Author's Note: Ok, so this was just a short little thing that I wrote for a friend of mine whose birthday is today - happy B-day siriusdoctorwhohoney! Luv yah! Hope that you like it. She asked for Eliot and Hardison, and I couldn't resist.

Also, I'm on LiveJournal and twitter as kausingkayn.

Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage - however, I do own every single piece of Leverage merchandise known to fans. Blame con-con.

Eliot and Hardison sat in John McRory's, nursing a beer each. The hitter was on his second, while the hacker was slowly whittling away on his first, his eyes more focused on the PDA in his hands than the alcohol sitting in front of him. Eliot watched the geek with a look of boredom on his face – he was ashamed that he had nothing better to do. The team was between cons, and Eliot had been unable to pick up any side jobs as of late. He wondered if an old flame was spreading bad news around about him.

But still, it was sad that he was sitting here with Hardison in a bar, and not talking about…well, guy stuff. Why else do you go to a bar with a guy unless you are gay? Don't answer that.

Anyway, Eliot was halfway to the point where he was just going to get up and leave, damn the consequences, when he felt like someone was looking at him. Paranoia kicking in, the hitter immediately scanned the room in a discreet way. Finally, he found the target.

She was sitting at the bar, her back slightly toward them, but not at an angle where it would be awkward to stare. She had a glass of whiskey, and Eliot would bet that it was Jack – a woman after his own heart. She was a decent looker too, but that wasn't what drew Eliot to her.

It was the fact that she was staring at Hardison.

Actually, it was the fact that she was staring at Hardison when he was sitting at the exact same table.

Eliot thought about going and intercepting her before she managed to talk to Hardison, but then a crueler thought popped into his mind. He still hadn't gotten the geek back for interrupting him at the rehab center last year, and his truck still smelled like damn slushy.

"Hey, man." Eliot said, jarring Hardison from his world of technology. "That chick over there's been starin' at ya all night. Gonna do somethin' bout it?"

Hardison glanced over and not-so-subtly looked her over. Liking what he saw, he turned back to the hitter, a grin on his face. "Seriously?"

Eliot nodded, then nudged him under the table with his foot. "Go, I'll jump in if ya need savin'."

Hardison paused, narrowing his eyes. What was the hitter getting at? There had to be some kind of ulterior motive. However, he was a little surprised at the fact that some girl in a bar was into him. That only ever happened in movies – and to men with country accents and extremely good-looking hair.

The hacker shut off his PDA and stood, slipping it into his pocket. Then, he made the approach. He tried to be cool, sliding into the barstool net to her. However, he overshot, and ended up bumping into her. "Sorry." He stuttered.

The girl just laughed and helped him back onto his feet. "S'okay."

Hardison grinned for a moment. "I'm Alec, by the way. Say you sittin' over here all lonely, and thought you could use some company."

She giggled a bit, then outstretched a hand. "Caitlin. And thank you."

Hardison shook her hand, then motioned for the bartender for another beer. The man, knowing both Hardison and Eliot, rolled his eyes before nodding. The hacker turned back to the girl, all the lessons he learned knocking on doors coming back into his head. He was good with coming up with lies and smooth talking while on cons – he was quite good at it. But when it came to real life, he wasn't all that smooth. However, the bar had cameras, and Eliot frequented the place enough for Hardison to pick up some pointers.

"I haven't seen you here before." He said. "Vacation or move?"

"Neither." She replied with a smile. "I'm a Boston resident, been so for a while. You?"

He shrugged. "Same." Lie. They had only been in Boston for a couple months. Still, she didn't need to know, and lying came easier than the truth some times.

They hit it off, chatting for twenty more minutes before Hardison finally mustered up enough courage to ask for her phone number. She was pulling pen and paper out of her purse when he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eyes.

Eliot.

What was the man doing? Hardison was doing just fine, and the man decided to join them. What happened to helping him in case of trouble? The only trouble he was getting into was the good kind.

"Hey there darlin'." Eliot said, sliding up to the bar, right next to Hardison. The hitter slung him arm around the hacker and pulled him close – too close for it to be considered friendly. Caitlin noticed this and paused.

"Now, who is this cute thing? If I didn't know any better, I'd be jealous." Eliot was playing into it, even adding a slight lisp to his country accent. He ran his hand through his hair before outstretching his hand. "Nice ta meet ya, ma'am."

Caitlin stuttered a bit, trying to get some words out. Then, she finally held out her hand, hesitantly shaking Eliot's. The hitter let out a soft laugh, then turned to Hardison. "You go ahead an finish this up, sweetheart. I'll be upstairs."

Eliot gave Caitlin a wink, then grabbed the rest of Hardison's beer and made his exit.

The hacker himself sat there, red in the face and unable to come up with some sort of viable explanation that wouldn't leave him with a slap in the face. Caitlin stared at him for a moment before pouting. "Figures." She huffed.

The then stood up and turned, going to leave. Hardison called out, but she just kept walking, straight through the doors. He sighed, then turned toward the bar, only to find the bartender fighting back a big laugh. It was never a dull moment when those two were in his bar, that much could be said.

"Shut up, Steve." Hardison mumbled.