Leverage Fic: "Better than Home Made" 1/1
Title: Better than Home Made
Fandom: Leverage
Characters/Pairings: Parker+Eliot
Author: evil_little_dog
Words: 570
Rating: K+
Summary: Eliot’s sick, and Parker decides she needs to take care of him.
Warnings: Isn’t Parker and the idea of her cooking warning enough?
Disclaimer: So don’t own anything to do with this.
Prompt: any, any, a character makes chicken soup for their sick friend, lover, or family member. for iceybreath
X X X
“Are you sick?” Parker leaned really close to Eliot, peering into his eyes. “You look sick. You’re all pasty and sweaty and,” she stuck her tongue out, making a face, “bleah.”
“I’m not sick, Parker,” Eliot growled, looking like he wanted to bite her, but Parker knew better, Eliot would never bite her. Well, maybe if she asked him to, but that was something to think about some other time, because right now, he wasn’t even growling as loud as he normally did.
She took a deliberate sniff. “You smell funny, too.”
“I do not - Parker, stop sniffing me! You’re not a dog!”
No, she wasn’t, but sometimes, Eliot reminded her of one, a big dog that pretended like it was really mean, but just wanted someone to rub it behind the ears or pat its belly. “I think you’re sick.”
“What if I am?” He hunched over the table in the bar, not even touching his beer.
“I’m going to make you chicken soup!”
Eliot’s eyes got really big, a lot bigger than Parker ever thought they could get. “No. No, Parker, that’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”
“I do! You’re my friend, and you’re sick, so you get chicken soup! Come on, you need to get upstairs, and you can rest there, while I cook!” Before he could say anything else, Parker squatted next to his chair, grabbing his arm and throwing it around her shoulders. “Hupsy daisy!” she grunted, trying to stand up. Eliot got up with her, and he was heavy, and Parker huffed and puffed but she pulled him up the stairs and to Nate’s apartment, or what would’ve been Nate’s apartment if he wasn’t in jail right now. She made Eliot sit down on the couch, and went into the kitchen, rummaging around in there.
“There’s no chicken in the kitchen, Parker,” Eliot said, but Parker ignored him, she knew what she was doing. She took a pot out of the cabinet, and hummed loud enough to ignore whatever else Eliot grumbled behind her. He finally shut up, and Parker smiled, and worked on making Eliot soup.
X X X
“Eliot. Psst. Are you still alive?”
He wasn’t sure, actually, but opened his eyes with a groan. “Parker?” There were two of her, grinning and spinning in front of him. Eliot blinked a couple of times, and the images resolved themselves into one Parker. Thank God. “Yeah,” he said belatedly. “I’m alive.” It didn’t really feel like it, though; his head ached, and his throat hurt, and he was pretty sure he had a fever.
“Good.” Parker dimpled and offered him a cup. “I made you chicken soup!”
Shifting himself to a more upright position, though it felt like he listed sideways, Eliot accepted the steaming mug. He couldn’t smell anything, but steam rose off the liquid inside the cup, so he blew across it, and took a taste.
It took a lot not to spit the stuff across the room. “Parker?”
“Uh, huh?” She almost bounced in place. “Do you like it?”
“Uh…what is this?”
“Chicken soup, silly!” Parker grinned even more.
If the cup wasn’t so nice and warm in his hands, he’d set it down. “Parker, I don’t know what this is, but it’s not chicken soup.”
“It is too, Eliot!” Parker pouted. “It said it right there, on the box. ‘Chicken Soup, just add water’!”
She wished she knew why Eliot groaned like that.
X X X
Fandom: Leverage
Characters/Pairings: Parker+Eliot
Author: evil_little_dog
Words: 570
Rating: K+
Summary: Eliot’s sick, and Parker decides she needs to take care of him.
Warnings: Isn’t Parker and the idea of her cooking warning enough?
Disclaimer: So don’t own anything to do with this.
Prompt: any, any, a character makes chicken soup for their sick friend, lover, or family member. for iceybreath
X X X
“Are you sick?” Parker leaned really close to Eliot, peering into his eyes. “You look sick. You’re all pasty and sweaty and,” she stuck her tongue out, making a face, “bleah.”
“I’m not sick, Parker,” Eliot growled, looking like he wanted to bite her, but Parker knew better, Eliot would never bite her. Well, maybe if she asked him to, but that was something to think about some other time, because right now, he wasn’t even growling as loud as he normally did.
She took a deliberate sniff. “You smell funny, too.”
“I do not - Parker, stop sniffing me! You’re not a dog!”
No, she wasn’t, but sometimes, Eliot reminded her of one, a big dog that pretended like it was really mean, but just wanted someone to rub it behind the ears or pat its belly. “I think you’re sick.”
“What if I am?” He hunched over the table in the bar, not even touching his beer.
“I’m going to make you chicken soup!”
Eliot’s eyes got really big, a lot bigger than Parker ever thought they could get. “No. No, Parker, that’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”
“I do! You’re my friend, and you’re sick, so you get chicken soup! Come on, you need to get upstairs, and you can rest there, while I cook!” Before he could say anything else, Parker squatted next to his chair, grabbing his arm and throwing it around her shoulders. “Hupsy daisy!” she grunted, trying to stand up. Eliot got up with her, and he was heavy, and Parker huffed and puffed but she pulled him up the stairs and to Nate’s apartment, or what would’ve been Nate’s apartment if he wasn’t in jail right now. She made Eliot sit down on the couch, and went into the kitchen, rummaging around in there.
“There’s no chicken in the kitchen, Parker,” Eliot said, but Parker ignored him, she knew what she was doing. She took a pot out of the cabinet, and hummed loud enough to ignore whatever else Eliot grumbled behind her. He finally shut up, and Parker smiled, and worked on making Eliot soup.
X X X
“Eliot. Psst. Are you still alive?”
He wasn’t sure, actually, but opened his eyes with a groan. “Parker?” There were two of her, grinning and spinning in front of him. Eliot blinked a couple of times, and the images resolved themselves into one Parker. Thank God. “Yeah,” he said belatedly. “I’m alive.” It didn’t really feel like it, though; his head ached, and his throat hurt, and he was pretty sure he had a fever.
“Good.” Parker dimpled and offered him a cup. “I made you chicken soup!”
Shifting himself to a more upright position, though it felt like he listed sideways, Eliot accepted the steaming mug. He couldn’t smell anything, but steam rose off the liquid inside the cup, so he blew across it, and took a taste.
It took a lot not to spit the stuff across the room. “Parker?”
“Uh, huh?” She almost bounced in place. “Do you like it?”
“Uh…what is this?”
“Chicken soup, silly!” Parker grinned even more.
If the cup wasn’t so nice and warm in his hands, he’d set it down. “Parker, I don’t know what this is, but it’s not chicken soup.”
“It is too, Eliot!” Parker pouted. “It said it right there, on the box. ‘Chicken Soup, just add water’!”
She wished she knew why Eliot groaned like that.
X X X