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laleiaTitle: Catching Up
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing/Rating: Hardison/Parker, PG
Summary: Parker runs. Hardison chases.
Author's Notes: When I heard the "Where are you going"/"Let's see how hard you look" interchange, my brain demanded fanfic immediately. I tried to supply, but it wasn't working, and I'd given up on writing this and resigned myself to waiting for someone else to write it, except![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lkwang asked and I couldn't really refuse, so ... Yeah. A few notes: I tried editing for geographical accuracy, but "I need a tall place next to a famous art museum in Italy" doesn't really cut it as a Google phrase. Also, "antiquities wing" sounds better than "Sully Wing." Also, am considering not switching tense at the end after all.
In three months, he’s caught up with her three times, and never for long enough.
The first time was in Venice. He’d had alerts set up at all the famous museums to email him if anyone resembling her showed up. He’d shown up just in time to see her swan-dive off the Campanile di San Marco with two Picassos and a Dalí. She was laughing on the way down, like a sylph in her element.
The second time was by accident. He’d taken a detour to Paris because the Doctor Who Christmas Special was filming there. He watched them film part of the time, managed to score an autograph from Freema Agyeman, and was really casing the Louvre more out of habit than because he was planning anything when he bumped into a blonde tourist.
“Excuse me,” a familiar voice said.
“Parker?”
But then the alarms went off in the Antiquities Wing and guards were running, and suddenly she’d grabbed his hand and dragged him along on her getaway. “I didn’t even do anything!”
Before he’d fully regained his bearings, they were in a secluded storage room and she was stripping to the nude, per usual. He averted his eyes politely, as usual, and when he looked back, she was gone.
He looked from side to side, and then up (because if he’d learned one thing from Parker, it was to always look up), but she’d vanished in the time he’d taken to give her some privacy.
The third time was amazing.
He’d checked all his mailboxes because it was Christmas and you never know what Santa might leave you, where. In one of them, he’d gotten an unmarked envelope with “For the Hacker” written in Parker’s handwriting.
Times Square. New Year’s Eve. It’s a date.
He’s not sure what she has planned, but he knows it won’t be boring. He spends days deciding what to wear. He even calls Eliot to ask for advice, which is a mistake.
“What are you, a girl? Just wear something warm!”
That is why on New Year’s Eve, Alec Hardison finds himself crowded with a million other people in Times Square as they chant the countdown.
10! 9! 8!
His cellphone rings. An unknown number.
7! 6!
“Hardison here.”
5! 4!
“Watch very carefully.”
3! 2!
Later, nobody’s really sure what exactly happened. Accounts vary, and the only consistent thread is this – on the very last second of 2009 that year, someone stole the Ball. Yes, that Ball.
That night, Hardison has some of the best sex of his life. He wakes up to an empty bed and note on the bedside table.
See you in Rio de Janeiro.
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing/Rating: Hardison/Parker, PG
Summary: Parker runs. Hardison chases.
Author's Notes: When I heard the "Where are you going"/"Let's see how hard you look" interchange, my brain demanded fanfic immediately. I tried to supply, but it wasn't working, and I'd given up on writing this and resigned myself to waiting for someone else to write it, except
lkwang asked and I couldn't really refuse, so ... Yeah. A few notes: I tried editing for geographical accuracy, but "I need a tall place next to a famous art museum in Italy" doesn't really cut it as a Google phrase. Also, "antiquities wing" sounds better than "Sully Wing." Also, am considering not switching tense at the end after all.In three months, he’s caught up with her three times, and never for long enough.
The first time was in Venice. He’d had alerts set up at all the famous museums to email him if anyone resembling her showed up. He’d shown up just in time to see her swan-dive off the Campanile di San Marco with two Picassos and a Dalí. She was laughing on the way down, like a sylph in her element.
The second time was by accident. He’d taken a detour to Paris because the Doctor Who Christmas Special was filming there. He watched them film part of the time, managed to score an autograph from Freema Agyeman, and was really casing the Louvre more out of habit than because he was planning anything when he bumped into a blonde tourist.
“Excuse me,” a familiar voice said.
“Parker?”
But then the alarms went off in the Antiquities Wing and guards were running, and suddenly she’d grabbed his hand and dragged him along on her getaway. “I didn’t even do anything!”
Before he’d fully regained his bearings, they were in a secluded storage room and she was stripping to the nude, per usual. He averted his eyes politely, as usual, and when he looked back, she was gone.
He looked from side to side, and then up (because if he’d learned one thing from Parker, it was to always look up), but she’d vanished in the time he’d taken to give her some privacy.
The third time was amazing.
He’d checked all his mailboxes because it was Christmas and you never know what Santa might leave you, where. In one of them, he’d gotten an unmarked envelope with “For the Hacker” written in Parker’s handwriting.
Times Square. New Year’s Eve. It’s a date.
He’s not sure what she has planned, but he knows it won’t be boring. He spends days deciding what to wear. He even calls Eliot to ask for advice, which is a mistake.
“What are you, a girl? Just wear something warm!”
That is why on New Year’s Eve, Alec Hardison finds himself crowded with a million other people in Times Square as they chant the countdown.
10! 9! 8!
His cellphone rings. An unknown number.
7! 6!
“Hardison here.”
5! 4!
“Watch very carefully.”
3! 2!
Later, nobody’s really sure what exactly happened. Accounts vary, and the only consistent thread is this – on the very last second of 2009 that year, someone stole the Ball. Yes, that Ball.
That night, Hardison has some of the best sex of his life. He wakes up to an empty bed and note on the bedside table.
See you in Rio de Janeiro.
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Date: 2009-02-26 07:16 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-07-01 12:32 pm (UTC)