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chaletianTitle: Slices from an Apple Pie
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaletian
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Summary: The Leverage team has cause to run ‘The Apple Pie’… lifeguards and all.
“So, I’ve been thinking about it some, and I think it’s pretty clear who’d be best as the lifeguard.” Hardison’s voice is nonchalant.
“Yeah,” says Eliot, barely looking up from where he was shoving a towel into a duffle. “That would be me.”
Hardison moves forward, quick and eager. “See, that’s where you’re thinking wrong.” He aims a projector remote at the TV screen, and a powerpoint presentation suddenly appears.
“Why Hardison is the obvious choice to be the lifeguard,” reads Eliot. He looks at Hardison, disbelief quite evident. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Hardison raises a finger. “Just wait!” He clicks the remote again, and the next slide appears, a carefully annotated list (with bullet points). Eliot shakes his head, picks up the duffle bag, and wanders off.
oOo
“And I was saying to the guys that you were, like, totally the hottest chick here, so maybe you wanna, like, hang out or something?”
Parker sits cross-legged in the bikini Sophie had produced and stares at the teenager. He shifts from one foot to the other, less sure now that his plan is the piece of sparkling genius it seemed when he and the guys came up with it.
“So, you wanna? Hang out? We got beers.”
Parker stares at him for a few more seconds, than suddenly her smile flashes on and she stands up. “Sure, that’d be, like, totally awesome,” she says with an intonation that’s not quite right but she looks great in the bikini and the boy’s not listening to her anyway.
oOo
“And Harvey – that’s my husband – says that sure we can go to St Lucia, but then does he ever? No, he doesn’t! It’s all business this and meetings that and I ask you, how is a woman supposed to cope?”
“It’s so hard,” says Sophie sympathetically, rearranging herself artistically on the sunbed, careful not to dislodge her wide-brimmed hat. She’s doing the southern belle again – she’s particularly adept at it, putting it down to her triumphant stint as Scarlett O’Hara in a modern-dress (and inexplicably short-lived) production of Gone with the Wind – and is dressed accordingly.
“So, we just keep coming down here, and I guess it’s nice enough, but it’s not really all that classy, you know? I mean, I don’t mean that, y’know, people like you and I aren’t classy, but just…” she waves a permatanned, beringed hand “… the hoi polloi.” Harvey’s wife says the last two words with an emphasis that gives away more about her social position than she would probably like. Sophie smiles.
“Oh, my dear, I know just what you mean,” she gushes. “Why, when I see some of the people that come onto this beach, it makes me shudder. If my poor father could only see… well, never mind that. And some of youths! It quite makes me fear for my safety! If only they were nice boys… oh, like that one, over there.” She gestures to where Parker is sitting with her eager suitor. Harvey’s wife beams.
“That’s Todd. He’s our son.”
“Well, I’m sure I’m not surprised.”
They chat more, and then Sophie brings the conversation around to another benefit of the beach: the lifeguards.
oOo
“I feel like I’m in Baywatch,” grumbles Eliot, sitting in the lifeguard station.
“Yeah, that’s right, rub it in,” says Hardison’s disembodied voice into the ear receiver.
“Shut up,” says Eliot, but Hardison, a safe distance between the two of them, apparently feels no compunction to obey.
“You’re out there with the sun and the sand and the sea and girls in those little bikinis…”
“Hardison…” The tone is rife with warning, but Hardison carries on.
“…slicking themselves up with that oil that smells of coconut. You get all that, man. It’s all there, right in front of you. Can you smell the coconut? Can you? Tell me you can smell it!”
“Hardison…”
“Cuz I’m here in this car trying to keep track of y’all and I… Parker, don’t say that. He’s not a career criminal who’s going to be impressed by the kind of story where you climb through… oh, OK. So he’s going for that. That’s fine. You just… do that thing.”
“Have I mentioned lately how much I hate working with other people,” says Eliot.
“Whatever,” says Hardison dismissively. “Now, Sophie’s talking you up, so smile and look pretty.” Eliot makes a sound that might be a growl. “Manly. I totally meant manly. That was my bad.”
Eliot looks manly, and smiles at Harvey’s wife.
oOo
“Help. Help. I can’t swim.”
The van door opens and Nate climbs in, wearing a coastguard’s uniform. Hardison looks up, a pained expression on his face. “Man, you know how we complain about Sophie’s acting? That woman is Meryl Streep next to Parker.”
“Parker has her own skills.”
“Well yeah, that’s very true; I’m just sayin’, I don’t think we should let her do stuff near, y’know, human people. Cuz I’m pretty sure they can tell she ain’t one of them.”
Nate makes an impatient gesture. “Is he following her in?”
“Yeah,” says Eliot. From the parking lot, they can see him standing up and shading his eyes with his hand.
“OK. Parker, you know what you have to do.”
From over the receivers they hear the sound of splashing. “Help. I’m drowning.” Nate winces. Hardison nods sympathetically. “That’s what I’m talking about. Right there.”
There’s more splashing and after a moment they hear Harvey’s wife screaming, at which point Eliot runs down the ramp and heads for the sea.
“He’s got the running all wrong,” Hardison critiques. “I’d’ve done it better.”
oOo
So Parker pretended to drown and Harvey’s son Todd tried to save her and Parker nearly drowned him until Eliot saved them both, and Harvey’s wife was very (very) grateful. And Hardison pretended to be an ER doctor who said Eliot needed an urgent operation because of contaminated water in his lungs and… well, it ended as all good scams ended, with Harvey short of a whole pile of cash.
oOo
“Good job everyone,” says Nate that evening, back in the office.
“Yeah, whatever,” says Hardison sulkily, and takes a swig of his drink. “But next time I’m playing the damn lifeguard.”
THE END
Author:
chaletianFandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Summary: The Leverage team has cause to run ‘The Apple Pie’… lifeguards and all.
“So, I’ve been thinking about it some, and I think it’s pretty clear who’d be best as the lifeguard.” Hardison’s voice is nonchalant.
“Yeah,” says Eliot, barely looking up from where he was shoving a towel into a duffle. “That would be me.”
Hardison moves forward, quick and eager. “See, that’s where you’re thinking wrong.” He aims a projector remote at the TV screen, and a powerpoint presentation suddenly appears.
“Why Hardison is the obvious choice to be the lifeguard,” reads Eliot. He looks at Hardison, disbelief quite evident. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Hardison raises a finger. “Just wait!” He clicks the remote again, and the next slide appears, a carefully annotated list (with bullet points). Eliot shakes his head, picks up the duffle bag, and wanders off.
“And I was saying to the guys that you were, like, totally the hottest chick here, so maybe you wanna, like, hang out or something?”
Parker sits cross-legged in the bikini Sophie had produced and stares at the teenager. He shifts from one foot to the other, less sure now that his plan is the piece of sparkling genius it seemed when he and the guys came up with it.
“So, you wanna? Hang out? We got beers.”
Parker stares at him for a few more seconds, than suddenly her smile flashes on and she stands up. “Sure, that’d be, like, totally awesome,” she says with an intonation that’s not quite right but she looks great in the bikini and the boy’s not listening to her anyway.
“And Harvey – that’s my husband – says that sure we can go to St Lucia, but then does he ever? No, he doesn’t! It’s all business this and meetings that and I ask you, how is a woman supposed to cope?”
“It’s so hard,” says Sophie sympathetically, rearranging herself artistically on the sunbed, careful not to dislodge her wide-brimmed hat. She’s doing the southern belle again – she’s particularly adept at it, putting it down to her triumphant stint as Scarlett O’Hara in a modern-dress (and inexplicably short-lived) production of Gone with the Wind – and is dressed accordingly.
“So, we just keep coming down here, and I guess it’s nice enough, but it’s not really all that classy, you know? I mean, I don’t mean that, y’know, people like you and I aren’t classy, but just…” she waves a permatanned, beringed hand “… the hoi polloi.” Harvey’s wife says the last two words with an emphasis that gives away more about her social position than she would probably like. Sophie smiles.
“Oh, my dear, I know just what you mean,” she gushes. “Why, when I see some of the people that come onto this beach, it makes me shudder. If my poor father could only see… well, never mind that. And some of youths! It quite makes me fear for my safety! If only they were nice boys… oh, like that one, over there.” She gestures to where Parker is sitting with her eager suitor. Harvey’s wife beams.
“That’s Todd. He’s our son.”
“Well, I’m sure I’m not surprised.”
They chat more, and then Sophie brings the conversation around to another benefit of the beach: the lifeguards.
“I feel like I’m in Baywatch,” grumbles Eliot, sitting in the lifeguard station.
“Yeah, that’s right, rub it in,” says Hardison’s disembodied voice into the ear receiver.
“Shut up,” says Eliot, but Hardison, a safe distance between the two of them, apparently feels no compunction to obey.
“You’re out there with the sun and the sand and the sea and girls in those little bikinis…”
“Hardison…” The tone is rife with warning, but Hardison carries on.
“…slicking themselves up with that oil that smells of coconut. You get all that, man. It’s all there, right in front of you. Can you smell the coconut? Can you? Tell me you can smell it!”
“Hardison…”
“Cuz I’m here in this car trying to keep track of y’all and I… Parker, don’t say that. He’s not a career criminal who’s going to be impressed by the kind of story where you climb through… oh, OK. So he’s going for that. That’s fine. You just… do that thing.”
“Have I mentioned lately how much I hate working with other people,” says Eliot.
“Whatever,” says Hardison dismissively. “Now, Sophie’s talking you up, so smile and look pretty.” Eliot makes a sound that might be a growl. “Manly. I totally meant manly. That was my bad.”
Eliot looks manly, and smiles at Harvey’s wife.
“Help. Help. I can’t swim.”
The van door opens and Nate climbs in, wearing a coastguard’s uniform. Hardison looks up, a pained expression on his face. “Man, you know how we complain about Sophie’s acting? That woman is Meryl Streep next to Parker.”
“Parker has her own skills.”
“Well yeah, that’s very true; I’m just sayin’, I don’t think we should let her do stuff near, y’know, human people. Cuz I’m pretty sure they can tell she ain’t one of them.”
Nate makes an impatient gesture. “Is he following her in?”
“Yeah,” says Eliot. From the parking lot, they can see him standing up and shading his eyes with his hand.
“OK. Parker, you know what you have to do.”
From over the receivers they hear the sound of splashing. “Help. I’m drowning.” Nate winces. Hardison nods sympathetically. “That’s what I’m talking about. Right there.”
There’s more splashing and after a moment they hear Harvey’s wife screaming, at which point Eliot runs down the ramp and heads for the sea.
“He’s got the running all wrong,” Hardison critiques. “I’d’ve done it better.”
So Parker pretended to drown and Harvey’s son Todd tried to save her and Parker nearly drowned him until Eliot saved them both, and Harvey’s wife was very (very) grateful. And Hardison pretended to be an ER doctor who said Eliot needed an urgent operation because of contaminated water in his lungs and… well, it ended as all good scams ended, with Harvey short of a whole pile of cash.
“Good job everyone,” says Nate that evening, back in the office.
“Yeah, whatever,” says Hardison sulkily, and takes a swig of his drink. “But next time I’m playing the damn lifeguard.”
THE END
