Repost: Savoir Faire
Title: Savoir Faire
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Alec/Eliot/Parker (but you could easily read as gen)
Rating: PG-13
Notes: I wrote this way back when on 12/31 for a
random_fic_is_random challenge and am just getting around to posting.
"See, the key is a daring mix of flavors," Eliot declared as he drizzled a balsamic-raspberry reduction carefully over the plates of crostini.
"I thought the key was subtlety," Hardison interrupted, looking skeptically over Eliot's shoulder until Eliot jabbed a hand up and back, forearm catching Hardison in the shoulder.
"Dude. Don't crowd me."
"All right, all right…" Hardison held his hands up, slowly backing away.
"As I was saying. The key is a daring mix of flavors."
"Not subtlety."
"You saw how well subtlety went over with the fucking mafia bitch, Hardison, now shut up and listen. Gruyere," he declared, jabbing his finger at the plate. "Gorgonzola. Gouda."
"Sounds kind of like you just took a bunch of G cheeses and…"
Eliot silenced Parker with a glare, then gave her a suspicious look, tilting his head to the side. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Do that shit without the blood rushing to your head." Parker was hanging upside down from a light fixture. She shrugged. "Anyway. Like I was saying."
"Daring mix of flavors, we know. Looks like cheese toast to me."
"With a reduction, asshole. The reduction's important. It's all in how you plate it," Eliot declared, carefully balancing a sprig of mint on top of each little toast, frowning as his hand paused above the last, empty, plate.
"This tastes like shit," Parker mumbled around a mouthful, dropping out of the air and onto her feet on the kitchen island.
"Parker! How many times have I told you not to stand on the…"
"Man," Hardison exclaimed, holding up another crostini with a piece bitten off, laughing and shaking his head. "This really does taste like shit."
"Give me that," Eliot snarled, reaching to take his own taste. His face started out in its usual expression of neutral displeasure as he chewed, but then slowly morphed into a grimace before he projectile-spat into the trashcan a few yards away. "Motherfucker!"
"Well," Hardison laughed. "On the upside, at least you can kill someone with it."
"Yeah," Eliot agreed, turning slowly on his heel to fix Hardison with a cold smile. "And who do you think that's gonna be?"
"Hey now man, I…"
"Gotta run!" Parker chirped, and Eliot watched with a resigned sigh as the two of them went barrelling out of the window together. The more things change…
Originally Posted at Dreamwidth |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Alec/Eliot/Parker (but you could easily read as gen)
Rating: PG-13
Notes: I wrote this way back when on 12/31 for a
random_fic_is_random challenge and am just getting around to posting.
"See, the key is a daring mix of flavors," Eliot declared as he drizzled a balsamic-raspberry reduction carefully over the plates of crostini.
"I thought the key was subtlety," Hardison interrupted, looking skeptically over Eliot's shoulder until Eliot jabbed a hand up and back, forearm catching Hardison in the shoulder.
"Dude. Don't crowd me."
"All right, all right…" Hardison held his hands up, slowly backing away.
"As I was saying. The key is a daring mix of flavors."
"Not subtlety."
"You saw how well subtlety went over with the fucking mafia bitch, Hardison, now shut up and listen. Gruyere," he declared, jabbing his finger at the plate. "Gorgonzola. Gouda."
"Sounds kind of like you just took a bunch of G cheeses and…"
Eliot silenced Parker with a glare, then gave her a suspicious look, tilting his head to the side. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Do that shit without the blood rushing to your head." Parker was hanging upside down from a light fixture. She shrugged. "Anyway. Like I was saying."
"Daring mix of flavors, we know. Looks like cheese toast to me."
"With a reduction, asshole. The reduction's important. It's all in how you plate it," Eliot declared, carefully balancing a sprig of mint on top of each little toast, frowning as his hand paused above the last, empty, plate.
"This tastes like shit," Parker mumbled around a mouthful, dropping out of the air and onto her feet on the kitchen island.
"Parker! How many times have I told you not to stand on the…"
"Man," Hardison exclaimed, holding up another crostini with a piece bitten off, laughing and shaking his head. "This really does taste like shit."
"Give me that," Eliot snarled, reaching to take his own taste. His face started out in its usual expression of neutral displeasure as he chewed, but then slowly morphed into a grimace before he projectile-spat into the trashcan a few yards away. "Motherfucker!"
"Well," Hardison laughed. "On the upside, at least you can kill someone with it."
"Yeah," Eliot agreed, turning slowly on his heel to fix Hardison with a cold smile. "And who do you think that's gonna be?"
"Hey now man, I…"
"Gotta run!" Parker chirped, and Eliot watched with a resigned sigh as the two of them went barrelling out of the window together. The more things change…
Originally Posted at Dreamwidth |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth