Summary: Written for comment_fic at LJ. Prompt: author's choice, "If she told you to jump off a bridge, would you?" "Depends. How high is the bridge?"
Goner
"Eliot?"
The hitter grunts and hits the bag a few more times. Then he gives it a high roundhouse kick.
Hardison takes that as a silent "Hey, bro, wassup? What can I do for ya?"
"So I was thinkin', ya know, about, like, life and all, an', well, I was thinkin'- "
Eliot interrupts him with a glare. "There a point ta all this thinkin' you're supposedly doin', Hardison, or are ya just here ta waste my time?" he growls.
Aw, now, that just ain't fair. "As a matter of fact, there is," Hardison replies, "As I was sayin', before somebody so rudely interrupted, I been thinkin', about- "
"About life, I got that," Eliot interrupts again, crossing his arms.
"About love, actually, and how you know if you're ya know, in it. Love," Hardison finishes quickly before he can be interrupted again.
Eliot stares at him, and it's really disconcerting because there is absolutely no expression in those probing blue eyes. Hardison wonders why in the hell he'd come here to ask Eliot anyway when there are two other perfectly sane (okay, maybe not completely sane, but not scary) people on the team to whom he can put this very same question.
"If she told you to jump off a bridge, would you?"
Uh, what? "Depends. How high is this hypothetical bridge, and would I be allowed to have some kind of a harness or a parachute or maybe a cushion at the bottom? An' an ambulance because I'm gonna- " He mimes himself hyperventilating.
"Si Du River Bridge," Eliot replies, not really answering any of his questions.
"Uhhh."
"Highest bridge in the world, about two thousand feet," Eliot says.
One, how fair is it that the thought of a bridge that crazy-high doesn't disrupt that abysmal calm? And two, how the hell does he know what the highest bridge in the world is, anyway? Who is he, Parker?
"If she wanted me to," Hardison gulps, mind rambling faster than his mouth can go (a nearly impossible feat), "probably. Yeah. Probably. An' then I'd die on the way down an' then she'd have to give me CPR." His mind stutters to a halt. "An' then you better come to my funeral. Because then my tragic death will be all your fault."
Suddenly, Eliot chuckles. "Oh, you a goner, son," he says, and claps Hardison on the back, making him stumble forward. "You got it bad."