geniuswithasmartphone: (Crouching All Three)
At some point on Saturday--Hardison had stopped keeping track of time after his fifth shot of Red Bull and Orange Soda--Eliot and Parker had shown up at the library covered in shark goo and hustled him home, talking about sleep and showers and real food. Probably. By the time they'd shown up, Hardison had been hopped up on so much caffeine he could practically see through time and most of what they'd been saying had sounded like a teacher from the old Peanuts cartoons.

After almost twelve hours of solid sleep, a shower that felt great even though it was cold, and a breakfast that was too good to have come from the camp stove Eliot had cooked it on, Hardison was starting to feel like a person again. He was standing in the living room, staring out the window and sipping his cocoa. "We can fix up the guest room for the girls again," he was saying. "Let 'em stay with us. An' Luke's is busted, but the freezer's still workin' an' folks can get to--oh shit!"

That oh shit? Was for the two--no three--was that four sharks being propelled through the air towards their house. At high speed. "Get down!" he yelled flinging himself behind the couch, just before a total of five sharks slammed through the front walls of the house and causing serious structural damage to most of the downstairs.

He should have stayed in the library.

[For them that are there!]
geniuswithasmartphone: (Injured)
So this day was all kinds of fired. First, Hardison had met some crazy, murder hobo version of his boyfriend in the park and had gotten to have not-so happy funtimes with the wrong end baseball bat. And then on his way home, he'd kept seeing things out of the corner of his eye, but when he'd turned to see what was out there, there was absolutely nothing.

Was that a sign of a concussion? He was pretty sure that was a sign of a concussion. Or maybe some kind of brain swelling thing. Or was brain swelling what a concussion was? He couldn't remember off the top of his head and that was probably a bad sign, too. And staring at a computer screen would just make his headache worse and he was already squinting out of his left eye, as bruised and blackened as that one was and rather than look up Web MD and discover that he had some form of cancer, he was going to rest right here on Eliot's couch and steal Eliot's last sandwich and use Eliot's good William's Sonoma handtowel to wrap around the ice he was holding against his bruised face.

Hardison...might have been a tad grumpy at Eliot, yes, even though it wasn't, technically speaking, his fault a crazy version of him had kicked Hardison's ass earlier. Not that being grumpy kept Hardison out of Eliot's house and waiting for either of his partners to come home so he could demand cuddles and sympathy.

Man, he wished he had some kind of neat superpower so he could see when the island was going to go crazy and ruin his whole goddamn day.

[For the crew, please!]
geniuswithasmartphone: (Hiding (Noah))
He was not hiding. The Brood were proud and fierce warriors and Brood!Hardison was no exception. He was simply biding his time, waiting for the transformation to complete unimpeded. The host weakened him, made him doubt and hesitate, sometimes even dared to drown out the Hivemind with his puling and wailing. It was...inconvenient. And really, really annoying. Like, really. If he found his thoughts accidentally drifting to the human he'd fought yesterday one more time he would do something drastic.

Still, he could feel presence of another Brood through the Hivemind approaching. Better yet, it belonged to the host 'Parker' who might just shut his host up. Silence would be a blessed, blessed relief by this point. And this was coming from a creature who was part of a damn Hivemind.


[For one, please!]
geniuswithasmartphone: (Hacking Gives Me Joy)
So after twenty fruitless minutes of trying to find what sim Eliot had jumped into next (while telling his stupid brain that of course Eliot jumped to a new one, death wasn't a thing here, they hadn't seen a single shred of evidence--though he had no idea what had happened to Pinkie, hadn't seen hide nor hair of her, either, not in any sim at all...), Hardison knew that he needed to search for something else to keep himself from going crazy.

And if he wasn't looking for Eliot, then he was looking for Parker. That was just the way of things. He was a lodestone and his crew was his magnetic north.

He settled in for what would likely be another useless search (no one found Parker when she didn't want to be found, dammit) only to have the virtual heavens open up and smile on his for the first time in days. Because his girl was there. Right there. In the Fandom matrix, blazing down the street in a souped up Hennessey Venom GT and practically hooting as she slammed it into the side of a building. The car and the building went up in a gout of fire and oily black smoke, but Parker had bailed at the last minute and was now cackling maniacally at the destruction.

God he loved her. His heart almost hurt with how much he loved her. He might have to put a little more effort into looking up weddings he could steal for her because damn.

He was shrugging into the remains of his tattered leather trenchcoat, bitching about the scorched holes in the leather from yesterday's explosion, when his alarm went off--Eliot had been spotted somewhere in the Matrix. He flung himself to the computer, pulling up coordinates to find his beloved idiot, ready to snatch him out of wherever he was stuck and drag him by his hair if necessary--only to see that he had ended up on the same street that Parker had just sauntered onto. He watched Parker's code fling herself at Eliot's with a smile and a wateriness to his eye that he would go to his grave swearing was allergies.

Okay. No more hiding behind his computer. His crew was back--time to go ruin Zinyak's whole day.

[For the reunion, pls!]
geniuswithasmartphone: (Chin on Fist Side-Eye)
Eliot was looking pretty terrible. Despite Hardison's insistence that he wasn't going to feed Eliot again after the never-to-be-discussed Pork Rind Incident (c'mon man! There were just some things you didn't do to pork rinds! Or your friends! Even friends that tased you and tied you to a chair!), that insistence didn't mean much when your best friend looked like he was gonna keel over at any minute.

"Yo," he said, standing a safe distance back. "Eliot. You feelin' okay, man? You thirsty? I ain't gonna feed you--" such lies. If Eliot said he was hungry, Hardison was a soft enough touch that he'd try to feed him anyway. "--but I can get you something you drink?"

But that drink would possibly be orange soda, because soft touch or not, Hardison was also spiteful.

"You know, dude, this could all be over if you just told us what the heck was going on."

It was possible that Hardison and Parker didn't really have an endgame here, beyond keeping him tied up for...indefinitely?



geniuswithasmartphone: (Default)

August 2017



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