Author's note: all the usual disclaimers about not owning the Leverage characters/concept and not making any money from this apply.
They arrived in Portland barely later than they had left D.C. thanks to the time difference. By the time they landed, Eliot had slept off the effects of the Percocet – once again vowing not to take any more of it, even as abused muscles, stiff from hours of inactivity, protested the movement of standing and walking.
"What are we doing next?" Parker asked as they stepped onto the passenger walkway leading into the airport, invigorated by her nap on the plane.
Hardison checked the time on his phone.
"Well, Nate wanted to meet at ten-thirty...It's almost ten now, so I guess we should head to the offices."
"Do you think he has another client lined up already?" Parker asked.
"He didn't say," Hardison replied, glancing over at Eliot. Nate had just finished six weeks of planning jobs around the lack of a thief while they waited for Parker's knee to heal. He wondered what a job planned around a missing hitter would look like – or if Eliot, lacking the need for surgery and crutches, was likely to be more successful in convincing Nate he could work through it. Self-declared lack of need for crutches, Hardison amended, catching Eliot under the arm as his leg showed an alarming tendency to give out under him.
"Cramp," Eliot grunted. "Just need to walk it off."
"Uh-huh," Hardison said, flagging down an airline representative with his free hand. "Excuse me?" he launched into an explanation about his friend being a professional baseball player with an old leg injury he was too stubborn to admit was playing up, and could she please organize one of those golf carts the airport had for disabled passengers to take them to the parking garage?
The employee looked a little baffled by this barrage of information but gave Eliot a sympathetic look as she reached for her walkie-talkie.
"You don't need to do that, ma'am," Eliot stopped her, using a hand on Hardison's shoulder to start moving him away, and dredging up his best drawl. "I apologise for my friend here...We've been pullin' practical jokes on each other the whole time we've been travellin', an' I got him pretty good with the flight attendant on the way in, so he's just lookin' for some payback now."
He smiled around teeth gritted in annoyance and pushed Hardison forward.
"Dammit, Hardison," Eliot growled once they were out of earshot. "I told you I just need to walk it off."
"Yeah, right," Hardison scoffed. "'Cause that's how one fixes two holes in the leg. Just admit you need the help, man."
"I didn't say I don't," Eliot hissed. "I said I didn't need a ride. You can't walk off cramps while sitting down, Hardison."
"Yeah, well you can't walk right now, period," Hardison replied, equally exasperated. "Would you please let Parker steal you another crutch?"
"I don't –"
"Don't what?" Hardison interrupted. "Need one? Because I'll have you know, the way you're hanging off my shoulder right now says otherwise."
Predictably, Eliot released his grip on Hardison's shoulder. Hardison stopped where he was, crossing his arms and preparing for his big I told you so moment when Eliot went down in a few steps. To his surprise, Eliot just readjusted the strap of his bag and put his hand right back where it was.
"I was going to say," Eliot continued as Hardison started moving again, that I don't know how much it'd really help."
Hardison opened his mouth, doubtless about to spout invaluable facts about tripods of ability and the beneficial properties of crutches following leg injuries. But Eliot steamrolled over him.
"Having the crutch on my left created a weird weight distribution for that shoulder," Eliot explained. "It wasn't doing much to take the weight off my leg."
"May be you need a different shape crutch," Parker proposed, reappearing from wherever she had melted off to when Hardison initiated the conversation with the airline employee. Some habits were hard to break, and not attracting official attention was high on that list for Parker. "You should try one of the ones from when I sprained my knee...They were pretty good for knocking people out with, too."
"Knocking people out..." Hardison trailed off, bypassing his reflexive correction of Parker's description of her ACL injury. "Parker, did something happen while we were in Japan that you haven't told us about?"
"No, absolutely nothing," Parker replied mechanically. "Does anyone want a Cinnabon? Airports always make me want Cinnabons."
Eliot, thinking of bullet holes that had mysteriously appeared – and equally mysteriously been patched without Hardison noticing them – in the Leverage HQ's walls, dropped Parker a wink...then groaned when she demanded they add cinnamon rolls to the Brewpub's menu. Although a cinnamon bread pudding had possibilities, now that he thought about it...