angelgazing (
angelgazing) wrote2009-02-11 04:23 pm
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ficlet: like every star agreed - leverage
title: Like Every Star Agreed
rating: G
fandom: Leverage
summary: Complete, unashamed, Alec/Parker fluff, for Valentine's Day!
notes: The first in an attempt to do a small scale version of the ipod shuffle drabble prompt thing. The prompt was "we curb our language because words are not enough" from It's True Love by Forgive Durden, the title comes from the same. It's no where near drabble length, so, fail. Thanks to
luzdeestrellas for not letting me post anything without adding half a million commas.
There are tricky ways to deal with tricky girls. Alec knows that much; he learned maybe a few steps beyond that at his Nana's house, sitting down for dinner with his elbows off the table and too many little girls wandering through.
And he knows some tricks—knows a lot, knows more than his fair share, ok—but Parker's got this way of leaving him scratching his head like he's still fifteen and learning. Makes his fingers itch for his computer, cause he spent more than his fair share of years being awkward, and the memory makes him want to reach for the one thing that never has been.
He picks up a twelve pack of Valentines meant for first graders to pass out to the whole class. There are baby animals on the front and a sheet of sparkly heart stickers to close the thin white envelopes. It's a whim, maybe, a need to try and get a smile, a hope of maybe easing some tension in the office. And, well, he was in the aisle.
The one Alec shoves in the side pocket of Eliot's gym bag has a giraffe peeking over a cartoon tree; it says I'm looking at you. It's a little creepy for baby animals, but what are you gonna do?
Sophie's has a frog (not a baby animal. He might actually write a letter and complain; how are kids supposed to know better, if minor printing companies don't?) that says, in swirly font, I'm hoppy to know you! He sticks it to her coffee cup with four of the sparkly stickers.
He puts one with a gray kitten wearing a pink bow instead of a collar (I think you're purrfect) as far away from the bottle of scotch as he can while still leaving it on Nate's desk.
Parker though, well, Parker is tricky. Alec fills out (signs) and throws away both of the ones with lab puppies (it's just puppy love), the duplicates of the others, and the waddling yellow ducklings (you're just ducky!). Writes a poem on the back of the next to the last one, then makes sure to burn it before he tosses the ashes in the garbage on top of the others.
The last one he signs, folds in half and holds it closed with a sticker. He ends up linking a bunch of paperclips together because he got to the office way too early and he keeps losing nerve instead of gaining it. He figures—somewhere between his third orange soda and a one armed hug/head shake combo thanks from Sophie—in for a penny.
He threads the chain through the card then wraps it around the neck of a pale pink stuffed rabbit he's been pulling in and out of a plastic shopping bag all morning; it's like a really badass punk collar for stuffed baby animals. And he manages to do it just in time to shove the thing in Parker's hand pretty much right as she walks in.
Parker laughs, a little too loud, like maybe she didn't get the joke, or like maybe it really just wasn't that funny. And a little bit like maybe she wants to cry, which is scary, and Alec has a little while where he's kind of frozen in shock, but also sort of flailing, and wishing, maybe, that things weren't so tricky.
"It's just," he says, quickly and kind of like he's choking on it, and nowhere near cool. But it's Parker, and he's pretty enamored with the fact that she never seems to notice those things, so, actually, that part might be alright. "It's just… for you, you know, for Valentine's day. Gotta celebrate a lovers' holiday when you know you're not a fighter."
Parker's eyes get a little wider, and she goes from gripping the toy so tight her fingers go white, to nodding, to holding it in the crook of her elbow like a sleeping baby. She plays with the edge of the card like she's not sure she's supposed to open it, even though it's got her name right there above the half of the heart sticker that's visible.
"For me?" she asks, and Alec can't tell if it's with wonder or a whole lot of doubt. Once in a while it gets a little hard to tell the difference with her. He's not always sure there is a difference with her.
"Yeah," he says, and rolls his eyes (very, very fondly, with as much affection as it is humanly possible to put into an eye roll), but he'd put money on her not noticing. She doesn't look up 'til after she's opened the card (some bunny likes you), and he can't do much more than shrug.
Parker laughs, again, still too loud, but bright. She throws one arm around his shoulders—nearly knocks him off balance, just because it's that quick, and that much of a surprise--and hugs him tight, but keeps holding on to the bunny with the other.
Alec is pretty sure he's missing something, but she keeps laughing like that and he can't help but smile wide.
rating: G
fandom: Leverage
summary: Complete, unashamed, Alec/Parker fluff, for Valentine's Day!
notes: The first in an attempt to do a small scale version of the ipod shuffle drabble prompt thing. The prompt was "we curb our language because words are not enough" from It's True Love by Forgive Durden, the title comes from the same. It's no where near drabble length, so, fail. Thanks to
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There are tricky ways to deal with tricky girls. Alec knows that much; he learned maybe a few steps beyond that at his Nana's house, sitting down for dinner with his elbows off the table and too many little girls wandering through.
And he knows some tricks—knows a lot, knows more than his fair share, ok—but Parker's got this way of leaving him scratching his head like he's still fifteen and learning. Makes his fingers itch for his computer, cause he spent more than his fair share of years being awkward, and the memory makes him want to reach for the one thing that never has been.
He picks up a twelve pack of Valentines meant for first graders to pass out to the whole class. There are baby animals on the front and a sheet of sparkly heart stickers to close the thin white envelopes. It's a whim, maybe, a need to try and get a smile, a hope of maybe easing some tension in the office. And, well, he was in the aisle.
The one Alec shoves in the side pocket of Eliot's gym bag has a giraffe peeking over a cartoon tree; it says I'm looking at you. It's a little creepy for baby animals, but what are you gonna do?
Sophie's has a frog (not a baby animal. He might actually write a letter and complain; how are kids supposed to know better, if minor printing companies don't?) that says, in swirly font, I'm hoppy to know you! He sticks it to her coffee cup with four of the sparkly stickers.
He puts one with a gray kitten wearing a pink bow instead of a collar (I think you're purrfect) as far away from the bottle of scotch as he can while still leaving it on Nate's desk.
Parker though, well, Parker is tricky. Alec fills out (signs) and throws away both of the ones with lab puppies (it's just puppy love), the duplicates of the others, and the waddling yellow ducklings (you're just ducky!). Writes a poem on the back of the next to the last one, then makes sure to burn it before he tosses the ashes in the garbage on top of the others.
The last one he signs, folds in half and holds it closed with a sticker. He ends up linking a bunch of paperclips together because he got to the office way too early and he keeps losing nerve instead of gaining it. He figures—somewhere between his third orange soda and a one armed hug/head shake combo thanks from Sophie—in for a penny.
He threads the chain through the card then wraps it around the neck of a pale pink stuffed rabbit he's been pulling in and out of a plastic shopping bag all morning; it's like a really badass punk collar for stuffed baby animals. And he manages to do it just in time to shove the thing in Parker's hand pretty much right as she walks in.
Parker laughs, a little too loud, like maybe she didn't get the joke, or like maybe it really just wasn't that funny. And a little bit like maybe she wants to cry, which is scary, and Alec has a little while where he's kind of frozen in shock, but also sort of flailing, and wishing, maybe, that things weren't so tricky.
"It's just," he says, quickly and kind of like he's choking on it, and nowhere near cool. But it's Parker, and he's pretty enamored with the fact that she never seems to notice those things, so, actually, that part might be alright. "It's just… for you, you know, for Valentine's day. Gotta celebrate a lovers' holiday when you know you're not a fighter."
Parker's eyes get a little wider, and she goes from gripping the toy so tight her fingers go white, to nodding, to holding it in the crook of her elbow like a sleeping baby. She plays with the edge of the card like she's not sure she's supposed to open it, even though it's got her name right there above the half of the heart sticker that's visible.
"For me?" she asks, and Alec can't tell if it's with wonder or a whole lot of doubt. Once in a while it gets a little hard to tell the difference with her. He's not always sure there is a difference with her.
"Yeah," he says, and rolls his eyes (very, very fondly, with as much affection as it is humanly possible to put into an eye roll), but he'd put money on her not noticing. She doesn't look up 'til after she's opened the card (some bunny likes you), and he can't do much more than shrug.
Parker laughs, again, still too loud, but bright. She throws one arm around his shoulders—nearly knocks him off balance, just because it's that quick, and that much of a surprise--and hugs him tight, but keeps holding on to the bunny with the other.
Alec is pretty sure he's missing something, but she keeps laughing like that and he can't help but smile wide.