Phone Calls

By: Sprite

Random calls on Eliot's Phone.

For Cat.

All the errors all mine. All the inspiration comes from the team at Leverage.

He fumbled the keys to his apartment, nearly dropping them twice. So tired he could barely see he unlocked the door more from practice than skill. He was hungry, but way too tired to eat, so he grabbed a handful of nuts from the jar on the counter and two bags of ice and headed for the bedroom. He finished the nuts, sat on the edge of the bed, and balanced one ice pack on each knee as he reached down to untie the laces of his boots. He was seeing spots before his eyes as he sat up. He stripped off his clothes, wishing for a shower he was way too tired to actually take, he slipped under the sheets. Letting out a contented sigh as he relaxed back against the soft cotton, balanced one ice pack on his left shoulder, and one on his right elbow and let his eyes drift closed. It had been a long couple of days. The room was quiet. The drapes drawn, the air still and cool. The hum of the air conditioner. He didn't think, just slept.

The cell phone rang and vibrated and Eliot blinked open bloodshot eyes, and half fell out of bed reaching for his jeans, the phone still in the front pocket.

"Yeah," he snarled still trying to hoist himself back onto the mattress and not drop either the phone or the ice pack. One part of his brain told him he hadn't been asleep long since it was barely melted.

"Oh, hi, Adam. Did I wake you?"

Adam, Adam. Eliot's mind whirled. "Uh."

There was a nice laugh at the other end. "Or should I call you Eliot?"

"Maggie?"

"Hi. Did I wake you?"

"Uh, no. Yeah. It's okay." He slid up against the headboard. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She sighed and gave a rueful chuckle. "I just had this dreadful date, and it made me think of my date with you, and you know, I thought I'd call."

He balanced the phone between his shoulder and his ear. "Dreadful?" He replaced the ice pack now that he knew she was okay. "How bad? Button cam bad?"

Her laugh was so full of fun it made him smile. "It was just so high school."

"Did he do the yawn and arm stretch?"

"Yes!"

He couldn't help but laugh.

"You're laughing at me." She didn't sound mad.

"No," he tried to smother the laugh. "Yes."

She giggled. Such a happy, cheerful sound.

They talked for about a half hour. She did most of the talking. He listened and smiled and encouraged her, but finally she wound down. "I should let you get back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you," she paused, "but I'm not sorry I called."

"You know, I'm not sorry you called either." He paused. "I hope you call again."

He went to sleep with a smile and slept for hours.

August 2011