Fic: A Little Downtime (Alec/Eliot, PG)
Title: A Little Downtime
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1342
Pairing: Alec/Eliot (pre-slash)
Spoilers: "The Gone Fishin' Job" 3.07
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: If they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless in every episode.
Summary: A missing scene that leads up to the final scene between Eliot and Alec in "The Gone Fishin' Job."
Notes: This was written for carinascott for the caperland Act of Kindness challenge.
“Dammit!”
Alec ducked, just in time to miss the icepack as it flew through the room and landed with a thud against the floor on by the door.
“Would you watch what you’re doing, man?” Alec said. “That almost took my head off. “ Muttering, he added, “Good thing I have lightning-fast reflexes.”
Glaring at him, Eliot slammed the refrigerator door. With a groan, he dragged over to the kitchen table, lowered himself into a chair, and put his head down on his arms.
Eliot looked threadbare and exhausted, and as much as Alec wanted to stay mad at him, he felt a tinge of sympathy. Their last job hadn’t exactly been a cakewalk for either of them, but Eliot seemed to land a little harder than him when the cigarette bomb when off.
Letting out a breath, Alec asked, “You all right, man?”
Eliot didn’t lift his head off his arms. “No, Hardison,” he groused. “I’m not all right. I’m tired. I’m sore. And I don’t even have an icepack, ‘cause they’re all melted.”
“Well,” Alec said. “It ain’t gonna get cold lying over there on the floor.”
“Really?” Eliot snapped. “I didn’t know that.”
Alec shook his head and returned to his laptop. “You’re cranky is what you are,” he said.
The truth of the matter is that Eliot had been crankier than usual lately, snapping at people, decapitating piñatas, and even hurling a box of popcorn across the room when his fingers fumbled too long on the flap of the box. He was exhausted and punchy, and they all knew that-he’d been complaining loudly and often enough about their schedule that no one could possibly miss his feelings on the matter.
And he had a point. Nate had been insisting on a rapid-fire succession of jobs with little or no breaks in-between for the past few months. For Alec, it was annoying and meant a little less sleep and less time with video games than he might like. For Eliot, whose job was intensely physical and often resulted in injury, it was probably grueling.
They all laughed or rolled their eyes when Eliot complained about how hard his job was or about how much he hurt or about how tired he was. It was easy to dismiss the complaints as part of Eliot’s trademark gruffness. But there was no mistaking that Eliot was moving more slowly than usual or that he seemed to be running through icepacks like wildfire.
Eliot sat up and rubbed his eyes. “My head feels like it’s in a vice grip,” he said. “And my shoulder hurts again. It’s gonna be stiff tomorrow.”
“You take something for it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But it isn’t helping.”
Alec gazed at him for a moment, then shut his laptop. Nate was probably never going to say anything about Eliot’s condition, so Alec figured he’d take the initiative. Standing up and walking around to Eliot’s side of the table, he said, “Let me look at your shoulder.”
Eliot let out a dry laugh. “You’re not looking at my shoulder, man.”
“What, you gonna burst into flames? Take your damn shirt off.”
After gazing at Alec with a looked that wavered between pissed off and amused, Eliot pulled off his flannel shirt, then tugged at his t-shirt, wincing as he pulled it over his head. Once the shirt was off, Alec leaned forward and gingerly touched Eliot’s bruised and angry red left shoulder.
“You hurt it in the explosion?”
Shaking his head, Eliot said, “No, I did it in Juarez. It’s been dislocated a couple times. It gets hurt easier than the rest of me.”
Alec started to ask Eliot why he hadn’t said anything, but then he remembered that Eliot had bitched about needing some time off (while pressing an icepack to the currently injured shoulder). And he’d also opted for what should have been the easiest part of the job.
Leaning against the table, Alec said, “I could go down and get some ice from the bar.”
“Nah, that’s all right.” Eliot ran his fingers through his hair. “I just need some rest.”
“Well,” Alec said. “You go upstairs and crash in Nate’s bed, and I’m gonna go get you some ice from the bar. “
“I won’t be able to sleep,” Eliot said.
“Well, you can stretch out and relax.”
Letting out a breath, Eliot rose unsteadily to his feet. “Maybe for a minute.”
Alec put his hand on Eliot’s good shoulder. “Hey, Eliot,” he said. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go fishing,” Alec said.
Eliot rubbed his eyes and started to move toward the stairs leading to Nate’s bedroom. “Doesn’t matter,” he said.
Alec watched Eliot trudge up the stairs. For the first time since Alec had known him, Eliot looked…defeated. After Eliot disappeared up the last couple of stairs, Alec hurried to the bar for a baggie full of ice. He carried it up to Nate’s bedroom, only to find Eliot sound asleep, his face buried in a pillow.
***
A couple days later, Alec met Eliot at the door to Nate’s apartment. “I have good news and bad news,” he said, grinning. “And some more good news.”
“Just tell me what you wanna tell me,” Eliot said. He looked more rested than he had in a while, but he was still moving slowly.
“I told Nate-and Sophie backed me up-that we need a few more days downtime. And he agreed.”
Eliot looked impressed. “Really? Well, okay.”
“The bad news is that he’s still pissed about the train,” Alec said. “So we’re kind of grounded to Boston. But I figure we can make the best of it. Follow me.” Alec motioned for Eliot to follow him into Nate’s apartment. Once inside, he led Eliot to a makeshift fishing spot he had thrown together in the middle of the floor.
“What is this?” Eliot asked, arching an eyebrow.
He handed Eliot one of the fishing rod controllers. “See, it’s all virtual. We got us a nice lake full of fish just waiting to be caught.”
Eliot looked at the controller like it might shatter in his hand. “Seriously?”
Alec picked up the other controller and demonstrated how to use it. “It works just like a real fishing rod. See?” He gestured around him. “We have everything we need to have us an indoor fishing trip!”
“Except real fish.”
“We don’t need real fish,” Alec said. “We have little chairs and an umbrella and a cooler full of drinks. Plus, here’s a thermos full of coffee, and I have pizza in the kitchen.”
Biting his lip as though he were trying not to grin, Eliot said, “Pizza’s not fishing food.”
“It is today!” Alec said “I could always call ‘em back and get one with anchovies.”
Eliot made a face. “No thanks.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t like anchovies. Oh, one more thing,” Alec said. He reached down and scooped up a fishing hat, complete with lures and gingerly laid it on Eliot’s head. “There. Now we can fish.”
Eliot hesitated for a moment, then he lowered himself into one of the camp chairs and tugged the hat down snugly onto his head. He reached into the cooler and pulled out a beer, glancing around like he was trying to scope out his environment. “Where’s Nate gonna be during all of this?”
“Flew out to research a client. He’ll be back tomorrow.” Sitting down in the other chair, he cocked his head at Eliot. “Look, E,” he said. “I know this isn’t the real thing, but I figured it would do until you can go fishing for real.”
“We.”
“What?”
“Until we can go fishing for real.” He popped open the cooler and handed Alec and orange soda. “I didn’t just want to fish, man. I wanted to spend some time with you, too.”
Alec’s suddenly felt warm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Eliot took a sip of beer, then gazed at the virtual lake that covered the wall. “Hey, Hardison? Thanks for this.”
“Anytime, man.”
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1342
Pairing: Alec/Eliot (pre-slash)
Spoilers: "The Gone Fishin' Job" 3.07
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: If they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless in every episode.
Summary: A missing scene that leads up to the final scene between Eliot and Alec in "The Gone Fishin' Job."
Notes: This was written for carinascott for the caperland Act of Kindness challenge.
“Dammit!”
Alec ducked, just in time to miss the icepack as it flew through the room and landed with a thud against the floor on by the door.
“Would you watch what you’re doing, man?” Alec said. “That almost took my head off. “ Muttering, he added, “Good thing I have lightning-fast reflexes.”
Glaring at him, Eliot slammed the refrigerator door. With a groan, he dragged over to the kitchen table, lowered himself into a chair, and put his head down on his arms.
Eliot looked threadbare and exhausted, and as much as Alec wanted to stay mad at him, he felt a tinge of sympathy. Their last job hadn’t exactly been a cakewalk for either of them, but Eliot seemed to land a little harder than him when the cigarette bomb when off.
Letting out a breath, Alec asked, “You all right, man?”
Eliot didn’t lift his head off his arms. “No, Hardison,” he groused. “I’m not all right. I’m tired. I’m sore. And I don’t even have an icepack, ‘cause they’re all melted.”
“Well,” Alec said. “It ain’t gonna get cold lying over there on the floor.”
“Really?” Eliot snapped. “I didn’t know that.”
Alec shook his head and returned to his laptop. “You’re cranky is what you are,” he said.
The truth of the matter is that Eliot had been crankier than usual lately, snapping at people, decapitating piñatas, and even hurling a box of popcorn across the room when his fingers fumbled too long on the flap of the box. He was exhausted and punchy, and they all knew that-he’d been complaining loudly and often enough about their schedule that no one could possibly miss his feelings on the matter.
And he had a point. Nate had been insisting on a rapid-fire succession of jobs with little or no breaks in-between for the past few months. For Alec, it was annoying and meant a little less sleep and less time with video games than he might like. For Eliot, whose job was intensely physical and often resulted in injury, it was probably grueling.
They all laughed or rolled their eyes when Eliot complained about how hard his job was or about how much he hurt or about how tired he was. It was easy to dismiss the complaints as part of Eliot’s trademark gruffness. But there was no mistaking that Eliot was moving more slowly than usual or that he seemed to be running through icepacks like wildfire.
Eliot sat up and rubbed his eyes. “My head feels like it’s in a vice grip,” he said. “And my shoulder hurts again. It’s gonna be stiff tomorrow.”
“You take something for it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But it isn’t helping.”
Alec gazed at him for a moment, then shut his laptop. Nate was probably never going to say anything about Eliot’s condition, so Alec figured he’d take the initiative. Standing up and walking around to Eliot’s side of the table, he said, “Let me look at your shoulder.”
Eliot let out a dry laugh. “You’re not looking at my shoulder, man.”
“What, you gonna burst into flames? Take your damn shirt off.”
After gazing at Alec with a looked that wavered between pissed off and amused, Eliot pulled off his flannel shirt, then tugged at his t-shirt, wincing as he pulled it over his head. Once the shirt was off, Alec leaned forward and gingerly touched Eliot’s bruised and angry red left shoulder.
“You hurt it in the explosion?”
Shaking his head, Eliot said, “No, I did it in Juarez. It’s been dislocated a couple times. It gets hurt easier than the rest of me.”
Alec started to ask Eliot why he hadn’t said anything, but then he remembered that Eliot had bitched about needing some time off (while pressing an icepack to the currently injured shoulder). And he’d also opted for what should have been the easiest part of the job.
Leaning against the table, Alec said, “I could go down and get some ice from the bar.”
“Nah, that’s all right.” Eliot ran his fingers through his hair. “I just need some rest.”
“Well,” Alec said. “You go upstairs and crash in Nate’s bed, and I’m gonna go get you some ice from the bar. “
“I won’t be able to sleep,” Eliot said.
“Well, you can stretch out and relax.”
Letting out a breath, Eliot rose unsteadily to his feet. “Maybe for a minute.”
Alec put his hand on Eliot’s good shoulder. “Hey, Eliot,” he said. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go fishing,” Alec said.
Eliot rubbed his eyes and started to move toward the stairs leading to Nate’s bedroom. “Doesn’t matter,” he said.
Alec watched Eliot trudge up the stairs. For the first time since Alec had known him, Eliot looked…defeated. After Eliot disappeared up the last couple of stairs, Alec hurried to the bar for a baggie full of ice. He carried it up to Nate’s bedroom, only to find Eliot sound asleep, his face buried in a pillow.
***
A couple days later, Alec met Eliot at the door to Nate’s apartment. “I have good news and bad news,” he said, grinning. “And some more good news.”
“Just tell me what you wanna tell me,” Eliot said. He looked more rested than he had in a while, but he was still moving slowly.
“I told Nate-and Sophie backed me up-that we need a few more days downtime. And he agreed.”
Eliot looked impressed. “Really? Well, okay.”
“The bad news is that he’s still pissed about the train,” Alec said. “So we’re kind of grounded to Boston. But I figure we can make the best of it. Follow me.” Alec motioned for Eliot to follow him into Nate’s apartment. Once inside, he led Eliot to a makeshift fishing spot he had thrown together in the middle of the floor.
“What is this?” Eliot asked, arching an eyebrow.
He handed Eliot one of the fishing rod controllers. “See, it’s all virtual. We got us a nice lake full of fish just waiting to be caught.”
Eliot looked at the controller like it might shatter in his hand. “Seriously?”
Alec picked up the other controller and demonstrated how to use it. “It works just like a real fishing rod. See?” He gestured around him. “We have everything we need to have us an indoor fishing trip!”
“Except real fish.”
“We don’t need real fish,” Alec said. “We have little chairs and an umbrella and a cooler full of drinks. Plus, here’s a thermos full of coffee, and I have pizza in the kitchen.”
Biting his lip as though he were trying not to grin, Eliot said, “Pizza’s not fishing food.”
“It is today!” Alec said “I could always call ‘em back and get one with anchovies.”
Eliot made a face. “No thanks.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t like anchovies. Oh, one more thing,” Alec said. He reached down and scooped up a fishing hat, complete with lures and gingerly laid it on Eliot’s head. “There. Now we can fish.”
Eliot hesitated for a moment, then he lowered himself into one of the camp chairs and tugged the hat down snugly onto his head. He reached into the cooler and pulled out a beer, glancing around like he was trying to scope out his environment. “Where’s Nate gonna be during all of this?”
“Flew out to research a client. He’ll be back tomorrow.” Sitting down in the other chair, he cocked his head at Eliot. “Look, E,” he said. “I know this isn’t the real thing, but I figured it would do until you can go fishing for real.”
“We.”
“What?”
“Until we can go fishing for real.” He popped open the cooler and handed Alec and orange soda. “I didn’t just want to fish, man. I wanted to spend some time with you, too.”
Alec’s suddenly felt warm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Eliot took a sip of beer, then gazed at the virtual lake that covered the wall. “Hey, Hardison? Thanks for this.”
“Anytime, man.”