Something Physical, Leverage/Chuck, NC-17

[phantisma]

Fandom: Leverage/Chuck
Title: Something Physical
Pairing/Characters: Eliot Spencer/John Casey, Hardison, Parker, Sophie, Nate, Chuck
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~7000
Summary: On a job, Eliot runs into someone he's come across before and pulls the job before they can finish...deciding that this is more of a one man job. That one man is John Casey, and when Eliot breaks into his apartment to finish the job, the fight and sex that follows is a continuation of that last encounter. Violent and bloody they go at each other, no holds barred, no furniture spared. If either of them walk away, it will be something of a miracle.

A/Ns & Warnings: For killerweasel for her generous spirit! I hope this lives up to your expectations! Warnings for violence, guns, bruises, fist fights, brawling, naked lubed up wrestling, more violence, biting, destruction of property, abuse of a bottle of beer, snark, more violence, more fist fighting, bodily injury and oh, yes...there's some sex in there too.





"Oh, hell no."

Eliot ducked back behind the corner, shoving Hardison back the way they had come. "Move!" He growled the word at a barely audible level as he pushed the geek back to the relative safety of the corridor opposite the one they had been heading for. "Nate, I'm calling it. No way in."

"What?" Hardison was gesturing with the doohicky in his hand and opening and closing his mouth. "You just gotta get me close enough to—"

"No. I ain't arguing." Eliot shook his head.

"Eliot, we won't get another chance this easy." Nate said in his ear.

"This ain't easy." Eliot growled. "It just got very, very complicated." He pushed Hardison back further. "Someone beat us to it."

"Isn't that why you're here?" Hardison asked.

Eliot cuffed him upside the head. "You want to end up in prison? Because if we go in there right now, that's exactly what's going to happen."

"I take it you know this someone?" Sophie asked.

Eliot shoved Hardison into the stairwell and started down the stairs. "You could say that."

"Okay, get out of there. We'll have to find another way."

Eliot knew there was only one other way, but he wasn't going to say that. Not right now, not when Hardison was bitching and Eliot could feel the heated flush that face had started and the memory of the last time he had seen that face filled his head. No way was he telling that story.

Ever.

To anyone.

Even if it meant this job got scrubbed and their client didn't get his what he wanted. Eliot hadn't wanted to take on this job anyway. Not when they knew that they'd likely end up going up against the military. If he had known that included the NSA and one John Casey, Eliot would have walked away completely…and convinced Nate to do the same.

"So you going to tell me what that was about?" Hardison asked as they got back to the office.

"No." Eliot responded, stopping the truck for him to get out, but not making a move to get out himself.

"You coming?"

"No." Eliot's hands tightened on the wheel. "I got something I need to do."

"This involve whoever you saw back there?"

"No." Eliot snapped, his lips curling. "Just…" He pulled out his ear piece and handed it out the window to Hardison. "I need a few hours."

He drove away without looking back. John Mother Fucking Casey. Of all the military metal heads, it had to be him.

Eliot drove without really paying attention to where. Anywhere but the office and those questioning looks…or worse, toward wherever the hell Casey had taken what they'd been looking to steal.

It had been a while since their paths had crossed. Eliot hit the steering wheel and headed for home. He needed a good work out. Something physical.

Which was the wrong way to think when it came to John Casey. Eliot remembered exactly how physical it got the last time they met. He'd worn the bruises for weeks. Broken bones, broken handcuffs, a dislocated shoulder and more marks than he could honestly remember when he'd finally gotten away.

Of course, Casey had been in much the same shape. Eliot took a certain amount of pride in that.

He let himself into his loft apartment, tossing his keys onto the table near the door and locking himself in. He cracked his neck and rolled both shoulders as he crossed to the bedroom corner and stripped down. Sweats and a worn out tank top replaced his jeans and button down, socks and sneakers on his feet and all that was left was taping up his hands.

He continued stretching as he moved to the opposite corner where his heavy bag and speed bag were hung and a treadmill faced out the window. Next to the treadmill the wall was lined with a rack of free weights.

Eliot grabbed the roll of tape off the rack and started the treadmill for a warm up. He settled into a light jog while he taped up, packing the tape down to protect his hands.

He sped up once he was done, working up into a flat out run.

It wasn't that he couldn't take Casey. He'd proven he could. It wasn’t' about that at all. He just couldn't handle Casey while he was babysitting the rest of the team, because Casey was damn good at his job.

Like Eliot, John Casey was a hitter. He just chose to take the patriotic route. He was Uncle Sam's enforcer. Which was exactly how they'd originally crossed paths.

Eliot had been in Spain working what was supposed to be a simple little retrieval job. His employer had failed to mention that there were other parties looking to intercept the package, or that one of those parties could be the US military.

Eliot beat them to the pick up, got out clean, or so he thought. It was in his hotel room, waiting for his flight from Madrid to London that he discovered he was wrong. Room service became a fight that lasted almost two hours and broke nearly ever piece of furniture in two rooms.

He picked up speed, his feet pounding against the rubber.

It was what came after the fighting that was really bothering him though.

The handcuffs twist tighter as the major pulls him up from the debris of what had been a dresser. Eliot turns one wrist and can feel the chain straining. "Tough guy when you're opponent's handcuffed."

"Kicked your ass before I got the cuffs on ya."

Eliot steps in, both of them are panting and bleeding and the wall is to the major's back now. Their chests brushed as they fought to catch their breath. "And I kicked yours after."

"Dream on cream puff. Let's go." His hand is tight on Eliot's shoulder, fingers on bare skin where the shirt has ripped open.

Eliot shrugs away, then uses the motion to shove the man into the wall, bringing his knee up with less force than he means to as his balance wavers. He's surprised when he brushes against a hardness under torn fatigues that isn't plastic.

A hand shoves his knee away hard, sending him back to the ground. There's a crack that tells him he's broken something and as he rolls to get his feet under him the cuffs give way. He swings a leg through the major's legs, bringing him down nearly as hard.

Eliot knows he should be running for the door, grab the container and run, but instead he's straddling over his would-be captor, his hand grabbing at his cock through his fatigues. "This for me, Major? Or do you get off on getting your ass handed to you?"

A hand delved into his torn jeans, grabbing at his own less than limp cock.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Eliot jumped off the treadmill and turned on the speed bag, forcing himself to focus into the rhythm, not think about John Casey.

Or the way he groaned when Eliot pulled on his cock.

Or the way he moved when he was kneeling up behind Eliot, cock rubbing over Eliot's prostate.

Or the way he screamed into what was left of the bed when Eliot slammed into him harder than either of their bodies had the juice left to sustain.

"Shit."

He shoved his hands into gloves and took to the heavy bag, working out the building tension in his body the only way he had at the moment, unless he wanted to go out and find some nameless hook up to take it out on.

He punched and kicked and sweated until his mind was mostly focusing on just what he was doing. At least until there was a knock at his door.

Eliot crossed to it and pulled off one glove to open it, leaving it open and walking away when he found Nate on the other side. "You don't just walk away in the middle of a job."

"Didn't." Eliot went back to the bag, his back to Nate.

"What do you call this?"

"Warm up." Eliot replied. He still did not want to talk about this with the team.

"For what?" Nate crossed the loft, arms crossed as he watched Eliot.

"Getting what we were hired to get."

"It looks to me like you're working off something, not warming up to something."

Eliot caught the bag and inhaled deeply. "I know who has it. Once I know where he is, I will go and get it."

Nate raised an eyebrow at him. "Something you're not telling me."

Eliot made a face. "Course. Not like you tell me all your deep dark secrets." He pulled his gloves off and threw them in the corner. He started pulling at the tape with his teeth.

Nate shook his head and crossed the room, holding out his hands. Eliot let him take the one hand and start working at the tape.

"John Casey." Eliot said after a few minutes of silence.

Nate nodded and didn't say a word, just tossed the balled up tape over his shoulder and reached for the other hand.

"NSA."

That at least made Nate stop and look up at him, his eyes narrowing. "NSA?"

Eliot nodded tightly.

"And you know him…how exactly?"

"We've…collided before."

"He scare you?" Nate finished with the tape and Eliot snorted. He pulled off his sweaty tank top and headed toward his bathroom.

"I gotta shower."

As he closed the door, he heard Nate on the phone, feeding the name to Hardison. At least that way, Eliot would know how to find the man.

He owed him a pair of handcuffs.




"So, what you're saying is you know this guy." Hardison said, grinning.

Eliot wanted to punch him in the face, but Parker danced between them. "What, like you had sex with him or something?"

"Just give me the address." Eliot said through clenched teeth, his hand out.

"What are you going to do?" Sohpie asked as she sat in the chair at the end of the conference table. "Walk in and ask him for it?"

"Something like that. Hardison?"

"Give him the address Hardison." Nate said.

Hardison looked like Nate was taking away his favorite toy, but he pushed a piece of paper into Eliot's hand. "Ain't as easy as all that. Do you know what kind of digging I had to do? The guy is a ghost…living some sort of undercover thing where he works at a Buy More? What is that about? Hinky, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask." Eliot said, his fingers closing around the paper as he turned toward the door.

He stopped just short of opening it, then stalked back into the room. "I'm probably going to be gone a few days. Don't come looking."

He headed for the door again, stopping with his hand on the knob. He turned back, but didn't really look up. "And I mean that. Don't come looking."

He opened the door. "That includes you Hardison."

Not that he expected they would. Not after he'd explained to Nate the seriousness of the situation…how John Casey was a hitter, with all the weight of the US government behind him. How Casey had nearly beaten him before…and how he owed Casey a little beat down. In private.

Nate would keep them from looking. For at least the first forty eight hours.

All Eliot had to do was get in, get the goods, give Casey a taste of his own medicine and get out again.



He started at the apartment, scooping out the layout. Casey wasn't there, but Eliot spotted nosey neighbors aplenty. He glared at the tall kid in the geek uniform as he went past.

Eliot found the best place to hide from prying eyes, not hard really in a complex like this that tried to make the place pretty with too many plants, making it a perfect place for predators.

He'd seen enough to know Casey may be living low, but he had his place geared up like it was some super spy fortress, He could use Parker or Hardison to get in…except for how he wasn't letting either one of them near this.

No, he'd have to find his own way in, or maybe it would be easier to draw the man out. As he was pondering that idea, movement caught his eye.

John Casey in a green shirt, talking to that geek kid. Casey was gruff with him, laughing to himself as he approached the door to the apartment. He stopped, his eyes scanning around him.

For a moment Eliot was sure Casey would call him out. Then the key sank into the lock and Eliot got ready to make his move. He slipped out of cover as the door opened, stepping fast and light until he was behind Casey, moving with him through the door.

The elbow came up hard, before they'd even cleared the door and Eliot caught it with both hands before it could connect, shoving Casey forward. The door closed and Casey came around, gun in hand.

Eliot held up both hands with a smirk. "Getting slow in your old age."

"I knew you were there."

"Right and you let me in your place so you could shoot me?"

"My place, my gun." He stepped a little closer, his eyes sweeping over Eliot. "You armed?"

"Don't like guns." Eliot responded, lifting his hands a little higher. "You know that."

Casey grinned, his eyes going distant for a second. "I remember you stripped my favorite piece in Madrid and I never did find all the pieces." The grin faded.

"That's what happens when you break into a man's room and put a gun to his face." Eliot countered. "Am I going to have to show you again?"

"This time, it's my room and you're the one breaking in." Casey countered. "I could have you arrested for breaking and entering."

Eliot nodded. "You could. But you won't."

He seemed to consider that and lowered the gun. "Well, it wouldn't be as much fun."

"We could just do the easy thing." Eliot dared a step away from the door. "I tell you why I'm here, you give me what I came for, I disappear."

Casey snorted. "And where's the fun in that?"

Eliot shrugged. "No broken bones, no one gets shot, no furniture gets broken."

"I think maybe I'd rather just kick your ass."

Eliot raised an eyebrow. "You could try."

"No weapons." He held the gun up and made a show of putting it aside. "No tricks. Just you and me."

Eliot took another step closer. "We talking fighting or sex?"

Casey frowned at him. "What? They aren't the same?"

Which explained an awful lot about John Casey, and for that matter, Eliot himself. The fight was going to be glorious. And bloody. And the sex…well that would be much the same he imagined.

Casey nodded like he could hear what Eliot was thinking. "Lock the door. Beer's in the fridge. I need a minute."

Eliot turned back to the door, throwing the deadbolt. Casey disappeared behind a door. Eliot swung his arms to loosen himself up, cracked his neck, then dropped his messenger bag on the floor near the door before he jogged in place to get his heart pumping. He didn't expect this to go any differently than the last time…it would be raw physical conflict, skin on skin. In fact, there was no point losing the shirt. He stopped and pulled it off, tossing it in the general direction of the television.

The door opened and Casey came out, his green Buy More shirt gone. "Cleared my calendar."

Eliot took the first shot, landing a good, clean punch to Casey's face. He staggered back a step. "What? No foreplay?"

Eliot grinned and followed up with a body shot. Casey retaliated, landing a good shot of his own. "You want dinner first?" Eliot backed off a step and turned away from Casey's next punch.

Casey followed and Eliot backed up, squaring off. "Anyone ever tell you you hit like a little girl?" Casey came at him fast, both hands moving quickly. Eliot blocked two blows, but got nailed by a third, stumbling a little before finding his feet.

"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?" He used the couch to jump up and around Casey, landing an elbow into one shoulder to a satisfying crunching sound.

They both crashed down to the ground and Eliot rolled clear when Casey tried to tie him up with his legs. Casey got to his knees first, launching himself at Eliot and sending them both careening into the coffee table, shoving it aside as they rolled and grappled in an effort to pin the other.

"You're holding back." Casey growled as he pressed his arm against Eliot's throat. "Don't insult me."

"Just getting warmed up." Eliot countered, reaching overhead for the boot he'd seen out of the corner of his eye. He slammed it into Casey's head, knocking him to the side enough to get the momentum to flip them.

He straddled over Casey, grinding their groins together. "So goddamn easy, Major?" Eliot asked as Casey's hardness became apparent.

Casey grabbed Eliot by the neck and flipped them, getting his own grinding in as the rolled. "It's Colonel now."

Eliot got his knee up between Casey's legs, pressing in against his cock. "Colonel, eh? You earn that with this?" He rocked into Casey, grinning when his eyes closed.

Casey pulled back when Eliot moved to get a better angle, his fist closing in Eliot's hair and dragging him to his feet. Casey yanked and shoved until Eliot's back was against a wall, then closed the distance, shoving his own knee into Eliot's cock. "I forgot, you like it rough." He pinned Eliot in place with his hips while pulling his head to the side to nip at his neck.

Eliot pulled his head away, hissing as teeth pinched skin tight enough to bruise. He brought his hands up to push Casey away, stopping when his fingers pressed into bare skin and opting instead to mark him too. He pinched hard just to the side of his nipples, twisting the flesh to make him yelp.

Jumping apart, they both backed off a step and circled. Eliot licked his lips and contemplated his next move. Casey adjusted his pants, the bulge in them big enough to be uncomfortable.

"You could just take them off." Eliot offered. "Make it easier for me."

"Yeah, you'd like that." He rubbed a hand over the bruises already forming on his chest.

"I'm gonna get there anyway." Eliot said, moving closer.

"Sounds like a challenge." Casey responded, hands coming up in a defensive position.

Eliot cocked his head. "First one of us to get inside the other's pants gets first penetration?"

Casey relaxed and looked at him. "Sounds fair."

Eliot grinned. "I hope you got lube."

"I'll bet you do."

They charged at one another with new determination. A flurry of punches kept them tight together in the center of the entryway, then Eliot landed a kick that sent Casey flying, crashing into the coffee table.

Eliot pounced, hands scrambling to get his opponent's belt open. Casey wriggled under him, concentrating on getting free. He rolled to the right, knocking Eliot to the side, but Eliot held the belt loop in his hand.

The sound of fabric tearing stopped them both for a heartbeat. Eliot looked down to find a good six inch tear in the front of Casey's khakis, right along the zipper, exposing his tight, white underwear with his cock poking out the side.

Eliot moved fast, shoving his hand in the hole, fingers delving in under the cotton to wrap around the thick cock, pulling once to emphasize his victory. Casey grunted, but didn't shove him away. Eliot pulled a little harder, getting Casey to growl at him. "You don't gotta pull it off."

"Your ass is mine." Eliot let go of his cock and grabbed at his pants. "Get out of these."

The table, or what was left of it, crunched under them as they shifted off of it and got up off the floor. Eliot unbuttoned his own jeans, suddenly even harder and ready to do more than hit Casey bloody. He half expected more fight, but Casey stood and let his pants drop, toeing off his shoes and stepping out of them.

"Couch? Bed?" Casey asked, moving in on Eliot when he didn't respond fast enough. He crowded Eliot right back into the wall. He grabbed Eliot's hair with both hands and pushed him, crushing their mouths together in a bruising, punishing kiss.

Rather than fighting back, Eliot just pushed at Casey's underwear, one hand sweeping over his hip, the other sliding down into the crack of his ass. His finger found the hole and pressed in, making Casey pull back. Casey ground their hips together, his cock dragging over Eliot's denim encased groin.

Eliot didn't relent, pushing in until the tip of his finger was inside him. "Lube?" Eliot asked harshly.

"Bedroom." Casey replied.

Eliot pulled his hand free and chased after Casey's mouth with his own. "If you want me to use it, you better get there before I do."

For a split second Casey stared at him, then decided he was serious and took off toward the bedroom, his underwear still clinging mid thigh. Eliot followed, grabbing at his hips as they neared the door, fingers digging into skin.

Casey hissed and grabbed the doorframe, dragging himself forward. Eliot lost his grip and Casey went flying into the bed, shoving the mattress off kilter as he scrambled to get to the nightstand.

Eliot unzipped and pulled his feet out of his shoes, dropping his jeans and stepping clear, but not before he'd pulled something out of the back pocket. He watched Casey with the lube, his own fingers slick and sliding into his ass because he knew Eliot wasn't going to do it.

He slid up to the side of the bed, keeping the handcuffs out of sight. "You ready?" Eliot's voice was dark and raspy and he didn't wait for an answer, holding his cock with one hand and the cuffs with the other.

Casey pulled away as Eliot's dick penetrated, but stilled almost immediately. Eliot shoved in and waited while Casey gasped and huffed. His hand came back to Eliot's hip, squeezing as he adjusted to the intrusion. Eliot grinned and used the moment to slap the first cuff on him.

"Oh hell no." Casey bolted forward, but Eliot had the advantage, following him to the mattress. He tried to pull the arm free, but Eliot just twisted it up onto his back.

"Easy Colonel…I wouldn't want to hurt you…much…more."

Casey kept the other hand well out of reach as Eliot moved his hips, pressing in on Casey's prostate incessantly. "Just returning the favor."

Casey made a sound not unlike a whimper as Eliot pulled up enough to let himself slam back into the colonel's ass. He rocked under Eliot, though whether it was trying to break free or trying to get off, Eliot wasn't sure.

"Fuck." Eliot wasn't really getting the best angle to do more than torment Casey's prostate. He pulled back on Casey's hips as he pulled back and nearly out, changing the angle enough that he could fuck up and in faster and better. Casey grunted and pushed back at him. "Like that?"

"You sound like a bad porno." Casey hissed over his shoulder. "Get on with it."

"Bossy little bottom." Eliot yanked on his arm, making him drop his head forward for a minute.

"Ain't no bottom." Casey growled, bucking up suddenly and knocking Eliot loose. Eliot tried to get his feet under him, but suddenly the floor was tilting and he went crashing backward. Casey was on him instantly, his hands slick and wet with lube. He shoved Eliot's legs apart and grabbed his cock. "You think I was just gonna take it?"

Eliot grinned, but lost it in a hiss of pleasure/pain as Casey yanked on his cock. "Didn't think you were that easy."

"Now who sounds like a bad porno?" Eliot gasped, his head ringing from the impact with the floor. He got a finger in the dangling handcuff and pulled Casey off balance. His knee sank into Casey's thigh as they struggled for dominance again and Casey bit down on his shoulder in retribution.

They slammed into the nightstand and suddenly Eliot could feel something wet and a little cold. The bottle of lube was tipped over and drizzling over his shoulder, slicking his chest. He elbowed Casey across the face and flipped over backwards, along the bed, dropping Casey into the path of the slick.

The bottle fell, sliding down Casey's chest, spilling over sweaty skin as Eliot got himself turned around and Casey climbed to his feet, charging at Eliot with his cock bouncing. He got one sticky hand in Eliot's hair and yanked him closer, pulling a sound out of Eliot that he wasn't going to admit to, his cock glazing over Eliot's lips. "I ain't all that picky…but I'm the one with leverage here, open up."

Eliot pulled back, but the hand in his hair just pulled tighter. It wasn't that he objected to sucking cock, just that, he was supposed to be the one on top. He put his hands on Casey's hips, but they just slide off all coated with lube.

Well, Eliot knew how to play this game too. He opened his mouth, sucking Casey in until he had the big man's cock almost fully in his mouth. He pulled off and let Casey shove himself back in a few times before he sucked him all the way in and closed not just his lips over the cock, but his teeth too. He clamped down, not enough to hurt him…well, maybe a little hurt. It was enough to make the man freeze though.

"Oh, now that just ain't fair." Casey said.

Eliot tightened his grip and Casey pulled his hand loose. He looked up, then at the bed, relaying his message with his eyes. Casey nodded once and took a tiny step back. Eliot followed on his knees. Slowly they moved until Casey's knees were against the mattress. Eliot got one foot on the floor and pulled his mouth off, shoving Casey to the bed and straddling over him fast, yanking the hand with the cuff up to the headboard and securing him fast to the wrought iron railing.

While Casey pulled on the cuff, Eliot wasted little time spreading him open and shoving inside him. He worked up to a blistering pace, yelling out as he finally came to his orgasm, dumping come onto the bed as he pulled out.

"Fucking bastard." Casey was pulling on the cuff in earnest now as Eliot slid off the bed, smiling amid the sweat and come and lube that was everywhere.

"I think I'll have that beer now." Eliot said with a low twang in his voice. "Want one?"

"I want something." Casey roared after him as he headed down the hall toward the kitchen. He checked behind him to make sure Casey wasn't free yet and ducked into the room where the colonel had disappeared before. A quick glance showed him that if Casey had the files, they would be here.

He could be coy and try to figure it out, even call Hardison. Or he could be Eliot Spencer and just take what he needed. He settled on the laptop on the desk, figuring that Casey was just vain enough to think his apartment was secure enough to keep something that was this hot. He grabbed it and took it out to where his messenger bag lay under his shirt, shoving the laptop in before heading to the fridge.

He popped the top on the beer and swallowed down half of it. Maybe Casey was getting soft. Of course, that was when the bottle shattered, adding beer to the mix of liquids covering his body. Glass sprayed the floor and the counter behind him.

Eliot looked up at Casey and the gun. The cuffs dangled from his fingers and his grin was fierce. "I was going to bring you one." Eliot said.

"You left me with a little problem." Casey sneered.

Eliot raised an eyebrow. "You know I don't like guns. You think it's going to get you what you want?"

"Got your attention, didn't it?"

Eliot snorted and stepped carefully away from the broken glass. "I can think of better ways to get my attention."

Casey tossed the gun aside. "Maybe I just like the sound."

"I can think of better sounds." Eliot countered, moving in closer. "Like the one I made when I fucked your ass."

"How about the one you made when dropped you to your knees?"

Eliot grinned. "Yeah, I kinda liked how that one turned out."

Casey growled and they both grabbed at each other, but the lube had them slippery and actually getting a hold of one another proved difficult. Casey swept his knee and Eliot went down on the tile floor, yelling as a piece of glass cut into his shoulder.

They grappled and tried to move away from the glass, but the tile floor was slick now with lube and beer and mostly they just slid around while alternating between trying to land a few blows and Casey trying to pin Eliot under him long enough to fuck him.

Eliot felt something in his leg twinge as Casey wrenched it out and away, opening Eliot up. His knee screamed agony and Eliot roared as he used his other foot on the side of Casey's face, shoving it into the floor hard enough to leave bruises along his cheekbone.

He rolled, finding purchase as his hand found carpet and he got up onto his feet, but Casey was behind him and suddenly they were careening toward the back of the couch, Casey's hands on his hip and shoulder as they reached it. Casey's grip tightened and pressed Eliot forward, lifting his feet just off the ground and giving Casey the perfect angle to shove himself into Eliot's unprepped ass.

"Good thing I got lube." Casey growled in his ear as his well lubricated cock slid up Eliot's ass crack and pressed in. Eliot bucked, but he was pinned well, with no purchase on the floor under his feet or the couch he was leaning over. He yelled into the cushions as Casey fucked him deep and hard, grunting with every stroke.

It didn't take long and he was coming, pulling out. Eliot shoved back, and the couch came with him, knocking them both to the floor.

They lay panting for a few minutes.

"I call round one a draw." Casey said after a few minutes.

Eliot nodded. "Okay, I'll give you that. Round two?"

Casey panted and lifted his head off the floor. "Shower?"

Eliot rubbed at his knee and nodded. "Agreed."

"My house, I go first." Casey sat up. "And I cuff you so you can't rummage through my stuff."

"Why don't we just do it together." Eliot countered. "So no one needs the cuffs. I wouldn't want to ruin another pair."

Casey seemed to consider it. "Okay, deal." He got up and reached a hand down to help Eliot up. "I think you dislocated my shoulder."

"I think you tore up my knee." Eliot limped beside him toward the bathroom.

Casey stopped beside a telephone. "Chinese?"

Eliot nodded and went to start the shower while Casey called in an order. "As long as you're gonna let me eat it and not shoot it out of my hands."

"I might…if you're a good boy."

They climbed into the shower as the hot water flowed, washing away the evidence of round one…well the lube and come and beer anyway. The bruises were just starting to show up.

"It ain't on the laptop." Casey said as they switched places.

"Don't know what you're talking about. I don't do tech."

"You do jobs. What came to retrieve, it ain't there."

"What would you know about it?"

"After our last little run in, I did my homework. Eliot Spencer, hitter, retrieval specialist…occasional muscle man for the government."

Eliot kissed him harshly, shoving him into the wall. "Not a word you're saying is making any sense."

"Fine, have it your way. But this is one I can't let you walk away with."

Eliot snorted. "I didn't walk away the last time."

Casey smirked. "No, it was more like a limping crawl."

Eliot was the first to step out, Casey not far behind him. They both wrapped towels around themselves and headed back to the living room. They put the couch back on it's feet and Casey went to get beer.

Eliot's eyes narrowed as he felt like he was being watched. He turned toward the window. "You got a peeping Tom."

Casey growled. "More like a peeping Chuck." He wrenched the door open and stepped out. Eliot could hear his voice, but not what he said. Then he heard. "Pay the man."

When Casey came back he had a bag filled with Chinese take out. "Nosy neighbors."

They sat down to eat, the apartment quiet. "This is good." Eliot set the half empty box of chow mein aside.

"Best in town."

Eliot watched him with the Kung Pao. "You know that's a weapon that should never be built."

Casey looked him in the eye. "Not my call."

"It could be."

Casey put down his container, maintaining eye contact. "Didn't figure you for a bleeding heart."

Eliot shook his head. "Not. Getting paid to do a job."

"This part of the job?" Casey asked, gesturing at their nakedness.

Eliot smirked. "Sometimes." He brushed his hands together. "Round two?"



It was dawn…or something close to it. Vague gray light filtered in under the blinds. Eliot lifted his head, licking at very dry and swollen lips. The lower lip was cracked and tasted of blood.

The room was a mess. The bed was actually broken, between Casey breaking the headboard to get loose and the rather violent throes of round two…and three…they'd managed to decimate the thing.

Eliot extricated his legs from the bizarre pattern of limbs that was half on the floor and half on the box springs and eased himself to something resembling upright. Casey snorted and rolled over, covering his head with the corner of the blanket that wasn't covered in blood, come or vegetable oil.

He limped toward the bathroom to assess the damage…but one he got a look in the mirror he decided to skip it and just get the hell out of there. He peed and flushed, lifting his right hand to find one half of the handcuffs circling his wrist. He chuckled as he shuffled through the apartment, picking up his clothes…jeans and shoes in the bedroom, though he had to fish them out of what was left of the bedding…shirt by the front door with his bag.

He dressed in the living room, slowly. Each injury making itself known as he pushed his protesting body into clothes. He was breathing heavy as he picked up his bag, fishing out the handcuff key he'd dropped in there just in case.

Eliot got the cuff off and settled the bag over his shoulders.

Casey was probably telling him the truth about the laptop. Eliot limped into the kitchen and put the laptop on the counter, the one half of the cuffs on top of that. He scribbled a note and left it there with the rest, then pulled one last thing out of the bag.

He wasn't any hacker, not by a long shot. But he had one of the world's best on his team. He put the device on the only surviving table in the living room, moving it until it was in the center of the apartment more or less.

Eliot licked his lip again and pressed the button. By the time Casey woke up, dealt with his own injuries and stumbled out of the bedroom, every electronic device in his apartment should be good and fried.

He slipped on a pair of sunglasses to hide the spectacularly bruised eye and chuckled. Man wouldn't even be able to make coffee.

He let himself out the front door, moving stiffly. The geek with the white shirt and tie eyed him suspiciously. Eliot just kept moving.

When he reached his car he pulled his phone out of the glove box, dialing Nate. "It's done."

He started the car and headed for the office. He was going to need help bandaging some of this shit. Besides he kinda wanted to make a point. Hardison needed to see exactly why he was grateful Eliot had pulled his ass out of there.

Nate was the one that met him at the door and when they got to Eliot's office, Nate had the whole first aid kit spread out on the desk. "You look like shit."

"Feel pretty good though."

"Anything broken?"

"Thumb." Eliot held up his left hand with its swollen thumb that was purple and red. "Knee's pretty busted up."

"Your everything is pretty busted up." Nate said with a sigh.

"It's what I do." Eliot shook his head. "I've had worse."

"Why do I get the feeling that this time it was on purpose?" Nate asked, his fingers feeling over the cut on Eliot's shoulder after he'd stripped off the shirt.

"Just a little need for something physical." Eliot looked up at Hardison who was in the doorway now. "You know, blow off some steam with someone who's an equal."

Hardison's eyes were big, but he didn't say anything, just turned and walked away. "You let our client know the files were destroyed?"

Nate nodded and taped down bandages. "We've got some down time while we look for our next job."

"Good. I have a little unfinished business to deal with."



"Now, why you didn't tell me we were coming to a Buy More?" Hardison asked as Eliot pulled them to a stop. "And why we have to drive all the way out here to do it. There's one three blocks from the office."

"Shut up Hardison." Eliot got out of the car. "And stay here. I'm only gonna be a minute."

"Oh, nuh uh. I love me some Buy More. I'm coming in. I need to pick up some more security cameras, you know the obvious ones…and I heard they were getting in the new plasma screens."

Eliot shook his head and kept walking. The limp was mostly gone, though he was keeping the knee in a brace most of the time. He face was still dusky with bruises and his thumb was still in a splint, but nearly a week had passed.

He stopped just inside the doors, his eyes picking out the geeky neighbor kid at the Nerd Herd desk, then skimming off to pick out the green shirts. Casey spotted him at about the same time Eliot spotted Casey and they moved toward one another casually.

"Can I help you find something?" Casey asked, a forced smile on his face.

"Nah, just came to return these." Eliot responded, keeping the cuffs hidden in his hand as he reached across. He put them on Casey's palm with a grin. "See that you don't break this pair."

Casey snorted. "Me? As I recall it was you that broke the last two."

The geeky kid was suddenly next to them. "Everything okay, Casey?" He seemed overly nervous, his eyes darting around them.

"I don't know, is everything okay Spencer?" Casey asked.

"Nothing a little something physical won't fix." Eliot responded. He glanced over his shoulder at Hardison in the aisle behind him. "But I don't have time for that just now. I have to see about getting my geek out of here. I'll see you around, Casey."

"You can count on it."

"Come on Hardison." Eliot walked past him, got all the way to the door, then came back, grabbing Hardison by the back of his shirt. "You see that man right there?" He turned Hardison's head. "That's the guy."

"The guy?" Hardison turned to look at him, then his eyes got big. "The guy. You mean the guy that kicked the shit out of you."

"No, he's the guy that tried. We called it a draw. He's NSA. You know, the NSA that you hacked a week ago?"

Hardison nodded. "I'm thinking we should go."

"Good thinking."

They headed for the door, Eliot pausing there for just one last look. He was betting he hadn't seen the end of Lt. Colonel John Casey…he just hoped he was fully healed before they figured out where and when to start round four.