singularityderp | so there was this once drunk party last night...

[Eliot exhaled noisily and slowly eased himself into a sitting position. Some mornings, sleeping off a hangover didn't work. Having a disagreeable bedmate elbowing him in the ribs was generally a good reason to start his day early.] Morning, darling. [Charming lady-killer drawl, go.]

[Hardison was a pretty quick thinker when it came to getting himself out of trouble. Unfortunately this ability was not available during a hangover...and there was really nothing to say to that sexy, deep, familiar, country drawl coming over his shoulder.

He couldn't stop himself.

He opened an eye and turned just far enough to get a good look at nude Eliot sitting over him. ~~Okay the tousled hair look was really pretty cash but alksjf.~~]

Morning...? [What. Do. You. Even. Say?]

[Eliot had been warming up a smile (surprisingly difficult with a pounding headache, but hey, he suffers for the ladies) but when he hears Hardison's voice, he stiffens up. Harison. In his bed. ...Is this his bed? Where the hell is he? What the hell is going on.]

What the hell, Hardison. [Spastic retreat. Oh wait, he's naked. And his retreat has pulled the blanket off of the hacker enough that Eliot is pretty sure he's naked as well.]

[Hardison is not particularly body-shy on normal days. That said, this was not a normal day and that was naked Eliot standing there gaping at him and the sheet was getting away. It wasn't particularly dignified, and his head throbbed violently, but he dove and grabbed the sheet before it could slip much past his hip.

Once it was in his grasp, he was not letting that go.]

You tell me, man. [Hardison's expression was unreadable and frozen. It hovered somewhere between WTF-EVEN and OHAY. After a beat:]

Did you...kiss my neck?

[Hardison, it's a damn good thing you don't have a mirror. Unfortunately, there's one behind you and Eliot can get a good long look at all the ridiculous hickeys and girly looking scratch marks you've managed to put on him. Somewhere in Hardison's subconscious, he was hoping there was a naked lady hiding under the bed.

Unlikely.]

I thought you were a woman because that is more likely than me waking up next to you. What the hell were you doing in my-- [Guess who just caught sight of his reflection? Eliot freezes, something between horror and realization on his face. He turns away abruptly, very much on a mission to find some clothes before this conversation is (hopefully not) continued. His back is more scratched to hell than his front is.]

[Hardison recoiled (with a quiet, semi-sympathetic, hand stifled 'OH-DA'YUM') and just stared at Eliot's back in abject horror. Something ticked through in his brain and he realized that, if there was no woman under the bed, he made those marks.

He abandoned the sheet and was up, looking for the nearest pair of pants before he could follow that train of thought much farther. Oh man, his legs were seriously wobbly.]

Hey, whatever man--ain't been mistaken for a girl before, but whatever you got to tell yourself. It's cool'.

[And he meant that.

WHERE WERE HIS PANTS? AWKWARD.]

[A preliminary search turned up no clothes beyond socks, which was... quite frankly a little bit worrying. He winced as he turned the bathroom light on. No clothes. He stuck his hands under the tap to rinse his face off. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of his throat and the massive quantities of hickeys therein. He could see individual teeth marks in some spots. He did not want to think of the implications ~~at this time~~.]

[Back to the mystery of the disappearing clothes. Eliot wrapped a towel around his waist and poked his head into the hallway. Sure enough... there was a shirt, and further down, some pants. Well this was... telling. Scavenger hunt time.]

[Hardison hadn't managed to find anything in the...bedroom. He rounded the corner just as Eliot left the bathroom. Okay. It's cool. Just. Be cool. With...no pants.

Despite his nigh overwhelming urge to dive for the pants and put them on as quickly as humanly possible, he was well aware of the that that he'd already elbowed Eliot (*hungover Eliot) in the side this morning. He really didn't need to push his luck.

Even if those were his.]

Uh--you just...go on ahead. First. Man.

[Looking casual while straight up naked was pretty challenging.]

[Eliot glared at him silently. As if he needed an invitation to put his own pants on. His briefs were, thankfully, hidden right beneath the denim. He pulled his clothes on, then tossed the towel at Hardison as he made his way down the hall without a word. He stooped to collect discarded clothing as he went, stopped briefly at a point in the wall where the plaster was cracked and the pictures around the area were crooked, then continued. He might not have remembered a minute of what happened, but his mind was doing its best to paint a very, very vivid picture.]

[The trail of breadcrumbs lead all the way to the lobby of the building. A helpful droid zipped over to him and deposited the remainder of Hardison's clothes, and zipped away again before he had the chance to fully react. Robots. He still had no clue what to do with them.]

[He made his way back to the room, shoved the wad of clothes against Hardison's chest, and walked away without a word. He was going to take a shower and nothing was going to stop him.]

[Eliot just shoved his clothes at him and dove into the bathroom. Hardison wasn't entirely certain how to feel about that but he didn't really give himself much time to think it over. Clothing. Now. All this standing around naked was not good for his mental stability, baby.

The shower came on just as Hardison managed to get his overshirt on. It was wrinkled beyond belief and he spent a little too much time trying to get it to lay flat again. Nothing he did really helped.

He debated just booking out but...given how likely it was that the computer was going to lock him out of all the buildings as soon as he did.... Dammit.

Hardison glanced at the bathroom door and quickly removed his shirt. It didn't take him long to find the ironing board and iron.

If he was going to get locked outside and have to chat with people, he was not going to look like he got ~~ravished~~ ~~jumped~~ ~~sexed up~~ had a night with a singing cowboy. Even if he had.]

[Eliot pulled his jeans up his still-damp thighs and got his shirt as high as his face before the pungent smell of alcohol and Hardison assailed his nose. He let it drop to the floor guiltily. He was supposed to keep in control at all times. He was supposed to protect the team. Had he hurt Hardison? He hadn't even thought to ask.]

[Well. He would just have to track the hacker down and have a serious heart to heart with him. Thankfully the walk would give him enough time to get his thoughts in ord--

Or not. Ironing. Seriously.]

What? [His lip twitched in annoyance.]

[Off to a great start.]

[Hardison had, admittedly, gotten far too caught up in making that shirt look finely pressed. Whether it was in an effort to ignore his slowly fading headache, or just because he thought any single imperfection would give away every juicy detail about his night of vigorous mansex with his teammate, he wasn't sure. Either way, he didn't notice when Eliot finished the shower.

Didn't notice Eliot until he spoke, and then Hardison just barely managed to keep from jumping six inches straight up. BE CHILL. He was usually so much more chill. Why was it so hard to be chill?]

Oh--hay, man. [Great. Like you just happened to still be here...pressing dress shirts. Good Job.]

Just finished up--iron's all...yours. [And Eliot was wearing jeans and no t-shirt. Well. Right. Not...really...in need of ironing. Kay.]

[Did Hardison just flinch at him. Perfect. Just. Perfect.]

[The glare on his face had less to do with Hardison, and more to do with the pounding headache and lack of inspiration on how to breach the drunken sex topic. That glare was probably intense enough to melt lead.]

[He stalked over to the bed, tore the comforter off, and shook it out.] Have you seen my bandanna? [Now he was headed in the right direc- no wait. No he wasn't.]

Uh--yeah, actually. [Shiiit. Eliot looked ready to actually start shooting at him. That was. Probably. Bad. Hardison is just going to be as helpful as possible before disappearing off the face of the Earth for a while, man.

He darted around Eliot over to the side of the bed he'd been sleeping on and knelt quickly. That was a bad move and he halted for a minute as his head decided to punish him for moving too fast. After that brief interlude, he stood up and had the aforementioned bandanna in hand.

He...wasn't even going to comment on...whatever that was. On it. Just....going to hand that back. Casually.

Yup.]

[Eliot followed Hardison's movements like a boxer waiting for an opening. He analyzed the information as it came, looking for signs of injury. Nothing too serious. Good.]

[He seized Hardison's wrist to prevent him from backing away.]

Hey. Are you okay? [The hacker looked afraid of him. His glare intensified as a counterproductive result.]

[OKAY, FREAKING RIGHT THE HELL OUT NOW.

Hardison just--freezes. There's some primal logic that tells him this is the correct course of action. Eliot can't see him if he's still, right? Wait.... It actually takes him a moment to even process the question, he's so startled.

Eliot wanted to know if he was okay? Why...oh god, so he could hit him? Hardison was delicate, man, and he'd just ironed this shirt. He really didn't want to bleed all over it. Would Hypatia let him in to the urgent care if Eliot broke his nose? He was going to have to get Dillinger to open the door for him.

He was going to have to explain his drunken mansex adventures to a judgmental hipster while he was bleeding all over everything.

Today was just not his day, man. Not. His. Day.]

Uh...

[Eliot still had his wrist in a vice-grip. FFFUUUUUUU--THINK FAST. Helpful. Being helpful was good.]

Know what, man...I'll just uh...wash this and give it back to you later. Sound cool?

[NO NEED TO HIT ME, BRO. IT'S KAY.]

Shirt too--you know, since I'll be doing laundry...and...all that.

[Eliot jerked his hand away from Hardison like it burned. Under normal circumstances, an interrogation going this well would have pleased him immensely. But this was a team mate and friend frozen in terror, not a Croatian spy, and this was not supposed to be an interrogation. He never thought he would be in this position again.]

I--

[He put some distance between them, turned his back, relaxed his shoulders. Verbal communication was kind of falling through at the moment. He was pretty sure he would yell if he tried, and he was frustrated with himself for the lack of control. Deep breaths.]

Are. You. Okay. Physically. Mentally. [Cold was better than livid, but under the circumstances... not by much.]

[Okay, this was getting really, really weird. Considering they woke up naked, with Eliot spooning him...it was already pretty freakin' weird up in here. Hardison cast a quick glance over his shoulder--he had his clothes on. He could make a break for it...was Eliot faster than him on foot?

Probably.

And what was that voice? That was his negotiating with Moreau voice. The one he was using when they'd chained him to a chair and shoved him in a pool. And he'd turned away--aw man. This wasn't good. Eliot was...not taking this well...at all. Think fast, Hardison, think fast. This was your friend, man--jumping out a window? Not a solution.

Good news, though. All this panic had done away with Hardison's headache.]

Hey, Eliot, man--[What do you even say to the friend you slept with who was having an episode about it? This was...just...going to end badly. Okay, Hardison, man up. You got this, baby, you got this.]--you can... [Wince. Swallow.] Uh, deck me if you really need to, that's cool.

If this is all that stone cold ridiculous for you and all, I get it. Just don't break anything that I'll need later, like my whole face, or anything...like that. [A beat.] We are bros, man.

[Hardison is just going to take a deep breath (exhaled with an audible woooooo) and close his eyes like a man on the shooting range. Okay, he may be cringed/braced for impact...but Eliot was big, man. Eliot was livid like Hardison had never seen and he'd rather take a punch or two and move on than just let him go and get bitter about it.

Last thing he needed was a disgruntled ladies' man out to get his black ass.]

[Eliot kind of wanted to punch some holes in the wall, but he doubted it would ease Hardison's mind as much as it would soothe him. He stared at a crack in the plaster and counted down from five before responding through clenched teeth.] Hardison. I'm not going to hit you. I just want to know... [There goes the lip twitch.] If. I. Hurt you last night.

[Hardison only heard the important part of all that.]

Wait--for real? You're not going to just...beat the hell out of me or anything? No playin'?

[Hardison sagged in relief and took a seat on the edge of the bed. The whoosh of air that came out of him sounded strangely like: Thank the lord. Now that he was seated--man, his arms and legs felt like jelly and he was just a little shaky.

But he wasn't getting beaten up today.

That--that was what was important.]

Man I thought for sure you were going to just go for the kidneys. Just get a good one in. WOOO. I can't even, aw man.

[Oh wait. What was that other part Eliot was talking about? Hardison backtracked through their conversation and gaped a little. It was good he couldn't blush much because his neck up was suddenly hot like the sun. He swallowed and patted down his torso like he was looking for bullet holes.

He...hadn't really...thought about it. He was still on an adrenaline high, so nothing hurt...but that wasn't surprising. Had anything hurt earlier? Uh.... He remembered being sore in quite a few...places but, even with as much as he liked to complain, it wasn't life threatening or anything.]

Uh...no?

[But he'd sure scratched the hell out of you, Eliot. He just looks all kinds of awkwardly apologetic upon realizing that.]

[Eliot did not turn around, but his relief was evident in slow easing of coiled muscles. Hardison seemed to be back to normal, and that was good. Normal was good. Maybe he hadn't traumatized his team to the point of no return.]

Well.

Good.

[Yes. That was...good.

Now that they'd established that Eliot didn't plan on beating up Hardison, and that he wasn't hurt or anything from the...yeah. There was just silence. Hardison was rapidly coming down off his adrenaline high and, while he was appreciative of the fact that Eliot straight up told him there would be no punching today, he still planned to tread lightly.

For a while.

As it was. There was nothing else to say that didn't make Hardison want to pass out from sheer embarrassment. That silence? After about a minute...it got really, palpably awkward.

Was he...supposed to ask Eliot the same thing? It was pretty unlikely but...hey maybe Eliot had...soreness. Also.

Um. Was it cool to just.........go? Hardison had never been in this situation before so he was completely out of the loop on how to actually deal with it. Unfortunately, he couldn't just...not talk to Eliot again. Eliot was his friend (probably his best friend, if he was being completely honest about it) and awkward as this was...on...pretty much every level that existed....

He still wanted to be Eliot's friend.

Hardison opened his mouth, stared at Eliot's back, closed his mouth, and then opened it again. After a good, solid four minutes of nothing, Hardison broke the silence with this gem:]

Eliot...we cool?

[This was the question that finally prompted Eliot to turn around. Awkward, cautious hope was a strange expression to see on Hardison's face, but as it wasn't wincing fear, he felt better equipped to deal with it.]

If you're not upset.

Uh.

[Hardison was at a loss for a second, then another. Oh--Right. The whole two men having sex and those two men being them thing. Oddly enough, it really didn't bother him as much as he would have predicted.

In some weird way, it was with someone who cared about him and that was better than a random hot chick. Not that he would turn down a random hot chick, or anything. Just...yeah, probably, awkwardly, the best possible scenario.

The drinking was probably a bad call, but he had a little more adrenaline left over before the hangover really caught up with him.]

Naw man. I mean if it was going to be anyb-Wait. Just, you know, I could have done a lot wor-um-you're way better than...things. I should really think harder before speaking.

[Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.]

Not upset. Totally cool. Let's just put it behind us and move forward to the future and future type...things.

[Eliot nodded affirmatively. He had no words. No proper words. But he had never been in a situation even remotely close to this, so he had nothing to go off of. Sure, moving forward seemed like a good idea, but he felt like he had to say something.]

I don't wish you were a woman. Just so we're clear. I just assumed-- but

[He scratched his neck and his fingers brushed over no fewer than two tender points where he assumed there were hickeys. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been with someone that had marked him up like this. Good times. Wait. He was in the middle of a sentence.]

[...Where the hell had be been going with that?]

so there was this once drunk party last night...

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In b4 "his girly moisturizer has a very distinctive scent, OKAY? B("

"You moisturize more than Sophie" >:1

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