AN: This takes place between The Big Bang Job and The San Lorenzo Job in Leverage time; Early on in and is just a flight of fancy... Eliot sensed the person getting onto the bar stool next to him before he heard the stool move or a woman's voice order a beer.
Disclaimer: I do own Rose, but not Eliot, Leverage, or Supernatural. I wish I did. There would be more crossovers.
He groaned internally. He'd come to this seedy, out of the way dive bar expressly to avoid the giggly or moaning drunk men and women he'd find in a classier place.
Out of the corner of his eye, Eliot looked at his barmate. He saw a small pair of well-worn sneakers, faded blue jeans, and an equally faded plaid shirt that was far too large on the petite form over a tighter blue t-shirt. The half of her face he could see was pretty with a little upturned nose, youth, and a surprising lack of makeup. She had long, dark, wavy brown hair in a ponytail. She did not look like your average, 11:30 pm barfly, especially not in a place as rough as the one they were in.
"Have I got something on my face?" she asked in a polite but slightly impatient voice.
He almost, almost, startled. Most people never noticed when he was observing them when he didn't want them to. "You don't look like you belong here."
He might possibly have said that too aggressively, but he didn't care.
She shrugged. "You're not the first person to tell me something like that."
"Then maybe you oughtta just go back to the sorority house," he snapped.
She snorted. "I'm not exactly the sorority row type." She sipped her beer and smirked.
"No, you're more like the drop-out-of-school-to-form-a-grunge-band-in-mom's-garage-type," he snarled, almost hoping she would throw the beer in his face and stalk out. At least she'd be gone and he could brood without anyone in his space.
"Three problems with that," she retorted, sounding pissed, and understandably so, as hell. "One, I don't like grunge. Two, I dropped out to help in the family business. And three, my mom died when I was six months old. Now, I dunno what's wrong with you, but all I did was sit down and order a beer. If you've got a problem with that, you can go screw yourself 'cause I'm not leaving 'till I want to." To make her point, she took a loud sip and planted herself a little more comfortably on her stool.
God help him but Eliot wanted to knock her off of it. He didn't because a: she was a girl, b: he deserved it, and c: it was his job to control his own violence. But he wanted to.
After three minutes (he counted) of extremely tense silence, he heard her take a deep breath and say "I'm sorry."
That startled him into actually looking her full in the face. "What?"
He noticed that her profile didn't do her justice. She was a beauty. And just a kid. If she was old enough for that beer than he was a hacker.
"I'm never going to see you again; I should've just risen above it and let you keep your sour mood to yourself. But I've had a rough day and I didn't, so, sorry."
"Damnit," he mumbled, feeling guilty for verbally lashing out at an innocent bystander. It was an unusual thing for him, well, not to do, but to feel guilty about. Apparently those huge green and gold-flecked eyes made it possible. "You didn't do anything." It was the closest to an apology he was going to give a complete stranger.
A minute later, a fresh glass was put in front of his nearly empty one. "Did you just buy me a drink?"
"Yep. I've got older brothers so I know that generally, when a man is that grumpy, he's had a terrible day."
"I'm not gonna tell you all about it," he said fiercely.
"Wasn't asking you to," she said quickly. "I don't want any cheesy bar scenes. I was just being nice."
"Well, aren't you an angel," he mocked, even though he was grateful for the alcohol.
For some reason, this struck her as extremely funny and she doubled over on her stool with laughter for a moment. "God, I hope not."
"You're weird." He was a little shocked to find that he was a lot less angry than he had been twenty minutes ago.
"No, I'm Rose," she said without skipping a beat. "Rose Winchester. I'd offer my hand, but I'm not sure you won't try to break it."
He chuckled. "Eliot Spencer." He offered his own palm. He was surprised by the calluses he could feel on hers. "You really do look out of place," he said conversationally.
She laughed. "What's funny about that is that I grew up in places like this."
Eliot looked around. "Rough place for a kid."
"Part of the family apprenticeship," she explained, smiling at her beer.
"What does your family do?" he asked.
"Would you believe it if I said we were bounty hunters?"
"Nope."
"Then I won't," she said with a grin.
"Fair enough," he said with a laugh. "Where're you from?"
She frowned thoughtfully. "Kansas technically, but when Mom died, Dad got a new job and we never stayed anywhere else longer than a month so... I am from the backseat of the family '67 Impala." She smiled and swished her beer around in the bottle. "What about you?"
"Kentucky, but I left when I was a teenager."
"Kept the accent," she remarked.
"Only thing I liked about the place," he said bitterly.
"Now you're from here?"
"Naw, just in town for a job."
"What do you do?"
I beat up people. I'm a thief. I'm a member of a modern day Robin Hood's Merry Men. "Would you believe me if I said I was a private detective?"
She laughed. "Nope."
"Then I won't."
She laughed again. "Touché." She raised her beer in a toast. "Here's to being a couple of shady characters."
"I'll drink to that."
She stood up after the clink. "Ok, this is getting waaay to close to a chick-flick moment for my taste. Wanna play pool 'till my ride get here?"
"Love to," he agreed, glad to get away from the cheese factor himself.
He followed her to the pool table and the way she moved was the most surprising thing yet. She moved like a predator. No wasted movements, no uncertain steps, just smooth grace. She moved like he himself did. Eliot knew he could fight and he was prepared to admit that was a little unnerving in someone like Rose.
"I've got a question, Rosie..."
"Rose," she corrected immediately like it was some sort of unintentional insult.
"Why'd you sit next to me? This place ain't exactly crowded."
An odd, closed, familiar look came over her face. "No reason," she said evenly. "You wanna break?"
That was a lie. She chose that seat because it was one of two in the bar where you could see every door and window-the same reason Eliot chose his. He didn't comment on that though, just let her take the first shot.
After that, he had to concentrate on the game. Which he hadn't had to do in years.
"Been a long time," he complained good naturedly once the game was over, "since I had my ass handed to me at pool."
"You gave me a run for my money," she disagreed, pocketing the twenty bucks she had just won off of him.
"Whatever." They ordered their refills. "You mentioned you've got brothers..."
"Two. Both older."
"They the ones that taught you how to play pool?"
She smiled fondly as she thought about it. "Yeah, well, Dean did. Sam taught me how to read." She laughed quietly as some private memory. "What about you, Eliot? You have any family?"
Maybe it was because of the soft look on her face when she talked about her brothers, but the answer hurt more than it usually did. "No."
She gave him an odd look. "You sure about that?"
"Say again?" He asked, sure that he'd misheard. "I'd know if I had relatives."
"I didn't ask about relatives. I asked about family."
"Same damn thing."
"No," she corrected, shaking her head. "My biological uncle and I are NOT family because I don't even know the man. There's a limit to what I'd do for him. My brothers on the other hand...I'd do ANYTHING for them. We'd go to hell for each other." This made her laugh darkly for a moment like it was twistedly funny. "But Cas and I are family too and I just met him not too long ago..."
"Adopted brother?"
"Not sibling feelings," she said slowly.
"Oh."
She laughed. "Not like that, it's just...I dunno how exactly to classify him. But he's family."
He nodded slowly. "I actually understand that."
"I ask again, got any family?"
For some reason, this answer hurt more. "I think I used to."
"That why you were so miserable?" He nodded. "Don't worry too much about it, Eliot."
He shook his head. "You don't understand. They just found out about something I did once..."
She shrugged. "Think we all get along great all of the time? Sam and Dean have gotten into more than one fistfight. Horrible things have been said by all three of us. There are lots of regrets." The look on her face was too damn old for someone so damn young. "And whoever said that you can't hate someone you love is full of shit because there are times when I have hated them both so much I thought I was going to crawl out of my skin. But that's the best part about family." She looked him straight in the eye and smiled. "They always move on and, eventually, forgive you. And they're always there when you need them."
Eliot was saved having to answer when the door opened and two men walked in, blinking at the smoky light. One was in a leather jacket and one was freakishly tall. They both moved like Rose.
Who smiled when she saw them. "Hey, guys, I'm over here," she called from their corner. "Sam, Dean, this is Eliot."
Sam smiled and shook his hand (he could see Rose's hair and white teeth) in a massive paw. Dean just looked at him suspiciously with Rose's green/gold eyes and skin tone. "You ok, Rosie?"
She and Sam both rolled their eyes. "Just a friendly game, Dean," she said patiently.
Dean and Eliot sized each other up, predator to predator. Dean broke first when Sam coughed conspicuously. "Ready to go?"
"Give me one sec...?"
Dean had to be reluctantly pulled away by his brother. If it hadn't been pure over protectiveness, Eliot would have been offended, but Rose was someone worth protecting so he wasn't. Much.
She wrote her number down on a napkin. "Give me a call if anything weird happens."
Eliot took it and frowned, puzzled. "Like what?"
"You'll know it when it happens." She patted his arm. "Take care, Eliot."
"You too, Rose."
He watched her walk away, an arm around each brother's waist. Then he put the ear bud in for the first time since confessing at HQ about helping Moreau. "Anybody there?"
"Eliot! Man," Hardison's voice responded immediately. "Damn it is good to hear your voice. We were all starting to get freaked. No more of this emo, going off on your own to brood and be Batman stuff. You all right?"
"I'm ok." He was surprised when he realized that he meant it. "I'll be back soon."
