thank you so much for checking out my page! you are so appreciated.
The Pitt:
Jack/OC (Aila):
Jack's Morning - Jack has a conversation after leaving the hospital. Based off the scene 1.01
Espresso - Robby's normal shift ends with Abbot's wife in the ER.
Taco Bell - Canon Until 1.13. Robby ends up at the bar Jack's wife works at after shift, which leads to Taco Bell and talking.
Panic - Prompt: Person A is having a panic attack and they desperately try to hide it, but Person B sees right through them and knows the right thing to do to calm A down. Set after Espresso.
Jack’s Night : Jack, Robby and the roof.
Confessions: a whisky laced confession to his best friend about his best friend's sister. Set before The Pitt.
Moments: Three scenarios at the Abbot household.
A Birthday Conversation: Aila's birthday is coming up. Jack and her talk about plans for it.
Wake Up Call: Aila wakes her husband up with a blow job. (This story contains oral and vaginal sex.)
A Night Off: Jack's night off, a thunderstorm and waiting on a pizza delivery.
Aila's Birthday: Jack celebrates his wife for her birthday.
Pancakes: based off the @novelbear's Tumblr prompt, "look, i made pancakes! i even made a smiley face out of the whipped cream, see?" "oh, that's what it's supposed to be? you're so cute.."
Robby Calls: Robby calls after being gone for a month.
Robby/OC (Sophie) :
Small Confessions: Jack finally notices that Robby has a crush on the night shift charge nurse. Dana and Jack corner them.
Sophie's Night: an incident during the night shift, Jack calls Robby
Robby's Condo: set after "Sophie's Night." Robby brings Sophie home, three words are said between the two and a conversation.
Can't Sleep: When Sophie can't sleep, she asks Robby for an orgasm. Robby gives it to her. (This story contains oral sex.)
the morning after: a bad day, beer at the park ends with Robby and Sophie spending the night together, this is the morning after and the start of their relationship.
Redbull: A small blurb about Sophie and Robby. Sophie doesn't sleep.
Two Moments: Two small moments between Sophie and Robby.
Robbed: A blurb, Sophie get's robbed.
A Rough Night: A blurb. Sophie has a rough night, Abbot calls for back up with Robby.
Jack/Robby:
Quiet Acts - Quiet acts of love between Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch.
Achilles: Based off this verse, “Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down. Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?" Jack's wife dies in the Pitt, the aftermath is on the roof.
One Look: A prompt from Tumblr, "finding them on the bed and with only a look, they automatically know it is time for cuddles." Jack has bad day, Robby is there.
Friendships / Mentorships :
Unexpected Friendship: An unexpected friendship develops between Jack Abbot's wife and Frank.
Conversations: Part One | Part Two : Moments that turn into a mentorship between Jack Abbot & Melissa "Mel" King. Multi-Chapter Planned
Dunkin' & Red Bull: Part One | : Shen builds a friendship with Aila Abbot bonding over caffeine. | Multi-Chapter Planned.
Failed Epi Pens & Mimosas: Allergic reaction to shellfish ends with Jack's wife in the ER and she finally meets Dana Evans.
Leverage:
a Boston blizzard: prompt: blizzard. Eliot notices Parker.
high ground: prompt: firm squeezes on the shoulder or hand as a form of encouragement. Got the prompt for this Tumblr post by @novelbear
comfort in the quietness: prompt: pasta
trust: Prompt: “I need you to come get me. Please. I’m in the hospital.”
nightmares: the first time Parker showed up to Eliot's apartment. set after "The Stork Job."
a place to heal: After a harrowing accident during a job that leaves Parker injured and in need of care, Eliot brings her to his ranch with a promise to take care of her. As Parker begins to recover both physically, the relationship between Eliot and her grow.
two moments: two moments where Eliot takes care of Parker
you feel like home: prompt: "You feel like home."
a dance & a cowboy hat: prompt: a dance and a cowboy hat
a quiet thank you: Parker only says two words and Eliot takes care of her.
safe: Parker shows up at Eliot's beach house when she's hurt. (Set in season one. Parker/Eliot are dating, have not told the team.)
Gilmore Girls:
A Confession: A confession. Set after season seven. A one-shot. Based off the Taylor Swift lyric, “Give you my wild, Give you a child.”
The crew swoops in to save a family-owned beauty salon from being bought out by a mega conglomerate. The owner hasn't had a real job in a while, so to boost her self esteem, they send Eliot in as a customer. He thinks he's going in for a trim. She thinks (because Hardison and Sophie told her) that he's there for a makeover before a big charity gala. He gets the full package: manicure, scalp massage, deep conditioning, keratin treatment, blowout. It's glorious. He loves it and spends the whole time complaining.
Sophie takes advantage of the situation to buy him an outfit for the gala. The salon owner attends as well (in a gown also chosen by Sophie). Nate acts as their chauffeur. Hardison goes in as a competitor talks up the gala donors while Eliot glares at the ex-military security detail the conglomerate CEO brings. CEO orders his goons to kidnap the salon owner. Eliot loses a boot roundhouse kicking a bad guy and has to finish the job without it. Parker pickpockets the CEO's phone while Sophie is distracting him, and the crew exposes the conglomerate's misdeeds in front of everyone. Even after the fight, Eliot is a walking billboard for the salon's services, so the owner gets a ton of new clients.
When everything is over, Parker returns Eliot's boot and calls him Cindereliot.
(He goes back to the salon for a manicure and a scalp massage every month afterwards.)
I've started writing a leverage case-fic called "The Tornado Job." It would mean a lot of you would check it out. Here's the first chapter which is really the episode cold open:
'“Good God Woman!” Hardison screams, horrified, from the backseat–holding on for dear life as Parker slams down the gas pedal of Lucille.
Beside her, Eliot whiteknuckle grips onto the handle above the passenger seat. Despite having seen him in, what she would call, worse situations™, Eliot’s mouth is flattened in a straight line, brows furrowed, and forehead creased.
Grinning as she cackles with delight, Parker puts pedal to the metal and pushes Lucille to her limit and continues speeding straight toward the growing tornado.'
hihihi!!!! there's been a rise in fandom zines that ive seen and so i wanted to do an interest check for a leverage zine !!! no theme as of right now, but would you be interested in working on one?
once this poll is finished ill do a second one to figure out what time works best !!
Eliot Spencer was a man of contradictions. He had killed more people than you could count, and yet he despised guns. He was capable of murdering a man with a paperclip, and yet he was so gentle at times, imagining him hurting a fly was impossible. He was a professional hitter, and yet he was an incredible home cook.
These incongruencies were impossible to ignore, at least to you. You thought about how Eliot became the man he was often, even while discussing thieving techniques with Parker or playing World of Warcraft with Hardison. You thought about it the most when Eliot was around you; when you patched him up after a particularly tough fight, or when you visited his apartment in the city to watch a movie.
You thought about him, just him, pretty often as well, if you were being honest; his soft-looking hair, his kind eyes, his strong arms. Your crush on him was something you tried to deny at first, but even Parker eventually started asking why you were so distant when he was around.
You look forward to each and every interaction with him.
It was during one of those visits to his apartment that Eliot was the one who got distracted for once. He was telling you a story about one of the jobs Leverage took before you joined as the resident medic. As he regaled you with how he took out three security guards at once, he kneaded some dough on his kitchen counter.
His button-down’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the muscles of his forearms stretched and strained as he rolled and moved the dough around. When you realized you were staring, you looked up quickly, only to realize Eliot was already looking at you, a smirk on his face.
“You alright, Sweetheart? You seem… distracted.”
You feel your face flush.
“Yeah! Yeah I’m good.” You flounder with finding a change of subject, and you see his smile widen out of the corner of your eye.
“You're, uh. You're making bread, right? What kind?”
He lets you off the hook, but his eyes are still twinkling with mirth as he says, “Sourdough.”
You nod. There is silence for a moment before Eliot is heading towards you, flour-covered hand outstretched.
“Here, let me show you.” At your excited yet apprehensive face, he laughs. “C’mon, Sweetheart. I’ve seen you sew up a bullet wound in the back of a speeding car. I am positive you can knead a little bread.”
At that, you smile and take his hand. He leads to the counter and scoops up some flour from the bag nearby. He pours the flour into your open palms, gently spreading it over your hands. When he’s sure your hands are covered, he places them palms down on the dough.
“Now, just push the dough down and out.”
You do as instructed, and he shakes his head a bit. “You can push harder than that, Darlin’, it’s not made of glass.”
You apply more pressure, and hear Eliot mutter a quiet, “Atta girl,” before reaching out, working the dough into a new fold. His hands brush yours, and the flame in your face feels more like a bonfire.
“And… repeat steps one and two.” he says. You work in tandem for a few minutes in comfortable silence, you kneading and him folding, before he deems the dough ready. He reaches out and places his hands on yours to stop you. He takes out a bread knife and cuts the dough in half, giving you one and keeping one for himself.
“Now, we roll them each into a ball.” His voice is softer now, as if afraid to break the peace that has fallen between you. He shows you what he means, and you follow carefully. When you’re done, you place the halves into bread pans. He wraps them in plastic wrap and places them to the side.
You look up to ask what you’re supposed to do next, but your voice stops working when you notice he is already looking at you with an unreadable expression. He’s very close, you realize, close enough that you feel his breath on your face.
You take a breath to say something, anything to break the tension, and Eliot’s eyes shoot down to your lips before meeting yours again. Your breath is caught in your throat as he raises a hand toward your face. He stops just shy of touching you, hesitating before letting his hand drop again.
“The dough has to rise, now,” his voice is no more than a whisper.
You nod, your voice similarly quiet. “Thank you for teaching me.”
Eliot smiles and gives a slight nod before backing away to wash his hands in the sink. The spell hovering over you both breaks, and you feel as if you can breathe again.
After cleaning the kitchen, you both move to the couch in Eliot’s living room. It’s comfortable, large enough for both of you to stretch out without touching. He puts on an action film, but you don’t pay much attention, thoughts consumed by what happened minutes before.
He’d looked as if… as if he wanted to… no. You must have imagined it.
The rest of the night is spent in subdued silence. When the movie ends, Eliot walks you to your car. He opens his mouth to say something as you open the door, but ends up deciding against it. As you drive away, you see him stuck standing there in your rearview mirror, that same indiscernible look on his face.
In the weeks that follow, Eliot changes. Or, at least, the way he interacted with you does. While before you could sneak looks at him without being caught, he now was looking at you already every time you glanced his way. Each time, his smile would soften, and he would send a wink your way. While before he would only touch when he needed to, he now found reasons to touch you as often as he could. He places a hand on you back to guide you each time you go to meet a client, and slides a palm across your shoulders every time he passes you to take his seat in the meeting room. You try your best not to think anything of it. The feelings you had were one-sided, he was just being friendly.
Yet, you cannot deny that something has changed between you. He’s more protective on missions, more attentive at the office. He finds as many chances as possible to talk to you, whether it's about the weather or about a new horse he had just bought. The tension seems to grow with every secret wink, every subtle touch, every “Sweetheart” and “Darlin’,” until it finally breaks over a game of chess.
You’re losing, as you always are against Eliot. The headquarters are empty except for you two, the rest of the team retreating to their separate homes almost an hour ago. You’re analyzing your pieces and his, trying to choose your next move. You, again, know you’re going to lose, but you want to take out as many of his pieces as you can before you go. You reach up to nibble on a nail as you study the board.
When Eliot notices, he reaches out, pulling your hand away from your mouth and onto the table. You expect him to let go, but he doesn’t, instead holding your hand in his, thumb brushing back and forth on the back.
“Nasty habit, Sweetheart.” His tone is teasing, but you barely register his words, thoughts consumed by the gentle rubbing of his thumb against your hand. When you don’t respond, Eliot’s hand squeezes yours.
“Darlin’? You alright?”
“Oh!” you gasp and look up, meeting his smiling eyes. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just a little” you glance at your joined hands, then back at Eliot, “distracted.”
Eliot’s smile widens, and he squeezes your hand again.
“In a good way or a bad way?”
You shyly look down. “Good.”
He gives a sigh of relief. “Good. I was worried about that. I’m being as obvious as I can and yet getting absolutely nothing in return.”
You shake your head, confused.
“Obvious about what?”
Eliot leans back, then, and lets out a laugh, face tilted toward the ceiling.
“Okay, the Old Fashioned Way, then.”
He gets up and rounds the table to where you’re sitting, kneeling in front of you. He takes your hand in his, this time lifting it to press a kiss on the back, eyes never leaving yours.
“I like you, Sweetheart, quite a bit, actually,” he reaches up with his free hand, taking hold of your chin in his fingers gently. “Ever since that night in my apartment, you have been a thorn in my side; I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes are earnest as they search yours.
“Please, tell me I distract you at least a fraction of the amount you distract me.”
At this, you can’t help but let out a joyous laugh, hand raising to rest on his bicep.
“Eliot… you’ve distracted me since the day I met you.”
His smile turns blinding, and he leans forward so he can rest his forehead on yours. He glances down at your lips, and this time you don’t second guess it. You tilt your head up, and he meets you halfway in a chaste kiss. The hand on you chin slides up onto your cheek, and the hand on his bicep slides up into his hair.
When you break away, you both let out breathless laughs, eyes filled with contentment.
Eliot Spencer was a man of contradictions, but one thing would be consistent for the rest of his days; you would always be a distraction for him.
Florida. The job has to be in Florida during the hottest month of the year. The kind of heat that makes you irritable and constantly sweaty.
Best way to survive at this point is shorts tank tops and an AC unit on high enough to make a room a freezer.
The job was a relatively quick and easy. But now we have to wait for our flight tomorrow, at two in the afternoon.
The team is currently occupying a table in a pub. Good food, cold drinks, and music that doesn't make me want to kill someone.
The thought of cool shower and the bed awaiting me is helping with the homicidal urge. And food helps too, I suppose.
The only downside to the hotel is that I have to share with Eliot. Not that he's a bad roomie, he's actually excellent. Neat and thoughtful, especially because someone thought it would be funny to put us in a single bed room, and that someone knows that I like Eliot a little bit, and now we have to share a bed, the others all got rooms with double beds. And Eliot and I were the only co-ed.
I'm gonna kill Hardison. Slowly. Maybe I can make it look like an accident.
"So, you're tellin' me, you got scurvy?"
Eliot's low voice pulls me from my day dream.
"I almost got scurvy," Hardison explains. "Nanna caught it before it got bad and made me drink like a gallon of orange juice a day. Was not fun. You know what happens when you consume that much fruit? It's not pretty. I'm tellin' you it was like a -"
"Ew Hardison!" I exclaim, throwing a crumpled napkin at him. "TMI, dude. TMI."
"Damnit, Hardison."
"What's scurvy?" Parker asks, mouth full of food.
"It's when you're body doesn't have all the nutrients it needs, specifically vitamin c. You get it from fruits and vegetables, and if you don't get enough of it you get real sick," Eliot explains.
"It's why El and I try to feed them to you and Hardison and much as we can," I add.
"It's not anything to worry about really," Hardison says with a smirk, while waving a french fry around. "It's not a thing. Parents made it up to make kids eat their vegetables."
"Oh, interesting." Parker shrugs and continues to eat.
"No, Park-" Eliot starts, running a hand down his face to rest over his eyes. "Damnit Hardison."
I shake my head, then turn to Nate and Sophie to see if they want to be any help, but they are completely oblivious, having their own conversation. Giving each other bedroom eyes and thinking they are being subtle.
I roll my eyes and sigh.
I look down to my plate. My food is already gone and my drink only has a swallow left.
I grab my cup, down the last of the liquid, then push away from the table.
"Alright. I don't have the patients for this. Hardison, good luck trying to undo this one."
I turn and walk away, when Hardison yells after me.
"Hey! What about your bill?"
"You get to cover it for telling Parker that scurvy isn't real."
I flip him off over my shoulder as I open the door and leave.
The restaurant is only a few minutes walk from the hotel, so I don't have to be out in the heat long, thank goodness.
I walk through the front lobby, waving to the young woman, Gemma, behind the desk, then to the elevator up to my room.
The building is cool enough, AC on throughout, but once I unlock my door , heat floods out.
Damnit. One of us must have forgotten to turn the AC on before we left.
I enter the room, like walking into an oven, across the room to the AC unit.
Opon inspection, I find that no matter the buttons I push, nothing comes from it.
Shit.
I go to the phone on the side table and call down to the front desk, the call answering after a couple rings.
"Front desk, how can I help?"
"Hi, Gemma, I'm in room 302, and the AC unit is not working and it's an oven in here. Is there any body who could take a look at it?"
"Oh, shit. I will call maintenance to check it out, and have a couple fans sent up in the mean time. I'm sorry for it going out."
"That's alright. It not your fault. Thank you for your help."
"Of course. Maintenance should be there in a few minutes."
"Alright, thanks."
I hang up and flop back on the bed.
The air stale and unmoving.
I get up to open the window, standing next to it and enjoying the air. It may be hot outside, but the air moves.
A knock arrives on the door after a few minutes.
I go to the door and open it to reveal an older gentleman with a tool box in hand.
"I hear you are having some AC problems," he says.
"That I am. Please come in." I gesture for him to come in. "Thank you for coming. I hope you can fix it."
"I'll do my best," he says as he begins to examines the unit.
I sit on the bed and watch him take of the front of the unit, exposing the inner workings.
He tinkers and grumbles for a few minutes, before standing and turning to me.
"No good." He says, shaking his head. "One of the lines is broken and we don't have the parts on hand. It's out of commission until I can order the parts."
My heart sinks.
"Are you sure?"
He nods.
"Alright," I sigh. "Thank you for trying."
"You're welcome. Why don't we go ask Gemma if there is a empty room for you."
I nod, then get up and grab my room key and wallet. Then follow him out and head to the lobby.
Once there, he explains to Gemma about the unit, and asks if she could find another room for me, then head of towards the back.
I step up to the front desk, resting my arms on top, as she begins to type.
"Is there anything available?" I ask.
She gives me a sympathetic look, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry," she says. "Everything is full. The earliest I could get a room is tomorrow afternoon."
"We leave tomorrow."
I close my eyes, and run my hand over my face.
"It's ok. You said you had some fans?"
She nods.
"We do. I will have them sent up. They aren't as good as an AC, but it'll keep the air moving."
"Thank you, Gemma."
As I turn to head back up to my room, I see Eliot come in the entrance.
"Hey," he greats. "What going on?"
"I'll explain on the way up." I tell him, then walk towards the elevator.
Heim following behind.
Once in the elevator, I explain what happened.
"Great." He groans as he tosses his head back.
Once we get back to our room, the fans have already been dropped off, so we place them around the room to try to cool it down.
"Alright," I sigh, digging through my suitcase for clothes. "I'm going to shower."
"Why? Just gonna get hot again." His tone dripping in annoyance.
"Yes, but I'll be clean and hot." I snip back.
I grab my clothes and slam the bathroom door behind me.
The water is cool and refreshing. It takes away some of the frustration I had towards Eliot, but I'm still annoyed at him.
Once I'm done I put my pjs on, shorts and a tank, hopefully I'll be cool enough overnight.
I exit the bathroom to find Eliot, sprawled across the bed, right arm propped behind his head as he holds his book in his left.
He's only in his tank top and boxers, and the way he's laying, the hem of his top has ridden up to expose some of his stomach. And his arms are now on display, the fake tattoos Hardison and I placed yesterday are now visible, no longer covered by his button up.
The sight sends a heat through me, not helping in the slightest in the oven of our room.
I walk to my suitcase and shove my dirty clothes in.
"You okay?" He asks.
"I'm fine."
He then mutters something and goes back to reading.
I roll my eyes at him, crab my book and settle on the bed next to him, shoving a spare pillow between us.
We stay that way for a few hours, not talking, but at least it wasn't awkward.
When the words on the page begin to blur together, and read the same paragraph over again, I finally decide to put it away and get some sleep.
I tuck my book mark in, and place it on the nightstand, turning the light off, and shuffle down into the bed.
"Goodnight, Eliot." I say as I get comfortable.
"Night," he grumbles.
He moves a few minutes later, turning off his side lamp and settling in bed.
We lay back to back, like we have the past few nights. The only difference now is that it's like a sauna now.
I lay in the bed, blankets tossed off to the foot of the bed. I can feel Eliot radiating heat.
Rolling over, facing him, trying to find some part of the sheets that might be cool still. And I do, but it's gone in a flash.
I can make out his profile in the dark. He lays on his back, hand over his stomach, breathing shallow, and still as a board.
"You're staring," He mumbles.
"No m'not."
"You are. And to jostle the bed every time you move."
"'M just trying to get comfortable but I'm hot."
"So'm I. But I'm still trying to sleep."
I huff, sitting up on my elbow, leaning over him slightly.
"Easy for you to say. You aren't laying next to a radiator. Do you know how much heat you put off. It's like an oven in here, and you are putting off heat. How do you expect me to be able to sleep when it's this hot. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get heat exhaustion or -"
He moves so quickly I don't have time to react. He grabs my side in one hand and pushes me back into the bed. His body is pressed into mine as he pins me to the bed. Not so that I can't get away at all, but to make me stop moving for a moment.
"I have slept in worse conditions, and survived. So, you better quit complaining about how hot it it is, before I get you a reason to feel hot."
We lay there, body's pressed together. His eyes glow slightly with the light from the street lamps.
"That a promise?"
***********************************************
I sit at the table of the hotel's dining room table, head resting on my hand trying to wake up.
A hand on my shoulder gains my attention, I open my eyes to see Eliot's hand placing a mug of coffee in front of me.
I smile at him in thanks as he sits next to me.
The first sip is warm and comforting, mixed up perfectly. Of course it was.
"What's that on your neck?" Parker asks, pointing to the mark on my neck.
Her question is like a bucket of ice water dumped over me.
I look to her, bring a hand to my neck. I thought my hair had covered it, but it must've shifted.
"Um, I burned it, on a curling iron," I lie, hoping she'll except it.
"But your hair isn't curled. And Eliot has a similar one."
I look to Eliot, his gaze fixed on Parker, his expression neutral.
My gaze falls from his face to his neck, and sure enough, on his neck hidden by his hair, is a bruise I had left last night.
He finally looks at me, but before either of us can say something, Hardison, Nate, and Sophie join us at the table.
We all exchange groggy 'mornings' before Parker breaks the silents.
"She said she burned her neck with a curling iron," she points at me, then to Eliot. "But he has the same kind of mark, and he doesn't use a curling iron."
My face gets hot. I lean my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands, trying to hide from the rest of the team.
"Got damn!" Hardison exclaims. "You did the nasty!"
For @thepromptfoundry's Trope Fl!p Fest day 11 'blorbo in the real world', I'm having Parker and the Leverage gang watching the news!
Parker POV, Leverage ot3 Parker/Hardison/Eliot, team as a family, <1k words, rated G, no warnings apply
Cross-posted to Ao3!
~
Parker flops down onto the couch between Hardison and Eliot even though they're already sitting closely next to each other and there's really not enough space for her between her partners, getting comfortable against Eliot's chest and tangling her legs with Hardison's.
"Turn on the news. Please." Sophie always says you have to be friendly in a romantic relationship, so Parker is trying to remember her please-es and thank-yous. She thinks Hardison and Eliot might even notice. Sometimes.
Hardison obligingly switched the channel. A TV crew in France is standing around discussing a break-in into the Louvre, being badly translated and overly dramatified by the American news anchor in the corner image.
"Oh, are they showing the jewel theft?" Sophie leans over the couch, abandoning Nate to their game of checkers or whatever they were playing. Parker wouldn't dare let an in-progress game out of her sight like that, Nate's a cheat and she knows it. Well, they're all cheats when they can get away with it.
"There's been a break-in? Into the Louvre?!" Hardison gapes at the screen. "How'd they do it? Haven't they got top notch security in there?"
Parker snorts. Hardison can be so naive sometimes. Half the place doesn't even have cameras.
"They're pretty bad thieves," she judges as the report goes on. "They just smashed everything when they could have carefully broken into the display cases and avoided the alarm going off. And when the alarm did go off, they lost some of the shiniest parts of the loot!"
"Not very professional, I agree," Sophie nods along. "Although I can appreciate a good 'pretending we're supposed to be here' grift in the way they just walked right in, practically invisible in their high vis vests..."
"They could've done that and then still broken in properly," Parker argues, although she still thinks they could've easily stayed hidden completely. Sophie keeps trying to get them all to appreciate the finer points of a good grift, but Parker will always prefer hiding in vents and dark corners over pretending to be something she's not.
"They got caught at the airport?" Eliot suddenly exclaims, still watching the news report. "Who tries to fly commercial after a gig like that?"
"You think they got paid by someone else?" Hardison tilts his head.
Eliot just shrugs. "The loot wasn't caught with them, so either they hid it or they already passed it on to someone else, and there's no way to easily sell so quickly after the fact without having a private buyer already lined up beforehand. Someone wanted something for their personal collection, maybe they took whatever else they could get their hands on in the vicinity for extra cash..."
"They got caught because their DNA was on the things they lost on the way out," Parker pouts at the TV in professional outrage. "They didn't know what they were doing at all."
"Whoever hired them didn't know what they were doing," Nate gripes from somewhere behind the couch.
"Are we still not acknowledging that you can apparently just walk into the Louvre and walk out with a bunch of jewels like it's nothing?!" Hardison is nearly hyperventilating. That's bad, right? Like when he really didn't want to go bungee-jumping. Parker pats his hand.
"I think you're the only one this is news to," Eliot rolls his eyes at him.
Hardison reaches over Parker and pokes him. "Maybe I should improve their security for them," he muses. "We could break in, install some more cameras in their blind spots..."
Parker frowns. "Why would we stop thieves? We are thieves."
"If we keep all the shiny jewels in one place in a museum, you can get to them much more easily than when they're split up into lots of privately hidden away collections," Sophie suggests, like Parker can't tell that Sophie just likes museums and wants to talk Parker into helping Hardison with the breaking and entering part of updating the security.
