Wait, Alec texts back. Again? He shakes his cellphone, just in case the message has been hanging out in the ether for the past couple of years. Not even Eliot would- you know what, never mind. Anyway, a couple of years ago, Alec wouldn’t have been the one waking up to the ‘come get me’ messages.
His phone vibrates. Different bar.
Alec replies: Did they insult your hair?
He throws his jacket on and hunts for his wallet in the dark. Keys, keys, where are his damn keys?
The phone goes again. u’re not as funny as you think u r.
This is probably true, if only because Alec knows he is pretty damn hilarious, and also that there are only so many places to go with ‘Eliot being beaten up by a bunch of girls’ jokes. They’re kind of beneath him. So instead he sends back: Your grip on text-speak is really weird, you know that? Apostrophe but u?
There’s a silence of ten or fifteen minutes before the phone starts buzzing around on the seat beside him. look can i send the address or not? U want me to call sumone else?
Weird, twitchy, paranoid insecure team-mates who… Alec grumbles to himself as he climbs out of the car. Eliot is lounging outside against the wall with a bruised cheek and a sour expression. Alec waves his phone in Eliot’s face. “GPS, baby. You think I need an address? You could send ‘come get me’ from the top of the damn Himalayas and I’d still find you.” That’s not necessarily one hundred percent true, but it’s close enough. He might need to hack a few satellite controllers first. It might take a little longer. He’d still get there.
Eliot hasn’t stopped glowering, but Alec reasons that a smile would probably make his face hurt more.
Alec stands back and waves towards the car. “Ice pack on the back seat.”
Eliot musters up a grunt that might have been thanks.
“You’re welcome. But try to be more inventive next time. Punch up in a lesbian bar just doesn’t get me running like it used to.”
Eliot holds the icepack to his face and slouches low in the seat. He mutters, “You still turned up quick enough.”
Different Bar [Leverage; Alec and Eliot; PG-13]
His phone vibrates. Different bar.
Alec replies: Did they insult your hair?
He throws his jacket on and hunts for his wallet in the dark. Keys, keys, where are his damn keys?
The phone goes again. u’re not as funny as you think u r.
This is probably true, if only because Alec knows he is pretty damn hilarious, and also that there are only so many places to go with ‘Eliot being beaten up by a bunch of girls’ jokes. They’re kind of beneath him. So instead he sends back: Your grip on text-speak is really weird, you know that? Apostrophe but u?
There’s a silence of ten or fifteen minutes before the phone starts buzzing around on the seat beside him. look can i send the address or not? U want me to call sumone else?
Weird, twitchy, paranoid insecure team-mates who… Alec grumbles to himself as he climbs out of the car. Eliot is lounging outside against the wall with a bruised cheek and a sour expression. Alec waves his phone in Eliot’s face. “GPS, baby. You think I need an address? You could send ‘come get me’ from the top of the damn Himalayas and I’d still find you.” That’s not necessarily one hundred percent true, but it’s close enough. He might need to hack a few satellite controllers first. It might take a little longer. He’d still get there.
Eliot hasn’t stopped glowering, but Alec reasons that a smile would probably make his face hurt more.
Alec stands back and waves towards the car. “Ice pack on the back seat.”
Eliot musters up a grunt that might have been thanks.
“You’re welcome. But try to be more inventive next time. Punch up in a lesbian bar just doesn’t get me running like it used to.”
Eliot holds the icepack to his face and slouches low in the seat. He mutters, “You still turned up quick enough.”