fandomtownies | Luke's Diner, Saturday

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Luke's Diner, Saturday

Hardison missed the fact that, for the second time in a year, aliens were hovering over head. He'd still been in bed when Parker left--not his usual Saturday morning laziness, but the kind of determined refusal to get out of bed and face the day with all the knowledge of yesterday along with it. Finally, though, his hunger outweighed even his stubbornness, and he'd pulled on some clothes and made his way slowly down to the diner.

"What?" he asked the staff, who all had their noses pressed against the glass. The busboy just kind of waved at him, but Hardison was too busy putting together a plate to notice. And even so--his natural inclination towards curiosity was a little squashed right now.

Today's Specials
Asparagus, Potato, and Onion Frittata
Feta and Bacon Stuffed Chicken with Onion Mashed Potatoes
Breakfast Strata

It wasn't until he got Anakin's email that he realized something bigger was going on. "Dammit," he groaned. "Really, Fandom? Really? Ain't in the mood to run around nekkid again."

[OCD free]

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Eliot came in spinning his sword behind him, flicking a wave of brood gore onto the cobblestones outside like a man wiping his feet before coming into the house. He was riding the sort of manic high that came with getting to take your frustrations out on an enemy you weren't ethically opposed to killing and he looked it, from the way his hair frizzed and flew in every direction -- he hadn't had the chance to pull it back out of his face yet -- to the bright, almost feverish glint in his eye. And, you know, the vicious killer grin that made his kitchen staff back away slowly.

"Front seating area's clear," he announced. "Everyone in here alright?"

How did one tell their boyfriend they looked like a serial killer right out of a movie with the word 'Massacre' in the title and a number at the end?

"Well, you're the scariest thing we seen yet today, so...yes?"

Like that, apparently.

Eliot blinked.

"Scariest -- man, have you looked outside?"

Fandom gave them an invasion, Hardison! Something they got to fight! Sure, it wasn't Kathy's zombies, but it'd do in a pinch!

"Got the email," he said, waving his phone. "So why would I go an' do that?"

Were any of them injured? No? Then clearly they weren't meant for him to fight!

Several of the ones Eliot had fought -- well no. Those were all dead.

"Ain't infiltrated the buildings, then," Eliot decided. "Good to know."

"Well, not yet," Hardison said. "Why you gotta go say that, man? You're practically invitin' one to come in, just to mess with you. Why not go check out some strange noise you heard in the basement that you're certain is the wind while you're at it."

Eliot rolled his eyes. "So if they come in here, I'll take 'em out." He looked entirely too pleased by the prospect. "These things ain't that tough. I'm guessin' it's just one of those one day things. Like the flying eels."

"I don't like it," he said in the same tones he'd use for fresh air. "Parker's out there in that mess."

"Parker can handle herself." Eliot's phone beeped and he took a look at the incoming text. ". . . Or she got herself stung. They sting?"

Look, you didn't see tentacles and think "stingers", okay?

Hardison just looked at him. "Man, I ain't even seen one, I ain't your xenobiology expert!"

"What put you in a mood?" Hardison's lack of manic enthusiasm for the theraputic nature of killing aliens was ruining Eliot's good mood. "This is somethin' we can actually take care of."

Hardison was...still staring, yes. His TA was still stuck in a zombie movie with no current hope of rescue, aliens were invading, and now their girlfriend had been stung by aliens. Who knew what kind of gross diseases those things had anyway!

"We can't all punch things into a better mood!" he sputtered.

"Yeah well, don't knock it till ya've tried it," Eliot grumbled. "Keep the doors locked. I'll go see if I can find Parker."

There was a crash in the kitchen as the loading door was smashed in.

"Okay," Eliot said. "Change of plans."

"Panic an' run shrieking for cover?" Hardison asked hopefully, snatching up a roasting skewer as long as his forearm.

"When has 'panic' or 'shrieking' ever solved anything?" Eliot asked. A brood queen and three sleazoids could be seen smashing through the kitchen through the order window. Eliot dropped into a crouch and raised his sword. "Cover's good, though!"

"There's always a first time for everythin'!" Hardison protested. "I ain't never battled ugly things like this before an' yet it's happenin'! Maybe these guys' secret vulnerability is high-pitched, manly screams!"

"I thought you were going to hide?" Eliot pointed out, maneuvering to keep himself between Hardison and the kitchen. One of the sleazoids burst through the kitchen doors ahead of the queen, and Eliot neatly chopped it in half with his sword. Really, these things wouldn't be too difficult if there weren't so damned many of them.

"This is like the tentacle monster thing all over again!" Hardison accused. "Where I do somethin' stupid like stand an' fight cause I love you!"

From, like, three steps behind Eliot, yes, but still! Standing! And fighting! Instead of running! And hiding!

And also whirling around as five more sleazoids burst in through the front, causing the staff to scream and scatter. "Now we can go?"

"The tentacle monster was contained in the freezer," Eliot pointed out. "I'm tryin' to cover your retreat, here!"

Fighting monsters was much less cathartic when he had to worry about Hardison at the same time.

Eliot took out two more of the sleazoids in quick succession as they tried to dart past him, and managed to knock a third back with a kick to the midsection, sending it flying into the lunch counter.

"There's no point in fighting," the queen hissed. "Except to show us how skilled our new offspring will be."

"Oh great. Now they do villain speeches too."

SORRY TO RUIN YOUR GOOD TIME KILLINATING ALIENS WITH HIS EXISTENCE, ELIOT.

"Great, that just up the creepy factor by a million," Hardison said, slashing at one of the sleazoids with his skewer. More by luck than skill, he managed to blind it, then followed Eliot's example by kicking it. Again, more by luck than skill, the sleazoid went flying directly into the Queen.

"Hell yeah!" Hardison cheered. "That's what I'm talkin' about! Don't mess with me, yo!"

Eliot nodded, impressed. Hardison's form could use . . . a lot of work, but that took some decent guts. Another sleazoid lunged at them, and Eliot skewered it, then had to spend an extra few moments yanking his sword back out.

Leaving a perfect opening for the queen to stab her tentacle right at Hardison.

"hurk" Such a small sound, barely noticeable over the general fighting din. Hardison looked down in horror as the Queen's stinger embedded itself in his gut. "Uhh...Eliot? Little help..."

Eliot was still dealing with the sleazoids and didn't notice that little noise right away. "Kinda busy here, Hardis --" Oh.

It was too bad the brood weren't intimidated by the scary thing Eliot did with his eyes. Because he'd never to date managed to get it scarier.

The tentacle -- and the brood queen to whom it was attached -- was reduced to pieces very, very quickly. Mostly to clear a path between Eliot and Hardison. He stabbed the last sleazoid almost absently with a quick thrust over his shoulder, his eyes glued to Hardison's stomach. "It's alright," he was saying the whole time. "It's okay, it doesn't -- it doesn't look bad."

Because the fact that Eliot was babbling definitely wasn't a forboding sign or anything.

"Right," Hardison said, falling to his knees. "Stabbing in the gut. Totally fun." He clutched his abdomen, watching his shirt turn red as blood poured from his fingers. "Next time, I'm runnin'."

But, hey, he wasn't toppling over quite yet. Bonus?

"That's what I told you to do!" Eliot pointed out. He tossed his sword -- his prized, beloved Hanzo sword -- to one side and caught Hardison by the shoulders. "Don't just hold it, man, put pressure on it." He let go long enough to pull of his shirt and ball it up, then pushed Hardison's hands out of the way, anyway, trying to get a look at the injury. "I know wounds, man, this ain't bad. It --" He paused, lip twitching, and when he met Hardison's eyes, he wasn't just trying to reassure him anymore. "It ain't bad. It's gonna hurt like a bitch, but unless you're weirder on the inside than I know 'bout, it didn't hit anything major."

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Luke's Diner, Saturday

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