vdistinctive | 75 Godiva, stupid-o'clock Monday

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75 Godiva, stupid-o'clock Monday

To say that Eliot was dragging would be an understatement. He'd just woken up from the absolute weirdest, most depressing week ever (which was saying something), during which he'd basically been a mindless killer drone with a drill for a hand, and literally all he wanted to do was be home with his partners and do comforting, human things like cook and eat food and then sleep.

The only saving grace was that Parker and Hardison were right there the moment he woke up, both also now normal and healthy, and that they probably wouldn't mind too much if he took a little while to go from "spoke in weird wordless groans for a week" back to "speaking actual sentences and interacting with people". Frankly, the "Big Daddy" had been a little too close to what he might have been if he'd spent enough time working for Moreau than he really wanted to deal with.

[for them's in the narrative and . . . whatever the hell speed play it ends up being]

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Hardison was just holding onto both of them as hard as he could. He'd spent most of the week trying to follow them, but too often they'd gone places he couldn't follow.

The pipes were too small, especially in the dark and the wet. And he still wasn't much equipped to handle splicers.

He was okay with being quiet, so long as they just let him keep holding them for a little while longer.

Eliot would tell him that "avoid them at all costs" was the way to properly handle splicers.

He was so thankful Hardison hadn't gotten hurt. That he hadn't hurt him. He could remember spotting him from time to time during the week without feeling anything. Not even when Hardison had gotten too close and Eliot had attacked.

Eliot shut his eyes for a moment and let out a small shudder, then leaned into Hardison's grip.

Hardison could hang on as long as he wanted. It helped remind Eliot he wasn't numb anymore.

Hardison's hands slid into Eliot's hair, combing it out with gentle fingers, nails lightly caressing his scalp. "Hey," he said softly. Mostly a breath of a word. "It's..." The word 'okay' wouldn't come. "You're back. You're both back. That's what matters."

Eliot didn’t quite melt into the scalp massage the way he usually would, but his shoulders started to unlock, and he leaned a little harder into Hardison, a low hum in the back of his throat.

That was a little too close to a groan, though, so after a moment he opened his mouth (god it was nice to have a mouth again).

“Sorry.”

"Ain't nothin' you gotta apologize for," Hardisom murmured. "You ain't do nothin'. It was this island."

He was the reason they’d all come here, though. He didn’t regret it — couldn’t , this island had given him too much— but that didn’t stop him from feeling responsible.

“Should eat,” he said, voice gruff from the effort of remembering to speak.

He was reluctant to pull away from the others and go to the kitchen.

"Then we can maybe order takeout in a bit," Hardison said, reluctant to let go and let him. "We can trust Val to fetch the bag, right?"

Eliot huffed, closing his eyes again. "Wanna cook."

Not that he made any sort of move to actually go, you know, do that.

"Dinner," Hardison offered. "Hell, even lunch."

Just...not yet, okay? He hadn't finished clinging.

Eliot cracked his eyes open with a frown. “Time ‘zit?”

He honestly had no clue. Or what day it might be, either. Apparently guys hopped up on mutagenic drugs fused to diving suits didn’t have much use for time pieces.

"Bird o'clock," Hardison said quietly. "Just bright enough to peek through the curtains. Too early to get up."

Or at least, for Hardison to let go.

Eliot pried his eyes open to give Hardison a Look. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Oh hey, an entire sentence. It was still soft and rough, but he very nearly sounded human again.

It’d always been easier to take care of others than to take care of himself.

"Uhhh..." A convincing lie did not occur to Hardison in time, dammit.

He blamed the lack of sleep.

Eliot rubbed a hand down his face. “Dammit, Hardison.” He started the long, reluctant process of feta fling himself from his partners.

"Noooooooooo..." Hardison whined, trying to cling to Eliot. "No, this is better."

"You gotta eat," Eliot said. He was so, so tempted to just stay where he was, but. "It's a rule."

"I'mma eat!" Hardison protested. "...Inna bit. Later. Snuggles now, that's a rule, too."

That he just made up.

Eliot huffed, but let himself be dragged back into the snuggling.

"You're lucky you're cute."

"Ain't that why you gon' marry me?" Hardison asked, wrapping his arms and legs around Eliot lest he make another unwise bid for freedom.

Eliot actually managed a chuckle at that. "One of the reasons."

"Right, I'm smart, too," Hardison said, his head resting on Eliot's shoulder.

Parker had absolutely no problem with that. She hadn't liked being little and almost-helpless the first time around, and this last time had been even more messed up. And creepy. Even if she'd had Eliot to watch her back, he'd been transformed too, and not into something fun for him, like a wolf.

"Sometimes this island sucks."

Hardison got an extra-hard squeeze with that statement, because what if they'd had to watch him die again? Or what if he'd been made into a splicer?

Eliot let out a small grunt of agreement, then winced.

"New Orleans," he said, his voice rough and soft. "Soon."

"Can it be really soon?" Parker asked, sounding fretful. "Only, this has been a really long summer and it's only June and I... don't wanna do that again." Any time soon, she would have said once. Ever again, she meant this time. She leaned her head on Eliot's shoulder. Being able to touch real Eliot again made her very grateful but a bit twitchy.

Eliot rested his head gently against hers and nodded. If he had any more energy right now, he’d probably want to go start packing.

"Good," Parker whispered. She'd miss this place. But. Enough was enough. They were going to be married. And if they were going to make their family bigger, it wouldn't be here. Kathy was gone, Raven was gone, their other students and friends were okay. Time to go.

Eliot made a faint sound of agreement and turned his face into her hair. There'd be a lot to do -- they'd managed to settle themselves down here even more thoroughly than they had in Portland, and there was the house to pack up, the diner to deal with, and lots of people to say goodbye to.

He was really tempted to just grab them both and leave now, though.

"Yeah," Hardison said. "Sometimes it sucks a lot."

The only thing worse than a random, unasked-for, violent transformation was when it left one of them behind.

"How does stuff like that even happen?" Parker wondered, because that whole entire world was just... yeah. She rubbed at the ring on Hardison's finger, glad that she was back to wearing the ones that matched his and Eliot's. "I want to be in New Orleans already. And looking for Spike. And making a room for Ada Grace. And..."

Anything that wiped out the memories of this weekend with good ones. "You promise you didn't get hurt?" she asked again, because she really needed to hear it.

"I promise, mama," Hardison said, gathering her close. "I was more worried about you two than me anyway. I had Val an' the house to come back to."

It had just been depressingly empty and quiet without them.

"What do you say? After the wedding, maybe we honeymoon on the boat an' then...just don't come back?"

Parker buried her face in his shoulder for a second, and mumbled, "I wouldn't say no. You know?" Fingers dug into his side, hanging on. "We can visit. Maybe."

"Sure," he agreed, since he'd miss Tony and Steve and Kitty, too. "After we get settled in. An' folks can come visit us, too."

And they'd call before they dropped in and if the island was even raining wrong, they'd reschedule for another day. Or week.

Especially if it was raining fish, bleah. And sharks.

Parker relaxed incrementally now that this was settled, and then said, "Do I have to help plan the wedding?" That was so not her thing.

"Nah," Hardison said softly, shaking his head. "Just let me'n Eliot know what you want there an' we'll make it happen, mama."

Like a chocolate fountain. He was pretty sure there had to be a chocolate fountain there somewhere.

You so got her, Hardison.

"A chocolate fountain." She smiled a little, and closed her eyes. "And you guys. And I get to jump off something. No white dress. Anything else, I don't care."

"I dunno, Mama," he said. "I think you could rock the hell outta a tailored white pantsuit though." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, gentle, not trying to press too close. "Maybe you dive outta a plane or something an' zipline down to the deck where we're waitin' for you."

Parker gave a gasp of glee, nodding enthusiastically, some of her usual verve making a come-back. "Yes! No walking up an aisle for me, I have to come in from another direction! And I should be in black, 'cause that's my work-clothes, and I'm marrying you for every day forever, and if you guys want to wear dresses, they should have sparkles. Or you can be shirtless."

You know, either-or.

"I ain't walkin' down the aisle shirtless with my Nana in the audience," Hardison said firmly. "I'mma wear a tux cause I wanna look damn good for my future wife. An' husband. And...damn."

First time he'd said the words aloud.

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75 Godiva, stupid-o'clock Monday

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