Title: Two for the Road
Summary: Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own "Leverage." Clearly.
Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Don't worry, folks, it's not really going to be a sad fic.
They spend a few days in New York City, Eliot trying to decide their next move. Parker's shown no interest in anything, letting him lead her around like a little kid. After their conversation about Sullivan, she hasn't said a word to him on her own. She answers questions, always in a dull, decidedly un-Parkerlike voice. He's starting to worry that she's really cracked this time.
And she's not the only one.
After two days in the same place, he starts to get that itchy feeling again, despite the fact that he hasn't seen a single sign that they're being followed. Despite that, he makes Parker grab her things at 2 in the morning and move to another rathole motel.
She does as he asks, of course, without a single word.
The next day, they're on the road again. He's stunned when, somewhere in Pennsylvania, Parker speaks.
"I'm hungry," she says. "Can we stop?"
They stop at a small diner, and he orders breakfast even though it's nearly 10 p.m. Parker orders a cheeseburger and a bowl of Froot Loops.
"How is it?" he asks.
She shrugs. "It's all right. Not as good as yours."
They're back in the truck before she speaks again. "Eliot … thank you."
"For what?"
"For sticking with me," she says. "I thought you'd leave me, but you didn't. But … if they're after us, it would probably be safer to split up."
He surprises himself by immediately shooting that idea down. "Nah," he says. "Better to stay together. I watch your back, you watch mine."
She nods, offering him a small smile. "I can do that."
By the time they hit West Virginia, the itch is gone altogether. Either they're no longer being followed … or they never were in the first place, and he's as crazy as Parker.
At breakfast one day, he hears the men in the booth behind them talking about an all-comers off-the-book fighting match that happens each weekend a couple towns over.
"You should sign up," Parker says.
"What?"
"You practice fighting all the time, but it's not the same as the real thing." She shrugs. "Plus, you know you want to hit something."
He starts up a conversation with the men, finds out how to sign up and ignores the smirk on Parker's face.
He could use the practice, and Parker is right. He does want to hit something.
The first night, he only gets two fights. He's so efficient at taking down his opponents that it's almost boring, but he gets a few hundred bucks out of it. He also gets an invitation to return the next weekend for some more serious bouts, which he gladly accepts.
The next weekend is better. He fights three men, and though the first two aren't much of a challenge, the third clearly has military training and is damn good.
They fight, round after brutal round, bringing the bloodthirsty crowd to its feet. Eliot tries to tune out the crowd but can't help a tight grin at the sound of Parker screeching "Get him!" He worries a little, as he often does, at how good it feels to beat another man until he can't stand, but he can't help the fact that his blood is singing by the time he finishes off his opponent.
Despite the fact that he's exhausted and dripping with sweat, a curvy redhead attaches herself to him as soon as he's declared the winner, and he's tempted to take what she's so clearly offering.
Then he sees Parker, rolling her eyes and laughing … really laughing at him. He'd be offended, but it's the first time he's seen her laugh since the explosion. He politely refuses the redhead's offer and, grabbing his gym bag, wanders over to Parker.
She's greedily fingering a huge wad of cash, presumably winnings from the night's fights.
"I bet $500 on you!" she says, grinning. "Next time, I'll bet more."
He shrugs. "Don't know if I'll do any more."
She hands him an envelope. "That organizer guy gave this to me. It's your winnings, plus you're invited to another fight. A bigger one, near Richmond. In two weeks."
He shrugs again and shoves the envelope in his bag. "I'll think about it."
Parker nods in the direction of the redhead, who's still lingering nearby. "I think that woman wants to have sex with you."
He laughs shortly, and it feels rusty, like he hasn't laughed in a hundred years.
"I can go back by myself," Parker offers, hesitantly. "If you want to …"
"Nah," he says. "Honestly, I'd rather just have a shower."
"Mmmm-hmmm," Parker hums, wrinkling her nose. "You do smell bad."
He laughs again, and this time it feels a little better.
tbc