geniuswithasmartphone: (So Done With This)
[personal profile] geniuswithasmartphone
Well, there was no more denying it. Their most recent ill-advised Plan E attempt had left Hardison with a nasty cold. Possibly pneumonia. Possibly consumption. He wasn't sure. It all got mixed together in a haze of coughing and sneezing and general misery. He alternated between sweating and shivering, along with that weird light-headed feeling that you got with a high fever.

Or maybe with extra-strength cold meds. One of those.

Look, the important thing was that he was dying here. Probably literally. Dying. In his prime.

He was huddled on the couch, wrapping under blankets, with mountains of Squeeze Orange Soda bottles next to him. That was practically orange juice, right? A smaller mountain (in height, if not in volume) of used tissues were next to that, because Hardison hadn't thought to bring over a garbage can before he'd sunk onto the couch and now the idea of getting up to fetch it made him whimper. His head weighed roughly fifty pounds and was throbbing in time to his heartbeat--sitting up was an impossibility, never mind actually standing. And walking? HA!

He's known the outdoors were a horrible idea. It always ended with his life in danger.

Dammit, Eliot!

Date: 2015-04-06 08:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com
"You're not dying," Parker told him, perching on the back of the couch. "You just wish you were." She patted him on the shoulder.

Parker belonged to the 'walk it off' school of pain and sickness, and was terrible about it when it was herself. She tried to be better with other people, but really? Hardison had a cold!

Date: 2015-04-06 09:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com
Parker offered him a pillow. Maybe it would help?

"I need to record one of your rants sometime. I just know it'll come in handy someday because they're so long and detailed and cool."

Date: 2015-04-06 09:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com
Parker stroked his hair, because that did not require a medical degree.

"Awww."

Okay, now she wasn't sure what else to do. Because soup from a can would be good, but. Eliot would say it wasn't. So what was the protocol here?

Date: 2015-04-06 09:31 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com
"Sure." Parker hopped off the couch, because you were meant to do something with fluids, right? Right. "I'm sorry Plan E went like this. Instead of like we hoped."

Date: 2015-04-06 09:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com
"I don't think so." Parker handed him another bottle of soda, then took it back and opened it for him. Because she was trying! "He asked about women first when I mentioned it. Wanted to know if we had someone in mind, and I told him we hadn't gotten that far yet. I don't know why he believed me."

Date: 2015-04-07 12:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com
"Maybe. But I didn't have anyone to say we wanted. And that would've been a lie too." She frowned. "This is so complicated," she complained.
Edited Date: 2015-04-07 12:05 am (UTC)

Date: 2015-04-07 03:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com
"Hmm." Parker slid down the couch to sit next to him. "Interested? Um. Helpful? He said he'd had one with two girls, once. He said it was fun." She hummed thoughtfully. "Concerned, maybe? So. Not totally turned off by the idea or anything."

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Date: 2015-04-06 09:11 pm (UTC)
vdistinctive: (schmoop-face)
From: [personal profile] vdistinctive
Eliot also usually subscribed to the "suck it up and deal" theory of recovery, but he was maybe feeling a bit guilty for letting Hardison decide to go swimming in the first place. (And, you know, basically throwing him in.) So he came up on his break from Luke's with some of the honey and ginger chicken and a thermos of tea.

"Seriously? Have you moved from that couch at all, today?"

Giving Hardison a hard time was all part of the being-guilty process.

Date: 2015-04-06 09:28 pm (UTC)
vdistinctive: (resigned-face)
From: [personal profile] vdistinctive
That probably had something to do with the fact that Hardison's job involved a lot less being stuck in places where bed rest wasn't an option.

Eliot set the chicken down on the coffee table. "Really?" he said. "I wasn't sure. 'Cause you definitely haven't pointed that out every five minutes."

Date: 2015-04-06 09:39 pm (UTC)
vdistinctive: (hoodie-face)
From: [personal profile] vdistinctive
Hey, Eliot preferred Grumpy Bear over 'dangerously delirious with ice cream'. "Yeah, it's terrible how you've got two people who care about your well-bein' like that." He reached over to pat the nearest bit of Hardison -- his thigh -- encouragingly. "Sit up, I brought you food."

Date: 2015-04-06 10:37 pm (UTC)
vdistinctive: (daddy issues-face)
From: [personal profile] vdistinctive
Yes, well, Eliot had been literally crazy at the time. It hardly counted as precedence.

"It's not soup," Eliot promised. "It's the special from the diner. Real solid food." With real actual vitamins. Not like that damn soda. "Try sitting up. The steam'll help your sinuses."

Date: 2015-04-07 03:12 am (UTC)
vdistinctive: (schmoop-face)
From: [personal profile] vdistinctive
"You know there's a difference between the color and the fruit, right?" Eliot asked, moving to sit down next to Hardison so he could lean against him if he needed to. He and Parker had done plenty of supporting Eliot when he was a cursed mess, it was the least he could do to return the favor.

And, you know, an excuse to have Hardison pressed up against him.

"Honey-ginger chicken with lime," he announced with a flourish, opening up the take out container. "Honey's a natural antibiotic, ginger's good for your stomach, and lime for the vitamin C. Plus, you know, flavor."

Date: 2015-04-07 03:25 am (UTC)
vdistinctive: (want that-face)
From: [personal profile] vdistinctive
Yeah, that fever wasn't reassuring. Eliot made a mental note to get some tylenol into Hardison before he went back downstairs. For now, though, he was just going to sit here and be a giant teddy-bear for a bit. He even rubbed Hardison's back idly with one hand while he got the food set up.

You know, just 'cause he felt guilty. Not because it felt nice taking care of someone he loved cared about or anything.

"Eat a little, then sleep," he said. "If you don't get somethin' in you you'll just wake up feeling worse later."

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