The Patience Job: Eliot x Reader

The Patience Job

The job hadn't been anything to write home about, basically a smash and grab. Something had gone wrong at the pivotal moment though and it had almost been you that was both smashed and grabbed by the mark's security goons.

"Ex-mafia. Russian." Eliot had said that after watching a three second clip on the big screen from his spot in the corner while the team was running the pre-con intel session.

Of course, you had smirked and taken a friendly jab at him. "Let me guess, very distinctive haircuts?"

He cut a glance in your direction, eyebrows still down, not kidding. "No, it's the tattoo on that guy's neck. And the way that one used the knife."

"So, it would be best if we could just avoid them as much as possible." Nate interjected and that had been the end of it, the team moved on with the plan.

It turned out that avoiding them was easier said than done and for about 30 seconds one of them had you by the arm with that wicked knife pressed to the side of your face while Sophie tried to stay both calm and in character.

You hadn't said anything out loud but that was purely from fear that the goon would retaliate with his blade if you made any noise. Inside your head had been a repetitive but effective plea, almost a prayer. 'Eliot, please, Eliot, please, Eliot, please.'

There was no way he could have heard you, but in your earbud, you heard him whisper, "I'm coming, when I say, drop to dead weight and stay down."

You couldn't see him and had no way of knowing if he could see you, so you locked eyes with Sophie and nodded, disguising it as a fearful shudder.

"She's good," Sophie murmured and though she was too far away for the goon to hear, it was crisp and clean in your left ear, just like always. After this was over you were going to buy Hardison all the orange soda he could drink. Within what must have been a few seconds, but somehow felt like hours, you heard another hoarse whisper in your earbud.

"Incoming, drop now!"

And you let your knees give out and crumpled to the floor. Your captor wasn't prepared for that and since he had a death grip on your upper arm, for a moment you were hanging from his grip, then something ran full force into him, and he released you. The sounds moved from above you to surprisingly far to your right, but you didn't dare try to move or open your eyes. Instead, you curled into a tight ball and tucked your head down waiting for the noise to stop.

It wasn't long.

"Hey," Eliot's voice wasn't from the earpiece this time, and a surprisingly gentle touch to your side had you uncurling hesitantly. "You ok?" he asked when you got your bearings and found he was kneeling next to you, his eyes were whizzing all over, looking for signs of injury.

"I think so," you sat up a little too fast and your head spun and instinctively you reached out for something to steady against, your hand found another, larger and calloused but warm and solid.

"Come on, we have to get out of here," Sophie's soft accent came from your other side. "Can you walk?" she asked and with a brisk nod you pulled up on her offered hand and Eliot's and the three of you hurried back to the meeting point.

A few hours later, the job was done, the client tearfully thanked you all and then the team retreated to their corners of the pub. Nate and Sophie headed upstairs first with a cheerful wave and Hardison and Parker claimed a booth in the back corner where they sat, heads bent over something on Hardison's laptop.

You had claimed a barstool early on in the celebrations while still high on adrenaline from both the rush of finishing the job and being briefly held hostage. That wore off quickly and you had discovered a shallow but relatively long cut in your arm that must have happened when you dropped, and the goon moved to catch you with the knife still in his hand. It stopped bleeding over an hour ago and didn't even look like it would scar.