Laughing Matters
Title: Laughing Matters
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg-13
Genre: Werewolf!Eliot, pre-Nate/Eliot/Sophie
Verse: Phases of the Moon
Summary: Hardison likes to think he's raised not thinking about things to an art form.
Notes: For the Fer of Clowns square on my H/c bingo card.
Hardison likes to believe he’s managed to get not thinking about things down to an art form. In fact if he ever had to make a resume he might just include that as part of his list of skills because it had to be considered useful especially with all the people on the team who would be better off with a lot less time spent brooding.
The key, he’d found, wasn’t actually not thinking about *anything* it was about carefully redirecting your thoughts and keeping a steady stream of new information.
Take now for example.
He could be thinking about the fact he set up bugs in the panic room when Eliot had told them all he was going to be making the changes alone and thus had been treated to a front row seat of Eliot writhing in pain and actually screaming as he changed before Hardison’s eyes.
He could be thinking about how much Nate drank each of the three nights Eliot had changed or how Parker had perched on the stairs to the upper level of Nate’s loft and picked every lock in her box, over and over and over, and how Sophie kept getting up from her chair where she was pretending to read before sitting back down.
He could be thinking about the worn out and exhausted Eliot who’d open the door every morning with bruises and a hollowed out look in his eyes.
But instead he was thinking about the new job they’d started the day after Eliot’s last change. About the county fair he was currently at with Parker and Eliot.
About his continuing trials to help Eliot keep Parker from getting hyped up on sugar before their turn at the con came.
They’d learned the hard way a long time ago that Parker and sugar highs were a very bad combo.
He was also focusing on trying to find a decent wifi hotspot for his smart phone, how good Parker looked in the outfit Sophie had picked out for her, and finding as many opportunities to tease Eliot over the fact he seemed very very comfortable here.
The key to not thinking about things was having a wide and ever changing assortment of things that were safe to think about.
Of course his finely honed art was always somewhat at risk of being interrupted when they were on a con. Things he may not want to think about (the big question mark that was Eliot’s new abilities and limitations, the weirdly overprotective streak Nate and Sophie had developed for Eliot, the fact there was a guy in a horse costume that might freak Parker out) could still have a major (and possibly lethal) effect on the con.
So when Eliot suddenly stopped mid sentence and tensed, muttering “quiet” in his guys with guns voice and nearly dropping the big chicken stuffed animal he’d won for Parker twenty minutes ago (and been forced to carry ever since and hadn’t Hardison had so much fun with that) Hardison let himself think about things he wasn’t thinking about.
Eliot was on edge, his nose twitching in a way Hardison would make fun of one day when this was all a little easier to think about, eyes flicking about.
He’d used his guys with guns voice but now he didn’t seem so sure.
His gaze focused somewhere behind Hardison and the hacker could have sworn Eliot actually let out a low growl, the look on his face making Hardison think of a wolf pinning his ears back and starting to show teeth.
Hardison had a feeling he was going to turn around to find a goon (or, possibly, a drunk guy) behaving untoward toward Parker.
He didn’t really expect to turn around and find a clown making (albeit a somewhat bewildered but not obviously spooked) Parker a balloon animal.
Hardison turned back to Eliot. “Dude. I understand you’ve got this paranoia thing going but a clown is not gonna try to kill Parker. You need to relax.”
Of course telling Eliot to relax rarely had that effect so he should have probably saved his breath.
But it had been worth a shot.
“I can’t smell him.” Eliot responded subvocally, the earbuds allowing them all to hear it. “The hair dye, the makeup, clothes stored next to the horse trailers… I can’t smell him.”
That was new but the situation had crossed out of potentially-life-threatening-situation-zone and Hardison could start not thinking about things and focus on teasing Eliot.
It would help them both brood less and honestly the guy needed to relax. Just because he was basically wolverine now didn’t mean it was a disaster if he couldn’t smell someone.
“Okay we’re all very impressed that you’re not in any way shape or form actually afraid of clowns.” Hardison announced at a normal volume.
“Eliot’s afraid of clowns?” Parker asked without looking away from the quickly forming balloon crown. “No wonder he likes horses so much.” The clown placed her balloon crown on her head and she pointed toward Eliot. “You should make him a Puppy as a peace offering.”
On some level Hardison knew that A) the fact that Parker still thought horses killed clowns was worrisome and B) advising a clown to approach a -not- scared of clowns Eliot was probably a very bad idea.
But it was a situation dieing to be videoed for a potential future bargaining chip the next time Eliot found out something about him he didn’t want getting out.
Alls fair in family and war.
Besides, the clown seemed entirely pleased to waddle up to Eliot, greet him cordially, and start blowing up balloons to make another balloon animal.
Of course before Hardison got any good footage Eliot went very still and started almost shaking when the Clown started to twist the balloon, his pupils dilating wide, blue eyes getting an almost metallic gold quality.
Shit.
“Parker, distraction, now.” He said into the com, already moving forward as Parker moved to… whatever. He wasn’t paying attention anymore by that point. He’d already put a hand on Eliot’s shoulder and was physically turning the man away, half pulling him toward the shadowed alley between two tents. “Eliot breath relax.”
“What’s happening?” Nate’s voice chimed over the coms even as Hardison heard Sophie excuse herself from whoever she’d been talking to.
Eliot’s breathing was coming quick and shallow, eyes locking on Hardison’s, panic and fear in them like Hardison didn’t remember seeing in the Hitter before.
But he did recognize.
“I think Eliot’s having a panic attack.” The words sounded wrong as he said them but it was really the only thing he could think of. “Or a weird werewolf version of one.” Eliot had leaned back against a post, closing his eyes and cupping his hands over his nose and mouth like he was trying to physically stop the panicked breaths getting dangerously close to hyperventilation. “What do I do?”
“Get him to focus on you and try to get him to breathe normally.” Sophie told him. “The panic causes you to breathe quicker, the body mistakes it as an inability to breathe and you panic further. By now both are out of his control. Help him get it back.”
How the heck was he supposed to help captain self discipline regain control of his own body?
Before he could ask this Parker had slipped forward, wrapping an arm around his back and pressing herself along the side of his body, leaning her head against his shoulder and breathing in deeply.
Despite the situation Hardison almost smiled. The contact made Eliot focus on her and the manner of the contact would mean Eliot could *feel* Parker’s breathing pattern.
Somehow Parker knowing how to follow Sophie’s directions without saying a word made sense.
“What’s happening?” Nate asked when the silence stretched on a moment longer.
“Parker’s taking care of Eliot. Seems to be working.” He didn’t add the ‘a little’ out loud.
“Do you know what triggered him?” Sophie asked, the ambient noise from her com changing to a quieter setting.
“A clown trying to make him a balloon animal. I didn’t even know fear of clowns was an actual phobia that strong.” Hardison answered, not taking his eyes off Eliot.
“I couldn’t… smell him…” Eliot insisted. “And the wolf just… freaked…”
No one knew how to respond to that.
“You couldn’t smell him?” Sophie asked, her voice more gentle than Hardison could remember her directing at any of them except Parker.
Eliot was breathing steadily now, matching Parker’s breathing pattern. “Ever since I turned I identify people by smell even more than sight. Even in a crowd I can identify what smell is coming from which person.” He let out an almost shaky breath. “His smell was masked completely, it was like he wasn’t there, but he was… and he could have been anyone and I wouldn’t have known it.” He looked next to him, a slightly shaking hand reaching out for the balloon crown on Parker’s head. “And he was right next to Parker.”
Parker took off the offending crown, letting it drop to the side and leaned back against Eliot.
“Parker, take Eliot back to the van. Make sure he’s okay then you and Hardison finish your part of the con.” Eliot started to protest but Nate interrupted him, his voice just a hint firmer, the tone Hardison knew meant they were supposed to shut up and do as told. “Eliot, go back to the van but stay on the coms. You need to be able to get to them if they need you but we can’t afford you flipping out again.” There was a pause and Hardison thought Eliot might argue further when Nate repeated. “Eliot. Go.”
Eliot let out a breath almost like a hiss or a growl, turning to do as told, and Hardison could have almost sworn he saw a flash of gold from Eliot’s eyes.
Hardison forced his attention back on the con, forced himself to stop thinking about what just happened, to try to focus on earlier the afternoon.
But none of it seemed like laughing matters anymore.
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg-13
Genre: Werewolf!Eliot, pre-Nate/Eliot/Sophie
Verse: Phases of the Moon
Summary: Hardison likes to think he's raised not thinking about things to an art form.
Notes: For the Fer of Clowns square on my H/c bingo card.
Hardison likes to believe he’s managed to get not thinking about things down to an art form. In fact if he ever had to make a resume he might just include that as part of his list of skills because it had to be considered useful especially with all the people on the team who would be better off with a lot less time spent brooding.
The key, he’d found, wasn’t actually not thinking about *anything* it was about carefully redirecting your thoughts and keeping a steady stream of new information.
Take now for example.
He could be thinking about the fact he set up bugs in the panic room when Eliot had told them all he was going to be making the changes alone and thus had been treated to a front row seat of Eliot writhing in pain and actually screaming as he changed before Hardison’s eyes.
He could be thinking about how much Nate drank each of the three nights Eliot had changed or how Parker had perched on the stairs to the upper level of Nate’s loft and picked every lock in her box, over and over and over, and how Sophie kept getting up from her chair where she was pretending to read before sitting back down.
He could be thinking about the worn out and exhausted Eliot who’d open the door every morning with bruises and a hollowed out look in his eyes.
But instead he was thinking about the new job they’d started the day after Eliot’s last change. About the county fair he was currently at with Parker and Eliot.
About his continuing trials to help Eliot keep Parker from getting hyped up on sugar before their turn at the con came.
They’d learned the hard way a long time ago that Parker and sugar highs were a very bad combo.
He was also focusing on trying to find a decent wifi hotspot for his smart phone, how good Parker looked in the outfit Sophie had picked out for her, and finding as many opportunities to tease Eliot over the fact he seemed very very comfortable here.
The key to not thinking about things was having a wide and ever changing assortment of things that were safe to think about.
Of course his finely honed art was always somewhat at risk of being interrupted when they were on a con. Things he may not want to think about (the big question mark that was Eliot’s new abilities and limitations, the weirdly overprotective streak Nate and Sophie had developed for Eliot, the fact there was a guy in a horse costume that might freak Parker out) could still have a major (and possibly lethal) effect on the con.
So when Eliot suddenly stopped mid sentence and tensed, muttering “quiet” in his guys with guns voice and nearly dropping the big chicken stuffed animal he’d won for Parker twenty minutes ago (and been forced to carry ever since and hadn’t Hardison had so much fun with that) Hardison let himself think about things he wasn’t thinking about.
Eliot was on edge, his nose twitching in a way Hardison would make fun of one day when this was all a little easier to think about, eyes flicking about.
He’d used his guys with guns voice but now he didn’t seem so sure.
His gaze focused somewhere behind Hardison and the hacker could have sworn Eliot actually let out a low growl, the look on his face making Hardison think of a wolf pinning his ears back and starting to show teeth.
Hardison had a feeling he was going to turn around to find a goon (or, possibly, a drunk guy) behaving untoward toward Parker.
He didn’t really expect to turn around and find a clown making (albeit a somewhat bewildered but not obviously spooked) Parker a balloon animal.
Hardison turned back to Eliot. “Dude. I understand you’ve got this paranoia thing going but a clown is not gonna try to kill Parker. You need to relax.”
Of course telling Eliot to relax rarely had that effect so he should have probably saved his breath.
But it had been worth a shot.
“I can’t smell him.” Eliot responded subvocally, the earbuds allowing them all to hear it. “The hair dye, the makeup, clothes stored next to the horse trailers… I can’t smell him.”
That was new but the situation had crossed out of potentially-life-threatening-situation-zone and Hardison could start not thinking about things and focus on teasing Eliot.
It would help them both brood less and honestly the guy needed to relax. Just because he was basically wolverine now didn’t mean it was a disaster if he couldn’t smell someone.
“Okay we’re all very impressed that you’re not in any way shape or form actually afraid of clowns.” Hardison announced at a normal volume.
“Eliot’s afraid of clowns?” Parker asked without looking away from the quickly forming balloon crown. “No wonder he likes horses so much.” The clown placed her balloon crown on her head and she pointed toward Eliot. “You should make him a Puppy as a peace offering.”
On some level Hardison knew that A) the fact that Parker still thought horses killed clowns was worrisome and B) advising a clown to approach a -not- scared of clowns Eliot was probably a very bad idea.
But it was a situation dieing to be videoed for a potential future bargaining chip the next time Eliot found out something about him he didn’t want getting out.
Alls fair in family and war.
Besides, the clown seemed entirely pleased to waddle up to Eliot, greet him cordially, and start blowing up balloons to make another balloon animal.
Of course before Hardison got any good footage Eliot went very still and started almost shaking when the Clown started to twist the balloon, his pupils dilating wide, blue eyes getting an almost metallic gold quality.
Shit.
“Parker, distraction, now.” He said into the com, already moving forward as Parker moved to… whatever. He wasn’t paying attention anymore by that point. He’d already put a hand on Eliot’s shoulder and was physically turning the man away, half pulling him toward the shadowed alley between two tents. “Eliot breath relax.”
“What’s happening?” Nate’s voice chimed over the coms even as Hardison heard Sophie excuse herself from whoever she’d been talking to.
Eliot’s breathing was coming quick and shallow, eyes locking on Hardison’s, panic and fear in them like Hardison didn’t remember seeing in the Hitter before.
But he did recognize.
“I think Eliot’s having a panic attack.” The words sounded wrong as he said them but it was really the only thing he could think of. “Or a weird werewolf version of one.” Eliot had leaned back against a post, closing his eyes and cupping his hands over his nose and mouth like he was trying to physically stop the panicked breaths getting dangerously close to hyperventilation. “What do I do?”
“Get him to focus on you and try to get him to breathe normally.” Sophie told him. “The panic causes you to breathe quicker, the body mistakes it as an inability to breathe and you panic further. By now both are out of his control. Help him get it back.”
How the heck was he supposed to help captain self discipline regain control of his own body?
Before he could ask this Parker had slipped forward, wrapping an arm around his back and pressing herself along the side of his body, leaning her head against his shoulder and breathing in deeply.
Despite the situation Hardison almost smiled. The contact made Eliot focus on her and the manner of the contact would mean Eliot could *feel* Parker’s breathing pattern.
Somehow Parker knowing how to follow Sophie’s directions without saying a word made sense.
“What’s happening?” Nate asked when the silence stretched on a moment longer.
“Parker’s taking care of Eliot. Seems to be working.” He didn’t add the ‘a little’ out loud.
“Do you know what triggered him?” Sophie asked, the ambient noise from her com changing to a quieter setting.
“A clown trying to make him a balloon animal. I didn’t even know fear of clowns was an actual phobia that strong.” Hardison answered, not taking his eyes off Eliot.
“I couldn’t… smell him…” Eliot insisted. “And the wolf just… freaked…”
No one knew how to respond to that.
“You couldn’t smell him?” Sophie asked, her voice more gentle than Hardison could remember her directing at any of them except Parker.
Eliot was breathing steadily now, matching Parker’s breathing pattern. “Ever since I turned I identify people by smell even more than sight. Even in a crowd I can identify what smell is coming from which person.” He let out an almost shaky breath. “His smell was masked completely, it was like he wasn’t there, but he was… and he could have been anyone and I wouldn’t have known it.” He looked next to him, a slightly shaking hand reaching out for the balloon crown on Parker’s head. “And he was right next to Parker.”
Parker took off the offending crown, letting it drop to the side and leaned back against Eliot.
“Parker, take Eliot back to the van. Make sure he’s okay then you and Hardison finish your part of the con.” Eliot started to protest but Nate interrupted him, his voice just a hint firmer, the tone Hardison knew meant they were supposed to shut up and do as told. “Eliot, go back to the van but stay on the coms. You need to be able to get to them if they need you but we can’t afford you flipping out again.” There was a pause and Hardison thought Eliot might argue further when Nate repeated. “Eliot. Go.”
Eliot let out a breath almost like a hiss or a growl, turning to do as told, and Hardison could have almost sworn he saw a flash of gold from Eliot’s eyes.
Hardison forced his attention back on the con, forced himself to stop thinking about what just happened, to try to focus on earlier the afternoon.
But none of it seemed like laughing matters anymore.