Title: Warm
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: G
Characters: Parker, Eliot Spencer
Length: 550
Content notes: None.
Author notes: For fan_flashworks Challenge #194, "Toes".
Summary: Parker has cold feet. Literally.


Parker presses her back against the arm of the sofa, arms dangling behind her. She stretches out one leg. Careful, careful. Must be careful. Can't give away the slightest hint--

Eliot snags her ankle. "Cut it out."

She tries on a pout like Sophie showed her but Eliot doesn't look away from the television. She's not sure if the problem is in her expression or if it's just Eliot being so Eliot-y. She tells herself to test it on Hardison later. He always lets her know if she did it right. He's brilliant that way.

Twisting from the hip, she pulls her foot out of Eliot's grasp, then prods him in the leg with her toes.

Eliot glares at the television.

Parker prods him again.

"What, Parker?"

"Lift your leg."

He growls. "No."

Before she can dig her toes into his thigh one more time, Eliot grabs her feet. He settles them on top of his leg. Without looking away from the hockey game, he starts to rub her feet.

No surprise, Eliot's strong. She's known that for years. What she doesn't expect is the way his thumb pressing into her arch makes her spine lengthen and her ribs expand, like hanging from a rafter makes her feel open and alive.

She's enjoying it. No, more. She appreciates it. Sophie had shown her what to do when she appreciates something like this.

Parker lets her eyelids droop, raises the corners of her mouth just a little, and hums for three heartbeats.

Eliot's fingers hesitate, then he clears his throat and starts rubbing again, but slower and more gently.

She glances at him through her lashes. The tip of the ear she can see is reddened. That's one of the signs Sophie told her to look for. She did it right. Parker wriggles her toes in satisfaction.

"If you want me to keep doing this, you gotta hold still," Eliot says.

"I like this," she says. "It feels good. But my toes are cold."

"Put on your socks."

"Lost 'em."

Eliot rolls his eyes.

Parker wrinkles her nose. The foot rub is nice, but it isn't what she'd intended when she first slipped onto the couch. She thinks about it for a moment. Use your words, Parker.

"I wanted. I mean, this is nice. But I wanted to put my feet under your leg. Because your thighs are much bigger than Hardison's. So they're much warmer."

Eliot looks at her. "I have warm thighs?"

Parker nods and smiles. "It's a very distinctive warmth."

He snorts. "No. You're not sticking your feet under my leg."

Parker looks away but a rustling sound draws her attention back to Eliot.

He pulls a wadded-up blanket from the corner of the couch. He shakes it out, drapes it over his lap, and tucks it around her feet. "There," he says. "Warm feet. Now can I watch the hockey game?"

She examines the tent her toes have made in the blanket. "Good," she says. She relaxes her spine and lets her head and shoulders dangle over the couch's arm.

Eliot chuckles. His hand rests over her shins. "Ten pounds of crazy," he mutters.

She closes her eyes with a smile, feeling the warm stretch in her abdomen. "Five pound bag."