Leverage fic: A Wolf Once More Was He (1/2)
Title: A Wolf Once More Was He, Part I
Fandom(s): Leverage
Rating: G
Word Count: 232
Summary: Eliot Spencer has incapacitated thirteen hired guns while bleeding and bruised from head to toe. He’s liberated Croatia. He can do and conquer anything. Except, it happens, a cold. Parker, superlative thief and evader, seems to be in a similar quandary.
Author’s Notes: Response to this prompt.
A Wolf Once More Was He
Part I
“Eliot, you’re sick.”
Great. Just great. Out of all the people who would break into his apartment, it’s her.
“Don’t touch me.”
“You’re sick.”
“Am not. I don’t get sick.”
“You look like hell. And you’ve used up all the Kleenex.”
“Leave me alone.”
She smiles that irksome smile and hands him a new box, along with some aspirin.
“Move over. This is exciting.”
Grudgingly, Eliot does, grimacing at the pounding behind his eyes and temples as a result.
She hands him a tissue without looking away from the TV screen, and he takes it (manfully, of course).
He thinks she gave him a sedative instead of aspirin, because he falls asleep within minutes to the first game of the fuckin’ Stanley Cup, and when he wakes again, it’s dark outside.
The game long over, the channel’s now playing a loop of an infomercial, and he turns bleary eyes to his left, only to see her passed out in a not entirely unamusing fashion, face lit up in the darkness by the dull glow of the television.
Later, he’d convince even himself that it was just the fever talking, but as he looks at her, realizes that she’d forgone Hardison’s bar hopping proposal for watching hockey and contentedly pretending she didn’t hear his failed attempts at not sniffling, he thinks maybe being sick once in a while isn’t so bad after all.
Part II
Fandom(s): Leverage
Rating: G
Word Count: 232
Summary: Eliot Spencer has incapacitated thirteen hired guns while bleeding and bruised from head to toe. He’s liberated Croatia. He can do and conquer anything. Except, it happens, a cold. Parker, superlative thief and evader, seems to be in a similar quandary.
Author’s Notes: Response to this prompt.
A Wolf Once More Was He
Part I
“Eliot, you’re sick.”
Great. Just great. Out of all the people who would break into his apartment, it’s her.
“Don’t touch me.”
“You’re sick.”
“Am not. I don’t get sick.”
“You look like hell. And you’ve used up all the Kleenex.”
“Leave me alone.”
She smiles that irksome smile and hands him a new box, along with some aspirin.
“Move over. This is exciting.”
Grudgingly, Eliot does, grimacing at the pounding behind his eyes and temples as a result.
She hands him a tissue without looking away from the TV screen, and he takes it (manfully, of course).
He thinks she gave him a sedative instead of aspirin, because he falls asleep within minutes to the first game of the fuckin’ Stanley Cup, and when he wakes again, it’s dark outside.
The game long over, the channel’s now playing a loop of an infomercial, and he turns bleary eyes to his left, only to see her passed out in a not entirely unamusing fashion, face lit up in the darkness by the dull glow of the television.
Later, he’d convince even himself that it was just the fever talking, but as he looks at her, realizes that she’d forgone Hardison’s bar hopping proposal for watching hockey and contentedly pretending she didn’t hear his failed attempts at not sniffling, he thinks maybe being sick once in a while isn’t so bad after all.
Part II