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raynedanserwritesFandom: Leverage
Title: We're not Friends
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raynedanser
Pairing: Nate/Eliot pre-slash
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~ 820
Author's Notes: Written forpesha for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
leverage_sesa. No spoilers, no specific time period, takes place after a made up job
Leverage SeSa 2009 v2
Nate let out a tired sigh and leaned forward, staring at his reflection. Even underneath all the scum and dirt and grime, he still looked pale and tired. Behind him, the tub filled with steaming water. He looked forward to easing his aching, dirty body into it. He was unbuttoning his shirt when the door opened. He looked up, shirt half unbuttoned, his fingers slipping in the grime that coated the buttons as he tried to slip them through the small holes.
"Hey! I'm half naked in here!" he said. He wondered if he sounded as tired as he felt. He looked up and Eliot's frame filled the doorway, feet wide, arms crossed over his chest, a withering glare cast in his direction. He was too tired to wonder what he'd done to earn such a thunderous stare from him.
"Eliot. I thought you'd left." He watched as Eliot moved closer, still glowering, still not speaking. "Got something to say?"
"What the hell were you thinking, rushing in there like that without back up? I told you I was coming..." Eliot snapped.
Nate carefully walked over to the tub, checked the steaming water, adjusted the flow and turned around. Nate raised one eyebrow.
"There was no time, I had to get in there," Nate explained. He tried the remaining buttons again, but still couldn't get the buttons to work. When Eliot stepped closer with a quiet huff and began sliding the dirty buttons through their holes, Nate held his breath and waited patiently. He wondered what had pissed Eliot off, what had brought the outburst on. When Eliot was done with the buttons, he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest again, just as though he hadn't helped Nate. He grimaced and carefully slipped his arms out of the shirt and let it land on the floor in a heap. He unfastened his pants, shimmied them down so he was only standing in boxers and gingerly stepped out of them. They would never come clean and he made plans to burn them with the shirt the first chance he got.
"You really wanna stick around for this?" Nate asked quietly. He stood in nothing more than his boxers, the rest of his smelly, grimy clothes cast aside in a haphazard pile.
Eliot took in the candy cane print on Nate's boxers and barely turned up one corner of his mouth in response before he turned around. "You should have waited," he growsed.
"There was no time, I had to get in there," Nate said again.
"You could have been killed."
Nate slid his boxers down and kicked them into a different pile than the rest of his clothes, then turned the water on the tub off. He stepped into the tub, then sank down until the water touched his chin and leaned back. "Eliot, most of what we do is dangerous. Why is this time so different?"
Eliot turned around, his mouth clamped shut. "It's not. I mean, we're not even friends right?" he asked, throwing Nate's words from long ago back at him.
Nate winced, then picked up the facecloth and the soap and began to lather the cloth up. "Right."
"Besides," Eliot said, a slight smile twisting his mouth. "You stink. My friends don't stink. What the hell happened?"
Nate began wiping the soapy cloth all over, doing his best to rub away the scum from his body. Eliot was right. He did stink. "When I went in to the barn to help Mr. Anderson, one of Mr. Burl's men threw me into a stall."
"So that's manure?" Eliot asked, barely containing the smile now that he'd calmed down. At least, Nate thought he'd calmed down. What was going on here?
"Yeah, it's manure. We'll have Parker burn my clothes or blow them up or something. She'll love that." He watched warily as Eliot came over to the tub and picked up the cloth.
"Lean forward, you'll never get your back," Eliot said softly.
Nate obliged and leaned forward and waited as Eliot trickled soapy water down his back and then rubbed away the manure and grime, sitting back only when Eliot tossed the cloth into the tub again. When Eliot stayed behind him, Nate sighed. "I should never have said that," he said softly.
"Said what?"
"You know damn well what. That we weren't friends."
"Oh, that. So - are we then?"
"Yeah. I guess we are."
Eliot pushed Nate under the water playfully, then stood. "Good, hurry up and get out, I'm hungry."
Nate sat in the tub a moment, staring at the door that Eliot had shut behind him when he left the bathroom. He couldn't help but wonder just what the hell had happened there and if he'd ever figure it out.
Title: We're not Friends
Author:
raynedanserPairing: Nate/Eliot pre-slash
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~ 820
Author's Notes: Written for
pesha for leverage_sesa. No spoilers, no specific time period, takes place after a made up jobLeverage SeSa 2009 v2
Nate let out a tired sigh and leaned forward, staring at his reflection. Even underneath all the scum and dirt and grime, he still looked pale and tired. Behind him, the tub filled with steaming water. He looked forward to easing his aching, dirty body into it. He was unbuttoning his shirt when the door opened. He looked up, shirt half unbuttoned, his fingers slipping in the grime that coated the buttons as he tried to slip them through the small holes.
"Hey! I'm half naked in here!" he said. He wondered if he sounded as tired as he felt. He looked up and Eliot's frame filled the doorway, feet wide, arms crossed over his chest, a withering glare cast in his direction. He was too tired to wonder what he'd done to earn such a thunderous stare from him.
"Eliot. I thought you'd left." He watched as Eliot moved closer, still glowering, still not speaking. "Got something to say?"
"What the hell were you thinking, rushing in there like that without back up? I told you I was coming..." Eliot snapped.
Nate carefully walked over to the tub, checked the steaming water, adjusted the flow and turned around. Nate raised one eyebrow.
"There was no time, I had to get in there," Nate explained. He tried the remaining buttons again, but still couldn't get the buttons to work. When Eliot stepped closer with a quiet huff and began sliding the dirty buttons through their holes, Nate held his breath and waited patiently. He wondered what had pissed Eliot off, what had brought the outburst on. When Eliot was done with the buttons, he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest again, just as though he hadn't helped Nate. He grimaced and carefully slipped his arms out of the shirt and let it land on the floor in a heap. He unfastened his pants, shimmied them down so he was only standing in boxers and gingerly stepped out of them. They would never come clean and he made plans to burn them with the shirt the first chance he got.
"You really wanna stick around for this?" Nate asked quietly. He stood in nothing more than his boxers, the rest of his smelly, grimy clothes cast aside in a haphazard pile.
Eliot took in the candy cane print on Nate's boxers and barely turned up one corner of his mouth in response before he turned around. "You should have waited," he growsed.
"There was no time, I had to get in there," Nate said again.
"You could have been killed."
Nate slid his boxers down and kicked them into a different pile than the rest of his clothes, then turned the water on the tub off. He stepped into the tub, then sank down until the water touched his chin and leaned back. "Eliot, most of what we do is dangerous. Why is this time so different?"
Eliot turned around, his mouth clamped shut. "It's not. I mean, we're not even friends right?" he asked, throwing Nate's words from long ago back at him.
Nate winced, then picked up the facecloth and the soap and began to lather the cloth up. "Right."
"Besides," Eliot said, a slight smile twisting his mouth. "You stink. My friends don't stink. What the hell happened?"
Nate began wiping the soapy cloth all over, doing his best to rub away the scum from his body. Eliot was right. He did stink. "When I went in to the barn to help Mr. Anderson, one of Mr. Burl's men threw me into a stall."
"So that's manure?" Eliot asked, barely containing the smile now that he'd calmed down. At least, Nate thought he'd calmed down. What was going on here?
"Yeah, it's manure. We'll have Parker burn my clothes or blow them up or something. She'll love that." He watched warily as Eliot came over to the tub and picked up the cloth.
"Lean forward, you'll never get your back," Eliot said softly.
Nate obliged and leaned forward and waited as Eliot trickled soapy water down his back and then rubbed away the manure and grime, sitting back only when Eliot tossed the cloth into the tub again. When Eliot stayed behind him, Nate sighed. "I should never have said that," he said softly.
"Said what?"
"You know damn well what. That we weren't friends."
"Oh, that. So - are we then?"
"Yeah. I guess we are."
Eliot pushed Nate under the water playfully, then stood. "Good, hurry up and get out, I'm hungry."
Nate sat in the tub a moment, staring at the door that Eliot had shut behind him when he left the bathroom. He couldn't help but wonder just what the hell had happened there and if he'd ever figure it out.
