Notes: Tag to the Iceman Job. Mostly just some schmoop.

These Seats Are Better
Eliot had to give up courtside seats, Nate tries to make it up to him.

It was quiet when Eliot let himself into their apartment that night. Tension hung in the air and around the hitter's body as he knelt down automatically to take off his boots.

Quiet and tense had been two words to describe their relationship for a while now.

Eliot didn't greet Nate as he made his way into the kitchen but Nate wasn't surprised. He knew Eliot's moods like he knew his own, maybe even better. There had been a close call today. Hardison had been taken and as much as Eliot had tried to joke about not saving Hardison…

Today had been a close call.

Nate got up and followed Eliot, standing in the kitchen door and watching Eliot bang around the kitchen. This was Eliot's Somethings-Bothering-Me state, soon to morph into him deciding to cook something (probably involving lots of chopping, grinding, and generally committing violence against food), which usually ended with Nate having a very good meal (possibly at four in the morning) and Eliot feeling better.

Even with the weird timing Nate found it difficult to have a problem with those turn of events if he already had to deal with an out of sorts Eliot.

Eliot had been out of sorts for awhile.

Before Sophie left he had been dealing with the aftermath of Kentucky. Nate had tried to get Eliot help but after three sessions Eliot had told Nate he wasn't going back and pulled out rule twenty-nine to keep Nate from asking for an explanation.

Nate had his own theories and even just the few vague answers he'd been able to get out of Stanley had more or less confirmed it.

But that was a subject for another time.

Then Sophie had left. Eliot had taken that hard. Eliot considered it his job to protect the team, the entire team, and now Sophie was very far out of reach and off her game.

Not to mention the fling Eliot had had with the Hitter girl and Nate's own almost kiss with Sophie…

Then today had happened and they'd almost lost Hardison.

He heard Eliot grumble about courtside seats and Nate sighed. They had been supposed to go together. It had been the closest thing to a date they'd had in… well a long time.

Which reminded Nate of what he'd done that afternoon.

Eliot was still in the bang around the kitchen state and Nate was starting to get the feel just cooking wasn't going to help very much.

Slowly Nate crossed the kitchen, resting a hand between Eliot's shoulder blades.

Eliot stilled, drawing in a long breath and letting it out as Nate's hand dropped to hold his and tug Eliot out of the kitchen to the living room.

Eliot let him lead them to the leather couch in front of the Tv and sat down. He was too quiet. Eliot was always quiet but there was a difference between that and this.

Nate slid a hand around the back of Eliot's neck pulling him closer and his face upward the space between them disappearing into a kiss. A moment lingered and passed before they shifted so the brief, almost chaste, brush of lips could morph into something more. Hands shifted to find a place or thing to hold onto and for just a moment they blocked out the rest of the other's world.

The moment passed but they stayed close, Nate's fingers trailed through Eliot's hair and up the side of his face, just barely brushing past the scar over his eyebrow. Gentle. They were rarely gentle but they needed it now. They needed this tonight.

They settled, Eliot leaning against him, nothing but the quiet of the night.

With his free hand Nate retrieved the remote and turned on the Tv, pressing the correct series of buttons to play the game they'd missed earlier. "Not exactly courtside" Nate said with a bittersweet tone in his voice.

"Nah." Eliot more mumbled than said. "These seats are better."