Regrets
Eliot Spencer x reader
Set during and after The Studio Job (S:3, E:6)
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The men Kirkwood hired to intimidate Nate had noticed you were with him and brought you along by force. They were tall - taller than Nate, and definitely taller than you. At first, you aren’t worried. Eliot would come to save you both in just a few seconds. But then, a minute passes of Nate quietly calling him with no answer. You whisper your own plea of his name, but nothing comes back. You aren’t worried about him being hurt - nobody had a reason to hurt him. No, if he wasn’t answering, it was because he had taken his earpiece out. But why…?
As the men tie you and Nate to the chairs they (forcefully) sat you in, you try to fight the sinking feeling in your stomach. That singer, your client. Kaye… something? She had been eyeing up Eliot since you had first met her. Surely he wouldn’t… not on a job…
Your thoughts are interrupted by a pained wheeze on your left, brought on by a powerful punch to Nate’s stomach. You cry out at them to stop, barely remembering to keep your southern accent intact, but the men just laugh at you. One even goes so far as to backhand you for talking too loudly. He has a ring on, and the power of the blow and the sting of the cut it slices through your cheek makes you gasp as your head is whipped to the side. The man then grabs your chin, turning it so you have to look him in the eyes.
“I said ‘keep quiet’ Sweetheart.”
Where Eliot’s “Sweetheart” always gives you a sort of warm, fuzzy feeling, this man saying it chills your blood. You glare up at him with watering eyes. Distantly, you hear Eliot’s urgent voice in your ear saying, “hang on!” but it barely registers.
Before you can fire back, probably just to receive more punishment, Nate pipes up.
“C’mon, y’all. That’s no way to treat a lady,” he lets out a wheezing laugh, “it’s me you’re trying to ‘convince’ ain’t it?”
When they shift their attention back on him, he smiles easily, playing up his confidence.
“Besides, which one of y’all would be getting the most money out of this anyway? Kirkwood doesn’t pay well from what I hear.”
The men pause and look at each other and, amazingly, begin to argue. The argument turns to blows, and before long, they both are knocked out.
You turn to Nate, amazed.
“How did you know that would work?”
Nate winks.
“I didn’t.”
Just then, the door bursts open, revealing Hardison, Parker, Sophie, and Eliot. The others run straight for Nate, and Eliot beelines it for you. He skips untying you by cutting the rope with a pocket knife before sinking to his knees in front of you. He hovers his hands around your face, eyes locked on the angry, red line that you can feel dripping blood down your cheek. You narrow your eyes when they meet his, and don’t bother to hide the tears leaving them.
He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.
“Where were you? Actually, you know what?” You stand abruptly and turn to help the others with Nate.
“I don’t even want to know.”
“Sweetheart, I…”
You ignore him, straightening your clothes and swiftly walking out the door.
-------
The rest of the job is tense. Eliot clearly feels some kind of responsibility to this woman (Kaye Lynn, you learn she is called). He is furious when he finds out about Kirkwood stealing the song to perform, and he is determined to fix it for her.
He tries multiple times throughout to talk to you, to apologize, but you give him the cold shoulder. How dare he. How dare he! After flirting with you for months. You knew he was a player, you knew he got around, but this? Sleeping with a client on the job? Letting Nate and you get hurt?
…
Honestly, you should have seen it coming. Kaye Lynn was perfect; she was petite, talented, cute - everything you weren’t. Where Kaye Lynn had to look up to meet Eliot’s eyes, you could meet them head on. Where picking Kaye Lynn up would be a breeze, picking you up would take effort. You weren’t ashamed of your height, quite the opposite, but you hated when men saw it as a hindrance to your looks. You’d thought that Eliot was… well, it doesn’t matter what you’d thought. You had been wrong, clearly.
It isn’t until after the con that you speak to him again. In truth, it’s Hardison who convinces you, though you know he would take that to his grave.
You’re in the kitchen of the office/apartment, cleaning and reapplying a bandage to your cut, when he and Eliot walk in. They’re laughing and talking as they enter, but Eliot’s smile dies when he sees what you’re doing. He comes around the island to your side, sitting down next to you heavily.
“Sweetheart, I’m so-”
You stand and grab your mirror before collecting your excess bandages and heading out the door.
You hear Eliot sigh as you leave, but you don’t turn around. You don’t even realize Hardison has followed you until you’re sitting in the poker room, and he takes a seat next to you.
“He really is sorry, you know.”
At this, you frown.
“Is he? He seemed pretty content while Kaye Lynn was still around. Honestly, sleeping with a client in the middle of a job?”
Hardison nods in agreement.
“I know, he was completely in the wrong. He let you get hurt, and worse,” He puts a hand on yours to stop what you’re doing and make you focus on him, “He hurt you. In more ways than one.”
At your narrowed eyes, he smiles wryly.
“C’mon. You really thought nobody would notice? You’ve been head over heels since you joined, Girlie.”
You sigh in defeat and nod, tears coming to your eyes now that it’s been said out loud. You love him. You’re in love with him, and he let you get hurt because he was distracted with screwing another woman.
You lay your head in your crossed arms and let out your anguish in a long sigh. Hardison places a comforting hand on your back, rubbing back and forth until you’re all cried out. You sit back up, and Hardison hands you a tissue.
“I get it, Girlie, really I do. You think it doesn’t hurt every time Parker doesn’t…” he sighs. “These kinds of things take time.”
You look at him and nod in consolation.
“He shouldn’t have done what he did, and I am not saying you should give him a free pass. I guess,” he rubs a hand over his head, “I guess I’m just saying give him a chance to explain himself. If his excuses are crap, by all means, keep ignoring him, but girl.” He shakes his head this time, frowning at you. “He is miserable. Absolutely miserable. Like, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again’ miserable.”
Somehow, you don’t doubt that. You’ve never doubted that Eliot cares for you; he cares about the whole team, despite how he tries to hide it. No, you just know he doesn’t care enough. Not enough to go further than just flirting, and not enough to think of you when another woman was in front of him.
You sigh. It’s not his fault he doesn’t like you the same way. He could have paid better attention, sure, but you can’t keep hating him forever. If you’re honest with yourself, you never did hate him.
“Fine.”
Hardison gives the air a fist bump before standing up. Before he leaves, he leans down to you.
“Don’t tell him I said any of that, okay? I don’t want his head to get bigger than it already is.”
You offer a soft laugh.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
—------
The next time you see Eliot, you’re thankful you’re alone. You’re doing research on the next con when he comes into the office. You take a deep breath when you see him, and you try to look past the immediate anger you feel. He looks… tired. And exactly as Hardison said: miserable. There are dark circles under his eyes, and when he sees you his eyes light up momentarily before growing dim again. He takes a hesitant step towards you when he, too, notices you’re alone.
“Sw-” he stops, and begins again, this time with your name.
The change makes your heart ache.
“I’m sorry.” he pauses, and when you stay put, just looking at him, he stumbles the rest of the way forward to take your hand in his.
“I am so sorry I let that happen to you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was exhilarated from performing and I needed to get y-” he cuts himself off again, “you don’t need my excuses. ” he raises a hand to gently run a finger along your cut and he winces as if he can feel it himself.
“Would,” he pauses, as if hesitant to ask, “would you tell me what happened?”
You nod, and tell him the whole story. When you mention the man called you “Sweetheart” after slapping you, his eyes grow dark, as if he’s planning every way he could go back and murder him.
He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, and lets the hand on your face turn to cup your cheek.
“I will never, ever stop apologizing for what I let them do.”
You shake your head.
“You’ve been apologizing for weeks, El.”
“It’s not enough.”
You sigh, deciding now is as good a time as any to tell him how you felt. Maybe, if he’s still in the throes of guilt, he’ll let you down gently, though in the back of your mind you know he’ll do that anyway.
“That wasn’t… that wasn’t the only reason I was upset.”
Eliot’s frown deepens.
“I was upset because you were sleeping with her while I was getting hurt.”
He sighs, ”I didn’t know you were-”
“I was upset that you were sleeping with her at all.”
At that he stops and looks at you for a moment. Really looks at you. He takes in your tired eyes, your flushed face, your frowning mouth, your tensed posture… He looks, realizes, and frowns deeply. Your heart sinks.
“I know, I know I have no right to be upset about that.” You raise your hands in surrender and stand to take a step back, “and I know you don’t feel the same way, I just-”
He stands up immediately at that, and follows you step for step until you’re backed against the wall. He shakes his head, still frowning, and reaches forward to place a hand beside your head.
“‘You know I don’t feel the same way’?” he groans your name to the ceiling before looking back into your eyes, “I cannot believe how royally I screwed all of this up…”
You shake your head in confusion.
“I don’t…”
He leans in, then, presses the smallest of kisses against the side of your mouth.
“Sweetheart, I slept with her to get over you.”
At your shocked face, he sighs again.
“I know that’s a terrible reason, but it's the truth. The entire time I was up there singing, I was thinking of you. Of your voice and your smile and your beautiful mind. Of how if and when we all go our separate ways, you will be who I miss the most. Who I’ll be thinking of for the rest of my life.”
“You’ve- this whole-” You push on his shoulders a bit, but he doesn’t budge.
“This whole time?!” You shove again, but it’s like shoving a brick wall. In fact, it seems to urge him closer, leaning in to press a hesitant kiss to the side of your neck.
“I know,” he whispers and presses kisses beneath your ear when you don’t stop him, “I know, I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”
“I can’t believe you would…” your voice trails off when his arms wrap around your back to pull you closer, still mouthing along your neck and shoulder.
“Honey, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” His voice is still soft, you feel the vibrations of it against your skin, and it sends shivers down your body that you know he can feel in return.
He leans back, then, and waits until your eyes open before continuing.
“She meant nothing to me. I know men say that a lot, but it's true. I lo- well.” he pulls you closer again to bury his head against your neck, this time out of embarrassment. You give a small laugh, and reach up to run a hand through his hair.
“You…?” you’re half teasing him now, but you need to hear him say it.
You feel more than hear him take a deep breath then lean back again to look you in the eyes.
“I love you, Sweetheart.”
You beam.
“I love you too, Eliot.”