Fic: Rage Boils Over
Fic: Rage Boils Over
Author: LMX
Rating: PG-13
Pre-series Fic, Damien/Evie/Eliot
Verse: Damien Luvs Evie
Spoilers: For Damien Moreau
Warnings: bad language, violence involving a woman
AN: FIGHT BINGO! - Anger (Masterpost)
-
Eliot plunged back into the room like there was something dark on his heels, grabbing Evie by a delicate shoulder and spinning her around roughly. "Do you know what you've done?" he demanded, a little hoarsely - he'd done a lot of shouting today and he wasn't about to stop now. "Four men died today because you couldn't keep your fucking psycho tendencies in check."
"You survived it," she trilled, eyes too wide and voice to sharp to hide her adrenaline-high.
"What?" he growled, sure he already knew what she was talking about but willing to push the boat out on this one.
"I said," she sing-songed, "You survived it. If they were good enough, they would have too."
Eliot could feel flash-hot anger starting to expand behind his eyes like a slow motion explosion. "You blew up the building, you..." He couldn't even choke out the words of rage.
"Did Chapman make it out alright?" Evie asked into the tense silence.
"Why would I give a shit what happened to Chapman?" Eliot hissed.
"You know the full names... and I'm guessing you could probably tell me their parent's names and their life history... of the four men who died today." Evie restrained a smirk that wasn't going anywhere towards calming Eliot's anger. Those men, her men as far as this little outfit had any kind of structure, had meant nothing to her. "But you didn't even know your little apprentice was there?"
"Stop calling him that," Eliot said, not for the first time. "I ain't teaching him a thing."
"And whose fault is that?" she pressed.
"This ain't about me, Evie." Eliot slammed his hand down on the nearest flat surface - the top of a munitions crate as it turns out. "This is you and the four guys who didn't walk out of that warehouse."
"They weren't fast enough," she repeated, fingers creeping towards the gun in her holster, well aware of where she was leading him.
Her dismissive tone was more than enough to send Eliot over the edge. Seeing red, he grabbed her hand away from her gun and shoved her bodily into the wall.
She got her hands free in time to shove back and knock Eliot off balance. She span with a wild grin that Eliot only just caught sight of, and he ducked under her fist and out of the way of the knee she followed it up with. He put his shoulder into her stomach and threw her back into the wall. The whooshing noise as her lungs emptied was briefly soothing to the fire of rage that was fueling his rushing heartbeat, but she twisted out of his grip, wheezing as she clawed for her guns.
Eliot had them both in his hands, throwing them aside as the anger made him reckless enough to think he'd disarmed her. Evie's knife cut through the leather jacket he was wearing and grazed his shoulder as Eliot shifted to save his throat. He caught her wrist, gritting his teeth against the new sharp needling of pain, and wrenched her arm forwards so that she dropped the knife. He pulled her arm up behind her and twisted until she stopped struggling, knocking her free hand away from another concealed blade.
He heard her breath hitch and let go of her suddenly, pulling back as all the anger fled just as quickly as it had arrived. She turned and pressed both hands against his chest, no aggression in her face. He stepped back and away from that open, unguarded look; kept stepping until he was backed up against the wall. She never lost contact with his chest.
She lent forwards slowly, eyes on his, and rested her head on his shoulder. "You feeling better now?" she asked, uncharacteristically gentle.
He felt tired. Exhausted really, trying to keep ahead of this shit-storm, and the remnants of the sharp buzzing hurt inside could be dissipated... other ways.
He nodded once, let her pull away.
Damien was in the doorway, smiling at them both. "You two finished playing?" he asked, voice equally gentle.
Evie grinned wickedly, and shook her head.
Author: LMX
Rating: PG-13
Pre-series Fic, Damien/Evie/Eliot
Verse: Damien Luvs Evie
Spoilers: For Damien Moreau
Warnings: bad language, violence involving a woman
AN: FIGHT BINGO! - Anger (Masterpost)
-
Eliot plunged back into the room like there was something dark on his heels, grabbing Evie by a delicate shoulder and spinning her around roughly. "Do you know what you've done?" he demanded, a little hoarsely - he'd done a lot of shouting today and he wasn't about to stop now. "Four men died today because you couldn't keep your fucking psycho tendencies in check."
"You survived it," she trilled, eyes too wide and voice to sharp to hide her adrenaline-high.
"What?" he growled, sure he already knew what she was talking about but willing to push the boat out on this one.
"I said," she sing-songed, "You survived it. If they were good enough, they would have too."
Eliot could feel flash-hot anger starting to expand behind his eyes like a slow motion explosion. "You blew up the building, you..." He couldn't even choke out the words of rage.
"Did Chapman make it out alright?" Evie asked into the tense silence.
"Why would I give a shit what happened to Chapman?" Eliot hissed.
"You know the full names... and I'm guessing you could probably tell me their parent's names and their life history... of the four men who died today." Evie restrained a smirk that wasn't going anywhere towards calming Eliot's anger. Those men, her men as far as this little outfit had any kind of structure, had meant nothing to her. "But you didn't even know your little apprentice was there?"
"Stop calling him that," Eliot said, not for the first time. "I ain't teaching him a thing."
"And whose fault is that?" she pressed.
"This ain't about me, Evie." Eliot slammed his hand down on the nearest flat surface - the top of a munitions crate as it turns out. "This is you and the four guys who didn't walk out of that warehouse."
"They weren't fast enough," she repeated, fingers creeping towards the gun in her holster, well aware of where she was leading him.
Her dismissive tone was more than enough to send Eliot over the edge. Seeing red, he grabbed her hand away from her gun and shoved her bodily into the wall.
She got her hands free in time to shove back and knock Eliot off balance. She span with a wild grin that Eliot only just caught sight of, and he ducked under her fist and out of the way of the knee she followed it up with. He put his shoulder into her stomach and threw her back into the wall. The whooshing noise as her lungs emptied was briefly soothing to the fire of rage that was fueling his rushing heartbeat, but she twisted out of his grip, wheezing as she clawed for her guns.
Eliot had them both in his hands, throwing them aside as the anger made him reckless enough to think he'd disarmed her. Evie's knife cut through the leather jacket he was wearing and grazed his shoulder as Eliot shifted to save his throat. He caught her wrist, gritting his teeth against the new sharp needling of pain, and wrenched her arm forwards so that she dropped the knife. He pulled her arm up behind her and twisted until she stopped struggling, knocking her free hand away from another concealed blade.
He heard her breath hitch and let go of her suddenly, pulling back as all the anger fled just as quickly as it had arrived. She turned and pressed both hands against his chest, no aggression in her face. He stepped back and away from that open, unguarded look; kept stepping until he was backed up against the wall. She never lost contact with his chest.
She lent forwards slowly, eyes on his, and rested her head on his shoulder. "You feeling better now?" she asked, uncharacteristically gentle.
He felt tired. Exhausted really, trying to keep ahead of this shit-storm, and the remnants of the sharp buzzing hurt inside could be dissipated... other ways.
He nodded once, let her pull away.
Damien was in the doorway, smiling at them both. "You two finished playing?" he asked, voice equally gentle.
Evie grinned wickedly, and shook her head.