Work Text:
Pinned
by Sam-Tony
They were all here, together; three thieves and a slightly dishonest man and not one of them had any reason to be…unless…
Nate cursed and took off running, knowing (hoping) the other three had the common sense to follow. There was only one reason for Dubenich to deny he had gotten the merchandise and demand they all meet, and that was to get rid of any loose ends. Unfortunately, they were the loose ends.
The first up the short flight of stairs, Nate hit the button for the door, turning back to make sure the others got through. He cursed as Hardison tripped over the landing, the hacker in too big a hurry to clear that last step; blinked as Eliot hauled the larger body up off the concrete floor, all but throwing him out the door as Nate waited.
A glance back at the main body of the deserted warehouse and Nate’s eyes widened, his attention caught by the unfolding bloom of the explosion that painted his vision orange as the warehouse crashed down around him…
--
One blink and then two and he figured he had passed out at some point for time to pass as the next he saw through the smoke was Eliot leaning over him, hair falling down around his face, blue eyes worried when Nate tried to talk, tried to move and couldn’t. His body felt heavy, pressed downed to the floor and there was a ringing in his ears…but more importantly, he found he couldn’t move his legs…
--
Another short break of darkness and Nate opened his eyes to find Eliot still there, cursing as he tugged and failed to move the steel support beam that had fallen at an angle, pinning his legs under it. Good thing it hadn’t fallen flat or Nate would have been crushed…good thing Eliot had come back or the fire would have gotten him. Still might because there was no way Eliot was going to be able to move that beam without a crane…though the sight of the muscles bunching with the effort was rather nice for something that was most likely going to be the last thing he saw before he died a slow, agonizingly painful death…
…and that Nate didn’t remember him being that big when he chased him in France all those years ago…
Funny the thoughts that ran through one’s head while trapped in a burning warehouse, pinned under a thousand pounds of metal.
He tried to tell him to go - to run, get out while he could. All that came out was a croak, snapping the younger man’s attention back to him…and that was when Nate saw the fangs…and that Eliot’s eyes had changed from sky blue to gold…
Before he could be sure what he saw wasn’t just the lack of oxygen or an effect of the smoke, Eliot gave a fierce tug and Nate was free. The last thing he felt was being lifted easily in incredibly strong arms and the sensation of motion - of being carried…and suddenly the air was fresher and he could take a deeper breath…
It was then his mind decided it had had enough and he passed out.
--
Opening his eyes the next time sent a jumble of images scrambling around in his head - the look on all of their faces as they realized they were in danger, that the warehouse was probably wired…Hardison falling…Eliot dragging him up and through the door…which led to images of golden eyes and strong arms…and fangs…
Blinking once or twice, Nate frowned at the face he remembered leaning over him once before (or had that just been a dream?), Eliot’s blue (what happened to the gold?) eyes smiling down on him in relief and concern as the long hair framed his face.
“You alright?”
His voice came out as a rough croak, Nate coughing with the smoke still in his lungs, having to try again before anything actually made it past the sandpaper in his throat. “E - Eliot?”
“C’mon.” Eliot looked up, out toward what was probably the door, and it was then Nate realized they were still inside what was left of the warehouse. “We gotta go. Think you can walk?”
“Yeah.” Nate blinked again and tried to sit up, allowing Eliot to help him to his feet. “Yeah, we should get out of here.”
Navigating a relatively clear patch of floor, Nate spared the younger man a look, unable to decide if he should broach the subject of what he thought he saw or just stay silent and forever wonder. But after they left the warehouse, he doubted they would ever see each other again, and there went his opportunity for answers. To so many different questions…
“What?” Eliot huffed, clearly torn between annoyance and something else. “And put your arm around me, here…”
Nate threw an arm over the strong shoulder obediently, allowing Eliot to take a bit of his weight as the building started to spin. Concussion then. “So, do I call you Dracula? Or what?”
Freezing for a moment, but only for a moment, Eliot laughed, placing one arm around his waist, the other holding onto his wrist and maneuvering them around the chunks of debris. Shaking his head, Nate saw there was amusement in the eyes that flashed gold before once more settling into the cheerful blue as Eliot replied, “Only if you want to make me feel old.”
End