Original: "Ockham's Razor." Slash
If I lived in Casablanca, it would totally be Sunday right now, and so I'm posting this now before I get all wrapped up in studying for ridiculous summer classes and forget to post.
I blame this entirely on mechante_fille. And Damon. It's definitely all their faults. Not Eli's. He's just a poor bystander in this whole mess. Also: I'm pretty sure this is the last round of characters that I'll be playing with in my SUPERHERO verse.
This thing is most definitely over the word count as well (I almost certainly went skipping blindly right by it at some point), but we're going to pretend that I did it to compensate because there's only a couple of us posting right now, so I have to make up for it. That works, right?
Anyway, here's to hoping that more people will be joining me in posting this Sunday, as I see Magistra already has :]
Summary: If Eli had known saving a single kid could change his life that completely...well, he probably wouldn't have changed a damn thing.
Eli could feel Damon watching him. He always did when he was on the floor, but Eli could feel his stare like a physical thing, searing through him. He couldn’t look up, though. If he looked up, he just knew that everyone would be able to tell.
His heart was in his throat and he struggled to keep his breathing even, skin feeling tight and far too hot. Involuntarily, his eyes flicked up, immediately caught by Damon’s piercing gaze. Sharp gray eyes held his across the room, the super leaning back against his coordinator’s desk, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other tapping out an impatient rhythm on the desk that his coordinator kept eyeing nervously.
Damon’s mouth curved up in a smirk that Eli knew all too well, and he had to breathe deeply to keep his bland smile in place, relieved that he wasn’t generally given to blushing. That smirk was full of promise.
Schooling his features was second-nature by now, and he settled his mask as he maintained eye contact.
Inexplicably, Damon’s smirk simply widened, teeth flashing white against deeply tanned skin. Behind him, his coordinator was stuttering out what was no doubt his schedule for the day, but Damon didn’t even spare him a glance, still holding Eli’s gaze, though he knew the super was making careful note of every word he was pretending to ignore.
Resolutely, Eli dropped his gaze, claiming the small victory of being able to break away, though the itch to look back up was strong.
Inwardly rolling his eyes at himself, he peeked up through his lashes, completely unsurprised to find Damon still smirking at him. This time, he rolled his eyes outwardly, corners of his mouth quirking up out of his bland smile as he focused on his desk again.
He was hyperaware of the sound of the super crossing the floor, thick-soled boots firmly making their way past his desk.
Eli didn’t react as the note appeared at the edge of his desk, waiting for the sound of the locker room doors closing before reaching up casually to snag the folded piece of paper.
Eli glanced around surreptitiously, assuring himself that no one was looking before carefully unfolding the note.
A promise made is a promise kept,
It’s far too long since we have slept
Side by side, you in my arms
Showing off your grace and charms
So, please, tonight when work is done
Come find our bed ‘fore the morning sun
Eli rolled his eyes, because Damon was an obnoxious twerp who played more games than Eli could keep with up with sometimes. Despite that, Eli smoothed the note out carefully, putting it into the portfolio that would go home with him, so he could add it to his ever-growing collection later that night.
Stashing it until then, he turned back to his desk. It was several moments before he realized he’d picked up his pen and hadn’t written a word, staring unseeingly at the ledger in front of him.
It seemed like he’d met Damon age ago, but it had only been a couple of years. Sometimes, it just seemed like they’d been together much longer than that. It had only taken a single night for things to change everything so completely.
The sun had barely set and he’d only just gotten off of work, an uneventful evening alone ahead of him. He strolled leisurely down the main street, enjoying the breezes that cooled off the worst of the end-of-summer heat. The last couple evening shad been almost unbearable on his walk home, but it looked like autumn had finally decided to hurry it on up.
This walk was usually interminable, filled with the shuffling feet and distant looks as other people made their own ways home through the city, some of them passingly familiar after years of this shared commute.
The shout caught his attention almost more because it was so out of the norm than because he could hear it that clearly. Eli was moving before his brain had caught up, feet carrying him down a side street, ears straining for another shout. He broke into a jog when it came again, the sound a cross between fury and fear, and quite young on top of that.
He knew he was coming up on the right alleyway before he could see into it, the grunts of a large man nearly covering the sound of now muffled shouts.
Without thinking about it too much, he stepped into the mouth of the alleyway, his shadow stretching out in front of him, both of them adopting a wide, bent-kneed stance, arms held loosely at their sides. Taking stock quickly - a man in a truck leaning out the driver’s window impatiently, a young boy kicking and struggling, and the two large men trying to subdue him - Eli strolled forward a few paces, eyebrow arching when they seemed not to notice him at all.
Feeling a little self-conscious, he cleared his throat, resisting the urge to smirk as the three men froze and turned to stare at him. “I get the distinct feeling that he doesn’t want to go with you,” he remarked faux-casually, taking slow, creeping steps closer to the group.
The two men holding the boy looked at each other, visibly trying to figure out how to respond. The little boy, however, needed no such time, using their distraction to his advantage, struggling anew and bucking with renewed energy. Taken by surprise, grips stupidly slack, the boy managed to wriggle free.
Eli’s brows shot up as the boy simply ran to stand behind him, more than a little surprised by the boy’s wherewithal.
The two men turned to him with dumbfounded expressions and he had a moment to wonder when he’d stopped carrying his collapsible baton, before one of them had recovered enough to start advancing on him.
Eli got in a couple of punches, worrying as the second man started creeping forward in his periphery, when both suddenly stumbled back, faces going completely white, the man still in the truck trying to inconspicuously sink out of view. He belatedly noticed the large shadow that had joined his, the tail not tied to anything. He looked over his shoulder, affirming that it was a superhero that hovered behind him.
It was over in a matter of minutes, the three men cleaned up with astonishing efficiency and deposited into the back of their own truck. With a satisfied nod, Razor’s Edge finally came to land in front of them.
“Daddy!”
The little boy pushed past Eli to throw himself at the super, quieting immediately when he picked the boy up. “Alright, Jordan?” came the low question from behind the cowl.
The little boy - Jordan - nodded solemnly, pointing to where Eli stood, a touch nonplussed. “He came to save me before you got here.”
“So he did. I believe he works in my office too. Don’t you?” Razor’s Edge’s mirrored gaze swung around in his direction.
Eli had a single moment where he could hear nothing but the blood rushing in his ears, before he brought himself sharply under control. “I do,” he affirmed calmly. “My name is Eli, Mr. Edge.”
Razor’s Edge snorted, suddenly seeming much less intimidating. “Eli, then. Thank you, for helping my son. I can’t possibly repay you.”
Eli suddenly had the distinct feeling of floating. He’d never thought to talk to Razor’s Edge in his life, let alone like this. He could feel himself flushing, but whether from terror or pleasure at the thanks he couldn’t tell. “I-” He had to clear his throat self-consciously before he could continue. “It seems only fair. You spend all day saving other people’s families; there should be someone around when your own family needs a little help.” He nodded toward the back of the truck. “Besides, you did all the heavy lifting.”
With his half-mask, Eli could see as Razor’s Edge’s lips quirked up for just a moment, before he turned to look at Jordan, worrying at his lower lip slightly. “I wouldn’t have gotten here at all if the police hadn’t thought to call The Firm after the babysitter called them.” He sighed quietly. “I’m probably going to have to find a new sitter now.”
He gnawed on his lip again, looking at Jordan. “And what am I going to do with you now?” he asked, mostly, it seemed, to himself.
Eli wasn’t sure the super realized he was there, but he spoke up anyway. “I could take him.” The masked gaze snapped up to take him in. He just shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t have a sitter, your house is probably compromised, and you’re still patrolling. You’ve only got a couple options that I can see.” He took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “You take him to the office and leave him there, you call in sick and try to get someone to cover, or I can take him to my home and you can pick him up when you get off.”
He watched Razor’s Edge gnaw on his lip for a moment longer, before he added, “I really don’t mind; I wasn’t going to do anything else with my evening.” He would’ve winced if he’d realized how sad that sounded, but he was too focused on appearing steady.
Eli could see the moment the super gave in, already reaching for the pen and paper in the folio he’d abandoned at the mouth of the alley, as Razor’s Edge began, “I really can’t thank you enough. And if you need me for anything at all, I’ll tell my coordinator to send the call straight through to me. And I’ll-”
“Relax,” Eli ordered gently. “You only have a couple hours left of your patrol and I grew up in a large family. I’m an excellent sitter.”
Slowly, because Razor’s Edge might look on the verge of wringing his hands, but he was still rather infamous so far as supers went, Eli took Jordan, giving Razor’s Edge the scrap of paper with his address hastily scrawled on it. “I’ll see you when you get off.”
Razor’s Edge threw him a brief smirk but said nothing, merely turned to the three kidnappers still trussed up in the back of the truck as Eli made his way from the alley and started home.
The eleven o’clock train had just rumbled past when the knock he’d been waiting for came at his door. Jordan was fast asleep in his den, and he’d been in the dining room, pouring over the work he’d brought home from the office.
Eli opened the door to find Razor’s Edge, as expected, dressed in civvies comprised of a dark blue polo tucked into impeccably pressed khakis. He’d obviously taken the time to fix his hair after removing his cowl, though Eli could still see the faint outline from where it sat across his cheekbones.
He blinked several times, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with one finger, before stepping back and gesturing in. “Come in, Mr. Edge. Jordan’s just in the other room.”
Razor’s Edge stepped in, crowding into his personal space in a way Eli suspected was not strictly necessary. “All things considered, you should call me Damon.” His voice wasn’t much changed from when he wore his mask, a deep growl that Eli was sure normally sounded intimidating but now sounded anything but. “All things considered, you should also let me take you out for dinner sometime…as a thank you.”
Eli’s apartment was small, the foyer opening directly into the kitchen, and he backed into it, stopping when he had the kitchen’s island at his back. “That’s very kind of you, but I assure you, it was no trouble.” He stuttered slightly on the last part as Damon slunk into the kitchen, all lethal grace as he approached Eli like he was stalking some poor unsuspecting prey.
“But I simply must thank you properly,” the words were a cross between a growl and a purr. “Surely you won’t deny me that chance.” He was still slowly approaching Eli, and the coordinator could feel his heartbeat kick up a notch.
“I couldn’t possibly let you thank me for something anyone should have done. Besides, it would be entirely improper, considering we work at the same office.” He wondered rather absently if his voice sounded as high-pitched as he thought it did.
Damon stepped into Eli’s space, hands braced on the island on either side of him. “Oh, but I insist.”
Eli’s heart hammered, though certainly not from fright. For a single, breathless moment, he thought Damon was going to grab him close and kiss him.
Instead, Damon backed up a few scant inches, suddenly making it much easier to breathe, though he choked slightly as the super brought one of Eli’s hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across knuckles that Eli couldn’t quite figure out how he’d appropriated. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, at seven. I want to show you how truly…appreciative, I am.”
He finished with a smirk, suddenly gone as he collected a sleep-ruffled Jordan and made his way out, tipping a final, parting wink at Eli, where he still slumped, bewildered and bemused, against the kitchen island.
Shaking his head slightly, wondering if he’d gone insane and if it might not be the best thing that had ever happened to him, Eli went into the dining room, pulled out his planner, and carefully penciled in: Friday night, seven o’clock, date with Damon.
I blame this entirely on mechante_fille. And Damon. It's definitely all their faults. Not Eli's. He's just a poor bystander in this whole mess. Also: I'm pretty sure this is the last round of characters that I'll be playing with in my SUPERHERO verse.
This thing is most definitely over the word count as well (I almost certainly went skipping blindly right by it at some point), but we're going to pretend that I did it to compensate because there's only a couple of us posting right now, so I have to make up for it. That works, right?
Anyway, here's to hoping that more people will be joining me in posting this Sunday, as I see Magistra already has :]
Summary: If Eli had known saving a single kid could change his life that completely...well, he probably wouldn't have changed a damn thing.
Eli could feel Damon watching him. He always did when he was on the floor, but Eli could feel his stare like a physical thing, searing through him. He couldn’t look up, though. If he looked up, he just knew that everyone would be able to tell.
His heart was in his throat and he struggled to keep his breathing even, skin feeling tight and far too hot. Involuntarily, his eyes flicked up, immediately caught by Damon’s piercing gaze. Sharp gray eyes held his across the room, the super leaning back against his coordinator’s desk, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other tapping out an impatient rhythm on the desk that his coordinator kept eyeing nervously.
Damon’s mouth curved up in a smirk that Eli knew all too well, and he had to breathe deeply to keep his bland smile in place, relieved that he wasn’t generally given to blushing. That smirk was full of promise.
Schooling his features was second-nature by now, and he settled his mask as he maintained eye contact.
Inexplicably, Damon’s smirk simply widened, teeth flashing white against deeply tanned skin. Behind him, his coordinator was stuttering out what was no doubt his schedule for the day, but Damon didn’t even spare him a glance, still holding Eli’s gaze, though he knew the super was making careful note of every word he was pretending to ignore.
Resolutely, Eli dropped his gaze, claiming the small victory of being able to break away, though the itch to look back up was strong.
Inwardly rolling his eyes at himself, he peeked up through his lashes, completely unsurprised to find Damon still smirking at him. This time, he rolled his eyes outwardly, corners of his mouth quirking up out of his bland smile as he focused on his desk again.
He was hyperaware of the sound of the super crossing the floor, thick-soled boots firmly making their way past his desk.
Eli didn’t react as the note appeared at the edge of his desk, waiting for the sound of the locker room doors closing before reaching up casually to snag the folded piece of paper.
Eli glanced around surreptitiously, assuring himself that no one was looking before carefully unfolding the note.
A promise made is a promise kept,
It’s far too long since we have slept
Side by side, you in my arms
Showing off your grace and charms
So, please, tonight when work is done
Come find our bed ‘fore the morning sun
Eli rolled his eyes, because Damon was an obnoxious twerp who played more games than Eli could keep with up with sometimes. Despite that, Eli smoothed the note out carefully, putting it into the portfolio that would go home with him, so he could add it to his ever-growing collection later that night.
Stashing it until then, he turned back to his desk. It was several moments before he realized he’d picked up his pen and hadn’t written a word, staring unseeingly at the ledger in front of him.
It seemed like he’d met Damon age ago, but it had only been a couple of years. Sometimes, it just seemed like they’d been together much longer than that. It had only taken a single night for things to change everything so completely.
The sun had barely set and he’d only just gotten off of work, an uneventful evening alone ahead of him. He strolled leisurely down the main street, enjoying the breezes that cooled off the worst of the end-of-summer heat. The last couple evening shad been almost unbearable on his walk home, but it looked like autumn had finally decided to hurry it on up.
This walk was usually interminable, filled with the shuffling feet and distant looks as other people made their own ways home through the city, some of them passingly familiar after years of this shared commute.
The shout caught his attention almost more because it was so out of the norm than because he could hear it that clearly. Eli was moving before his brain had caught up, feet carrying him down a side street, ears straining for another shout. He broke into a jog when it came again, the sound a cross between fury and fear, and quite young on top of that.
He knew he was coming up on the right alleyway before he could see into it, the grunts of a large man nearly covering the sound of now muffled shouts.
Without thinking about it too much, he stepped into the mouth of the alleyway, his shadow stretching out in front of him, both of them adopting a wide, bent-kneed stance, arms held loosely at their sides. Taking stock quickly - a man in a truck leaning out the driver’s window impatiently, a young boy kicking and struggling, and the two large men trying to subdue him - Eli strolled forward a few paces, eyebrow arching when they seemed not to notice him at all.
Feeling a little self-conscious, he cleared his throat, resisting the urge to smirk as the three men froze and turned to stare at him. “I get the distinct feeling that he doesn’t want to go with you,” he remarked faux-casually, taking slow, creeping steps closer to the group.
The two men holding the boy looked at each other, visibly trying to figure out how to respond. The little boy, however, needed no such time, using their distraction to his advantage, struggling anew and bucking with renewed energy. Taken by surprise, grips stupidly slack, the boy managed to wriggle free.
Eli’s brows shot up as the boy simply ran to stand behind him, more than a little surprised by the boy’s wherewithal.
The two men turned to him with dumbfounded expressions and he had a moment to wonder when he’d stopped carrying his collapsible baton, before one of them had recovered enough to start advancing on him.
Eli got in a couple of punches, worrying as the second man started creeping forward in his periphery, when both suddenly stumbled back, faces going completely white, the man still in the truck trying to inconspicuously sink out of view. He belatedly noticed the large shadow that had joined his, the tail not tied to anything. He looked over his shoulder, affirming that it was a superhero that hovered behind him.
It was over in a matter of minutes, the three men cleaned up with astonishing efficiency and deposited into the back of their own truck. With a satisfied nod, Razor’s Edge finally came to land in front of them.
“Daddy!”
The little boy pushed past Eli to throw himself at the super, quieting immediately when he picked the boy up. “Alright, Jordan?” came the low question from behind the cowl.
The little boy - Jordan - nodded solemnly, pointing to where Eli stood, a touch nonplussed. “He came to save me before you got here.”
“So he did. I believe he works in my office too. Don’t you?” Razor’s Edge’s mirrored gaze swung around in his direction.
Eli had a single moment where he could hear nothing but the blood rushing in his ears, before he brought himself sharply under control. “I do,” he affirmed calmly. “My name is Eli, Mr. Edge.”
Razor’s Edge snorted, suddenly seeming much less intimidating. “Eli, then. Thank you, for helping my son. I can’t possibly repay you.”
Eli suddenly had the distinct feeling of floating. He’d never thought to talk to Razor’s Edge in his life, let alone like this. He could feel himself flushing, but whether from terror or pleasure at the thanks he couldn’t tell. “I-” He had to clear his throat self-consciously before he could continue. “It seems only fair. You spend all day saving other people’s families; there should be someone around when your own family needs a little help.” He nodded toward the back of the truck. “Besides, you did all the heavy lifting.”
With his half-mask, Eli could see as Razor’s Edge’s lips quirked up for just a moment, before he turned to look at Jordan, worrying at his lower lip slightly. “I wouldn’t have gotten here at all if the police hadn’t thought to call The Firm after the babysitter called them.” He sighed quietly. “I’m probably going to have to find a new sitter now.”
He gnawed on his lip again, looking at Jordan. “And what am I going to do with you now?” he asked, mostly, it seemed, to himself.
Eli wasn’t sure the super realized he was there, but he spoke up anyway. “I could take him.” The masked gaze snapped up to take him in. He just shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t have a sitter, your house is probably compromised, and you’re still patrolling. You’ve only got a couple options that I can see.” He took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “You take him to the office and leave him there, you call in sick and try to get someone to cover, or I can take him to my home and you can pick him up when you get off.”
He watched Razor’s Edge gnaw on his lip for a moment longer, before he added, “I really don’t mind; I wasn’t going to do anything else with my evening.” He would’ve winced if he’d realized how sad that sounded, but he was too focused on appearing steady.
Eli could see the moment the super gave in, already reaching for the pen and paper in the folio he’d abandoned at the mouth of the alley, as Razor’s Edge began, “I really can’t thank you enough. And if you need me for anything at all, I’ll tell my coordinator to send the call straight through to me. And I’ll-”
“Relax,” Eli ordered gently. “You only have a couple hours left of your patrol and I grew up in a large family. I’m an excellent sitter.”
Slowly, because Razor’s Edge might look on the verge of wringing his hands, but he was still rather infamous so far as supers went, Eli took Jordan, giving Razor’s Edge the scrap of paper with his address hastily scrawled on it. “I’ll see you when you get off.”
Razor’s Edge threw him a brief smirk but said nothing, merely turned to the three kidnappers still trussed up in the back of the truck as Eli made his way from the alley and started home.
The eleven o’clock train had just rumbled past when the knock he’d been waiting for came at his door. Jordan was fast asleep in his den, and he’d been in the dining room, pouring over the work he’d brought home from the office.
Eli opened the door to find Razor’s Edge, as expected, dressed in civvies comprised of a dark blue polo tucked into impeccably pressed khakis. He’d obviously taken the time to fix his hair after removing his cowl, though Eli could still see the faint outline from where it sat across his cheekbones.
He blinked several times, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with one finger, before stepping back and gesturing in. “Come in, Mr. Edge. Jordan’s just in the other room.”
Razor’s Edge stepped in, crowding into his personal space in a way Eli suspected was not strictly necessary. “All things considered, you should call me Damon.” His voice wasn’t much changed from when he wore his mask, a deep growl that Eli was sure normally sounded intimidating but now sounded anything but. “All things considered, you should also let me take you out for dinner sometime…as a thank you.”
Eli’s apartment was small, the foyer opening directly into the kitchen, and he backed into it, stopping when he had the kitchen’s island at his back. “That’s very kind of you, but I assure you, it was no trouble.” He stuttered slightly on the last part as Damon slunk into the kitchen, all lethal grace as he approached Eli like he was stalking some poor unsuspecting prey.
“But I simply must thank you properly,” the words were a cross between a growl and a purr. “Surely you won’t deny me that chance.” He was still slowly approaching Eli, and the coordinator could feel his heartbeat kick up a notch.
“I couldn’t possibly let you thank me for something anyone should have done. Besides, it would be entirely improper, considering we work at the same office.” He wondered rather absently if his voice sounded as high-pitched as he thought it did.
Damon stepped into Eli’s space, hands braced on the island on either side of him. “Oh, but I insist.”
Eli’s heart hammered, though certainly not from fright. For a single, breathless moment, he thought Damon was going to grab him close and kiss him.
Instead, Damon backed up a few scant inches, suddenly making it much easier to breathe, though he choked slightly as the super brought one of Eli’s hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across knuckles that Eli couldn’t quite figure out how he’d appropriated. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, at seven. I want to show you how truly…appreciative, I am.”
He finished with a smirk, suddenly gone as he collected a sleep-ruffled Jordan and made his way out, tipping a final, parting wink at Eli, where he still slumped, bewildered and bemused, against the kitchen island.
Shaking his head slightly, wondering if he’d gone insane and if it might not be the best thing that had ever happened to him, Eli went into the dining room, pulled out his planner, and carefully penciled in: Friday night, seven o’clock, date with Damon.