Title: Havana

Summary: Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

Chapter 6

Natalia stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel before returning to the bedroom for her clothes. She found Eliot in his boxer briefs, hair pulled back in a low ponytail, playing fetch with Hannibal who dropped the ball immediately and ran to her, begging to be picked up. She reached down to pet his head and moved to collect her clothes and a bag of toiletries from her black duffel. Eliot sat on the edge of the bed, content for now with watching her move as she selected a few cosmetics from the pile on the writing desk.

"Do you want to do anything with your hair?" She looked over at him.

"Ya have a blow dryer?" Eliot subconsciously ran a hand over his hair in an attempt to smooth any unruly pieces. Natalia gestured for him to follow her into the bathroom.

She dumped the contents of her arms on the counter and Eliot saw that there was indeed a blow dryer mounted on the wall to the right of the sink. Before he could reach for it she was behind him and ran a hand up over his shoulders before gently pulling the hair tie from his damp brown locks, tousling them a bit. She unzipped her bag and pulled out a small bottle and a round hairbrush.

"What's that?" He asked as she squeezed some of the contents out into her hand. Whatever it was, it smelled good.

"Shine serum," she calmly replied as she proceeded to apply the product to his hair, starting with the ends and working her way up to the roots. "You have hair like me and curly hair frizzes in this humidity. This will help."

By now she had started to massage his scalp with the pads of her fingers and just the right amount of fingernail. Eliot never understood just why that felt so good. He never liked it when Sophie kept asking to braid his hair, or when Parker tried to play with it. But then again Sophie and Parker never did this. He was shaken from his thoughts by her soft laughter. It was then that he realized he had been growling lowly in satisfaction.

"You sound like you're purring," Natalia smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was just tall enough to rest her chin in the curve where his neck met his shoulder. "I love your hair," she whispered as she nuzzled his skin.

It was a moment of affection that neither often experienced. Eliot never really stuck around long enough to feel emotionally connected to someone, and even if he did, he wasn't the one being held like this. And honestly, it was kinda nice. For a split second his mind ran away from him.

He wondered if this was what it was like to be married.

What would it be like to wake up next to her forever? To get to see that fleeting serenity bathe her features every morning. He wanted to know what it was like to share a bathroom like this, her side of the sink covered with bottles of perfume, lotions and makeup, his with his toothbrush and toothpaste. And maybe a razor if he felt like shaving that day. He would have someone to put nice things in his hair that he never would have known about, let alone put there himself for fear of Hardison calling him girly. Eliot wanted to know what it was like to finally have someone who really appreciated him and showed it with more than just a slap on the back. And what's more, he found himself wanting that from her.

He looked up from the counter where he had been staring and found her eyes in the mirror. The assassin's gaze darted away and he could have sworn that Natalia had been thinking the exact same thing. She released her hold on him and reached to give him the round brush.

"Have at it," she broke the silence, her voice tinged with the slightest, barely perceptible sadness. The hitter kissed her on the cheek, hoping it would provide the right amount of whatever it was she needed just then, and a soft smile assured him that she was okay. She collected her clothes and lotion moved back from the counter to dress.

Eliot had seen plenty of people use a round brush: model girlfriends, hairdressers, Sophie. But he had never actually used one himself. He supposed now was as good a time as any to try.

As he worked he caught glimpses of her in the mirror through his peripheral vision. He didn't understand how someone could look so elegant while applying lotion and getting dressed. He thought that only existed in commercials with actors who tried too hard. But Natalia was a real person. Someone who wasn't trying at all…and had just put on a black lace thong. But he would deal with that later.

When she finished the ritual she stepped into the shower to retrieve her robe, which she rung out and hung over the shower door to dry before returning to the counter beside him. She began to apply her makeup, causing Eliot to pay more attention to her than to his hair. She expertly swept on a bit of black eyeliner and mascara, a process that still fascinated him; she made it look so easy. And so good. He had done it himself once or twice, nearly took an eye out, and was called Steven Seagal by Hardison. Stephen Seagal…he snorted at the thought even now. I could take him out with my hands tied behind my back….while wearing eyeliner…he mused, more than a little bitter at the recollection. His attention turned back to her as she dusted on a bit of blush and translucent powder. She looked beautiful, even while fussing with her off-the-shoulder black shirt and khaki shorts. Natalia fished a necklace out of her bag; three bean shaped beads painted a frosted gold and threaded onto a black silk cord. Eliot shut the blow dryer off and faced her; he knew that necklace, somehow.

"Graduation," she stated simply and looked over at him. How in the hell does she do that…? It was like she could read his mind.

"Ah, that's it," he took the beads between his fingers, running his thumb over the lacquered wood. "Tiffany's," he recalled, wondering how he could even have forgotten. It had been over ten years but that was no excuse.

Natalia had worn the necklace to their graduation ceremony, the day before they were all to be shipped off to carry out their training in nefarious corners of the globe. Neither had said anything about it, but they each knew full-well that they may never see each other again. That night was perhaps the closest that their under-the-radar fuckery ever came to making love, before or since.

That was the night that they took their time, exploring every inch of each other's then unscarred bodies. They were inches each had seen before, but never quite like this. There's a certain lens that comes with the thought of never seeing a lover again, that when one looks through, can change even the most familiar into something unexplored. That night they had touched each other in unhurried desire, took the time to kiss and breathe in each other's smell one last time. Eliot had fallen asleep with Natalia wrapped in his arms wearing nothing but that necklace, her skin pressed flush against his. But he woke to a frigid emptiness. She stole away in the night, just like she was trained to do, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his pillow and a note on the dresser.

That became one of the reasons that he didn't allow himself to sleep more than 90 minutes a night. He figured a woman wouldn't fall asleep, wake up, and run away from him in that span of time. They usually couldn't recover that fast anyway, he smirked.

He supposed Natalia's gesture suited them though. A 'goodbye' and a hug wouldn't have felt right that morning. They were each built to run; headstrong into conflict, one job to another, swiftly away from themselves. Eliot still carried Natalia's note in his wallet. It was tattered and yellowed and the ink had faded, but it didn't matter, he knew the words by heart.

Get the job done. Look after yourself. Never regret anything. And when all that's finished…

Come find me.

They had both kept up that end of the bargain. It was as if they drew strength from each other, their time together serving to recharge for whatever life was about to throw at them. They were really the only consistency in each other's lives. Well, until Eliot found the team. But she was a different kind of consistency, which he never wanted to lose.

Natalia wrapped her arms around Eliot's neck, pulling him into an embrace charged with emotion. She could read his mind alright. His strong hands moved to her jaw, angling her face up to his, enveloping her lips with his own.

"Mmmm, Eliot," she whispered huskily when he released her.

"We should probably get going soon huh?" He set her free, realizing that he was suddenly very hungry. He glanced at his watch as saw that it was almost eight.

"Five minutes," she playfully swatted his ass as he went to get dressed. Natalia quickly blew out her hair and twirled it up in a bun before repacking all of her things and returning to the bedroom. Eliot was already dressed and idly flipping through channels on the TV with Hannibal sitting in his lap. She replaced the bag of toiletries in her larger duffel bag, slipped on a pair of brown beaded sandals and slung a slouchy leather handbag over her shoulder before hauling her duffel off to the closet. He flipped off the TV and placed the unruly ball of fluff on the floor. The assassin still stood with the closet doors open and he curiously stepped over to see what she was staring so intently at.

He stood behind her and saw three, locked, heavy duty black cases. They were the same cases that musicians used to ship equipment and were labeled as such, but inside were layers of foam cushioning a very different type of gear.

Eliot didn't like guns and all through their training he made sure that she knew just how he felt. But she honestly didn't care. It wasn't that she couldn't do what he did with his hands. Natalia was highly skilled in martial arts, with her expertise being in Krav Maga; explosive Israeli street-fighting. The assassin was a perfect sparring partner for him, their skills matched effortlessly. What he demonstrated through brute force, she countered with lithe movements and expert, almost uncanny foresight. She just happened to prefer the feel of cold metal, her finger on the trigger, and the silenced pop of a perfect shot. She said it turned her on. He said they had a limited range of efficacy. She said she had a sniper rifle for that. Eliot didn't bother to argue.

He knew the smaller case contained her handguns with extra magazines of ammunition and a silencer for each. The medium sized case he figured housed an array of sharp objects. Daggers, knives, throwing stars, grappling hooks, rope and a harness most likely. The largest had to contain explosives since it was riddled with more "Handle with Care" and "This Side Up" stickers than the other two. Grenades, tear gas canisters, C4, a gas mask, and det cords. Or as she would call it, "all the fun stuff." Briefly, he considered introducing her to Parker, but he thought better of it. Too much crazy.

And finally, tucked in the corner was a guitar case. Only, she couldn't play guitar. What she could do was play with the controls on that sniper rifle until she took someone out with pinpoint accuracy.

"The toys all safe?" He quipped.

"Perfect," she shut the sliding mirrored doors and as she brushed past him Eliot caught a whiff of some kind of perfume that she had applied. It was a subtle woody-floral with notes of musk and vanilla that smelled really fucking good. Eliot followed the scent to the front door, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirrored doors. He could have sworn his hair had a bit more bounce to it. And it was even…shinier.

Not bad. He thought. Not bad at all.

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