Fic: It's the Great Pumpkin, Eliot Spencer!
It's the Great Pumpkin, Eliot Spencer!
Eliot, Parker
Rating: PG-13ish (language)
A/N: Written for comment_fic.
Warnings: Crack. Parker crack.
Apologies: To Charles Schulz. And Eliot.
“Come on, Eliot!” Parker urged impatiently, grabbing the hitter’s arm and trying to drag him out of the kitchen. “We have to go! We’re running out of time!”
Eliot grit his teeth and dug in his heels, resisting Parker with his full strength. And, damn, that girl was strong! “No!” he growled, reaching out to latch onto the edge of the counter and anchoring himself in place. “I am not gonna help you find a place to wait for the Great Pumpkin!”
She exhaled sharply and released him suddenly, wincing as he flew backward and landed on his ass on the floor, his head colliding loudly with the cabinet behind him. “Oops, sorry,” she offered with another wince.
“Damn it, Parker!” he snarled, glaring at her as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his head. “That hurt!” Hell, half the concussions he was getting these days were because of her!
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” she sighed, rolling her eyes again and waving a dismissive hand at him. “You get hit harder than that all the time. Now, get up. We have to go-”
“Parker,” Eliot ground his teeth again, and swore he could hear enamel cracking, “there’s no. such. thing. as the Great Pumpkin. It’s a cartoon!”
She arched her brows and tipped her head to one side, folding her arms against her chest and fixing him with a stern stare. “That’s what people say about Santa. And Batman. And a free lunch.”
Eliot blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked again. Then lifted a hand to rub at his temple as his brain began to twist itself into knots. “F- free lunch?” he croaked, and mentally kicked himself. Shit, why did he always ask?
She smiled and shrugged. “People always say there’s no such thing as a free lunch.” Her smile brightened and widened. “But I eat free all the time.”
“Darlin’, I don’t think they’re talkin’ about stealin’ food,” he muttered weakly, and, damn, why was he explaining to the crazy girl?
Wait …
“Batman?” he asked. And, fuck, he was doing it again!
“Yeah. People say there’s no Batman.” She looked around, then went to him and dropped to her knees at his side, leaning close to him and saying in a low, conspiritorial voice, “It’s okay, Eliot. I won’t tell anybody your secret. Except Hardison. But he already knows. He told me. But we won’t tell anybody else. Unless it’s somebody who already knows.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Does Nate know? He knows everything. How about Sophie? She likes to look under people’s beds. Has she looked under your bed? Did she find-”
“Stop, please!” Eliot begged, bowing his head and closing his eyes tightly, trying to plug his ears and rub his temples at the same time. This was it. He’d been tortured by the best in the business over the years and had never broken. Now Parker was about to crack him open like an egg.
Somebody, somewhere, really needed to die for this. And-
Wait.
He slowly raised his head, flinching when he met Parker’s direct, earnest, and utterly insane gaze. “What secret?” he asked.
And why the fuck did he keep doing that?
She looked around again, then smiled and leaned closer still. “That you’re Batman,” she whispered loudly, nodding slowly.
He blinked, and his left eye started to twitch. Sure, why not. “Batman?”
She nodded again. “That’s what Hardison says. Because, you know, you can fight but you never use a gun, and you’re smart, even when you don’t show it, and you know a lot of really strange stuff. And when you’re not fighting bad guys, you’re a playboy. Oh, and you’re always in a bad mood. Hardison said it’s because somebody killed your parents in front of you in an alley. I’m sorry about that,” she said somberly, patting his shoulder in a gesture of consolation. “I guess I’d be in a bad mood, too. But, see, people think that because they see Batman in the cartoons or comic books or movies, he’s not real, but I know better. Because you’re him. Except you’re, you know, taller in the movies. And not you. And you dress better. But still-”
“Parker,” he breathed, reaching out to lay a hand gently over her mouth, “I need you to stop talking now. Please. It’s starting to hurt me.”
She rolled her eyes and reached up to remove his hand. “We have to go,” she insisted. “There are pumpkin patches all over town. We have to figure out which one-”
“I g- I gotta make supper,” he said weakly, silently reminding himself to add ibuprofin to the shopping list. In an industrial drum, if he could find it. “Take Hardison.”
Yeah, that was it. Geekboy thought he loved Lunatic Barbie, let him prove it.
She sighed heavily, her face settling into a mask of sorrow. “He can’t. Nate’s got him going through some accounts, something to do with Moreau.” She grimaced. “Nate’s getting kind of obsessed again.”
Eliot stared at her. If they didn’t find Moreau, Nate was going into some Italian dungeon, and they were all going to be killed. He kind of thought the obsession was warranted.
“Besides,” she added, brightening, “it has to be you. You know what to look for.”
His eye twitched again; what were the warning signs of stroke? “I- I do?”
God, seriously, somebody needed to staple his fucking lips together!
She looked at him as if he were the crazy one. “Well, yeah. You’re on The Council, duh. You guys are the ones who know all this stuff. Like Bigfoot. And Area 51. And the One World Government.” She leaned closer. “Hardison said you probably have a decoder ring that translates secret messages from cell phone towers. And bus stops.”
He lifted an unsteady hand and ran shaking fingers through his hair. “Bus stops?” And how pissed would Nate be if he killed Hardison?
“All those strange numbers and letters on the buses,” she said with a shrug. “They have to mean something. Anyway,” she grabbed his arm and started pulling him to his feet, “we have to go find the right patch. And then stake it out on Halloween night. Ooh! We can wear badges! You know you like wearing those badges on chains!”
He was on his feet before he knew how it had happened. “Supper-”
“It’ll wait,” she assured him, dragging him out of the kitchen. “This is important. I need more candy for my piñatas.” She turned to smile at him. “I fixed the one you broke. I named him after you. He doesn’t hold a grudge.”
He had no explanation for the sound that escaped him at that, except that his brain was melting.
They reached the door just as it opened and Hardison walked in. The hacker stopped and looked at them, frowning slightly. Eliot looked a little … pale. And his left eye was twitching.
“’Sup, y’all,” he greeted, noting the death-grip Parker had on Eliot’s arm.
“Can’t talk,” Parker said. “Gotta go.”
He frowned, recognizing the strange glint in her eyes and feeling a chill ripple down his spine. “Uh, mind if I ask where?”
Eliot sighed and drew himself up to his full height, shaking his hair out of his face. “Pumpkin patch,” he explained. “Me and my decoder ring gotta track down the landing site for the Great Pumpkin. Council business.” He nodded toward Parker. “And she needs candy for her piñata army.”
Hardison blinked, then began backing away slowly. “Okay,” he breathed, wondering when, exactly, Eliot had snapped and how they’d missed seeing it coming. “Cool. Y’all … have fun.”
He had to call Nate …
Parker hissed and started pulling Eliot through the open door, but he stopped suddenly. “Oh, and Hardison?”
The hacker blinked. “Yeah?”
Eliot turned around and gave him an angelic smile. “When I get back, I’m gonna kill you.” The smile turned abruptly into a menacing scowl. “With my Batrope!” He glared a moment longer, then jerked his arm out of Parker’s grasp and stormed out the door, with Parker skipping after him.
And Hardison suddenly wondered how fast he could get out of the country.
The End
Eliot, Parker
Rating: PG-13ish (language)
A/N: Written for comment_fic.
Warnings: Crack. Parker crack.
Apologies: To Charles Schulz. And Eliot.
“Come on, Eliot!” Parker urged impatiently, grabbing the hitter’s arm and trying to drag him out of the kitchen. “We have to go! We’re running out of time!”
Eliot grit his teeth and dug in his heels, resisting Parker with his full strength. And, damn, that girl was strong! “No!” he growled, reaching out to latch onto the edge of the counter and anchoring himself in place. “I am not gonna help you find a place to wait for the Great Pumpkin!”
She exhaled sharply and released him suddenly, wincing as he flew backward and landed on his ass on the floor, his head colliding loudly with the cabinet behind him. “Oops, sorry,” she offered with another wince.
“Damn it, Parker!” he snarled, glaring at her as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his head. “That hurt!” Hell, half the concussions he was getting these days were because of her!
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” she sighed, rolling her eyes again and waving a dismissive hand at him. “You get hit harder than that all the time. Now, get up. We have to go-”
“Parker,” Eliot ground his teeth again, and swore he could hear enamel cracking, “there’s no. such. thing. as the Great Pumpkin. It’s a cartoon!”
She arched her brows and tipped her head to one side, folding her arms against her chest and fixing him with a stern stare. “That’s what people say about Santa. And Batman. And a free lunch.”
Eliot blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked again. Then lifted a hand to rub at his temple as his brain began to twist itself into knots. “F- free lunch?” he croaked, and mentally kicked himself. Shit, why did he always ask?
She smiled and shrugged. “People always say there’s no such thing as a free lunch.” Her smile brightened and widened. “But I eat free all the time.”
“Darlin’, I don’t think they’re talkin’ about stealin’ food,” he muttered weakly, and, damn, why was he explaining to the crazy girl?
Wait …
“Batman?” he asked. And, fuck, he was doing it again!
“Yeah. People say there’s no Batman.” She looked around, then went to him and dropped to her knees at his side, leaning close to him and saying in a low, conspiritorial voice, “It’s okay, Eliot. I won’t tell anybody your secret. Except Hardison. But he already knows. He told me. But we won’t tell anybody else. Unless it’s somebody who already knows.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Does Nate know? He knows everything. How about Sophie? She likes to look under people’s beds. Has she looked under your bed? Did she find-”
“Stop, please!” Eliot begged, bowing his head and closing his eyes tightly, trying to plug his ears and rub his temples at the same time. This was it. He’d been tortured by the best in the business over the years and had never broken. Now Parker was about to crack him open like an egg.
Somebody, somewhere, really needed to die for this. And-
Wait.
He slowly raised his head, flinching when he met Parker’s direct, earnest, and utterly insane gaze. “What secret?” he asked.
And why the fuck did he keep doing that?
She looked around again, then smiled and leaned closer still. “That you’re Batman,” she whispered loudly, nodding slowly.
He blinked, and his left eye started to twitch. Sure, why not. “Batman?”
She nodded again. “That’s what Hardison says. Because, you know, you can fight but you never use a gun, and you’re smart, even when you don’t show it, and you know a lot of really strange stuff. And when you’re not fighting bad guys, you’re a playboy. Oh, and you’re always in a bad mood. Hardison said it’s because somebody killed your parents in front of you in an alley. I’m sorry about that,” she said somberly, patting his shoulder in a gesture of consolation. “I guess I’d be in a bad mood, too. But, see, people think that because they see Batman in the cartoons or comic books or movies, he’s not real, but I know better. Because you’re him. Except you’re, you know, taller in the movies. And not you. And you dress better. But still-”
“Parker,” he breathed, reaching out to lay a hand gently over her mouth, “I need you to stop talking now. Please. It’s starting to hurt me.”
She rolled her eyes and reached up to remove his hand. “We have to go,” she insisted. “There are pumpkin patches all over town. We have to figure out which one-”
“I g- I gotta make supper,” he said weakly, silently reminding himself to add ibuprofin to the shopping list. In an industrial drum, if he could find it. “Take Hardison.”
Yeah, that was it. Geekboy thought he loved Lunatic Barbie, let him prove it.
She sighed heavily, her face settling into a mask of sorrow. “He can’t. Nate’s got him going through some accounts, something to do with Moreau.” She grimaced. “Nate’s getting kind of obsessed again.”
Eliot stared at her. If they didn’t find Moreau, Nate was going into some Italian dungeon, and they were all going to be killed. He kind of thought the obsession was warranted.
“Besides,” she added, brightening, “it has to be you. You know what to look for.”
His eye twitched again; what were the warning signs of stroke? “I- I do?”
God, seriously, somebody needed to staple his fucking lips together!
She looked at him as if he were the crazy one. “Well, yeah. You’re on The Council, duh. You guys are the ones who know all this stuff. Like Bigfoot. And Area 51. And the One World Government.” She leaned closer. “Hardison said you probably have a decoder ring that translates secret messages from cell phone towers. And bus stops.”
He lifted an unsteady hand and ran shaking fingers through his hair. “Bus stops?” And how pissed would Nate be if he killed Hardison?
“All those strange numbers and letters on the buses,” she said with a shrug. “They have to mean something. Anyway,” she grabbed his arm and started pulling him to his feet, “we have to go find the right patch. And then stake it out on Halloween night. Ooh! We can wear badges! You know you like wearing those badges on chains!”
He was on his feet before he knew how it had happened. “Supper-”
“It’ll wait,” she assured him, dragging him out of the kitchen. “This is important. I need more candy for my piñatas.” She turned to smile at him. “I fixed the one you broke. I named him after you. He doesn’t hold a grudge.”
He had no explanation for the sound that escaped him at that, except that his brain was melting.
They reached the door just as it opened and Hardison walked in. The hacker stopped and looked at them, frowning slightly. Eliot looked a little … pale. And his left eye was twitching.
“’Sup, y’all,” he greeted, noting the death-grip Parker had on Eliot’s arm.
“Can’t talk,” Parker said. “Gotta go.”
He frowned, recognizing the strange glint in her eyes and feeling a chill ripple down his spine. “Uh, mind if I ask where?”
Eliot sighed and drew himself up to his full height, shaking his hair out of his face. “Pumpkin patch,” he explained. “Me and my decoder ring gotta track down the landing site for the Great Pumpkin. Council business.” He nodded toward Parker. “And she needs candy for her piñata army.”
Hardison blinked, then began backing away slowly. “Okay,” he breathed, wondering when, exactly, Eliot had snapped and how they’d missed seeing it coming. “Cool. Y’all … have fun.”
He had to call Nate …
Parker hissed and started pulling Eliot through the open door, but he stopped suddenly. “Oh, and Hardison?”
The hacker blinked. “Yeah?”
Eliot turned around and gave him an angelic smile. “When I get back, I’m gonna kill you.” The smile turned abruptly into a menacing scowl. “With my Batrope!” He glared a moment longer, then jerked his arm out of Parker’s grasp and stormed out the door, with Parker skipping after him.
And Hardison suddenly wondered how fast he could get out of the country.
The End