sideways

Fandom: Leverage
Characters/Pairings: Mr. Quinn/Eliot Spencer
Rating: Teen
Length: 2,319 words
Written for: Chocolate Box Exchange 2022
Summary: Eliot narrowed his eyes. “I better not be your getaway driver.”
Quinn gets hurt on a job and calls Eliot for a ride.
Originally Posted: February 15, 2022
CW: adult language, minor injuries, brief mention of blood, stitches, not going to the hospital when you need to

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Quinn lifted his shirt. He needed to get a better look at where that asshole had gotten him with the knife. Fuck. It was at too awkward an angle to get a good look at. He groaned. He’d really gone and fucked this one up. Now he was bleeding, his car was in flames, and he wasn't even getting paid. Lesson learned. At least he still had his phone. He knew who he needed to call. It was even who he wanted to call. He hesitated. Things with Spencer had been - well, they’d been a lot of things. Amazing, frustrating, satisfying, and hot as hell. What it hadn't been was relationship-like.

They’d started meeting up after Quinn had done that job for Spencer’s crew. Working with a team wasn’t exactly his thing but working with Eliot - well, that fit him just fine. They clicked. At least Quinn thought they did. He wasn’t so sure about what page Spencer was on.

They’d done a handful of jobs together, just the two of them. They'd gotten to know each other better, flirted a little, made out a hell of a lot, and then there was that one time up against the seedy motel room wall. That was the last time they’d worked together.

What they didn’t do was call each other up out of the blue. They also didn’t go out on dates or talk about where it was all going. There always had to be some kind of excuse. Some pretense. They’d get together for a job and after it was all done, they’d spend some time together. Eventually, they’d go back to their lives and not see each other for a while. This time it’d been a month. No phone calls, texts, or jobs together in a whole month. It was stupid how much Quinn missed Eliot. Maybe it would have been easier if he knew exactly where it was all going.

As uncomfortable as it might be he was going to have to buck up and call Spencer if he wanted to get out of this mess. He made the call.

----------------------------------------

Eliot was on the couch watching some old horror flick with Parker and Hardison and trying not to doze off when Quinn called.

“Hey Spencer, you busy?”

“Why?” Eliot didn’t like what he heard in Quinn’s voice. There was a very distinctive tone that led him to believe that Quinn was wounded.

“Well, what would you say if I told you I needed a ride?”

“Send me your location,” Eliot said and ended the call.

He got up and turned to Parker and Hardison. “Sorry to bail on movie night, but something’s come up.” Eliot grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out the door.

It took him twenty-eight minutes to get to the junkyard Quinn sent him the coordinates to. What was Quinn doing out here in the middle of the night? Something was definitely wrong. Eliot slowed down and drove through the open gate. He parked a little way inside and kept the engine running.

He couldn’t see anyone but there wasn’t a lot of available light. A minute and a half passed before Quinn stepped out from the shadows. His movements were stiff and he was favoring his left side. There was pain in his eyes that Quinn was trying to hide, but Eliot could see right through him. He unlocked the door.

Quinn flashed Eliot a weary smile and got in the car. “Thank you kindly for the ride, Spencer.”

Quinn carefully settled himself in the seat. He looked rough. His suit was dirt-smeared and rumpled and he smelled like blood. Eliot was really hoping it was someone else’s. “What happened?” Eliot asked.

“Just needed a ride, that’s all.” Quinn adjusted his tie. “Which you have kindly provided, thank you again.” There was that smile again.

“Don’t bullshit me, Quinn.”

“How about you get your car on the road, and then I can tell you all about it?” Quinn said. There was less saccharine-sweet bullshit in his voice this time.

Eliot narrowed his eyes. “I better not be your getaway driver.” He put the car in gear and got back on the highway. Quinn seemed to relax a little once they’d put a little distance between them and the junkyard.

“Now, tell me the story,” Eliot said. He didn’t bother trying to keep the growl out of his voice.

-----

Quinn sighed. “It’s not much of a story. I took a job and it went a little sideways. The end.”

Eliot’s hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. “What happened to your car?”

Quinn looked down and brushed a bit of dirt off his sleeve. “Last I checked, it was on fire.”

Spencer shot him a quick look before turning his eyes back on the road. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

“What, before it all went sideways? Didn’t need a ride then, did I?”

“I meant before you took the job. I could have gone with you or at least talked you out of it.”

Quinn tried and failed to get comfortable. “I didn’t expect it to go sideways.”

“You never do.”

“In my defense, things don’t usually go this sideways. I’m good at my job.”

“Apparently you’re not as good as you think.”

That was a little harsh. “I haven't been sleeping well,” Quinn said, feeling the need to defend himself.

“Shoulda called me,” Elliot muttered.

“What, for help sleeping?”

“Maybe.”

“What would you have done, knocked me out?”

“Maybe I woulda tired you out.”

If only it were that easy. Quinn laughed and it turned into a groan. Fuck that hurt. He placed his hand on his side.

“Just how sideways did this job go, Quinn?”

“I’m fine,” Quinn lied.

Eliot pulled over at the edge of a field and stopped the car. “Show me.”

Quinn shook his head. He should’ve just called a cab.

“Now,” Eliot demanded.

Quinn moved the fabric aside. It was even more awkward now that he was seated.

Eliot sucked in his breath but didn’t say anything. He leaned back, reached under the seat, and pulled out a small black bag. Quinn recognized it as Eliot’s first aid kit. “This’ll be easier if we get out of the car,” Eliot said.

“Easier for you maybe.” Quinn managed to stifle most of his groans as he carefully stepped out of the car and maneuvered himself out of his jacket. His shirt was soaked in his blood. That couldn’t be good.

Eliot stepped closer and made quick work of Quinn’s buttons. He carefully peeled the ruined fabric away. “You were stabbed.” It wasn’t a question.

“Just a little bit.” He pasted on a smile and pretended that it didn’t hurt. Spencer wasn’t buying it, of course.

He looked away as Eliot cleaned, poked, and prodded at the wound.

“Idiot,” Spencer grumbled. Quinn leaned back and closed his eyes. “I should probably take you to the hospital,” Eliot said. He didn’t sound as if the idea appealed to him in any way.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Quinn said.

“You need stitches.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I have you, then.”

“I can’t give you anything for the pain,” Eliot said.

Quinn looked at him. “I think I’ll manage.”

Eliot spread a blanket he took from the trunk of his car out on the grass. “Lay down.”

Slowly, Quinn eased himself down on the blanket and lay down on his back. “Is this a date? Are you about to pull a picnic basket out from somewhere?”

“No picnic basket, but if you’re good, I might take you out for breakfast later.”

Quinn noticed that Eliot didn’t say it wasn’t a date. “Exactly how good do I have to be?”

-----

What the hell had Quinn been thinking? Why hadn’t he called? Eliot would have jumped at a chance to skip out on movie night to do a job with Quinn. It’d been a while since their last job together and he’d been feeling the itch to see him again. He should have called him, but without the excuse of a job to bring them together, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. It felt awkward and uncomfortable. Eliot hadn’t told his crew about his side jobs with Quinn. Or, the other stuff with Quinn. The messing around wasn’t a big deal. It was the feelings that Eliot didn’t know what to do about. So, he let a month go by without seeing or even talking to Quinn, even though the impulse to phone him up in the middle of the night for no reason other than to hear his voice had been getting stronger and stronger the longer they’d been apart.

Quinn’s injury wasn’t that bad once Eliot cleared the blood away. It was a long cut but not all that deep. Quinn had been sliced, not stabbed. He wasn’t going to bleed out or anything but stitches would help the wound heal up properly and make it less likely to get infected. He took his time, making careful work of it. It was a warm night, the sky clear, and the stars out in full force. Quinn was nearly the perfect patient, keeping still with his eyes closed while Eliot worked. He was perfect in a lot of ways.

-----

Eliot sure was taking his own sweet time with needle and thread. Quinn kept his eyes closed and did his best to breathe through the pain. This was not something he needed to watch, even if it did involve Eliot doing something with his hands. Quinn liked Eliot’s hands. Immensely. The man had skills.

“Anything else you need me to take care of?” Eliot asked.

Quinn opened his eyes and gave him a flirty kinda smile. “I can think of a few things.” He’d been doing nothing but thinking of those things for nearly a month straight. The longer they were apart, the deeper his need for Eliot grew.

Eliot leaned down, careful not to press anywhere near Quinn’s injury. He tried to infuse his kiss with everything he was feeling. The worry, the annoyance, the tenderness, and the need.

Quinn kissed him back slowly, like he was trying to make the moment last as long as possible. Quinn turned ever so slightly. “I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I’m not sure I’m up to moving around all that much. I wouldn’t want to unravel any of your lovely stitches, especially after how hard you worked on them.”

“We don’t have to do anything, we could just lay back and watch the stars,” Eliot said.

“I think I can handle something a bit more energetic than stargazing.”

“Yeah?” Eliot moved a little closer.

“Yeah,” Quinn said.

Eliot pushed Quinn gently onto his back. “Don’t worry about me. Let me take care of you.”

-----

Eliot wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You’re going to need a shirt.”

Quinn’s confusion must have shown on his face.

“Breakfast, remember?” Eliot stood up and brushed his hair out of his face. “I’ve got some extra clothes in the trunk. I might even have a shirt that’ll fit you.”

The shirt fit, unfortunately. It was a black t-shirt with the words THIEF JUICE emblazoned on the front and IT’S A MOUTH CRIME on the back. Quinn put it on while trying hard not to laugh. “What the hell is thief juice and why is it a mouth crime?”

Eliot shook his head. “You really don’t want to know.”

The thing was, Quinn did want to know. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to be a part of Eliot’s life.

They got back in the car and Eliot drove to a little hole-in-the-wall all-night diner that was freaking amazing. Quinn ordered the pancake special with sides of bacon, sausages, and home fries. Eliot got steak tips and eggs along with a side of bacon. He pushed the eggs around his plate in silence. Something was obviously bothering him.

“Something on your mind?” Quinn asked.

Eliot put down his fork. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was reading too much into whatever this is between us,” he said between bites.

“What do you mean?” He sounded angry.

Quinn looked down at his plate. “Are we friends? Fuck buddies? Or you know —“ He waved his fork around in the air.

Eliot picked up his fork. “Don’t be an idiot.” He reached over and stabbed a wedge of Quinn’s pancake onto his fork, tasted it, and nodded approvingly. “Not bad, I might have to get that next time.”

Quinn, still not getting his answer, kicked Eliot under the table.

Eliot glared at him, put his fork down on his plate, and leaned over. Suddenly they were kissing. Right there at the table. In public. “Does that answer your question?” Eliot asked breathlessly.

“I’m not really sure…” Eliot’s lips were on his again before Quinn even finished the sentence.

Later, in the car, they passed the turn that would have taken Quinn back to his place. “Where are we going?” Quinn asked, trying to sound like it didn’t really matter.

Eliot turned to him and smiled. “I’m bringing you home.”

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