fandomtownies | Luke's, Monday

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Luke's, Monday

A large portion of the island's population was off on the spring break trip, and the boss was still a wolverine. Time for the Luke's kitchen staff to throw themselves a party!

The busboy wanted a late Valentine's Day party. The cook was campaigning for early St. Patrick's Day. The dishwasher didn't care, so long as there was plenty of cabbage involved.

Eliot didn't care either. He was too busy tearing into a month's supply of frozen bone-in meat goods in a corner booth.

Today's specials
~~Corned beef hash~~
~~Rack of lamb~~
Irish soda bread
Chocolate fountain

Luke's was open. Especially if you weren't hoping for steak.

[spring break = no OCD, wheeeee!]

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Hardison came in from the street with Val on a leash. She still needed walks and he wasn't about to entrust his precious angel puppy to a wolverine on a leash, even if that wolverine was Eliot. He was, however, going to call her Megabyte and sometimes slip her bits of food, just to see if the sheer frustration of it all could make Eliot transform back any faster.

"Yo!" he called into the kitchen. "We got any meat that ain't been claimed by Animal Planet here? Cause otherwise I'm eatin' a Hot Pocket for lunch." Soda bread. Who the hell wanted to eat something called soda bread?

Eliot looked up from his meat, narrowed his eyes at Hardison, and growled. The cook shrugged.

"He hasn't gotten to the chicken," he offered. "You don't want to know what he did to the box of Hot Pockets back there, though."

Eliot licked his chops and tore at his ham hock.

"You are so damn hateful," Hardison informed his boyfriend. "Don't think that me an' Megabyte don't know that was on purpose." Glancing down at the dog, he cooed, "You don't want chicken, do you girl? You want pepperoni, dontcha? Nice, fatty, preservative-laden pepperoni."

Parker was eating Lucky Charms out of the box again, and hummed, watching Eliot. She had her phone open and filming. "I can't believe he missed the whole sexy-times week. That's as bad as me missing Christmas."

"Believe me, mama," Hardison said, giving her an appreciative smile. Hey, it didn't have to be a pollen week for Hardison to recognize that he had a good thing going on here. "I'm disappointed on both counts. We couldn't find half the jewels we needed to decorate the tree!"

Seriously, if he turned into a meerkat for Easter or something, no one was allowed to say a word.

Yeah, because that would stop either one of them. Please.

Eliot looked up from the meat he was decimating, made a noise not unlike a cat coughing up a hairball -- and turned back into himself. Naked, on a table, surrounded by the remains of his diner's entire frozen meat stock.

"Dammit, Fandom."

Parker grinned at him, and reached over to pat his hair. "You're back! And sticky." She poked at his shoulder. "And naked. It's like the Island is trying to make it up to us!"

"I'd like to officially wait until Eliot's had a shower before the island officially starts makin' up for anything," Hardison said, raising his hand like he was waiting to be called on in class.

Of course, he immediately stood up and gave Eliot a hug, but whatever. That was different. "Here," he added, shrugging off his t-shirt and handing it over. "I mean, unless you wanna keep givin' the dishwasher a show..."

The dishwasher didn't even bother turning away from the sink to flip Hardison off.

Eliot grumbled something about health code violations while he pulled Hardison's shirt on. And made a point not to notice the fact that said shirt was plenty long enough to maintain his dignity when he stood up. Stupid tall boyfriends.

"Make up for what?" he asked. As a wolverine, he'd been rather blissfully immune to any pollen.

"It was sexy-sexy-sexy make-outs week again," Parker shared. Or overshared as she went on, "We had sex every day and I think we broke our record for new places! It would've been even more if we weren't keeping track of you while you ate everything and snarled."

"I still don't know how you convinced me to get in that vent, yo," Hardison said, though the expression on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck suggested that he wasn't entirely opposed to however it had happened. "An' the next time you leave a half-eaten, like, deer carcass in the bed, we're hangin' you out a window by your damn scruff."

"Sexy what?" Eliot asked, then scowled as he remembered. "Dammit, Fandom!" Then he coughed up a small hunk of bone and groaned. "Ain't sure I'll be eatin' venison again, anyway."

He was going to be going full on vegan for at least, like, three days, here. Wolverines ate a lot of meat.

Parker kicked at the bone and then said, "You still want to make up for disappearing on us though, right? After you shower?" She looked over at Hardison. "We could take him up on the roof!"

"Parker, I don't know if I'm ready for the roof again!" Hardison protested.

...The roof had involved a lot of yelling. Most of it had been good yelling. Most of it.

"But I'm definitely all about the shower thing. You been a stoat or whatever for about a week. An' you got a bit of meat juice..." He hesitated, then just gestured to everywhere. "'Bout right there."

"Not a stoat," Eliot grumbled. Because wolverines as a rule had a really good idea of what they were called by humans. He eased himself up off the table and faintly missed having claws. "Shower. Definitely. And I gotta make sure you two didn't destroy anything while I was. . . ." He glanced back at the mess on the table and turned faintly green. ". . . destroying things."

"We would never." Parker's rendition of that was a lot less convincing than Sophie's.

"You can trust us!" His was even less convincing than that.

Eliot's sigh would have done Nate proud.

"S'pose you were too busy makin' it like bunnies to do too much damage."

"And minks. And monkeys. Especially when we were on the roof," Parker confirmed, knocking her shoulder into his. "Let's get you upstairs, and we can prove it."

"Uhh, yeah!" Hardison agreed, trying not to give the lunch counter any guilty looks. "Upstairs. Where we had all the sex. There."

Eliot sighed again. "Bleach everything," he told the staff, and headed for the stairs to the loft.

The soles of his feet were sticky. He hated everything.

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Luke's, Monday

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