Summary: Parker, Eliot, and a concussion. Written for comment-fic at LJ. Prompt: Eliot/any other team member, "nursing you through a concussion is NOT a date." Warning: a little TMI, but then again, it's Parker...
Misunderstanding
"Eliot," Parker says drowsily, shifting under the sheets, "Are you going to kiss me?"
The hitter does an incredulous double take at the injured thief. "What?!"
"This is a date, right? You, me, alone, we had dinner, and now you're watching me sleep. Date."
Eliot blinks, slowly, very slowly. He is suddenly very aware of the fact that Parker is naked under the thin sheets, very naked indeed.
"You're crazy," he finally says. "You're concussed."
Parker's band-aided forehead wrinkles in confusion. She squints up at him. "This isn't a date? But Sophie said..."
"Nursing you through a concussion is not a date," Eliot says firmly. "Period."
Having said that, he turns on his heel and escapes as fast as he can with his dignity still intact.
"Not on it," he hears Parker mumble as she snuggles under the covers with a sigh, "That would be icky sex."
The hitter's brain freezes. Then, shaking himself with a shudder, he closes the bedroom door gently and shudders again.
"Crazy girl."
He gives yet another shudder. Ew. And then he remembers the rest of Parker's sentence. Huh. Sex.
He shakes himself. He ain't that crazy, no siree.
AN: Okay, people. I'm stressed and feeling down, so do your thang and cheer me up. It's a fair deal, right? Simple reciprocation. You get TMI-ness from Parker and Eliot finally being a little grossed out, and I get...something. (Hint: *points down* *not down down like that, you pervs* ) Please? *puppy dog eyes*