Fic: Rule No. 1 is 'Don't Get Hurt'
Fic: Rule No. 1 is 'Don't Get Hurt'
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Alec/Eliot
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Language
Notes: Prompted by jendavis: 'Hardison gets his butt kicked, on or off the job, & Eliot takes care of him' - hopefully this suits? :)
-
In a long childhood of disappointments, trials and hurt, Alec Hardison had sworn that he'd never let himself be in a position to be physically hurt again. He trained his body to avoid standing out in a crowd, he'd replaced his glasses with contacts as soon as they came available, and he'd learned the skill of verbally distracting anyone until they were so turned around they didn't even remember that they had been planning on doing some violence against him. He'd perfected this character of his who was invincible in every way, and that was why he'd pretty much shied away from all of Eliot's lessons on self-defence. Because... well, a guy who knew how to defend himself was gonna get himself into scrapes where he *had* to defend himself... and that was already breaking the number one rule.
Problem was... every so often the team came across the kind of goon who didn't wait for him to open his mouth, and who wanted to beat him up just because it was their job and they were really freaking good at following orders. And then everything went to shit, just like today.
So after a rather cunning escape, if he did say so himself - he felt fairly justified in getting his grief out all over Eliot, noisily and without really taking more than the occasional breath. He hurt, he was all bruised up, he wasn't going to be able to sleep for weeks with his hips all scraped up from the asphalt, and his head was pounding. He was going to let Eliot know about it.
"And while I was getting beat all to shit, what were you doing, huh? You were taking another dip in a river with my tech in your ear. Do you know how many of those I go through for you, huh?" he wrapped up in a heavy-handed crescendo, finishing his pace across their apartment by spinning and pointing an accusatory finger at Eliot.
There was a smirk playing at the edges of Eliot's lips, his hair curling erratically after his impromptu swim and a bruise and associated scrape blooming on his cheek. "Are you done?" he asked, when Alec stumbled over those visual cues and got distracted from his rant.
"No. No I am not done..." Hardison declared, and promptly realised he kind of was, floundering for something else to say as he eased himself down into a chair very very carefully. "Well... Goddamn you for hiding how fucking hard this is."
"Are you done?" Eliot asked again, still smirking like a fool.
He forced himself to breathe out slowly, releasing everything that hadn't come out in that first deluge of words and finding that the pain eased off a little when he relaxed. "Yeah, I kinda am," Alec admitted wryly.
He just wasn't used to this. He'd avoided it so well over the last handful of years, and he'd been so used to Eliot's habit of hiding until he could put on a war face and carry on like usual. He was used to hiding himself behind three different routing accounts and a handful of global borders.
"Alright then," Eliot pushed himself up from his seat, "We're gonna get you iced up while I check you over and then I'm gonna run you a bath."
"A bath!?" Alec had forgotten they even had one of those. He hadn't taken one since he'd been able to stand up for more than ten minutes at a time. Not counting that jacuzzi that one time... or the hot tub with those Star Wars girls...
"Believe me, tomorrow you're going to appreciate the bath." Eliot was already on his way back with a handful of towels and some ice packs. He looked set to go into war, determined look on his face.
"But it's just..." Alec whined as Eliot pressed a pack against his hip, bringing Alec's own hand down to hold it in place. He started to move and Eliot kept his hand there.
"Hold it still," he demanded in his 'giving orders' voice. Normally, Alec loved that voice. He really did. But right now...
"Yessir," Alec replied, shutting his eyes against the sharp pain. The ice started to do its work, permeating into his bones and making him forget about the scrapes on his skin. He relaxed slowly, and then flinched again as Eliot put another pack down on the side of his ribs.
Eliot did chuckle at that, sadistic bastard. Alec was fairly put out that it took him getting all beat to hell to get a laugh out of his boyfriend. Slowly, slowly, Alec started to feel more like himself. Just an awkward, iced down version of himself. He was turning into a sleepy, sluggish version of himself the more the pain eased, adrenaline dropping him back down to ground level. Eliot came back, even though he hadn't noticed him leaving, and eased Alec out of the chair. They left the ice behind in damp puddles on the sofa and then there was a bath. And it was bliss.
Not that he was planning on getting all beat up every day, or anything. But this could be worse.
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Alec/Eliot
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Language
Notes: Prompted by jendavis: 'Hardison gets his butt kicked, on or off the job, & Eliot takes care of him' - hopefully this suits? :)
-
In a long childhood of disappointments, trials and hurt, Alec Hardison had sworn that he'd never let himself be in a position to be physically hurt again. He trained his body to avoid standing out in a crowd, he'd replaced his glasses with contacts as soon as they came available, and he'd learned the skill of verbally distracting anyone until they were so turned around they didn't even remember that they had been planning on doing some violence against him. He'd perfected this character of his who was invincible in every way, and that was why he'd pretty much shied away from all of Eliot's lessons on self-defence. Because... well, a guy who knew how to defend himself was gonna get himself into scrapes where he *had* to defend himself... and that was already breaking the number one rule.
Problem was... every so often the team came across the kind of goon who didn't wait for him to open his mouth, and who wanted to beat him up just because it was their job and they were really freaking good at following orders. And then everything went to shit, just like today.
So after a rather cunning escape, if he did say so himself - he felt fairly justified in getting his grief out all over Eliot, noisily and without really taking more than the occasional breath. He hurt, he was all bruised up, he wasn't going to be able to sleep for weeks with his hips all scraped up from the asphalt, and his head was pounding. He was going to let Eliot know about it.
"And while I was getting beat all to shit, what were you doing, huh? You were taking another dip in a river with my tech in your ear. Do you know how many of those I go through for you, huh?" he wrapped up in a heavy-handed crescendo, finishing his pace across their apartment by spinning and pointing an accusatory finger at Eliot.
There was a smirk playing at the edges of Eliot's lips, his hair curling erratically after his impromptu swim and a bruise and associated scrape blooming on his cheek. "Are you done?" he asked, when Alec stumbled over those visual cues and got distracted from his rant.
"No. No I am not done..." Hardison declared, and promptly realised he kind of was, floundering for something else to say as he eased himself down into a chair very very carefully. "Well... Goddamn you for hiding how fucking hard this is."
"Are you done?" Eliot asked again, still smirking like a fool.
He forced himself to breathe out slowly, releasing everything that hadn't come out in that first deluge of words and finding that the pain eased off a little when he relaxed. "Yeah, I kinda am," Alec admitted wryly.
He just wasn't used to this. He'd avoided it so well over the last handful of years, and he'd been so used to Eliot's habit of hiding until he could put on a war face and carry on like usual. He was used to hiding himself behind three different routing accounts and a handful of global borders.
"Alright then," Eliot pushed himself up from his seat, "We're gonna get you iced up while I check you over and then I'm gonna run you a bath."
"A bath!?" Alec had forgotten they even had one of those. He hadn't taken one since he'd been able to stand up for more than ten minutes at a time. Not counting that jacuzzi that one time... or the hot tub with those Star Wars girls...
"Believe me, tomorrow you're going to appreciate the bath." Eliot was already on his way back with a handful of towels and some ice packs. He looked set to go into war, determined look on his face.
"But it's just..." Alec whined as Eliot pressed a pack against his hip, bringing Alec's own hand down to hold it in place. He started to move and Eliot kept his hand there.
"Hold it still," he demanded in his 'giving orders' voice. Normally, Alec loved that voice. He really did. But right now...
"Yessir," Alec replied, shutting his eyes against the sharp pain. The ice started to do its work, permeating into his bones and making him forget about the scrapes on his skin. He relaxed slowly, and then flinched again as Eliot put another pack down on the side of his ribs.
Eliot did chuckle at that, sadistic bastard. Alec was fairly put out that it took him getting all beat to hell to get a laugh out of his boyfriend. Slowly, slowly, Alec started to feel more like himself. Just an awkward, iced down version of himself. He was turning into a sleepy, sluggish version of himself the more the pain eased, adrenaline dropping him back down to ground level. Eliot came back, even though he hadn't noticed him leaving, and eased Alec out of the chair. They left the ice behind in damp puddles on the sofa and then there was a bath. And it was bliss.
Not that he was planning on getting all beat up every day, or anything. But this could be worse.