What, was "Rudy" on cable last night?

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]

The Leverage team had been in Fandom more than long enough to know exactly what came after the school prom. Eliot's anticipation of seeing Spike and Gracie again had been tempered by his dread over whatever fresh hell of a revelation of his alternate selves' sex lives. He'd already met a daughter some version of him had had with Sterling, for chrissake, but he knew better to think the island couldn't somehow top that.

But Saturday morning had come and gone, and no "you don't get to be with your partners in my universe" child arrived to taunt him. And it turned out, spending time with a couple kids who belonged to all three of them was really nice.

He leaned back on the couch with his coffee, a giant spread of brunch foods arranged on the coffee table, the end tables, and pretty much every other flat surface not currently occupied by a piece of Hardison's tech (yeah, Eliot lost that battle before it ever began), and watched as Hardison finished setting up a video link to Kathy. Parker was perched on the back of the couch next to him, her knee touching his shoulder, looking about as happy and relaxed as he'd ever seen her, and not just because her mouth was full of chocolate cereal. The kids were sprawled on either side of them, teasing and poking each other in a way that reminded Eliot so much of himself and Trudy as kids it almost hurt. Somehow, after everything, he'd still managed to end up with a family. A large one, even. He could get used to this.

He bit his lip thoughtfully, and took a long sip of his coffee.

Maybe he should start taking steps to make sure he got the chance.

[for the fam, and slow play. AU KIDS!]

Eliot had been taking it easy since getting back from LA. For all his bluster and insistence on avoiding formalized medical care -- be it hospitals or magical healing -- he knew how to take time to give his body what it needed. And after the number that the mad doctor had managed to do, both with his fists and the whole "blowing up" thing, Eliot's body had needed a lot.

So he'd laid low, making good use of ice packs and analgesics, and lots and lots of cuddle time, either with his partners or with his dog. Not that he would ever, ever use that term out loud.

He was just pulling his "cook and convalesce" stool up to the counter to get started on dinner for the evening (and yeah, it was maybe a little sad that he had a stool specifically for that purpose, but it wasn't like he was going to not cook), when he heard a quiet but firm knock on the door.

. . . That was a very distinctive knock.

"I got it," he called. Val trotted up to the door with him, ears pricked at her person's sudden discomfiture. Eliot paused at the door to steel himself, only for the knock to come again, more insistently this time. He rolled back his shoulders, shook out his hair, and eased the door open.

"Heya Pop."

[for the family, please]

The island had that vacation quiet thing going on, and life in general had been pretty quiet and peaceful for Eliot recently, too.

It was enough to drive a hitter nuts.

He'd bought pretty much everything Williams Sonoma had to offer right now, and had broken in every single piece. He'd actually gotten tired of cooking. So now he was sitting in the living room, reading a political thriller, his reading glasses sliding down his nose.

Oh good god, he'd totally gotten old. This was exactly why he'd talked to Kanan about going off and starting a bar fight sometime.

[for the partners. And probably for slowplay]

Eliot loved Halloween. The island was always nice enough to keep things nice and dark all day, which not only meant his vampire boyfriend didn't have to worry about catching fire, it also confused the hell out of all the prey on the preserve. He came home from his morning hunt today with half a dozen rabbits, a sack of fresh venison, and a large quantity of deer blood for Hardison.

Who didn't like a little blood sausage to brighten up their fall mornings?

He set the whole haul onto the kitchen island and looked it over with a wolfish grin, then whistled for the only other canine member of his pack. Val came trotting right up, tail wagging a mile a minute, and Eliot was half-tempted to shift just so he could wag his back. But paws were not meant for wielding butcher knives, and if these rabbits resembled their living selves too much by the time Parker swooped in, she'd be moaning about it until next week. Besides, he had a party to cater!

He tossed Val a couple vertebrae to gnaw on, and set to work, whistling a cheerful tune as he went.

[ooc: open for pack mates or visitors!]

Eliot was perfectly happy to do his own demolition and carpentry, but he knew just enough about electric and plumbing to get himself in trouble and he knew it. So this was contractor week. Which left Eliot at something of loose ends. What the hell did he do with himself all week when he wasn't trying to rebuild a diner or a house, anyway?

He'd considered working on putting in his new garden, but it was pretty much exactly the wrong season for planting, and frankly, basic landscaping didn't interest him in the least. So today he was out front, running through forms from at least four different martial arts styles, in between answering questions like "Yes, I know the shower in the master bath is going to be the size of a small bedroom" and "Yeah, sure, you can pretend the second floor's going to be one giant server farm if that makes you feel better about the number of outlets you're putting in."

Really, it was like these people had never worked on a dream home for an obscenely rich criminal throuple before.

[ooc: open! Eliot is once again perfectly accessible from the street.]

The diner was all fixed up again, which meant it was time for Eliot to finally turn his attention back to his house. The house. Their house, this time from scratch. They had plans, a new way to divide up the space the building gave them, even expand on it (no one would mind an extra floor, right?). But before they could start on that, the old and busted stuff had to go.

So here Eliot was, with a sledge hammer and crowbar, dressed head to toe in safety gear, including a heavy duty air filter because five sharks meant a whole lot of exposed insulation that had quite possibly gone to mold by now.

Really, he definitely should have started on this shit much earlier.

Anyway, too late for regrets now. It was time to gut this bastard of a house, top to bottom.

Eliot shook himself out, bouncing on his toes, and cracked his neck. He took a deep breath, made sure the air filter was fitted snugly over his mouth and nose, and then let out a muffled "HOOAH!" and ran in.

This was going to be fun.

[Open!]

Eliot had handwavily spent the week looking up tips for teaching guitar. He was self-taught, himself -- other than the tips he'd gotten from Kaye-Lynn during his very brief tenure as a country music sensation -- and it was a skill he'd picked up young enough that he didn't 100% remember how he'd gone about it. It was good to review some of the bare basics for himself, and besides, it'd been forever since he and Kathy had had their regular teaching sessions. He'd rather missed them.

He'd picked up a fancy auto-tuner so they wouldn't have to spend their whole first lesson on tuning by ear -- they could cover that later -- and a variety of beginners chord books in different musical styles, since he wasn't sure yet what kind of music she'd want to play. Probably not the early American standards or country-western classics that he'd first learned. Though he'd probably try to sneak some Hank Williams or Johnny Cash in there somewhere.

He was, in fact, warming up with some Johnny Cash while he waited for Kathy to arrive. He really had been everywhere, after all.

[ooc: for Kathy and the partners, though if anyone else has a burning desire to visit, that's okay too]

The house was dark when they got back, and eerily silent. Val was still off being dog-sat by Kanan, and the place hadn't been empty this long since before Hardison and Parker moved in.

Which was fine, and normally not even something Eliot would notice. But all his nerves felt scraped raw just now, and the house didn't feel right dark and quiet anymore.

Funny. There was a time when dark and quiet was all he'd ever wanted out of the world.

"Parker and Sparkle are supposed to be gettin' in soon too, right?" Eliot asked Hardison. "Maybe I should make something for everyone for lunch."

( You can't always get what you want )

[ooc: NFI, OOC welcome. Preplayed with the inimitable age_of_the_geek, whoisalicewhite, and myownface. Our baby little family plot is done.]

So. Hardison and Parker were officially going to be moving in. The first rush of "yes, please, be where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you're not turning into creepy zombie versions (or alien bug versions, or any other kind of creepy versions) of yourselves" had worn off, and Eliot was starting to realize what that actually meant, logistically. The house couldn't just be his place, anymore. He had to make sure that they had the space to make it their own, too. It wasn't as if Eliot's house was small, but, well. He'd been living there for coming up on three years now. It had stuff in it.

So today, Eliot was cleaning house. He'd cleared out the dining room (never used, they always ate in the kitchen, so that'd be great as, like, an office or study or something) and was now tackling the basement.

Which would be how a box full of bear traps ended up on his front stoop.

He had no idea what he was going to do with those.

[open!]