TITLE: The Unnamed Truce

AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer

RATING: M

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: The second in the Unnamed series. After The Mile High Job Nathan and Eliot have a late night talk and work out some differences.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place after The Mile High Job and contains slight spoilers. Note that this series follows the order of episodes on the season 1 DVD's instead of actual broadcast order. Contains very mild m/m action. Don't read if you're offended.

There was the sound of a quick indrawn breath, the rustle of sheets, and then the bathroom door closing. Eliot pulled the glasses off his face and closed his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised that Nate was having nightmares. What they'd all been through was enough to rattle anyone. The fact that the last case had involved a company that was fucking people over in a way that was ultimately resulting in the deaths of kids, well, you didn't have to be Nate Ford to realize what that was going to do.

He'd realized the moment he'd heard about this job what it was going to do to Nate. He'd wanted to keep him as far away as possible and he'd been glad when it looked like it was going to be impossible to catch that flight. He thought that just maybe they'd been given a break, that Nate wouldn't have to deal with this job and the inevitable fallout. But then he'd looked him in the eye as Nate had explained that they were going to do this job. They were going to do this job for the exact same reasons that Eliot didn't want to do it. He'd known then, he'd do whatever it took to get Nathan to that flight on time. Because sitting back, doing nothing, that would've been harder on him.

Eliot stayed on the couch listening as water ran though the pipes and continued to let his mind wander over the past month. That was how long they'd been together now. He'd gotten used to Nathan having nightmares, usually when he hadn't drunk enough to hold them at bay. Hell, he'd been known to have his fair share. But he slept so little that dreams didn't really have a chance to creep up on him.

It was a double edged sword really. Since they'd gotten together Nate's drinking had leveled out a little. He still got drunk, and once in a while there'd be the occasional bender but nothing like what was happening before. And as much as Eliot hated it, he knew that he couldn't try and make him quit. Nate had to decide to do that on his own. But, as his drinking had leveled off the nightmares had become more frequent.

He'd also known that when they got home it was going to be one of those nights when Nathan drank himself unconscious. He hadn't been wrong. He frowned and looked at the clock hanging on the wall of his living room. It was four in the morning. No way should Nate be having nightmares yet. Not with the amount of alcohol in his system. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. The alcohol wasn't keeping him down as long.

Eliot heard the door to the bathroom open and tossed his glasses and newspaper down on his coffee table. He didn't bother turning around to look. He could hear Nathan's bare feet padding across the wood flooring. "I've got some coffee made. You want some?"

"Huh? No, no thanks." He plopped down on the sofa next to Eliot and let his head fall back on the cushions.

Eliot turned, openly studying him. He couldn't change how much Nate drank but he felt that their 'arrangement' allowed him to monitor his health. He looked him over. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was going every which way. His eyes were bloodshot and he could smell the mint of toothpaste on his breath. He'd been sick then, violently so if the vaguely green tint to his skin and the bloodshot eyes were any indication. "Was it the same dream?"

Nathan sighed and picked his head up off the back of the couch, running a hand over his face and shaking his head. "No. It was a little different this time."

Eliot reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small squeeze. "Want to talk about it?"

"Uh, no. Not really." He reached up took Eliot's hand, brought it down to his lap and played with his fingers. He looked around Eliot's apartment, so different from his own. His was small and cramped, Eliot's open and spacious. His was cluttered, a mess; Eliot's was neat, sparse. The open plan made it easy to see everywhere in the apartment except the bedroom. The bedroom and bath were separate. Eliot said it was easier to make sure no one was sneaking up on him that way. He looked over at the punching bag, mats, and other assorted equipment that marked Eliot's workout space.

The silence stretched out, comfortable, each lost in their own thought.

Eliot worked his mouth, trying to figure out some way to bring up something he'd been wondering about. "Did you really forget that it was Tuscany?"

Nathan turned and looked at Eliot, confusion in his eyes. "What?"

Eliot sighed and turned sideways on the couch so his knee was brushing Nathan's thigh. Obviously his brain was still a little alcohol addled. "When you and Sophie were arguing. First you tell her a different date than the one she's expecting and then you confuse Paris and Tuscany. What was that about? I know you; you don't forget facts like that."

Nathan grinned and leaned into Eliot's warmth, letting the comfort of the closeness try to chase out the last vestiges of his nightmare. "No. I wanted her to shut up."

Eliot snorted and adjusted himself on the couch so that Nathan was tucked into his side. "You think she picked that suitcase on purpose?"

"Oh, I know she did. When Sophie sees something she wants she goes after it. I couldn't take her clinginess." He stopped a minute, eyes losing their focus. "You know, that was one of the hardest things about this job, being stuck in the confines of the plane with her and no one to act as a buffer."

Eliot frowned, arm stilling where it had been rubbing Nathan's shoulder. He could hear resentment in the other man's voice. Was Nathan mad that Eliot hadn't been there? He sighed and tried to think about how to address the issue. "You know I couldn't be up there with you, right?"

Nathan picked his head up and pulled away, turning to look at Eliot. "What? No, I wasn't expecting you to be there. I'm not mad at you. I'm just tired of dealing with her demands, with her constant hints, and vaguely concealed threats."

Eliot frowned, brows pulling down over his eyes. "Threats? What kind of threats?"

Nathan shook his head. "Maybe threats was too strong a word. She's just always pressuring me and it feels like if I don't give her what she wants she's going to walk away."

Eliot was quiet a little while considering this new wrinkle. He'd known that Nathan was starting to resent Sophie's advances but he hadn't had any idea that it was this bad. The tension between them wasn't going to help Nathan. The last thing he needed was more stress. Nathan was an addict and addicts dealt with stress by going after their substance of choice. Eliot already had concerns about the health of Nathan's liver and stomach. Of course, stress also impacted the stomach. It was no wonder Nathan could hardly eat. It was a wonder he didn't have an ulcer all ready. "You know there's an easy way to solve this problem."

Nathan was already shaking his head. "No. We can't."

Eliot stood up and paced, worry making him agitated. "Yes. Yes, we can."

"I still care about Sophie, Eliot. I may not be in love with her but I don't want to hurt her."

"Don't you think you'll hurt her worse if she finds out further down the line? What will happen then?"

Nathan leaned forward and watched as the other man paced, all muscle and sinew. The movement was economic, no wasted energy. It was dangerous and it made something in his stomach tighten up. Or, maybe that was the alcohol. "This team needs Sophie. She'll leave."

Eliot shook his head, hair settling around him like a mane. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

Eliot walked over to the punching bag and smacked it with his hand. He heard Nathan move behind him and turned to watch him grab the bottle out of the kitchen. Eliot worked his shoulders to try and loosen the tension and sighed. "Is that necessary?"

Nathan ignored him, taking a swig from the bottle. "Why is this so important to you? What would we tell them anyway? Oh, by the way, Eliot and I are in some unnamed arrangement."

Eliot walked over and pushed the bottle down, Nathan resisting. He leaned in and caught the other man's lips between his own, trying to shut out how the taste of bourbon made his stomach flip uneasily. As he continued to work at Nathan's mouth with his tongue and teeth Nathan quit resisting and Eliot pulled the bottle from his grasp. He pulled away, enough to look the other man in the eyes. "I'm just worried about you. I hate that you have to feel this way and I'm worried that it might damage the team in the long run."

Nathan leaned his forehead against Eliot's, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of the other man. He smelled of leather and vanilla. "Just trust me on this, please. We can't let them know."

Eliot reached around Nathan and sat the bottle of Jameson down on the counter, making sure to brush his thigh along Nathan's hardening erection as he did so. "Fine." He leaned in and kissed him again, hands dipping down to cup his ass and pull him tight so he could feel Nathan's straining erection against his belly. "Let's go back to bed." He broke off from Nathan, taking his hand and pulling him along after him, flipping off the lights as he went.

Nathan followed along behind, a small smile on his face. "Oh, and by the way, that thing you just did back there with the kiss and the bourbon? That was dirty pool."

*The End*