Author's note: all the usual disclaimers about not owning the Leverage characters/concept and not making any money from this apply.
A little something for your Monday morning: the chapter that earned this story its rating of "teen and above". :)
It wasn't a quick shower. Neither Hardison nor Parker intended anything more than washing off the day's grime and getting into clean clothes, but the enormity of the day's events and the intoxication of both of them still being right there and safe sideswiped them so that they found themselves both under the spray of water, soap bubbles sliding off skin that could not get close enough to satisfy the need for reassurance coursing through and echoing between them. Lips met not for luck, but with bruising intensity, demanding-taking-giving-receiving in fear and need and gratitude, as bodies pressed closer, trying to subsume each other into a single core that bullets-and-landmines-and-bombs-and-deadly-viruses couldn't threaten to divide. There was a frantic desperation to their lovemaking as they reached the climax, easing down into a rhythm of exhaustion and satiation, until finally they were standing, legs-bodies-arms-foreheads pressed together, inhaling each other's proximity through the clouds of steam swirling through the shower stall. Hardison felt the tremors in his own body mirrored in Parker's, and could not tell whether they were the come down from exertion or adrenalin. He heaved a sigh, part relief, part contentment, and felt her torso automatically adjust to follow that change in his breathing rhythm, giving where it needed to allow space for his inhale, following into the space created by his gusty exhale. Less than twelve hours earlier, he had watched her twist and contort with graceful ease through a laser grid, thinking of nothing but his luck at having this amazing woman as such an integral part of his life, and the fun of playing Robin Hood with his two best friends, making off with the shiny loot to right the latest of the world's wrongs. That luck seemed a hundred times greater now, the menace of what-could-have-been lurking darker and closer than before. He blinked his eyes open, gazing down at Parker's still face. She looked utterly serene, not a blink or a twitch as she matched her breathing to his, an almost smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. He wondered if she had been scared today – not just afraid of the larger consequences if they failed, but deeply, personally fearing what they-she-he could lose, even if the larger threat were averted. He hadn't seen any sign of it if she had been – not in her or Eliot as he had run straight into active gunfire and she had fled with the case full of the flu virus. He hadn't known what they had planned then – had completely forgotten Parker's mini acetylene torch and his comment earlier that the virus could be killed by fire. But he had seen their silent exchange; had seen, but not quite understood in time, their acceptance not only of how it could end for each of them but also of how it could end for the other. And he realised now that he was angry at them for this, for their willingness to set themselves and each other in the breach like that...for accepting that cost without apparent thought for the portion he – and Nate and Sophie, to be fair – would bear in that absence. And he was maybe a little angrier at Eliot than Parker because he had always thought Eliot protected Parker as much as he did Hardison. But today Eliot showed he was as willing to risk Parker's safety to get the job done as he had been to let Hardison end up at the bottom of a swimming pool, chained to a chair, when they went up against Moreau. And, okay, that wasn't quite fair, because Eliot had offered to get them both out of town when Vance first let them go that morning. But he hadn't fought them when they volunteered to stay, and he hadn't made any attempt to stop Parker when she took off with about-to-be-released virus. And, again, that wasn't quite fair – because he had covered her exit, and he hadn't been in any fit state to run after her and take over after that little debacle. Hardison still didn't know how Eliot had hauled himself up off the floor and walked out of that subway car; the man hadn't had a snowball's chance in hell of catching up with Parker at that point. But still –
"Stop thinking so hard," Parker interrupted his thoughts, reaching around him for the shampoo. "It all turned out fine."
Hardison huffed a little at that. Because they don't know yet that it all turned out fine. There was still no guarantee, with Parker's possible exposure to the flu virus and Eliot bleeding in the other room, and Hardison was very not okay with that. His breathing sped up as the fear and anger gained momentum.
"Stop it," Parker said again, this time pushing a bottle of shower gel into his hand. And he got what she was saying now. There were still things that needed to be done and it was time to get on with doing them. He nodded and slathered more body wash onto his limbs. They needed to finish washing off whatever contaminants they might have picked up during the day; then they needed to get Eliot taken care of – and all of them fed, his stomach reminded him with a growl. They needed a thermometer so they could monitor themselves for the onset of flu symptoms, and they needed orange juice – lots of orange juice. It was full of vitamin C, right? Hardison wasn't sure. He'd have to Google it...maybe check for other foods that were good for fighting off colds and flu. Or maybe Eliot knew...