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.

Author's Note: Thank you to those who reviewed!

Chapter 9

Just then a phone rang.

Eliot was about to smash his cell against the wall when he realized that it wasn't his phone.

"Fuck," she breathed as her mouth left his dick. She climbed off of the bed and ran the back of her hand across her swollen lips as she fumbled through her purse to find her phone. Eliot untied her underwear, restoring his sight.

"Yeah Davis," she answered as he sat up, taking in the sight of her curvy silhouette against the dim light of the window. He knew Davis was her boss. "Shit, alright. Yeah, I'll see you later then." Eliot ran a hand over the curve of her ass as she hung up her phone and tossed it onto the table. She turned to cup his face in her hands as he held her hips, looking up at her. "This gets finished later," she whispered seductively before she enveloped his lips with hers.

The assassin reluctantly pulled away from him and slipped on a fluffy hotel robe from the closet just as a knock sounded on the door. Eliot knew she had gotten another assignment and was most likely handed an envelope of paperwork and plane tickets. He heard her politely thank the man at the door before returning with a manila envelope. She cleared the writing desk before setting it down and reaching into her backpack for her laptop.

"Everything alright?" he asked as he pulled on his boxer briefs.

"Yeah. Just business." She flashed him a smile.

"How soon?" He knew that they wouldn't have much time left. Those packages were like little envelopes of doom.

"Day after tomorrow. Early in the morning," her big green eyes told him everything. They had gotten used to leaving by now, but somehow every time it got a little harder. Seeing each other every year had become something expected; their very own unalienable right. But with every year came the possibility of new danger, and new love. Not that that was a bad thing. Each would be thrilled for the other if they found it. That was how deep their love was. But there would always be that selfishness, that longing of one for the other. And now they would have to do it again. They only had one more day before goodbye.

Eliot stood up and wrapped a hand around the base of her neck, gently pulling her to him before laying a long kiss on the top of her head. She pressed her cheek against his chest and he held her there for a moment.

"How long do you think you've got on there?" He nodded towards her laptop. She had to check in with headquarters and get her files together.

"Half an hour at most," she looked up at him.

"Alright. Finish it up and then put on some heels. I'm taking you dancing."

Her face lit up into that million dollar smile. She would have her taste of the Havana nightlife after all.

Thirty minutes later, Eliot was staring into the mirror, adjusting his fedora. Natalia came strutting into the bathroom, makeup bag in hand. She set it down on the counter, brushing her hair off of her face and neck. Natalia leaned into the mirror slightly as she applied sheer foundation, accentuating her butt as she did. Eliot's attention flew from his reflection to her standing right beside him. She was wearing the same outfit as before, as was he, only now she had added a pair of heels that made his pants fit just a bit tighter. They were nearly five inches of black platform suede that accentuated her calves, the muscles in her thighs, and, of course, her ass. They made her just a tad bit taller than him, but he could overlook that. Eliot bit his bottom lip, fighting the urge to bend her over the counter right there.

"How's the view?" Natalia purred. Eliot caught her smokey green eyes in the mirror.

"Stunning," he growled as he stood behind her, brushing her hair aside, allowing him to suck on her neck. Her scent invaded his nose, the florals in her hair, the vanilla in her perfume, a hint of something uniquely "her" lingering on her skin. She braced herself against the counter, closing her eyes at the sensation as he held her waist. Eliot moaned as she wrapped a leg around his rubbing her foot along the back of his calf. They could have stayed like this for hours. But he had promised her at least one dance.

The night air was heavy with humidity and the sound of distant music as they roamed the street in search of the perfect hangout. Natalia's heels clicked on the cobblestone and Eliot reached out just enough to find her hand before snaking his fingers through hers. She had forgone a purse in favor of some Cuban Pesos and her phone in her pockets and a knife secured in the small of her back. They knew enough to stay away from the large tourist clubs and settled on a bar on the beach with a live salsa band. It wasn't overly crowded, but there were enough bodies on the dance floor that Eliot wouldn't feel exposed. His first order of business was to get some rum in him if he was going to follow through on his promise to dance. It wasn't that he couldn't dance, he just preferred not to when there were other people around. The fact that he was in a foreign country surrounded by people he'd never see again didn't really matter. He gestured to the bartender for two glasses of rum on the rocks, which were quickly placed in front of them.

"To you darlin'," Eliot held up his glass in Natalia's direction as he leaned backwards against the bar, eyes locked on hers.

"To old friends," she clinked her glass against his as he grinned and they each took a sip.

Eliot took a minute to take in the pleasant assault on his senses. The warm, humid air smelled of cigars, sweat, and sea. The horns from the band were ringing in his ears as he took another sip of rum, feeling it warm his throat and chest. His sense of sight right now was probably his favorite though, as his frame of vision was filled by what had to be the most beautiful assassin in the world. The lighting in the bar was a dim warm gold, accented by a string of red Christmas lights, and blue neon advertising imported beer. It bathed her bronze skin, glinting off of her hair, all shining in her big liquid green eyes.

Apparently though, he wasn't the only one who appreciated her beauty, because there was a drunken tourist behind her who was a little too interested in showing his appreciation. The hitter didn't take kindly to the way he was looking at Natalia. And he happened to be getting a little too close for Eliot's comfort. Immediately she read the look in his eyes just before his expression turned to mild annoyance.

"Tourist?" She asked.

"Yeah," he growled.

"Drunk?"

"Yeah," Eliot moved a bit closer to her, just in case. It was a gesture born of his gentlemanly habit of taking care of the women he was with. He forgot sometimes that this woman in particular could take care of herself, thank you very much.

"Easy big boy," she ran her fingers over his arm as she adjusted her position to lean against the bar. "No need to get snippy until the looking turns to touching."

"Yeah, but I don't particularly like the way he's lookin'," Eliot's voice had dropped to that low growl, only this was the pissed off one, not the turned on one. She was right though. He couldn't go punching guys out just for looking at her. He'd be leaving a trail of unconscious assholes a mile long. Drunken Tourist let out a low whistle which Natalia ignored.

"Hey honey, I'm talking to you," his accent was slurred American. Apparently he was smart enough to get into the country, but not enough to pace his drinks.

"Hey man, back off," Eliot warned, his eyes locked on the intruders'.

"Hey man, I wasn't talking to you," he mocked Eliot's accent. That's when annoyed flipped to pissed the fuck off. The hitter made a move to step towards him, but Natalia planted a hand square on his chest, stopping his motion.

"Easy…" she purred, remarkably calm considering the situation.

"I just wanted to talk to your girl here," he put his hand on her shoulder, only to have Eliot immediately smack it off.

"Touch her again and I swear…" Eliot snarled, staring daggers over Natalia's shoulder at the drunk. She kept her hand on his chest and it was literally the only thing stopping the hitter from mashing him to a pulp.

"Why don't you let her speak for herself? I just want to buy you a drink sweetheart," the man's hand snaked around her waist. Bad idea. Wrong woman.

Eliot saw her eyes flash just before she whipped around, grabbing his wrist as she went, wrenching his arm backwards into a chicken-wing lock. She held him face-down into the bar with other hand before she leaned down so he could hear her over the music.

"I prefer to let my actions do the talking. Also, don't ever touch a woman without her permission. It's rude and it ain't gonna get you anywhere. Now run along and go play with your drunk little frat boys over there," she tightened her hold for effect. "Oh, and you best watch your back. You never know when Uncle Sam will crack down on illegal visits to Cuba. It'd be a pity if you never made it back to the states, now wouldn't it?" At that she released him and stepped aside as he staggered backwards, shocked out of his prior stupor. With wide eyes he mouthed "bitch" before stumbling over to his group of friends in a smoky corner of the bar.

Natalia fluffed her hair as she turned back to Eliot, taking another sip of her rum.

"How'd you know he was a frat boy?" He asked before motioning for another drink as he drained his first.

"I saw them when we walked in. They all have the same haircut."

Eliot laughed as the bartender brought two more glasses.

"One more for the lady on the house for handling that with style," the bartender said in Spanish, reaching out to shake her hand before returning to tend his customers.

"I can't take you anywhere can I?"

"No," she smiled and toyed with the collar of his polo. "You got enough alcohol in your system that I can get my dance now?" Her fingers moved to play with his hair.

Eliot downed his fresh drink and pointed to hers. She shook her head with a smirk on her face and handed the glass to him.

"Okay," he swallowed the last of his drink with a face and she took his hands in hers before pulling him out into the middle of the crowd. Natalia draped her arms over his shoulders and he ran his hands down her back before they settled on her waist as he made an effort to move to the music. She wound her hips to the rhythm being hammered out on a pair of tumbadoras, staring him down with her wicked eyes. She moved like a cat, lithe and seductive in his arms as she ran her fingers down his chest. He grabbed one of her hands and spun her around as the brass reached a crescendo. When she spun back into him he stepped forward, his chest meeting her back, stopping her motion. Natalia wrapped her arms backwards around his neck as his nose brushed her ear. She slowly ground her ass against Eliot's package causing his breath to quicken against her neck. The feel of him; solid muscle against her back, his arms around her waist, her fingers in the ends of his hair, the music enveloping them, it all combined to push her into a mild delirium. She wanted him and she wanted him now. His grip tightened on her hips before he spun her around to face him.

"Let's get outta here," he growled before grabbing her hand and pulling her to the bar.

Eliot gestured to a fresh bottle of the rum they had been drinking as Natalia stuffed some pesos into his other hand. He was mildly amused to find that the bills were warm from being in her pocket. "I'll take the whole thing," Eliot slipped the bartender a few more Cuban Pesos than the bottle of rum was worth before grabbing Natalia's hand and blazing a trail through people down to the beach.