So Done With This
Alec Hardison age_of_the_geek
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The New Headquarters of Leverage, Inc, (The Apartment Above Lukes), Monday
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!


2015-04-06 08:59 pm (UTC) (Link)

"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!


2015-04-06 09:03 pm (UTC) (Link)

"You a doctor now?" Hardison asked thickly. "I musta missed your trip through med school. Well done, girl, get that advanced degree. I'd'a been at your commencement, but I was laid up, fighing off super-bronchitis or whatever this is."

Hardison was a terrible, terrible patient.


2015-04-06 09:06 pm (UTC) (Link)

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."


2015-04-06 09:13 pm (UTC) (Link)

"Rant, woman? Rant?! This ain't no rant! This is an impassioned, one-sided conversation about my own physical well-being that--"

Unfortunately, the rest of Hardison's undeniable rant was lost to a bout of coughing that had him resting weakly against the pillow Parker had just provided.

"Ain't no rant," he rasped. "S'just hurtful."


2015-04-06 09:17 pm (UTC) (Link)

Parker stroked his hair, because that did not require a medical degree.


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?


2015-04-06 09:21 pm (UTC) (Link)

"Could you get me another bottle of soda, babe?" he asked, curling into her a little. Stroking his head would show, dramatics notwithstanding, he was running a decent fever. "My throat is dry and sore."

And drinking soda would fix that in a jiffy! Absolutely!


2015-04-06 09:31 pm (UTC) (Link)

"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."

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2015-04-06 09:11 pm (UTC) (Link)

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.


2015-04-06 09:18 pm (UTC) (Link)

Was there to be no end to his suffering, Lord?

"Yeah," he said, not even looking at Eliot. He was prone on the couch, eyes closed so the light would maybe stop hammering his brain into mush. "Got up, ran a marathon, rescued some cats from trees. I just laid back here for a brief nap after a hard day of--oh wait no. I ain't moved because I am sick an' feel like crap!"

Just because neither Eliot nor Parker understood the concept of bedrest didn't mean that Hardison needed to ascribe to their ideas of 'rub some dirt in the offending part and call it good.'


2015-04-06 09:28 pm (UTC) (Link)

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."


2015-04-06 09:33 pm (UTC) (Link)

"Well, maybe if I wasn't surrounded by folks who kept askin' me stupid-ass questions that require that as an answer, I could save my breath," Hardison snapped.

Actualfax Care Bear Hardison had apparently landed on 'Grumpy Bear' today.


2015-04-06 09:39 pm (UTC) (Link)

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."


2015-04-06 10:28 pm (UTC) (Link)

Hardison refrained from pointing out that Eliot's last reaction to having 'people that cared about his well-being' had gotten him tased and tied to a chair--but only just. Eliot was lucky that he was more distracted at the prospect of sitting up.

"Can't sit up," he protested. "My head is poundin' and I am not ready for the 1812 Overture in my temples. Besides, if it's soup, I ain't hungry. I'm tired of soup. It's borin'. Just pass me another Squeeze Orange an' I'll be fine."


2015-04-06 10:37 pm (UTC) (Link)

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."


2015-04-07 03:08 am (UTC) (Link)

"I like solid foods..." Hardison agreed, struggling to push himself a little more upright. It was actually a struggle and he had to pause and groan when he moved too fast. "And don't knock Squeeze Orange. It's got vitamins! It's orange!"

Vitamin C had to be involved in there somewhere, didn't it?

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