Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage, or any of the characters, places, or events contained therein. Which, frankly, is still a very good thing.

Note: I was off traveling the world a bit and now I'm back and catching up on Leverage. And unavoidable inspiration struck, as sometimes (though very rarely) it does. So this is a quick, fluffy (and, as usual, pairing-less) episode tag to season 3 episode 8: The Boost Job. If you haven't seen the episode…well now you've been warned. If you'd like, please read, review, and enjoy! (bows) Yoroshiku onegaishimasu!

Peas and Carrots

"I'll be down in a minute," Eliot Spencer called back as he stepped into the loft that adjoined their office.

Although he had another place to call his own, he had claimed the empty space and furnished it for his purposes, and his ownership was more or less respected by the rest of the team.

He was gratified to hear grunts of acknowledgement from his teammates as he shut the door and they headed downstairs for some well deserved celebration.

He slid slowly into his favorite spot on the enormous couch with a sigh that turned into a faint groan, finally free to assess his injuries unobserved. He gingerly put a hand up to the shoulder that had taken the brunt of the impact from the car, probed the swollen joint gently, and then carefully rotated the arm, making sure the shoulder was no longer dislocated. Indeed, all the moving parts seemed to be in order, just as they should be after he had gone to the trouble of putting it back in its socket while he was still in the water. It burned like unholy fire whenever he moved the arm, but that too was to be expected.

He popped a mild painkiller, nothing that would impair his mental facilities, in the probably vain hope of taking the edge off the pain.

He shook his head slightly as he sat back, regretted it as the headache thundered it's way back to his attention, and grimaced. Part of him, admittedly the smaller part, was mildly annoyed that his teammates weren't even slightly concerned that he'd been hit by a car in the course of this last caper-gone-wrong. The rest of him, though, was grateful, both for the chance to be alone and un-harassed, and that his teammates trusted him to take care of them as well as to take care of himself.

He let a small smile creep onto his face as he eased back and stretched his good arm across the top of the couch.

…'till his fingers brushed something that was decidedly not couch.

"Wha…!" was his snarled exclamation as he sprang off the couch and fluidly dropped into a fighting stance.

Only to straighten up in disbelief.

"Parker?"

The thief was perched on the top of the other end of the couch, looking somewhat repentant.

"Dammit Parker!" he roared.

He threw a pillow at her, which she dodged expertly, and he sat back down with another wince. "What is wrong with you…" he muttered, massaging his aching temple.

She smoothly dismounted the couch and came around to stand in front of him.

He rolled his eyes. "What?" he growled.

"I came to apologize." The words were unemotional, but thoughtful-deliberate.

Eliot looked up at her. Her head was down and her hands behind her back.

"Apologize?" he asked skeptically.

"I'm sorry I got you hit by a car." She said matter-of-factly, still not meeting his gaze.

He frowned, part of him, the aching part, really, wanted to give her a good deal more grief about her part in messing up his day. But then again… "You were worried about that kid, weren't ya?"

"Well, yeah," she answered, finally looking up. "It's just, I've been there before and I didn't…have anybody looking out for me."

He met her gaze with a concerned frown and she looked back down again.

"'S alright."

"Hm?" she cocked her head and frowned.

"'s alright. I understand." He executed a one-shouldered shrug.

Parker broke into a self-satisfied grin and brought her hands around to her front.

Eliot raised an eyebrow. She appeared to be holding a pair of flat squarish objects wrapped in dish towels.

"I brought you ice packs." She thrust them at him so fast that he didn't have a chance to refuse.

Sure enough, they were cold to the touch and crinkled like there was indeed something frozen inside them.

He looked up to see the thief disappearing out the door. "Thanks Parker." He called after her, shaking his head carefully. That girl was something else. He looked down at the ice packs. Then again, she had been changing a lot recently.

He leaned back and nested one pack against his shoulder and brought the other one up to the side of his head, sighing a bit at the relief.

And then something cold and wet slid down his face and onto the couch.

He looked.

There lay a slightly unfrozen carrot slice.

It was soon joined by another.

Slowly, like someone working with explosive materials, he pulled the pack away from his face and looked into one of the folds in the towel. Sure enough—an open bag of frozen carrots.

Just then the pack on his shoulder shifted and his lap was instantly filled with frozen peas.

He blinked.

"PARKER!"