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Leverage Prompt List!

Here it is! This is your formal invitation to give me ideas of what you want to see me write for Leverage fic. I'll write you a Sophie/Nate anything, and I'll take a crack at Hardison and Parker, if that's what you're into. I promise nothing explicit, but I could give it a shot if it's what you want.

Help me out in my goal of writing at least a couple hundred words a night til the next episode!

ETA: Your prompts can be anything! Leave me a picture you want a story based off of, a lyric that reminds you of Nate and Sophie, a phrase that you want one of them to say. You can leave a detailed plot or just a location you want them to be in. Nothing is off limits here :)

The eagle has landed!

Well, guys, I've made it to Washington. In all actuality, I've been here for about a week, but this last week has been all about finding a job. So far, no luck. But, I'll get one! (I hope.)

In any case, I'll be writing again as soon as I can wrap my head around it.

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'It's Autumn!'

I am definitely feeling the impending move pressure. I put in my official, all encompassing resignation with CCF/R today. I'll be turning in my gear on the 24th, the day before I leave. Ironically, it's an A shift, so I guess I'll be getting my goodbyes in to the guys at the same time.

I'll probably cry.

At the same time, since I've bought my tickets, my time has suddenly become a commodity. Everyone wants to go get lunch, or dinner, or go see a movie or whatever (and what happened to the part of moving where you're supposed to save money? So much for that).

I am happy to be leaving, but it's definitely bittersweet.

For the first time, I am experiencing fall in Juneau. Fall is my favorite season. It has been since I was a kid. I remember watching Winnie the Pooh, and feeling the same awe that Pooh had on his face when he looked out his window and exclaimed, "It's autumn!" I have always loved the way the season settles in. Things get crisper, colder, colors change.

Orange is my favorite color. During fall, orange is everywhere, especially bright against a backdrop of evergreens.

In Juneau, if you blink, you miss the season. For the last six years, I've blinked. I've always been at school, or working, and this year, I've gotten to sit back and watch it.

In two weeks, it'll be snowing, and winter will turn the entire town monochrome.

But it won't matter to me, because I'll be chasing Fall.

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So, seriously, this week has been ridiculous for me, but I'm expecting it to calm down exponentially now that I've bought my ferry tickets. I'll officially be leaving Juneau on the 25th of October. Tickets are paid for, and I expect my blood pressure to drop back to my normal 120/70 when I pick up the paper tickets tomorrow morning.

But, right now, because I literally can't hold my head up anymore, I'm going to go to bed.

I promise, pinky promise, I will get back to posting every day, once I can breathe again.

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Prevarication (1/?)

To be fair, she tried. She didn't really find hockey anymore interesting than baseball or football, but hockey was something that Nate seemed to like, and so, she tried. She bought tickets to see the Bruins versus the Flames, something that Nate said would be 'no challenge, so long as the Bruins didn't choke. Again.' and then he'd taken another long drink from a glass that probably should have been empty a long time ago and Sophie had smiled and nodded and pretended she knew what that meant. And, alright, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that hockey was played on ice, but did that really mean the stadium – court? field? whatever – have to be so cold?

She was about to open her mouth to ask Nate that when his shoulders visibly tensed in front of her, and Sophie had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't to keep the young twenties couple in front of him from knocking the beer out of his hand. Nate, for all that he was a drunk and an ass, had better balance than most people she knew. Except for Parker, of course.

Over his shoulder, she couldn't see what had made Nate stop short, but she followed him anyway as he handed off both beers to an enthused hockey fan and strode purposefully through the crowd. People moved out of his way instinctively, and Sophie followed in his wake without brushing her elbows against middle aged men and young women. She took a second to admire the authority in Nate's walk. He didn't even know he was doing it, and that was probably what made it so attractive.

“Sophie,” Nate barely turned to look over his shoulder, and gave a quick jerk of his head toward a woman about fifty feet in front of them, wringing her hands and looking very, very lost. Sophie knew without asking that had seen something most others would miss. Seen a problem others would dismiss.

Maybe they installed a radar in his brain during his time at IYS.

She shook off the thought, as promising as it was, and refocused her attention on the woman in front of her. Nate split off, clearly in search of the trouble that had befallen what seemed to be a middle aged mother, probably of two.

The woman was short, shorter than Sophie, her graying hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail and wrinkled taking root at the corner of her eyes and around her mouth. In her hand she clutched a cell phone – a smart phone, Sophie corrected herself, sure that Hardison would lecture her later for mistaking the two again. In her purse, evidence of a younger child's toys peeked out of pockets.

She hoped this wasn't another kidnapping case. Nate was always so hard to deal with when it came to kids.

Not that he was easy to deal with at any time, really.

“Hello there,” Sophie smiled warmly, unsurprised when the woman turned to her with a look that spoke of trust. Parker hadn't quite figured out how to make people trust her with just two words, but she was improving everyday. Sophie liked working with her. “My friend over there,” she gestured vaguely to where Nate had wandered off. “said he saw you get in a spot of trouble. We're here to help.”

It was no surprise to Sophie that this, their third first date, ended with them sitting at their usual table at McRory's, Nate with a glass of whiskey, Sophie with water, and their client sitting teary eyed across the table from them, spinning her sad story.

If she didn't know better, she'd say Nate planned on this, every time.
A few months ago I had a friend of mine, a certified mechanic, replace the ball joints on my truck. Apparently, when he put the drivers side back together, he put it back together a little off kilter, and now my wheel bearings and spindle are all out of wack. This means that you can literally grab my tire and pull it back and forth, which is not a motion that a tire should do. Since this is a very serious safety hazard, in addition to the other, less critical issues my truck has (core support, broken leaf spring, bad radius arm bushings...), it can't safely make a 2000 mile drive through Canada.

What it can do, however, is make a 122 mile drive from Bellingham to Bremerton.

Unfortunately for me (and any readers out there), the ferry from Juneau to Bellingham is a three day trip.

I don't do very well with inactivity. Three days is a really long time to be trapped on a boat.

The ferry doesn't leave Juneau until the 25th of October, so I have a few weeks to get everything together. Tomorrow I need to measure my truck and buy the ticket. On Tuesday my truck is going in for an oil change, fuel filter change, and to fix the headlight switch (which I freely admit I broke out of frustration. I should have broken the arm rest, because that would be less annoying).

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Plan is:

Two tomorrow, two the day after, and I'll be caught up!

The inside man

“No, no, no – no. This is a bad idea.”

“You've been in there before.”

“Yeah, but never in handcuffs. Mm-mm, no way, Nate. Not doing it.”

Nate sighed, and shifted to slightly different tactics. “We'll get you out in no time. You'll spend one, maybe two days in there, tops.”

Hardison didn't look remotely convinced, shaking his head all the harder. “You can't put me in lock up, Nate, you're out of your damn mind. Put Eliot in prison, he'll fit right in.”

“Hey!”

Nate waved a hand at Eliot dismissively, and turned his focus back to Hardison. He knew Hardison found it unnerving to be the center of his attention, and he would use that to his advantage now. He waited until Hardison started to fidget before speaking.

“Do you remember when you all broke me out of prison?”

Making an incredulous face at him, Hardison drug out the word, “Yes.”

“And do you remember when we took down Sherman?”

“Of course I do.”

“And when we took over a private school.”

“Psh, yeah.”

“Then you know,” Nate turned the file and slid it across the tabletop, “That we almost always need an inside man. And the inside man we need right now is someone who can pass as a white collar criminal. Which you are.”

Hardison frowned, and glared at Nate. “Why can't you do it?”

“Me?” Nate smiled, and Hardison was reminded of a shark. “I've done my time. It's your turn.”

Before Hardison could protest, Nate stood and left him at the table. Parker grinned at him from the other stool. “Don't worry, if Nate leaves you in prison, Eliot and I will break you out.”

He groaned and buried his head in his hands. Parker clapped him on the back like he'd agreed with her. “Why oh why don't I find that reassuring?”

He wondered the same thing two days later when he was lying on a lumpy, prison issued mattress in bright orange, wishing he had an ear bud. Eliot was supposed to bring him one the next day, as a guard, and Sophie and Nate would be stirring up trouble outside the four gray walls of his temporary home. Parker would be at the bank, making sure the blackmail was delivered. He would be out by dinnertime the next day.

And yet, he still thought of just how right his first foster mother had been when she'd told him if he kept up like he was, the best he could expect was a jail cell.

“Dammit Nate,” he grumbled under his breath, “Next time, I pick who gets to go to prison.” Orange looked better on Nate then it did on him, anyway.
I haven't forgotten you guys! I'm up to a tally of owing four, and you can bet I'll be knocking em out of the park, starting tonight.

Snookums

“Okay, Parker, touch his arm, just above the elbow. That will tell him that you trust him, and he'll be more likely to take you to the safe.” Sophie leaned into the table in the back of Lucille 3.0 or whatever number they were on, her nose a few inches from the screen. “Good, now... Parker, laugh. He's trying to be charming. Touch your throat and lean back from him a little bit... great, now put yourself just a little more in his personal space.”

For a moment, Sophie admired the birds eye view Hardison kept in the van. He was hooked into every security camera in the museum, and Sophie could see Eliot and Nate in the corner, watching Parker as she hooked the mark. Sophie sighed, as quietly as possible. As much as she appreciated the view, she hated being trapped in the van, but she made a terrible blonde, and this man had a weakness for blondes.

Then again, so had Nate, and that had only proved to be a problem momentarily.

“Sophie, what do I do?” Parker hissed, and Sophie gave her head a quick shake, refocusing on Parker. The mark had put his hand low on her back, and Sophie grinned in triumph.

“Parker, just relax. Ask him if he wants to go somewhere a little more... private. Smooth your hand over the lapels in his jacket as you say it, look up at him through your eyelashes.”

She watched Nate watch Parker on the screen, and smiled brilliantly when he looked directly into the camera and raised an eyebrow, presumably at her (who else would it have been? Hardison was in the building, posing as a security guard and removing any type of technological security there was to be found).

“That looked very familiar, Sophie.”

She let her smile show in her voice, mischievous and soft. “I don't know what you're talking about, darling.”

As soon as she said it, she regretted it, which was not a feeling Sophie was very familiar with. The silence on the comms was deafening, and then Eliot grumbled, “Darling?”

Nate cleared his throat and turned away, and Sophie was pretty sure she could see his neck turning red, even on the tiny screen in front of her. “Right. Well...”

Hardison changed the subject, sort of, breaking in with, “Well, sweethearts, I have done all I can do here. Motion detectors are off, alarm system has a backdoor that could fit Eliot's ego, and the emergency numbers have been rerouted to Nate's cell, so unless they've got like, trip wires in the vent shafts or somethin', we should be good to go.”

Nate gave her a long suffering look through the camera, and he and Eliot followed Parker's path upstairs to get her out of the marks office. Hardison staged a theatrical exit from the security desk (that boy did have a flair for dramatics), and Sophie pulled the van around to the back of the building for them.

It was about then that Sophie realized that simply changing the subject wasn't going to be enough. They were never going to live this down.

Hardison started it. He bumped Eliot with his elbow and grinned, “Darling.”

Eliot played along, straight faced but obviously amused. “Sweetheart.”

“Babycakes.”

“Sweet cheeks.”

“Snookums.”

“Honeybuns.”

“Muffin.”

“Popsicle!”

Hardison furrowed his brow, turning to look at Parker.

“What? I thought we were talking about food.”

Sophie stifled her smile and slipped her hand into Nate's, giving it a gentle squeeze. While she could absolutely sympathize with the pained look on his face, she didn't think she'd trade moments like this for anything in the world.