#nana leverage

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two1 0th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One (you're here!)

This fic was line jumped! If you'd like to learn more about line jumping (getting to see your favorite fics updated sooner) you can read this post

I had a lot of thoughts for this AU, actually, so I'm really glad it got line jumped so I was forced to put them down into words lol

Steve becomes one of Nana's foster kids, but he spends a majority of this series with the Leverage crew working a job (as the name of this series suggests), and they fill similarly parental role.

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

----

After his father's arrest, everything is a blur. Steve can remember flashes, sure, but nothing concrete. Nothing more than two FBI agents in the door of his classroom, the cold steel of interrogation room chairs, an agent's ponytail with split ends, a kind smile but clammy hand on his elbow, the broken A/C of the car when he finally left the FBI office, and the slippery feel of the garbage bag he's given to pack 14 years of a life he'll never see again.

Nothing comes back into focus until he's faced with an older black woman, standing outside a two-story house. The man with a kind smile but clammy hands introduces her, but Steve doesn't actually hear the name.

"You can call me Nana," the woman says, looking at the man like she doesn't know why he's still there when his work is obviously done.

"Well, uh, Steve, feel free to call if you need anything. We'll keep in touch," the man says, nodding before half-running down the walk way.

"Never liked him," Nana says, clicking her tongue. "Too damn squirrely for my tastes. Now, Steve, come inside and we'll go over some ground rules."

Steve follows her mechanically, gripping his trash bag tightly and wondering far too late why he wasn't allowed to pack his own suitcases. The house is a cacophony of noises: feet running across wood floors, a TV blaring from the living room, shouts coming from every direction, a microwave beeping while the oven timer rings, a crash from the next room over that makes Steve wince.

Nana stands in the doorway, takes a deep breath, and then shouts at the top of her lungs, "Y'all had better stop all this racket right the fuck now before I cancel pizza night!"

The house goes silent, and Steve feels his shoulders tense even more. He hates the silence. Silence means anger, and anger means punishment. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep himself small as Nana nods and leads the way into a dining room.

A girl appears in the room shortly after, carrying a mug and a soda. She places the mug in front of Nana and the soda in front of an empty seat, gesturing for Steve to sit. "Welcome. I can take your bag, if you want," she offers, looking at the trash bag with bright eyes.

"Don't make trouble, Breanna," Nana says, dismissing her easily.

Steve watches her leave before sitting. He licks his lips, opens the soda as quietly as he can manage, and waits for Nana to take a sip from her mug before saying, "Thank you for taking me in, ma'am."

"I said to call me Nana, none of that ma'am business unless you're in trouble, and you're not in trouble," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Now, the rules. No complaining about sharing a room. No TV remote access after seven because that's when my shows start. We all eat dinner together on Wednesday night. You go to school every day unless you're sick, and you tell me when you're feeling sick. You got all that?"

"Yes, m....Nana."

"Good. Now, I know you're used to a fancier living than this, but I expect you to adjust without too much complaint. You still get your own bed, and whatever you brought is yours to keep, but money is tight. We save where we can, and I expect you to help with that. Turn off lights, use less water, unplug things when you're not using them."

Steve nods again, inexplicably feeling a little better as Nana speaks. She's not treating him like a spoiled brat, but she's not coddling him, either. She gets another boy (an older one named Hardison) to give him a tour of the house. He shows Steve the mezzuzahs on each door and the Kaaba directional marker in each room---"We're a multi-denominational household, kid, Nana will get whatever you need if she doesn't have it already," Hardison says, grinning widely at him---and makes sure he knows which spots are good for hiding when he needs a few minutes.

He ends the tour at Steve's new room. It has two bunk-beds, three of the bunks with rumpled sheets and one bottom bunk devoid of sheets altogether. Hardison gives Steve blue sheets, welcomes him, and then leaves Steve to unpack by himself.

It's new, it's unfamiliar, it's terrifying. Steve hopes, despite himself, that it's not a temporary stop.

----

"I don't care! He can't stay!"

"We're already in London, Hardison. We can hardly send him back on a plane by himself."

"Isn't that how he got here in the first place? He's 17, not seven."

Steve moves his gaze from Hardison to Sophie to Eliot, feeling like he's watching a tennis match. He's sandwiched between Nate and Parker, a hand on his shoulder holding him back from trying to defend himself. Not that he's upset about it. Keeping everyone from turning their frustration on him sounds like a great idea.

"Yeah, and how did he get here?" Parker asks, dashing Steve's hopes right as they're forming.

He shifts uncomfortably as everyone looks at him, ducking his head and staring at the floor. A small part of him is frustrated, angrily protesting the familiar move when its usual target has long been absent.

"Hey, give him some room," Hardison says, moving forward to push Nate and Parker back a few steps. He stands at an angle to Steve, leaving him plenty of room to move away if he wants. "Nobody's angry, kid. Well, I'm a little mad, but only because you could be putting yourself in danger. So, how'd you catch up to us?"

Steve wonders for a brief moment about whose wrath he'd rather endure. In the end, he decides Breanna is scarier than Hardison, so he lies. "Nana and I overheard you on the phone with Parker at Hannukah dinner, and then Nana said she gets worried about you sometimes," he says, meeting Hardison's eyes before glancing away. He makes himself small again, but it's on purpose this time, broadcasting shame as he adds, "I still have, um, access to my savings account...from my....from them. Enough for a plane ticket and cab ride, at least."

"Aww, Nana worries about us," Parker says, smiling brightly as she nudges Eliot with her elbow. "That's sweet."

"If it weren't a lie," Sophie says, her lips pursed and her eyebrows raised slightly as she walks closer to Steve. She taps his shoulder, his temple, and his hand. "Lowered head but not as low as before. Shoulders drawn in but tense to hold them there. Fingers twitching just slightly. Impressive, I will admit, but I'm a professional, darling."

Steve sighs and lifts his head, his shoulders relaxing some as he frowns. "You didn't have to call me out on it," he mumbles.

"Breanna got you here, didn't she? Ain't no way you'd lie to protect anyone else."

"She could ruin me, Hardison."

"I can ruin you, too, did you forget about that?"

Steve considers him for a moment before shrugging.

"Well," Nate says, clapping his hands together and pulling everyone's attention to him. "Steve is here now, we might as well use him. Sophie, give him an Italian accent and some suede shoes."

"I can already speak Italian," Steve says, "and I have my own suede shoes to match a Cesare Attolini suit." He feels something like guilt twinge in his stomach when Hardison glances at him. Steve's mother may have forfeited custody of him, but she still sends gifts every now and then. Steve usually sells them, slips the cash into drawers and wallets and couch cushions so they can be discovered by Nana and his foster siblings.

The suit and shoes, though? Steve couldn't bring himself to sell them. If there was one thing he missed about life before Nana's foster home, it was the clothes. It was the way his clothes made him feel like a better version of himself, a version everyone would admire and approve of. So, yeah, he'd kept the clothes and shoes his mother sent him two months ago, and he'd packed them for this trip just because.

He'd glad they seem to be coming in handy.

After processing his words, Nate blinks, a smile growing on his face like he's discovered a treasure he won't be letting go of any time soon.

----

Tag List

I kept wondering why Parker cared so much about nanas in particular since she had no safe adults as a child.

But she has a family now, including Hardison’s Nana.

By bydaybreak

On Archive of Our Own

Status: Complete; Oneshot; 9,536 words

Summary: The woman laughs, her eyes crinkling behind her silver cat-eye glasses. "You must be Eliot,” she says, cheerfully. “He warned me you were charming. Where is he?” Eliot’s stomach drops as he realizes that this is a terrible fucking mistake, because this ain’t a random elderly woman showing up to collect cans or take up donations or whatever it is that elderly woman in weird fucking places like Portland do. This is Hardison’s nana, and Eliot has just opened the door to the apartment—to Hardison and Parker’s apartment—like he lives there.

Nana loves all of the crew when she meets them. She knows that they’re Alec’s family now that he’s an adult and she’s thrilled to meet them.

Parker is a little odd with her manners but amusing and sweet. It’s apparent to Nana that she adores her Alec and that he adores her right back. Nana isn’t surprised one bit to hear that she was in the foster system, too. In fact, she is angry that the system failed her like it did so many other kids but it looks like Parker turned out all right. (She’s sure that her son’s had something to do with that. He has always had that effect on people.)

She can see that Eliot is a man with a good heart. Again, she’s seen plenty of different types of people raising her foster kids. There’s trouble behind those eyes to be sure but all she sees from him is his love for his family. It also doesn’t hurt that he calls her “Ma’am" instinctively (the boy was raised right!), helps in the kitchen, and starts cleaning up without being asked. 

(She later asks Eliot if Hardison helps out in the kitchen or with the clean up. And then, without waiting for Eliot to answer, she smiles and tells him that she’ll make sure that Hardison helps from now on. And if he doesn’t, Eliot just needs to tell her.) 

Nana totally knows what’s going on between Eliot, Hardison, and Parker. Like, she doesn’t need anyone to say anything about it. She can see it in the way they interact with each other. 

She knows love when she sees it. True, it’s nothing like what she’s familiar with but what’s important is that they treat her son right. He is happy and that’s all that matters.

Sophie is a bit of a mystery to Nana, She’s sophisticated and worldly and honestly, Nana kind of wonders how her son could have met someone like her. But in any case, it’s clear to Nana that Sophie is close to her son and that she looks out for him. She has a lot of fun chatting her up. 

(When Sophie talks to her, it’s easy to see where Hardison gets his gregariousness from.)

However, the one exception is Nate. It’s not that she treats him differently... much. She smiles and is polite, and urges seconds and another piece of pie. But there’s this... look... that she gives Nate that lets him know damn well knows he’s being judged every second.

Nana reminds Nate of the really strict nuns back in his Boston Catholic elementary school, the type whose gazes would bore holes into your soul, while lightly tapping a wooden ruler against her palm, just waiting for you to fuck up your recitation of the Nicene Creed for the fifth time. 

It’s not that the nuns ever said they’ll beat your ass with the ruler. It’s just that you know it’s coming, some way, somehow, so dear child of God, you better behave or else.

It’s an accurate assessment. She’s got the “Don’t Fuck With My Son On My Watch” aura going on whenever Nate’s around. This is not a woman to Be Trifled With. 

Nate may be used to manipulating people but Nana is a pro at Not Being Manipulated. This is a woman who raised many a foster child. Raising one foster child is hard enough. Foster children run the gammut of being well adjusted to not and she had the fortitude to raise as many as she could. And let it not be forgotten that she raised Hardison who, despite being The Softest Heart (tm) of the team, is/was a genius child who could have written over nuclear codes for funsies. And she managed to raise him to be a kind, caring individual, without an ounce of hubris. (A healthy dose of cockiness, he has. But actual hubris he does not.) 

This is not a woman that Nate could ever hope to manipulate or charm and she makes sure he knows it. 

(Nate knows better than to try. He knows the rest of the crew doesn’t think he knows better. But really, he knows better.)

It seems like others are either oblivious to Nana’s assessment of Nate. But really, they all are just enjoying the possibility of Nate’s getting his proverbial ass handed to him by a spitfire tiny little old African American woman about a foot shorter than him.