Naming the Past

by Electric Light Shadow Boxer

Thirteenth in the Unnamed Series. Takes place after the Order 23 Job. Nate has had it with Eliot’s reckless behavior and his reluctance to share what’s troubling him. Eliot is going to have to give up the past or risk losing their future.

TITLE: Naming the Past

AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer

RATING: NC17

CATEGORY: Slash

PAIRING: Nate/Eliot

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended. This little piece of insanity was written for fun, not profit. I make no money. Literally.

SUMMARY: Thirteenth in the Unnamed Series. Takes place after the Order 23 Job. Nate has had it with Eliot's reckless behavior and his reluctance to share what's troubling him. Eliot is going to have to give up the past or risk losing their future.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story depicts grown adult males in a consensual, loving, relationship. If that bothers you, don't read.

It was late when Nate let himself back into the apartment, but despite the late hour he was still going strong. He was almost euphoric in the aftermath of taking down Eddie Maranjian. He hadn't felt this in control and on top of things in a long time.

With the tension between him and Eliot over the last month there hadn't been much to be happy about, but something about this job had stirred his blood. Now, he was going to kick everybody else out of the apartment, get Eliot alone, maybe make him wear the scrubs . . .

Maybe he'd actually be able to wear the other man out tonight, wear him down enough so he would sleep for a change.

Ever since they'd gotten back from Nebraska, over a month ago now, Eliot had all but stopped sleeping. He'd dropped from ninety minutes a day to sixty and then from sixty to catnaps. And when he did sleep, there were nightmares. They were never like the one he'd had in the hotel room in Nebraska, but Nate could tell. There was the little gasp as he'd come awake, the glare if Nathan so much as dared look at him when he climbed out of bed, the thud of Eliot's fists on the punching bag down stairs. It was going to have to end soon. Eliot was a strong man, but no one was that strong.

He shook the thoughts out of his head and came on into the apartment. He spotted Hardison digging through one of the kitchen drawers. The young hacker looked to be settling in to relax, his computer set up on the coffee table.

Hardison looked up as Nate came in the apartment and nodded his head at him. "Hey, man, I'm glad you're here." He stuffed a gummy frog in his mouth.

Nathan looked around his otherwise empty apartment. "Where is everybody?"

Hardison sat down at his computer and brought an image on the plasma screens. "Sophie had a thing with the boyfriend, Parker is out doing . . . Parker type things, and when Eliot left the hospital he said he had some things to do."

Nathan frowned. "He's not back yet?"

Hardison shook his head and pointed at the plasma screens. "He said he had something he had to do. I was checking out the video cameras because he was just acting hinky on this job."

Nathan frowned, staring at the other man. "Yeah, the uh, noise over the comms. That what you're talking about?"

"The man kept disappearing on me. How was I supposed to know he'd taken his comm out." He huffed. "If I hadn't gotten on the hospital P.A. system he would've been toast from that fake marshal."

Nate ran a hand over his face, gritting his teeth and trying not to growl. He went to the kitchen and stared at the empty coffee pot before clenching his fists and starting back to the living room. "What happened, Hardison? I was out of the loop on this one and I want to know what went down."

Hardison sighed and sat back in the chair, trying to figure out exactly how he'd ended up on the wrong end of a Nate Ford third degree. "Look, okay, all I know is that he had his comm out and I had to use the P.A. system to reach him. He fought the guy in the morgue and won. That's all I know." He bit his bottom lip and stared at Nathan. "So, are you and Eliot having a lover's spat or something? Because, seriously I don't want in the middle of that. The man is angry enough without throwing in the frustration of not getting any."

Nate glared at the hacker, letting him know he needed to shut up. He sat down on the couch and looked at the screens, pointing at the picture of a stairwell. "This from the hospital?"

Hardison nodded. "Yeah, when he took out his comm and I couldn't find him anywhere I decided to see what he was up to." He looked at Nate. "It's not good."

Nate sat forward, staring at the screens. "Just show me the video, Hardison."

Hardison raised his eyebrows and started the video.

Nathan watched as Eliot escorted a man into the stairwell while wearing his police uniform. "There's no sound on this?"

"Nah, man, this stuff is strictly low tech. You're lucky they even had a camera in the stairwell."

Nathan watched as Eliot confronted the larger man, his face clearly caught on camera. He felt his temper flare, felt his teeth grind together. What the hell had Eliot been doing? He could get them all caught, blow their cover. If someone started checking into Eddie Maranjian's story the tape would be uncovered.

He watched as Eliot took the man and held him over the rail and his anger turned to fear. What the hell was he doing? Nate actually stood from the couch, heart clutched tight as he waited for Eliot to drop the man. Eliot was usually pretty clear headed, but lately his anger had been worse and Nathan didn't know quite what to expect from him.

When Eliot set the man back on the ground Nathan sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. A drink. He wanted a damn drink. He looked back up at the screens in time to see Eliot walk out of the stairwell.

Hardison clicked a few buttons on his laptop and the screens went dark. Nate walked toward the kitchen and then came back to stand behind the couch. "Is that all? Anything else I need to know?"

Hardison ran his hand over the back of his neck and grimaced. "Yeah, well, when I finally found him, he was talking to this little boy. He'd been all beat up." He gestured to his own body and face. "When I came up behind them and called Eliot's name they both jumped like they'd been set on fire."

Nathan pressed his lips together in a fine line and squeezed the back of the sofa. "Hardison, find out who that man is."

He briefly thought about calling Eliot, finding out how much trouble he was getting into, but decided it would be better to just wait. If he called him now he'd just get into an argument with him and that wouldn't further his cause.

Nate was scared and angry, and this had to stop.

* * *

The full bottle was sitting on the coffee table, cap still on. He'd been sitting there, staring at it for over an hour.

After Hardison had left to finish running a back up check on the unknown man, he'd gone down to the bar and bought it. The worry over Eliot was eating away at the tremulous peace he'd found. As his tension level increased so did his need for the drink. The only thing that kept him from opening the bottle and taking a few shots was that he wanted to be sober when Eliot finally made it home.

They were going to talk, and if they didn't . . . then he was going to need this damn bottle. He was so focused on the green of the bottle, the cream label and red cap that, despite having been waiting for it, he didn't hear the door open, or anybody walk into the room.

Eliot came in and shut the door behind him. God he was tired. This had to have been one of the longest days on the job. The danger had been minimal, but the emotions had been running high and he just wanted to hold Nate and pretend to sleep.

He saw Nate sitting on the living room sofa and started forward, only to stop cold. The anger had been closer to the surface than usual lately and now it swirled up, clouding his vision, and he found himself thundering forward, grabbing the bottle from the table. "Seriously? All this time, everything that's going on and you're sitting here thinking about crawling back down into the bottle!"

Nathan jerked when Eliot grabbed his bottle. He stood and grabbed for the whisky, an instinctual reaction, but Eliot jerked it out of his reach. Nate pressed his lips together, but then backed off, hands in the air. "You know what? You're absolutely right. With everything that's been going on I don't need to be thinking about drinking. I need to be sober so I can try and piece you the hell back together when you finally go flying in a million directions!"

Eliot paused for a minute, the change of direction catching him off guard. "What? What are you talking about?"

Nate rubbed a hand over his forehead and shook his head. "What am I talking about? I'm talking about the nightmares, the not sleeping. I'm talking about you going off on your own during a job and dangling some guy over a rail while being caught on camera, Eliot!" He stopped and swallowed, seeing his lover's face close off. He stepped forward and lowered his voice. "I'm talking about a little boy with bruises, and a grown man who startles when approached suddenly."

Eliot clenched his fist around the bottle and shook his head, walking toward the kitchen. He couldn't deal with Nate's pushing tonight, not when everything was so close to the surface. "You know what? I don't need this, Nate." He set the bottle down on the counter and started toward the stairs. "You want to get drunk? Have at it. I'm going to take a shower."

Nathan watched as Eliot climbed the stairs before closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, fist tightening. He didn't know how to get through to him. He didn't understand what Eliot was so frightened of that he wouldn't tell him. He knew the man was secretive, had been since day one, doling out a tiny piece of himself here and there. Whatever the big bad secret was, it was going to have to come out before it swallowed Eliot whole.

He heard the pipes groan when Eliot turned on the water upstairs. He didn't want to fight. He missed Eliot, missed having him close, not just physically present, but mentally focused on them, not lost a thousand miles and however many years away in his head.

He started up the stairs, pausing in the bedroom to shed his clothes, tossing them on a chair, and made his way into the bathroom.

Eliot jumped when the shower curtain was pulled back and Nate climbed in. He turned around, frowning. "Nate . . . this shower is too small for this."

Nathan shook his head, refusing to let Eliot push him away again. He grabbed the soap from Eliot's hands and motioned for him to turn around. Eliot glared at him a moment but then acquiesced. Nate soaped up the washcloth and then started on Eliot's shoulders, pushing his hair to one side to expose his neck. Eliot's neck and shoulders were almost corded with the tension thrumming through him. He rubbed the cloth across Eliot's broad shoulders, using it to massage at the tightly knotted muscles across the man's back.

Eliot let his head fall forward, trying to let the hot water and Nathan's ministrations loosen the tension he was carrying. It'd been so long since they'd done this. He'd missed it so much. He leaned forward slightly to give him better access as Nathan moved down his back, rubbing in slow circles and kneading the muscles. He groaned as Nate moved down to his ass, losing the washcloth in favor of his hands. Nate's hands cupped the round globes of his ass and Eliot hissed. "Nate . . ."

Nathan stepped forward and laid kisses along Eliot's shoulders, nipping lightly at his warm, soap scented, skin. He used his hand to pry Eliot open, digits searching for that tight ring of muscle. His stomach clenched when the other man gasped, bucking back onto his fingers. He swallowed at Eliot's tight heat and gravel rough moan. He wrapped his other arm around Eliot's midsection and pulled him close, his arm trapped between them. "I miss you."

Eliot turned his head, reaching back to kiss Nate as he worked him with his fingers. He gasped as Nate found that spot and worked his finger over it cruelly. "I'm right here, Nate. I'm right here." It was groaned out between clenched teeth, bands of gut clenching pleasuring streaking from ass to cock.

Nathan added another finger and put his head down on Eliot's shoulder, working for control. He took short panting breaths, trying to stay on task while his lover clenched down around his hand. "Physically, yeah . . ." He swallowed and pushed in further, listening to Eliot gasp, feeling his stomach muscles quiver. "Physically you're here, Eliot. But your mind is a million miles away. I want you back."

Eliot turned on him, surprising him, and picked Nate up, hands under his hips, fitting himself between the other man's legs, muscles straining, and pinned him to the wall. He kissed him deeply, tongue thrusting into the warmth of his mouth. He pinned Nate's body with his own and used one hand to grab up his hair conditioner. He squirted some over his hand, rubbing his fingers together to smear the conditioner over them liberally. "I'm right here, Nate. Right here." He pushed a finger into Nathan's heat and grinned as Nate moaned and threw his head back against the shower wall.

Nate clenched his legs around Eliot's waist, rubbing his erection against his stomach, trying to find friction on his wet skin. "Not what I meant." He gasped.

Eliot worked him open quickly, wanting this to be down and dirty, wanting to work out his frustration and helplessness on his lover's body, knowing Nathan would relish it, would welcome it. Eliot pulled out his fingers and lubed himself up. He got a better grasp on Nathan's ass, pressing his index fingers against his entrance, grinning as the other man tightened his legs around his hips, rocking so his erection rubbed against his stomach.

He grabbed himself and positioned himself at Nate's opening before pushing in, thrusting in on one fast stroke instead of letting the other man sink slowly down onto his cock. Eliot kissed Nate, tongue thrusting in, demanding his full attention, trying to crawl in from both ends. He braced his legs wider apart and started moving his hips back and forth, groaning as Nathan closed down around him tight and hot, his muscles clenching around him, tightening in spasm on a rhythm that set his teeth on edge. "Fuck, Nate. How the hell do you stay so damn tight?"

Nate groaned against Eliot's lips, hands gripping his shoulders as he rode the man. "Just . . ." He gasped as Eliot rotated his hips and thrust inside, opening him wider, sinking deeper with the plunge. "Just lucky, I guess." He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to that of the other man, trying not to cry out at the intensity with which his lover pounded into him. He was beyond full, and the friction so deep inside him was riding that knife's edge between pleasure and pain.

Eliot grinned and slammed him back against the wall before he started pumping in harder, grunting at the effort. He pressed his lips to Nate's, eyes closed, sharing each other's panted breaths as they ground together.

A whine started low in Nathan's throat, working itself up in pitch as his stomach started quivering, muscles straining, balls drawing up. "Eliot . . ." He swallowed and bit down on the other man's shoulder, nails digging in.

Eliot shifted angles, repositioning his grip on Nathan, muscles in his arms and shoulders straining at taking both their weight. "Come for me, darlin'. Show me you know I'm here and come for me, baby." Nathan started gasping, keening, as he clenched down around his cock, long thick strands of cum, hot and rich with Nathan's scent shot against his stomach and chest. He lost his rhythm, the other man's cries spurring him on, and he started slamming into Nathan, knocking him against the wall and thrusting with bruising force.

Nathan raked his nails down Eliot's chest, spreading his hands in his own cum and digging his fingers into his lover as Eliot let loose and pounded into him, used his body as an outlet for his frustration and rage. He wasn't sure what he liked best, the slow, tender lovemaking, or the rough and desperate coupling that sometimes took place between them.

Eliot shouted and dove deep into Nate's ass, trying to get as far in as possible as he shot his seed into his lover, driving in again and again as Nathan clenched down around him, groaning into his mouth.

Eliot pressed himself against Nathan, head buried against the man's chest, just clutching him as he turned flaccid and slipped from his lover. They were both breathing hard and Eliot let Nate slip slowly down his body, still clutching onto him like a lifeline.

Eliot kept Nathan clutched to him, the pain and desperation he was feeling pouring out of him, catching him by surprise. He buried his face into Nathan's shoulder and tried to hide the fact that the wetness on his face was tears instead of shower water.

Nate wrapped his arms around Eliot, burying the fingers of one hand into his hair and laying a gentle kiss against the side of his head. He closed his eyes and squeezed, trying to let Eliot know that he was right here, that he was strong and capable of helping him, of letting him lean on him. He felt the tears on his shoulder and thought he'd gladly shoot whoever had hurt Eliot enough that he felt he had to keep this all bottled up inside.

The water turned cold and Eliot shifted, releasing Nathan and turning away so he wouldn't see his tear stained face. He thrust his hands into the cold water and scrubbed his face. "After that I don't think we need a cold shower. Come on, let's get cleaned up." He washed himself off and turned to Nathan, watching him grimace as he cleaned up. Eliot felt his stomach drop as he saw the blood. "I hurt you."

Nate looked up at Eliot's face and shook his head. "No. It's fine, Eliot. It's not as bad as it looks."

Eliot felt his heart fluttering in his chest, felt like he was going to be sick. "Fuck."

Nate saw the color drain from Eliot's face and he grabbed him, easing him down on the edge of the tub and turning the water off. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Eliot's shoulders. "Eliot, you're scaring me." He'd never seen the other man so shaken. Eliot was usually the unflappable one, the one that kept it together while everything else was falling apart. And over something so minor as a little blood.

Eliot ran his hands through his hair and jerked on the tangles on the ends, still feeling queasy. "I can't believe I did that to you. I'm sorry. Nate. . . I would never."

Nathan knelt down in front of Eliot and took his hands. "Eliot, you didn't! I'm fine. It's not like there's never been a little blood before. Why are you letting this get to you?"

Eliot looked down at him and stood, pulling him up with him. "This wasn't a little Nate. We've never . . . there has never been that much blood." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Come on, Nate, let's get you on the bed. Let me check you."

Nathan pulled away, uncomfortable. "What? No. Eliot, I'm fine."

Eliot grabbed Nate and pulled him into the bedroom. "If you're fine then you won't mind me checking you. Lie down."

Nate pulled away again, awkward and unsure. He didn't understand why this was such a big deal to him. "Eliot . . . this isn't necessary."

Eliot ran his hands over his face. "Yes. Yes it is. Why are you fighting me on this? You wouldn't be fighting me if there wasn't something wrong."

Nathan fidgeted, still wet and kind of cold. "Because it's awkward, Eliot! I don't want you to check me! You're my lover, not my doctor."

Eliot stepped forward, swallowing and grabbed Nate's hands trying to convey how important this was. "Nate, I've seen you every way imaginable. Please, for me, let me make sure that I didn't hurt you." He swallowed down his revulsion at the thought that he could do something like that to Nathan.

Nathan stared at him, suddenly painting ugly bruises on his face, like he must have had as a child, wondering what was driving this fear of having hurt him during sex. He started adding up all the little clues and felt himself start to feel queasy.

Nathan bit his lip, swallowing, still uncomfortable, but seeing an opportunity. There was no way that he was going to deny Eliot, not with what he suspected, but maybe he could use the situation to his advantage. "Okay, fine. I let you do this, and then you will talk to me." He clutched at the other man as he tried to pull away. "Eliot, please. You're worried about me, but I'm worried about you. I can't have this one way street between us in this relationship."

Eliot looked away and swallowed, battling with the conflicting emotions inside. He needed to check Nathan, but he was terrified of his lover finding out about his past, about how it would change how he looked at him. He took a deep breath, knowing that he wasn't going to win this one. He searched Nathan's face, looking for some hint that this would be okay, that he would be able to deal with the ugly truth. "Fine. We'll talk." He motioned to the bed.

Nathan watched him a moment before nodding his head and lying down on his side, knees tucked into his chest. He could hear Eliot rummaging in the closet behind him and knew that he was getting out his first responder bag. He swallowed and closed his eyes. He tensed as he felt Eliot start to examine him. It hurt, but it wasn't really bad. It was just . . . weird without the heat of emotion to back it up. Eliot's fingers weren't those of his lover, but quick and efficient, the fingers of a trained medical professional.

Eliot pulled back after checking and applying some medicated ointment to the damage, listening as he heard Nate hiss. He stripped the glove off he'd put on his hand. "It's not too bad. A decent sized tear, but superficial." He climbed up on the bed and took Nathan into his arms, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get so rough with you."

Nathan wrapped himself up in his lover and burrowed his face into his chest. "It wasn't like I was complaining, Eliot. Trust me." He sat up and pulled away, pulling back the covers. "Come on, let's get warm."

He arranged them in bed, looking into Eliot's eyes. "Talk to me, Eliot. Tell me what's happening. I know some of it, I know it has to do with Shannon, I know it has to do with your past. Please, trust me enough to talk to me."

Eliot closed his eyes and turned so that his back was against Nathan's chest, his arms wrapped around him. He couldn't look at him while he talked about this. He was quiet a while, trying to determine where he wanted to start. He finally settled on a memory, an easier place to start, something that had good feelings associated with it.

"I must've been three or four when Shannon started teaching me to cook. Michael . . ." He paused, pushing the words through his lips with some effort. "My father, didn't cook. Sometimes the ladies at his church would bring stuff over, but usually it was up to Shannon to fix the meals." He was quiet a long time. "She had to watch after April and I as well, so it wasn't easy."

Nathan rubbed a hand over Eliot's chest, laying a kiss against the nape of his neck. "Sounds like she had a hard life. She was what when you were four, eight?"

Eliot took a deep breath in through his nose and nodded. "Yeah, she started teaching me to cook to keep me outta trouble while she was in the kitchen."

Nate pressed his face into Eliot's back, breath ghosting gently across his warming skin. "And you'd actually started cooking by age four?"

A small smile crooked Eliot's lips and he pushed back against Nathan's chest, seeking the security of the man behind him. "Nah, more like making a mess. Shannon would give me flour on a pan and I'd play in it."

Nathan felt the smile stretch across his face, couldn't help the chuff of laughter and buried his nose into Eliot's back, squeezing him. He could just imagine Eliot sitting in the floor, flour dotting his face and hair. "I bet you were adorable." He felt Eliot shrug and knew that he was blushing. Nate turned serious, backtracking over the conversation in his mind. "You mentioned your dad's church. He was a religious man?"

Eliot was quiet while he chewed on his lips. He swallowed down the anger and hate that tried to flood through him. "Michael was a preacher. Southern Baptist." He spit the words out like they were poison. "He wasn't a good man, Nate. He was a drunk, and an abusive bastard."

Nathan sighed and curled into him tighter. He'd suspected something of the sort. You didn't end up doing what Eliot did if you had a healthy home life. In fact, everyone in the team had to have had dysfunctional backgrounds. "I'm sorry, Eliot."

Eliot shrugged, trying to deny that he needed the comfort. "It happens."

They were quiet for a while, Eliot lost in his thoughts and Nate trying to be patient and ground him in the here and now, rubbing his hand in gentle circles on the other man's stomach. After a while he rubbed his chin against Eliot's shoulder. "Come on, Eliot. Talk to me."

Eliot sighed and closed his eyes, fighting the images that came with the memories. He clutched Nathan's arms tighter around him and took a deep breath. "I came home from school one day unexpectedly." He pulled away just a little and Nathan let him, giving him space. "I had a broken collarbone and it was hurting so I just decided to walk home."

Nate longed to reach out to him, to hold him and comfort him. Instead he grasped his pillow and waited.

"I walked in . . ." He ground his teeth together and shook his head. "I walked in and he had her on the living room floor. He was raping her." The last came out in a growl.

Nathan closed his eyes and tightened his hands on the pillow, forcing himself not to reach out, knowing that it wouldn't be welcomed. "Eliot . . ." What did you say to something like that? "How old were you?"

Eliot forced his jaw to relax before he gave himself a headache and opened his eyes wide, focusing on the clock on the nightstand. "Fifteen." He shrugged. "I was used to the beatings. I could've taken that. But I never knew he laid a hand on the girls." He swallowed and lost control of the images as they cascaded through his head. "He got off of her and she curled up, hiding. She was so ashamed."

The silence was heavy between them and Eliot worried his bottom lip, a long forgotten habit. He swallowed. "And he came after me, started dragging me upstairs." He laughed. "I was fighting, cussing."

Nate listened as Eliot stopped, just stopped. He couldn't even tell if he was breathing. He reached out and laid a hand against his lover's back. "Eliot, stay with me. Come on. I'm right here. I'm right here and everything's going to be okay."

Eliot turned and looked at Nathan, looked into his eyes. He wanted to see it happen. He didn't want to look at him and realize that the change had already taken place. He wanted to see it when it happened. "When we got to the top of the stairs . . ." He swallowed. "I landed a blow and I don't know if he wasn't on the step good or what, but he went backwards." He licked his lips and looked at Nathan, looking for signs of revulsion there. "He broke his neck on the way down. I killed my own father." He smiled. "And I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry at all."

Nathan could see the tension thrumming through his lover and gathered him in his arms, placing his forehead against Eliot's, watching the man's eyes for any sign of tears. But there were none. Eliot's face was dry, marked only by fear. Nate licked his lips and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss. "I'm sorry, Eliot. I'm so sorry."

Eliot closed his eyes and buried his nose in Nathan's skin. "I couldn't stand the way Shannon looked at me after that. I thought she was angry at me for killing him. I thought she blamed me for what happened so I left." He shrugged and swallowed. "Headed up to Kentucky."

Nathan ran his hand through Eliot's hair, tangling his fingers as he massaged his neck. "I thought you were from Kentucky."

Eliot sighed and pulled back a little. "No. Tennessee." He sat up and pushed himself against the headboard. "I got a job working for Willie, lied about my age." He shrugged and smiled a little bitterly. "Joined the army when I was seventeen. You know the rest."

Nate laid his head in the other man's lap, not wanting to lose the closeness of his lover. He wrapped one arm behind Eliot's hips and the other over his thighs, clutching him, knowing they were getting to the heart of what had been bothering Eliot. "When did Shannon kill herself?"

Eliot ran his hand through Nate's hair, using his thumb to smooth out the worry lines in the other man's brow. "I'd just gotten out of the army when I got the news." He put his head against the wall, staring off into the middle distance. "I shouldn't have left her. If I'd stayed . . ." He shrugged. "Maybe I could've convinced her to live."

Nate closed his eyes, pressing his face into Eliot's thigh. "Eliot . . . when someone feels like that . . ." He stopped and swallowed, remembering his own time in that dark pit. "Sometimes, when you're in that place, Eliot, nothing is enough."

Eliot looked down at Nate and scooted down in the bed, clutching his lover's body to him. "I know." He was quiet a while, running his hand up and down Nate's back. "I'm so thankful . . ." He swallowed and smiled. "I'm so thankful I didn't lose you."

Nathan clutched him, trying to soothe him, wanting to promise him that he'd never have to face that again. But he knew that their relationship couldn't stand false promises, and that wasn't something he could guarantee.

Eliot bit his lip. "It's been a while since I took a beating like the one I took in Nebraska. I guess it knocked some memories loose." He sighed. "And then there was this kid today . . . it got to me."

Nate looked up at Eliot, hand reaching up cup his jaw. "Then talk to me about it."

* * *

Nate woke the next morning to the drapes pulled back and sun shining through windows. He groaned and buried his head in the pillow. He reached over for Eliot and frowned when he found his side of the bed cold. He sat up and pushed the covers off, making his way into the bathroom to relieve himself.

When he came back into the bedroom, he pulled on a tee shirt and a pair of sweat pants and headed downstairs. He smiled on the way down, listening to Eliot's warm southern drawl as he sang along with the radio and banged around in the kitchen. It'd been a long time since he'd heard the man sing. It was good to hear again, lightened his heart.

Eliot turned and watched as Nate trudged down the stairs, a smile blossoming on his face. He felt better this morning. Not great, not healed, but better. It was a start. "Hey, darlin'. You sleep well?"

Nate yawned and scratched at his stomach as he came toward the kitchen. "Please, tell me there's coffee."

Eliot chuckled and poured some of the brew into Nate's favorite mug, sitting it on the counter at one of the stools. He watched as Nate sat down and cupped his hands around the warmth of the mug. "How are you feeling?" He flicked his eyes down to Nate's ass, making sure he got the point.

Nate opened his eyes and blinked. "Hmm? Oh, fine, Eliot, really. It's not like we haven't had it rough before." He grinned blowing on his coffee. "As a matter of fact I like it."

Eliot watched him a moment more before the corner of his mouth twitched up and he pointed the spatula at him. "You better watch it, Bubba."

Nathan grinned and watched as Eliot turned back to the pancakes he was making. There was an economy of motion in everything Eliot did, as if every move was practiced and used to make the most of the action with the least amount of energy. He moved the way he fought. It was always a beautiful thing to watch, but in the kitchen, his movements took on a languid relaxation that was absent everywhere else.

After their talk last night he was beginning to understand the importance that cooking had for him. It wasn't just about relieving tension. It was about honoring his past, honoring his sister. He watched as Eliot flipped the pancake and shook his head. "You keep feeding me like this and I'm going to get fat."

Eliot looked over at him and snorted. "You don't have sense enough to get fat. I think your body takes every opportunity it can to rid itself of calories." He shook his head. "It's good thing I can cook. If we had to survive on your meager skills we'd both starve to death."

Nate smiled, glad to hear the easy warmth back in his lover's tone. "I should be asking you how you feel this morning." He looked at Eliot over the rim of his coffee cup. "You look better than you have in a month."

Eliot's face turned serious and he nodded as he slid the pancake out onto a plate with the others. He picked up the two plates and motioned with his head for Nate to follow him over to the table. "Here, sit and feed that skinny ass of yours."

He sat down and poured the syrup on, picking up his fork before he looked at Nate. "I feel some better." He shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Thanks for listening."

Nate looked at him, somewhat incredulous. "Eliot, you don't have to thank me for listening. What we've got here, it's a two way street. You picked up my drunk ass enough, let me take care of you some."

Eliot snorted and took a bite of pancake, chewing and swallowing before he answered. "I've been taking care of myself for a very long time, Nate. I'm not used to having someone there to look after me. It's going to take some gettin' used to."

Nathan watched him and then nodded. "I . . . I get that, Eliot." He watched as Eliot nodded before he looked away and reached for the paper. "And just so you know, anytime you need to work out that frustration of yours with me, I'm always ready." He smiled behind the paper as he heard Eliot choke.

*The End*