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Leverage - Fragile
Trying out a new fandom. Saw the prompt and could not resist. *g*
Title: Fragile
Fandom: Leverage
Genre/Pairing: OT3, Parker/Alec/Eliot
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,400 words
Spoilers: None, really.
Warnings: Aftermath of violence.
Synopsis: It sucked, but it could have been worse.
Author’s Notes: For the prompt: Leverage: Parker/Alec/Eliot – Fragile at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smallfandomfest. I got to play in a new sandbox!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the universe they play in. I am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Eliot looked down at the tiny figure that lay stock still in the middle of the bed. Crisp white sheets blended with crisp white gauze wrapped around skin that would have been pale save for the dark bruises dotted along it. A blue blanket was folded neatly at her waist, seeming to contrast with the pink little dots on the shirt she wore and who the hell ever thought to dress Parker in pink anyway?
He sat down heavily in the chair he had pulled up to the bedside and held his head in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Parker was never supposed to be the one knocked unconscious from her injuries, body too stiff to move, so light in his arms when he had scooped her up from where she lay crumpled on the pavement.
There was a creak of footsteps and the scrape of a chair leg against the floor. A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he tensed, but refused to shrug it off, especially when he knew it was only supposed to comfort. He didn’t want the comfort, but he looked up to see a concerned looking Hardison at his side, and knew the action was for him as much as it was for himself.
“It’s not your fault, man,” Hardison insisted. The hand rubbed a small circle, grazed over a healing bruise. “There was nothing you could have done.”
“I could have stopped him,” Eliot said simply, knowing there was nothing more to say. This is why he worked alone: that way the only one who paid the price for his screw ups was him. No one else caught in the crossfire; no one else ending up beaten and bruised. But no, he stuck around too long, formed partnerships, formed relationships – now he was responsible for others and his mistakes cost them as much as they cost him, maybe more.
Hardison gave him a wide-eyed blink, which always meant sarcasm was on its way. He wasn’t disappointed. “Yes, yes, because you were only busy with four, no, it was five, other guys – all armed mind you – and should have been able to finish up with them and rush the sixth on the second floor of the building across the street before he got off the shot.” Alec shook his head. “You should have been able to race back down and catch her in your manly arms when the line broke too.”
Eliot knew what he was getting at. It didn’t mean he liked it.
“We’re a team, man,” Hardison continued. “I should have seen the guy and warned both of you. The moment the sensors were tripped, I should have gotten you two out of there. Did it happen? No. Did it suck? Yeah. But it could have been so much worse.”
“Worse than this?” Eliot asked. He stood and started pacing in the small room. He gestured towards the bed. “She’s got broken ribs, a concussion, and a dislocated shoulder. Her wrist is sprained, as are three fingers. Tell me how it could have been worse.”
“She could be dead,” Alec shrugged. There was a haunted look to his eyes though, and Eliot knew how much it cost him to admit that. “The bullet could have hit her instead of her rig. It could have hit sooner rather than later and she could have fallen from the twentieth floor instead. She could have landed on the pretty spiked fence... Should I go on? Because I’ve got a few more scenarios running through my head right now that all end up far worse than her in this bed and you alive to brood and bitch at me about it.”
“Please don’t,” a new voice begged. It was groggy and slightly slurred and definitely coming from the figure on the bed. Parker blinked her eyes open, only to look like she was glaring in their general direction.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Eliot asked, at her side in an instant. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face and resisted the urge to call her “baby” or “sweetheart” or any of the other names that she usually made him pay dearly for.
“Like I have broken ribs, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, a sprained wrist, and twisted fingers,” she replied, letting them both know exactly how long she had been awake. “Also? Like I have two hovering guys feeling sorry for themselves and thinking I’m some broken little play thing. It rather pisses me off. I don’t like it.”
Hardison snorted from his new position on her other side. “We’re just worried about you, that’s all,” he insisted.
“Why? Are you worried you won’t be able to find someone else to take you both on at once? The chances do seem small,” she told him earnestly. She shifted slightly on the bed and winced at the simple movement. The fact she then allowed both men to reposition both her and the pillows to prop her more upright was telling.
“You have to admit, it does seem pretty unlikely,” Eliot reluctantly grinned as he tucked the blanket back around her.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Especially with the pity party you two seem to have going on right now.” She grunted and blew her bangs out of her eyes, not seeming to mind when Hardison brushed them to the side with his fingers.
She held up her own bandaged hands and pointed at both of them. To Hardison, she said, “You were on sensor duty. You watched and you warned and you did your job. You even got the getaway car in position for us to get out of there.” A glare at Eliot and she added, “You were on hitter duty. You beat up everyone within range and got me out of there before the shooter decided I was a nice steady target.”
“Yeah, but...” Eliot tried, but was cut off by a weak push to the chest.
“But we did what we could based on what we knew. Things sucked, they could have sucked worse, bitching about the way they sucked is not going to change the outcome.” She didn’t shrug, but looked like she could have if it did not involve vast amounts of pain. “Now, is that enough to get through to you, or do I need to beat your heads together?”
Eliot looked down to where she now held both of their shirts in a lax grip and tried not to smile. A glance at Alec and both dutifully nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”
She screwed up her bruised face and asked, “Was that a yes I got through to you, or a yes I need to beat your heads together?”
“You got through,” Hardison clarified with a hint of a grin. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back to take in her doubting features once more.
“Loud and clear,” Eliot insisted, gifting her with a kiss of his own. If he paused to breathe in the scent of her skin beyond the smells of antiseptic and fiberglass braces, that was no one’s business but his own. A glance to Hardison advised him that, okay, it was probably his as well.
“Good,” Parker nodded. She crossed her arms in front of her and frowned at the way the braces snagged on the blanket. “Now, where’s Nate?”
“Giving the clients their money,” Eliot replied. They had gotten the goods; it was just the getaway that had gone horrifically wrong.
Parker’s eyes lit up. “That means I get paid!”
Alec chuckled. “That means we all get paid, baby.”
She wrinkled her nose at the endearment and declared, “And that means you owe me ice cream.” She must have moved funny as she winced and thunked her head back against the pillows. “Possibly vicodin flavored.”
“I’ll see if that can be arranged,” Eliot told her. He pushed himself up from the bedside and wandered over towards the door, pausing to wrap an arm around Hardison’s shoulders along the way and offer a reassuring squeeze. Things were going to be okay. They sucked, but, like most things in their tenuous relationship, they might just still work out.
He started to walk out the door to find the nearest Ben and Jerry’s when he heard, “Hardison, why am I in pink?”
With a snort, he quickened his step and decided “okay” might not be quite the right word just yet.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Fragile
Fandom: Leverage
Genre/Pairing: OT3, Parker/Alec/Eliot
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,400 words
Spoilers: None, really.
Warnings: Aftermath of violence.
Synopsis: It sucked, but it could have been worse.
Author’s Notes: For the prompt: Leverage: Parker/Alec/Eliot – Fragile at
smallfandomfest. I got to play in a new sandbox!Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the universe they play in. I am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Eliot looked down at the tiny figure that lay stock still in the middle of the bed. Crisp white sheets blended with crisp white gauze wrapped around skin that would have been pale save for the dark bruises dotted along it. A blue blanket was folded neatly at her waist, seeming to contrast with the pink little dots on the shirt she wore and who the hell ever thought to dress Parker in pink anyway?
He sat down heavily in the chair he had pulled up to the bedside and held his head in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Parker was never supposed to be the one knocked unconscious from her injuries, body too stiff to move, so light in his arms when he had scooped her up from where she lay crumpled on the pavement.
There was a creak of footsteps and the scrape of a chair leg against the floor. A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he tensed, but refused to shrug it off, especially when he knew it was only supposed to comfort. He didn’t want the comfort, but he looked up to see a concerned looking Hardison at his side, and knew the action was for him as much as it was for himself.
“It’s not your fault, man,” Hardison insisted. The hand rubbed a small circle, grazed over a healing bruise. “There was nothing you could have done.”
“I could have stopped him,” Eliot said simply, knowing there was nothing more to say. This is why he worked alone: that way the only one who paid the price for his screw ups was him. No one else caught in the crossfire; no one else ending up beaten and bruised. But no, he stuck around too long, formed partnerships, formed relationships – now he was responsible for others and his mistakes cost them as much as they cost him, maybe more.
Hardison gave him a wide-eyed blink, which always meant sarcasm was on its way. He wasn’t disappointed. “Yes, yes, because you were only busy with four, no, it was five, other guys – all armed mind you – and should have been able to finish up with them and rush the sixth on the second floor of the building across the street before he got off the shot.” Alec shook his head. “You should have been able to race back down and catch her in your manly arms when the line broke too.”
Eliot knew what he was getting at. It didn’t mean he liked it.
“We’re a team, man,” Hardison continued. “I should have seen the guy and warned both of you. The moment the sensors were tripped, I should have gotten you two out of there. Did it happen? No. Did it suck? Yeah. But it could have been so much worse.”
“Worse than this?” Eliot asked. He stood and started pacing in the small room. He gestured towards the bed. “She’s got broken ribs, a concussion, and a dislocated shoulder. Her wrist is sprained, as are three fingers. Tell me how it could have been worse.”
“She could be dead,” Alec shrugged. There was a haunted look to his eyes though, and Eliot knew how much it cost him to admit that. “The bullet could have hit her instead of her rig. It could have hit sooner rather than later and she could have fallen from the twentieth floor instead. She could have landed on the pretty spiked fence... Should I go on? Because I’ve got a few more scenarios running through my head right now that all end up far worse than her in this bed and you alive to brood and bitch at me about it.”
“Please don’t,” a new voice begged. It was groggy and slightly slurred and definitely coming from the figure on the bed. Parker blinked her eyes open, only to look like she was glaring in their general direction.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Eliot asked, at her side in an instant. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face and resisted the urge to call her “baby” or “sweetheart” or any of the other names that she usually made him pay dearly for.
“Like I have broken ribs, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, a sprained wrist, and twisted fingers,” she replied, letting them both know exactly how long she had been awake. “Also? Like I have two hovering guys feeling sorry for themselves and thinking I’m some broken little play thing. It rather pisses me off. I don’t like it.”
Hardison snorted from his new position on her other side. “We’re just worried about you, that’s all,” he insisted.
“Why? Are you worried you won’t be able to find someone else to take you both on at once? The chances do seem small,” she told him earnestly. She shifted slightly on the bed and winced at the simple movement. The fact she then allowed both men to reposition both her and the pillows to prop her more upright was telling.
“You have to admit, it does seem pretty unlikely,” Eliot reluctantly grinned as he tucked the blanket back around her.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Especially with the pity party you two seem to have going on right now.” She grunted and blew her bangs out of her eyes, not seeming to mind when Hardison brushed them to the side with his fingers.
She held up her own bandaged hands and pointed at both of them. To Hardison, she said, “You were on sensor duty. You watched and you warned and you did your job. You even got the getaway car in position for us to get out of there.” A glare at Eliot and she added, “You were on hitter duty. You beat up everyone within range and got me out of there before the shooter decided I was a nice steady target.”
“Yeah, but...” Eliot tried, but was cut off by a weak push to the chest.
“But we did what we could based on what we knew. Things sucked, they could have sucked worse, bitching about the way they sucked is not going to change the outcome.” She didn’t shrug, but looked like she could have if it did not involve vast amounts of pain. “Now, is that enough to get through to you, or do I need to beat your heads together?”
Eliot looked down to where she now held both of their shirts in a lax grip and tried not to smile. A glance at Alec and both dutifully nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”
She screwed up her bruised face and asked, “Was that a yes I got through to you, or a yes I need to beat your heads together?”
“You got through,” Hardison clarified with a hint of a grin. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back to take in her doubting features once more.
“Loud and clear,” Eliot insisted, gifting her with a kiss of his own. If he paused to breathe in the scent of her skin beyond the smells of antiseptic and fiberglass braces, that was no one’s business but his own. A glance to Hardison advised him that, okay, it was probably his as well.
“Good,” Parker nodded. She crossed her arms in front of her and frowned at the way the braces snagged on the blanket. “Now, where’s Nate?”
“Giving the clients their money,” Eliot replied. They had gotten the goods; it was just the getaway that had gone horrifically wrong.
Parker’s eyes lit up. “That means I get paid!”
Alec chuckled. “That means we all get paid, baby.”
She wrinkled her nose at the endearment and declared, “And that means you owe me ice cream.” She must have moved funny as she winced and thunked her head back against the pillows. “Possibly vicodin flavored.”
“I’ll see if that can be arranged,” Eliot told her. He pushed himself up from the bedside and wandered over towards the door, pausing to wrap an arm around Hardison’s shoulders along the way and offer a reassuring squeeze. Things were going to be okay. They sucked, but, like most things in their tenuous relationship, they might just still work out.
He started to walk out the door to find the nearest Ben and Jerry’s when he heard, “Hardison, why am I in pink?”
With a snort, he quickened his step and decided “okay” might not be quite the right word just yet.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
no subject
"possibly vicodin flavored.". :)
no subject
Lovelovelove!