A/N: Set back in the early Leverage era, before they'd commandeered Nate's apartment as their base of operations.
Happy birthday, Vickie! Sorry I can't actually give you the Leverage crew for your birthday, but I don't actually own them, so we do have to give them back when we're done and can't make any profit off of this. Sorry.
Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. Or we can blame my spellchecker. Yeah, let's go with that.
The offices were as quiet as they had ever been, but that was just fine with Eliot. It wasn't like he was particularly looking for conversation. All he needed to do was pick up the new earbud that Hardison had told him was waiting there. Apparently, the hacker had created an even newer version of his newfangled tech, and Hardison wanted everyone to get theirs as soon as possible in case there was an emergency. Eliot honestly couldn't have cared less about technological updates, as long as his earbud worked. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, and all that. Hardison, however, was not convinced that was the wisest course of action, and Eliot had finally agreed out of a desire to get the hacker to quit texting and calling him every two minutes. At least then he could watch the game in peace.
As the door swung shut behind him, Eliot reached to turn on the lights, then froze in his tracks.
Something wasn't right.
He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but his sixth sense was prickling. His "Spidey sense" or whatever Hardison called it. Eliot preferred to call it instinct honed over years of experience. If he wasn't on his game, he could very easily lose his life. His survival relied on his ability to assess a situation subconsciously and then follow his gut feeling.
And right now, his instinct was telling him there was someone else in the building.
Eliot tensed, his hand hovering inches from the light switch. Slowly, he lowered his arm and clenched his fists. He stayed still, listening intently.
He'd come in the back door, as he sometimes did, preferring to mix up his routine in case anyone was watching him. Now that the Leverage team was working together, he'd tried convincing the others that this was the safest and smartest approach to anything they did. Don't fall into one single routine. As soon as you do, you're setting yourself up for somebody to track your movements, and that's just asking for trouble.
Sophie had seemed to catch on quickly, and Parker already never went the same way twice in a row—and Eliot was fairly certain no one would be trailing her through air vents. Nate hadn't seemed as enthusiastic about the whole thing, but at least their leader had agreed to pay more attention, however reluctantly. Hardison, on the other hand, didn't quite seem to grasp the importance of what the hitter was trying to convey. It had been a source of contention between the two, but Eliot had finally given up his attempts to convince the hacker, besides throwing in the odd comment here and there.
A shuffling sound from ahead and to his right brought Eliot's attention back to the present situation. The rooms were completely dark, and Eliot's eyes were still trying to adjust to the lack of light compared to the hallway outside. Even as he blinked into the dim interior, his ears were straining for an indication of who or what was inside. There had been that one time a bird had gotten inside, but Eliot was certain that this was not the second occurrence of such an intruder.
No, this sounded much more human.
The idea that anyone would dare intrude into his team's space kindled an anger inside of Eliot. He didn't know what this intruder's intention was, but there was no way he was going to let the others get hurt because some idiot had broken in looking for trouble.
Leaving the lights off, Eliot slowly and quietly padded forward. He kept to the side of the room, his right shoulder nearly brushing the wall as he made his way around the perimeter. If whoever was here had heard the door—and Eliot was fairly certain he'd closed it quietly enough that they wouldn't have—they would expect the newcomer to be taking the usual path of crossing through the center of the room.
Using that—hopeful—element of surprise, Eliot crept toward the rest of the offices. He paused at the doorway, listening for movement around the corner. If he were right, the intruder would be right… about… there!
Eliot sprang around the corner and reached out in one smooth motion, aiming right for where he envisioned the man would be. Sure enough, his left clamped down on a shoulder while his right impacted with the soft stomach of whoever it was.
The man grunted and doubled over with a yelp of surprise—but he wasn't the only one who was surprised. Eliot would have recognized that voice anywhere.
"Hardison!"
"Eliot?" Hardison gasped, sounding pained. "Whatcha doin', man? You tryin'a kill me?"
The lights turned on then, accompanied by Parker's voice. "I told you it was a bad idea," the woman commented. Eliot spun around to see the thief perched on the back of one of the sofas across the room. Raising one corner of her mouth in an impish grin, Parker shrugged. "I told him it was a bad idea," she repeated to Eliot.
"Oh come on," Hardison complained from where he was straightening up, his hand rubbing his stomach. "It wasn't a bad idea until McSlappy here decided to use me for target practice."
This wasn't happening. "Hardison, if you lurk around in the dark, you can't be surprised when somebody calls you on it."
"Calls me on it?" Hardison gulped. "Sure, that's fine—if that's what you'd done! But you tried to kill me! Not cool, Eliot!"
Sighing deeply, Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose. "What are you two doing here in the dark anyway?" Then he paused. "Or do I even want to know?"
In response, Parker grinned widely. "Happy birthday!" she exclaimed.
Eliot blinked, then turned to glare at Hardison.
"What?" the hacker asked hesitantly. He was eyeing Eliot nervously. "I can't celebrate my teammate's birthday? Geez. What is this world coming to?"
"Hardison, there are acceptable ways to celebrate birthdays. Mail a card! Have a cake at the next team meeting! But lurking in a dark office is not one of them!" Eliot looked back to Parker, who was interestedly watching the exchange.
She just shrugged in response to his raised eyebrow. "I told him you'd get all punchy." She grinned. "Are you gonna hit him again?"
"I'm not gonna—" Eliot sighed yet again. "I swear, you two…" Instead of finishing his sentence, he turned on his heel. Then a thought occurred to him. He paused and turned back. "There is no new earbud, is there?"
Hardison's guilty expression was all the confirmation he needed. "…Surprise?" the hacker tried.
"For the love of—Hardison, you need to learn how to throw a surprise party the right way," Eliot growled. This was ridiculous. He turned to leave again, but this time was interrupted by the door swinging open and their other team members entering.
Nate was trailing behind Sophie, looking for all the world like the woman had dragged him in with her, which was most likely exactly what had happened. For her part, Sophie was nearly bouncing on her toes as she walked in with a large white bakery box in her hands. "I'm sorry! We didn't mean to be late, but there was traffic and…"
Both paused when they caught sight of the looks on Eliot and Hardison's faces.
"Oh dear, what happened?" Sophie was the first to speak.
"Ask him," Eliot grumbled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
"He hit me!" Hardison complained. "Punched me right in the stomach. I think he bruised my spleen."
Eliot crossed his arms. "I'm gonna bruise more than that the next time he decides to lurk around the corner in a dark building. That ain't smart, man!" he added when Hardison made a noise of protest.
"Call me when the cake is ready, okay?" Nate muttered, disappearing through the far doorway.
Ignoring the team's leader, Hardison grunted in displeasure and crossed his own arms.
Seeming to sense the potentially volatile situation that was brewing, Sophie cleared her throat. "Well then, no more surprise parties for Eliot then." She gave Hardison a long look, then smiled brightly and moved to place the box on the table in the middle of the room. "What do you say we have some cake and put this all behind us?"
Hardison looked like he wanted to protest again, but Parker interrupted whatever he was about to say. "I brought ice cream!" she offered, reaching behind the sofa and coming up with a large plastic shopping bag. Then she frowned as she hopped off the seat and moved to join the others. "I don't know what kind Eliot likes best," she clarified as she put the bag on the counter, "so I got one of everything."
"Perfect!" His injuries apparently forgotten, Hardison eagerly pulled the plastic handles apart to look inside of the bag. He pulled one of the pints out of the bag and opened the lid, then shot Parker a look and reached for another pint.
Just as he opened the second one, Sophie glanced up from where she was opening the cake box. Catching the look crossing Hardison's face, she leaned over to see what he was seeing. "Parker!" she exclaimed. "Did you take a bite out of every one of these?"
The younger woman shrugged. "Well, I had to see which one tasted the best," she said simply.
"That's not how this works, Parker!" Hardison sounded personally affronted. "That's not how any of this works!"
As the others continued to bicker, Eliot watched them all with a barely discernable smirk. Hardison had had good intentions, at the least, even if those intentions came out in a less than desirable manner. It felt weird to have someone finally care about special occasions like birthdays after all of these years. In fact, he didn't recall ever having told the team when his birthday was; it had been a while since Eliot himself had given the day more than a passing nod each year. Not that he'd ever admit it, but the fact that Hardison had taken the time to find out his birthday and then orchestrate this party spoke to a hidden part of the other man's character.
Eliot didn't particularly want to be the center of attention, but if one good thing did come out of this evening, it would be that cake. He'd recognized the box the moment Sophie had walked in with it as being from the best bakery in a 100-mile radius—it was a very distinctive box—and he would gladly, if grudgingly, endure a party for the sake of that cake.
As long as Hardison hadn't bought trick candles. Eliot would have to check on that.
Fin.