This is my first Leverage fic. Settled in some point between The Lonely Hearts Job, The Last Dam Job, and then basically it's from my own although there might be some spoiler form the 5th season.

I want to thank Wakko's minion for the help and for putting up with my endless craziness and listening to my ideas and helping me to deepen them.

I hope you'll like it.

Nate had Sophie. Hardison had Parker. And whom he had? No one. As always. Yeah, he had a lot of one-night stands but they were meaningless for him: one night, one girl. It had been like that for the past ten years. Not that he had really minded too much before, but since he was part of that family, that very crazy, weird and dysfunctional family, all his world was upside down. He had never been the good guy until then. Hell, his head had price in three countries now, he was wanted dead or alive in four more (he shouldn't have done that job in Somalia two weeks ago) and there was that fatwa issue going on too!

He opened the door to his apartment and went to the sofa, where he slumped carelessly, not even bothering to switch the lights open.

He had never cared about love or family when he was with Moreau. Because he didn't needed it. He had everything a guy could want: a job he liked, money and girls. And a boss that let him do whatever he wanted, not like Chapman, to whom Moreau seemed to have a leash on, meaning that Damien didn't trust him at all. Moreau had never put a leash on him, never questioned his methods, because he was the best man he got.

And now… Now he was sending flowers anonymously to Parker and Sophie to help Hardison and Nate to step up his love game. This wasn't him by any means.

He missed the old days; the days where he wouldn't need anyone, the days he worked alone or in a team he would never see again and yet, he found himself not wanting to get away from his new family.

As days went by, he started thinking more and more and more to the point he was almost sulking. And that wasn't something his teammates would miss.

"What do you think is wrong with Eliot?" Sophie asked.

"Eliot is sick?" Parker asked as she ate her Cheerio cereals.

"No Parker…" The dark haired woman replied as she sat down next to Nate. "He is been quiet."

"Eliot is always quiet." The older male objected.

"Ok, yes, he is quiet. But he is been quieter than usual." She said.

"I must agree with that." Hardison said without taking off his eyes from the screen since he was playing World of Warcraft. "And he barely comes here. Only if it's for a job, and he used to spend a lot time here."

"Why don't we go visit him, then?" Parked asked, looking at everyone with a smile.

"Because he would punch us." Hardison said.

"Actually, he would punch you. Besides, does anyone know where his house is?" Nate asked as his hand rested on Sophie's thigh.

And it was then that they realised that they had no idea where was Eliot's house. As a matter of fact, they didn't know much about him: that he was from the South, that he was an excellent cook and singer, that he liked horses, knew how to kill and that he had been in the army and that he had worked for Moreau.

"I could locate him with the GPS of his phone." The black male said as he stopped playing to do so. "It's off." He sighed.

"And you won't find his house by putting his name on the navigator or whatever you use." Nate said.

"Why not?" The thief asked.

"Parker, in many black lists, Eliot Spencer is probably one of the first names you would find. Would you buy a house using your real name knowing that a lot of people want your head?" Sophie asked.

"Humm…" She said and Alec chuckled.

"The answer is no, babe."

At that, the door opened and the object of their chatting crossed the door and stopped short when four pair of eyes settled on him. "What?" He said with his usual gruffy tone.

"Nothing man." Hardison said waving him off and Eliot growled at him.

"Any job?" The just arrived man asked, looking at the brains of the team.

"Not yet. W-where are you going? You just got here." Ford said, arching an eyebrow: Eliot was always hard to read, but it was getting harder everyday that went by.

"My apartment." He growled and then closed the door again, only to have Parker open it again.

"Eliot! Can I…?" She started to say.

"No."

The blond came back in and sat down on the sofa, furrowing. "Parker, you know how Eliot is, just… let him be." Sophie said, patting her knee.

And that behaviour continued unless they were in exciting cons: his mood would lift up; he would be in his usual bickering with Hardison… Just like he used to be.

And then, one day, they were against Dubenich. Again.

"Where is Eliot?" Nate asked when he realised that the hitter was nowhere to be found.

"Probably in his way back from Kiev, Ukraine." Hardison replied.

"Ukraine? And what is he doing there? He found someone to recruit? An old friend?" Sophie asked.

"Actually… It's Quinn. You know, the guy who tried to kill Eliot during the First David Con. Remember?" Hardison asked.

"He is bringing someone who tried to kill him? And then you say I'm the crazy one." Parker huffed.

"Well, if Eliot trusts him, we'll trust him too." Nate said.

One day after, they were reunited in the Bat cave as the two geeks named it. Eliot could feel many eyes on him and although he didn't care, it was a bit annoying.

"What the hell is this?" Quinn asked him when they were hanging the 'Old Nate' portrait.

"Don't ask." He replied, smirking and Quinn smiled right back at him, as if they had never tried to kill each other. And not just once.

"So, how is it being part of the good guys?" Quinn asked, sitting on the stairs next to Elliot.

"Strange. But you get you used to it. Besides, I still do my fair share of jobs where I'm still the bad guy." He smirked and the younger hitter nodded.

"So the Legend hasn't died." The blond male said and Eliot chuckled as he shook his head.

"Legend?" Sophie said from behind them. "Who is the Legend?"

"Eliot." Quinn said matter-of-factly. "Wait. You don't know?"

"Know what?" The British sat one step behind them, interested and Eliot grumbled something under his breath.

"Eliot is The Legend in the hitter world. I mean, every single one of us wants to be like him. I'm going to be the envy of every single hitter I know when I say that I got to work with you." Right at that moment, Quinn looked like a child with a new toy for Christmas.

"A legend." Sophie repeated, shocked. Yes, she knew that Eliot was extremely good at his job, but, that good? Nope, she always thought there was someone way better than their hitter.

"Yeah. He knows how to do everything. And he's the one that has the highest prices for his head. At least nowadays." He explained her, smiling a bit. "Let's put an example: Parker is known for being one of the best thieves in the world, right?"

"Right."

"Then Eliot is our Parker." He concluded and Spencer huffed. "A bit saner, I'd say."

"I see. So we had the Legend working with us for three years and we didn't know about it. Just wrong." She patted Eliot's shoulder before she went with Nate.

And later, while he was sitting next to Eliot fucking Spencer he could understand why he didn't want to walk away: they really were a family and were decided to protect each other, to die for each other. Nate and Sophie were Mom and Dad, Eliot the eldest son, and Parker and Hardison the babies.

He watched Spencer: strong arms crossed over his chest, legs slightly parted, his hair lying around his face… The man was just sexy as hell.

He heard Chaos say something and the Hardison and then Chaos… How did Eliot listen to that every fucking day?

"Can I hit him?" He asked, staring at the hackers.

"Which one?"

"Either one."

He saw how Eliot turned to Sophie and said: "See? It's not just me."

After getting the details of the plan, the hitters and the hackers went on their missions, and by the time they came back (Quinn and Chaos completely soaked) the blond was about to kill the hacker.

"Hey, calm down, we still need him." The Southerner said, placing a hand in his shoulder and pressing slightly, smiling softly, when he saw Quinn lifting his fist to hit Chaos. "Wanna go grab a beer?"

Quinn could only nod, dumbstruck: Eliot Spencer just asked him to go have a drink with him. Well, that was highly unexpected, truth to be told.

As they left the cave, he saw Sophie staring at the both of them, as if she was trying to read passed them.

He didn't see her smile, though.

"Where are we going?" He asked as he climbed in Eliot's car.

"A bar near my house." The older man replied as he reeved the car a couple of times before speeding off. "Good beer, good music... but the best of it? Fights. Most of them are from the army, and not only the U.S army. Is a good way to keep in shape since they don't really like hitters." He winked at him and Quinn could feel his cheeks heating up a little.

"They know about your job?"

"Well, most of them have seen me in their camp doing not-so-legal-things."

"Such as?"

"Such as killing some of their captains." He replied, smirking.

"I thought you were a patriot." Quinn pointed out.

"And I am. That's why I killed the people who were putting our country in danger. Although they don't see it like that."

When they reached the bar, everyone turned around to see who was stepping in but they didn't mind that it was Spencer and went back to their previous actions, although there were some who growled at him, but when they saw the other hitter, more than one stood up.

"A businessman?" The bartender said to Eliot. "You brought here a business man? You know the folks around here don't like suit-up man very much."

"I'm not exactly a businessman." Quinn replied as he sat down too.

"Then what's up with the suit?" He asked and Eliot chuckled besides him.

"Not all the hitters dress like him." The blond said pointing to Spencer.

"He's a hitter?"

"He is a hitter." The one with blue eyes replied, taking a sip of his bottle.

"He doesn't look like one. Are you working together?"

"You could say that, yeah." Quinn said, nodding. "What's good around here?" He asked to his rival-friend.

"Beer." Eliot replied lifting his own.

"He has never tried anything else." The bartender said. "I'm Rick."

"Quinn." They shook hands. "So, why everyone in here are ex-marines, ex-soldiers…?" He asked Eliot and the bartender.

"Most of them live around here. And it's a good way to share old stories." The older hitter said, turning his chair around a bit so he was facing the blond.

"Have you ever shared yours?"

"With them? Yeah right. See the guys in the west corner? I killed their Captain. Captains, actually. Not a good story to tell." He smirked and looked at him in the eye. "What about you? Do you want to share yours with them?"

"Not really. I don't think the guys next to the door would appreciate to meet the guy who killed their mother." He said pointing at two males from Northern Africa.

"I see. Libya?"

"Tunisia." Quinn said, smiling. "Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." He quickly said, drawing a line.

"Shoot."

Quinn stared at him, admiring the bright blue eyes. The wyes where he had seen hurt, hate and pain and that now were relaxed and looking at him playfully. "What happened in Myanmar?"

And the eyes changed to something he couldn't define.

Well, that's all for now. I'm sorry for the mistakes, English is not my mother tongue.

Reviews are really appreciated.