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Fic: Glad You're Not Roadkill
Title: Glad You're Not Roadkill
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
Summary: Eliot always blames himself.
Author's Notes: Originally written for 5 Acts, January 2011. Beta'd by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maskedfangirl. <3
"You can go in now," the woman in the Snoopy scrubs said. "One at a time." She had the tone in her voice that indicated that anyone who tried to thwart her command would used as bait for her next deep sea fishing expedition.
There was a tense moment where everyone tried to look at each other without looking at each other. "Go, go!" Sophie said touching Eliot's arm.
Eliot all but sprinted down the hall. But all his relief and haste disappeared when the door to the hospital room came into view. He wiped his hands on his jeans, because they were suddenly sweaty. Eliot took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
"El?"
Hardison was curled under the thin hospital blanket, looking battered and broken. Eliot's chest felt painfully tight and it took every ounce of his will to approach the bed.
"Hey, man," he breathed. "How're you feeling?"
Hardison stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. "Not funny. I got hit, Eliot. By a speeding garbage truck. How do you think I feel?"
Eliot sat on the edge of the hospital bed and hated himself a little for fidgeting with his hands in his lap.
"I... uh."
"Don't," Hardison said, rearranging his IV tubes.
"Don't what?"
There was yet another tense moment, the four hundred and ninety thousandth of the day, by Eliot's count. Hardison broke it with a dramatic eye roll and a derisive snort.
"You were going to pull the same old Eliot routine where you blame yourself for someone getting hurt, even though there's no call for it." Hardison twisted to sit up, then reached over and brushed his fingers over the back of Eliot's hand.
Eliot leaned into the touch. "I... Should have been --"
"Should have what? Destroyed all garbage trucks as a precaution? Eliot, you're an ass." Hardison laughed, then grimaced. "Ow."
Eliot pushed Hardison back down as gently as he could, aware of bruises and possible broken bones. "We can talk tomorrow. You're supposed to be resting."
Contrary to his temperament, Hardison didn't argue. He let Eliot push him down onto his back and smiled up at him. "Thanks for being goofy and overprotective." Hardison breathed deeply, trying to get comfortable when every part of him felt like he'd been run through a sausage press.
"I should get going," Eliot said, standing slowly so as not to displaced the injured Hardison any more than he had to. "Everyone wants to come in and say goodnight and you're going to need your strength for Parker."
Despite his condition, Hardison's laugh was strong and bright. Eliot's stomach leapt the obnoxious way it always did when Hardison was close by, but he did his best to ignore it.
"Do me a favour, El?"
"Anything."
"I want you to drive me home when they discharge me in the morning. Y'know, because you owe me for not wrecking the garbage trucks."
Eliot kissed him then, because the alternative would involve tipping his hand. "Get some sleep, Alec. I'll be here when you wake up."
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
Summary: Eliot always blames himself.
Author's Notes: Originally written for 5 Acts, January 2011. Beta'd by
maskedfangirl. <3"You can go in now," the woman in the Snoopy scrubs said. "One at a time." She had the tone in her voice that indicated that anyone who tried to thwart her command would used as bait for her next deep sea fishing expedition.
There was a tense moment where everyone tried to look at each other without looking at each other. "Go, go!" Sophie said touching Eliot's arm.
Eliot all but sprinted down the hall. But all his relief and haste disappeared when the door to the hospital room came into view. He wiped his hands on his jeans, because they were suddenly sweaty. Eliot took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
"El?"
Hardison was curled under the thin hospital blanket, looking battered and broken. Eliot's chest felt painfully tight and it took every ounce of his will to approach the bed.
"Hey, man," he breathed. "How're you feeling?"
Hardison stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. "Not funny. I got hit, Eliot. By a speeding garbage truck. How do you think I feel?"
Eliot sat on the edge of the hospital bed and hated himself a little for fidgeting with his hands in his lap.
"I... uh."
"Don't," Hardison said, rearranging his IV tubes.
"Don't what?"
There was yet another tense moment, the four hundred and ninety thousandth of the day, by Eliot's count. Hardison broke it with a dramatic eye roll and a derisive snort.
"You were going to pull the same old Eliot routine where you blame yourself for someone getting hurt, even though there's no call for it." Hardison twisted to sit up, then reached over and brushed his fingers over the back of Eliot's hand.
Eliot leaned into the touch. "I... Should have been --"
"Should have what? Destroyed all garbage trucks as a precaution? Eliot, you're an ass." Hardison laughed, then grimaced. "Ow."
Eliot pushed Hardison back down as gently as he could, aware of bruises and possible broken bones. "We can talk tomorrow. You're supposed to be resting."
Contrary to his temperament, Hardison didn't argue. He let Eliot push him down onto his back and smiled up at him. "Thanks for being goofy and overprotective." Hardison breathed deeply, trying to get comfortable when every part of him felt like he'd been run through a sausage press.
"I should get going," Eliot said, standing slowly so as not to displaced the injured Hardison any more than he had to. "Everyone wants to come in and say goodnight and you're going to need your strength for Parker."
Despite his condition, Hardison's laugh was strong and bright. Eliot's stomach leapt the obnoxious way it always did when Hardison was close by, but he did his best to ignore it.
"Do me a favour, El?"
"Anything."
"I want you to drive me home when they discharge me in the morning. Y'know, because you owe me for not wrecking the garbage trucks."
Eliot kissed him then, because the alternative would involve tipping his hand. "Get some sleep, Alec. I'll be here when you wake up."
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