Five Times Eliot Danced (and one time when he just punched someone instead) - Leverage - Gen (Eliot Spencer) - Words: 1,236
Summary: Eliot was a dancer and a fighter.
Content Notes: Minor violence. PG-13.
Author Notes: I blame![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
race_the_ace. Because she had to write a Leverage fic, and then I wrote a Leverage fic, because apparently we're one mind in two bodies so I suppose I blame myself.
On AO3: Five Times Eliot Danced
Five Times Eliot Danced
1. Eliot had always been masterful at being where he wasn't supposed to be. Didn't matter where it was, or why he wasn't supposed to be there, Eliot would find a way. So even though he was the only freshman at the senior prom, a good five inches shorter than most of the guys at the school - though he'd take on anyone who said anything about it - that didn't stop him from wrapping his arm around the waist of the prettiest girl in his school and leading her out onto the dance floor. Eliot didn't know a lot about dancing, but he did have excellent manners.
2. Eliot held the sword in front of him, the muscles in his arm tensing as he adjusted to the weight distribution. It wasn't his sword - Eliot didn't own any swords - but it had been decorating the wall of the hallway and there was a guy coming at him with a long blade of his own.
Eliot's instructor, who had never given Eliot even a fake name or any name at all (when Eliot asked what to call him, he had firmly been told; 'you don't') had always said that sword fighting was a dance. Not like a dance, but a dance. You reacted to your partners movements, they reacted to yours, and then when you both knew the steps, the one who had mastered them would come out alive.
"Come on," Eliot said. He'd assessed the man's stance and the way his hand gripped the hilt; Eliot was the better dancer, and he would prove it.
3. The woman had a knife held against Eliot's side just under his jacket, and Eliot could have pulled away and gotten cut open a bit, but that would spoil both his shirt and the evening. Eliot had guessed that there would be other people at the banquet who were attempting to retrieve the stolen heirloom, and had known that it would be well guarded. But he'd expected burly guards who thought they were tough because they had a gun at their belt, or other specialists who would slip through the shadows. He hadn't expected a diminutive woman who had invited him to dance in front of the host when Eliot could hardly refuse, and then the poke of a knife point against his side.
"After you," Eliot said, hoping his smile matched that of a man who had just been invited to dance by a beautiful woman.
4. Eliot echoed Sophie's fake smile as they moved through the ballroom. They had making small talk, borrowing id cards and cellphones, and working through the crowd for nearly an hour as they tried to find someone that was socially close enough to their mark. Parker was working safely from behind the catering counter, where she hopefully wouldn't stab anyone with anything, and Hardison and Nate were muttering instructions and information through the earpieces.
"Are we done yet?" Eliot whispered as the guests were urged out onto the dance floor.
"Not even close," Nate replied before Sophie could say anything.
Eliot extended a hand to Sophie and they joined the crowd, finding a small pocket of space where they could move without being overheard.
"Just be glad it's not Nate," Sophie whispered, covering her words with a cough as she rested one of her hands on Eliot's shoulder.
Eliot supposed that she had a point.
5. "Hardison couldn't have done this?" Eliot asked, mostly to the audience that was at the other end of their earpieces.
"No, I couldn't. Now just go on the dance floor and I'll let you know when I've got something," Hardison replied in Eliot's ear, sounding incredibly smug.
Eliot glanced down when he felt Nate's hand nudging up against his and barely held back a snarl.
"Relax, we fit right in," Nate pointed out as they walked further into the club.
Eliot looked around and found that in their uncomfortable leather get-ups that they did blend in with the rest of the patrons. That didn't make it any less uncomfortable. "Now what?" he asked.
Nate made a show of looking at what the rest of the club was doing. "We dance, and we wait until Ferguson shows up."
Turning so that he was facing Nate, Eliot shifted his body in time to the music, letting Nate latch onto his hand. Somehow, Nate looked infinitely more comfortable than Eliot felt, moving his shoulders and his hips like he didn't care if it was an invitation for people to stare at him.
"Just be glad it's not Parker. She crushed my toes the last time I had to dance with her," Nate said with a shrug that fit right into his dance moves.
Eliot heard the "hey!" over his earpiece before Nate had even finished speaking.
and the one time when he just punched someone instead
"I don't want to dance with you and I don't want you to buy me a drink."
Eliot heard the words from almost all the way across the moderately crowded club, Parker's voice clear through the music and groups of people talking. He had become attuned to the sound of his team, the pitches in their tones telling him more than their words. Parker was upset, but not yet frightened, and just on the verge of doing something that would get her thrown out of the club.
Looking for Hardison and not seeing him - Nate and Sophie had opted to not participate in the team night out - Eliot moved through the crowd of bodies, reaching Parker just in time to hear her say: "I told you to go away."
The man was right next to Parker, leaning in so that he was looming over her. Enough people had tried to loom over Eliot in his life that he felt no remorse for what he was about to do.
"She told you to back off," Eliot said loudly, moving so that the man would have to turn away from Parker to address him.
The man barely turned his head. "Mind your own business," he said before moving closer to Parker. "How about we get out of here?"
Eliot felt he'd given fair warning, more than he should have under the circumstances, and grabbed the man by his shoulder, effortlessly moving him out away from the bar before punching him across the face. There wouldn't be any permanent damage, and Eliot barely felt the sting on his own knuckles as the skin broke.
"I could have done that," Parker said, standing up so she could look down on the man who was sprawled on the floor and screaming.
"Maybe we should leave?" Hardison suggested, coming up next to Parker and Eliot. "I can't even leave to go to the bathroom without you two getting into trouble."
Eliot glanced to where a pair of bouncers were moving through the crowd. "Let's go."
"He deserved it," Parker pointed out as they maneuvered their way out well before the bouncers could reach them.
"Yes he did," Eliot said, savoring the rush of cool air as they stepped out onto the street.
"I'm sure he did. Now, there's another place I know about two blocks from here. Do you think you guys can behave?" Hardison asked, already leading the way.
Eliot and Parker exchanged glances.
"That depends," Eliot said, "on whether or not anyone asks us to dance."
Summary: Eliot was a dancer and a fighter.
Content Notes: Minor violence. PG-13.
Author Notes: I blame
race_the_ace. Because she had to write a Leverage fic, and then I wrote a Leverage fic, because apparently we're one mind in two bodies On AO3: Five Times Eliot Danced
Five Times Eliot Danced
1. Eliot had always been masterful at being where he wasn't supposed to be. Didn't matter where it was, or why he wasn't supposed to be there, Eliot would find a way. So even though he was the only freshman at the senior prom, a good five inches shorter than most of the guys at the school - though he'd take on anyone who said anything about it - that didn't stop him from wrapping his arm around the waist of the prettiest girl in his school and leading her out onto the dance floor. Eliot didn't know a lot about dancing, but he did have excellent manners.
2. Eliot held the sword in front of him, the muscles in his arm tensing as he adjusted to the weight distribution. It wasn't his sword - Eliot didn't own any swords - but it had been decorating the wall of the hallway and there was a guy coming at him with a long blade of his own.
Eliot's instructor, who had never given Eliot even a fake name or any name at all (when Eliot asked what to call him, he had firmly been told; 'you don't') had always said that sword fighting was a dance. Not like a dance, but a dance. You reacted to your partners movements, they reacted to yours, and then when you both knew the steps, the one who had mastered them would come out alive.
"Come on," Eliot said. He'd assessed the man's stance and the way his hand gripped the hilt; Eliot was the better dancer, and he would prove it.
3. The woman had a knife held against Eliot's side just under his jacket, and Eliot could have pulled away and gotten cut open a bit, but that would spoil both his shirt and the evening. Eliot had guessed that there would be other people at the banquet who were attempting to retrieve the stolen heirloom, and had known that it would be well guarded. But he'd expected burly guards who thought they were tough because they had a gun at their belt, or other specialists who would slip through the shadows. He hadn't expected a diminutive woman who had invited him to dance in front of the host when Eliot could hardly refuse, and then the poke of a knife point against his side.
"After you," Eliot said, hoping his smile matched that of a man who had just been invited to dance by a beautiful woman.
4. Eliot echoed Sophie's fake smile as they moved through the ballroom. They had making small talk, borrowing id cards and cellphones, and working through the crowd for nearly an hour as they tried to find someone that was socially close enough to their mark. Parker was working safely from behind the catering counter, where she hopefully wouldn't stab anyone with anything, and Hardison and Nate were muttering instructions and information through the earpieces.
"Are we done yet?" Eliot whispered as the guests were urged out onto the dance floor.
"Not even close," Nate replied before Sophie could say anything.
Eliot extended a hand to Sophie and they joined the crowd, finding a small pocket of space where they could move without being overheard.
"Just be glad it's not Nate," Sophie whispered, covering her words with a cough as she rested one of her hands on Eliot's shoulder.
Eliot supposed that she had a point.
5. "Hardison couldn't have done this?" Eliot asked, mostly to the audience that was at the other end of their earpieces.
"No, I couldn't. Now just go on the dance floor and I'll let you know when I've got something," Hardison replied in Eliot's ear, sounding incredibly smug.
Eliot glanced down when he felt Nate's hand nudging up against his and barely held back a snarl.
"Relax, we fit right in," Nate pointed out as they walked further into the club.
Eliot looked around and found that in their uncomfortable leather get-ups that they did blend in with the rest of the patrons. That didn't make it any less uncomfortable. "Now what?" he asked.
Nate made a show of looking at what the rest of the club was doing. "We dance, and we wait until Ferguson shows up."
Turning so that he was facing Nate, Eliot shifted his body in time to the music, letting Nate latch onto his hand. Somehow, Nate looked infinitely more comfortable than Eliot felt, moving his shoulders and his hips like he didn't care if it was an invitation for people to stare at him.
"Just be glad it's not Parker. She crushed my toes the last time I had to dance with her," Nate said with a shrug that fit right into his dance moves.
Eliot heard the "hey!" over his earpiece before Nate had even finished speaking.
and the one time when he just punched someone instead
"I don't want to dance with you and I don't want you to buy me a drink."
Eliot heard the words from almost all the way across the moderately crowded club, Parker's voice clear through the music and groups of people talking. He had become attuned to the sound of his team, the pitches in their tones telling him more than their words. Parker was upset, but not yet frightened, and just on the verge of doing something that would get her thrown out of the club.
Looking for Hardison and not seeing him - Nate and Sophie had opted to not participate in the team night out - Eliot moved through the crowd of bodies, reaching Parker just in time to hear her say: "I told you to go away."
The man was right next to Parker, leaning in so that he was looming over her. Enough people had tried to loom over Eliot in his life that he felt no remorse for what he was about to do.
"She told you to back off," Eliot said loudly, moving so that the man would have to turn away from Parker to address him.
The man barely turned his head. "Mind your own business," he said before moving closer to Parker. "How about we get out of here?"
Eliot felt he'd given fair warning, more than he should have under the circumstances, and grabbed the man by his shoulder, effortlessly moving him out away from the bar before punching him across the face. There wouldn't be any permanent damage, and Eliot barely felt the sting on his own knuckles as the skin broke.
"I could have done that," Parker said, standing up so she could look down on the man who was sprawled on the floor and screaming.
"Maybe we should leave?" Hardison suggested, coming up next to Parker and Eliot. "I can't even leave to go to the bathroom without you two getting into trouble."
Eliot glanced to where a pair of bouncers were moving through the crowd. "Let's go."
"He deserved it," Parker pointed out as they maneuvered their way out well before the bouncers could reach them.
"Yes he did," Eliot said, savoring the rush of cool air as they stepped out onto the street.
"I'm sure he did. Now, there's another place I know about two blocks from here. Do you think you guys can behave?" Hardison asked, already leading the way.
Eliot and Parker exchanged glances.
"That depends," Eliot said, "on whether or not anyone asks us to dance."
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