FIC: I Have Many Skills - Part 2
May. 31st, 2009 08:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
paulacasTitle: I Have Many Skills
Author: YanzaDracan
Fandom: Leverage/Supernatural
Pairing: Eliot/Dean; Eliot/Nate
Rating: FRM
Summary: Prompt – Eliot grew up a hunter’s son. Somehow the comment fic I wrote for nail polish and eyeliner (it's not what you think!) mutated and started collecting other prompts. This is absolutely positively Hawk Dancing's fault.
With an eye roll he turned back. “What now?”
“You—uh,” Nate waved a finger back and forth, “you smeared your lipstick.”
The chuckle from the hitter was low and naughty. “So did you, Nate.”
http://yanzadracan.livejournal.com/24272.html
Part 2
Eliot stalked up to doorman at Dark of the Moon. Stan saw the path Eliot was blazing through the crowd and had the door open before the man could growl his displeasure at being summoned to the club.
Jacob Dunham, retired hunter of the supernatural, collector of arcane weapons and artifacts, owner of a string of successful clubs that cater to the goth crowd, a flaming queen while at the club, and has known Eliot Spencer since he was born.
“This better be good.” Eliot growled at his mentor while throwing himself into the empty leather chair. “I have something cooking and I need to get back.”
“Ah, beautiful boy, you’re too intense. You need to take time to relax.” Jacob handed the younger man a cup Earl Grey, and planted a kiss on the top of his head.
“Could you focus, Jacob? What’s so all fired important that I had pull out my Goth!Ken doll costume and rush down here?”
“I need your abilities to ‘read’ something for me.” Jacob gushed.
Eliot’s chin dipped to his chest in exasperation as the former hunter swished across the room to his safe. It was hard to believe the man used to kill creatures that go bump in the night.
“That’s a crap safe, Uncle Jake, and not where you want to keep your kind of collectibles, and FYI I don’t ‘read’ anymore.” Eliot fought to not curl his fingers, wishing he’d worn his other gloves.
“Ah, but I know a world class retrieval specialist that will get them back for me should they disappear.” He placed an antique box on the desk. “And you can feed that crap to someone else, son.” All traces of the flaming queen disappeared and only the ex-hunter sat next to him. “Your Grandaddy MacDonal knew what he was doin’ when he didn’t fuss about your mama marryin’ yer daddy. Brigit havin the ‘sight’ and Hawk comin’ from a long line of Cherokee shamans made a hell of a mix in you. Them abilities are in yer blood, boy, no way you git to deny ‘em.”
“Then he oughta be fuckin’ ecstatic while he rots in hell that his little breedin’ program worked. Hunter and psychic all in one. Shame mama ruined his plans dyin’ like that.” Eliot slammed the cup down so hard it cracked, but resisted the urge to pace.
Jacob pulled back at the venom in the young man’s voice. He knew Eliot didn’t actively hunt anymore, but if he ran across something he’d take care of it.
He’d watched Eliot grow up too fast. Having a foot in three worlds, the boy had grown a hard shell few people got through.
A chuckle drew Jacob from his memories. Like quicksilver, Eliot had quashed the memories of his Irish grandfather.
“What’s so funny?” Jacob relaxed.
“You look like Tim Curry in Rocky Horror, but sound like Bobby Singer.” His expression became serious again. “So let’s see whatever it is, I’d like to get back to more important things than your little dramas.”
Grinning knowingly, Jacob opened the box. Inside was a knife. Fashioned after a Scottish dirk, the handle and the blade were etched with runes and symbols. Bare fingertips hovered, but didn’t touch. Eyes narrowed as Eliot turned back to his old friend.
“Where did you get this, and what do you know?”
Queen persona back in place, Jacob’s voice was coquettish when he answered. “Samuel Colt had a ‘companion’ of many years. He was a blacksmith of the first order. Colt made his gun, and Dean Turner made a knife.” He let the implication dangle.
Keeping his usual scowl in place Eliot picked up the knife and lowered his internal shields. The power of the weapon rushed through his body as the life of the knife flashed through this mind. In a twist of his abilities, the knife ‘showed’ him two likenesses of Dean Winchester, and only years of controlling his body language kept him from reacting to what he saw. Dean Winchester was a direct descendent of Dean Turner and the knife wanted to go to the present day Dean.
Though he and Dean had stopped hunting together when Dean had gone to Stanford after Sam, the Winchesters still made use of Eliot’s abilities, and his information network. They even remained occasional lovers until after John died. John dying drastically changed the three men’s dynamic, but Eliot was still protective of the brothers.
Suspicious, Eliot replaced the knife. “Why did you really call me, Jacob? You already know about the knife.”
“You’re the only person’s that’s been able to handle the knife without nasty consequences.” Dunham hinted.
“You wanna know how that makes you a buck, old man?” Pale eyes narrowed as he watched Jacob.
“You wound me, my boy.” Jacob cooed. “I want to know what I’m supposed to do with it.”
“Give it to me.” Eliot shut the lid on the box.
“Are you outa your fuckin’ mind? Do you know how much that cost me?” Jacob yelled, the hunter overriding the queen again.
Eliot cocked an eyebrow. “You called me.”
“Absolutely not.” He stuck his nose in the air.
An evil grin crossed the retrievalist’s face. “Does Maurice still follow you around with his groupies?”
The club owner paled under his makeup. The one and only time Maurice and Eliot crossed paths Jacob had had to close the club for a month to repair the damage. Eliot had not taken kindly to Maurice trying to ‘persuade’ the mercenary to join his little clique.
“Fine, but you owe me.” He grumbled.
“I’ll have Parker steal you something pretty.” Eliot chided.
Tucking the dirk in the secure pocket inside his jacket, Eliot headed for the door.
“Don’t be such a stranger, sweetie.” Jacob checked his makeup before heading out behind the younger man.
“Yeah, well next time don’t make me come to the club.” Eliot growled. He turned and gave his mentor a hug. “Though I am about to enjoy the effects of the leather and lace.” He leered.
“Does he know about you?” Jacob was now concerned.
“They know what they need to know.”
Not giving the older man a chance to scold, Eliot disappeared in the crowd.
Power from the arcane weapon, still running along his nerves, Eliot secured the knife before following his senses to where Nate sat on the balcony.
“Good thing you didn’t make me come lookin’.” Nate nearly came undone at the growled words.
Hand fisted in the short curls, Eliot pulled the older man’s head back and captured his mouth in a hard kiss. Eliot might let Nate be in charge at the office, but here—here he was the alpha.
Lust and power buzzing his brain, the enforcer did his best impersonation of a cave man, dragging Nate from the balcony to his bed. By the time Nate registered what was happening, he was naked, spread out, leaking and hard on the king sized bed. The sight of Eliot in nothing but his leather pants, cock pushing against the laces, was incentive to stay that way.
Nate’s mouth went dry as Eliot slowly unlaced the skin tight leather allowing his hard length to spring free. Watching the smaller man stalk over to the bed, Nate would swear the man glowed. He was so captivated by the feral man lowering himself to the bed that his mouth and body were captured, and he had yet to mutter a coherent word.
Overloaded, overwhelmed and fucked out, Eliot tucked the covers around Nate. He rolled out of bed, shucked his leather pants, and headed for the shower.
Checking that Nate was still dead to the world, he grabbed a phone from his desk and hit #1.
“Where are you?”
“How soon can you head this way?”
“Meet you at Jacob’s club in Vegas in two days.”
Tossing the phone back in the desk, Eliot moved quietly back to the bedroom. Curling around Nate’s sleep warmed body, he started making a list of things to do before meeting Dean Winchester in Vegas. Top of the list—getting his leather pants cleaned.
He did love Dean in leather and eyeliner.
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no subject
Date: 2009-06-02 09:13 am (UTC)Oh, and Eliot being the Alpha? Hell yes. *nods*
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Date: 2009-06-02 12:12 pm (UTC)Dean, and Dean just slipped into the story like he belonged there. I had one of those *headdesk* moments just knowing you were going be getting your bribes out.
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Date: 2009-06-03 06:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-03 11:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-27 01:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-28 01:25 am (UTC)