Chapter Text
8 years after the first meeting
Sometimes Quinn wonders why he even took jobs from mobsters anymore. They were annoying and prone to doublecrossing. And somehow liked to put him in handcuffs. He had no idea why they thought it would stop him from snapping their necks. Take this guy, right in front of him with no fighting skills at all, who thought that 4 people with guns could save his life.
"So maybe now we renegotiate the deal," the leader said. Quinn had to force himself not to laugh out loud. Who did this guy think he was? "Renegotiation after the package has already been delivered," Quinn sighed, "Hardly seems fair." There were footsteps coming toward the room they were in, slight uneven gait. The mobsters didn't notice.
"What terms did you have in mind?" The footsteps got louder, until a familiar figure stepped into the light. Red shirt, wild hair. Yep, he recognised him just fine. "Quinn." The thugs spun around, training their guns at the newcomer. "Eliot Spencer," Quinn allowed himself a smirk, "Its been a while, 3 years maybe? You should have called!" "Hey, I came to offer you a job this time." The thugs would get themself whiplash from how they followed the conversation like a tennismatch. "As you can see. I'm fairly unhappy in my current jobsituation. What terms did you have in mind?" Two thugs moved towards Eliot when he opened his mouth to answer. Both went down with a grunt when Eliot drove his elbows into their respective faces. The move put him off balance but he rightened himself the next second. "One Week," he said, "Six figures." Quinns smirk grew wider, "Not bad."
While all of them were still focused on Eliot Quinn used the opportunity to drive his elbows in the faces closest to him. They went down the same way as their colleagues. "And I'd owe you a favor." They both dropped another thug each. "Again? Alright i can deal with that." Quinn said amused when only the leader was left standing. Eliot joined him at his side. "We've got a deal?" Quinn held out his bound hands for him to take, "Deal." They shook on it.
Eliot herded Quinn quickly away from the warehouse once they had gotten rid of the handcuffs and made sure that no one would follow them. There was a nervous energy to Eliot, that he couldn't put his finger on. The older hitter had a car ready and went straight to the airport after they made a quick stop at Quinns hotel to retrieve his Go-bag.
Eliot kept drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Quinn watched him in his periphery. "Those burnmarks are finally gone i see," he pointed out after studying his face for a while. "Was about time don't you think? Its been years afterall," Eliot gave him a quick look, then focused back on the road. "You let your hair grow out," he observed. "That I did. So are you gonna tell me about this job?" "Can only give you the shortversion now." "Go on." Quinn could be patient. "An old mark of ours blew up a warehouse with Nates father in it. Nate wants to destroy him. But it's the guy who got us together in the first place and trained his security system specifically on us. So we need new faces for this job. Also he's got an equally rich accomplice." Quinn felt the temperature drop around them as Eliot spoke. His voice was icy and grim. "Are we gonna kill someone?" Quinn asked suspicious. He wouldn't have a problem with a little more blood on his hands but he was certain that Eliot wouldn't want to do it. "Nate might. I'll try to stop him. Won't be easy though," Eliot was chewing on his lip as he said that, "I can't let him do it Quinn..." The picture of a kicked puppy sprung in his head again as he exchanged looks with Eliot. "Then we'll make sure he won't. That's part of the job too, right?" "Right."
The airport was packed with people and Quinn didn't like it. The endless movement around him put him on edge. Which was one reason why he kept the flying to a minimum. The other was: He didn't like planes either. They were like tight boxes with people invading his space. It felt like a trap.
He was following behind Eliot when someone brushed up against his side. It made Quinn take a step back, but there was somebody else there who gave him a push in the other direction. Quinn turned to see who touched him only for another person to bump into him. He felt threatened, vulnerable and overwhelmed.
"Quinn? Hey man, you good?" Eliot had noticed that Quinn had stopped following him and frowned. Quinn suddenly felt like a deer in headlights and quickly shoved his hands into his pockets so Eliot couldn't see them tremble. "M'fine," he answered as he ducked his head to hurriedly join the other hitter.
Eliot studied him closely, "You don't exactly look fine, man." Quinn made a point of looking everywhere but at Eliot. "Can we just get onto that damn plane?" the younger man mumbled. "Sure" Eliot gave him a last puzzled look before he started to move again, Quinn hot on his heels.
Quinn could see how Eliot relaxed into his seat when they finally arrived at their destination. He wished he could do that too but instead of relaxing his nerves made his heart pound harder in his chest. His eyes flitted around nervously up until the moment were someone grabbed his wrist. Quinn tried to jerk away on instinct but Eliot had an iron grip. "Take a breath man. You'll give yourself a heartattack if you keep that up." Quinn did as he was told while Eliots thumb rubbed circles on his wrist. He felt his heart settle a little.
Quinn scrubbed his free hand over his eyes, "Sorry... I..." "S'fine," Eliot interrupted, letting go of his hand. Quinn gave him a questioning look. "It is," Eliot insisted. Quinn nodded and leaned back into the seat.
To say he suffered through the next 12 hours would be an understatement. It must've looked bad enough that Eliot casually took is hand again after a short while and proceeded to rub soothing circles on his wrist. They didn't say a word about it.
"What do you mean you're not ready yet? We're supposed to meet up in a few hours! A day? I hope you know what you're doing Nate because delaying by a day could throw the whole damn con! What do you mean the geeks are not back yet? Dammit Hardison. Okay, we'll meet tomorrow then. Yeah see you too."
Eliot ended his call with a grim expression on his face. "Trouble?" Quinn asked. He had finally calmed down now that they had left the airport in Boston. "Delay. Looks like we have 24 hours to kill now. Damn geeks." "I'll get a hotel then?" Quinn said unsure, fiddling with his bag. Eliot huffed, "Nah, I've got a safehouse not far from here. Should be fine for a day." Quinn frowned, "You really wanna let me into your safehouse?" "What? You wanna murder me in my sleep or something?" Eliot teased. "You might," Quinn shot back and regretted it the moment Eliots eyes turned stormy. He really had to run his mouth there, huh? Its not like that man literally could kill him on the spot with the straps of his own bag. Eliot turned away. "I gonna have to tell you about something...," he mumbled.
"What do you mean you guys took on Moreau???" Quinn felt like someone had emptied a bucket of icewater over his head. They had just settled into Eliots living room, beers in hand and Eliot just dropped that bomb on him. Eliot growled lowly and took a swing of his beer. "Nate was being blackmailed into doing it. Its not like we had much of a choice," he said. "That's insane!" "Yes it was. And we fucking did it. Moreau is behind bars forever!"
For all exitement Quinn saw on Eliot, there was still something bothering him. "You did something you didn't wanna do," Quinn guessed and Eliots face fell, "We got locked in a warehouse. Nate and I and you know... Ms. Blackmail. Only way out was through a killbox. I had to protect Nate...," Eliot trailed off. He didn't need to finish. Quinn understood perfectly.
"How many?" he asked gently. Eliot ran his hand through his hair, "15.... 20?... I don't know. I just took all of them out with their own guns... almost got Moreau too but Nate held me back." Quinn stopped himself from whistling. What Eliot said was impressive but he could see the regret that the man carried in the way he stared at the floor.
Quinn carefully moved over to sit next to him and nudged his knee, "Team safe?" "Yes" "Moreau locked away?" Eliot nodded. "Then i'd say you did the right thing. I guess you could've just put a bullet into that guy and call it a day but I bet you and your conartists obliterated him in places he never anticipated." "You could say that. Sophie even faked her death to sell the act." Quinn snorted, "Would've liked to see that." Eliot joined him in the amusement. "I bet she'll tell you all about it if you ask her."
"So what did he do when he saw you again?" Quinn asked curiously. "Moreau? His face did something really difficult. It looked kinda funny actually. But in the end he was just very pissed off. Didn't change the fact that Hardison took over all his accounts and he ended up in prison. Another funny thing is, and this is something Nate told us, that he didn't figure out til the end what our organisation is. In his mind he just got conned by a bunch of random people," Eliot was grinning now.
"Do you think he'll mind a visit?" Quinn asked. Eliot grabbed his arm at that and made him look him in the face. "Listen to me," he said with a warning tone, "You won't ever go near that guy. You understand? You. Won't." Quinn taken aback, both by the sudden closeness between them and the worried look in Eliots eyes. "Okay. I won't," Quinn chuckled. "I promise," he added when Eliot didn't look too convinced. "I wouldn't want you to go down that path." There's something raw in his eyes that Quinn couldn't quite place. So he just covered Eliots hand with his and gave it a squeeze. He felt his grip lessen a bit under his fingers.
"Come, lets get some rest before that crazy mission of yours," Quinn said lightheartedly, but Eliot didn't move when the taller man started to get up. "Eliot?" The grip on his arm had tightened again and left him standing in an awkwardly halfbend way. "Eliot?" Quinn tried again, when he just kept staring at his face. The older man blinked and shook his head a bit to get out of his stupor. "Ya went away there for a little bit buddy. You okay?" "I... yeah I guess," Eliot slowly let go of Quinn, who wasn't too convinced. "Did something else happen with Moreau?" Quinn sat back down, his shoulder pressed close to the others. Eliot had started to grind his teeth. "Parker went through his office after Moreau had been arrested and... and she found my old dogtags. I guess I must've given them to him at some point...," he forced out a laugh that just sounded sad in Quinns ears. "What did you do with them?" "Told Parker to keep 'em." "And she did?" "For now, she said."
"Does is feel okay if she keeps them?" Quinn asked after a bit of silence. Eliot just nodded. This damn kicked puppy eyes. "Then it must be okay then," Quinn said simply. "I guess so?" Eliot agreed.
He cleared his throat, "I should uhm.. go find some spare blankets or something. One of us is taking the couch tonight cause you know. Only one bed..." He stood up. "I don't mind sharing," Quinn said before he could stop himself. Oh shit. He mentally kicked himself. Bad enough that Eliot had to hold his hand on the plane and now Quinn asked him to share a bed? He felt his cheeks grow hot. "But I'm also okay with taking the couch," he added quickly. "I'm not putting your lanky ass on that couch," Eliot growled." "I ain't putting your old ass here either," Quinn shot back.
Eliot narrowed his eyes at him, "I'm not that much older than you." "You for sure look the part." Quinn was sweating. He already dug a shallow grave for himself. Now the way he kept running his mouth would certainly make sure it was sufficiently deep when Eliot was fed up enough to drop him.
"7 years are not that much," Eliot argued, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Quinn quickly did the math in his head. He was 29 now which put Eliot at 36. "People over 35 qualify as old." Quinn mumbled. Eliot snorted, "You are so childish!" The sound brought a smile back to Quinns face. He just might stay alive afterall. "Okay then. Boy," Eliot smirked, "Get your ass up. We've got an early morning ahead."
The bed wasn't particularly big or comfortable. They didn't have to squeeze in, there was maybe a hand of space between them. Eliot had turned away from him and Quinn had to take a deep breath before doing the same. But the peace that had settled in the dark room was short-lived. Quinn had just started to drift off when Eliot made a pained noise. Quinn was awake before he could place what he was hearing. He moved carefully when he turned to look over his shoulder. Eliot had rolled onto his back, his breathing was uneven and his face was distorted in pain. But he was definily not awake yet.
Quinn had never seen somebody else have nightmares before, definitely never dealed with anybody else's but his own. "Eliot?" he tried. Nothing. "Eliot," he moved closer, softly placing a hand on the one that Eliot had buried tightly in the blanket. Quinn could feel his fingers relax a bit under his palms. "You are so gonna kill me in the morning for this, Quinn muttered as he pulled the older man closer and wrapped his arms around him. Eliot visibly calmed at the contact, turned and pressed bis face against Quinns chest. He felt something go soft at the sight. "There you go," he whispered before closing his own eyes again, to get at least a few more hours of sleep in.
Eliot was gone when Quinn woke in the morning. He didn't say anything when Quinn joined him in the kitchen. The younger hitter then decided to not bring it up and pretend he didn't just get the best sleep in a very long time.