Three Sentences
These were written for comment_fic for the theme three sentences. Yeah, I had to limit myself to responses in three sentences. Fortunately, I learned sentence structure from William Faulkner, so …
for ziplockeddaze, distraction:
Eliot brings the spoon up to his mouth, closes his eyes and tastes, lips closing about the spoon and drawing it slowly inward, sucking ever so gently, then pulls it ever so slowly back out again, tongue laving lightly to claim every drop, a slow and blissfully satisfied smile curving about his mouth.
At the bar, Alec utters a strangled croak, his laptop and the financials Nate is expecting completely forgotten, then growls out a curse, slides out of his seat and hurries away, muttering under his breath as he tries not to adjust himself in suddenly too-tight jeans.
Behind him, Eliot lets out a low and dirty laugh and goes back to his cooking.
=====
for ziplockeddaze, unabashed willingness:
It was something the others never got used to, something that reassured, touched and, yes, frightened, them. They had come to count on it, had come to take it as one of the very few certainties in their chaotic world, but, even so, it still made them pause, made them think.
No matter how many times it happened, Eliot’s absolute and unabashed willingness to put his body, his life, on the line for them still took their collective breath away.
=====
for ziplockeddaze, status quo:
They go in, fast and silent as sharks scenting blood, grinning hungrily in anticipation. They do their best, which is their worst, wreaking chaos and havoc and utter, gleeful ruin, and get out, leaving no link between them and the devastation. And if, maybe, something blows up along the way, masking their exit with a stunning fireball, it’s just another day's work, the happy status quo for Nate Ford’s band of fucking-nuts thieves.
=====
for ziplockeddaze, chicken soup:
They’re at a loss - Eliot has always cooked for them. And as they flip through cookbooks and stare in horror at the incredibly long list of ingredients and instructions that they just know he’d be able to manage in his sleep, they know they’re beaten and are crushed at having let him down.
But when they finally bring him a bowl of microwaved chicken noodle soup from a can, he takes it with a smile - as well as a sniffle and a cough - because, as he learned from his Mama a long time ago, it’s not what’s in the soup that gives it medicinal power, but the love with which it’s served.
=====
for chibifukurou, kick your …:
Eliot growls low and deep in his throat as the irritation that only Hardison could produce bubbled up within him again - though, hell, by now it was really just a constant running stream - and tries to push the younger man’s hand away with a snarled, “I am still gonna kick your ass-”
But Alec only sighs and shakes his head, utterly unimpressed by the threat, which he hears multiple times a day, finishes applying the butterfly bandage to the gash Eliot got at his hairline trying to protect him from that dude in the bar with the grabby hands, then leans closer and brushes his lips against Eliot’s, whispering, “Now, man, you know kickin’ my ass ain’t at all what you wanta do.”
Eliot sighs - he does not whine, damn it! - and deflates, defeated by that kiss, and the gentleness of the long, nimble fingers moving so tenderly over his bruised face, then leans into Alec and admits, grudgingly, “Well, maybe not, but I could if I wanted to.”
for ziplockeddaze, distraction:
Eliot brings the spoon up to his mouth, closes his eyes and tastes, lips closing about the spoon and drawing it slowly inward, sucking ever so gently, then pulls it ever so slowly back out again, tongue laving lightly to claim every drop, a slow and blissfully satisfied smile curving about his mouth.
At the bar, Alec utters a strangled croak, his laptop and the financials Nate is expecting completely forgotten, then growls out a curse, slides out of his seat and hurries away, muttering under his breath as he tries not to adjust himself in suddenly too-tight jeans.
Behind him, Eliot lets out a low and dirty laugh and goes back to his cooking.
=====
for ziplockeddaze, unabashed willingness:
It was something the others never got used to, something that reassured, touched and, yes, frightened, them. They had come to count on it, had come to take it as one of the very few certainties in their chaotic world, but, even so, it still made them pause, made them think.
No matter how many times it happened, Eliot’s absolute and unabashed willingness to put his body, his life, on the line for them still took their collective breath away.
=====
for ziplockeddaze, status quo:
They go in, fast and silent as sharks scenting blood, grinning hungrily in anticipation. They do their best, which is their worst, wreaking chaos and havoc and utter, gleeful ruin, and get out, leaving no link between them and the devastation. And if, maybe, something blows up along the way, masking their exit with a stunning fireball, it’s just another day's work, the happy status quo for Nate Ford’s band of fucking-nuts thieves.
=====
for ziplockeddaze, chicken soup:
They’re at a loss - Eliot has always cooked for them. And as they flip through cookbooks and stare in horror at the incredibly long list of ingredients and instructions that they just know he’d be able to manage in his sleep, they know they’re beaten and are crushed at having let him down.
But when they finally bring him a bowl of microwaved chicken noodle soup from a can, he takes it with a smile - as well as a sniffle and a cough - because, as he learned from his Mama a long time ago, it’s not what’s in the soup that gives it medicinal power, but the love with which it’s served.
=====
for chibifukurou, kick your …:
Eliot growls low and deep in his throat as the irritation that only Hardison could produce bubbled up within him again - though, hell, by now it was really just a constant running stream - and tries to push the younger man’s hand away with a snarled, “I am still gonna kick your ass-”
But Alec only sighs and shakes his head, utterly unimpressed by the threat, which he hears multiple times a day, finishes applying the butterfly bandage to the gash Eliot got at his hairline trying to protect him from that dude in the bar with the grabby hands, then leans closer and brushes his lips against Eliot’s, whispering, “Now, man, you know kickin’ my ass ain’t at all what you wanta do.”
Eliot sighs - he does not whine, damn it! - and deflates, defeated by that kiss, and the gentleness of the long, nimble fingers moving so tenderly over his bruised face, then leans into Alec and admits, grudgingly, “Well, maybe not, but I could if I wanted to.”