(More) 2AM Conversations

After 03x13 (The Morning After Job)

Hardison and Nate

Nate's POV

It was late when Nate finally returned to his apartment after toasting their victory with Sophie – a drink which had, of course, been followed by several others. For the first time since the Italian had appeared in his life, he felt like they were very nearly on top of the situation again, and gaining ground fast, which was indeed something to celebrate.

The hacker was still working, sitting at the table with computers set up all around him, a slew of printed documents collapsing to the floor from a pile on the chair to his left. He peered over the younger man's shoulder to see a bewildering wall of code computing on one laptop screen, and no fewer than six overlapping windows open across two others. The ever-present bottle of orange soda was nearly empty, and a half-eaten box of Thai takeout attested that he hadn't moved since Nate had left him five hours before.

"Can I help you?" Hardison asked waspishly, turning to glare at him.

Nate did a double take at his tone, humming in a vaguely curious way. "No, just looking."

The young man snorted, turning his glare back to his screens before fishing a legal-sized sheet of paper covered with arrows and abbreviated bank account numbers from the pile on the floor and adding several more notes, an arrow from 'VE77_4948-2' to 'Trebol Ltd. CH93_7864-5,' and one from that box to a circle (Moreau? SX32_9990-1).

"Seriously, Nate, what do you want?" he snapped, tossing the complicated map of transfers back onto the chair. "'Cos you're drunk and I'm a li'l busy right now!"

The older man raised his hands placatingly, taking a step back. Hardison gave him a hard stare for a moment before turning back to his monitors with a huff.

"What was that?" Nate found himself asking.

"What?"

"That – that huff."

Hardison looked at him long enough to roll his eyes, but didn't answer, turning back to his screens and his data with an expression of outright disgust.

"What?" Nate insisted, searching his memory for anything he might have done to anger the younger man. "Did I… Is this because I took the night off, or…? Because this is still my apartment…" little though it seems so lately, he added silently, eyeing the hastily covered bullet holes in the windows and the door, the empty shelves and tables that had once held various knick-knacks and books.

The hacker glared at him, then hesitated before saying: "No, it's not. I mean, yeah, it's a li'l irritating, seein' you kickin' back an' spending the night drinking when I have to work, but naw, I get it – can't do anything until I get this done, but… it's…"

"What?" Nate asked again, rather more impatiently.

"You can't kill Parker, okay?" the younger man said in a rush.

"What?" Now he was just confused. "Parker?"

"She – you – she looked dead, man," Hardison said, with a self-conscious little shrug.

Nate blinked at him. "You know that was the point…?"

"Goddamnit, yes, I know that was the point. And before you say it, yeah, I know she didn't mind, she already tol' me it was the easiest grift she's ever done. But… I just couldn't stand seeing her, lying there, looking… dead."

"Um…" Nate didn't often find himself at a complete loss for words, but in this case, he could not for the life of him think of anything to say.

Hardison sighed. "Look, I know, it's dumb, but… just can we please not kill Parker from now on? I mean, girl scares me half to death all the time. I don' really need to see what it'd look like if…"

Nate bit his tongue on the celebratory alcohol he had drunk and the first comment that came to mind: that if one of Parker's rigs failed, she almost certainly wouldn't be having an open-casket funeral. But that made him think of Sophie's funeral, and the sight of her lying there, having just come so close to death after that bomb… they really did go through apartments, he thought, eyeing the bullet holes again. But in any case, he thought he understood, at least a little.

Eventually he nodded. "I'll file killing Parker with Plan M," he offered, with a slightly rueful smile, hoping that reminding the younger man of the now well-established inside joke would help lighten the mood.

It worked, or so he thought. It could have been his promise, rather than the reference, but the tension seeped out of Hardison's shoulders and he nodded. "Thanks," he answered, his tone only slightly grudging. Or that might have been Nate reading too much into it, because after a second he followed it with: "I just… I don't want to even think about... y'know?"

Nate nodded, moving close enough to clap his shoulder. "I… yeah."

The conversation subsided awkwardly as Hardison, apparently embarrassed, turned back to his work, and Nate tried to decide whether to comment further on the younger man's crush on their resident thief. Unable to think of anything to say, however, he eventually decided against it. The hacker had work to do, and there was nothing to say about Parker other than 'you've got it bad,' which was patently obvious, and likely to be unappreciated.

Instead he excused himself, muttering something about bed as he drifted toward the stairs. Hardison looked up long enough to wish him a dismissive (and possibly passive aggressive?) good night. (He wasn't quite sure he believed the kid was fine with pulling yet another all-nighter while everyone else had the night off.)

He did head to bed, though once there, sleep eluded him. Intra-team relationships were the furthest thing from his mind: As soon as Hardison could give him the outline of Moreau's financials and the extrapolated picture of his organization, he could start planning. This was going to be a good one, he could feel it. He hadn't forgotten his promise to Eliot: not only was he going to find a way to take out Moreau, the Italian was going down, and if there was anyone on this side of the Atlantic who doubted their ability to take out anyone who decided to fuck with the Leverage crew when he was done with that particular pair, well… they would learn their lesson in time. But Nate really didn't think that would be a problem: when this job was finally done, they really would be good, as well as back, and everyone would know it.