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For the past eleven days (but who was counting?) Hardison had...not been himself. Instead, he'd been a teddy bear, lugged around in Eliot's messenger bag or cuddled--yes! cuddled!--by Eliot whenever he was at home. In point of fact, Hardison was still a teddy bear and Eliot had dragged him around outside today, into the preserve, surrounded by bugs and pollen and all sorts of nonsense. Hardison!bear hadn't had to deal with it, exactly, being a stuffed bear and all and yet--
Well, Hardison-bear was feeling quite discontented. Inasmuch as a teddy bear could be disgruntled about anything. His Wuv you's were getting snippy and his Beary muches were downright snarky. Funny, for how much Hardison was a living Care Bear when he was himself, he was certainly aggravated by being relegated to such now.
[For the crew, please!]
Well, Hardison-bear was feeling quite discontented. Inasmuch as a teddy bear could be disgruntled about anything. His Wuv you's were getting snippy and his Beary muches were downright snarky. Funny, for how much Hardison was a living Care Bear when he was himself, he was certainly aggravated by being relegated to such now.
[For the crew, please!]
