Disclaimer: Leverage and all recognizable characters belong to the brilliant folks at TNT.
Characters: Eliot, Hardison, Parker
Rating: PG
Author's note: This is actually the final scene to an as-yet unwritten story. So, seeing as I have had no creative inspiration for "Doubt" I decided to post the one extra scene I had written, just cause I could totally picture it and I think it follows up on the previous chapter quite nicely.
"You should tell him," Parker whispered loudly.
"Tell me what?" Eliot asked as he set down his beer and bowl of popcorn on Nate's coffee table and sank down into the couch beside Parker. He picked up the remote control and started flipping channels.
Hardison shook his head fervently and mouthed his refusal to Parker across Eliot's head. "Parker, no. It's nothing, Eliot."
"Hardison said you're his hero now," Parker said oh-so innocently, but Hardison saw the wicked gleam in her eye.
That finally got Eliot's attention. He turned his gaze full force on Hardison, who pursed his lips and tried not to look mortified. Damn, girl. You're a mean one, he thought.
Eliot raised an eyebrow. "That right, Hardison?" he said.
Hardison mustered up some indignation and shot a baleful glare at Parker. "Naw, man, see, Parker's just misconstruing my words." Here, she smiled at him, and the glare intensified before he continued. "I was just sayin' how appreciative I was of you savin' my butt and all, and the term Rambo-esque may have come into play, but hero? Nuh-uh, nope, I don't recall using that particular word." His cast was nothing but a neon green blur as he waved his hands in emphasis.
"Uh huh." Eliot looked skeptical, but Hardison was literally saved by the bell as the oven timer went off. Eliot moved off towards the kitchen, and Hardison threw a couch pillow at Parker.
"Oof! What was that for?" she demanded.
"What're you doing, girl, you trying to get me killed?"
She scoffed and picked up the abandoned remote. "Oh, come on, Hardison. Eliot wouldn't kill you." She paused, shot a quick glance towards the kitchen area. "Well, maybe…"
Hardison just folded his arms and sank back into the chair cushions. A second later, Eliot stomped back over, shaking a dishtowel in his face.
"The thing is, Hardison, I ain't your damn hero. Yeah, I was able to help ya today, and I'm glad. But you gotta start takin' care of yourself, man, 'cause next time I may not be around to do it for ya."
Eliot's anger was palpable, but Hardison just grinned at him.
Anger was immediately replaced with suspicion. "What?" Eliot demanded.
"You're glad," Hardison stated, and damn, he thought his face would split straight in half.
Realizing what he'd said, Eliot scowled and pushed his hair out of his face. "Yeah, well, that can change real quick."
"Eliot?"
"What?"
"Your biscuits are burning."
"My wha-?" Realization dawned as Eliot sniffed the air. "Damnit, Hardison!" he yelled and stormed off to rescue dinner.
Parker watched Eliot banging around the oven, then shrugged and patted the couch cushion beside her. Hardison more than willingly moved over from the chair. He settled in with a sigh of satisfaction, plopped his feet up on the table, and nestled his orange soda safely between his knees. He wrestled the remote out of Parker's grasp, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
"Ooh, Terminator," he said as he settled on a channel.
"Hardison," Parker whispered, leaning in close, "Do you think Eliot could beat up the Terminator?"
He sipped his soda and smiled. "Without a doubt."
The end? Who really knows for sure…..