Purple
Title: Purple
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg-13
Genre: Werewolf!Eliot, pre-Nate/Eliot/Sophie
Verse: Phases of the Moon
Summary: Parker doesn't like the color Purple.
Notes: For the Bruises square on my H/c bingo card.
Warning: Implied domestic abuse
Purple was the color of grape candy and odd houses.
Purple was the color of her bike. The one her brother was riding when he died.
When she was eight she had a foster sister who only dressed in purple. She doesn’t remember her name but she remembers she was always angry.
Like Eliot when he first turned. No. She didn’t want to think about that right now.
Purple was a hurt color. The color of bruises and black eyes and the dresses of the dolls that one foster father gave her After.
It was the color of the marks she’d seen on Eliot’s neck two days after they got back from the job at the county fair where everything had gone wrong. She’d caught him off guard in his training studio. He’d been wearing high collared shirts since the morning after they got back.
She told Sophie that she thought something was wrong. They looked different than hikkies and Eliot kept touching them like they hurt.
Sophie wasn’t supposed to act like the purple was a good thing.
Claiming. She’d said. Eliot had found an Alpha.
Parker didn’t like the sound of someone claiming Eliot. He was theirs already.
This alpha had stolen Eliot, or was trying to.
But Sophie told her that a werewolf needed a pack and Eliot not telling them just meant he was having trouble making the adjustment and they needed to give him space and time to work things out.
So Parker promised not to mention it and to give Eliot space.
And it seemed to be okay. Eliot came in at the same time he always did, though he wasn’t around as often at night or over the weekends but he kept his phone with him and on.
He’d started to seem a little less angry and a little more comfortable. During the briefing for the next job he told Nate they needed to find someone else to play one of his parts, that he hadn’t had enough time in small spaces yet to be sure that the claustrophobia wouldn’t cause ‘the wolf’ to freak out. He was also able to warn them of a couple little stumbling blocks when dealing with him, things Parker guessed they might need to thank his new alpha for.
And he lost that tired lonelylost look he’d been carrying around since he turned.
It had almost made Parker happy.
A month passed. Eliot took the three days of the full moon off, uncomfortably telling them he had indeed found an alpha and that his alpha was taking him out of the city, into a deep backwoods area away from people, and teaching him how to hunt. He’d be out of reach of cellphones and coms but would check in every day at the closest town.
Parker could tell Nate hated letting him go, but couldn’t really ask him to stay.
He’d come back looking blue and green, live colors, calm and smooth and good colors. He’d moved like red. Wild.
Like somewhere out in the woods he’d let the wolf out and inside of him.
He smelled like forests and rain now, his old apple shampoo smell gone.
Parker had been *almost* ready to agree to duel custody of Eliot with his mysterious alpha. She didn’t like it but he had seemed happier.
Then she’d come into headquarters late one night a week after the full moon and saw a light from Eliot’s studio.
She’d gone in through the air ducts, intending to try to sneak up on him like always, a game she’d been playing with him since they’d first become a team.
She hadn’t even dropped out of the air duct when she heard a hiss of pain. She moved, trying to get a glimpse of him, suddenly worried.
When she did catch sight of him she had to bite back bile rising in her throat and something shouting in her hurt angry place.
His shirt was off, bruises splashing across his torso overlaying faded green and yellow.
And there on his neck she could see fresh purple.
She opened the grate and slipped down into the room, making sure her feet made enough noise that she wouldn’t surprise Eliot.
Eliot turned toward her, hand already reaching for the shirt on the table next to him.
She shook her head, holding up her hands. She wasn’t going to ask. She already was pretty sure she knew. “Tell me not to tell Nate and Sophie and I won’t.” She told him. He’d been hurt. She knew what it meant to be hurt, knew sometimes you didn’t want people to know. That sometimes that just made things worse.
And it was Eliot.
His alpha wouldn’t be hurting him a second time. He would know better.
Eliot’s shoulders slumped, hurting, tired again…
“I won’t tell.” She said, moving closer slowly. “But I wanna help.” He was her’s, their’s, and she would try to undo the damage the alpha had done to him.
Besides, she knew what to do about purple.
The fact Eliot didn’t argue worried her. It wasn’t right. He was always supposed to be angry. He was always supposed to argue.
But he just sat down on the stool and braced his hands on his knees.
His knuckles weren’t bruised, but maybe Werewolves didn’t get bruised knuckles when they fought.
She got icepacks and ace bandage for his wrist and felt for damaged ribs and wished she was Sophie and knew what to say that would make him stop looking so defeated.
She could treat the bruises on his body.
She didn’t know what to do about the other ones.
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg-13
Genre: Werewolf!Eliot, pre-Nate/Eliot/Sophie
Verse: Phases of the Moon
Summary: Parker doesn't like the color Purple.
Notes: For the Bruises square on my H/c bingo card.
Warning: Implied domestic abuse
Purple was the color of grape candy and odd houses.
Purple was the color of her bike. The one her brother was riding when he died.
When she was eight she had a foster sister who only dressed in purple. She doesn’t remember her name but she remembers she was always angry.
Like Eliot when he first turned. No. She didn’t want to think about that right now.
Purple was a hurt color. The color of bruises and black eyes and the dresses of the dolls that one foster father gave her After.
It was the color of the marks she’d seen on Eliot’s neck two days after they got back from the job at the county fair where everything had gone wrong. She’d caught him off guard in his training studio. He’d been wearing high collared shirts since the morning after they got back.
She told Sophie that she thought something was wrong. They looked different than hikkies and Eliot kept touching them like they hurt.
Sophie wasn’t supposed to act like the purple was a good thing.
Claiming. She’d said. Eliot had found an Alpha.
Parker didn’t like the sound of someone claiming Eliot. He was theirs already.
This alpha had stolen Eliot, or was trying to.
But Sophie told her that a werewolf needed a pack and Eliot not telling them just meant he was having trouble making the adjustment and they needed to give him space and time to work things out.
So Parker promised not to mention it and to give Eliot space.
And it seemed to be okay. Eliot came in at the same time he always did, though he wasn’t around as often at night or over the weekends but he kept his phone with him and on.
He’d started to seem a little less angry and a little more comfortable. During the briefing for the next job he told Nate they needed to find someone else to play one of his parts, that he hadn’t had enough time in small spaces yet to be sure that the claustrophobia wouldn’t cause ‘the wolf’ to freak out. He was also able to warn them of a couple little stumbling blocks when dealing with him, things Parker guessed they might need to thank his new alpha for.
And he lost that tired lonelylost look he’d been carrying around since he turned.
It had almost made Parker happy.
A month passed. Eliot took the three days of the full moon off, uncomfortably telling them he had indeed found an alpha and that his alpha was taking him out of the city, into a deep backwoods area away from people, and teaching him how to hunt. He’d be out of reach of cellphones and coms but would check in every day at the closest town.
Parker could tell Nate hated letting him go, but couldn’t really ask him to stay.
He’d come back looking blue and green, live colors, calm and smooth and good colors. He’d moved like red. Wild.
Like somewhere out in the woods he’d let the wolf out and inside of him.
He smelled like forests and rain now, his old apple shampoo smell gone.
Parker had been *almost* ready to agree to duel custody of Eliot with his mysterious alpha. She didn’t like it but he had seemed happier.
Then she’d come into headquarters late one night a week after the full moon and saw a light from Eliot’s studio.
She’d gone in through the air ducts, intending to try to sneak up on him like always, a game she’d been playing with him since they’d first become a team.
She hadn’t even dropped out of the air duct when she heard a hiss of pain. She moved, trying to get a glimpse of him, suddenly worried.
When she did catch sight of him she had to bite back bile rising in her throat and something shouting in her hurt angry place.
His shirt was off, bruises splashing across his torso overlaying faded green and yellow.
And there on his neck she could see fresh purple.
She opened the grate and slipped down into the room, making sure her feet made enough noise that she wouldn’t surprise Eliot.
Eliot turned toward her, hand already reaching for the shirt on the table next to him.
She shook her head, holding up her hands. She wasn’t going to ask. She already was pretty sure she knew. “Tell me not to tell Nate and Sophie and I won’t.” She told him. He’d been hurt. She knew what it meant to be hurt, knew sometimes you didn’t want people to know. That sometimes that just made things worse.
And it was Eliot.
His alpha wouldn’t be hurting him a second time. He would know better.
Eliot’s shoulders slumped, hurting, tired again…
“I won’t tell.” She said, moving closer slowly. “But I wanna help.” He was her’s, their’s, and she would try to undo the damage the alpha had done to him.
Besides, she knew what to do about purple.
The fact Eliot didn’t argue worried her. It wasn’t right. He was always supposed to be angry. He was always supposed to argue.
But he just sat down on the stool and braced his hands on his knees.
His knuckles weren’t bruised, but maybe Werewolves didn’t get bruised knuckles when they fought.
She got icepacks and ace bandage for his wrist and felt for damaged ribs and wished she was Sophie and knew what to say that would make him stop looking so defeated.
She could treat the bruises on his body.
She didn’t know what to do about the other ones.