand away, and it was everything Eliot could do not to follow it.

“You want me to tell you next time I skin my knee too?” the hitter asked peevishly.

“Yes!” the rest of his team chimed in.

“You’re all ridiculous,” Eliot grumbled at them, but he couldn’t help the quiet warmth that pooled in his chest.

“You should wear a sling after you dislocate it,” Parker leaned her head on his knee, still looking up at him, “it makes it feel better.”

“I don’t have a sling,” Eliot pointed out, “it’s fine.”

“You have pain meds,” Parker reached back to drag one of his bags closer.

“Need to eat something before I take any more,” Eliot used his foot to push the bag away from her; he would definitely end up retching if he tried to take even the over the counter stuff right now, and he’d rather not, “leave that alone. We need to figure out our next move.”

“You’re going to drink this,” Nate opened the Gatorade bottle Sophie had slipped him before handing it to Eliot, “and we’re going to have to think outside the box if we want to find a place to sleep tonight.”

Eliot glared at the radioactive yellow color, but took it anyway. Nate wasn’t wrong; he needed the fluids. He should have had Sophie grab him some tea though. Even crappy airport tea would have been better than Gatorade. He forced himself to finally sit up so he could drink, and Nate’s hand fell back to the nap of his neck and started kneading again. Eliot leaned back into it under the guise of settling into his chair more comfortably.

“We could buy a house,” Sophie suggested, only half joking.

“We could steal a house,” Parker grinned, head back to resting on Eliot’s knee, “that would be faster. Also more fun.”

“I could kick someone out of a room,” Hardison squinted at his phone, “but that seems like kind of a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh! Find someone who’s a jerk and kick them out,” Parker shifted so she could look at Hardison over Eliot’s knee, “then it would be okay, right Nate?”

“It would be… less not okay,” Nate offered, clearly amused, “but let’s call that plan D.”

“Can stealing a house be plan A?” Parker asked eagerly.

“No,” Nate snorted, “but it’s definitely ranking above sleeping in the airport for three days.”

“Sleeping in the airport better be plan Z.” Sophie huffed.

“No,” Hardison grinned, “plan Z has zombies.”

Eliot sipped at his Gatorade slowly, waiting to gauge how it would settle on an empty stomach, and tried to prioritize what they needed to do. Security and the team’s safety was always his first priority, but he needed to get his brain to let that go for a little bit so he could figure out what they would need to manage being snowed in in a tiny town for a week, because Nate’s estimate of three days was generous if the weather reports were even half right.

His brain was not cooperating. The airport was overcrowded with angry people who were looking at being stuck there for days with no other options, and every aggressive gesture and raised voice had his eyes jumping to the person, assessing the level of threat, then skittering away to the next one. There could be a threat there somewhere; the five of them ending up together some place they hadn’t intended to be felt like a trap.

He needed to get them out of here. That seemed like a good first step.

“Do we have a car?” he interrupted Hardison’s detailing of plan Z, which he had heard way too many times.

“Yeah, I reserved us a van as soon as I got in,” Hardison confirmed, “ain’t fancy, but they’re supposed to put the chains on for us.”

“Maybe we should just get out of here then,” Eliot gave the half full Gatorade bottle a disgusted look, “we should aim for getting enough supplies for all of us for at least a week, just in case, and it’s early enough that the grocery stores might still be open if the blizzard hasn’t shut them down.”

Somewhere behind them a disgruntled businessman got unnecessarily loud with airport personal and one of the meandering security guards started to make his way towards the disturbance. Nate felt Eliot tense under his hand and shift his weight to a position it would be easier for him to get up in a hurry from. Parker was starting to look a little twitchy too, although being pressed up against Eliot’s knee and at least partially sheltered from the chaos of the terminal was probably helping.

“I’m not keen on the idea of driving out into a blizzard with no final destination in mind,” Sophie frowned.

“Living out of a van with five other people and freezing my ass off for a week,” Hardison flipped through web pages faster than Sophie could follow, “that better be somewhere after plan Z.”

Eliot knew they weren’t wrong, but Parker was hugging the leg she was resting against like a teddy bear, and he would have to step on her if he had to get up quickly to deal with trouble. It felt like the better option was to go sort out their next move behind locked doors, even if they were just car doors.

Nate gave the back of Eliot’s neck a reassuring squeeze, and Eliot pulled his ankle back, partially trapping Parker between his leg and the chair. He gave her a tired smile when she looked up at him and pretended not to notice when she started untying his boot lace. She would retie it using whatever her favorite knot of the week was.

“We’ll call sleeping in the van plan E,” Nate offered.

“That seems awfully high on the list,” Sophie complained.

“Well, then we better come up with a plan A,” Nate scoffed, “and Eliot’s right, we’re going to have to make a supply run and try to stock up. It would be better not to have to make too many trips out if the roads are bad,” he pulled his notepad and pen out of his inner pocket and passed it to Eliot, “the grown-ups don’t want to live on orange soda and coco puffs for a week, so this one’s all you.”

“Put coco puffs on the list,” Parker stage whispered to Eliot.

He snorted softly, but put it down first. He was acutely aware that Nate was trying to give him some kind of distraction to focus on, and he wanted to be more irritated by it than he was, but focusing on something besides the crowd and being able to organize his thoughts on paper did actually help.

It took a surprising amount of food to feed five people for a week, plus the logistics of possibly losing power, and all the other things they would need, things to cook food in, plates and utensils of some kind if the place they were staying didn’t have any, restocking the med kit, taking into account that he really didn’t feel like cooking and the rest of team’s cooking skills ranged from “probably won’t kill anyone” to “definitely will make something explode.”

“Isn’t this hiking country?” Nate asked suddenly.

“Unfortunately,” Hardison grumbled, “I’m going to go sleep on the floor in the corner over there before I’m going to camp in this though.”

“Summer vacation rentals,” Eliot filled in before Nate could, “they’ll be closed up for winter, so they shouldn’t be booked. Just make sure they have their utilities turned on.”

Hardison perked up at the idea and started searching on his phone, Sophie leaning eagerly over his shoulder again.

“Finish this,” Nate picked up the bottle of Gatorade from where Eliot had set it on the arm rest and held it out to him, “or I’m hunting down a bottle of Pedialyte for you.”

“You know,” Eliot set the pad on his knee and took the bottle from him reluctantly, “Pedialyte actually tastes better.”

“Isn’t that like baby food?” Parker peered curiously at the list, noting with satisfaction that Eliot had put not only coco puffs but also fruity pebbles and frosted flakes on it for her.

“Yeah,” Nate confirmed, “so don’t be a baby and drink your Gatorade.”

“Got one,” Hardison announced, “a lovely summer chalet with two bedrooms and a sleeping loft, full kitchen, and real wood fireplace. Also, on the grid and utilities running. It’s closed for the winter, so no rental contacts listed.”

“Can we steal it?” Parker asked eagerly.

“Let’s try just renting it first,” Nate shook his head, “see if you can get a contact number for the owners.”

“If?” Hardison snorted, “like I couldn’t do this in my sleep.”

“Stop bragging and give me the phone,” Sophie tried to snatch the phone from him as soon as the number was up, “what are we doing?”

“Family vaca,” Nate ignored Eliot’s grumble from beside him.

They called the particular grouping of IDs “family vaca” because Eliot got angry when they called it “Eliot needs to go to the ER and Nate needs durable power of attorney for him,” although to be fair, there were other ways they used this particular arrangement.

“I’m so glad I reached you,” Sophie started talking before the person on the other end of the line could even ask who was there, giving Eliot a wink as she pulled out her friendliest southern drawl.

Eliot rolled his eyes and began adjusting the list now that he knew they would have an actual kitchen. Just how well outfitted a rental’s kitchen would be could vary widely, but at least they shouldn’t need dishes and utensils, and if they were lucky, it would have a gas stove and they’d still be able to cook if the power went out.

“Add marshmallows,” Parker demanded and let go of his leg to reach for his bag.

“Stay out of my stuff,” Eliot used his foot to push the bag away from her again.

“You need your jacket,” Parker swatted at his shin, “I know you had the one with the fuzz on the inside with you; you wore it when we were casing the warehouse.”

“Other bag,” Eliot gave in, then shoved Parker gently with his foot, “don’t rearrange anything in there. It’s all exactly where I want it.”

“You always pack your bags the same,” Parker complained as she unzipped the second bag, “it makes finding things so boring.”

“It’s…,” Eliot broke off, distracted by two security guards rushing past them, heading in the direction of the meager food court.

“Almost out of here,” Nate patted his knee, “once we’ve got the cabin worked out, we’ll hit up a grocery store, then get settled for the night.”

“I don’t like any of this, Nate,” Eliot frowned at him.

“I know,” Nate agreed easily, “it’s a lot of coincidence, but it’s also a lot of moving pieced that can’t be controlled or predicted, and we do need to get moving if we don’t actually want to spend the next week stuck in the airport.”

“Coat,” Parker held up Eliot’s jacket, one of his beanies firmly on her head.

He suspected he would not be getting that beanie back, but that was alright; he had another one somewhere and Parker would need a hat once they got out of the airport. He reached for his jacket, but Parker snatched it back.

“Let me help,” she insisted, “it’s not good to raise your arm over your shoulder right after you dislocate it.”

“You know, this is not the first time I’ve done this,” Eliot let her help despite his protest, “I know how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but you don’t half the time,” Hardison grumbled.

“If I ain’t dead then I delt with it,” Eliot glared.

“Sophie says it’s not funny to joke about that when you’re hurt,” Parker zipped up the jacket for him despite him trying to brush her hands away.

Sophie glanced over at them at her name, but continued her cheerful conversation with the rental owner, giving them little more than a raised eyebrow.

“Well, then, when is it funny to joke about it?” Nate asked, clearly bemused.

Sophie reached across both Hardison and Eliot to swat him, never once breaking the steady chatter of her conversation.

“Hat too,” Parker pulled a beanie over Eliot’s head, then tucked his hair back so it wasn’t in his face, “it’s snowing really hard. Did you put ice packs on your list?”

Eliot let her snatch the pad from him, although the fancy pen she started adding to it with looked like it was Sophie’s. He had not put ice packs on the list, but he had planned to grab a couple if they had any, along with more Tylenol and ibuprofen. He had some in his med kit, but if all five of them were going to be dipping into the kit, it would be better to stock up.

“You are just the sweetest thing,” Sophie cooed at the phone, “don’t you bother with coming out in this dreadful weather. We can manage just fine.”

Sophie hung up and grinned at the team, “the house is ours for as long as we need it. There’s a lock box on the porch with the key.”

“I can just pick the lock,” Parker protested as she pushed herself to her feet.

“It’s okay to use a key sometimes Parker,” Nate stood and started gathering up their bags, “maybe change it up a little every now and then.”

“I don’t like keys in lock boxes,” Eliot shoved himself up, “too easy to get to and copy.”

He was dizzy for a second, just long enough for Hardison to put a hand on the small of his back. Eliot stepped away from him and no one said anything. He just needed to eat something, preferably something that wouldn’t make him sick, that was all.

Hardison snatched up his bags before he could grab them, and if he hadn’t been feeling so lousy, he would have kicked him in the shin for it.

#leverage #comfortember #eliot spencer #Isabeau's writing

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