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theroadhouseIn honor of the holiday.
Title: The Gift
Characters: Faith/Eliot, Nate, Sophie
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1706
Disclaimer: I only wish I owned them. Faith and Eliot would never have clothes on again.
Summary: Faith asks Eliot to cook a special dinner for her.
Eliot slapped his palm against the counter top, spinning the small paring knife in his free hand. “You need to take about five steps back,” he growled. “You’re working my last nerve, here.”
He means it, Faith thought, keeping the flashing blade in the corner of her vision. Eliot couldn’t be described as an easy-going person under the best of circumstances, but this was edging uncomfortably into ‘throwing things’ territory. Licking suddenly dry lips, she raised her hands and backed up exactly five steps. “Better?”
The hitter rolled his eyes, snorting softly. “You are the damndest female I have ever met.”
Faith grinned. “What, because I can’t cook?” She started to slowly lower her hands – still wary of Eliot’s mood. She had no doubt he was a half-second away from tossing the knife at her, and while throwing down with him was fast becoming her favorite type of foreplay this was Nate’s apartment, and they really didn’t have time.
Eliot had resumed work on the apple he’d been peeling when she’d inadvertently stomped on the last of his patience. “Not because of that. Parker can’t cook. I’m not sure Sophie can either.” He glanced up at her, smirking. “None of y’all can cook as well as I can anyway.”
“So what, then?” Sensing they were back in reasonably safe territory, Faith let her hands drop the rest of the way and reclaimed some of the distance between them.
“When you do ask me to cook for you, it’s here.” He’d switched to the chef’s knife, and gestured vaguely around the room with it. “And not only is here Nate’s place, here is also a place that has absolutely nothing I need to produce the kind of food you asked for.”
Faith did feel somewhat guilty about that, remembering the bags of food and equipment it had taken both of them plus Parker and Hardison to bring up from Eliot’s truck. Thank God Sophie agreed to keep Nate out of the way, she thought. “You didn’t have to do everything I asked for,” she said.
Eliot shrugged one shoulder negligibly, slicing the apple and putting the pieces in the pie dish sitting to his right. “It’s important. I get that. However...” He pointed the knife in her direction again, and Faith couldn’t help tensing up, “before you go back to Cleveland, you and I are going to have a talk about seasonal menu planning.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. Off her obviously confused expression, Eliot gestured at the pie dish. “Apples are not in season right now, Faith. I am making you an apple pie in the middle of June. Let me point out that this bothers me as much, if not more, than anything I have done with you to date.” Here he paused, giving her an appreciative leer, “Or to you, for that matter.”
Faith chuckled softly, even though she still didn’t entirely understand what he was talking about. “Well , thank you,” she said, finally. “I promise I will make it up to you.”
Now it was Eliot’s turn to lick his lips. “Noted,” he said. His eyes ticked to the clock above the stove, and then back to her. “And filed away for later. You need to go get dressed if we’re actually going to do this thing.”
****************
Eliot watched Faith take the stairs to Nate’s second floor two at a time, running through a very short, extremely pornographic list of things he wanted to have her do in payment for the apples. Exhaling sharply, he shook his head and forced himself to return to the task at hand.
He sprinkled another layer of cinnamon on top of the apples, before carefully lifting the top crust and laying it in place. As pies went, he’d spent a small fortune on the ingredients, but he was confident the end result would surpass Faith’s wildest expectations.
Can’t really fault her tastes, he thought – catching a whiff of the pork chops sizzling under the broiler. Once she’d gotten past the awkwardness of asking him to cook for her, Faith had been very specific about what she wanted him to make. Eliot suspected there was history behind her requests; it was the main reason he hadn’t tried to talk her out of any of it.
Instinct analyzed the scent in his nostrils and prompted him to check the broiler. Looks good, he thought, grabbing a nearby potholder and taking the meat out of the oven. His attention ticked briefly to the clock again as he set the pan aside to rest. Too soon. He’d have to talk to Hardison – have him get somebody in to look at the heating unit.
Shutting off the broiler, he switched the oven over to bake. Salad’s done, just needs to be dressed. They weren’t doing any alcohol tonight; while he understood the logic, the chef in Eliot’s soul mourned the absence of a perfect chardonnay.
You’re over-thinking it, he chided himself. This was Faith’s gift – as long as he produced everything she asked for to the best of his ability, she would be happy.
Footsteps on the stairs made him look up, smiling in anticipation of what he was going to see. Faith had asked Sophie to take her clothes shopping the day before, and they had both been very tight lipped about the results. Having probably the best idea of what Faith had planned for the evening, Eliot had spent a disturbing amount of time wondering what sort of outfit the two women had finally managed to settle on.
The sandals were cutting edge fashion – golden brown leather, with cross-gartered straps that set off Faith’s calves perfectly. The skirt of the dress she was wearing hit at mid-thigh, a gauzy flowing number in browns and golds that left her shoulders bare, and made Eliot’s breath catch in his throat.
“Laugh, and I swear I will put you on your ass,” Faith said, although a slight tremor in her voice definitely undercut the seriousness of the threat.
Eliot left the safety of the kitchen, coming to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. “You look amazing,” he said, softly.
Faith smiled, a spark of excitement transforming her expression into something extraordinary. “Really?”
He nodded, beckoning her to lean down. When their lips were almost touching, he whispered, “Wear it when you come over tomorrow, and I’ll show you just how much I like it.”
****************************************
“You didn’t have to come,” Nate said as they got off the elevator.
Sophie squeezed his arm, leaning into his shoulder. “It was no problem at all. With Maggie stuck in Paris, I figured you could use the company.”
Nate pulled her closer as they walked, enjoying the closeness. “Thank you,” he said, and meant it. So many years later, his regular visits to his son’s grave were still difficult. It was easier when Maggie went with him – they cried and shared their memories, and he came away feeling better for the experience.
He didn’t know why Sophie had offered to accompany him on this visit, but it had left him feeling surprisingly peaceful. She’d asked a few questions, but had mostly been content to listen as he talked about the little boy whose life had been taken so tragically soon.
His thoughts shifted to Faith. She’d been in town for a few days already, but they hadn’t been able to spend as much time together as he wanted. “You’re okay with me spending the evening with Faith, right?” He’d been tied up on and off for the first few days she'd been in town, wrapping up their previous case, and the lack of contact with his daughter was really starting to itch. The team had been good about picking up the slack, but after all the time they’d lost Nate was extremely territorial about every second he did have with Faith.
“No worries,” Sophie said. “I’ll just say hi, and leave you two to your evening.”
They reached the door to his apartment, and Nate tried the knob. It turned easily, and he smiled at the inadvertent confirmation that Faith was home and waiting for him.
All right, that’s awkward, he thought – the smile disappearing from his face as the scene inside met his eyes. His small table was set for two, with china and crystal he didn’t recognize, and two slender, unlit white tapers. Incredible food smells were coming from the kitchen – his kitchen.
Most disheartening of all, Eliot and Faith were at the base of the stairs, lost in a kiss that was so tender and passionate that Nate felt his face grow hot. She looks amazing, he thought. Faith was clearly dressed up for a date; every inch of her from hair to shoes was obviously meant to impress.
He’d almost decided to back out of the apartment without making his presence known, when Sophie blew it. “Kids, we’re home!” she sang out brightly – startling Faith and Eliot, and making Nate wince.
Eliot, at least, looked embarrassed at the situation. Before he could say anything, however, Nate’s stove started beeping. The hitter swore under his breath, and half-jogged to the kitchen.
Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Nate crossed the room to have a word with Faith. “You should have said something,” he said, pitching his voice low. “We could have worked something out.”
Faith looked confused. Before Nate could say anything else, the sound of Eliot closing the oven door distracted him. “Pie’s in,” Eliot said, leaving the kitchen area again and returning to the stairs. He looked at Faith. “I’m going to trust you to take it out in an hour.” Stepping up beside her on the stairs, he kissed her. It was a quick, almost chaste press of lips this time, but Nate was still uncomfortable. “Remember what I said about the apples. I will make you pay if anything gets screwed up.”
Stepping down, Eliot clapped Nate on the shoulder. “Enjoy, boss!” Grinning, he crossed the room to where Sophie still stood.
She winked at him. “You two have a wonderful evening!” she said. Eliot put his arm around her shoulder, and the two of them left the apartment.
Nate blinked, feeling a creeping sensation that told him better than Faith’s suddenly knowing expression that he’d been played. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”
Faith shrugged, smiling. “Happy Father’s Day, Pops.”
Nate's chest tightened as the pieces fell into place. Father's Day. It was their first, since finding out the truth of their relationship. He turned to take in the scene again - realizing for the first time exactly who Faith was trying to impress.
"Thank you," he said, looking back at his daughter and willing her to see just how much he appreciated her gift. "It's perfect."
Title: The Gift
Characters: Faith/Eliot, Nate, Sophie
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1706
Disclaimer: I only wish I owned them. Faith and Eliot would never have clothes on again.
Summary: Faith asks Eliot to cook a special dinner for her.
Eliot slapped his palm against the counter top, spinning the small paring knife in his free hand. “You need to take about five steps back,” he growled. “You’re working my last nerve, here.”
He means it, Faith thought, keeping the flashing blade in the corner of her vision. Eliot couldn’t be described as an easy-going person under the best of circumstances, but this was edging uncomfortably into ‘throwing things’ territory. Licking suddenly dry lips, she raised her hands and backed up exactly five steps. “Better?”
The hitter rolled his eyes, snorting softly. “You are the damndest female I have ever met.”
Faith grinned. “What, because I can’t cook?” She started to slowly lower her hands – still wary of Eliot’s mood. She had no doubt he was a half-second away from tossing the knife at her, and while throwing down with him was fast becoming her favorite type of foreplay this was Nate’s apartment, and they really didn’t have time.
Eliot had resumed work on the apple he’d been peeling when she’d inadvertently stomped on the last of his patience. “Not because of that. Parker can’t cook. I’m not sure Sophie can either.” He glanced up at her, smirking. “None of y’all can cook as well as I can anyway.”
“So what, then?” Sensing they were back in reasonably safe territory, Faith let her hands drop the rest of the way and reclaimed some of the distance between them.
“When you do ask me to cook for you, it’s here.” He’d switched to the chef’s knife, and gestured vaguely around the room with it. “And not only is here Nate’s place, here is also a place that has absolutely nothing I need to produce the kind of food you asked for.”
Faith did feel somewhat guilty about that, remembering the bags of food and equipment it had taken both of them plus Parker and Hardison to bring up from Eliot’s truck. Thank God Sophie agreed to keep Nate out of the way, she thought. “You didn’t have to do everything I asked for,” she said.
Eliot shrugged one shoulder negligibly, slicing the apple and putting the pieces in the pie dish sitting to his right. “It’s important. I get that. However...” He pointed the knife in her direction again, and Faith couldn’t help tensing up, “before you go back to Cleveland, you and I are going to have a talk about seasonal menu planning.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. Off her obviously confused expression, Eliot gestured at the pie dish. “Apples are not in season right now, Faith. I am making you an apple pie in the middle of June. Let me point out that this bothers me as much, if not more, than anything I have done with you to date.” Here he paused, giving her an appreciative leer, “Or to you, for that matter.”
Faith chuckled softly, even though she still didn’t entirely understand what he was talking about. “Well , thank you,” she said, finally. “I promise I will make it up to you.”
Now it was Eliot’s turn to lick his lips. “Noted,” he said. His eyes ticked to the clock above the stove, and then back to her. “And filed away for later. You need to go get dressed if we’re actually going to do this thing.”
****************
Eliot watched Faith take the stairs to Nate’s second floor two at a time, running through a very short, extremely pornographic list of things he wanted to have her do in payment for the apples. Exhaling sharply, he shook his head and forced himself to return to the task at hand.
He sprinkled another layer of cinnamon on top of the apples, before carefully lifting the top crust and laying it in place. As pies went, he’d spent a small fortune on the ingredients, but he was confident the end result would surpass Faith’s wildest expectations.
Can’t really fault her tastes, he thought – catching a whiff of the pork chops sizzling under the broiler. Once she’d gotten past the awkwardness of asking him to cook for her, Faith had been very specific about what she wanted him to make. Eliot suspected there was history behind her requests; it was the main reason he hadn’t tried to talk her out of any of it.
Instinct analyzed the scent in his nostrils and prompted him to check the broiler. Looks good, he thought, grabbing a nearby potholder and taking the meat out of the oven. His attention ticked briefly to the clock again as he set the pan aside to rest. Too soon. He’d have to talk to Hardison – have him get somebody in to look at the heating unit.
Shutting off the broiler, he switched the oven over to bake. Salad’s done, just needs to be dressed. They weren’t doing any alcohol tonight; while he understood the logic, the chef in Eliot’s soul mourned the absence of a perfect chardonnay.
You’re over-thinking it, he chided himself. This was Faith’s gift – as long as he produced everything she asked for to the best of his ability, she would be happy.
Footsteps on the stairs made him look up, smiling in anticipation of what he was going to see. Faith had asked Sophie to take her clothes shopping the day before, and they had both been very tight lipped about the results. Having probably the best idea of what Faith had planned for the evening, Eliot had spent a disturbing amount of time wondering what sort of outfit the two women had finally managed to settle on.
The sandals were cutting edge fashion – golden brown leather, with cross-gartered straps that set off Faith’s calves perfectly. The skirt of the dress she was wearing hit at mid-thigh, a gauzy flowing number in browns and golds that left her shoulders bare, and made Eliot’s breath catch in his throat.
“Laugh, and I swear I will put you on your ass,” Faith said, although a slight tremor in her voice definitely undercut the seriousness of the threat.
Eliot left the safety of the kitchen, coming to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. “You look amazing,” he said, softly.
Faith smiled, a spark of excitement transforming her expression into something extraordinary. “Really?”
He nodded, beckoning her to lean down. When their lips were almost touching, he whispered, “Wear it when you come over tomorrow, and I’ll show you just how much I like it.”
****************************************
“You didn’t have to come,” Nate said as they got off the elevator.
Sophie squeezed his arm, leaning into his shoulder. “It was no problem at all. With Maggie stuck in Paris, I figured you could use the company.”
Nate pulled her closer as they walked, enjoying the closeness. “Thank you,” he said, and meant it. So many years later, his regular visits to his son’s grave were still difficult. It was easier when Maggie went with him – they cried and shared their memories, and he came away feeling better for the experience.
He didn’t know why Sophie had offered to accompany him on this visit, but it had left him feeling surprisingly peaceful. She’d asked a few questions, but had mostly been content to listen as he talked about the little boy whose life had been taken so tragically soon.
His thoughts shifted to Faith. She’d been in town for a few days already, but they hadn’t been able to spend as much time together as he wanted. “You’re okay with me spending the evening with Faith, right?” He’d been tied up on and off for the first few days she'd been in town, wrapping up their previous case, and the lack of contact with his daughter was really starting to itch. The team had been good about picking up the slack, but after all the time they’d lost Nate was extremely territorial about every second he did have with Faith.
“No worries,” Sophie said. “I’ll just say hi, and leave you two to your evening.”
They reached the door to his apartment, and Nate tried the knob. It turned easily, and he smiled at the inadvertent confirmation that Faith was home and waiting for him.
All right, that’s awkward, he thought – the smile disappearing from his face as the scene inside met his eyes. His small table was set for two, with china and crystal he didn’t recognize, and two slender, unlit white tapers. Incredible food smells were coming from the kitchen – his kitchen.
Most disheartening of all, Eliot and Faith were at the base of the stairs, lost in a kiss that was so tender and passionate that Nate felt his face grow hot. She looks amazing, he thought. Faith was clearly dressed up for a date; every inch of her from hair to shoes was obviously meant to impress.
He’d almost decided to back out of the apartment without making his presence known, when Sophie blew it. “Kids, we’re home!” she sang out brightly – startling Faith and Eliot, and making Nate wince.
Eliot, at least, looked embarrassed at the situation. Before he could say anything, however, Nate’s stove started beeping. The hitter swore under his breath, and half-jogged to the kitchen.
Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Nate crossed the room to have a word with Faith. “You should have said something,” he said, pitching his voice low. “We could have worked something out.”
Faith looked confused. Before Nate could say anything else, the sound of Eliot closing the oven door distracted him. “Pie’s in,” Eliot said, leaving the kitchen area again and returning to the stairs. He looked at Faith. “I’m going to trust you to take it out in an hour.” Stepping up beside her on the stairs, he kissed her. It was a quick, almost chaste press of lips this time, but Nate was still uncomfortable. “Remember what I said about the apples. I will make you pay if anything gets screwed up.”
Stepping down, Eliot clapped Nate on the shoulder. “Enjoy, boss!” Grinning, he crossed the room to where Sophie still stood.
She winked at him. “You two have a wonderful evening!” she said. Eliot put his arm around her shoulder, and the two of them left the apartment.
Nate blinked, feeling a creeping sensation that told him better than Faith’s suddenly knowing expression that he’d been played. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”
Faith shrugged, smiling. “Happy Father’s Day, Pops.”
Nate's chest tightened as the pieces fell into place. Father's Day. It was their first, since finding out the truth of their relationship. He turned to take in the scene again - realizing for the first time exactly who Faith was trying to impress.
"Thank you," he said, looking back at his daughter and willing her to see just how much he appreciated her gift. "It's perfect."
no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 07:22 pm (UTC)Yep - the stuff posted over on ff.net is anything
Yep - the stuff posted over on ff.net is anything <user="hickumu" site="livejournal.com"> had a hand in. My stuff (as well as our co-authored stuff) ultimately ends up here.
I'm glad you enjoyed this one - I really liked how it came together. I've pinned a master list on my entry page if you want to check out the other stories. It's up to date minus a story I just posted on Livejournal today. That one will go up here in the next day or so.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 07:23 pm (UTC)Sorry. :-(
no subject
Date: 2012-08-07 07:34 pm (UTC)