Fic: The Night the Lights Went Out (Leverage :: PG-13)
Title: The Night the Lights Went Out
Fandom: Leverage
Characters: Eliot, Alec
Word Count: 641
Prompt: 42:02 be patient
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Eliot's been baking but the electricity goes out at an inopportune time. He blames Alec.
"Hardison! Get your ass in here."
If there was anything that Alec hated more than a power outage while he was in the middle of a critical mission to gain the Sword of Tansu, it was hearing Eliot screaming his name in that You're Going to Regret You Ever Got Up This Morning voice. As he made his way through the obstacle course that was the darkened hallway, he went through the last twenty-four hours to see what it was that Eliot might want. It was always wise to have a few apologies in order when he sounded like that. Sometimes, if he rambled on about something else, Eliot forgot what he was really angry about in his irritation at the constant stream of noise.
The kitchen was a shambles. A mist of flour covered Hardison as he entered the room, causing him to sneeze five times in quick succession. An odd number of sneezes. A bad sign. His sinuses were on fire but he knew better than to say anything until he knew what direction this verbal beating was going to take. From the racket around him, Alec had a good idea where Eliot's ire was directed.
"Need someone to whip your butter?" he asked, because he was a glutton for punishment.
"Did you do this? Did you turn off the electricity?" A gob of something wet hit him in the neck. It was, most likely, intended for the very middle of his face. Either Eliot's aim was off because of the dark or because of his temper. Either one wasn't good for Alec. "Did one of your computer games use up all the electricity? Huh? Is this because of your stupid obsession with your computers."
"Hey, now." Alec held up his hands even though the gesture would do him no good in the dark. He needed the hit man to hear the sincerity in his voice, though. "Computer don't use up the elec-"
"Then what did you do?" The words were punctuated with more gobs of half-cooked dough. If he remembered correctly, Eliot was talking about making puff pastry but this tasted more like flan. Interesting.
Taking two steps to the side just in case Eliot had gotten a fix on him, Alec tried to think of something he could say that would make this worse. The problem was, he couldn't think of anything he could say that would diffuse Eliot's anger. After a couple of deep breaths, he decided that he might as well say something or the dough was going to continue plopping against the wall behind him with increasing regularity. It should have been hitting him. The fact that it wasn't said that the quick fuse of Eliot's anger had snuffed out.
Still, the truth was going to go further to help him than any fiction that might sound good but would only get him into trouble later on. "I didn't do anything. God as my witness, Eliot. I didn't do anything. Let me go check on the fuses and-"
"Why didn't you do that in the first place?"
"Because you yelled my name like you were going to rip my arms off of my body and serve them up with some... some turnips."
That earned him a strangled laugh. "I wouldn't serve arms with turnips. Nasty, nasty vegetable. They would go much better with brussel sprouts. Do you like brussel sprouts, Hardison?"
"Ah, man. You aren't going to make me eat brussel sprouts because of this, are you?" He made a production of his tantrum because he knew it always made Eliot smile to see him squirm. "I didn't do this so you shouldn't be tormenting me with brussel sprouts."
"Fix it," Eliot growled.
"Right. I'm getting right on it. Just... just be patient." That earned him another growl but this one had much less heat behind it.
Fandom: Leverage
Characters: Eliot, Alec
Word Count: 641
Prompt: 42:02 be patient
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Eliot's been baking but the electricity goes out at an inopportune time. He blames Alec.
"Hardison! Get your ass in here."
If there was anything that Alec hated more than a power outage while he was in the middle of a critical mission to gain the Sword of Tansu, it was hearing Eliot screaming his name in that You're Going to Regret You Ever Got Up This Morning voice. As he made his way through the obstacle course that was the darkened hallway, he went through the last twenty-four hours to see what it was that Eliot might want. It was always wise to have a few apologies in order when he sounded like that. Sometimes, if he rambled on about something else, Eliot forgot what he was really angry about in his irritation at the constant stream of noise.
The kitchen was a shambles. A mist of flour covered Hardison as he entered the room, causing him to sneeze five times in quick succession. An odd number of sneezes. A bad sign. His sinuses were on fire but he knew better than to say anything until he knew what direction this verbal beating was going to take. From the racket around him, Alec had a good idea where Eliot's ire was directed.
"Need someone to whip your butter?" he asked, because he was a glutton for punishment.
"Did you do this? Did you turn off the electricity?" A gob of something wet hit him in the neck. It was, most likely, intended for the very middle of his face. Either Eliot's aim was off because of the dark or because of his temper. Either one wasn't good for Alec. "Did one of your computer games use up all the electricity? Huh? Is this because of your stupid obsession with your computers."
"Hey, now." Alec held up his hands even though the gesture would do him no good in the dark. He needed the hit man to hear the sincerity in his voice, though. "Computer don't use up the elec-"
"Then what did you do?" The words were punctuated with more gobs of half-cooked dough. If he remembered correctly, Eliot was talking about making puff pastry but this tasted more like flan. Interesting.
Taking two steps to the side just in case Eliot had gotten a fix on him, Alec tried to think of something he could say that would make this worse. The problem was, he couldn't think of anything he could say that would diffuse Eliot's anger. After a couple of deep breaths, he decided that he might as well say something or the dough was going to continue plopping against the wall behind him with increasing regularity. It should have been hitting him. The fact that it wasn't said that the quick fuse of Eliot's anger had snuffed out.
Still, the truth was going to go further to help him than any fiction that might sound good but would only get him into trouble later on. "I didn't do anything. God as my witness, Eliot. I didn't do anything. Let me go check on the fuses and-"
"Why didn't you do that in the first place?"
"Because you yelled my name like you were going to rip my arms off of my body and serve them up with some... some turnips."
That earned him a strangled laugh. "I wouldn't serve arms with turnips. Nasty, nasty vegetable. They would go much better with brussel sprouts. Do you like brussel sprouts, Hardison?"
"Ah, man. You aren't going to make me eat brussel sprouts because of this, are you?" He made a production of his tantrum because he knew it always made Eliot smile to see him squirm. "I didn't do this so you shouldn't be tormenting me with brussel sprouts."
"Fix it," Eliot growled.
"Right. I'm getting right on it. Just... just be patient." That earned him another growl but this one had much less heat behind it.