A/N: I loved the bro-hugs in The Underground Job. My brother does that and it makes me laugh so much. Anyways, this is a little Eliot story. I don't often write about him, but I couldn't resist.

A sideways, upwards handshake then a sharp tug into a one-armed hug with two arms between us just to make sure we don't touch too much. The "bro-hug". It's not a hug and it's not a handshake. It's a sign of affection between two "bros". And hugs are gay and handshakes are impersonal. So this is somewhere in between. God, I miss the days when two men shook hands, trying to crush the other's hand to prove who was stronger. I used to have these handshake wars with my godfather. I never understood how he won all the time. I never beat him when it came to handcrushing. He was the master.

As Hardison offered me his hand, I figured we were going for a handshake. Not the usual one, though. Not a stick-your-hand-a-foot-in-front-of-you-and-clasp-hands-platonically one. The bent-elbow-reaching-for-the-sky one. The one that makes it hard to crush the other guy's hand. So I put my hand in his in the handshake that is halfway between a handshake and a high five. A sharp tug had me moving towards him, his other arm snaking around to pat me on the back in the "bro-hug."

I was confused by the show of affection. I had experienced bro-hugs a couple times before from when I used to fight. Some of the younger fighters would get me in a bro-hug to show their affection. But a bro-hug from Hardison was… weird. Especially because it was one of the first times he had shown affection towards me. Not a weird sort of I'm-madly-in-love-with-you affection. More like a you're-my-bro-and-this-is-to-say-I-care sort of way. And it was weird. Not a bad weird, but just… weird.

I ran a hand through my hair, annoyed that he had made me think about him. And who he was to me. A few years ago, I would've pushed him off a building with no regrets. Now, though… Now he was like the stupid little brother that I never wanted. And I realized, with horror, that I was fond of Hardison. He was my—for the lack of a better word—bro. And that was ridiculous. Eliot Spencer works alone. Its how I've always worked. But Hardison… with his stupid jokes and preparations… and the fact that he took me "fishing"… It was annoying.

And when Corey gave me the bro-hug, I realized that the bro-hug was a way to say "stay safe, man." Or "I love you in a totally not-gay way." Or "Thanks, man. I respect you." Corey was genuinely sad to see me go and I knew that he would be fine. But I couldn't help but make sure that he was going to be okay. He was a good boy—technically man—for taking care of his mama and sister. He would go places. A man like him was honorable. And a bro-hug from him meant a lot to me.

And, when I really thought about it, a bro-hug from Hardison meant a lot too. It meant that he liked me. It meant that he wanted me back safe. It meant he cared. And I wasn't used to people caring. So, when Hardison said goodnight as he left the bar, I stood and offered my hand in the half-handshake half-highfive position. He looked a little skeptical before he clapped his hand with mine. And, this time, I pulled him into the bro hug, one arm giving him a firm pat on the shoulder before pulling away.

I pretended I didn't see the look of happiness on his face. After all, big brothers need to keep the little brother's spirits up sometimes. And the bro-hug was an "I love you, too, man" hug. In a purely brotherly way. And Hardison knew it because, well, he was a "bro" and all "bros" understand the message in the bro hug.

A/N: Hm… it sounded a little gay in my mind, but oh well. It was intended to be just brotherly love. And, maybe if you guys like it, I'll write more brotherly love stories.

Please review! This is one of my first attempts at writing about pretty much just Eliot.