Fandom: Leverage/Inception crossover
Characters: Leverage ensemble, Eames, Arthur
A/N: This is a fan fic exorcism. Because I am not writing Inception fics.
It starts, as you could probably guess, with Nate saying: “We’re going to steal ourselves a dream.”
(It starts earlier than that, really, at a table at McRory’s, and a tear-stricken young woman, and a tale of stolen ideas and her father dying in poverty while his invention is changing the world. Hardison knows all about copyright and fair use, and this is greatly unfair.)
“A dream?” Sophie shakes her head, her new hairdo bobbing around her. “Aren’t we overly ambitious?”
“It’s easier than you’d think,” Eliot says. His tone is gravelly. Like Batman’s.
Exctraction is one of those things you don’t know about unless you know about it. It’s an urban myth, a tall tale, you’ve heard about it, sure, but who the heck would actually try and pull it off? The tech is like something out of a sci-fi flick.
If there is a sci-fi flick like that, Hardison will be all over it. The potential for fan fiction alone is mesmerising.
“I stole an idea once,” Parker says, and there’s a curious twitch to her smile, like she’s screwing with their heads. Except she probably isn’t, it’s Parker. “Didn’t like it. Put it back in.”
Four days in, they hit a first major snag. Hardison hates this moment. It’s like every damn House episode, when, thirty minutes in, the patient starts deteriorating.
“We’re gonna steal ourselves a forger,” Nate announces.
Hardison would facepalm, but he’s busy typing. He’s writing his last will and testament, you see.
He has an impressive collection of action figures to distribute justly.
Eames and Eliot get on like a house on fire, in between threatening each other (Eliot) and calling each other pet names (guess. No, really, Hardison dares you to guess.).
Hardison wants to go back to the reality. And if that’s him saying this...
“That’s... very impressive, Parker.” Nate has this tone of voice that, depending on which month it is, means he’s either contemplating giving up drinking, or contemplating picking up drinking again.
Parker turns out to be surprisingly apt with designing the dreams. The only problem is, it’s really damn hard to get into any of her buildings if you can’t climb solid mirror surfaces.
“You’re something else, love,” Eames says, impressed.
She doesn’t stab him with a fork, but it’s a close call.
At some point (the time fuckery of the level two has been annoying Hardison something fierce. He feels like it’s the time to torrent the new True Blood, but it’s still days away. What the frell.) Nate says: “We’re going to steal ourselves a...”
“I know a guy,” Eames interrupts him. They’re all silent for a long moment and the Parker pokes him.
“Don’t do that.”
“You need a point man on this one, and I really know a guy, sweetheart.”
“No, don’t interrupt Nate. He says what we’re going to steal, and then we look at each other like he’s crazy, and then we do it.”
“You know, I used to work with a bloke whose projection of a dead wife tried to drag him down to the limbo to play house with her.”
“And that was less strange than your little merry band of thieves.”
“We’re not...” Nate starts and then remembers that he’s out of the closet now.
Hardison doesn’t even.
Sophie wants to adopt Arthur. Or maybe tie him to the bed with his ties.
It’s the suits, Hardison’s sure.
Parker becomes way too interested in the concept of totems. “They would be so fun to steal.”
On their fifth day back on the level two, projections start to run away at the mere sight of Eliot.
Hardison should have seen it all coming.