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Chapter Text

Eliot saw Hardison slump down into one of the hard terminal seats to his left and start punching away on his phone and didn’t even side eye him. There should have been at least a little spike of adrenaline in seeing him there when he definitely shouldn’t have been, but instead there was just a bone deep weariness that came with the knowledge that for Hardison to be there something had to be very wrong.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the woman at the gate counter did her best to sound apologetic, but it was obvious she was just frazzled; two massive storm cells had re-routed seven flights to the little Podunk airport, and there were more people crowded into the terminals than the place probably saw in two or three months, “there’s just no way to tell when we’ll be able to start rebooking outgoing flights.”

“No worries, darling,” Eliot fell back into an easy drawl, too tired for much else, “can’t control the weather.”

It hurt slinging his bag over his shoulder and reaching down to grab his second bag was almost too much effort to be worth it, but he did anyway, with an easy smile at the gate worker and no sign of discomfort.

When he got to Hardison, he let his bags fall heavily to the ground, then dropped himself into the chair beside him, still not bothering to look at him.

“Who else is here?” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head bowed.

“Whole team,” Hardison continued tapping away on his phone.

“Fucking hell,” Eliot rubbed a hand over his face.

“You alright, man?” Hardison finally glanced over at him.

“What have you checked so far?” Eliot ignored the concern.

It went without saying that all five of them being re-routed to the same airport in the middle of nowhere couldn’t be a coincidence, especially given the fact that the last job had been rough enough for them to take the precaution of booking five different flights on their way out, with the plan to regroup back at HQ gradually over the next three or four days.

“Running checks on air control, pilots, and flight staff,” Hardison offered, “haven’t found anything yet.”

“Can you get into the air control logs?” Eliot forced down a shiver; the hoodie he was wearing was no match for how cold it was outside and how poorly the terminal was heated.

The way every movement sent sharp pain through his shoulder though made it very clear to him that it wasn’t worth it to dig his coat out of his bag. The over-the-counter pain killers he had taken right before his flight had long worn off, and what he really needed was a place to hole up so he could take a round of the prescription strength stuff and get some rest.

That ship, it seemed, had sailed, though. And then been sunk under a foot of snow.

“Here,” Hardison handed his phone over to him, all the officially logged information on the seven rerouted flights on display.

Eliot flipped through the information, checking and cross checking all of it. He forced himself to go more slowly than he usually would, aware of just how tired he was and how easy it would be to miss something or make a mistake, and mistakes just weren’t an option where the team’s safety was at stake.   

By the time he had listened to the exchanges between the tower and the pilots for all seven flights on Hardison’s earbuds, Nate had appeared, dropping down in the chair on Eliot’s other side, a paper cup of questionable coffee in one hand.

“Where are Parker and Sophie?” Eliot asked, his unease at their absence growing now that Nate had shown up and they still hadn’t; he knew they could take care of themselves, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

“Trying to find a coffee stand that will make a decent cappuccino and let Parker put half a bottle of syrup in her hot chocolate,” Nate relaxed back in his chair, not looking particularly distressed by their current situation, “you want anything?”

“No,” even the idea of coffee made his stomach roll; he knew he needed to eat something to settle it, but eating sounded like a terrible idea at the moment.

“Find anything yet?” Nate looked at Hardison over Eliot’s hunched back.

“Nothing,” Hardison shook his head, “plus I still can’t find us anywhere to stay. Everything is full.”

“Eliot?” Nate asked, glancing down at his phone when Sophie texted him a warning that Parker had managed to put six extra pumps of mocha in her hot chocolate without the barista noticing.

Nate wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or terrified. He settled on asking Sophie to grab a bottle of Gatorade for Eliot, then slipped his phone back into his pocket.  

“Nothing,” Eliot handed Hardison’s phone back to him, then slumped forward again, “three of the re-routes were requested by the pilots, four of them were made by air control. They tried to re-route Sophie’s flight to a larger airport, but the storm shifted, and they had to send it here. The pilot on your flight was retired air force. He kept using air force codes and the tower was giving him shit about it. Hardison’s pilot kept flipping his call sign and his co-pilot kept cutting in to correct it. Re-routes all make sense for the way the two storm fronts are shaping up.”

“What does that mean?” Hardison glanced at Nate over Eliot’s back, a slight tip of his head in the hitter’s direction.

“It means that there’s nothing there,” Nate dropped his free hand to the back of Eliot’s neck and began kneading, “if they were trying to pull something, they would have made sure everything was perfect in the logs in case someone went back to review them. Which means everything is pointing to this just being a really weird coincidence.”

“There is no way this is a coincidence,” Eliot grumbled, grateful to have some of the tension finally ease out of his shoulders under Nate’s hand.

“The world is a strange place,” Sophie’s very expensive and highly inappropriate for snow storms shoes appeared in Eliot’s line of sight, “you look awful, sweetheart.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before going to sit on Hardison’s other side, leaning over his shoulder and sipping her coffee as she watched him continued to try to find them a place to stay.

“Do you have any real shoes with you?” Eliot gripped at her.

“I’ll have you know, I could buy two sets of those fancy kitchen knives you love so much with what these shoes cost,” Sophie said in mock offense, “but I do have weather appropriate shoes if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll dig them out once we decide on our plan.”

Parker planted herself on the floor at Eliot’s feet and stared up at him, the line of chocolate on her top lip a clear indication that she had already managed to down her hot chocolate. Eliot just raised his eyebrows at her. He couldn’t deny, he felt better having all four of them close, knowing that at least they were in reach if something happened.

“Our plan is to find someplace to stay to wait out this storm,” Nate continued rubbing Eliot’s neck, “if the weather report is right, we could be stuck here for the next three or four days, and I don’t think any of us want to spend that long sleeping on airport benches.”

“Whatever we end up doing, we should stick together,” Eliot insisted.

Eliot knew he was paranoid, and he knew sometimes that paranoia was justified and sometimes it wasn’t. The problem was, it didn’t matter if there was actually someone out to get them, or he was just tired and his brain was defaulting to ‘danger,’ it all felt the same. It felt like his team was in trouble, and he needed to do something, needed to make sure they were safe.

“We are definitely sticking together,” Hardison grumbled, “I’ll be lucky if I can find even one room for us.”

“You hurt your shoulder again,” Parker frowned up at Eliot.

Nate’s hand went abruptly still on the back of his neck, and Eliot glared down at Parker. He had been careful about not showing the injury, but this was Parker, and her observation skills were frighteningly good. Her sense of tact, not so much.

“I just dislocated it,” Eliot did his best to sound dismissive, “it’s fine.”

“When did that happen?” Nate demanded.

“Does it matter?” Eliot was not interested in having this argument again.

“I need to know when you’re hurt on a job,” Nate squeezed his neck briefly, then went back to kneading at it.

“It’s fine. Popped it back in, no problem. It wasn’t worth throwing Sophie’s exit off for,” Eliot should really have straightened up and pulled away, but he couldn’t muster the energy to, “it happens… sometimes.”

He caught himself before he could say “all the time,” partly because that was definitely the wrong thing to say right now and partly because it wasn’t really true. There was permanent damage in his left shoulder that made it slightly more prone to dislocating, but it didn’t happen all the time.

“Tell me next time it happens,” Nate pulled his hand away, and it was everything Eliot could do not to follow it.

“You want me to tell you next time I skin my knee too?” the hitter asked peevishly.

“Yes!” the rest of his team chimed in.

“You’re all ridiculous,” Eliot grumbled at them, but he couldn’t help the quiet warmth that pooled in his chest.

“You should wear a sling after you dislocate it,” Parker leaned her head on his knee, still looking up at him, “it makes it feel better.”

“I don’t have a sling,” Eliot pointed out, “it’s fine.”

“You have pain meds,” Parker reached back to drag one of his bags closer.

“Need to eat something before I take any more,” Eliot used his foot to push the bag away from her; he would definitely end up retching if he tried to take even the over the counter stuff right now, and he’d rather not, “leave that alone. We need to figure out our next move.”

“You’re going to drink this,” Nate opened the Gatorade bottle Sophie had slipped him before handing it to Eliot, “and we’re going to have to think outside the box if we want to find a place to sleep tonight.”

Eliot glared at the radioactive yellow color, but took it anyway. Nate wasn’t wrong; he needed the fluids. He should have had Sophie grab him some tea though. Even crappy airport tea would have been better than Gatorade. He forced himself to finally sit up so he could drink, and Nate’s hand fell back to the nap of his neck and started kneading again. Eliot leaned back into it under the guise of settling into his chair more comfortably.

“We could buy a house,” Sophie suggested, only half joking.

“We could steal a house,” Parker grinned, head back to resting on Eliot’s knee, “that would be faster. Also more fun.”

“I could kick someone out of a room,” Hardison squinted at his phone, “but that seems like kind of a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh! Find someone who’s a jerk and kick them out,” Parker shifted so she could look at Hardison over Eliot’s knee, “then it would be okay, right Nate?”

“It would be… less not okay,” Nate offered, clearly amused, “but let’s call that plan D.”

“Can stealing a house be plan A?” Parker asked eagerly.

“No,” Nate snorted, “but it’s definitely ranking above sleeping in the airport for three days.”

“Sleeping in the airport better be plan Z.” Sophie huffed.

“No,” Hardison grinned, “plan Z has zombies.”

Eliot sipped at his Gatorade slowly, waiting to gauge how it would settle on an empty stomach, and tried to prioritize what they needed to do. Security and the team’s safety was always his first priority, but he needed to get his brain to let that go for a little bit so he could figure out what they would need to manage being snowed in in a tiny town for a week, because Nate’s estimate of three days was generous if the weather reports were even half right.

His brain was not cooperating. The airport was overcrowded with angry people who were looking at being stuck there for days with no other options, and every aggressive gesture and raised voice had his eyes jumping to the person, assessing the level of threat, then skittering away to the next one. There could be a threat there somewhere; the five of them ending up together some place they hadn’t intended to be felt like a trap.

He needed to get them out of here. That seemed like a good first step.

“Do we have a car?” he interrupted Hardison’s detailing of plan Z, which he had heard way too many times.

“Yeah, I reserved us a van as soon as I got in,” Hardison confirmed, “ain’t fancy, but they’re supposed to put the chains on for us.”

“Maybe we should just get out of here then,” Eliot gave the half full Gatorade bottle a disgusted look, “we should aim for getting enough supplies for all of us for at least a week, just in case, and it’s early enough that the grocery stores might still be open if the blizzard hasn’t shut them down.”

Somewhere behind them a disgruntled businessman got unnecessarily loud with airport personal and one of the meandering security guards started to make his way towards the disturbance. Nate felt Eliot tense under his hand and shift his weight to a position it would be easier for him to get up in a hurry from. Parker was starting to look a little twitchy too, although being pressed up against Eliot’s knee and at least partially sheltered from the chaos of the terminal was probably helping.

“I’m not keen on the idea of driving out into a blizzard with no final destination in mind,” Sophie frowned.

“Living out of a van with five other people and freezing my ass off for a week,” Hardison flipped through web pages faster than Sophie could follow, “that better be somewhere after plan Z.”

Eliot knew they weren’t wrong, but Parker was hugging the leg she was resting against like a teddy bear, and he would have to step on her if he had to get up quickly to deal with trouble. It felt like the better option was to go sort out their next move behind locked doors, even if they were just car doors.

Nate gave the back of Eliot’s neck a reassuring squeeze, and Eliot pulled his ankle back, partially trapping Parker between his leg and the chair. He gave her a tired smile when she looked up at him and pretended not to notice when she started untying his boot lace. She would retie it using whatever her favorite knot of the week was.

“We’ll call sleeping in the van plan E,” Nate offered.

“That seems awfully high on the list,” Sophie complained.

“Well, then we better come up with a plan A,” Nate scoffed, “and Eliot’s right, we’re going to have to make a supply run and try to stock up. It would be better not to have to make too many trips out if the roads are bad,” he pulled his notepad and pen out of his inner pocket and passed it to Eliot, “the grown-ups don’t want to live on orange soda and coco puffs for a week, so this one’s all you.”

“Put coco puffs on the list,” Parker stage whispered to Eliot.

He snorted softly, but put it down first. He was acutely aware that Nate was trying to give him some kind of distraction to focus on, and he wanted to be more irritated by it than he was, but focusing on something besides the crowd and being able to organize his thoughts on paper did actually help.

It took a surprising amount of food to feed five people for a week, plus the logistics of possibly losing power, and all the other things they would need, things to cook food in, plates and utensils of some kind if the place they were staying didn’t have any, restocking the med kit, taking into account that he really didn’t feel like cooking and the rest of team’s cooking skills ranged from “probably won’t kill anyone” to “definitely will make something explode.”

“Isn’t this hiking country?” Nate asked suddenly.

“Unfortunately,” Hardison grumbled, “I’m going to go sleep on the floor in the corner over there before I’m going to camp in this though.”

“Summer vacation rentals,” Eliot filled in before Nate could, “they’ll be closed up for winter, so they shouldn’t be booked. Just make sure they have their utilities turned on.”

Hardison perked up at the idea and started searching on his phone, Sophie leaning eagerly over his shoulder again.

“Finish this,” Nate picked up the bottle of Gatorade from where Eliot had set it on the arm rest and held it out to him, “or I’m hunting down a bottle of Pedialyte for you.”

“You know,” Eliot set the pad on his knee and took the bottle from him reluctantly, “Pedialyte actually tastes better.”

“Isn’t that like baby food?” Parker peered curiously at the list, noting with satisfaction that Eliot had put not only coco puffs but also fruity pebbles and frosted flakes on it for her.

“Yeah,” Nate confirmed, “so don’t be a baby and drink your Gatorade.”

“Got one,” Hardison announced, “a lovely summer chalet with two bedrooms and a sleeping loft, full kitchen, and real wood fireplace. Also, on the grid and utilities running. It’s closed for the winter, so no rental contacts listed.”

“Can we steal it?” Parker asked eagerly.

“Let’s try just renting it first,” Nate shook his head, “see if you can get a contact number for the owners.”

“If?” Hardison snorted, “like I couldn’t do this in my sleep.”

“Stop bragging and give me the phone,” Sophie tried to snatch the phone from him as soon as the number was up, “what are we doing?”

“Family vaca,” Nate ignored Eliot’s grumble from beside him.

They called the particular grouping of IDs “family vaca” because Eliot got angry when they called it “Eliot needs to go to the ER and Nate needs durable power of attorney for him,” although to be fair, there were other ways they used this particular arrangement.

“I’m so glad I reached you,” Sophie started talking before the person on the other end of the line could even ask who was there, giving Eliot a wink as she pulled out her friendliest southern drawl.

Eliot rolled his eyes and began adjusting the list now that he knew they would have an actual kitchen. Just how well outfitted a rental’s kitchen would be could vary widely, but at least they shouldn’t need dishes and utensils, and if they were lucky, it would have a gas stove and they’d still be able to cook if the power went out.

“Add marshmallows,” Parker demanded and let go of his leg to reach for his bag.

“Stay out of my stuff,” Eliot used his foot to push the bag away from her again.

“You need your jacket,” Parker swatted at his shin, “I know you had the one with the fuzz on the inside with you; you wore it when we were casing the warehouse.”

“Other bag,” Eliot gave in, then shoved Parker gently with his foot, “don’t rearrange anything in there. It’s all exactly where I want it.”

“You always pack your bags the same,” Parker complained as she unzipped the second bag, “it makes finding things so boring.”

“It’s…,” Eliot broke off, distracted by two security guards rushing past them, heading in the direction of the meager food court.

“Almost out of here,” Nate patted his knee, “once we’ve got the cabin worked out, we’ll hit up a grocery store, then get settled for the night.”

“I don’t like any of this, Nate,” Eliot frowned at him.

“I know,” Nate agreed easily, “it’s a lot of coincidence, but it’s also a lot of moving pieced that can’t be controlled or predicted, and we do need to get moving if we don’t actually want to spend the next week stuck in the airport.”

“Coat,” Parker held up Eliot’s jacket, one of his beanies firmly on her head.

He suspected he would not be getting that beanie back, but that was alright; he had another one somewhere and Parker would need a hat once they got out of the airport. He reached for his jacket, but Parker snatched it back.

“Let me help,” she insisted, “it’s not good to raise your arm over your shoulder right after you dislocate it.”

“You know, this is not the first time I’ve done this,” Eliot let her help despite his protest, “I know how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but you don’t half the time,” Hardison grumbled.

“If I ain’t dead then I delt with it,” Eliot glared.

“Sophie says it’s not funny to joke about that when you’re hurt,” Parker zipped up the jacket for him despite him trying to brush her hands away.

Sophie glanced over at them at her name, but continued her cheerful conversation with the rental owner, giving them little more than a raised eyebrow.

“Well, then, when is it funny to joke about it?” Nate asked, clearly bemused.

Sophie reached across both Hardison and Eliot to swat him, never once breaking the steady chatter of her conversation.

“Hat too,” Parker pulled a beanie over Eliot’s head, then tucked his hair back so it wasn’t in his face, “it’s snowing really hard. Did you put ice packs on your list?”

Eliot let her snatch the pad from him, although the fancy pen she started adding to it with looked like it was Sophie’s. He had not put ice packs on the list, but he had planned to grab a couple if they had any, along with more Tylenol and ibuprofen. He had some in his med kit, but if all five of them were going to be dipping into the kit, it would be better to stock up.

“You are just the sweetest thing,” Sophie cooed at the phone, “don’t you bother with coming out in this dreadful weather. We can manage just fine.”

Sophie hung up and grinned at the team, “the house is ours for as long as we need it. There’s a lock box on the porch with the key.”

“I can just pick the lock,” Parker protested as she pushed herself to her feet.

“It’s okay to use a key sometimes Parker,” Nate stood and started gathering up their bags, “maybe change it up a little every now and then.”

“I don’t like keys in lock boxes,” Eliot shoved himself up, “too easy to get to and copy.”

He was dizzy for a second, just long enough for Hardison to put a hand on the small of his back. Eliot stepped away from him and no one said anything. He just needed to eat something, preferably something that wouldn’t make him sick, that was all.

Hardison snatched up his bags before he could grab them, and if he hadn’t been feeling so lousy, he would have kicked him in the shin for it.

Chapter Text

"I know what you're trying to do."

Eliot's glare was less impressive than usual, but Nate still would have bet his money on him. Not that he wouldn't always bet on Eliot, and with things much more valuable to him than money.

"Trying to get you to eat saltines, so you don't throw up when you take the prescription strength anti-inflammatories I know you have in your bag?" Nate waved the open sleeve of crackers in front of the hitter.

"Stop fussing," Eliot snapped and snatched the sleeve out of Nate's hand.

Now that Parker had pointed it out, Nate could clearly see Eliot was favoring his left arm. Or, possibly because Parker had pointed it out, Eliot was putting less effort into hiding it.

"They shouldn't be in there alone," Eliot pulled a few crackers out of the sleeve and shoved it back at Nate.

"They're not alone," Nate swapped the sleeve for a water bottle from the grocery bag at his feet, "they have each other. We might be living off of orange soda and Trix for the next two weeks, but I think they'll get each other out of the store in one piece."

Eliot gave him a dubious look but refrained from talking with his mouth full.

"Anyway, I'm listening," Nate tapped the comm he had slipped into his ear.

"Where's my…?" Eliot frowned and tried to reach behind the seat for his bag, wincing hard at the twisting motion.

"Stop it," Nate thumped his side lightly with the back of his hand, "I've got them. Parker hasn't managed to convince Sophie that Froot Loops are both a vegetable and a fruit, but Sophie is giving her tips on being persuasive, and Hardison doesn't know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, but one of them has made it into the basket."

"How have they made it this far without dying of malnutrition?" Eliot let his head flop back against the headrest.

"Cereal is fortified," Nate said dryly and poked Eliot with the water bottle, "which bag are your meds in?"

"It can wait until we get to the cabin," Eliot grabbed the offending bottle away without opening his eyes.

Nate didn't have to wrangle an injured Eliot often. Most of the time, he was more than capable of managing his own injuries. When he wasn't, Nate usually let Parker take the lead in poking and prodding while he helped Hardison track down whatever medical help their hitter needed.

Parker needed to burn off some energy, though, and Nate would rather supervise a cranky Eliot than his team on a shopping spree. He had trailed Eliot through the first aid aisle, listened to him mutter over spices and knives on the baking aisle, and then dragged him back to the van with saltines and water bottles in hand.

"Just take the anti-inflammatory," Nate argued, "it won't make you drowsy, and the longer you wait, the less well they'll work."

"Stop. Fussing." Eliot growled, somehow managing to drink his water angrily.

Nate was always impressed by how Eliot could make the most mundane tasks look threatening. Luckily for him and the rest of the team, Nate was not easily intimidated.

"Just for the sake of argument..." Nate started.

"No," Eliot said flatly.

"We're stuck in the car until Hardison picks a shampoo. Humor me," Nate ignored Hardison's protests over the comm about his sensitive scalp.

"They need to hurry," Eliot groused, 'the snow is getting worse."

"Right," Nate agreed and held the sleeve of saltines out to Eliot again. He was disproportionately pleased when the hitter grabbed a few more without protest, "so let's just say there really is some shadowy figure waiting behind the curtain to get us…"

Eliot raised an eyebrow at that, probably cross-checking his mental list of people who matched that description, but Nate ignored him.

"And they orchestrated stranding the five us in this specific tiny town, in the middle of nowhere, by waiting until we were both split up on five different planes, and there was a massive storm front to force our flights here…"

"Look, I know…" Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Which is possible," Nate continued to ignore him, "highly unlikely, but possible. After all, shady figures are usually good at seizing opportunity when they see it. So let's say all of that is true. What's their next move? Where do they expect us to be?"

Eliot frowned before reluctantly admitting, "They expect us to be stranded, at the airport or one of the hotels."

"Right," Nate nodded, "and even if they somehow anticipated us renting a summer house, it would be almost impossible to control which summer house we rented. Hardison must have skimmed through a half dozen search pages worth before we went after this one."

Eliot's frown deepened as he worked the problem and thought how he would have managed something like this from the other side. Nate let him be for a minute because he was still eating crackers while he thought, seemingly without noticing.

"There are ways they could stack the deck in their favor," he finally said slowly. "Knowing what we would want in a place to lay low, making it available even though it looked unavailable, monitoring Hardison for the search criteria he was using, then populating it with multiple properties that they have control of."

"Possible," Nate conceded, "ridiculously elaborate and unnecessarily complicated, but possible."

"So, one of your plans, basically," Eliot snorted.

"I don't have the patience to wait on mother nature," Nate let the jab slide, "my point is, the best thing we can do in this situation is not be where we're most likely to be. The rest, we'll just have to deal with as it comes."

"I know that. It's just…" Eliot just looked worn out now, tired of having to run through every scenario and possibility for every given moment.

Nate had figured out fairly early on that Eliot's paranoia was rooted in both a lot of experience and a lot of trauma. It meant they would be idiots to ignore him when he said something was wrong (and Nate had, unfortunately, been that idiot on more than one occasion, although he tried not to be these days), but they also needed to be a second check on those things for him sometimes, because he could always work his way around to those perceived threats being possible, even if they weren't probable.

It had gotten a lot better over the years, and the team had gotten better at finding ways to help him deal with it when it did come up. There was never a perfect solution, but they were more than happy to settle for an imperfect one if it made things at least a little better.

"And we'll deal with everything a lot better if you just take your diclofenac," Nate cut him off again, "so what bag is it in?"

"Duffel," Eliot conceded defeat finally, "they really do need to hurry."

"I know," Nate turned around and started sifting through the bags they had tossed into the third row of seats, "they're almost done."

Parker had been sitting in the back row, and she had rearranged the luggage that hadn't fit in the trunk to make a nest of sorts for herself around the middle seat. Nate had to practically crawl over the back of the middle row to reach Eliot's duffel bag, and he only felt a little bad for messing up her carefully crafted arrangement.

Eliot carried prescription meds with him and had for as long as Nate had known him. He had worried at first about the bottle of oxi that was always packed in the hitter's personal medkit. In hindsight, he could see the hypocrisy of constantly watching Eliot for signs of opioid addiction while simultaneously getting blackout drunk on a regular basis.

It had only taken a couple months for that concern to shift from Eliot taking too many painkillers to getting Eliot to take them at all. Two years in, and Nate had been worrying about why Eliot felt like jobs would leave him in enough pain on a regular enough basis that he would need to always have that level of painkiller with him. These days, Eliot and meds were mostly a bargaining act, a give and take informed by context and where Eliot's head was at at the given moment.

Oxi made him disoriented and dizzy; he wouldn't take it if he didn't feel safe. Diclofenac made him nauseous if he didn't take it with food (sometimes even when he did). Of the two problems, that was the easier one to solve.

Nate finally managed to find Eliot's duffel bag and pulled the medkit out, tossing the bag back in the pile of luggage for Parker to rearrange and poke through to her heart's content once they got back to the van.

 "You want one or two?" Nate opened the kit and sorted through the neatly labeled bottles.

"Just one," Eliot was slumped back against the headrest again, eyes closed.

"You're out of Zofran," Nate shook the empty bottle.

"I gave the last of it to Sophie when we hit that patch of turbulence on the way in for the job," Eliot said dismissively, "it's fine. I'll refill it later."

Nate handed the pill and another water bottle over to Eliot, then texted Parker and asked her to get a bottle of Zofran from the pharmacy. A little thievery would do her good after 8 hours on a plane.

Eliot took the pill, and the van went comfortably quiet aside from the rest of the team's chatter in Nate's ear. It was surprisingly relaxing to listen in on them doing something as mundane as arguing over pasta sauce and gummy frog brands. They were on the comms a lot, but during jobs, there was a certain amount of tension, the constant need to be assessing and reassessing everything that happened.

Nate didn't care what kind of pasta sauce they got, and he didn't like gummy frogs, but it was nice just to sit back and listen to them be together.

There was suddenly weight against his shoulder, and Nate held still as Eliot gradually slumped more heavily against him, eyes closed and breath even. Nate waited until he was sure he was settled before shifting to get an arm around him and stop him from sliding down too far. Eliot fidgeted in his sleep for a moment, then relaxed with a soft sigh.

It wasn't that unusual for Eliot to sleep around them, but after how keyed up he had been at the airport, having him resting solid and relaxed against his side felt like winning.

Chapter Text

Hardison knew why the light took on a red tint at night when it snowed, knew how light refraction worked, even knew the right equations to calculate the wavelengths. He still thought it was the stuff of horror movies.

“Maybe we should have slept in the airport,” he grumbled, squinting through the snowfall at the dark cabin.

Eliot stirred on his shoulder, shifting around enough that it must have jarred something, because Hardison felt him suppress a flinch before lifting his head muzzily and rubbing a hand over his face.

Hardison had lost the argument with Nate over who was driving, leaving him to switch places with the mastermind as the designated Eliot pillow. As much as he had argued, once they got going he was glad not to be the one at the wheel. The roads had been terrible, and it had taken them three times as long as it should have to get to the cabin. They had almost gotten stuck on the long drive leading up to it.

Somehow, Eliot had managed to sleep through the majority of the trip. Hardison would have loved to have said that gave him the warm fuzzies, because Eliot was not a man who gave his trust easily, but mostly it just made him worry that the hitter’s injuries were significantly worse than he had let on.

“We here?” Eliot asked groggily.

“Yeah,” Nate turned in the driver’s seat to look back at them, “Sophie and I will help Parker do a security check. You stay in the car with Hardison.”

Eliot tensed up against Hardison’s shoulder, like he was going to protest, then huffed out an irritated breath and dropped his head back down.

Hardison gave Nate a pointed look, gesturing towards Eliot with the arm that wasn’t slung around the hitters shoulders.

“He’s fine,” Nate reassured him, “the meds just took enough of the edge off for him to sleep.”

Hardison opened his mouth to argue, but Parker chose that moment to climb over all the bags and groceries piled up in the back and haul open the side door of the van. The open door let in a burst of cold wind and snow, and Hardison curled away from it, ducking his face against Eliot’s beanie.

“I’m going to pick the lock,” Parker announced cheerfully and hopped out of the van, closing the door behind her.

“Parker, I have the key code,” Sophie pulled her hat hastily down over her ears and followed her out into the snow.

“I think supervision might be in order,” Nate pulled his own hat on, “sit tight. We’ll be back to unload after we check everything.”

Nate let in another burst of cold when he opened the door, and it didn’t escape Hardison’s notice that he locked the car behind him. Eliot’s paranoia was rubbing off on everyone, it seemed.

Hardison wanted to grumble and complain, or at the very least, narrate what was obviously the start of the worst kind of horror movie, namely the kind that they had to participate in, but Eliot’s breathing had evened back out into sleep, and he didn’t want to risk waking him.

The only light besides the eerie red snow reflection was the headlights of the van pointed at the front porch. The porch was high enough that the beams hit Parker and Sophie at the knees. It looked like there was some kind of problem with both the lock and the lock box, and they seemed to be struggling with getting either of them open.

Nate was standing to the side of them on the porch, just outside the narrow beam of light. He was hunched against the cold, shooting the occasional furtive glance at the dark trees ringing the cabin. This was the part of the movie where the monster sprang out of the forest and ate the idiots stupid enough to venture out into the open.

Although, they were still pretty early into the film. They had only just gotten to the cabin, and they had yet to run into any cooky locals who regaled them with stories of the monster or ancient tomes that conveniently fell into their laps warning them of the beast. This early in the film, they would get the door open just in the nick of time, slamming it in the monster’s face as they scrambled to safety.

Leaving he and Eliot in the car to be eaten.

Monsters lurking in the dark seemed a lot more possible with their resident monster slayer not at his best. Hardison didn’t care what Nate said, it wasn’t like Eliot to just fall asleep when they were somewhere weird and unsecured. Excessive sleepiness was a sign of head injury.

Or blood loss, or severe inflammation, or internal bleeding, or some other weird medical condition. Or, the rational part of his brain pointed out, barely sleeping at all the last week because the job had not got smoothly. Short of someone dying, everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. And yet, the bad guy had been beaten and the client was sufficiently safe and cared for. So they would count it as a win. Unless Eliot had a brain bleed or something. Then that definitely canceled out the win.

Parker got the door open finally, and Hardison watched through the front windshield, holding his breath as Parker stepped into the dark cabin, followed by Nate, then Sophie. It felt like it took hours, but suddenly the porch lights flipped on, and a warm glow lit up the front windows, reflecting golden sparks off the falling snow.

Hardison let out his breath, glad to find they had made the transition from b-level horror movie to hallmark Christmas special. Too bad Christmas had been like a month ago. Still, if they didn’t run into a Christmas tree farmer with an emo past who turned out to secretly be Santa’s long lost son, Hardison was going to be disappointed.

Eliot stirred again, turning his face into Hardison’s shoulder to escape the cold that was leaching into the van now that the engine was off. Hardison drew him in closer and rested his cheek on top of Eliot’s head.

“No brain bleeds,” he murmured into Eliot’s beanie, “we have rules about things like that.”

“Who’s bleeding?” Eliot mumbled into Hardison’s jacket.

“No one,” Hardison reassured him, “as long as you’re not.”

Eliot seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking his head and settling again, “not right now.”

“You know, El,” Hardison grumbled, “answers like that are why we worry about you all the time.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of Eliot’s head and went back to watching the porch through the front windshield. The longer the others took inside, the more things felt like they were sliding back into b-movie territory.

Hardison knew what they were doing. They ran perimeter and security checks on every place they stayed. Usually Eliot did them, but if he was already busy doing something else for the job, Parker would take care of it. She had the dubious distinction of being the second most paranoid member of the team. She also had a vast and impressive understanding of how building security worked, or how it didn’t work, since figuring out how to get in and out of places was both her job and her favorite pastime.

She had already been applying that to her own safety when the team had come together, and it had only taken a few conversations with Eliot for her to see how to apply it to assessing the security of wherever the team was staying. If she said the cabin was good, Eliot would be satisfied with it.

Hardison would sweep for bugs and any other tech weirdness once they got their gear inside. Hopefully, if everything came back clear from both he and Parker, Eliot would feel safe enough to get some rest and actually take care of his “not bleeding right now” self.

Right around the time Hardison started thinking they were going to freeze to death instead of get eaten by a monster, the rest of the team finally came out of the cabin. Parker hopped down the steps, landing two footed in snow that came up to her mid-calf, then turned to head to the corner of the building, taking exaggeratedly large steps through the snow drifts. Nate followed her, walking like a normal person and hunched against the snow and wind.

Sophie left them to it, coming back to the van. She pulled open the side door, letting in a gust of snow and wind. Eliot sat up with a start, blinking blurrily at Sophie and the open van door.

“Everything looks good inside,” Sophie smiled, “Nate and Parker are just going to do a quick walk around the outside, but we can start unloading.”

“Took you long enough,” Hardison grumbled, sliding out of the van.

He pulled his scarf up over his mouth and nose and stepped aside to let Eliot out.

“The lock and lockbox were both frozen,” Sophie shrugged, “it took some fiddling from Parker to get it open, then she had to open every door in the place and climb the banister railing, for some reason”

“She’s Parker,” Eliot shrugged and started reaching for the nearest bag, “she hasn’t really seen something until she’s climbed it.”

“People who don’t tell us they’re hurt don’t get to carry in bags,” Sophie’s tone indicated that this was a punishment, somehow, “go inside and get warmed up. We've got this.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Eliot grumbled at her, but he left the bags and headed towards the cabin anyway.

Hardison watched Eliot go up the porch steps, then turned to Sophie, who was pulling bags out of the back row.

“He didn’t even argue,” Hardison hissed.

“Let him get some food and sleep,” Sophie shoved an armful of grocery bags at him, “then worry.”

“That is not how worry works,” Hardison complained as he trudged through the snow to the cabin.

Sophie grabbed Eliot’s bags from the back seat first, almost over balancing with the weight of the duffel before she managed to get it over her shoulder. What did that man pack and why couldn’t he put it in two or three bags that didn’t weigh as much as an elephant instead of cramming it all in one?

She passed Hardison as he was trudging back to the van. He started to reach for the bags she was carrying, but she waved him on. It was in Hardison’s nature to worry constantly, and there was something endearing about that, but worrying wasn’t going to get Eliot settled and resting. Maybe even sleeping if the ride here was any indication.

She dumped Eliot’s bags on the bed in the back bedroom, the one farthest from both doors. The blankets on the bed were a bit light for how cold it was, but they had cranked up the heat as soon as they had gotten inside, and everything was starting to warm up. She would get Parker to help her hunt down the extra blankets the owner had told her were here later.

First though, Sophie had a hitter to cajole into bed.

She dug through Eliot’s bag until she found his stash of ice packs, then headed to the kitchen. She was not at all surprised to find Eliot there, poking half-heartedly through cupboards and peering into the grocery bags piled precariously on the counter. He was holding his left arm stiff and close to his body and moving slow, but at least he was carrying around a water bottle, and looked to have drunk about half of it already.

“At least the stove is gas,” Eliot grumbled, even as he gave the knife block a disgusted look, “if we lose power we’ll still be able to have hot meals.”

“I hadn’t even thought of losing power,” Sophie admitted, “we might have to give the fireplace a once over to make sure it’s safe to use.”

Eliot glanced over the breakfast bar into the living room where a large stone fireplace had pride of place across from a comfortable, if dusty, looking couch, “I’ll…”

“You’ll go take a shower,” Sophie nudged him away from the counter so she could start putting groceries away.

“Later,” Eliot shook his head stubbornly, “everyone’s got to be hungry, and I should get something started.”

He started to pull open grocery bags, and Sophie shooed him away again, “we’ll take care of dinner.”

Eliot gave her a dubious look.

“Nate will take care of dinner,” Sophie corrected, “he’ll enjoy it. It will remind him of his prison days.”

“What am I doing?” Nate asked, dumping a pile of luggage in the middle of the living room.

“Making dinner,” Sophie supplied.

“Yeah, sure,” Nate paused to give the kitchen a once over before trudging back out the front door for more bags.

“So go take a shower,” Sophie pushed him in the direction of the bedrooms and bathroom with a hand on the small of his back, “you’ll feel better, and I won’t feel guilty about using all the hot water when I take mine.”

“You never feel guilty about that,” Eliot groused, but he headed in the direction of the bedrooms.

“Your bags are in the second bedroom,” Sophie called after him.

She watched long enough to see him duck into the room, then turned back to the kitchen, trying to decide if actually getting Eliot to take a shower instead of haul luggage entitled her to not spend the next quarter hour trudging through the snow to unload the van.

Probably not. The sooner they could get everything inside and everyone out of the awful weather, the better.

Sophie pulled her scarf up around her nose and ears and headed back into the snow.

“I’m hungry,” Parker announced, “Sophie said you’d make us dinner.”

She was sitting cross-legged on the breakfast bar because Eliot was still in the shower and couldn’t tell her not to.

“Once we get the groceries put away, I’ll put something together,” Nate tossed her a box of cereal without bothering to look at what it was.

Parker pulled it open and was delighted to find it was the kind with the grainy rainbow marshmallows. She had no idea where the spoons were, so she started eating it by the handful.

“We should do something about the doors,” Parker said with her mouth full, which wasn’t as fun when Eliot wasn’t there to shoot her disgusted looks.

“What about the doors?” Nate asked absently as he started pulling everything out of the fridge that Sophie and Hardison had stuffed into it.

Sophie was giving him that funny look that she had said meant he was being a micromanaging jerk. Parker thought that was a useful thing to be able to do most times, but she didn’t like it when he tried to micromanage her, so Sophie maybe had a point when she complained about it.

It seemed mostly useful right now though and meant they would be able to fit more stuff in the fridge.

“They were too easy to open,” she told Nate.

“I’ll get everything alarmed once I finish setting my stuff up,” Hardison said from where he was unpacking his electronics and starting to set them up on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.

Sophie had told him he couldn’t use the big table near the kitchen because they needed somewhere to sit and eat, and he was still sulking about it. Parker hadn’t told him yet that there was a big desk up in the sleeping loft, because she hadn’t decided yet if she wanted to share the loft.

“I think the blizzard is going to be pretty good security for us,” Nate didn’t look up from his efforts to use the fridge space as efficiently as possible.

“We got here through it,” Parker shrugged.

“Well, we are rather exceptional,” Sophie offered, “and we barely made it here, but what do you have in mind?”

Parker considered the options. The front door and the back door both pushed inward, so the easiest way to secure them would be to put something heavy in front of them to block them from opening, but they would have to do it in a way that didn’t mess up Hardison’s alarm system. It would be good to do something about the downstairs windows too. They were easy to access and would be easy for someone to break into, but they were also easy exits for the team if they needed to leave in a hurry.

She would usually ask Eliot what he thought, but he was hurt and tired and would come up with better ideas after he got some sleep.

“I think after Hardison gets his system set up we should reinforce the doors,” Parker decided, “then maybe try to do something to secure the downstairs windows.”

“Why don’t we just stick a chair under the door knobs for tonight,” Nate finally turned away from the fridge, having managed to fit everything that needed to be refrigerated in it, “we can do a more thorough job of securing the place tomorrow. It looks like we’re going to be here a couple days, at least.”

Parker nodded her agreement and shoved another handful of cereal in her mouth.

“How do we feel about spaghetti for dinner?” Nate asked, “I think I saw green beans and cherry tomatoes around here somewhere that we can have as a side.”

“I got some of that garlic bread you just toss in the oven too,” Hardison had moved on from connecting cables to actually sitting and working on his laptop, an assortment of small sensors and cameras spread out on the table in front of him.

“Great,” Nate said briskly, then looked back to Parker, “what kind of sauce do you want?”

He gestured to the four jars of pasta sauce lined up on the counter with the other pantry goods that hadn’t been put away yet. There was extra cheesy alfredo, basil marinara, vodka, and four cheese marinara. Sophie and Hardison hadn’t been able to decide, so Parker had dumped them all in the cart. None of them were going to be as good as Eliot’s.

“That one,” Parker pointed to the alfredo; it was white like marshmallows even if it tasted nothing like them.

“Done,” Nate said, then guided Sophie out of the kitchen area with a hand on her back, “we can finish putting the rest of this away after we eat. Go somewhere else so I can cook.”

Sophie huffed, but went to sit on the couch next to Hardison. He handed her the remote to the flat screen tv hung over the fireplace, and she flipped on the weather channel, which seemed a little silly to Parker. It was snowing; they knew it was snowing.

Parker watched Nate in the kitchen for a while while she munched on her cereal. Watching Nate cook wasn’t at all like watching Eliot cook. When Eliot cooked he was focused on the food and he noticed everything about it. He was always tasting things and adjusting things as he went. Parker liked to watch him cook because he always seemed like he was happy, or at least that cooking made him feel better when he wasn’t.

It wasn’t like that with Nate. Nate just made food. He didn’t seem to dislike doing it, but it wasn’t anything special to him. His food wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t taste like Eliot’s. It didn’t taste like it mattered a lot to him, and he wanted it to matter a lot to them.  

Parker heard the water shut off in the bathroom and closed up her cereal, then hopped down from the breakfast bar. She left her cereal on the counter; she could always come back and hide all the boxes of cereal where she wanted them later.

Eliot did feel better after taking a shower, and after giving the diclofenac time to kick in, and after dozing most of the way to the cabin, and he was kind of disgruntled about it. Had his flight not been rerouted twice and the safety of the team abruptly called into question, he would have done all those things much sooner and in the safety of one of his boltholes without anyone else to worry about.

As it was, he was still tired and achy, but at least he felt like he was tracking better. He was content to let the team struggle through figuring out dinner without him, but he did want a better look at the layout of the cabin before he tried to get a little more sleep. There were always things that needed to be taken care of when they first got into a space, especially with Eliot still feeling uneasy about how they had ended up there.

Parker was sitting at the foot of the bed his bags had been on, scribbling away in one of her notebooks. Eliot’s bags had been tossed haphazardly in a corner, but a clean hoodie and a pair of mis-matched wool socks were laying on the bed.

Eliot almost went to find the matching socks, but he was tired still and digging through his bag after Parker had rearranged it probably wasn’t the best use of his limited energy right now.

“Do you want to hear about the cabin?”  Parker asked, turning her notebook so he could see her detailed sketch of the cabin’s layout.

“Sure,” Eliot sat heavily on the edge of the bed and pulled his socks on; at least they were the same type of sock even if the colors were different.

The heat had gone a long way towards loosening up his shoulder, but he should probably get some ice on it soon. He would have to dig his ice packs out of his bag at some point so he could get them in the freezer.

“There are two doors, the front one we came through and one half way down the side of the house the fireplace is on. It goes out to the back porch. I don’t think the locks on them are very good, but Nate said we could stick a chair under the handles for tonight and fix them tomorrow. There are seven windows downstairs, double pane, latch locks that are really flimsy, but we don’t have anything to change them out with. Hardison is putting up cameras and sensors tonight though…”

Eliot shrugged into his hoodie and gave into the urge to lay back against the pillows while Parker talked. She was always thorough with building layouts and security weaknesses, and there was only so much they could do tonight anyway. Hardison’s security systems were always good, and he knew how to maximize the coverage of any space, although the snow and ice were probably going to cause problems for any cameras or sensors he wanted to set up outside.

“...from the outside it looks like there’s a crawl space under the cabin, but I couldn’t find any way into it from the inside, and Nate wouldn’t let me go into it from the outside. He said I’d get too wet or dirty or something, which is kind of stupid because I have clothes and a shower in here,” Parker kept going.

“It’s not good to get wet in this kind of weather, even if you think it will only be for a little bit,” Eliot murmured, “we can take a better look at it tomorrow when it’s light out.”

He really was tired, and there was something soothing about listening to Parker go through every detail of the building; it wouldn’t hurt if he closed his eyes for just a minute or two while he listened.

Parker grinned when she saw Eliot’s eyes close, but she finished telling him about the sleeping loft before she stopped talking. His breathing was deep and even, and it looked like he really was asleep.

When he didn’t push her away while she was covering him with a blanket, she knew he really was asleep. She kissed him on the cheek the way Sophie did sometimes and turned out the light on her way out of the room.