A little spring cleaning.
Mar. 9th, 2011 09:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kisahawklin posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
prospectusThis is in response to this prompt on the Losers kinkmeme: Sooo, am on a Leverage kick, but am also totally hooked on Jensen. I'd like to see Jensen on a date with Elliot, and someone (On either team) realizes one of the following: a) Jensen would rather be on a date with Cougar, or b) Elliot might as well be on a date with Hardison.
'Cause I was reading Hardison/Elliot slash earlier, and... well, yeah.
It's a nice place; there are real cloth napkins and not a booth to be seen. There are more utensils on either side of the plate than he can possibly use and three wine glasses for each person. The waiter fills one with water, so that's one mystery solved.
"So, Jensen," Eliot says, and Jensen freezes, his hand halfway to reaching for the water to give him something to do that isn't running at the mouth. "What do you do?"
Jensen finishes his grab for the water glass and downs the whole thing as he tries to come up with a plausible employment scenario.
"I like computers."
Eliot chuckles, a low, ironic sound, and that's totally hot. Eliot's not generally Jensen's type – he likes well-muscled guys, but most of them spend their time in the gym, lifting weights in front of mirrors. It's obvious by the way Eliot walks he knows how to handle his body. The thought is already making Jensen drool and he wonders how the hell he's going to make it through the night without going under the table and blowing this guy.
"Computers, huh," Eliot says. "I wouldn't have pegged you for it." He glances down at Jensen's biceps. Jensen grins. Jensen's one of the boys who spends time in the gym, lifting weights in front of the mirrors. It's not all for show, though. Being fit is important to the job, and he takes his job very seriously.
"I'm betting you don't know a dell laptop from an iPad," Jensen says, grinning at Eliot's pained smile. "So what is it you do?"
Eliot does a little hemming and hawing of his own, and finally comes out with a coughed "bodyguard" before reaching for his own water.
"Bodyguard," Jensen says. It makes a certain amount of sense, but if Eliot's really just a bodyguard, Jensen's a teenage hacker wannabe.
"Uh huh," Jensen says. "And who pays you well enough to take your dates out to extremely expensive French restaurants?"
Eliot shrugs. "I don't discuss my clients."
Jensen frowns a little, then shrugs and answers, "Okay."
They sit in silence for a while looking over the menu. Jensen can't read it, even the descriptions in English don't make much sense to him. He wishes they could just blow this popstand and pick up some burgers on their way to Eliot's (presumably extremely well-appointed) place. Eliot seems to be looking at the menu seriously, though, so Jensen reads through the entrées to see if there's something he can stomach. Boar, venison, duck, foie gras… the only beef dish is a tartare, and there's no way he's eating raw meat. He decides to go with venison – something he'd eaten as a kid the years his dad managed to bag a deer during hunting season.
"If you don't know what you're looking at, I can order for you," Eliot says. He doesn't look like the foodie type, but he doesn't look like a guy who brings his dates to fancy French restaurants either, so Jensen puts his menu down and decides to go for it.
'Cause I was reading Hardison/Elliot slash earlier, and... well, yeah.
It's a nice place; there are real cloth napkins and not a booth to be seen. There are more utensils on either side of the plate than he can possibly use and three wine glasses for each person. The waiter fills one with water, so that's one mystery solved.
"So, Jensen," Eliot says, and Jensen freezes, his hand halfway to reaching for the water to give him something to do that isn't running at the mouth. "What do you do?"
Jensen finishes his grab for the water glass and downs the whole thing as he tries to come up with a plausible employment scenario.
"I like computers."
Eliot chuckles, a low, ironic sound, and that's totally hot. Eliot's not generally Jensen's type – he likes well-muscled guys, but most of them spend their time in the gym, lifting weights in front of mirrors. It's obvious by the way Eliot walks he knows how to handle his body. The thought is already making Jensen drool and he wonders how the hell he's going to make it through the night without going under the table and blowing this guy.
"Computers, huh," Eliot says. "I wouldn't have pegged you for it." He glances down at Jensen's biceps. Jensen grins. Jensen's one of the boys who spends time in the gym, lifting weights in front of the mirrors. It's not all for show, though. Being fit is important to the job, and he takes his job very seriously.
"I'm betting you don't know a dell laptop from an iPad," Jensen says, grinning at Eliot's pained smile. "So what is it you do?"
Eliot does a little hemming and hawing of his own, and finally comes out with a coughed "bodyguard" before reaching for his own water.
"Bodyguard," Jensen says. It makes a certain amount of sense, but if Eliot's really just a bodyguard, Jensen's a teenage hacker wannabe.
"Uh huh," Jensen says. "And who pays you well enough to take your dates out to extremely expensive French restaurants?"
Eliot shrugs. "I don't discuss my clients."
Jensen frowns a little, then shrugs and answers, "Okay."
They sit in silence for a while looking over the menu. Jensen can't read it, even the descriptions in English don't make much sense to him. He wishes they could just blow this popstand and pick up some burgers on their way to Eliot's (presumably extremely well-appointed) place. Eliot seems to be looking at the menu seriously, though, so Jensen reads through the entrées to see if there's something he can stomach. Boar, venison, duck, foie gras… the only beef dish is a tartare, and there's no way he's eating raw meat. He decides to go with venison – something he'd eaten as a kid the years his dad managed to bag a deer during hunting season.
"If you don't know what you're looking at, I can order for you," Eliot says. He doesn't look like the foodie type, but he doesn't look like a guy who brings his dates to fancy French restaurants either, so Jensen puts his menu down and decides to go for it.
