Moments like These
Written for the schmoop_bingo prompt of "cooking together"
Fandom : Supernatural/Leverage
Pairing : Dean/Eliot (Fits in the same 'verse as "I Keep Your Picture" and "How It All Began" – kind of a timestamp to the parts I haven't finished writing and posting yet!)
Rating : PG-13
Word count : about 1,000 words
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Moments Like These
Eliot figures it's actually slightly sad that he's the only person who has really noticed that Dean can cook. Really cook, not just fry or microwave. Okay, maybe it's not fancy high cuisine like he learnt to do when he was younger, but it's not crap either. It's the kind of good rib-sticking fare that Eliot's own mama used to make. At the back of his mind there is always that thought of how much his mama would have loved Dean, if they'd ever got the chance to meet.
Eliot is sitting quietly at the kitchen table watching Dean work. He wants to help, wants them to do this together, but he doesn't want to take away from all that Dean is trying to do here, which is a lot more than just cook some food and keep them all from starving. If that was all he'd wanted to do, he'd have called for take out.
This is classic Dean in mother hen mode and Eliot won't admit it to anyone, but he loves it. He loves it when Dean takes care of him, but he hates the doubt that he sees in Dean's eyes so often. Eliot knows that Dean can't see the truth like he can, that still Dean doubts his own contribution to their relationship, doesn't see himself as good enough to have this. Eliot can see it all, the good and the bad, the love and the self-doubt and he loves Dean for it all.
Eliot loves the respite of coming here when Dean's here. Bobby's great, cares and everything, makes sure he's okay but it's not the same as when Dean's here as well. Well, it wouldn't be, would it? Dean had been waiting for him anxiously when he arrived, had been at his side opening the car door almost before the engine was off. Dean hadn't needed to see the bruises to tell he was hurt, had known he hadn't been sleeping well, eating right. All the things Nate's team tried to do for him, tried to notice but needed telling, Dean knew. Eliot knew that the team tried to look out for him, tried to remember that he wasn't invincible and that when a fight had been rough he needed time to heal, but they could never tell how hurt he was, how much help he needed.
Dean's opening gambit of "You should have called me, I'd have come to get you. You're in no fit state to have driven so far on your own," was exactly on the mark. He'd told Nate and Sophie he was going out of town for a week or so and they'd just nodded and told him to stay in touch because it wasn't long till the next job. They'd told him to rest up and make sure he was fully recovered and to them it had been enough. He'd only been driving a couple of hours when he sent a text to tell them he'd be gone for longer than originally intended, knowing that he wasn't going to be fit enough any time soon to be their hitter.
Dean had helped him into the house, settled him into bed with painkillers before soothing him to sleep, holding him until his body had had time to rest and relax. For the first time since he'd been injured, Eliot woke slowly and feeling rested. Dean had insisted on him taking it easy for the first couple of days he was here and even this current venture into the kitchen for company was a first.
Eliot got it, Dean understood, that's all there was to it. Dean understood the body's need for rest, he understood equally the mind's need for stimulation even when the body wasn't up to it; that was why he was 'allowed' to be here.
It was no real surprise when two pans of water were set down in front of him, one with potatoes in shortly ahead of a knife. Dean's face was a wonderful picture of wicked grin and deep affection and Eliot loved him all the more for it as he picked up the knife and took the first potato out and began to peel it. A couple of moments later and Dean was back at the table, standing close to Eliot with a chopping board and his own knife as he prepared the other vegetables.
Their conversation was mindless nothingness; the weather, the latest cars brought in to Bobby's yard, the latest baseball scores. Eliot loved it, just them, no pressures, no stress, not trying to be something for someone else.
With all the preparations finished and the food cooking, Dean sat down in a chair alongside Eliot, scooching the chair up as close as possible so that Eliot could relax back against him for a few minutes. This was peaceful, a moment to be treasured. They'd talk eventually, about how Eliot had got hurt this time and how, in Dean's opinion, the team didn't take enough care of him and then they'd talk about Dean's jobs and how, in Eliot's opinion, Dean let other people take advantage of him and let him get hurt too much. Then they'd agree to disagree, they'd kiss and everything would be fine again, but for now they'd take this moment, this peace and quiet with the smells of their dinner cooking and they'd relish each other's company and treasure the time.