The Twelve Days of Christmas Job

by foxxed

Summary:

When the Red Haze forces Eliot to relive his worst memories, he tries to suppress it by thinking of the Christmases of the past years—ones he spent with his future wife, who is presumed dead.

Eighth Job of the Damsel Verse

Notes:

Plot wise - this will not make sense unless you have read the Damsel Collection, but it would work if you just want to read Eliot treating a woman real nice. Up to you.

Chapter 1: Christmas 2013, New York City

Christmas 2020, New Orleans,

Flanders Group (RIZ)

 

“But if I knew your most traumatic experience, I can just say… ‘Operation Kansas’.”

 

“They call it ‘PTSD in a bottle’.”

 

“Operation Kansas happened at Christmastime, didn’t it? Holidays must be so difficult for you.”

 

“Is that why you’re reluctant to spend them with your father? How long has it been since you saw him last?”

“Don’t,” Eliot gritted. His father’s disappointed face flashed in front of his eyes among the carnage of Operation Kansas. It had been his most traumatic experience – but not he worst thing he had done. That he had done for Damien Moreau. No—he thought, don’t think of that, but it was already too late and screams filled his head.

Think of something calming, he urged himself. Clenching his jaw he thought of the team, of Maria – but in the depths of his disparity he could only find calm thinking of one person.

It had been over a year since he left Brooklyn and hadn’t returned there since. Between the carnage and cries, her face appeared.

Vera.

Six Christmases he had spent with her. This year was the second without her. Not being with her hurt and painful memories of their breakup flashed before his eyes. But he did feel calm as he pictured their first Christmas during her first year of college… when he had sneaked into her dorm.

 

---

 

Christmas 2013, New York City

 

Interestingly he was almost met with a book to his head when he shouldered the door to Vera’s dorm room open.

She had the thick book raised high before she realized who it was and promptly dropped it.

“Oh my god!” she cried with flushed cheeks and jumped into his arms. She still had platinum blonde hair and it was sticking out all directions. Dressed in an oversized NYU sweatshirt; she looked fully the part of a college student. Though she was older than the average student there, it was like she was reclaiming her youth, and Eliot loved seeing it.

Smelling and tasting like eggnog, they finally kissed since the last time they saw each other in September.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured against her lips. “Do we need to put a sock on the doorknob?”

He looked around the room and deduced that her roommate had left to go home for the holidays. Not that it mattered—he had a hotel suite booked where they could disappear in for the next few days, but somehow seeing her so relaxed and casual created an urgency he could not postpone.

One of his hands quickly reached underneath the sweatshirt and he let out a moan at finding bare skin – no panties and no bra. Vera hummed into another kiss.

“El—” she gasped, but before she could try and rationalize it, he squeezed her breasts and with his free hand he hiked her shirt up. Walking her backwards, they hit her bed and together they tumbled onto it.

“Missed you,” he murmured, peppering kisses all over her face. Her body felt solid under him. He didn’t want to admit that he had woken up several times in Australia thinking she had been a figment of his imagination. Parker and Hardison had raised their concerns, but Eliot lucked out that they got distracted by a job involving a surfer. They had invited him to join at Nana’s for Christmas, and though he really was going to miss her pies, being in close proximity of Vera made him not regret the decision.

“Wait—” she insisted and gently placed her falling apart laptop onto the floor.

Eliot stood up, taking in the rumpled sheets and while he thought he had made her flushed from kisses – there was something else going on. He eyed her suspiciously.

“Were you… masturbating?”

She rolled her eyes, which he took as a yes. A smirk spread slowly on his face and she gave his chest a slap. “Stop it.”

“You so were—”

“Lacy finally left and I had the place to myself – and since we can’t have phone sex, I took matters into my own hands.”

“I’m not judging,” he assured, lying down and pulling her on top. Just the thought of her getting herself off made his cock hard. “Were you watching something specifically?”

“N-no,” she stammered and to avoid further questions she crashed their lips together. Eliot wasn’t going to let her get away with that so easily though and in a sneaky move he toppled her onto the bed, grabbing the laptop.

“Let’s see what you’re into—”

“Eliot no!”

And Eliot froze, because he was looking at himself. “What—”

It was a video of him fighting when they did a job years ago involving a gym. He had to take down a whole bunch of men to prove himself and Parker had filmed him to help their case.

“Dammit Hardison,” he said, “He’s supposed to erase this!”

He turned to Vera, who looked so delectable with her sweatshirt hiked up that he almost threw the laptop across the room.

Her chest was heaving in anticipation and with a dry mouth he asked, “You gonna tell me where you found this?” She shook her head.

“No.”

He had hoped she would say that. With a devilish smirk, he put the laptop on the edge of the bed and rested his other hand against her pussy, suppressing a groan at how wet she was.

“Oh!” she gasped before mewling when he removed his hand again.

“You going to tell me?”

“I’m—ah!” His hand was back, teasing her clit. “Eliot…”

“Tell me.” She must have been at it for a while before he arrived as she began to tense up, but he moved away his hand again.

“Eliot Spencer,” she warned, “I started this myself and if you don’t do anything about it, I will finish it.”

Huskily he said, “Would love to watch that,” he moved to spread her legs, “maybe some other time?” As he dove between her legs, Vera’s moan was accompanied with a loud clanging noise. They both looked down to where the laptop had crashed onto the floor, the screen split open to show the hardware underneath. Guiltily he turned back to her. “I guess it’s a good thing I got you a new laptop for Christmas?”

Vera looked at him with large shell shocked eyes.

“You got me whaaa—” She didn’t get to finish her sentence as he quickly distracted her by resuming the task at hand. It barely took a nip at her clit for her to shudder with a climax. But it wasn’t enough to deter her. “I-I didn’t get you anything—” she gasped. “A laptop?! That’s too much.”

Eliot began to make quick work of opening his zipper where his hard cock was throbbing for a release. “Yours was already falling apart,” he grunted, “and all I want for Christmas is you.”

“Don’t fucking quote Mariah Carey-ah!” He didn’t bother taking off any of his clothes, positioning himself in front of her entrance and because she was so turned on, he just slid in.

“Fuck,” they both said, and Eliot covered her mostly naked body with his fully clothed one. He started to move.

“So you were thinking of me?” he whispered hotly in her ear.

“Y-yes.”

“Thinking of this?” He thrust himself deep into her.

“Yes!”

His hand cupped her breast, squeezing it. He never wanted to leave this moment—never leave her. Like an addict he captured her lips, increasing his thrusts at a rapid speed.

There, in a tiny dorm room in New York, Eliot was having the best fuck of his life. Every time he thought he had reached it, Vera surprised him. God, he wished she would join him. He hated that he had to let her go, but he loved that he could reunite with her over and over again.

Though it was freezing outside, he was becoming hotter and hotter under his clothes. He knew it was no use taking them off now—he was too close to coming—and Vera pushed his hair back, gathering it in her fist so she was pulling slightly.

Slowing down, they stared at each other.

“This is what I thought about while getting myself off,” she murmured. “Your face.”

Eliot swallowed, sweat beading on his forehead. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer with a moan. “But also this.”

He gasped.

“Don’t hold back,” she said, “If you want me for Christmas—take me.”

With a grunt, he re-positioned them so she was up against the headboard. His hands kneaded any bare curve, marking her. He wanted her sated, limp and unable to sit the next time she went to class.

“I’m—” she scratched her nails over his scalp, shuddering under him.

He grabbed her thighs to spread them even wider and drilled into her until he couldn’t hold it in anymore, spilling deep inside of her. “Fuck.”

A breathy laugh bubbled out of her. “You can say that again.”

She was flushed red, her sweatshirt still bunched up over her chest, and quivered when he pulled out. Swallowing, he carefully tucked himself away again and rested his hand on her bare thigh as he sat on the bed, Vera now sprawled across it. The afterglow suited her.

He looked around the tiny dorm, his eyes resting on her roommate’s bed.

“You should get your own place,” he thought out loud.

“I don’t mind,” she said with a huff, “It gives it the true college experience.”

“Hm,” he simply sniffed, already planning how to get her something private.

“Stop,” she said and he stilled his hand—he had been absentmindedly stroking her thigh. “Not that,” she said, looking down, “Stop thinking. No interfering with my living situation. That’s a problem for post graduation.”

He sniffed again.

“You didn’t bring a bag,” she murmured softly and Eliot looked at her face. Her beautiful, satisfied face.

“Looking for your Christmas present, are we?”

“I do need a laptop for my essays.” She sat up, pulling her sweatshirt down to his dismay. “You’re staying somewhere else?”

He nodded. “You better pack,” he said, looking around her room, “As you’re my Christmas present, I’m taking you with me.”

Her face split into the brightest smile, before a voice echoed through his mind.

“All you have to do to make it stop, is give me Copperhead,” Bligh said, overlapping the Vera in his Red Haze and pulling him back to the warehouse. “Mr Kelsey has the antidote ready and waiting.” Blinking, Eliot remembered where he was, and why he had been dreaming about Vera and their first Christmas together.

He had to think, he had to act. Pushing Vera to the back of his mind, the Red Haze swallowed her and he missed her already. There was no time, he needed to find something neutral to focus on and distract Bligh from this… Ledger.

The Ledger, he suddenly thought.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rasped, breathing heavily, “It’s… three tablespoons of chopped garlic.” He took a deep breath, the Red Haze backing off slightly. “One teaspoon of smoked paprika—” Vera’s favorite.

Bligh sighed.

“Typical RTI tactics,” she huffed. Eliot continued his chili recipe, but Bligh stood up straight. “We’re going to do it the hard way, then.” She walked away, telling Mr Kelsey, “Give him another dose. Don’t let the drug leave his system.”

Eliot tried to say what was next, but the colors blurring his vision formed snowflakes. The thick, soft flakes reminded him of another Christmas… when it snowed so much he ended up snowed in somewhere in an upstate New York cabin… with Vera.

Chapter 2: Christmas 2014, Upstate New York

Notes:

Tw: a lil bit of body insecurity

Christmas 2014, Upstate New York

 

Snow was falling thickly onto the rental car. Eliot kept increasing his wipers so he could keep an eye on the train station’s exit and not miss anyone entering the looming storm.

He knew it was a risk traveling separately when he sent her the train ticket as a surprise, especially with no digital way of contacting her, but he wanted to prepare the cabin before she arrived. It was already dark, and Eliot was getting worried about the weather—the way the snow was falling was very… distinctive.

Grunting, he switched off the radio, not in the mood for another Michael Bublé song, and patiently tried to distinguish Vera in the crowd. Last September, for their Coney Island anniversary, Vera had been going through some sort of pinup phase. She had complained she could only dye the platinum blonde into a fiery red color and had decided to go full on nineteen forties—victory rolls and all. He had also noticed the added curve to her body, much to his liking.

Finally, in the flurry of snow, he saw her. She was in an inadequate winter coat, her hair pinned up in a forties style, and holding a big umbrella to shield herself. He quickly flashed the headlights of the car before jumping out—the snow hitting him straight away.

“Eliot!” she called, entering the raging storm with a shriek.

“I’m coming!” he grunted and joined her under the umbrella. She looked radiant; her cheeks soft and plump as she smiled. “Hello you,” he murmured. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“It was not this snowy in New York when I left!” she gasped, clinging onto the umbrella for dear life. “What are we doing here?”

Eliot grimaced. He had wanted it to be romantic! The cabin was perfectly cozy—and remote—so he had pulled out all the stops to make their second Christmas as memorable as possible. “Let’s get to the car and I’ll show you,” he said, taking her bag in one hand and looping his other arm around her waist to keep her steady.

They shuffled to the car, Vera letting out a sigh in relief at the heat, and as quick as he could in the snow, Eliot drove them towards the cabin.

“Is this safe?” she asked, looking wearily at the snow falling in even heavier clumps.

“Almost there,” he said with a low voice, trying to keep control of the wheel best he could. This might even be worse than Mt. Kibari, he considered, though he was not getting stuck in an ice cave with Vera.

Through the heavy snowfall, the glowing lights of the cabin became visible—Eliot had left the lights and heat on—and he parked as safely as he could.

“Just need to walk the short distance,” he told her with a grimace, but Vera seemed more than happy to leave the car. “Be careful, there’s lots of ice.”

The umbrella proved itself fruitless once outside, and with absolute stride he watched Vera make her way towards the steps. He had just put her bag over her shoulder when he heard a yelp and a splash.

Panicked, he looked around where the path had been, but Vera was nowhere to be seen.

“Vera?” he called.

“E-E-l-iot!” came back, her teeth chattering. He spotted her, soaked to the bone, hugging herself as she stood back up. “Th-there’s wa-water—be care-careful.”

“Shit, I guess the pond didn’t freeze over,” he said, quickly joining her to help her to the entryway. “It’s warm inside, c’mon.”

It dawned on Eliot that his romantic venture not going according to plan and that they should have just resorted to another hotel in the city, but then he finally got a good look of Vera’s face taking in the cabin. She looked around, her expression wondrous, and she was dripping water all over the floor. Her hairdo was magnificently still dry, the snowflakes clinging onto it melting, and she gawked at him.

“Y-you d-decorated?” she asked, shivering.

He hadn’t done much—the bare minimum by his standards—but the cabin was decked out with lights, mistletoe and a Christmas tree. But none of that mattered with Vera chilled to the bone.

“Let’s warm you up,” he said quickly, reaching to take off her coat but Vera stumbled back.

“I—” she said, biting her lip. “I’m a bit—”

“What?” Eliot frowned. “What’s wrong?” She looked unlike herself, shy almost. He had noticed in September as well that she had been in discomfort, but he had written that off to a tummy bug from a suspicious corn dog at Coney Island. Now she looked straight up embarrassed.

“I…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “I’ve not been—happy.”

His heart dropped and at his face she quickly reassured him. “Not about you! About me! About… my weight.”

Eliot knew his eyes had widened. Never had he expected those words to leave Vera’s mouth. She was a siren to him; everything about her was appealing.

“What—what do you mean?”

She had stopped shivering, the room warming her up slightly but she had to get out of her wet clothes, and fast.

“What’s going on?” he urged again.

Reluctantly she took off her soaked coat, the dress underneath clinging to her curves, and he had to take a deep breath. Sure, she had filled out a bit since Greece, but he wasn’t going to complain—it looked like stress-free weight. Like her body had been waiting for it, craving it. But he had to be gentle; it obviously had become a sore spot.

“I—” she started, then deflated, “I don’t know.” When she moved to hide her protruding belly, Eliot couldn’t help a growl. “Eliot,” she told him off.

“Sorry,” he murmured, finally taking off his own outdoor gear. “I have trouble controlling myself when people dislike things I love.”

“Eliot…” she said again, much softer this time and she was blushing. He approached her, waiting for her to allow him to cup her jaw and pressing their lips together in a kiss when she did.

“Is that all that’s been going on?” he asked, making sure, and Vera looked down shyly. “Okay,” he said, knowing his next steps. “Then I have two options for you.”

With his hands he forced her to look up again, their eyes meeting warmly in the light of the fireplace.

“One,” he continued, “You change into dry, comfortable clothes—and we have a conversation about it on the couch.” He nudged his head to a very inviting looking couch. “Or—” Gently he pushed a loose pin curl out of her face, his other hand moved to her waist and pulled her flush against his body. “You let me show you…” He trailed his lips over a pulse point in her neck. “… just how much I love your body.”

Her breath hitched and she swallowed loudly, saying, “Is there a secret third option where we do neither?”

“No,” he said firmly, “But there’s a fourth option where we do both.”

In one swift movement, he turned her around in his arms so she now too was facing the windowed wall of the cabin. Thick snow was still falling, but their reflections were perfectly clear.

“There’s two reasons I picked this cabin,” he murmured against her skin, his hands hesitating on the zipper on the back of her dress. “There’s no one around us for miles, and I want you naked for as long as possible.” He began to zip it down, and when Vera didn’t protest, he lowered it all the way. The dress was soaked and had to be peeled off her skin until she was in nothing but her underwear. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he said before thinking. Vera had tried to move again to hide her stomach. Instead he rested his hand on it and she gasped. “Words cannot express how much I love this,” he growled, his hand dipping in the waistband of her panties. “The softness, the way it shows that you’re living.”

Their eyes met in the reflection of the window and Vera’s trailed down to where his hand possessively covered her belly.

“You’ve been acing your midterms and essays,” he murmured, “this is not stress related. This is you being alive and I love it.”

To show even more how much he loved it, he nudged his growing erection against her thigh. She gasped, and gasped some more when he undid her bra.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, watching her breasts slowly reveal in the reflection of the window. “You’re strong, but soft.”

Like the Damsel I met in a bank, he thought quietly. With one hand he grasped one of her breasts and the other he caressed her stomach.

“This is telling me you love food, and you know how much I love that.” He pressed a kiss on her shoulder and slowly but steadily, he felt her relax in his arms. Feather light he touched the scar on her waist before rolling down her panties, leaving her to take in her fully bare body in the reflection.

“Eliot,” she said, unsure, but he shook his head, moving to kiss the curve of her neck.

“You’re beautiful,” he insisted, “In any shape, any style—you’re stunning.”

Then, before she could protest, he scooped her up in his arms and walked to towards the door to the back of the cabin, shouldering it open.

“What—” she gasped and then shrieked when the cold hit her.

“I did tell you there were two reasons,” he said and turned a corner where they were met with a cloud of steam. “The second is this.”

He chuckled watching her see the hot tub, and carried her to it, lowering her in the hot scolding water.

Her moan went straight to his cock, and though he wanted to make a show out of undressing himself, the biting cold made him get rid of his clothes in record time. Immediately once he was in the water, he pulled her onto his lap, her pussy grazing over his hard on. Eliot decided that they had done enough talking and that it was time for showing.

He kissed her in a frenzy, his hands roughly kneading any soft piece he could touch. Lifting her up, he took her nipple in his mouth, tugging it, while he pushed his finger into her. The steam billowed around them, creating a fog where they were invisible to the world. She was just his, and he just hers.

Harder than he should, he bit her nipple and Vera cried out in pleasure. His finger worked in and out fast until his aching cock needed release and in a quick seamless movement, he removed his finger and moved her down to sit down right on his dick.

They both shuddered a gasp at his entry.

“Fuck,” he murmured, moving up from her breast to her throat. “Feels so good.”

“Hmmhm,” she agreed, carefully moving up but Eliot was having none of that, forcefully grabbing her by her ass to slam her back down. The water splashed over the edge of the jacuzzi, but neither cared as Eliot set the pace.

“I like something to hold onto,” he said pointedly, surely bruising her hips at that point but it only spurred Vera on to move with him. “So fucking hot.” And then he slapped her ass, causing her to whimper. “I want those thighs around my head as you sit on my face,” he spat, swallowing her moan with a kiss that had way too much tongue.

His body started to get a mind of its on, thrusting up and pulling her down. The noises escaping her throat were getting loud and uncontrollable.

“You can be loud, beautiful,” he said, “No one around for miles, remember?”

And Vera threw her head back, leaving her throat bare for Eliot to mark. He felt her squeeze around his cock as she came and he smiled in satisfaction. Upon coming back down, she rested her forehead against his, smiling broadly and looking utterly spent. Her hands found their way into his hair and he knew she knew what was coming.

“Hold on,” he murmured and she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging onto him as he began to drill into her at a rapid speed. The warm water sloshed around them and he thrust without abandon. Another high pitched wail got swallowed in the steam and at the same time they came, both gasping for air.

Gently he slipped out of her, but kept her firmly on his lap. A smirk formed on his lips and Vera playfully slapped his chest. Her previously immaculate hairdo had limp curls falling all around her beautiful face.

“This is exactly what you had in mind when you booked this place,” she accused.

“Absolutely,” he confessed, kissing her and roaming his hands over her body. He felt her mood shift and he forced her to look at him again.

“Did you mean it?” she whispered. “You like me, even with a few extra kilos?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said, “You’re no longer in a flight or fight situation. You’re a college student, you’re… you’re becoming you.” He nudged her chin up and pulled her into a kiss. “If any of these insecurities keep popping up, I’ll just have to make you come again.”

Vera seemed to consider the offer, and said, “Well these have become a bit more… prominent.” She raised up slightly, her breasts appearing above the waterline.

“Don’t you fucking dare—” Eliot growled, his cock twitching with interest again.

“I mean, others have noticed,” she whispered against his lips. “Other men taking… interest.”

Oh he did not like that, he realized—he did not like that at all.

“They try,” she continued, so close to kissing him but refraining. “Asking me for late night study sessions—”

“And what do you tell them?” he said with a low voice, his fingers digging into her flesh.

“That I have a boyfr—” He cut her off with a kiss. She was a minx with ridiculous insecurities, and he was going to make her forget that and any other man that tried all night.

He took her back into the cabin, wrapped in towels, and they didn’t even sleep until the morning when they later woke to the cabin snowed in.

“Well,” Eliot said, walking naked into the kitchen, “We have enough provisions that should keep us fed at least into the new year.”

Vera smiled from the couch, cozy under a blanket. “Are you going to make me some chili?”

He chuckled, because of course he was. He even walked her through the recipe.

“You don’t use corn starch,” he told her, “You use—”

---

“—Corn masa…” he said breathlessly, Vera once again disappearing into Red Haze. It was like he was hit by a biting version of Empfinium—while Empfinium was dreamy and sluggish, Red Haze was like a venom. He could manipulate the Empfinium, but the Red Haze just forced him to relive the memories.

He needed to get out of there.

Mr Kelsey had his back to him and Eliot realized it was now or never. He straightened himself up on the chair, knowing the quality of the wood would not survive what he had in mind, and forward tumbled over—the chair breaking upon impact.

With shock on his face, Mr Kelsey was still holding a syringe and Eliot didn’t take any chances of getting dosed with more. A scuffle later, he left the goon with the syringe in his thigh and a nose that was broken.

It was too much to bear and the second he left the room, he collapsed against the wall.

“Spencer, hang on!” a voice called—the librarian maybe? “I’m almost done.”

But Eliot was slipping back, the Red Haze consuming him, and rather seeing Vera—he heard a familiar parental figure.

Chapter 3: New Year’s Eve 2015, Nana’s House

New Year’s Eve 2015, Nana’s House

 

“What you sulking about, boy?”

Nana’s stern voice pulled Eliot out of his daydreaming.

He had arrived yesterday from New York—per Hardison’s nagging. Somehow Hardison had gotten it in his mind that Eliot was being lonely during Christmas on purpose, even though he had spent it with Vera, and made him join them for New Year’s Eve at least.

It wasn’t the first time he was at Nana’s, but somehow she always made him feel like his eighteen year old self again—right before he joined the army.

“I’m not sulking,” he said defiantly.

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” she snapped back, “You hung up on some girl?”

He gritted his teeth to shush her, but it was too late—Parker and Hardison had already heard from the living room and raced to the kitchen.

“I’m not—” he said, but his best friends stared at him with wonder and concern.

“Is this a girl who you ran off to during Christmas?” Hardison asked immediately.

“No.”

“Eye twitch, he’s lying,” Parker said, watching his micro expressions intensely.

“I’m not lying!”

“That’s an awfully high pitched voice,” Hardison noted, “You must like this girl if you don’t want us to know about her.”

“Wait,” Parker said, suddenly somber, “Is it—is it because you feel guilty about Ver—”

“Don’t,” Eliot grunted, closing his eyes. He could not live with her name leaving her mouth.

Nana rolled her eyes and walked away. “I know it’s about some girl,” she muttered.

“It’s n—” the lie burned on his tongue and before he could leave, Parker and Hardison blocked his path to the living room. All of the other kids were running amok outside, definitely not playing with fireworks Hardison had gotten them, leaving them alone in the house.

“Eliot,” Parker said gently and he hated that he could evoke this empathy out of her when it came to Vera. “We know it’s hard.”

“It’s—” he tried, but Hardison swooped in.

“It’s been two years,” he murmured, “You can still be grieving but also find love with a new person.”

“N-no,” he tried, “There’s no one.”

Neither of them seemed to believe it.

“You know,” Hardison said, “I always pictured her with us. Vera, I mean.”

“Oh god—” Eliot cast his eyes to the ceiling, which Hardison only took more as an invitation to open up.

“She’d be like a Sophie, but—I don’t know—softer? I, uh, still have some of her footage in Greece—”

Eliot’s head snapped back. “You what?”

Hardison physically backed away at his sudden intensity.

“I— You know me,” he said sheepishly, “I say I delete everything but I usually keep—”

“Dammit, Hardison.”

Suddenly he had grabbed him by the collar. “Having her even exist beyond 2011 risks Hollindare’s case being overturned. He can’t—”

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” Hardison tried.

“It’s not, Hardison!” Eliot shouted and he heard Parker get ready to intervene. She knew he wasn’t planning on hurting him, but he was still holding him. He needed to tap into somewhere that would not raise suspicion that he was worried Hollindare would be released whilst she was off living her best life. Nor did he ever want to risk Hardison to try and look for her. Hardison thought her real name was Gwen Klein, not realizing it was actually Guinevere. He could not risk it. So he needed to break down.

“Hardison, please…” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “She’s not coming back,” he wailed, chest heaving. “She—she’s… gone.”

He was wrapped in a hug from both sides and he let it happen. Truly, he felt awful—but he had promised the girl he loved a normal life. And he loved his friends too much to let them chase a ghost.

“I can’t let her keep ruling my life,” he said, both his friends squeezing him. “Please—let her go. I have to let her go, you have to—”

“We will,” Parker said soberly, and Eliot knew she would convince Hardison. Anything to rip off this band-aid and not let the wound fester again.

“I need a minute,” he murmured and freed himself from their embrace. Grunting, he opened the back door and stormed into the garden. It wasn’t the first time he had trouble lying to his friends; he knew they only wanted what was best for him. But this was something he simply could not screw up. Then he realized he wasn’t alone outside.

“Why you keeping secrets from my foster son?” Nana said, who was extinguishing a cigarette that Hardison definitely didn’t know about.

“Same to you,” he grunted, nodding at the cigarette.

With a shrug, Nana lit up a new one and stood next to him, the both of them looking up at the sky where fireworks sparked.

“So who’s this girl?”

“She’s…” Eliot trailed, feeling again like he was a teen and unable to lie. “Special.”

“Then why the sulk?”

Closing his eyes, he remembered Vera talking about her internship at a publisher last week. The way she talked about her colleagues, friends—she had never appeared more distant from his life.

It had been two years, her degree was coming to an end. He was scared once she joined a company, she would never consider joining the team—joining him. She, in return, didn’t seem to want to ask him to stay. He guessed they both were dealing with fear of rejection, so their long distance dance continued.

“She…” he told Nana, “…we don’t want the same things.”

“Bullshit,” she said straight away.

“She’s living a whole life and I don’t know where I fit in,” he confessed.

“Bullshit,” she said again, “You’re sharing life, not squeezing into it.”

He clenched his jaw. How were they to share something so fragile?

“You listen to me, boy,” she said sternly, “Is this girl worth a sacrifice?”

He was taken aback by the question, but found himself truthfully answering, “Yes.”

“Then quit your sulking and make sure she feels the same as you.” She took a final draw of her cigarette. “And gather the kids, please—I know that Breanna rigged up some kind of firework contraption and I don’t condone arson.”

She slapped his cheek, and he felt it through the Red Haze as he sank down the wall of the warehouse.

“Hey, hey, hey, c’mon,” the librarian called, hoisting him up. A second maybe had passed since he slipped away. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

His arm was looped around Blanche’s shoulder and through his blurry vision, he noticed he was dressed differently. He looked like he was dressed exactly like the other RIZ goons.

“Uniform?” he asked, which was met with a soft chuckle.

“New guy.” That made sense, Eliot thought. Only new guys would have—

“Shined shoes.”

“Bingo.”

“Weapon?”

Blanche held up what looked like a sock. “Improvised snow globe.” His creativity confirmed he was indeed a spy of some sort, but Eliot needed this Red Haze out of his system before he would slip again.

“Exit?”

The familiar sound of a vent grid opening and Parker slipping from it gave him peace in knowing that his family had come to save him. The need to protect them pushed the Haze further away and he grabbed one of the chair legs still stuck to his arm to defend them with.

“Parker, exit,” he groaned and Parker hoisted him up on his other side.

“Loading docks,” she said swiftly, “Just a straight shot up across three junctions and then down a teeny-tiny chute.” Eliot knew she was suppressing her excitement to go through it and he felt Blanche stiffen a bit.

“Yeah,” Eliot huffed to him, “I’m not crazy about it either, but she knows her vents.”

It was the last he managed to say before a scent in the air heightened the Red Haze again and swallowed him like the ocean, drowning out his cries to stay awake before spitting him out again to another memory.

The scent had been moldy and damp and had taken him to the first time he had shown Vera her new home—in Brooklyn.

Chapter 4: Christmas 2016, The Loft, Brooklyn

Christmas 2016, The Loft, Brooklyn

“Keep ‘em closed,” Eliot said, guiding Vera into the large open space with his hands covering her eyes.

“I swear if all these years have been an elaborate con to get rid of me, I will kick your ass,” she mumbled, hands out blindly. She was breathing in deeply to figure out where she was by the smell. Eliot knew it must be slightly damp, but that was because he didn’t want to present her with a brand new apartment—as he knew she never would accept it. The loft, however, was perfect; it was large, private and ideally located now that she had graduated. Eliot had purchased it cash, making it untraceable even for Hardison, and was ready to move her in as soon as tomorrow—should she want to.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I will knee you in the balls—”

He took that as a yes and removed his hands. Quickly he moved so he could see her reaction and watched her eyes go big, then confused and eventually on him.

“What’s this place?”

“It’s…” He swallowed, thinking now or never. “It’s yours if you want.”

Predictably her eyes went even bigger, the seventies style eyeliner emphasizing her shock. Still rocking the hippy look, she was dressed in oranges and browns, the textures suede and faux furs, and her hair was long and ginger. It wasn’t quite her, but she seemed to be having fun with it.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, baffled.

“To rent!” he said quickly, “It’s via a friend, and rent controlled.” Lies, lies, lies, but he didn’t want her money to be wasted on some scumbag landlord. Any rent she would pay would go straight back into her student loan paybacks—he just wanted her safe.

“What…” She looked around, taking in the exposed brick walls and large windows. “I…” Her big eyes returned to him. “You’d… you’d be okay with me staying in New York?”

Eliot frowned. “Yeah, if you don’t mind Brooklyn. Why? Were you eyeing a new city? Or country?”

“No!” she said straight away, “I’m not done with New York quite yet.”

“But?”

She tugged her long hair sheepishly. “I don’t know why… but I always thought you indulged me by letting me do my degree. I always assumed you had expectations for when I was done studying.”

He swallowed—because annoyingly he did have expectations. He had hoped that, after she’d graduate, she and him would go around the world together. That she would feel comfortable enough to let Parker and Hardison know she was alive. But then he remembered Nana’s words about sacrifice, and he could sacrifice another year or two—with the hope she would do the same for him when the time came.

“If you’re not done yet,” he murmured, “then you’re not done.”

A beat.

Then he was pushed against a brick wall and Vera was kissing him. Sometimes he forgot how naturally strong she was, so perfectly capable at disarming anyone—he was just happy she mostly disarmed him with kisses. Instinctively he kissed her back, enjoying the soft plush of her lips and at the same time they opened up to let their tongues glide over each other.

His lips were swollen when she pulled back. “Wha—what was that for?” He was breathing heavily. “‘M not complaining but—”

“It’s for giving me the greatest gift,” she said, her lips just as kiss-bruised as his and damn if he didn’t want to keep going at it.

“The apartment?” he asked, confused but also elated.

“No,” she said, playing with the beads he had braided in his hair before giving him another peck. “Freedom.” She moved her hand to rest it on his heart, breathing against his lips, “Safety.”

Her body was plastered against his, her hands continuing to roam, and her lips once again connected with his.

He grabbed her waist with one hand and her jaw with the other, deepening the kiss.

“I wish,” she gasped, “I could give you something in return.”

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, capturing her lower lip between his teeth and tugging it gently. “You already are.”

By simply existing, he thought, the rest can come later.

Vera, however, interpreted it that he wanted more of what they were doing—and he wasn’t going to complain about that either.

The sun was setting on the Winter clad skyline, illuminating the loft, and them, with a soft golden hour. Deft hands rid him of his jacket and Vera moved to worship his throat with her mouth. His Adam’s apple bopped at the soft nips and sucks, her tongue eventually licking a broad stripe from his clavicle up to his ear.

He wasn’t used to being the one pushed against the wall and no self restrain could stop the whimpers leave his mouth. A kiss was pressed on the birthmark between his jaw and his cheek.

“There’s a tale,” she murmured, “that beauty marks appear where you were kissed by a loved one in your past life.” She kissed it again.

“I’m sure you’re responsible for that one in my past life then,” he chuckled indulgently.

“Yes,” she said determined, “and responsible for it in your next life.”

He smiled and then bit his lip. “You not getting hot in that?” he said, referring to her coat. As soon as she shrugged it off, he quickly flipped them so she was against the wall.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” she gasped, raising her leg and pushing him away with her knee in his stomach. He grabbed her flared jeans-clad calf, quickly admiring the high platforms, before dropping it.

There wasn’t any furniture in the loft, leaving them ample room to spar. Eliot’s goal was to get his arms around her waist, but she dodged him with a smile on her face.

Clothes were discarded as they battled for the upper hand and Eliot revelled in the similarity of their first night together back in Boston. He had rid himself of his shirt and undershirt whilst Vera was still sporting a bra. Neither had taken off their pants.

With a grunt he was once again pressed against a wall, the bricks rough against his bare back. Her arm was against his throat and her other hand grazed over his nipple, making him involuntarily spasm. A manic gleam glazed over Vera’s eyes.

“Oh…” she murmured, and pressed on it again, the sensation thickening his cock. “Oh hello.”

Unable to say anything, Eliot gasped when she bent down to nip at it and though she slackened her arm on his throat, he didn’t push back—too turned on to continue their dance.

Her nails scratched over his skin and she reached to remove his belt with one hand. He thudded his head against the wall as her hand slid into his jeans and stroked him through his boxers.

Just as she went to move down onto her knees, Eliot regained strength in his arms and hoisted her up.

“Not going to have you on the floor until it’s clean,” he grumbled. He kissed away her pout and swiftly turned them around so she was up against the wall.

“Eliot,” she gasped as his hands roamed over her body, removing her bra, and she pressed her breasts against him. Her hair was in disarray, her lips swollen and there was a slight red burn from his scruff. But it didn’t stop him from capturing her lips again though and he returned the favor by undoing her belt and fly. His hand, too, dipped into her panties and they moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Want you,” she breathed against his lips. “Please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice and frantically they took off her flared jeans, panties and platform shoes. Impatiently, Eliot kept his pants on, taking out his already leaking and hard cock.

“C’mere,” he murmured, picking her up, her legs around his hips, and leveraging her against the wall. “This is one way of christening the new place.”

She laughed, which morphed into a moan as he entered her. “Oh!”

He started to thrust, holding on to her hips and loving the noises she was making. It echoed around the empty loft, together with the slaps of their bodies meeting. As his thrusts became more erratic, he grew conscious of the rough brick against her back. So with a growl, he released her legs around his waist and she mewled when he pulled out of her.

“Turn around, bend over,” he commanded, “hands on the wall.”

He stroked himself, almost coming at her keenness at following his orders. She arched her back, her ass perked up high and ready for him, but he didn’t enter her again just yet. Instead he roamed his hands from the Venus dimples on her back all the way up her spine and grabbed her long ginger hair in one fist. She was trembling with anticipation.

“Eliot,” she pleaded.

He hummed. “Just deciding where I want a beauty mark on your body for your next life.” His free hand cupped her dangling breast and he kneaded it. “I know there will be one there.” Slightly he tugged her hair and she looked at him. “And I know I’m responsible for all the freckles on your nose.” She scrunched said nose and he let go of both her breast and her hair, repositioning himself behind her. “I’ll have to find a spot only I can see.” He lowered his pants further and slid in with one smooth move. Thrusting even deeper than before, he made it his mission to let any surrounded neighbors know that the tall Dutch woman with a varying sense of fashion was very much taken by making her scream.

“So—damn—perfect,” he growled, slamming into her with every word. Once again he grabbed her hair and pulled her up so she was arching her back even more. He gave no warning, flattening her against the wall with his body whilst still inside. She gasped at the sudden coldness of the brick against her nipples. His face was buried in the crook of her neck and shoulder, their breaths mingling loudly.

God, he loved their physical relationship. He loved everything about her, but especially how much they matched on want and need. Every visit was frantic, and he had know damn well that it was likely they were going to have sex in the loft straight away when he took her there. Vera didn’t seem to mind, not with a new confidence in her soft body.

“Definitely a beauty mark here,” he murmured and kissed the curve of her shoulder.

She let out a shuddering chuckle. “Am I just going to be freckled all over?”

He knew she was joking, but he was damn serious when he pulled out and thrust back in again, whispering to answer her question with a, “Yes.”

“Fuck,” she swore, and he batted the hand she tried to sneak to her clit away.

“Hands on the wall, I’ll take care of that.”

She flattened her forearms against the wall to protect her face, leaning against them, and spread her legs a bit wider. As promised, his hand sneaked down and cupped the mound to her pussy. She was slick wet and her body contorted at even the lightest of touches on her clit.

He allowed her to bend over a bit more, giving him better access to thrust without losing momentum, and he picked up the pace in sync with rubbing her clit.

“Oh!” she gasped, already coming. “Fuck, Eliot!”

He could only grunt, not stopping to even breathe, and his groin hit her ass hard with every slam. He wanted nothing more than to come all over her ass and back, but he knew they didn’t have anything to clean her off with in the loft just yet.

Maybe after the move… and the thought was enough to make him spill deep inside of her at the same time he made her come another time.

“Holy shit,” she murmured, still shaking. “Well… the flat is properly christened.”

Chuckling darkly, he slipped out of her and hoisted up his pants to tuck his cock away. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him and caressing her body with his hands. She sighed into the embrace and dropped her head limp against his shoulder.

Kissing her temple, he murmured, “Another mark here.”

“You’re going to have to let me pick some new marks on you too,” she said.

“Maybe later,” he promised, “For now I have prepped a Christmas picnic for us to enjoy here on the floor. Blanket is in the bag.”

“I love a prepared man,” she said and turned around in his arms to kiss him openly again. “Oh! I’ll have to go thrifting for furniture.”

“Just don’t pick up anything from the side of the street because—”

“Bedbugs,” she finished his sentence. “I’m a bigger New Yorker than you, you know.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, kissing her. “You’re still very European to me.”

She rolled her eyes and got dressed as he spread out the blanket and displayed the feast he made—which were quite spectacular turkey sandwiches.

He sat down on it, watching her pull on her sweater over her head, and as he laid down on his back—the Red Haze spat him out to present day where he was on the floor of the food truck, Sophie tenderly caressing his face.

“He kept having some kind of episodes,” Parker said, gesturing for Breanna to start driving. “I thought that maybe he got drugged with Empfinium—”

“It’s Red Haze, a sister to the Lavender Haze,” Blanche said, “It heightens the senses and memories, they used trigger words—”

“What did they say?” Sophie asked, urgently. The truck began to move.

“O—”

“Don’t!” Eliot exclaimed, agony rushing through his veins and Sophie tightened her grip on his head. The pressure of it mimicked a pain he had felt three years ago, when he had been barely able to move through the anguish but had pushed through to fulfill his need to see—“Vera…”

Chapter 5: Christmas 2017, The Loft, Brooklyn

Notes:

Bit of talk about injuries, but y'all know Eliot...

Christmas 2017, The Loft, Brooklyn

 

Fuck, Eliot groaned mentally, everything hurts.

He was hoisting himself up the stairs to the loft, a grunt with each step. His body was more bruise than skin but he knew his journey would be worth it the second he saw her face.

That was until he heard music once he was at the door.

“Fuck,” he swore, out loud this time. Just as he was about to call Vera on his phone, the door actually opened and the loud music overstimulated his already aching head.

“Holy shit!” Vera exclaimed and rapidly closed the door behind her. Eliot let out a sigh of relief; she looked like home. With her hair still in dark waves and the red dress with a petticoat poofing the skirt, she looked like a fifties starlet. Her arms were hidden by long black gloves and her lips were as red as her dress.

He had named this look the vixen in his head.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, keeping her voice down even though the music was loud enough. Gently she stroked his hair out of his face and winced at seeing the growing bump on his forehead. “I thought you were staying in Panama?”

“Surprise!” he groaned and collapsed against the wall. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Oh, Eliot,” she sighed, cupping his cheeks with her gloved hands. He shut his eyes as she continued her inspection, knowing he was looking like hell. “What happened?”

He let out a grunt. “Some druglord… one who could afford actual decent security.” Laughter bubbled from behind the door, together with a ‘Where’s Gwen?’.

“You having a party?” he groaned.

“Just a get together because someone let me believe I was going to spend Christmas alone.”

He chuckled before trailing off, clutching his side. It had been the plan – staying with his buddy Dr Paul Orozco in Panama before he would go set up his clinic. They had been doing a quick recon and got cornered by the target. Eliot had taken most of the brute force, but they managed to complete their mission. Dr Paul had patched him up—and how he had sneaked back to New York had even been a mystery to him but all he remembered was this urge to see her.

“I missed you,” he said, truthfully. Their eyes locked with each other and it made the air so thick it could cut with a knife.

He wanted to wrap himself around her and not let go.

Then the sound of broken glass made them turn to the door and someone yelled for Vera. Eliot swallowed.

“I guess this is not the best look for your friends to meet me,” he murmured and gestured to his battered state. He expected her to wince, to apologize, but instead she had a calculating look.

“I can’t kick them out without raising suspicion,” she said, eyeing a window behind him. “Is it very cold outside?”

He startled. “You’re sending me away?”

“No,” she said immediately, “The fire escape goes to my bed area, I’ll go back inside and open the window for you and you stay quietly there.”

The loft didn’t have a bedroom – there were only curtains separating the area, but Eliot reckoned he could be quiet enough. He just wished he wasn’t injured because it was going to hurt like a bitch.

“Can’t you—” he tried but she shook her head.

“Naughty boyfriends who don’t call ahead of time have to get in via the fire escape.”

He let out a growl, but not so much at being forced to go via the window – it was the word ‘boyfriend’. What was he? A teenager? They might have been together for four years now but he never labeled each other as such. Vera was not his girlfriend—she was… more.

With a shrieking sound, the window was opened by Vera and she nudged her head. “I’ll go open the one on my side.”

His body protested at contorting himself to a pretzel to fit through and the New York freeze hit him like an icy slap.

“I’ll be quick!” Vera assured, closing the window behind him and disappearing. Trying not to slip, Eliot slid his way to the window that was curtained off.

“Boyfriend,” he huffed, his breath mere fog. It didn’t take long for the curtain to be pulled back and Vera’s glamorous face reappeared.

With another shriek the window opened and the heat he felt was a lot more welcoming than the cold. The music was even louder once he climbed inside, but it muffled the groans of pain he couldn’t keep suppressed.

Gentle hands helped him straighten up and Vera closed the window as soon as he was inside.

In the confines of the curtained off bed area, all the noise disappeared as their eyes met. He leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss but was met with a gloved hand.

“Lipstick,” she murmured and he growled against her hand, making her giggle. “Can’t go back with my lipstick smudged all over my face, I know how you kiss.”

He knew she did, but he very much wanted to show it to her. Instead she gently rested their foreheads together before removing her hand. He basked in her perfume—it smelled like a boozy jazzclub. Cognac and cigars. She smelled like home.

“Go lie down, rest, and stay quiet,” she whispered and kissed his lips so quickly before moving away that he didn’t have a chance to react. She looked over her shoulder and winked, disappearing through a slit in the curtains.

He heard her tell someone, “Sorry, got a bit unwell—needed some fresh air!”

This left Eliot battered, bruised – and alone. Merely a curtain between him and Vera’s life. Why had he expected to find her just reading on the couch?

Suddenly he could not bare knowing she was just living her life without him. But wasn’t he doing the same to her?

He shrugged off his coat and shoes, undressing just to his undershirt and boxers. His head hit her pillow where the distinct scent of her shampoo lingered on, consuming him into sleep.

It felt like only seconds had passed before he woke again, this time to a completely silent loft. Overhead lights illuminated the space and he could hear just one person shuffle around, which turned out to be Vera as she opened the curtain.

“Just checking on my patient,” she said, smiling broadly, “Nurse Vera at your service.” She was carrying a first aid kit.

“Did everybody leave?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah, I put some fear into them that it was going to snow and they would be stuck in Brooklyn until January,” she said nonchalantly, walking up to him. He sat up, moving slowly to the edge of the bed and Vera’s poofy dress caressed his knees. “How are you feeling?” Her gloved hands pushed back his hair and he closed his eyes, savoring being with her. She audibly grimaced at seeing the bump again. “I can get you some ice for that, but let’s clean some of your cuts first.”

“I’m sorry,” he couldn’t help but murmur and opened his eyes again. “Completely crashed your party.”

She tutted. “There’s no one I would rather spend my time with than you. They were just… around.” Rummaging through the first aid kit, she continued, “I don’t mind being Gwen. Or Guinevere. But it’s not quite…”

“You?” he murmured. It had been four years now, visiting a different variant of her every time, and she still wasn’t herself. She retrieved a bottle from the kit.

“I don’t know what I’m missing,” she said with a frown, “College was good, found my passion for book editing. Brooklyn has been home more than any other place I’ve lived before. Style wise, hmm—” She looked at her gloves. “It still feels like a costume.”

Reaching up, Eliot took her wrists and held them. “When do you feel most like you?” he murmured. When their eyes met, the answer hovered heavily between them.

With you.

He knew it was.

Carefully, he pinched the tip of one of the glove’s fingers and slid it off her arm. He did the same with the other.

“Trying to get me naked, are we?” She smirked and soaked a cotton ball with alcohol. “Hmm,” she pondered after a second. “You might get your wish. Can’t move in this dress.” She turned around. “Unzip me?”

The cheeky smirk she tried to suppress right before presenting him the back of her dress told Eliot that she might have been lying. The reason why became apparent enough when the dress slid down her body and revealed an equally red lingerie set with a suspender belt and—

“Stockings?” he gulped with a dry mouth.

The sheer fabric hugging her legs had a seam down the center and she kicked the dress away with her red heels. When she turned around, he felt faint with the blood rushing to his groin at rapid speed.

“You…” He swallowed what felt like razors in his throat. The fabric of her bra was see through and he could make out the peaks of her nipples.

“Much better,” she said airily, firmly putting one leg between his and leaning in closely to resume her task of cleaning his cuts. It also meant he was met with an eye full of her breasts.

He was being tended to by a goddess and he was growing a hard on. Though he was confused why she was wearing it, because while she dressed for herself—this seemed very catered towards him… or…

Whilst she continued cleaning and humming Christmas carols, he wrecked his brain thinking about who was at her party. Were there any men there?

“What is causing that deep frown over there,” Vera murmured and grazed over his face between his brows with a red lacquered nail.

He just growled, but she grabbed his chin to make him look up.

“Are we just grinchy because of the pain or is there something else?” Her lips were thin and her eyes stern. Like she could see right through him that it wasn’t pain related. Her confidence had grown massively versus three years ago when she shyly had tried to hide her body.

“I…” he trailed off before manning up, “I was expecting you alone.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, “You got me alone now.”

“You know what I mean,” he said gruffly, “and not wearing…” He gestured to her lingerie.

“I mean if you expected me naked, I’m sure we speed things up,” she joked but he felt the need to explain himself.

“I just—you’re—” He let out a grunt, mumbling, “Other men.”

Her red lips formed a perfect ‘o’.

“Oh,” she said. “You think I wouldn’t wear this for myself?” She adjusted her weight from one foot to another. He swallowed, and then she said, “Because you’re right.”

His eyes widened and before he could do or say anything, she crowded in on him.

“My plan was to wear this for you,” she said, leaning forward and kissing his birthmark on his cheek. “But I didn’t know when I was going to see you again, so I wore it today,” Her lips hovered over his but she didn’t kiss him, “with the plan to, later on…” she moved to his ear and whispered in it, “take lots of pictures in it as I get myself off, thinking of you.”

He gulped, his cock twitching at the mere image of it.

“Vera…”

She pulled back, pouting at him. “And as you’re all banged up, I might have to resort to that anyway. But at least you’ll get a live show?”

“Like hell I’m not participating,” he growled, knowing full well he was not in any shape or form to do anything majorly intensive. It didn’t stop him from grabbing her ass cheek and pulling her against him, snapping the strap of her suspender belt and relishing in her yelp.

Finally she kissed him—dirty and open mouthed, not caring about her lipstick anymore. Her nails found their way under his undershirt and he hissed when she caressed a bruise. He was too slow to play it off as she pulled back in alarm, quickly helping him take off his shirt and the injuries becoming even more apparent.

“Oh, Eliot,” she said mournfully and Eliot could feel his chances of getting lucky slipping away. “I’m sorry I made you go through the window!”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, “I should have called ahead.”

She tipped his head up by his chin and gently moved his hair out of his face. Worry marred hers, her lipstick slightly smudged and a watery look in her eyes.

“Hey, hey…” he said softly, taking and kissing her hand. “I’m okay. I take the beating to help those that can’t.”

Her eyes darted away, unsure of what to do with that information. A big fat tear rolled down her cheek and he quickly reached up to but she was pulling away.

“I, uh,” she swallowed loudly, “I should clean up and let you rest and—” Just as she was about to turn, Eliot wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close whilst still sitting on the bed.

“I’m not letting this special outfit go to waste,” he insisted, nudging his half hard cock against her and grabbing her by the neck. He swallowed her protest with a kiss. Her presence was intoxicating and he captured her lower lip between his teeth. Just being here made his agonizing trip worth it, especially when she moaned into his mouth when he slid his other hand into her red panties.

“Incorrigible,” she sighed, towering over him. “But if we’re doing this, I’m in charge here.”

“I—” Eliot started but she covered his mouth with her hand.

“You can take a beating but not let me take control?” she asked. At the growl against her hand, she tutted, “Oh I don’t think so. Either you let me set the pace or we are watching The Holiday with tubs of ice cream.”

Eliot had to admit that didn’t sound too bad, but maybe for later, and so he nodded in agreement to her terms.

“Good,” she murmured, removing her hand and backing away a little so he had a full view of her glorious body. She spread her legs slightly, popping her hip—as if she was testing his restraint, and he knew she was when she let her hands wander over her own body.

Live show, she had said. He was so fucked—and her smirk proved that had been her aim. Mostly naked and with his body covered in bruises, Eliot could only think about his dick getting painfully stiff. He wasn’t sure how much teasing he could take, but then Vera seemed just as impatient and she sunk down on her knees.

“Let me take care of you,” she murmured, reaching for the waistband of his boxers and sliding it down his legs so he was completely nude. There he was in Brooklyn, hard as a rock with a goddess in red between his legs—he wasn’t quite sure how he managed to deserve that.

Then she licked a wide stripe up his cock.

“Fuck,” he swore before he could stop himself and she took it only as encouragement, teasing the tip with her tongue. He let his head drop backwards, leaning on his hands to not try and guide her, but god did he want to sink his hand into those perfectly soft waves and set the pace.

He knew one look at her would make him come prematurely, and even imagining it in his head made his legs tremble. No, he had to make this last.

Her lips wrapped around the tip and heat swallowed him, making him whimper. She took him deeply, fast, fast and then slow. He felt her hand wrap around the base, squeezing it and stroking in tandem with her mouth’s movements. It was like she was trying to purposely make him come fast.

His head snapped up at the realization and she almost won when he saw the sight; Vera, lips red and swollen, sucking his cock like it was the biggest privilege ever bestowed upon her. With a pop she released him, smiling widely now that he was looking at her.

“You little—” he started, but she immediately dove back in, hallowing her cheeks as she took him whole. His hips bucked up involuntarily and she gagged slightly, her eyes watering.

Slowly he forgot his bruises, forgot how he got them even, and relished being in his little bubble with Vera. As he felt that the cards were off the table, he reached to push her hair out of her face and she released him, with a trickle of saliva still connecting her lips to his cock.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “So good to me.”

The praise made her smile again. “This is so much better than a party,” she said. “Now let me make you come, dammit.” She gave his belly a gentle push so he laid down flat on the bed and he stared at the ceiling, her lips once again hot on his cock.

Her movements became erratic, her hand squeezing and stroking whilst she sucked. It was a blowjob like no other he had ever received. He felt his body slowly come to terms that he could relax, that he could let go—especially with the orgasm that was building up.

She did that, he thought.

She allowed him to let go.

And with a well timed squeeze and lick, he let out a grunt. “Gonna—gonna come—” He sat up and Vera didn’t move away, rapidly jerking him off and opening her mouth to take his load. The intensity of the release made him see stars—or maybe that was the lack of blood to his head?—and his legs quivered as it ebbed away.

He was breathing heavily, staring at Vera standing up straight, still in her ridiculously sexy lingerie, and he let out a shudder.

With her thumb she wiped the corner of her mouth, the lipstick truly and well gone now, and she smirked.

“Happy Holidays,” she said with a wink.

“Incorrigible,” he echoed what she had said about him.

“Hmhm,” she hummed and kissed him slowly and leisurely. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.” He expected her to want reciprocation, but instead she gently helped him lay in her bed. “Rest,” she murmured, “I’m not going anywhere.”

With another wink over her shoulder, she walked through the slit in the curtains, her ass perfectly jiggling with each step.

A sharp pain made him twitch and he looked down at his arm, where in the crook of his elbow a cannula was attached.

“What—” he mumbled, sluggishly, and then Sophie appeared, offering him a beer.

He was back in headquarters, sitting in a chair fully dressed—he wasn’t naked post-coitus with Vera.

Vera.

Stop thinking about her, he scolded himself. Instead he looked around at several pairs of worried eyes.

“The saline bag should flush out most of that Red Haze,” Blanche said and Eliot didn’t like the sound of ‘most’. The beer bottle in his hand was shaking slightly, but not enough to be noticeable to the team—or at least so he thought. He distracted them by telling that Bligh was not going to stop and zoned out most of what Blanche was saying.

Sophie came up with an idea to copy the Ledger and he tried to participate but the words were just filler. He knew he should tap out of the job—he was not in the right mindset, but the team was counting on him, so he put his hope on the saline bag.

He almost spoke up when Breanna mentioned the office park of torture and no matter how out of action he was, he would keep them away from there even if it killed him. The thought of RIZ dosing any of them with Red Haze made his mouth taste metallic. What if they triggered Parker with her childhood? Or Sophie with Nate’s passing?

Fuck, he thought—he was triggering the Red Haze again with the mere mention of Nate. He blinked himself out of it, trying to focus on Harry and Parker talking about some party and a conveniently acquired dress.

“Um, I bought it,” Parker said with a scoff after she was questioned where she got the dress from. “Got some jewelry for you too.” She held up a few golden pieces.

Eliot gritted his teeth, realizing the Red Haze was so strong by just seeing the gold, it triggered another memory—specifically the Christmas he acquired a golden ring…

Notes:

*blows kiss*

Chapter 6: Christmas 2018, DUMBO, Brooklyn

 

Christmas 2018, DUMBO, Brooklyn

 

“I can’t believe you made me watch that,” Eliot moaned.

“You loved it, don’t lie,” Vera said, holding onto his arm. “The Rockettes are a Christmas staple! And they’re so… leggy.”

Rather than taking a taxi back to the loft, they were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with their hands tucked in mittens or—in Eliot’s case—gloves, and Vera was decked out with a large scarf and knitted hat.

She looked—well, if Eliot was honest—she looked weird.

Unlike all the previous years, where she had a distinguishable style, Vera looked unsettled. Her hair had a darkness to it, but he knew her natural light roots were growing out under her hat. It was like after five years of trying, she had given up on finding herself, and Eliot didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing.

As they entered DUMBO, passing a variety of shops, Eliot reveled in the normality of their day. They had done many touristy things including: ice skating at Rockefeller, Christmas shopping at Macy’s and hot chocolates in Central Park. Everything had felt like they were a normal basic couple, and not a reformed hit man and specialty grifter.

That was until Vera yanked his arm and made him stumble into a shop. While the heat of being inside was welcoming, he couldn’t help but look at her in confusion. She had given no warning, though there was a familiarity with her intense look.

“This place is about to be robbed,” she said, sounding muffled under her scarf, her eyes shifting around the shop.

Eliot straightened up, realizing they were surrounded by display cases filled with gold, silver and diamonds—they were in a jewelry shop.

“Are you kidding me?” he gritted, but Vera looked dead serious.

“Someone has cut the video cameras and the silent alarm as there’s no light indicating outside, there’s only one employee, the owner maybe.”

From the corner of his eye he saw that the single employee was helping someone else, giving them time.

“How sure are you?” he whispered.

“I know robberies,” she murmured, pulling down her scarf, “this is happening.”

For a split second she reminded him of Parker; her sudden focus and confidence in something she knew well. After many years of giving up the Damsel, she got pulled back in at the first signs.

Like an itch she had to scratch.

Impatient, Eliot grumbled, “So what’s the plan? I knock out the robbers when they enter and we go home? Because I have a tiramisu for you in the fridge—”

“No, we need probable cause,” she hissed. “Just knocking down a bunch of robbers wouldn’t work—they need to either follow through with their intention to rob or show intentions to cause bodily harm, like taking a hostage. If you knock them out, you’ll only make it more difficult for the police. No, we’re going to have to Damsel it—”

“Do I need to remind you the last time I was in a robbery with the Damsel, you got shot.”

“Then don’t get me shot,” she snipped, taking off her mittens to tap on her phone before tucking both away. “We need to assess what kind of level robber it is!”

“And how do we do that?” he grunted.

“Level one to five based on how dangerous they are and what they’re after, I can spot it in an instant.” She took off her knitted hat, stuffing it in her pocket together with her mittens. “One mean amateur, five means professional.”

“So what’s the plan?” he asked, a tad louder than he wanted.

A throat was cleared. “You both okay over there?” The owner of the shop looked at them, and before Eliot could say anything, Vera slapped him in the face.

“No!” she said, her voice suddenly the most Brooklyn accent he ever heard. “My boyfriend here didn’t get me anything for Christmas—”

She gave Eliot barely a second to think, and quickly he took on a random persona he had in the back of his head. “Dolores!” he cried. “Please!”

“No, Ronnie,” she said pointedly, “I’m sick of your excuses. I don’t care if I’m a side-chick, I deserve some diamonds!”

“Dolores!”

Vera ignored him, turning to the owner and sassily popping her hip. “Show me the most expensive piece ya got!”

Eliot had to suppress a smirk—he couldn’t help but admire how smart she was, trying to find what the robber potentially was after.

“I—I am just showing it to the gentleman here—” the man said, nudging his head to the customer who had his back to them. The atmosphere shifted so suddenly it was almost palpable. Eliot knew Vera spotted the one single bead of sweat trickling down the owner’s forehead at the same time as him and his eyes darted to the costumer. Eliot’s face hardened upon seeing the way he was standing, as it was very distinctive, meaning… the robber was already here.

Vera put her hand behind her back in a fist and then showed four fingers.

A level four robber, Eliot realized, dangerous but not a professional.

“Well I ain’t got time!” Vera shrieked in her Brooklyn accent. “Ronnie owes me a present now before he goes back to his wife!” Though she was acting, her manners reminded Eliot of that day in the bank; calculating underneath bravado. She was getting into her Damsel position. “Better show me what you’re looking at, mister!”

The robber, predictably, turned around with a gun in his hand and quickly put something in his pocket, which Eliot assumed was whatever piece of jewelry he was after. The man wasn’t wearing a mask, and with the cut cameras, Eliot knew he hadn’t anticipated any witnesses to remain breathing after.

So it must not just be about the jewelry.

Seeing the gun pointed at Vera almost made him forget that Vera had experienced this many times, but it brought him no comfort—he wanted to tell her to screw the Damsel and just bust his head in. Like she could read his mind, the hand behind her back waggled her index finger to stop thinking about it before she went to raise them up.

“Oh my gawd!” she shrieked. “Ronnie, look what happens when you don’t get me a gift! I’m gonna get killed!” She was trembling.

“Shut up,” the man sneered.

Eliot wished he could read Vera’s mind in return—as a robbery expert she would have assessed everything already. He could only hope she would tell him when to do something.

Vera sniffed loudly. “P-please, let us g-go—we ain’t snitches. Ronnie, tell him!” She diverted the robber’s attention to Eliot on purpose.

“You can’t tell every man what to do, Dolores!” he snapped, making sure the robber was looking at him and not noticing Vera inching closer.

“You shut up too,” the robber told Eliot and gestured his gun towards the door. “Lock it.”

He didn’t want to turn his back to him, but had no choice but to follow through—all while Vera continued her questioning. He turned the lock as she asked, “Did you forget a present for your side-chick too?”

“Shut up,” the robber said again, “I’m collecting a debt.”

Eliot’s eyes shifted to the owner, who was creeping towards the door to the back, and he wondered: what did he owe the robber? At the same time he closed the blinds and upon turning around, Vera had again moved a lot closer to the robber.

“What—what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I was going to burn the place,” he said with a shrug, and Eliot unintentionally cracked his knuckles when turning his hand into a fist. Vera hummed low, telling him to stay away. Her hands were still up in the air, and one of her thumbs faltered slightly, hinting she was counting down.

“W-was?” Vera stammered, putting down her index finger.

“Yeah, your presence is ruining my plans.” Another finger. The robber briefly looked at Eliot. “What are you looking at?” He realized he had begun to stare intensely and he quickly shrugged it off. One finger remained.

“I dunno man, you seem wildly unprepared,” he said, nonchalantly.

“Unprepared for what?”

Vera moved so quickly, Eliot barely saw her count down the last finger. Suddenly her scarf was wrapped around the robber’s hand that was holding the gun and she forced it to the ground, kicking it towards Eliot, whom quickly dissembled it.

“Unprepared for this,” he grunted whilst Vera punched the robber in the nose.

The owner raced to the side of the shop where Eliot was, still behind a counter and watched with open mouth as Vera beat the shit out of the robber.

Eliot laid out the pieces of the gun on the glass display, mumbling to himself, “Organized crime.”

“Do we need to help her?” the owner squeaked, and Eliot looked over his shoulder to see Vera wrap her scarf around the robber’s neck to pull him down into her knee. A sickening crack followed.

Eliot turned back. “She’s good,” he said, asking him, “do you have a lot of mafia trouble here?”

“It’s more an emporium,” the man said, wincing at something Vera did, “drugs originally from the Mediterranean. I refuse to launder, so they put pressure on the lease of my shop.”

Eliot hummed, still looking at the gun until something in the display underneath caught his attention. The golden ring was nondescript, almost innocent, but he felt like it was perfect for… He again looked over his shoulder, where Vera honest to God was smiling as she aimed to floor the robber. The corner of his mouth quirked as he turned back.

“Can I take a look at that,” Eliot said, tapping on the glass.

“Of-of course,” the owner said and put the ring in a tray for him to see, “it’s recast gold, twenty four carats—very strong and resilient.”

Innocent, but strong and resilient—and if that didn’t describe Vera, he didn’t know what would. A weight fell against his back and he elbowed the robber over his shoulder without hesitation.

“Sorry!” Vera hollered.

He just grunted, thumbing the ring between his gloved fingers. “Can I put this on hold?” he asked the owner.

“It’s yours for free if you make the emporium go away,” he huffed and Eliot smirked, quickly sliding the ring into his leather wristband when Vera popped up next to him. She dropped a large diamond necklace in the now empty tray.

“Not really my taste,” she said. “Dolores might’ve liked it though.” Her face was flushed, her smile infectious, and Eliot just didn’t understand how she didn’t see this as her calling.

“Do I need to call my people?” he asked pointedly, but she shook her head.

“Jake’s on his way with a FBI team, left him a present.” They all turned to see the robber unconscious on the floor with her scarf wrapped around him in a bow. Vera continued to smile, but Eliot bristled.

“Jake’s in New York?”

“Yeah! He’ll clean up.” She shrugged. “And I’ll get my scarf back from him at New Year’s Eve.” Eliot suppressed another bristle.

“You-you guys are FBI?” the owner asked. “I have proof of the emporium—”

“You can hand it to our colleagues, we’re off duty and would be in a bit of trouble if we get caught hanging around,” Vera lied smoothly. Eliot heard the sirens approach and slipped his hand into Vera’s.

“Time to go,” he grunted, nodding at the owner and planning on posting him a check for the ring—and the trouble—as soon as he could.

“Happy holidays!” Vera squeaked as Eliot dragged her out of the shop. Quickly they hid into an alleyway and Eliot pressed her up against the wall. Her breath was foggy as she happily smiled up to him.

“That was fun,” she said gleefully, “much more so not being a CI or on the run.”

Eliot grinned softly, moving the hair out of her face and grabbing her knitted hat from her pocket. “A damsel by choice,” he murmured, pulling the hat over her head. His eyes darted to his wristband where the ring was already burning on his skin. What was he thinking? He had no plan whatsoever—he couldn’t propose marriage to a woman his best friends thought was dead… could he?

As FBI teams pulled out of cars, Eliot pressed her up more against the wall, his lips closely hovering over hers. She kissed him before he could think and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thank you for today,” she murmured, kissing his lower lip, “the ice skating, the shopping—”

“The foiling of an attempted robbery?”

“—the Rockettes.”

“A normal day?”

“The best day.” She kissed him again. “I love every Christmas with you.”

He kept quiet, still thinking about that damn ring. He was going to need time to consider, time to plan—so he promised himself that by the time they spent the next Christmas together, she would be wearing that ring. The Coney Island Ferris Wheel would be the perfect location for a proposal.

“Sounds like they got it,” he murmured, listening to the FBI and police take in the robber. “So how about that tiramisu, huh?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and began to lead her through the alley to the other side of the block. “Maybe we can finally watch Die Hard instead of Love Actually.”

“As long as you wear the Christmas jumper we got!” she said, skipping next to him.

“Fine, as long as you’re naked then,” he retorted.

“Hey! No, that’s not fair—”

“I’ll also accept last year’s outfit.”

They laughed loudly, happily. Neither knew then things would end before they reached Christmas Eve next year.

As he walked, Eliot found himself approaching the library, returning to present day without Vera tucked into his side and he swallowed. He never got to ride the Ferris Wheel with Vera again; instead he had attended a funeral. Stop, he scolded, stop thinking about painful stuff.

Sophie cornered him just as he was about to follow Blanche back into the library.

“Eliot,” she murmured, her voice rich with worried undertones, “You mentioned… her.”

“Don’t,” he said for the umpteenth time, but the mere thought of Vera triggered her face.

“Sorry, I’m just—” Sophie bit her lip. “I just need to make sure you’re up for the finale of this.”

“I’ve got to finish your story, I’m the unlikely hero, remember?” he grunted, trying to bypass her but Sophie grabbed him by the shirt.

“We need to talk, about her, after this,” she insisted.

“She’s—” Alive, alive, alive.

“Dead, yes,” Sophie said, “And we have that in common. Though my wound is fresher.” He closed his eyes, fuck he missed Nate. “You offered to talk about that, remember? Well I will if you do.”

“Do what?” he grunted.

“Talk about Vera.”

Breathing in deeply through his nose, he lied, “The Red Haze forces me to relive painful memories, of course V-she would pop up. But that’s not the only thing.” He held intense eye contact, forcing Sophie to understand the complexities of Red Haze. She didn’t need to know that he had tried to keep the worst of the worst at bay by remembering happier Christmas times.

Especially as last year’s was one he tried to suppress the most.

 

Chapter 7: Christmas 2019, Dr Paul Orozco’s Place

Notes:

Tw: alcohol

Christmas 2019, Dr Paul Orozco’s Place

 

“Feliz Navidad,” Eliot grunted joylessly at Dr Paul’s wide eyed gaze, offering him a bottle of mezcal tequila.

“Eliot?” he gawked. “What are you doing here?”

Not in the mood for pleasantries this early in the morning, Eliot made his way into Dr Paul’s house, dropping the bag he brought back from Brooklyn. He had traveled through the night, refusing to sleep.

“You offered me a place to crash should I ever need it, so here I am.”

Paul followed him, still perplexed. “How—what—”

With a firm hand, Eliot grasped his shoulder. “Amigo, I know I usually am the one owed favors, but I have to ask you here to grant me one.”

With a skeptical look, Paul took him in from head to toe. Eliot knew he was about to get assessed and before he could stop him, Paul asked, “Bad job? Past trauma? Your old man?”

He only grunted, dragging his feet to the couch and promptly dropping down on it, decorative pillows be damned.

“O-okay,” Paul drawled, putting away the bottle of tequila.

“I have plans on drinking that,” Eliot called out and turned to his side so he faced the back of the couch.

“Ah, I see.”

For a few minutes, all Eliot heard was shuffling in the kitchen and he was suddenly hit by the smell of chocolate.

“Here we go,” Paul said and Eliot turned back to see a mug filled to the brim with hot cocoa topped with whipped cream.

“There better be tequila in that,” Eliot grumbled.

“Only mini marshmallows,” Paul said, sitting down in one of the arm chairs. “What was their name?”

“What?” Eliot sat up straight, ignoring the mug of hot chocolate.

“The name of whoever Whammed you this Christmas.”

Eliot blinked. “Did I get the wrong house? I thought I was staying at Dr Orozco’s place—what the fuck is Whammed?”

Dr Paul began to hum, “Last Christmas, I gave you my heart—but the very next day, you gave it away—” He added a couple of ‘la la las’ for good measure and Eliot was looking at him like he had already chugged back the bottle of tequila.

“You know what,” Eliot said, sitting up and slapping his knees, “I think I made a mistake and will be hiding in the woods until the new year.” He got up and Paul playfully pushed him back down.

“Relax,” Paul said, smiling, “what are friends for if not being there for when someone breaks your heart?”

Eliot deflated, sagging onto the couch. “I—” he started, “I just need to hide out for a while before I get back to work.”

“So your colleagues don’t know?”

“It’s complicated—”

“Yet you knew you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I literally just blindly traveled—”

“When’s the last time someone broke your heart?”

“Dammit, Paul,” Eliot snapped, “I didn’t come for therapy session!”

Paul sucked his teeth. “Then why, of all your many friends and people that owe you favors, did you come to your therapist buddy?”

“Because he has a decent couch,” Eliot deadpanned.

Shaking his head, Paul took a sip of his own mug. “You followed one of your strongest assets, Eliot—your gut instinct.”

Eliot’s nose flared, but he wouldn’t admit that Paul was right—albeit it partially. Once he had walked out of the Loft after their fight he felt like he had been at a crossroads. One road would be to go confess to his team, to lean on them, but then he remembered the grief they were all still experiencing after losing Nate. He couldn’t burden them with his secret.

Then a different turn would be to indeed go hide in the woods and deal with his emotions himself, by basically not dealing with them at all.

The road ahead would be to Paul, as one of his most down to earth friends. A good listener.

It had been the obvious road to take.

If not for the nagging fourth option… which was to just turn around and go back.

He had lingered outside the door longer than he should have, and he knew the second he would hear a sob he would have barged back in. Except he knew Vera had simply frozen up, scared of the unknown, but planning a life without him anyway.

They didn’t want the same.

Both had sacrificed enough.

So on his way to Paul’s, Eliot had bought a bottle of mezcal to drown his sorrows. Speaking of which, “Can I get at least a shot of that tequila in my system before we talk heartaches?”

“No,” Paul said firmly. “You and I know that alcohol, and drugs, are a slippery slope.”

Eliot growled, hating that he was right.

“Then what do we do?”

“You have a sip of cocoa, trust me it’s really good, and you talk.” Paul crossed his legs and nudged him with his toe.

He hesitated. He knew full well that this was going to happen the second he walked the road to Paul. So he gritted his teeth and began to talk.

Initially he spoke about Nate.

It felt like a safe wound to talk about. Death was final after all. Death was something Eliot was familiar with.

Then he moved to something harder, and Paul’s favorite topic; his father.

Eliot could control that topic, could reason about it.

Lastly he mentioned the woman that had been the bane of his existence for a decade. He couldn’t mention her name; it simply didn’t want to leave his lips, but he talked nevertheless.

“Long distance must have been rough,” Paul murmured. “To know you’re sharing a life without living together.”

Eliot shook his head. “Unless I meet someone actively working with me, doing the same job, it will always be long distance.”

“And she didn’t want that?”

“Which part?”

“Work with you?”

“It’s—”

“—complicated,” Paul finished for him. “Would she fit in with your work?”

His lip quirked, remembering their little foiled robbery from last year. “Yeah.”

For a second it was quiet, then Paul asked, “And what if, in your line of work, she would be in danger?”

This made Eliot swallow. Hard.

He remembered her getting shot that first day. He remembered the wounds from Greece. He remembered her stalker.

He remembered her deadly reaction to Empfinium.

And how that all led to her great wish of starting over. To have a normal life.

It was one thing accidentally running into trouble versus actively seek it out like he and the team did.

“Those are some loud thoughts,” Paul observed.

“She—” Eliot chewed his lip and then shook her head. “Never-mind.”

“Okay,” Paul mused, “then how about the opposite. She wants you to settle?”

He continued to shake his head. “I’ve got too much going on, I barely have a house in the US anymore! The food trucks, the teams—they need me.”

“I see.” Paul sat up, stacking their lunch plates as it was getting well into the afternoon. “Then maybe the break up is for the best until both of you are ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Paul smiled. “Compromise, my friend—not sacrifice… compromise.”

A beat.

“And well,” he continued, “if neither of you are ever ready, then maybe you two were not meant to be. So take this time to heal?”

“Physician heal thyself?” Eliot grunted.

“Exactly, now,” Paul said, getting up, “can I trust you by yourself for a few hours?”

Eliot gestured that he was fine. “I barged in, didn’t even think you’d be home for Christmas to be honest.” Paul nodded.

“Glad you didn’t break in. There’s a key under a latch on the side should you need it next time. I’d, uh, invite you with me but would be a bit awkward,” he said sheepishly, “meeting the parents and all.”

The smirk could not be suppressed and Eliot let out a chuckle. “What’s his name?”

“I’ll tell you his in exchange for hers.”

“Touché.”

As Paul got ready to leave, he told Eliot to help himself to anything in the fridge. “Just no alcohol, all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot grunted, waving his worries away, but it wasn’t until he was alone that the gravity of his situation closed in on him.

Staring at the ceiling of the living room, Eliot was extremely uncomfortable. He usually wasn’t one to toss and turn, but he could not lay still for the life of him and let out a deep sigh.

“Fuck,” he muttered, reliving their final fight. He knew it was over before the final words had been said. The string had been stretched thin and Vera was not ready to return a sacrifice.

He also knew that if he had asked for a final kiss, his heart would not have survived the beating—not that he felt any better knowing their final kiss had been a bittersweet ‘hello’ upon his arrival. She had been so gentle with him, knowing Nate’s passing completely derailed him, and he had blown it.

Swallowing, he imagined what would have happened if, rather than leaving, he had stayed. He would have been too angry, not being able to handle her frozen state. He might have snapped.

No, it was good he left. If anything he hoped she would stay in the Loft—at least she would be safe to live this normal life she so desperately craved.

Selfishly he also knew he could keep an eye on her if she did, which was why he knew she would move out as soon as she could.

He sighed.

What a mess.

His wristband itched—the ring he bought last year still tucked there—and he hated how he had made a promise that it would be on her finger by their next Christmas. If only he had known what he knew now.

He slid the ring out of the wristband, tossing it up in his hand. The noise the ring made when he put it on the coffee table was deafening. He blinked, and a hand reached out to grab it. When he looked up, he gasped. Somehow his sleep deprivation had summoned Vera in his mind.

“Pretty,” she said, smiling. Her hair was interchanging with all its variations from the past ten years. “It’s for me?”

“It was,” he grunted. He knew he hadn’t taken any Empfinium, this was purely his own brain playing games.

She slid the ring on her left ring finger like it had belonged there her entire life.

“Need to get you one too,” she said, still smiling. Her outfits interchanged with her hair, the red lingerie set from two years ago making his mouth dry every time it popped up. “What do you want to do, Eliot?” she asked.

“Drink myself into a coma,” he grunted.

“Do you want to imagine us compromising?”

“No.”

But it was too late, Vera shifted in a blur of styles, wearing some weird outfit that looked like something Parker would wear when on a job.

“Want to imagine me deciding to be part of the team?” she asked. “As your grifter?”

“No.”

Suddenly she was clutching her waist, moving her hand to show the blood from a gunshot wound. Her outfit shifted to the day they met—she looked so young with her long red hair.

“I’ve done it before,” she groaned in pain, “this is what you want, right?”

“No.”

He stood up, swaying on his legs before dropping down again onto the couch.

“Okay,” she said, shifting to the outfit she wore when they broke up. Her hair half dark, half light. The Christmas jumper and leggings had the promise of cuddling on the couch. “Then what about what I want?”

“I don’t know what you want,” he murmured.

“You do,” she said, firmly, “I want normality.”

“You’ll never have a normal life with me,” he repeated from their final fight.

“Then maybe we have different perspectives of normality.” She shifted to the red lingerie outfit. “Maybe I consider normality my boyfriend coming home with bruises, and he lets me take care of him.” She crowded in on him, cupping his face and stroking his hair. “Maybe all I want is for him to come home more often to me. To stay… with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

Vera chewed her lip. “Then you know your answer.”

She disappeared, leaving Eliot alone on the couch—the bottle of mezcal partially empty in his hand.

“Fuck,” he groaned. She hadn’t been sleep deprivation after all—he was just drunk.

Dr Paul was going to be so disappointed in him, but he didn’t get to linger on it too much before the Red Haze returned him to the library.

“You really think they’re going to buy this?” Blanche asked. They were in a backroom waiting for RIZ.

“If Hardison—” fuck, he cleared his throat, “If Breanna says it’s gonna work, it’ll work.”

“That stuff really did a number on you, huh?”

You have no idea, but he just murmured, “That and knowing which buttons to press.”

As they waited, Eliot let the conversation happen. He didn’t mention that he had kept the worst of the worst at bay by thinking of Vera, but talking with Blanche made him miss his father, and perhaps he should go see him at his veteran buddy’s get together after all.

But first they had to complete the story.

Once all was well that ended well, he was walking down from headquarters to the streetcar with hope in his heart, until he learned his dad hadn’t shown.

The alcohol briefly burned his throat as he chugged the wine. The disappointment of his dad not showing up was the icing on the cake for another terrible Christmas.

Groaning, he tossed the still full bottle into the trash—alcohol was not the answer he had learned. After Paul had reprimanded him for drinking, their therapy continued until Eliot was in a much better place by the new year. Interestingly he had enjoyed having a ‘home’ the most. It was why once they had started doing jobs in New Orleans that he began working on having somewhat of a permanent residence. One he entered a few days after the Red Haze.

The farm was still finding its roots, but slowly it was becoming a home.

Sagging onto the couch, he couldn’t believe he had spent a whole job just being tortured with memories of Vera. He had been doing so much better—being with the team, Maria—that he had almost accepted that maybe he and Vera were not meant to be.

Almost.

Because in that moment he couldn’t help but wonder what Vera was doing.

Wherever she might be.

 

---

 

Harlow Residence, Mississippi

 

“I’ll get it,” Vera told Jake, who appeared elbow deep into his end of year paperwork, and she rolled her eyes. The person at the door knocked again and she quickened her pace. “Coming!”

As she opened the door, she was met with a tablet that read ‘Say it’s carol singers’ and upon seeing who was holding it, she promptly slammed the door into the face of no one other than Alec Hardison.

Chapter 8: Christmas 2020, Harlow Residence, Mississippi

Christmas 2020, Harlow Residence, Mississippi

Hardison closed his eyes.

It was her.

He couldn’t believe it.

Vera.

Though it had been seven years, and he only had seen the quickest of glances of her just now—he knew it was her.

After he learned that his present for Parker accidentally uncovered a sleeper spy, he had video-called her.

“How’s Eliot?” he asked. Somehow he always found himself worrying about him each Christmas. Ever since Vera’s death, he had gone off the grid twice a year—in September and December. This year was the first time since then that he actually stayed with their family, which strangely raised more alarm bells than had he gone away again.

“He’s…” Parker looked down. “Off.”

Hardison frowned. “As in acting off or ran off?”

“Both.”

She then told him about the Red Haze.

“He named her,” Parker revealed quietly, “Vera.”

Chills ran up his spine. If there was one thing they learned a few years back, it was to never mention Vera.

“Anyway,” Parker continued. “Would you mind upgrading our facial recognition software? Blanche didn’t pop up as Copperhead when we did our prep work.”

“Of course, babe,” he said, “I’ll tap into Searchlight.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you,” he murmured, “I’ll see you at New Year’s.”

With a promise they would break into the aquarium to make sure the fish weren’t afraid of the fireworks, Parker disappeared and Hardison booted up his computers.

Vera… he pondered. It had been five years since Eliot had his little outburst. In a way both Hardison and Parker had been glad to see him feel anything. Grief was a fickle friend.

After a few updates, he ran his recognition software again and ensured all footage of the team was erased. But something was still nagging him, and when something nagged him—he had to solve it.

He figured it wouldn’t hurt—if anything it would show up nothing anyway. His software couldn’t pull up the dead, or even data from 2013 from when she was still around as he had deleted everything with Parker as his witness. But it would ease his mind nonetheless.

Opening a deeply encrypted file, he pulled up a picture of Eliot and Vera. It was a picture that the sniper had taken in 2011. Though Hardison had erased her completely, he had kept this one picture, because through all the seriousness in his friend’s face—Eliot looked extremely happy.

His finger hovered over the keypad.

He was hesitating, why he did not know—Vera was dead after all.

She was gone.

He clicked for the program to run.

She wouldn’t show up.

There would be no—

Ping!

—match.

He sat up straight, his heart pounding in his chest. There, on his screen, a match appeared. It was just one picture, from someone named Evelyn’s Facebook page, and it mostly featured her flowerbeds—but in the background there was an out of focus woman accepting a parcel. Hardison’s nose flared. It couldn’t be—not even he would be that good.

But Searchlight could be.

In a complete blur of events, he searched for anything there was about Evelyn and her neighbors. Then he realized there was something iffy about the house—almost like there was a witness protection filter on it.

It was enough for him to travel to the place and here he found himself in fuck-all Mississippi with a door slammed in his face.

Just as he went to knock again, the door opened to Vera dressed in outdoor wear.

“I’m just going to help Evelyn!” she called to someone inside, staring wide-eyed at Hardison and closing the door.

She suddenly was even more real.

Alive.

“There’s a park over there,” she said, nudging her head. “We can… chat.”

“You bet your European butt we’ll chat,” he thundered and she shushed him, dragging him towards the park.

“What the fuck, Vera?” he hissed. “Does Eliot know?”

Even in the dark, he could see her squeeze her eyes closed at the mention of his name. Birds of a feather, these two.

“He-he doesn’t know I’m here,” she said, carefully.

“He mourned you,” he said, remembering the shell of a man he was after she had gone down the cliff. “We all mourned you.”

Silence.

“Is—” she started, “—is El-Eliot okay?”

“He’s been better.”

“Why? What happened?” The panic in her voice pushed down his urge to tell her that it was none of her business. She appeared sincerely worried, so he told her about the Red Haze.

“You familiar with it?”

Vera had been almost a scholar when it came to Empfinium, aka Lavender Haze, and he wasn’t surprised when she gasped.

“It’s-it’s similar but more direct,” she said. “Empfinium relies more on the flower, Red Haze more on the science behind it. It heightens the senses, can bring up the worst of the worst—”

“Any idea why you would be mentioned by Eliot when he was going through the worst of the worst?” Hardison snapped. Vera actually trembled at this.

“Wha—”

“Eliot hasn’t brought you up in five years, but under the influence of PTSD in a bottle, you popped up.”

“He—”

“Because maybe your fake-ass death traumatized him.” Hardison felt a weight off his shoulders, glad to have finally told her off. “So you’re coming with me and tell him in fucking person that you’re alive.”

For just a split second, Vera seemed to look calculating but it disappeared as quick as it came.

“Alec—” she started but he raised his hand.

“Seven years,” he said. “You put him through hell for seven years.”

A thick tear rolled down her cheek. “I really did, didn’t I?” She hiccuped. “Tell me,” she murmured, “would that hell continue if I go with you and tell him that I’m married?”

Hardison backed away like he had been stung. The weird protection filter on the resident of her house had given him no information about who lived there, but he had not expected her to say this.

“Married?” he gawked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Tell me what he would feel if I go up to him right now and tell him I’m hap—“ she took a deep breath, “—happy with someone else.”

“Vera…” Hardison swallowed. “Why—why did you fake your death? You and Eliot, you—you clicked.”

“We didn’t want the same thing,” she said, her voice thick. “He wants me to join you all, but I—I just want to be… me. My normal life. I want to have kids. Have a nice home. Settle.”

Hardison clenched his jaw, imagining that life for Eliot. He would be an amazing father, would provide the most amazing home for his family but—

“Eliot would never settle,” she finished his thoughts. “He has too much work to do.”

She wiped away the tears.

“So tell me, Alec,” she continued. “What would happen if I appear in his life right now?”

He pictured his best friend, Vera in front him—Eliot would not explode, or cry. He would even resist hugging her. But deep down, he would be elated—planning his next steps, revisit his current life and fit her in it.

Only to learn she would not fit anymore.

Not in the way he deserved.

“What would happen, Alec?” she urged.

And Hardison conceded, “It would break his heart.”

Vera swallowed, loudly, and her eyes were filled with tears again. Like she had intentionally broken her heart too.

“I don’t believe,” he said slowly, “that you gave him up. Not like this.”

“I had to.”

“Why?” He grabbed her shoulders. “Is someone forcing you? Are you in danger?”

“I’m not!”

“Why didn’t you pop up at any other moment?”

“I am really good at faking my death!” She huffed. “You thought I was in The Netherlands the whole of the time before Greece, didn’t you?”

“Fine,” he admitted.

The silence that fell was heavy between them. Then Hardison pulled her into a hug and she sagged into his arms.

“Seven years,” he choked.

“I’m sorry, I had to,” she said muffled and pulled back. “You can’t tell Eliot. Please say you won’t.”

Bristling, Hardison was reminded of eleven years ago when she had shown up at their doorstep whilst he and Eliot had searching for her in Washington State. He had agreed back then, but still kept track of her.

“We can protect you,” he tried. “Leverage International can—”

She released herself from the hug. “I’m just a normal citizen, Alec. I am in no danger.” A tentative smile appeared.

He took a moment to look at her. She had aged, the early thirties suiting her just fine. Her hair was short and blonde. There was a sadness in her eyes, the smile not quite reaching it.

He shook his head. “What have you been up to all these years, Vera Little?”

With a shrug she said, “Just staying out of trouble.” She zoned off. “I—I wanted to stop being you guys’ problem. To stop being… Eliot’s… problem.” The hurt on her face when she said it reminded Hardison of Eliot.

The two end of an invisible string—not destined to be together after all.

He had to let both move on.

“I’ll keep your secret,” he said and she murmured a thank you.

“You won’t keep tabs on me?”

“Vera—”

“I don’t need it.”

“Just in case—”

“Imagine Eliot finding out.” Her voice was harsh. “He’s smart, Alec. Just… just forget about me.” He sensed her desperation. The way she was presenting herself made him worry she was not at all safe, but he did what he always did—he promised.

But didn’t erase her quite yet.

 

---

 

New Year’s Eve 2020, Leverage Headquarters, New Orleans

 

“Any wild plans for next year?” Hardison asked Eliot. They were both observing Parker, who was trying to see if Breanna’s drone could hold her up.

“Fishing trip with Maria,” he grunted.

Ever since the Red Haze he had been extra grumpy, Hardison noted.

“I said wild plans.”

“She has an outboard Boston Whaler, Hardison, that is wild,” Eliot bristled.

“Eyyy, whatever matches your freak.” Hardison slapped his shoulder but there was a hesitation to it. “I mean… did you ever see any of your previous girlfriends go fishing with you?”

Eliot sniffed in deeply, unimpressed. “I have dated many women with many interests.”

“Sure, sure.”

“And just because they don’t share one interest, doesn’t mean they weren’t ‘matching my freak’,” he sneered with air quotations. “Just look at your freak.” He pointed up to where Parker was being flown from one side of the theater to the other. “I’m not seeing you hanging up there.”

“Fair point.” They walked in line with where Parker was going. “I’m just curious,” Hardison continued, and a little voice in his head nagged that he shouldn’t, but somehow he couldn’t help himself. “Who would you consider the love of your life?”

Eliot’s head jerked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just say you’re in a room with every person you’ve dated, who would you look for?”

“It’d be one hell of a big room.” Eliot smirked, before it faltered. He looked like he was actually imagining it and quickly joked, “Maybe Sister Lupe?”

They walked back, still following Parker.

“Be serious,” Hardison said with a sigh.

“I am!”

“Eliot.”

“Dammit, Hardison.” Eliot was breathing slightly heavier than he usually would. “I’m happy right now, okay?”

“I was just—”

“There’s no need,” he said, feigning a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Just like Hardison had seen on Vera. “I’m happy,” Eliot said, reminding Hardison of something Vera had said.

Tell me what he would feel if I go up to him right now and tell him I’m happy with someone else.

Hardison realized he would derail two lives by exposing Vera. So he vowed to keep his promise and never look for her again.

At the same time there was a yelp and Parker dropped into his arms.

“Oh hey, babe!” she said happily, giving him a quick kiss. “Time to go to the Aquarium?”

“Hell yeah.” He swayed her bridal style and turned to Eliot. “You want to join?”

“I’m already familiar with the penguin enclosure,” he grunted.

“Fine,” Hardison conceded and began to carry Parker out towards the courtyard. “No, we’re not swimming with the stingrays!” was the last thing Eliot heard, and he smirked.

His plan was to watch the fireworks from the attic and leave for home tomorrow after breakfast. As he walked up the stairs, he dared to look over his shoulder.

Say you’re in a room with every person you’ve dated, who would you look for?

What Hardison didn’t realize was that Eliot would have a relatively empty room, because he only considered one person as a real relationship.

He inhaled deeply.

On the stage he imagined Vera, wearing a white wedding dress and holding a bouquet of white flowers in her hands. She was smiling widely at him.

He knew he wouldn’t have to look for anyone, but he wasn’t quite ready to find her.

“I miss you,” he said, kind of like a dumbass—she couldn’t hear him after all.

But he didn’t know that tucked somewhere in a guest bedroom in Mississippi, Vera was clutching a pillow, whispering the same.

Eliot made his way back up the stairs, the ring itching in his wristband. The fact that he was still carrying it on him should tell him enough, but he continued to be a dumbass for quite a bit longer.

But at least he kept his vow that by the time of their next shared Christmas, the ring was on Vera’s finger.

Chapter 9: Christmas 2021, The Spencer Farm, Louisiana

Notes:

Ok it’s been angsty enough, back to fluff and smut

Tw pregnancy

Christmas 2021, The Spencer Farm, Louisiana

The farm was still lit up when Eliot drove up to it. It was the dead of night, and he had just raced back from Nana’s.

The final notes of ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ were cut off abruptly as he switched off the car before getting out.

It had been three months since their impromptu Coney Island wedding, and Vera was in the thick of morning sickness. Or as she called it; any time sickness.

His plan had been to keep up appearances to his family by hanging out with everyone at Nana’s house over the holidays, followed by acquiring a few of her pies and disappearing to the farm until the next job. Vera had been fine with it, still enjoying the quiet bliss of her new normal.

But their growing baby didn’t keep it blissfully quiet for long.

“Are you keeping anything down?” Eliot had murmured over the phone, hiding in Nana’s pantry.

“Some liquids,” Vera sighed. “Not everything though.”

“I can get Paul to send over some IV drip bags for hydration.”

A beat.

“He wouldn’t question that?”

Eliot chuckled. “He knows better than not to.” He looked up at the sudden yelling of the team playing the dirtiest game of monopoly he had ever witnessed. “I can sneak out tonight.”

“Babe…” Her pet name for him still made his heart flutter. “We agreed—I’m fine. Stronger together, even when apart, remember?”

“You try staying away when you know your significant other is sick,” he gritted.

“You try being married to someone who gets actively gets punched all the time.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “We’re going to have to find our flow with this. Especially once this pea is a full blown baby.”

He breathed in deeply.

They were having a baby.

The gravity of it was still hard to grasp.

Vera continued, “We agreed that you will keep doing jobs, and I will get so many baby books you will get sick of it!”

Eliot’s lip quirked. They had agreed he would continue working and come home whenever he could. But he also knew he wasn’t on a job right now—he was just too scared to figure out his situation with his family. Not joining them after a difficult last year with the Red Haze would have spiraled them—but more so it was spiraling Eliot, which was why Vera had encouraged him to go and come home whenever.

So he decided; whenever was now.

“You go try and sleep a bit, okay?” he murmured. “Text me if it gets worse.”

After exchanging ‘I love you’s’, Eliot hung up and debated on what excuse to use to skip the rest of the night. His family was not going to be happy. Just as he imagined Hardison attempting to tackle him, the door to the pantry opened and Nanaappeared with her hands on her hips.

“Well, well,” she sassed. “You both finally sacrificed enough?” Eliot gulped.—only Nana would remember something from six years ago.

“We, uh, compromised.”

“Uhu,” she hummed, scanning the shelves of her pantry, “I’m sure compromising got you both in your current position.” She gave him a knowing side-eye and grabbed a bag of what looked like corn chips before throwing it at him. “This will help with the nausea.”

“I—”

“Vitamin B too.”

“Nana—”

She held up her hands. “None o’ my business, but when I got knowledge to share, I can’t resist it.” There was a small smile on her lips. “She a nice girl?”

Eliot huffed, “The best.”

Nana’s face turned hard. “Then why you here, boy? Go back to your damn baby mama!” she boomed and Eliot couldn’t help but shush. “Stop your fussing. Alec is in an eggnog coma, he’s such a lightweight, and Parker and Breanna have left for an adventure I know damn well not to ask about.”

Eliot realized that meant he could leave whenever as Sophie was in Europe and Harry was with his daughter this year.

“Could you—”

“I’ll tell them you had a thing,” Nana said with a shrug and Eliot deflated, not being able to stop the gratitude simmering in his belly.

“Thank you,” he murmured and together they left the pantry. Before he went to grab his stuff, he asked, “Any chance I can grab a sweet potato pie to go?”

“You know damn well they’re not ready yet,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “Sacrifice, remember?”

And Eliot guessed he could live with that as he began his drive home.

With a bag full of corn products and vitamin B, Eliot walked up the porch and noted that one of the dining table chairs was outside, a book perched open on it.

Frowning, he wondered what his wife had been up to and pushed the front door open to a still fully lit up living space. The room looked empty, the large Christmas tree prominently in the middle.

“Honey?” he called, looking around almost in a panic when he didn’t immediately saw her.

From the door to their bedroom, Vera appeared—her hair wet and wearing his bathrobe—and she visibly sagged upon seeing him. She was pale, with large circles under her eyes, and her chest hitched once, twice – before tears began to streak down her cheeks.

“Oh hon,” Eliot sighed, dropping his bags and striding towards her.

“It’s—” Hiccup. “—just hormones—” she sobbed. He wrapped his arms around her waist, scooping her up, and she hid her face in the crook of his neck.

“Ugh,” she huffed. “You smell so good. You smell like my husband.”

Chuckling, he carried her to the couch, saying, “I am your husband.”

He gently sat her down and she looked up with big red-rimmed hazel eyes. Suddenly she seemed to realize that he really was there. “But—but you were staying—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said and shrugged off his jacket. “I’m here now. Are—” He swallowed. “Are you in the mood to try some food?”

She grimaced, as he had expected, and eyed the bags he brought. “I’m scared I’ll never want a Nana pie again if I throw it up.”

“Well…” he trailed, kicking off his shoes and walking to the bags. “No pies, I’m afraid, but I do have it on good word this may help.” He held up the chips.

After Vera had eaten a bit, and miraculously kept it down, Eliot quickly showered before joining his wife in bed.

Wearing just a towel around his waist, he threw back his wet hair. “Gonna guess it’s no longer my robe?” he grunted and Vera blinked at him innocently. She had changed to one of his shirts and was tucked under the duvet.

“It smells like you,” she confessed. The robe itself was lying on a chair, which reminded him.

“Did you read outside?” He pulled on some boxers, pretending not noticing Vera ogling him. “On the porch?”

Nodding she said, “Somehow the swampy air helps.”

As he pondered the fact he hadn’t really thought about getting porch furniture, he sneaked into the bed and got roped into a cuddle straight away.

“Apparently it’s normal for me to be clingy,” she said sleepily.

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” she yawned, “I read it in book.” Her leg draped over his and she molded herself against him. “We should get me a pregnancy pillow though.”

“I’ll be your pillow,” he whispered. “Now sleep, hon.” Humming a song, he waited for Vera’s breathing to even out, before closing his own eyes to sleep a little bit, savoring the elation that he was home.

 

---

 

They must have slept for maybe two hours at most before Eliot woke to Vera restlessly turning in his arms.

“Hon?” he murmured, rubbing her arm. Was she having a nightmare?

She was writhing so much her shirt popped open, giving him ample view of her breasts. Swallowing heavily, he gave her a shake and she let out a moan, which went straight to his cock.

“Honey?” he tried again and finally Vera opened her eyes. She was on her back, looking around disoriented before staring at Eliot.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Can only seem to feel one of four ways—nauseous, exhausted, emotional or—” Her throat bopped as she swallowed, her shirt mostly open and Eliot tried in earnest not to look at her exposed breasts. Vera, however, took his hand, placing it on her breastbone and her skin was hot to the touch. Did she have a fever?

“Or?” he urged.

Vera shuddered under his touch.

“Horny.”

For a second Eliot thought he had misheard. He actually stayed frozen as they were until Vera moved underneath him, guiding his hand over her breast and hardening nipple. She gasped.

“Babe?” she asked, her voice gravely. “I want—unless you don’t, of course—”

This restarted his brain and he quickly moved. “Yeah,” he breathed, “I want—” He shoved the duvet off of them and gazed down at Vera lying in the middle of the bed. Her hair cascaded around their pillows, her lips parted as her breathing became more labored, and he slid his hand down to open her shirt completely. Even the slightest of touches made her shudder and he realized her nipples were much darker. Vera practically vibrated when he gave grazed his fingers over them.

“Babe!” she gasped, and Eliot only took it as encouragement, bending down low to cup one breast firmly with his hand and kissing it leisurely. “Oh my god!” Her legs gave a spasm and he slid his free hand down over her stomach to rest on top of her soaking panties.

His tongue began to circle the hardened nub, his teeth ever so often nipping at it and Vera bucked underneath him. He never seen her experience his touches so intensely and he was loving it.

Desperate for friction, she squirmed against his hand and he slipped one finger under the fabric of her panties. He groaned around her nipple at how wet she was and released the nub with a pop.

“You’ve been like this since I left?”

She gasped, nodding. “It’s normal—” A high pitched noise followed when he caressed her clit.

“Don’t give a damn if it’s normal,” he grunted and in a flurry of movement he rid her of the shirt and yanked down her panties. “You should’ve told me before I left.” His own cock was rock hard, creating a wet spot on his boxers, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to give his wife some delicious relief.

He kissed her confidently and made his way down again, peppering kisses on any inviting spot. Her pulse was rapid when he nipped her throat. Finally he returned to worshiping her glorious breasts. His knee was firmly between her legs and she was humping against it, but he wanted to make sure nothing felt neglected.

He cupped the mounds, groped then until they were hard in his hands. Pressing a kiss on her breastbone, he squeezed them with his face in between—his fingers strategically tweaking her nipples.

Vera bucked again. “Oh my God!”

With his cheek against her chest, he breathed, “You wanna come?”

“Y-yes!”

He pulled one of her nipples again and she shuddered. “Do you think you could just come from this?” he asked, rubbing the now fully hard nub.

“I—” she gasped, “—haven’t before-ah!”

“I think you can,” he said with a low voice. He pressed her deep into the mattress, her body warm and sweaty, and he licked a wide stripe across her cleavage. To every touch she reacted more and more and her hands found his hair, raking through it with her fingers.

“Baaabe,” she squirmed.

“Fuck, I love these,” he said, covering as much of her breast as he could with his hand before squeezing. “I love all of you.”

Her legs wrapped around his thigh and she began humping more frantically. “Ah!” She moaned, and when he tried to move her legs away with his hand—really wanting her to come just by teasing her nipples—his hand grazed over her clit and she came instantly.

“Fuck,” he swore, looking at her in amazement.

“Been—frustrated—for days—” she panted. Her body was limp like a rag doll, her legs limblessly falling open. “God that felt good.” His hand slid over her chest again and she shuddered, batting it away. “Sensitive.” Her eyelids were getting heavy. “Fuck, babe—I—” Her hand was sluggishly pawing at the thick outline of his cock in his boxers and he batted it away in return.

“You should sleep some more,” he urged.

“Nooo,” she moaned, but he could see her drift into slumber already. She added cheekily, “You’re gonna masturbate in the bathroom, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me after that fucking hot foreplay?” he murmured, kissing her slackening lips. “Wouldn’t last long anyway.”

She gave a sated smile. “I pride myself on that.”

“I know,” he said, but she was already asleep. Good, he thought—he had business to attend to. Christmas business, actually—though first he made good on some bathroom time.

 

---

 

“Babe?” Vera called, shuffling out of their bed room later that morning.

Eliot was nowhere to be seen.

With a box of cornflakes in her hands she tried to suss out any noise to indicate where her husband was, finally spotting him walk outside the farm carrying a large piece of plywood.

Wearing his robe and her own slippers, she opened the front door to the porch to find a workstation set up.

“Hey hon,” he grunted, putting the piece of wood down.

“What’s this?” she asked sleepily, still munching on cornflakes.

“Your Christmas present.”

“But—”

He put his hand up to her protest.

“Let me do this,” he pleaded. “We can both enjoy it tonight.”

Frowning, Vera tried to decipher what he was making. “What—”

“We may want to get some cushions though,” he added and fastened a piece of wood with a nailgun.

The structure now quite resembled—“A bench?”

Eliot smiled at her. “Swampy air helps, right? But let’s make it a couch with the cushions.”

Her heart felt full, and she couldn’t help the tears from coming. She was wrapped in a hug before she could sob, Eliot soothing her. “Merry Christmas, hon.”

“Merry,” hiccup, “Christmas, babe.”

He pulled back, still smiling. “Last one of just us two,” he said and spread his hand over her stomach. “Can’t wait for next year when it’s three.”

Chapter 10: Christmas 2022, The Spencer Farm, Louisiana

Notes:

Happy Christmas Eve!

Christmas 2022, The Spencer Farm, Louisiana

 

Eliot shook Vera awake in a panic.

“Where’s Emma?!” he asked.

They were in their bedroom after Eliot had sneaked back home for the second Christmas in a row. It was the dead of night and as he happily got ready to join his sleeping wife, he realized their daughter was not where she was supposed to be.

“Eliot?” Vera asked, disoriented.

“Where’s our daughter?!” he all but shrieked and Vera shushed him.

“She’s—oh my god!” She sat up, rubbing her eyes at the sudden light of the overhead lamp.

“Where is she?!” he asked again, frantically running to the door until Vera called him back.

“She’s in the guest bedroom,” she sighed, “with your dad.” A groan. “He offered to take on tonight in case she woke up so I could sleep.”

Eliot froze with his hand on the doorknob.

He was exhausted after the trucking company job—he was even pretty sure he had slept through part of it. Helping the orphanage afterwards had been a pleasure but seeing all the kids had made him miss his own, so after fulfilling Christmas dinner with the family—and acquiring the last Nana pie—he had raced home.

He had been so glad to see his sleeping wife that he had forgotten his dad was also in the house.

“Oh shit,” he said, scratching his head. Sheepishly he turned to Vera, who looked at him so grumpily—so angrily—that she never had looked more beautiful.

“Yeah,” she huffed. “I was going to get consecutive hours, babe! So much sleep!”

Eliot winced. “Are—are my dad and Emma okay?”

Vera dropped herself onto the pillows, covering her face with her hands, and groaned. “Yeah…” she said after a while. “They’re fine. Your dad’s… overbearing but—never mind.”

Still grimacing, Eliot walked back to the bed and Vera looked at him through her fingers—her eyebrows angry.

“I’m…” Eliot’s voice trailed. “…sorry?”

She squinted at him, then asked, “What’s in your hair?”

His hand shot up and remembered he had put in a top knot with a bow around it. “Oh um,” he cleared his throat. “You wanted me for Christmas? With a bow in my hair?”

Behind her hands he could see the smile form. He remembered their phone call as he cleared up the wrapping papers—full on dad mode he realized—and Vera had asked for it. He had forgotten about it when he thought Emma had been taken.

“Do I get to unwrap my present?” Vera murmured sultry, removing her hands.

“Will it make you forgive me for waking you up?”

“Depends if I like the gift,” she whispered and beckoned him closer. “And if the gift can stay quiet.”

She moved her legs so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Unlike usually, she was wearing full length pajamas and she slapped his hand away when he tried to unbutton her top.

“You, Eliot Spencer, are on the naughty list and you know it.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she bit and undid his belt. He was getting fully undressed bar the bow in his hair and Vera pulled him onto the bed so he was lying flat on his back in the middle. He whimpered as she straddled him and she covered his mouth with her palm. “I mean it—be quiet. I don’t want your dad walk in on us—”

Eliot groaned. “Don’t mention my dad while I’m naked,” he loud whispered once she removed her hand.

“Then be quiet.”

She reached up to his hair and slid the long ribbon from his hair, twirling it around her fingers. His hands were itching to get her naked, but he was met with a death grip around his wrist when he tried to slide his hands under her shirt.

“Naughty list,” she insisted and forced him to slacken his arm. She grabbed his other wrist, put his hands above his head and tied the ribbon around them.

Eliot blinked a couple of times. Whilst he had been tied up before, both in combat and… well…, he never had been with Vera. It made his cock thicken in anticipation and Vera noticed it straight away.

“I should leave you like this and just go to sleep,” she mumbled to herself, her wandering hand over his body saying otherwise.

They had taken it easy postpartum, strictly following Vera’s limits—not that they had a lot of opportunities to with a baby—and this might be the first time they had the bedroom to themselves at night.

Vera continued to skim her hands over his body, a scratch of his chest hair here and there. She was always careful with bruises.

“Who did this?” she murmured, trailing over a particular nasty one that covered his side.

“Dixie mafia,” he grunted and she grimaced, bending down to press a feather-light kiss on it.

“My strong husband,” she said softly and moved up to kiss him on the lips. Then she raked her hands over his scalp. “Your hair is so long.”

Eliot suppressed a smile. She must be extremely tired to almost sound drunk.

“You like it,” he said.

“I do…”

They kissed again. Lazily, languidly. Eliot wished he could roam her body with his hands but he kept at her mercy. Gently she grinded down over his cock and he moaned into her mouth. Immediately she shushed him.

Sitting up, she unbuttoned her top—revealing her heavy breasts with each button—and threw it to the side. She bent over low and pressed her chest to his face. Her soft skin and distinctive floral smell hit him like a drug and he kissed what she allowed him to kiss before she pulled back.

“I’m starting to like this present,” she murmured, “the present being torturing you.”

“I’ve had worse—” he began to say but then she took his cock into her hand, stroking it agonizingly slow.

“You want to retract that statement?”

He let out a moan and was again shushed.

“I mean it!” she snipped. “If you wake your dad or daughter, nobody is going to have a good night!” Her hand picked up the pace and she straddled his thigh, grinding down hard whilst still wearing her pajama leggings. She was already letting out tiny whimpers.

“Now who can’t keep quiet,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Shut up!”

As a solution to shut them both up, she leaned over and kissed him. Her free hand pawed at the ribbon around his wrists, but Eliot already half undid them and took it as permission to touch her. His hand soon enough found its way into her leggings and panties.

They got each other off dirtily, swallowing any noise either were letting out through kisses.

“How’s that, honey?” he whispered, his fingers rubbing her clit.

“So good,” she breathed. “I want this present every year.”

“You got it,” he said before he spurted come all over his stomach and her hand. Vera tensed in his arms at the same time, biting her lip down hard to stop from moaning and shuddered in pleasure. She collapsed on top of him, happily smiling as he wrapped his arms around her—the ribbon tangled between them.

“God I hope we didn’t wake up your dad,” she whispered.

“Please don’t mention my dad during the afterglow,” he whispered back, and they both laughed. After a few minutes, Eliot got up to clean himself and by the time he came back, Vera had already fallen asleep again.

He switched off the light and joined her, really hoping his dad was not going to barge into the room in the morning.

 

---

 

The next day Eliot was whistling Jingle Bells when his dad joined him in the kitchen.

“Ho ho ho!” Eliot exclaimed, plating him some breakfast. “Good to see you, old man. Is Vera feeding Emma? How was she?”

His father was looking at him deadpan, refusing to take a seat at the breakfast bar. He seemed very grumpy.

“My granddaughter was an angel,” he grunted, “unlike my son.”

Eliot sucked in his lips. “Pardon?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” His father squinted at him. “You know I sleep lighter than a dog hearing a cheese wrapper.”

Eliot’s face must have drained of any color as Billy shook his head in a way Eliot knew he was about to get a lecture that would make him feel like he was sixteen again. Taking a deep breath in, Billy ranted, “I offered your wife a full night of sleep because she’s been taking care of everything! By herself! You come barging in, wake up the whole house and—”

“Morning!” Vera said, smiling broadly whilst carrying Emma. The five month old began kicking her legs excitedly when she spotted Eliot.

“There’s my two favorites!” Eliot quickly diverted and ignored his father’s grunt. He immediately relieved Vera from their daughter, definitely not using her as a shield from his father, and planted many kisses on her cheeks.

Vera joined Billy at the breakfast bar and began tackling her own plate. “Starving,” she mumbled.

Billy simply hummed, still side-eyeing his son. “Might have to get a hotel,” he grunted before grabbing a plate himself. Vera sat up straight.

“Is the bed not comfortable?”

“Not for me,” Billy said gruffly, looking at his daughter-in-law with a raised eyebrow. “A hotel for you.”

Vera blushed a deep scarlet and Eliot exclaimed, “Dad!”

“Your wife deserves a night off, Eliot! Maybe a spa retreat—”

“I am not really a spa person—” Vera muttered.

“I’m—” Eliot tried, but Billy pointed at him.

“I know I am missing quite a few decades but I would have thought I had set a better example of being a present father—” He stopped as Vera had laid her hand on his arm.

They looked at each other as she quickly said, “How about we go sit on the porch for a sec?” She locked eyes with Eliot. “Just us two.”

Bouncing Emma in his arms, Eliot got the hint and kept his mouth shut as his wife and dad walked to the porch. He wasn’t sure what Billy and Vera had been going through in the few days whilst he wrapped up the rig job, but he felt like he was missing some context.

Emma gurgled and he kissed the top of her head. Then he smelled something.

“Woah, little dragon—that smells like a big poop.” He walked towards the nursery.

After changing Emma’s diaper and putting her down for a nap, Eliot returned to the living area where Vera and Billy just re-emerged to from the porch.

His dad looked at him ruefully.

“I’m sorry, son,” he said and Eliot looked at him in surprise, “I shouldn’t have lashed out.” He didn’t elaborate further and muttered he was going to lie down for a sec in the guestroom. Vera joined Eliot’s side and he gave her a questioning frown.

“C’mon,” she said, and took the second Spencer man onto the porch to chat.

“What was that all about?” Eliot finally asked and Vera sighed.

“Your dad is worried,” she said, forcing him to snuggle up with her.

“Why?”

“He’s just making a snap judgment,” she continued, “he’s only seen you at Thanksgiving and now. He’s worried you’re leaving me, and by extend Emma, alone too much.”

“But—” he started, backtracking to really think about it—because maybe he was?

“You’re not,” Vera insisted quickly. “I think he’s comparing deployment with what you do. He doesn’t really understand the difference, but he’s worried you’re abandoning your family the way…” she trailed off, but Eliot knew what she meant.

“The way I abandoned him?” he finished.

“Mostly your mom,” she said quietly.

“Ah.” He frowned. “So the hotel—”

“Was to give me a break, but also to give you the mental and physical load of taking care of a baby. And to probably give you a piece of his mind.”

Eliot swallowed.

“But… I know. I know how hard it is,” he murmured. “And you know how much I… admire you, right?”

“I know,” Vera said and her eyes shone with tears. “Your dad made wild assumptions, and also I kind of did not ask for his help whatsoever when he arrived. He didn’t realize I am very independent by default.” She raked through his hair with her fingers. “You’re an amazing dad, I assured him of that.”

“I should—” Eliot tried to get up. “I should talk to him.”

“Later,” Vera murmured. “He’s still digesting what I told him.”

“What did you tell him?” he asked.

“I told him about my parents.”

He blinked, staring at her. Vera never spoke about her parents. Part of him hoped the silence would let her open up and she rolled her eyes.

“It must be the holidays,” she sighed, “it’s when I think about them the most. And I guess having Emma too. It’s weird that they may never know about her.”

“You want to… tell me?” Eliot tried and Vera smiled joylessly.

“It’s been quite a while now, after… well, after Hol-he—” she said, referring to her stalker, “—tried the first time, I was just a kid. I was in pain from the empfinium, no doctor could figure it out. My parents—they couldn’t figure it out. Figure out what to do with me, even after Dr Wagenaar helped me.”

She stared at him with big hazel eyes.

“My parents are very middle class, very obsessed with their image. To have a daughter that potentially had mental issues?” She huffed. “They couldn’t bare the thought, so I offered them a way out. I would ‘finish’ my studies in the US. They didn’t even care enough to question it. I pretended I had a scholarship.”

“Oh hon,” Eliot’s voice cracked at seeing the tears on her cheeks but she waved him off.

“After we met, and Alec helped me disappear from the FBI, I knew I couldn’t go back to them yet. So I stayed in London until I woke up in a hotel room in the arms of a very, very, handsome man.” She smiled at him. “And after the little showdown, I thought that maybe it was time. Time to go home.”

Eliot swallowed. He knew she hadn’t lasted long, despite there being two years between then and Greece. “What happened?”

“You mean after I left a very, very, handsome man in a different hotel room?” She smirked before turning serious again. “I went back home, but I very quickly realized I didn’t belong there. Or more so, I didn’t fit in with their image.

“I was ferociously independent. Very strong sense of justice, and well—no one believed that I had been a victim.” Eliot contorted his hand into a fist and his knuckles cracked. Vera reached to take his hands in hers. “It’s okay—”

“I can’t believe—”

“It’s okay,” she said again. “I’ve made my peace. The door is closed. After I gave them a piece of my mind of course. My grandmother, Emma, tried to mediate, but once that black sheep label found its way onto me—that was it. No contact for anyone.”

Eliot chewed on his tongue.

“Why did you tell my dad this?”

She shrugged. “To make him understand me a little bit more. To show I am not bothered if you run off to help others, because you always make your way home to me. I wouldn’t be with you if I thought you wouldn’t.”

He cupped her jaw and kissed her. “I’ll always come home to you,” he said.

“I know. Your dad didn’t give you a chance to show what happens when you do.”

Eliot realized she was right. Usually the second he got home, he took on baby duty straight away—mostly because he missed his daughter intensely. He was scared that by being away he was going to miss so many moments, so many milestones.

Swallowing, he realized he might have to start thinking about his future at Leverage.

“Anyway, I hope it was all right for me to talk to your dad,” Vera said, disturbing his thoughts. “I hadn’t have the chance to debrief to you when you came home because, well… we got distracted.”

“We usually do,” he said softly. “Hon… I—Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being open with me. About your family.”

He knew he had only received breadcrumbs, but he was going to take anything she offered. She smiled, but in a way that didn’t feel fully sincere.

“Families are hard,” she said. “It’s kind of why I liked all of our unconventional Christmases throughout the years.”

“You beat up a robber one year,” Eliot reminded her, eyeing her ring.

“I know!” She smiled broadly now—happier. “C’mon.” She tapped his leg. “Let’s go show your dad how well we work together.”

“You don’t mean—”

“Yep,” she said, jumping up. “Christmas charades!”

He shook his head, following her back inside and promising next year he would just be home for Christmas. A promise he kept, though he began to miss his found family during it.

Chapter 11: Christmas 2023, The Spencer Farm, Louisiana

Christmas 2023, The Spencer Farm, Louisiana

 

“What’s causing the frown?” Vera asked from the couch opposite his. She was curled up with, predictably, a book, and Eliot sat on his side trying to make an old gameboy for Breanna work. He had promised gifts once he was back from his outside of Leverage ‘job’—the job being spending the whole of December at home with his wife and kid—and he was one error beep away from punching the device.

“Stupid graphics card,” he gritted, shaking the game console.

“I’m sure Bree would happily fix it herself,” she murmured and he stared at her.

Vera had never met Breanna.

His wife, however, looked at him over her glasses. “You talk enough about her for me to know,” she said, reading his mind.

He swallowed.

“I talk a lot about them, don’t I?”

“They’re your family.”

“You’re my family.”

“Two things can be true,” she said simply and flipped a page. With a sigh Eliot put down the gameboy and stared at his wife.

It was late Christmas Day, and Emma had been bathed and tucked into bed. The little dragon was a year and a half now, and it was killing Eliot slowly that no one of his family had met her.

He imagined Parker would be very disappointed Emma’s first words weren’t ‘Glenn-Rieder’. Squeezing his eyes closed, he knew he shouldn’t have imagined that—but now that he had, he pictured a Christmas where he hadn’t kept Vera and Emma a secret.

Parker would be redecorating their tree with crystals from a chandelier belonging to the palace of Versailles.

Sophie would be discussing some upcoming film adaptation of a book that Vera edited and wondering if Vera would have any influence of the casting.

Emma would have Hardison wrapped around her little finger, ordering him to carry her everywhere.

And Bree and Harry would be playing video games.

Then Eliot imagined he and Vera announcing they were expecting their second baby, even though they hadn’t had any luck yet.

Ruefully he shook his head back to reality and continued looking at his wife. Whilst they had agreed to try for baby number two a few months ago, it hadn’t been as fast as when they tried for Emma. Vera had decided they shouldn’t try for the sake of trying and instead they just had sex whenever they felt like it.

He hoped Vera didn’t experience the same immense disappointment he went through when she got her period every month.

“That frown keeps on frowning,” Vera said, not even looking up.

“Just…” he cleared his throat, “a lot going on.”

“Still recovering from being Santa?” She smirked and Eliot growled. He shouldn’t have revealed he once grifted as a mall Santa for a job. Vera thought it would be funny to get him a suit and take pictures with Emma.

“Don’t know why you’re complaining,” she continued, “I liked the beard.”

Self consciously he scratched his scruff. “Yeah? And what would Emma think if she saw mommy kiss Santa Clause?”

“Bring out Santa and we’ll see,” she said, as a joke most definitely—but Eliot didn’t shy away from a challenge. Under the pretense of checking on Emma, he hoisted himself back into the suit in their bedroom and returned to the living room.

He leaned over the couch and murmured into her ear from behind, “Heard you were interested in kissing me?”

With a confused look she turned to look over her shoulder and she burst out in laughter. “Oh my god!”

Eliot pulled the beard down, grinning. “What do you say? A kiss for Santa?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“As a married woman though… it will put you on the naughty list.”

Her laugh became even louder as he walked around to join her on the couch, taking the book from her hands and removing her glasses.

“Santa’s quite a bit fitter than this morning,” she observed—Eliot hadn’t put on the extra padding and he sat down next to her.

“Oh yeah? Why won’t you come sit on Santa’s lap.” He slapped his thighs and she giggled. “I promise I won’t tell your husband.”

When she didn’t move, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto him—her legs spread wide over his as she sat down. Her smile was dazzling and without saying a word she leaned down to kiss him.

He let his hands roam over the crazy Christmas leggings she loved wearing so much around this time and explored the soft skin underneath her sweater.

“Very presumptuous, Santa!” she exclaimed, breaking their kiss.

“Santa’s gotta check,” he said and cupped one of her breasts. “Check it twice actually.” He cupped the other and Vera rolled up her sweater to give him a delicious view of her chest. She giggled after he pressed a kiss on her breastbone.

“What?” he asked. “What’s funny?”

“The beard tickles.” She bit her lip and looked at him with hooded eyes. In one clean swoop, Eliot pulled the fake beard and hat over his head, making Vera let out a fake gasp. “Oh my—Santa! You’re gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” Eliot murmured and re-positioned her so she sat right onto his bulging hard on. “Santa likes what he sees too.”

Whimpering, Vera grinded down before pulling his face against her chest again. He kissed every inch of her, nipping and sucking at her nipples. She gasped for real this time around when he pulled her nipple with his teeth.

One of his hands slipped into her leggings and panties and slid his fingers over her already wet clit.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “what were you reading?”

Though he prided himself on getting his wife horny as hell, he didn’t think the Santa suit would be that effective.

“Shut up,” Vera breathed and kissed him to distract him. She moaned into his mouth as he let one finger slip between her hot folds, pumping in and out.

“Might have to read it after you if it gets you this hot and bothered,” he murmured and pulled her leggings down.

“Shut up and fuck me in this ridiculous Santa suit.” She got up to kick off the leggings and her panties and Eliot pulled down his red velvet pants and boxers to his knees. His cock bopped up long and hard and Vera licked her lips. He knew what she had in mind but before she could bend down to suck him, he pulled her back onto him so she was straddling him.

“You said you wanted to be fucked,” he reminded her.

“I also told you to shut up,” she teased back and kissed him. Blindly both reached for his cock, stroking it in sync with each other, and guided it into her hot and wet pussy. God he loved that every time being inside of her was as exciting as the first and last time.

He would never be bored of this.

Never be bored of her.

Gripping her hips he slammed her down so she was fully on his lap and they both moaned.

“Is this how women on the naughty list sit on Santa’s lap?” she whispered hotly and he grabbed her jaw.

“No,” he grunted, thumbing her lower lip, “only his wife gets to do that.”

With a satisfied smirk, Vera moved up before slamming back down again. They found a rhythm, and Eliot realized she was still in equally ridiculous Christmas socks. Somehow he found that all the more sexy.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held onto him. His lips latched onto her throat and he sucked hard, making her whimper. Thankfully she had forgo a turtle neck today, though she may have to wear one the rest of winter break with the marks he was leaving.

“El—” she moaned. “Babe!” Her voice rose when he nipped at his favorite spot between her jaw and ear. He had his arm firmly around her waist, still pushing her down and pulling her up. His hips bucked up to thrust in even deeper.

Gasping and whimpering, both grabbed and squeezed what they could. Eliot’s fingers dug in deep into her ass and she shuddered when he gave it a hard spank. Vera’s hands in return were holding onto his hair, pulling his head back and she kissed him desperately with her mouth open, her tongue seeking his.

He spanked her again and moved his hand to her clit, rubbing her in tandem with his thrusts.

“Oh!” she gasped into his mouth. “Oh please!”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Fuck—fuckfuck—”

She tensed in his arms, her lips agape in a silent cry, and he rubbed her clit without stopping—faster and faster until he felt her tighten around his cock. She came in shudders, everything overstimulating her—from the feeling of her socks to her nipples grazing over the velvet jacket of his Santa suit.

Eliot dug his fingers deeper into the flesh of her ass and fucked her without restraint. Vera was mewling at the over-sensitivity and he let his climax wash over him, coming deep inside of her pussy.

The suit was overheating him as he collapsed onto the couch, Vera still on his lap, but he didn’t care and pulled her into a gentle kiss. With a soft whimper, she sat up slightly and his wet cock flopped onto his thigh.

“Fucking hell, babe,” Vera panted and rolled off him.

“Anytime,” he said hoarsely. “But maybe not in the suit.”

She laughed. It was a glorious sound.

“I hope we didn’t wake her,” she added, looking at the baby monitor.

“You know she sleeps like a log the first few hours,” Eliot reminded her. “It’s her early morning adventures that keep us up.”

Vera had a dopey smile, her body limbless next to him. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.”

“Now what was causing that frown earlier.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking his cock back into his boxers—it was not a conversation he wanted to have with his dick out. Vera, too, wiggled herself back into her panties—but stayed in her socks and sweater before snuggling up against him.

“I…” he started, trailing back, but then he looked at her face—a face his daughter started to look like more and more every day—and sighed, “I’m tired of keeping secrets.”

She nodded solemnly. “What secrets?”

“You. Emma.”

“I see,” she said, deducing, “from your family?”

He dropped his chin onto his chest. “Three years ago… when we—” He stopped, finding it painful to talk about their break up.

“When we weren’t together, yes,” she said bluntly as always and he huffed.

“What were you up to?” he tried, diverting his story and she gave him a look.

“You want to talk about my non sexual marriage to my best friend?”

“No!”

“Then what were you doing that year?”

Grimacing, he recalled, “I—we were doing a job. A stupid job that wasn’t supposed to be a job—long story—but I ended up getting drugged with Red—”

“—Haze,” Vera breathed.

“Yes!” Eliot frowned. “How’d you know?”

She shook her head. “Just a guess,” she cleared her throat, “it’s similar to Lavender Haze.”

“Yeah,” he said, “both are just as terrible.”

Vera had gone quite still, frozen in a way that made him think that she was scared but he didn’t get to question it because she quickly said, “Red Haze bring up the worst of the worst… what… what did you see?”

He looked at her and softly told her, “You.”

Her breath hitched but she suppressed it. She couldn’t stop the fat tear from rolling down her cheek though.

“Oh hon,” he said, cupping her jaw and wiping it away.

“I—I brought up bad memories?” she asked, her voice cold.

“No—no—” he said quickly. “I’m not being clear. You—thinking of you—put the bad memories to rest. I thought of all of our Christmases together, about all of our adventures. You kept the worst of the worst away.” He swallowed and Vera blinked at him.

“You—you fought the Red Haze?”

“I have a lot of bad memories, they could have driven me crazy, but you were my balm. The calmness to stay sane enough to be rescued.” He cradled her face, resting their foreheads together. “I thought of you in all your crazy eras and felt at ease.”

A soft hiccup escaped her throat. “You loved my crazy eras. I still have the red lingerie set.”

“Would love to see it again,” he said with a grin.

“Wait—” she pulled back. “You thought of all of our Christmases together?”

“Every single one,” and the one after, but he didn’t want to tell her that.

Her expression drifted away in thought before she looked at him accusingly. “You thought about us having sex in the hot tub whilst you were being tortured?!”

He shrugged. “It was a very memorable Christmas.”

Aghast she slapped his chest and then covered her own mouth. “Our first Christmas—”

“Yeah, I still don’t know where you got that video from.” He smirked.

“Oh my god, the first time in the loft—”

“Also very memorable.”

She stood up, eyes darting rapidly before resting on him. “And the team thought you were going through the worst of the worst?”

He winced. “Desperate times call for desperate measures?”

Pacing the floor in her sweater and socks, Vera shook her head. “The Rockettes!” she suddenly said, excitedly.

“Actually more thought about the jewelry store heist,” he admitted and she pouted.

“The Rockettes were very memorable to me.”

“I know.”

She slumped back onto the couch. “But,” she said, frowning, “what does that have to do with keeping me and Emma secret from your family? If you want to tell them about our memorable Christmases, I have objections—”

“No, no,” he said quickly, “it’s not that. Our client, the mark—long story—we had a chat about how we both were just… waiting. Waiting too long. Initially it was about my dad, but I’m scared now that I am waiting too long… about you.”

Her eyes were glassy. “You want to tell them about me? About Emma? About us?” She gestured between them with her hand, her wedding ring shining in the light.

“I think I do,” he said, suddenly calm at the realization. “If you’re ready, I know we had reasons to fake your death—”

She stopped him from finishing his thought. “I am who I want to be. I wouldn’t mind to help—as seen with the jewelry heist, it actually helps me when I’m a bit… stressed, but other than that, I think your family is solid and wouldn’t be up to their old tricks.”

He breathed in deeply through his nose. “I’ll—I’ll have to wait for the right opportunity.”

“Of course,” she said, “but we might want to set a deadline? From what you’ve been saying, Hardison’s facial recognition software is getting better by the day. I would rather have you tell them than accidentally being spotted on a CCTV camera at a grocery store.”

Eliot agreed. “Okay, then it’s set. Next year by this time, everyone will know and we’ll be celebrating Christmas together.” A weight fell off his shoulders, not realizing he still had a very long year ahead of him.

But at least for now, he was happy with their plan—and they spent the rest of December trying for their second baby.

Though not whilst wearing the Santa suit.

Chapter 12: Christmas 2024, Leverage Headquarters, New Orleans

Christmas 2024, Leverage Headquarters, New Orleans

 

 

Eliot declined the beer Hardison offered.

“Gotta stay sober in case she goes into labor,” he said, nudging his head towards Vera, who was napping on the couch in the theater—her belly extremely round.

The theater was even more decorated than the previous years, courtesy of Parker. She had been ecstatic that they were celebrating it at headquarters and was doing her best to trump even Eliot and Vera’s wedding—with success. The mood was jolly as Christmas music and laughter filled the space.

Sophie and Parker were showing Emma all the shiny ornaments in the tree, telling her where and how they had ‘obtained’ some.

Harry and Jake were discussing something boring, probably, and Bree was on their computer—they had recently come out as non-binary—with their brow furrowed.

Eliot and Hardison were at the bar, taking it all in.

“Look at all of us,” Hardison said with a grin. “One big happy family.”

“Took a while, but we got there,” said Eliot, but Hardison was shifting nervously on his feet.

“Would have been a shame if there had been an opportunity for it to happen faster,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “Say if, hypothetically, someone has known… where she was…” He stared at Eliot, waiting for him to explode at him, but Eliot kept looking at his napping wife. “If that person—”

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically! They, um—” Hardison cleared his throat, “—could have told you where she was.”

“But instead that person kept it secret?” Eliot said, side-eyeing him.

Hardison deflated. “Vera told you?”

“Nah, man.” Eliot shook his head. “You told on yourself.”

When he had revealed Vera to the team during the fertility clinic job, but withheld the fact that they were together, Hardison had been in Turkey. It had been three and a half years of him knowing Vera wasn’t dead, and he learned Eliot had found her via text messages from the team.

 

Breeyonce: yo does the name ‘vera’ ring any bells to you?

Pretzel: VERA IS A ZOMBIE BACK FROM THE DEAD

Razzie Winner: Hardison, how can a woman dead for eleven years not show up on any of your programs?

Breeyonce: yo i think eliot is in love with her but they keep saying she’s married so i don’t know if we can make the husband like… disappear?

Pretzel: SHE’S MULTIPLYING TOO! TINY VERA!

 

Hardison had dialed Eliot’s number before even finishing reading all the messages, but the coward didn’t pick up. He couldn’t believe Eliot had found her and that they were about to do a job together whilst she was married and pregnant. Eliot was going to break his own heart if even Bree could sense he was still in love with Vera.

So without thinking, he texted Eliot.

 

H: Give me Vera’s number

Smelliot: No.

H: How did you find her? Did she find you?

Smelliot: It’s a long story.

H: She’s married, Eliot. You cut your hair for her dammit. You can’t just forgive and forget—give me her number.

Smelliot: No.

 

Hardison had tried to see if he could get Bree to clone Vera’s phone, but they were off doing the job and he was alone in Turkey quietly seething. There was still a stupid protection filter on the Mississippi house and he couldn’t find anything connected to her. So he continued to blow up Eliot’s phone with texts as he refused to pick up whenever he called. The rest of the team kept him updated however.

 

Pretzel: Vera is multiplying with an accountant?

Breeyonce: yeah we gotta get rid of this husband—like who wakes up one day and becomes an accountant? surely eliot will happily be a stepdad?

Pretzel: Promise me we’ll never be as boring as Vera and her husband

H to Smelliot: Her husband sounds boring as fuck

Hairy: I know it’s none of my business, but I think Eliot has got it really bad for Vera. Also Vera is a creepily good grifter, so I’m worried for him.

 

“What are you two doing, man,” Hardison huffed. What was Vera thinking? She had been on the brink of tears of Eliot even potentially finding out that she was alive and now she was just stringing him along? Something was… off.

 

Breeyonce: vera’s leaving tomorrow

H to Breeyonce: Put a tracker on her.

Breeyonce: i like ur style

 

Hardison wished he had time to dig deeper, but the servers in Ankara needed his attention. Quietly he worked, his mind reeling at all the scenarios of what happened after Christmas four years ago.

Bree had mentioned the two of them had Coney Island as their safeword, and Hardison knew Eliot pinged in Brooklyn a few times a year (it didn’t matter how well Eliot thought he was at being off the grid, Hardison was always worried in September and December so he kept tabs on him), but he figured that Eliot just had a buddy there as he hadn’t gone there since 2021.

There was definitely something going on that he couldn’t quite put his finger onto.

Until a week after the fertility clinic job—when Parker called.

“You being a night owl again?” he picked up with. “Isn’t it like the middle of the—”

“Someone’s taken Vera,” Parker said.

It was morning in Ankara and Hardison dropped the cup he had been drinking coffee from. The terracotta shattered on the floor.

“What?” he breathed. “Who? Why?”

“She got taken from a farm near Dulac,” Parker began to summarize and Hardison took his laptop out. “About one hour ago. She got taken by helicopter—”

“Wait, wait,” he said. “A farm near Dulac? Eliot’s farm?”

Parker went quiet and Hardison began to rationalize. Obviously Eliot and Vera are hanging out again—so why wouldn’t she visit him at his home? … In the middle of the night?

“Hardison,” Parker said gently. “Remember when I broke into his farm before we went to help the London crew in April?”

Hardison frowned. “Yeah, you said he got really into toys.” Each to their own, man, he thought. Parker had been in a rush grabbing things from his closet, so God knew what she must have found in there.

With a swallow, Parker continued, “Remember when two years ago I told you he was being weird around his dad?”

“Babe, what does that have to do with Vera being—”

“He was doing his stance,” she said quickly, “his Vera stance.”

His nose flared. “What—what are you saying?”

“I am telling you that a pregnant woman has been taken,” she said curtly, “who happens to be Eliot’s wife.”

 

---

 

Three days later, Hardison entered a room with explosives and a blindfolded Vera in San Lorenzo. She looked both the same and not the same as three and a half years ago—the main difference being the pregnant belly.

After they learned who had taken her and where, the team realized Hardison was the closest to San Lorenzo. It was only then Eliot had dared to speak with him on the phone.

“Listen,” he told Eliot. “You and Vera will have a lot of explaining to do once we bury Moreau—”

“I’m arranging you Moreau’s helicopter.” Eliot sounded rough.

“—I am trying to be nice to you because you got a lot going on—”

“Marco and the internationals are ready to enter if you can make it for Plan G.”

“I’m gonna plan M your ass when I see you!”

“Dammit Hardison!” Eliot snapped, before quietly sighing, “Please.”

He knew the please meant many things.

Please give it a rest.

Please focus on the task at hand.

Please forgive me.

So he conceded and was now standing in front of the woman who had tearfully asked him not to tell Eliot she was alive—the man she had now married, or maybe already been married to? No, Eliot had seemed serious about Maria.

It was then Vera’s breath hitched and she knew someone was there.

“Eliot?” she asked and Hardison rolled his eyes a little bit at that.

“Much better than that, mama,” he said, and within fifteen minutes they were safely in Moreau’s helicopter—the North wing blazing behind them.

“You okay?” Hardison asked as the helicopter flew to a nearby island. Vera looked pale, clutching her belly.

“M’fine,” she said, breathing in deeply. “Just need to known if—” She rubbed her baby bump. Hardison, unsure of what to do, grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

“They’ll be fine,” he assured. “They’re part Damsel part Spencer after all.”

Her face softened slightly. “Oh Alec,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, next time you get yourself kidnapped, don’t call me—”

“Not just for that,” she interrupted, breathing heavily. “Thank you for keeping my secret.” The grip slackened on his hand as she fainted. Panic biled up in his throat and all he could do was urge for the helicopter to go faster.

“Please be okay,” he murmured. “Please.”

At the hospital he had anxiously watched her wake up again to all the doctor’s doing tests. Once she was considered stable, he called Eliot to give the news. God only knew what would have happened to Moreau if it had been bad.

He entered her room and Vera looked at him, disoriented.

“Eliot?” she asked hoarsely.

“He’s on his way,” Hardison told her and she sagged against the pillows. He knew it wasn’t the time to ask for answers, so he quietly waited outside for Eliot to arrive.

During the days that followed, Hardison learned bits and pieces of what had actually happened after Vera ‘died’ in Greece. It was when they were planning the wedding once back in New Orleans that Hardison dared to bring up the Red Haze Christmas.

“You weren’t with Vera then, were you?”

Eliot grunted. “No.” He was making a list of things he needed for his trip to The Netherlands to pick up Vera’s engagement ring—and grandmother. “Rough patch.”

“Tough,” Hardison said. “Which was when she—”

“Had an amicable green card marriage to Jake.”

“Who—”

“Works for a secret agency so secret not even you could find the name of it.”

Which was why the house in Mississippi had a protection filter, Hardison realized. He wanted to ask Eliot if he had tried to find her during that period, but Eliot seemed reluctant to talk about it. This was how he was still stuck with his secret all the way up to Christmas.

“How did I tell on myself?” he demanded to know and Eliot just chuckled.

“You questioned the wrong things,” he said, looking at him. “You wanted to solve it, for sure—but only the things that were nagging you.” He shook his hair back. “When she came back for that clinic job, everybody asked why she had faked her death, but not you… You asked how I found her. Of if she had found me.”

“I—”

“Because you already knew the answer to the why, so you wanted to know what you didn’t.” He slapped his arm. “I know you, man. When something’s nagging you, you have to solve it. So you told on yourself.”

“When did you realize?” Hardison asked.

At this Eliot chewed the inside of his cheek, seemingly considering his options, and finally said, “Red Haze.”

“Red Haze?”

“She knew about the Red Haze.” Eliot looked at Vera, who was still sleeping. “Last year I brought it up. She was so anxious about it. She thought she triggered the worst of the worst memories.”

Hardison sucked in his lips—he was the one that had told her that. He was the one that accused her for causing the worst of the worst.

“I narrowed it down to it being you when you asked your questions,” Eliot continued.

“I’m sorry, man,” Hardison began, ignoring Eliot waving him off. “We all got worried when you mentioned her name during the Red Haze and it nagged me and I found her. She convinced me not to tell you. Somehow I believed you really thought she was dead.”

Eliot huffed a little. “You believed a grifter?”

“She’s got integrity!”

“She’s the Damsel,” Eliot said. “It’s what makes her the best.”

Hardison shook his head. “So you’re not mad I didn’t tell you? You could’ve reunited quicker.”

They both watched Parker and Sophie giving Emma a present—some highly coveted doll that Eliot didn’t want to know the lore about.

“No,” he said finally. “We needed the time apart.” He clapped on Hardison’s shoulder. “Now I gotta ask you something that’s been nagging me.”

“Really? What?”

“How did you find her?”

“Ah.” Hardison couldn’t stop the cheeky grin from coming and handed Eliot a wrapped Christmas present. “I am the best after all.”

With a frown, Eliot tore the paper off and his face softened instantly at the reveal. It was a framed photograph of him and Vera at his old Boston warehouse, one the sniper took.

They looked… young.

His thumb glided over Vera with her brown hair and bangs. He wondered how these young versions of them would react if they knew what to future looked like.

His voice was thick when he uttered his thanks to Hardison, but the moment was short lived as he spotted Emma running up to Vera to show her her new doll. He put the frame on the bar and intercepted his daughter mid run, his arms around her waist as he hoisted her up. “Mommy’s real tired, remember?” he told her and the toddler shrieked happily.

It was enough for Vera to wake from her nap and both Eliot and Hardison winced. She looked utterly grumpy.

“I’ll take this one,” Hardison said quickly, grabbing Emma from Eliot’s arms. “Good luck!” And he ran off to join Bree and their frown.

Eliot pushed himself off the bar, watching Vera get up from the couch with difficulty.

“Babe?” she called and Eliot grabbed her hand.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he said quickly. “Let’s go to the courtyard.”

She moaned, her steps slow and uneven. “I know I complain a lot about Emma having a dramatic early entrance but I’m kind of ready for this one to make an appearance.”

“I know,” he said, his hand soothing her back.

They stood in the middle of the courtyard, Vera panting and stopping. “Everything hurts.”

Eliot’s heart tugged at her discomfort and he molded himself behind her, forcing her to lean against him. “Here,” he said softly and wrapped his arms around her, his hands right under her bump and gently raised it.

“Oh my god,” Vera moaned, dropping her head on his shoulder. “Oh this is the best Christmas present.”

“I dunno, you say that every year,” Eliot said with a grin and kissed her throat.

He knew she was smiling too when she said, “True, last year was very… memorable.”

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s do some sidewalk stepping and get this baby going!”

“Ugh, fine.”

And they giggled like teenagers as they left the courtyard, Hardison watching them whilst shaking his head.

“Multiplying,” he murmured to himself and then gave Bree a pat on the head. They were still staring at their screen. “What are you frowning about?”

With a sigh they said, “Empfinium.”

“God not you too,” he groaned. “That damn flower has destroyed lives, it’s not worth obsessing about.” Bree looked up and then showed him their screen. It was a map pinned with potential Empfinium hotspots.

“With San Lorenzo out of the picture, it is surely going to show up again? There’s even talk of mutations that can survive tropical climates.”

Hardison hummed—that would explain some of the highlighted pins.

Especially a large one in The Philippines.

 

 

Notes:

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you had a good festive period!

Not to get sappy, but I have thoroughly enjoyed writing for you all in 2024. I can't believe I spiralled back into Leverage, finished a fanfic I came up with in 2010 and ended up meeting Gina, Aleyse and Christian, visited New Orleans and the HQ set (and have heard John Rogers tell us all that our fanfics are valid)!

Now I've done a bit of re-editing of the previous jobs, just lots of punctuation quirks I have, so hopefully it will improve the reading experience. As this collection of jobs is a pure self indulgence for myself, I have created a fully formatted epub of it - if anyone has any interest in it, please send me a DM!

Have a great end of the year, and who knows when we see each other next ;)

xx

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 9 of The Damsel Collection