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storypaint ([personal profile] storypaint) wrote2015-02-23 01:00 pm

[Leverage] all the nothing you want (Nate/Sophie)

Title: all the nothing you want
Fandom: Leverage
Length: 333 words
Prompt: comment_fic: Leverage, Nate/Sophie, Empty nest syndrome
Pairing: Nate/Sophie
Other: Set post-canon.

Excerpt: "Concerned? Parker can handle it. She's going to be better than me in a couple years," he says, and she can hear the pride that he tries to hide in his voice.

It takes them almost two weeks to get bored. It takes another couple of days for them to figure out the source of the dissatisfied feeling. Sophie lays on the bed in their beautiful Paris hotel and sighs heavily. She is surrounded by clothes that Nate insisted she buy legally (with their dirty money, she doesn't understand his principles sometimes). They are enjoying the first peace and quiet they have had in months, after the whirlwind wedding and European tour of a honeymoon. They have been wandering through the Louvre without planning to take anything off the walls, and Nate actually carried her over the threshold the first night they were here. It should be perfect.

"How do you think they're doing?" Sophie asks.

Nate is half-heartedly watching TV, playing Jeopardy in French and winning, even though he isn't great with tenses. "Who?" he says, even though she knows he knows who she means.

She sighs and takes the bait. "Parker, Hardison, and Eliot, of course!"

He flips the channel over. "I don't see anything on the news, I'd say that's a good sign."

"Don't pretend like you aren't concerned," Sophie says, pouting, and Nate waves his hand dismissively.

"Concerned? Parker can handle it. She's going to be better than me in a couple years," he says, and she can hear the pride that he tries to hide in his voice.

"She's nearly there already," Sophie says, just to rile him, and they have the kind of pleasant, lazy argument that often seems to occur on Sunday afternoons. It ends predictably in pleasant, lazy sex, and when they're done, Nate curls up around her and rests his head on her shoulder. She can tell he's drifting off to sleep.

He yawns. "We can call them later," he says. "It's only six a.m. in Portland right now, they're asleep or haven't made it to bed yet."

"If you want," Sophie says, smiling, and she lets herself doze off into pleasant dreams.

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