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moonlettuceTitle: Falling Into It
Author: Claire
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Alec/Eliot
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ruric for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
leveragexchange
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It's not as if Eliot woke up one morning when he was a kid and thought, yes, this is it, this is what he wants to do with his life.
Notes: Since you didn't give a specific prompt, I kind of took the spirit of the lyrics that you gave and came up with this. Hope you like :)
Also: yes, I did start grinning when I saw who I was writing for ;D
It's not as if Eliot woke up one morning when he was a kid and thought, yes, this is it, this is what he wants to do with his life.
He'd wanted to work with horses, be a trainer, or maybe a vet. He'd spent most of his free time with Willy in the stables, cleaning out the stalls, rubbing down the horses, talking to Aimee. His Daddy used to joke that he spent so much time at the stables, so much time with Willy that the other man would start to think he had two kids, instead of just Aimee.
He'd worked hard, saved money for college. After all, Eliot had a plan. He was going to become a vet, he was going to marry Aimee, and they would run the stables together, maybe have a couple of kids. That was Eliot's plan.
And then his Daddy got sick.
His Daddy got sick, and the insurance wouldn't pay out. So he stopped working at the stables and took every job he could, just to make sure there was enough money coming into the house.
But it still wasn't enough. Between the hospital and the house and the bills that kept coming and coming with more and more red on them, it just wasn't enough. So when he was first approached in the bar, first approached after that guy with the spilled drink and the attractive girl and the imagined slight discovered that a foot taller just means you go down harder, Eliot banked down on his first reaction of thanks, but no thanks. He'd banked it down and actually listened, half of his mind telling him he should just quit now and leave and half thinking about how much use that amount of cash would be right down.
So he'd said yes. Said yes and walked into a building with too many guys in it and too much against him. And he's not sure if it was him or them who was more surprised when he managed to walk out again. He may have been limping and sore and pretty sure his left wrist was broken, but he was still the one who walked out, still the one who wasn't left lying on the floor, beaten and broken.
He doesn't tell his Mama where the money came from, just told her that he'd been taking on more odd jobs, working longer hours where he could. Doesn't tell her that he has an aptitude for beating people up, for finding things, for retrieving things and getting the fuck out, that he never would have discovered if it wasn't for his Daddy lying in a hospital bed connected to more tubes than a man should be.
The thing is, it's not a story he's ever told. Has always just shrugged whenever anyone broached the subject. Shrugged and smirked and gave them a just sorta fell into it as an answer.
And it's not something the team's ever spoken about. It's one of the unwritten rules, ones of the things they just don't ask. But Parker's never much been one for rules, so Eliot's not surprised when it turns out to be her who finally asks what they've all been wondering about each other since they started on this.
It starts with another success, with knowing that they pulled off the job. Two months prep and more than three weeks in character had paid off and they'd done it. Money in the bank and bad guy in the shit and all of them back at the office while Nate broke out the good whiskey. Somehow It's gettin' late while throwing pointed glances that aren't fooling anyone at Alec becomes pour me another and trying not to squirm while a hand slowly makes its way up Eliot's thigh. It becomes several empty beer bottles joining the bottle of whiskey and the wine that Sophie produces at some point.
It begins easy enough, conversation that barely skims the surface of who any of them are, superficial and careful and about things they all knew about each other two weeks into the game. And then Parker asks, quiet and curious and the conversation lowers to a soft simmer of noise.
So, what made you all start?
Sophie's the first to answer. Just laughs, takes another drink and comments about people not actually thinking she was going to go through life working, did they?
There's words and stories and finally everyone looking at Eliot like he's about to impart some mystical secret of the universe. And for one moment, for one brief moment, he actually considers it, the pleasant buzz of alcohol running through him carrying the thought that this is actually a group of people he wouldn't mind knowing. But there's knowing and there's knowing, and he's had enough of people looking at him like he should have been able to do so much more with his life. Had enough of it at his Daddy's funeral with his Aunt Caroline looking at him and shaking her head softly.
"Ain't nothin' much to tell," he says, the sound of the beer bottle against the table fading into the air. "Got offered a job an' took it." He smirks as he shrugs. "Just sorta fell into it."
The conversation lingers for a couple of hours more before people finally start leaving, Parker disappearing to wherever Parker disappears to and Sophie promising to pour Nate into a cab and get him home. Considering her shoes are somewhere off in a corner and she can't walk straight or talk without giggling, Eliot's not sure if she's already on a losing streak with that intention.
Which leaves him and Hardison in a room with a fucking big table and the knowledge that they haven't touched each other in nearly a month.
"Damn, I thought they'd never le--"
But that's as far as Alec gets, Eliot swallowing the rest of the words as he seals his mouth over Alec's, the kiss harsh and quick.
"Less talk, more fuckin'."
Because they should have been naked several hours and a shit load of liquor earlier. Because Alec's hand has been stroking Eliot's damn thigh all fucking night, and Eliot's hard as a goddamn rock under his jeans. Because if Alec doesn't get naked and slick right the fuck now, Eliot's going to end up doing bad things to Alec's collection of original Star Wars toys, possibly involving Jabba the Hutt and Alec's ass.
The bottles smash as they hit the floor, Eliot pushing them off the table without even looking as he fists his other hand in Alec's tee and pulls.
Alec jerks as his back hits the table, tee riding up enough to make him swear as warm skin meets cool glass. "Damn, fuck, El--"
But the words die as Eliot looks at him. Because if Eliot can cope with Alec's hand massaging his crotch as Sophie looks at them like she knows exactly what's going on, then Alec can fucking well cope with lying on a cold glass table while Eliot rides him like he was back at the stables.
The condom comes out of Eliot's pocket the same time as the lube, tube staying in Eliot's hand as he tosses the square packet to Alec, foil barely in Alec's grip before Eliot's jeans hit the floor.
Alec's already rolled the condom onto his cock by the time Eliot straddles him, jeans and boots lying discarded and shirt open.
"C'mon--"
Alec's voice hitches in the middle, eyes wide as he watches Eliot reach behind himself. Eliot's eyes close briefly as his fingers slide into his ass, close briefly as the burn and stretch runs through him, fingers slick and wet and not enough.
"Eliot--"
His eyes open as Alec's hand rests on his hip, fingers gripping flesh as he tries to move Eliot down.
"Please--"
Eliot grins as he pulls his fingers out of his body, tug of loss making him shudder. "You want somethin', Hardison?" he asks, pressing against Alec's dick before pulling away.
Alec's answer is his other hand on Eliot's thigh and the soft bastard that slips out as Eliot keeps rubbing against his cock and moving away until finally, finally, Alec's fingers tighten their grip on him and pull, his cock catching against Eliot's ass and sliding inside.
Eliot's not sure if the resultant groan is his or Alec's, is half convinced it belongs to both of them. But it doesn't matter who's making the noise, doesn't matter about anything except Alec's cock pushing into his body, hot and hard and fucking perfect, until he's fully inside and the rasp of his jean's zipper is rubbing against Eliot's skin.
"Jesus fuck, El--"
Alec's thrusting up and Eliot's pressing down and neither of them are going to last long before it's over, because it's been too fucking long since they've done this, too fucking long since skin was against skin and Eliot had Alec in him, around him.
Eliot doesn't know how much time passes, harsh groans and the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air. Doesn't know how much time is gone before Alec's hand wraps around his cock like a vice and jacks him, once, twice, before Eliot's shuddering, teeth biting into his lower lip as he splatters Alec's hand and tee with his come. Doesn't know how much time passes as Alec continues to move into him, open and pliant and barely holding himself up, until Alec shouts and thrusts up hard, fingers digging into Eliot's flesh as he calls on God and his Mama both.
There's only a moment before Eliot's arms finally give out, and Alec whuffs out an oof as Eliot all but collapses on him, Alec's cock slipping out of his body as he lies on Alec's chest and ignores the murmur about heavy ass short guys.
Eliot thinks his Daddy would have liked Alec, if they'd ever met. Even thinks he'd sort of approve of what it is they're doing, of how they're helping people, even if he didn't like the path Eliot took to get here.
I just sorta fell into it.
It's kind of the truth and it's kind of a lie, but it's still Eliot's tale to tell.
"Hey, Hardison," he says, "you wanna hear a story?"
fin
Author: Claire
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Alec/Eliot
Recipient:
ruric for leveragexchangeRating: NC-17
Summary: It's not as if Eliot woke up one morning when he was a kid and thought, yes, this is it, this is what he wants to do with his life.
Notes: Since you didn't give a specific prompt, I kind of took the spirit of the lyrics that you gave and came up with this. Hope you like :)
Also: yes, I did start grinning when I saw who I was writing for ;D
It's not as if Eliot woke up one morning when he was a kid and thought, yes, this is it, this is what he wants to do with his life.
He'd wanted to work with horses, be a trainer, or maybe a vet. He'd spent most of his free time with Willy in the stables, cleaning out the stalls, rubbing down the horses, talking to Aimee. His Daddy used to joke that he spent so much time at the stables, so much time with Willy that the other man would start to think he had two kids, instead of just Aimee.
He'd worked hard, saved money for college. After all, Eliot had a plan. He was going to become a vet, he was going to marry Aimee, and they would run the stables together, maybe have a couple of kids. That was Eliot's plan.
And then his Daddy got sick.
His Daddy got sick, and the insurance wouldn't pay out. So he stopped working at the stables and took every job he could, just to make sure there was enough money coming into the house.
But it still wasn't enough. Between the hospital and the house and the bills that kept coming and coming with more and more red on them, it just wasn't enough. So when he was first approached in the bar, first approached after that guy with the spilled drink and the attractive girl and the imagined slight discovered that a foot taller just means you go down harder, Eliot banked down on his first reaction of thanks, but no thanks. He'd banked it down and actually listened, half of his mind telling him he should just quit now and leave and half thinking about how much use that amount of cash would be right down.
So he'd said yes. Said yes and walked into a building with too many guys in it and too much against him. And he's not sure if it was him or them who was more surprised when he managed to walk out again. He may have been limping and sore and pretty sure his left wrist was broken, but he was still the one who walked out, still the one who wasn't left lying on the floor, beaten and broken.
He doesn't tell his Mama where the money came from, just told her that he'd been taking on more odd jobs, working longer hours where he could. Doesn't tell her that he has an aptitude for beating people up, for finding things, for retrieving things and getting the fuck out, that he never would have discovered if it wasn't for his Daddy lying in a hospital bed connected to more tubes than a man should be.
The thing is, it's not a story he's ever told. Has always just shrugged whenever anyone broached the subject. Shrugged and smirked and gave them a just sorta fell into it as an answer.
And it's not something the team's ever spoken about. It's one of the unwritten rules, ones of the things they just don't ask. But Parker's never much been one for rules, so Eliot's not surprised when it turns out to be her who finally asks what they've all been wondering about each other since they started on this.
It starts with another success, with knowing that they pulled off the job. Two months prep and more than three weeks in character had paid off and they'd done it. Money in the bank and bad guy in the shit and all of them back at the office while Nate broke out the good whiskey. Somehow It's gettin' late while throwing pointed glances that aren't fooling anyone at Alec becomes pour me another and trying not to squirm while a hand slowly makes its way up Eliot's thigh. It becomes several empty beer bottles joining the bottle of whiskey and the wine that Sophie produces at some point.
It begins easy enough, conversation that barely skims the surface of who any of them are, superficial and careful and about things they all knew about each other two weeks into the game. And then Parker asks, quiet and curious and the conversation lowers to a soft simmer of noise.
So, what made you all start?
Sophie's the first to answer. Just laughs, takes another drink and comments about people not actually thinking she was going to go through life working, did they?
There's words and stories and finally everyone looking at Eliot like he's about to impart some mystical secret of the universe. And for one moment, for one brief moment, he actually considers it, the pleasant buzz of alcohol running through him carrying the thought that this is actually a group of people he wouldn't mind knowing. But there's knowing and there's knowing, and he's had enough of people looking at him like he should have been able to do so much more with his life. Had enough of it at his Daddy's funeral with his Aunt Caroline looking at him and shaking her head softly.
"Ain't nothin' much to tell," he says, the sound of the beer bottle against the table fading into the air. "Got offered a job an' took it." He smirks as he shrugs. "Just sorta fell into it."
The conversation lingers for a couple of hours more before people finally start leaving, Parker disappearing to wherever Parker disappears to and Sophie promising to pour Nate into a cab and get him home. Considering her shoes are somewhere off in a corner and she can't walk straight or talk without giggling, Eliot's not sure if she's already on a losing streak with that intention.
Which leaves him and Hardison in a room with a fucking big table and the knowledge that they haven't touched each other in nearly a month.
"Damn, I thought they'd never le--"
But that's as far as Alec gets, Eliot swallowing the rest of the words as he seals his mouth over Alec's, the kiss harsh and quick.
"Less talk, more fuckin'."
Because they should have been naked several hours and a shit load of liquor earlier. Because Alec's hand has been stroking Eliot's damn thigh all fucking night, and Eliot's hard as a goddamn rock under his jeans. Because if Alec doesn't get naked and slick right the fuck now, Eliot's going to end up doing bad things to Alec's collection of original Star Wars toys, possibly involving Jabba the Hutt and Alec's ass.
The bottles smash as they hit the floor, Eliot pushing them off the table without even looking as he fists his other hand in Alec's tee and pulls.
Alec jerks as his back hits the table, tee riding up enough to make him swear as warm skin meets cool glass. "Damn, fuck, El--"
But the words die as Eliot looks at him. Because if Eliot can cope with Alec's hand massaging his crotch as Sophie looks at them like she knows exactly what's going on, then Alec can fucking well cope with lying on a cold glass table while Eliot rides him like he was back at the stables.
The condom comes out of Eliot's pocket the same time as the lube, tube staying in Eliot's hand as he tosses the square packet to Alec, foil barely in Alec's grip before Eliot's jeans hit the floor.
Alec's already rolled the condom onto his cock by the time Eliot straddles him, jeans and boots lying discarded and shirt open.
"C'mon--"
Alec's voice hitches in the middle, eyes wide as he watches Eliot reach behind himself. Eliot's eyes close briefly as his fingers slide into his ass, close briefly as the burn and stretch runs through him, fingers slick and wet and not enough.
"Eliot--"
His eyes open as Alec's hand rests on his hip, fingers gripping flesh as he tries to move Eliot down.
"Please--"
Eliot grins as he pulls his fingers out of his body, tug of loss making him shudder. "You want somethin', Hardison?" he asks, pressing against Alec's dick before pulling away.
Alec's answer is his other hand on Eliot's thigh and the soft bastard that slips out as Eliot keeps rubbing against his cock and moving away until finally, finally, Alec's fingers tighten their grip on him and pull, his cock catching against Eliot's ass and sliding inside.
Eliot's not sure if the resultant groan is his or Alec's, is half convinced it belongs to both of them. But it doesn't matter who's making the noise, doesn't matter about anything except Alec's cock pushing into his body, hot and hard and fucking perfect, until he's fully inside and the rasp of his jean's zipper is rubbing against Eliot's skin.
"Jesus fuck, El--"
Alec's thrusting up and Eliot's pressing down and neither of them are going to last long before it's over, because it's been too fucking long since they've done this, too fucking long since skin was against skin and Eliot had Alec in him, around him.
Eliot doesn't know how much time passes, harsh groans and the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air. Doesn't know how much time is gone before Alec's hand wraps around his cock like a vice and jacks him, once, twice, before Eliot's shuddering, teeth biting into his lower lip as he splatters Alec's hand and tee with his come. Doesn't know how much time passes as Alec continues to move into him, open and pliant and barely holding himself up, until Alec shouts and thrusts up hard, fingers digging into Eliot's flesh as he calls on God and his Mama both.
There's only a moment before Eliot's arms finally give out, and Alec whuffs out an oof as Eliot all but collapses on him, Alec's cock slipping out of his body as he lies on Alec's chest and ignores the murmur about heavy ass short guys.
Eliot thinks his Daddy would have liked Alec, if they'd ever met. Even thinks he'd sort of approve of what it is they're doing, of how they're helping people, even if he didn't like the path Eliot took to get here.
I just sorta fell into it.
It's kind of the truth and it's kind of a lie, but it's still Eliot's tale to tell.
"Hey, Hardison," he says, "you wanna hear a story?"
fin
