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shanachie_quillTitle: Eliot and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Characters: Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, Parker
Fandom: Leverage
Series:
Written For: paranoid_woman
Prompt: wet Eliot
Summary: Eliot is really having a horrible day.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: nothing major
Warnings: Eliot is grumpy, Parker is Parker, Hardison should not be allowed tools
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me. So not making any money off this.
Author's Note: So a couple of years ago I promised my friend PW that I would write her a story for her birthday. And well…I failed. So this is said story. Finally. I hope she likes it. Thanks to whogeek and illfindmyway for their help with this.
Eliot Spencer was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
It hadn’t started out that way. In fact, he’d figured it was going to be a pretty good day. Since the Leverage crew didn’t currently have a job in progress, Eliot planned to use the downtime to do some work around his house. But first he needed to take a trip down to the store for some supplies.
Rolling up the homemade breakfast burrito, he took a bite as he shrugged into his leather jacket and headed out the backdoor. He was down the stairs and five steps towards where his Challenger should be parked when he realized it was missing. Spinning in place, he noticed the note pinned to the railing of his porch and snatched it free, reading it quickly,
Eliot, I thought your car wanted to be free for the day. I’ll bring it home when it’s tired of being with me. Parker
Crumpling the note up, he growled, “Damn it, Parker!”
Stomping back up the stairs, he re-entered the house and dug his cell phone out of the drawer, dialing Parker’s number. He wasn’t really surprised when it went to voicemail. None of them were carrying their work phones at the moment, but since she’d ‘borrowed’ his car, he’d expected her to have her phone on her. “Parker,” he barked when the message ended (still the same bland number and message that the phone came equipped with), “bring my damn car back. NOW!” Knowing that threatening her would only cause her to hide (and not return his car), Eliot hung up after that and began to re-order his day in his head.
Since he couldn’t run his errands, Eliot finished up his breakfast and then ran water into the sink, intending to do the dishes. When it gave a burp, followed by a gurgle, he became alarmed. Then (as he leaned over to see what was happening) a geyser of water shot up out of the drain and hit him full in the face.
Coughing and sputtering as the water sprayed all over him, Eliot batted at it, finally succeeding in plugging the sink and stopping the flow. Flipping his hair, sopping wet and soaked through, back so he could see, he considered the mess that the water had made of his formerly pristine kitchen.
Water dripped with a steady plink, plonk from the ceiling and tiles surrounding the sink. Nothing within a three foot radius had escaped the blast and Eliot, who had been at the epicenter, was drenched. His Henley clung to his torso and his brown hair hung in clinging strands that adhered themselves to his face as he turned his head to survey the damage.
A muffled thump from the front room drew his attention and Eliot turned, looking in that direction. "Now what?" he growled.
Another thump, followed by a louder crash, and he knew it wasn't just the non-existent wind blowing through a window he hadn't left open. "Parker?" he said as he headed towards the noise. "How many times have I told you to use the door?"
It was a toss-up as to who was more surprised when he entered the living room to find two skinny twenty-somethings instead of the blonde thief. The shorter of the two squeaked and back pedaled at his appearance, almost making it to the window, but Eliot lunged forward and grabbed the collar of his jean jacket. Hauling him back into the room, the retrieval specialist demanded, "What the hell are you doing in my house?"
"Empty! Empty! You said it would be empty!" the one he was hanging onto babbled and Eliot mentally revised his age estimate down a few years.
"Shut up," the other boy ordered. "Let go of my brother."
"You really think you're in a position to make demands?" Eliot wanted to know.
"I think you don't want us here," the boy answered. "So if you let him go, we'll leave."
Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to torment the two boys, Eliot marched the one he still held over to the front door. "Get out," he ordered. "Both of you. And don't even consider breaking into a house again or I will find you."
They stumbled a little down the stairs but recovered quickly and scrambled away, not looking back. Eliot slammed the door on their departing forms wondering aloud, "What else can go wrong today?"
A thunking noise answered him.
“Seriously?!” Eliot demanded his house. “All I wanted was a peaceful day. I wasn’t asking for much.”
Stripping off his shirt and tossing it into the laundry room, he grabbed a flashlight and headed down the stairs. At first glance it didn’t appear that anything was disturbed, but a closer examination showed that the paint cans he’d had lined up along the wall were now in disarray. He growled as he crossed the room, shining the light around to check the corners and be sure nothing else was broken.
As he swept the light back towards the shelves, something shimmered back at him. “What the fuck?” he demanded, only to be answered by a pitiful cry.
“Eliot?” a voice called from upstairs. “Are you here?”
“Damn it, Parker,” Eliot swore. “Stay up there. I’m not sure what’s down here.”
“It’s your basement, Eliot. What could be bad?” Parker thudded down the stairs and Eliot knew she was doing it on purpose because Parker never made noise unless she wanted to. “What did you find?”
“Parker,” Eliot growled in response. “I told you to stay…” He stepped in front of her, wanting to be the first one if the thing attacked.
Parker squealed. “It’s a kitty!” She pushed past him, making cooing noises as she reached into the dark recesses to pull it out. As she cuddled the black and gray cat to her, it started purring loudly. “Look, Eliot!”
“Yeah. I see. Take it upstairs, Parker. And this time stay up there. Did you bring my car back?” he called as she clattered back up the steps.
“Yup. Hardison parked it in the same spot,” she yelled down.
“’Cause I needed Hardison in my house today,” Eliot muttered as he scouted around to figure out how the cat had gotten in.
After scouting around for a few minutes, he discovered that one of the small windows in the back of the house was open. The cat must have squirmed its way in through there and been attempting to jump back out the closed front window when it knocked over the paint cans. Eliot spent a few more minutes securing the window and cleaning up the cans; manfully ignoring the clanking noises coming from upstairs.
When he finally made his way back upstairs, it was to find Parker sitting on his kitchen counter and a pair of long legs sticking out from under his sink. “You better not be breaking my sink worse than it already is, Hardison,” he ordered.
“No, man, I got it. I looked up the directions on the internet,” Hardison’s voice was muffled by the sink, but understandable.
Eliot’s step stuttered, but he continued on his way to grab dry shirt out of his gym bag. Pulling it on, he walked back to the kitchen. “What are you two doing here?” he demanded.
“We brought your car back,” Parker declared, kicking her feet gently against the cabinets. “And Hardison is gonna help fix the sink. And we brought Chinese!”
“It’s really not that hard, all you needed to do was disconnect the pipes and… uh-oh.” Eliot started forward as Parker hopped down, but neither of them were fast enough to prevent the disaster from occurring. A flood of water gushed out from under the sink as Hardison scrambled out; soaking all three of them, although Hardison got the worst of it by far. He sputtered and swore as he tried to get away from the water.
Parker dropped to her knees, crawling under the sink as Eliot scrambled for the shutoff valve. A minute later, she popped back out, waving the wrench at him. “It’s all fixed!”
Eliot eyed her suspiciously, but took the wrench she was waving around (mostly because he didn’t want to be beaned with it), and crawled under the sink himself. He was pleasantly surprised to find everything put back together. Sliding back out, he said, “Good job, Parker,” and was rewarded with a beaming smile from the blonde thief. “Why don’t you two get out of those wet clothes while I clean up in here?”
“We can help…” Hardison started.
“NO!” Eliot took a deep breath. “It’s fine. I got it. Get out of those clothes. Your go bags are in the spare room at the top of the stairs.”
By the time he got the kitchen cleaned up and himself changed, Hardison and Parker were back in the kitchen. Parker was getting plates and silverware out of the proper places while Hardison emptied a bag of food onto the table. “Dinner,” Hardison explained as he re-entered the room.
Eliot just nodded, going to the fridge and retrieving three beers, deciding it was easier not to argue. Besides Parker had fixed his sink. The least he could do was eat dinner with them. He carried the bottles over to the table, sitting down and coming eye to eye with the cat from the basement.
“Parker, I’m not keeping the damn cat!”
Characters: Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, Parker
Fandom: Leverage
Series:
Written For: paranoid_woman
Prompt: wet Eliot
Summary: Eliot is really having a horrible day.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: nothing major
Warnings: Eliot is grumpy, Parker is Parker, Hardison should not be allowed tools
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me. So not making any money off this.
Author's Note: So a couple of years ago I promised my friend PW that I would write her a story for her birthday. And well…I failed. So this is said story. Finally. I hope she likes it. Thanks to whogeek and illfindmyway for their help with this.
Eliot Spencer was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
It hadn’t started out that way. In fact, he’d figured it was going to be a pretty good day. Since the Leverage crew didn’t currently have a job in progress, Eliot planned to use the downtime to do some work around his house. But first he needed to take a trip down to the store for some supplies.
Rolling up the homemade breakfast burrito, he took a bite as he shrugged into his leather jacket and headed out the backdoor. He was down the stairs and five steps towards where his Challenger should be parked when he realized it was missing. Spinning in place, he noticed the note pinned to the railing of his porch and snatched it free, reading it quickly,
Eliot, I thought your car wanted to be free for the day. I’ll bring it home when it’s tired of being with me. Parker
Crumpling the note up, he growled, “Damn it, Parker!”
Stomping back up the stairs, he re-entered the house and dug his cell phone out of the drawer, dialing Parker’s number. He wasn’t really surprised when it went to voicemail. None of them were carrying their work phones at the moment, but since she’d ‘borrowed’ his car, he’d expected her to have her phone on her. “Parker,” he barked when the message ended (still the same bland number and message that the phone came equipped with), “bring my damn car back. NOW!” Knowing that threatening her would only cause her to hide (and not return his car), Eliot hung up after that and began to re-order his day in his head.
Since he couldn’t run his errands, Eliot finished up his breakfast and then ran water into the sink, intending to do the dishes. When it gave a burp, followed by a gurgle, he became alarmed. Then (as he leaned over to see what was happening) a geyser of water shot up out of the drain and hit him full in the face.
Coughing and sputtering as the water sprayed all over him, Eliot batted at it, finally succeeding in plugging the sink and stopping the flow. Flipping his hair, sopping wet and soaked through, back so he could see, he considered the mess that the water had made of his formerly pristine kitchen.
Water dripped with a steady plink, plonk from the ceiling and tiles surrounding the sink. Nothing within a three foot radius had escaped the blast and Eliot, who had been at the epicenter, was drenched. His Henley clung to his torso and his brown hair hung in clinging strands that adhered themselves to his face as he turned his head to survey the damage.
A muffled thump from the front room drew his attention and Eliot turned, looking in that direction. "Now what?" he growled.
Another thump, followed by a louder crash, and he knew it wasn't just the non-existent wind blowing through a window he hadn't left open. "Parker?" he said as he headed towards the noise. "How many times have I told you to use the door?"
It was a toss-up as to who was more surprised when he entered the living room to find two skinny twenty-somethings instead of the blonde thief. The shorter of the two squeaked and back pedaled at his appearance, almost making it to the window, but Eliot lunged forward and grabbed the collar of his jean jacket. Hauling him back into the room, the retrieval specialist demanded, "What the hell are you doing in my house?"
"Empty! Empty! You said it would be empty!" the one he was hanging onto babbled and Eliot mentally revised his age estimate down a few years.
"Shut up," the other boy ordered. "Let go of my brother."
"You really think you're in a position to make demands?" Eliot wanted to know.
"I think you don't want us here," the boy answered. "So if you let him go, we'll leave."
Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to torment the two boys, Eliot marched the one he still held over to the front door. "Get out," he ordered. "Both of you. And don't even consider breaking into a house again or I will find you."
They stumbled a little down the stairs but recovered quickly and scrambled away, not looking back. Eliot slammed the door on their departing forms wondering aloud, "What else can go wrong today?"
A thunking noise answered him.
“Seriously?!” Eliot demanded his house. “All I wanted was a peaceful day. I wasn’t asking for much.”
Stripping off his shirt and tossing it into the laundry room, he grabbed a flashlight and headed down the stairs. At first glance it didn’t appear that anything was disturbed, but a closer examination showed that the paint cans he’d had lined up along the wall were now in disarray. He growled as he crossed the room, shining the light around to check the corners and be sure nothing else was broken.
As he swept the light back towards the shelves, something shimmered back at him. “What the fuck?” he demanded, only to be answered by a pitiful cry.
“Eliot?” a voice called from upstairs. “Are you here?”
“Damn it, Parker,” Eliot swore. “Stay up there. I’m not sure what’s down here.”
“It’s your basement, Eliot. What could be bad?” Parker thudded down the stairs and Eliot knew she was doing it on purpose because Parker never made noise unless she wanted to. “What did you find?”
“Parker,” Eliot growled in response. “I told you to stay…” He stepped in front of her, wanting to be the first one if the thing attacked.
Parker squealed. “It’s a kitty!” She pushed past him, making cooing noises as she reached into the dark recesses to pull it out. As she cuddled the black and gray cat to her, it started purring loudly. “Look, Eliot!”
“Yeah. I see. Take it upstairs, Parker. And this time stay up there. Did you bring my car back?” he called as she clattered back up the steps.
“Yup. Hardison parked it in the same spot,” she yelled down.
“’Cause I needed Hardison in my house today,” Eliot muttered as he scouted around to figure out how the cat had gotten in.
After scouting around for a few minutes, he discovered that one of the small windows in the back of the house was open. The cat must have squirmed its way in through there and been attempting to jump back out the closed front window when it knocked over the paint cans. Eliot spent a few more minutes securing the window and cleaning up the cans; manfully ignoring the clanking noises coming from upstairs.
When he finally made his way back upstairs, it was to find Parker sitting on his kitchen counter and a pair of long legs sticking out from under his sink. “You better not be breaking my sink worse than it already is, Hardison,” he ordered.
“No, man, I got it. I looked up the directions on the internet,” Hardison’s voice was muffled by the sink, but understandable.
Eliot’s step stuttered, but he continued on his way to grab dry shirt out of his gym bag. Pulling it on, he walked back to the kitchen. “What are you two doing here?” he demanded.
“We brought your car back,” Parker declared, kicking her feet gently against the cabinets. “And Hardison is gonna help fix the sink. And we brought Chinese!”
“It’s really not that hard, all you needed to do was disconnect the pipes and… uh-oh.” Eliot started forward as Parker hopped down, but neither of them were fast enough to prevent the disaster from occurring. A flood of water gushed out from under the sink as Hardison scrambled out; soaking all three of them, although Hardison got the worst of it by far. He sputtered and swore as he tried to get away from the water.
Parker dropped to her knees, crawling under the sink as Eliot scrambled for the shutoff valve. A minute later, she popped back out, waving the wrench at him. “It’s all fixed!”
Eliot eyed her suspiciously, but took the wrench she was waving around (mostly because he didn’t want to be beaned with it), and crawled under the sink himself. He was pleasantly surprised to find everything put back together. Sliding back out, he said, “Good job, Parker,” and was rewarded with a beaming smile from the blonde thief. “Why don’t you two get out of those wet clothes while I clean up in here?”
“We can help…” Hardison started.
“NO!” Eliot took a deep breath. “It’s fine. I got it. Get out of those clothes. Your go bags are in the spare room at the top of the stairs.”
By the time he got the kitchen cleaned up and himself changed, Hardison and Parker were back in the kitchen. Parker was getting plates and silverware out of the proper places while Hardison emptied a bag of food onto the table. “Dinner,” Hardison explained as he re-entered the room.
Eliot just nodded, going to the fridge and retrieving three beers, deciding it was easier not to argue. Besides Parker had fixed his sink. The least he could do was eat dinner with them. He carried the bottles over to the table, sitting down and coming eye to eye with the cat from the basement.
“Parker, I’m not keeping the damn cat!”
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