![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
minttown1.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
smallfandomflshTitle: "Technicality"
Author: minttown1
Fandom: Eli Stone
Pairing/Characters: Eli/Maggie
Rating/Category: PG-13, het
Word Count: 1200
Spoilers: through 1.13
Summary: Sometimes office romance is even more complicated than expected.
Eli Stone is a gentleman, and he waits eight weeks between the day Maggie stops wearing the engagement ring -- which, by the way, is not as nice as the one Eli bought Taylor, because Scott isn't as successful as Eli.
Okay, that's just petty.
-- and finally giving into the impulse to kiss Maggie, to tangle his fingers in her hair, or to try to. They keep slipping through her short locks, and he finally gives up and lifts her to the desk for leverage.
She seems a bit surprised to be literally swept off her feet, and she gasps when one of her shoes falls and hits the floor, but she certainly doesn't try to put a stop to anything. As a matter of fact, she is quite enthusiastic about the kissing. Eli is rather pleased, because this could just as easily have ended with her hitting him with a file folder, or even a briefcase. He knows that.
A few minutes pass, with a great deal of kissing and a fair amount of groping, and his favorite part is how vocal she is. It shouldn't exactly be a surprise, Maggie's being vocal, but the little gasps and moans are a bit more pleasant than lectures about social responsibility and the little man.
Not that Eli can't appreciate those lectures on some level, because he's New Eli now and helping the little man warms his heart, but still. He has the same biological drives as anyone else, and sex is still sex.
The buttons of Maggie's blouse are undone and his hand is trailing up her thigh, well past the hem of her skirt. His fingers have just grazed her garter -- god, a garter -- when he finds himself back in that old dorm room with Beth, George Michael playing on the tape deck.
Before the aneurysm, Eli was not the kind of man who thought about other women when was having sex. Or getting ready to have sex. Whatever it is that he's doing here with Maggie.
He's a little annoyed that this would be happening now, considering he only has, like, one vision a month since the surgery. They only happen when it's about something important, and he's gotten pretty good at figuring out what they mean, even without bothering Chen.
He snaps out of the vision and blinks, and he is staring right into Maggie's eyes, which are wide with surprise and maybe something else.
"Eli?"
He pulls his hand back. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?" she asks. She's flushed pink across her cheeks and her chest, and her lips are parted and wet, and he suddenly feels sleazy for having contributed to this picture of debauchery, no matter how incredibly sexy.
"That you've never done this before," he hisses. He's not angry. The hiss is just how his discomfort is manifesting, maybe because it feels absolutely essentially that he be quiet.
She holds her blouse closed with one hand and crosses her legs, which would be prim if it didn't make her skirt ride up another two inches, well past what even the most radical fashion magazines are approving for an office wear hemline this season. "What, have sex with my boss in his office?" she asks, trying for breezy and failing.
"Have sex, altogether," he says, gently as he can manage.
Her cheeks darken, for an entirely different reason this time. "What do you want me to say, Eli? You shouldn't be surprised. I told you that I was raised to be a nice Catholic girl!"
"You were engaged!" he counters, because somehow this is turning into one of their arguments.
"To a nice Catholic boy!" She seems to lose her fire suddenly, and she pushes at his shoulder. "Would you move, please, so that I can be not sitting on your desk anymore?"
He backs his chair away, and she stands on shaky legs, batting his hand away when he reaches out to steady her. She has her back to him, buttoning her shirt, and he thinks that he can maybe see her shoulders shaking, just the tiniest bit.
Now is the time that a good person would say exactly the right thing, he thinks. Unfortunately, he's wrong, and sometimes a good person still doesn't know what to say. Instead, he says the first thing that comes to mind.
"I'm not your boss."
She turns to stare at him, a surprised frown on her face, and he notices the tears that are threatening to spill.
"I'm not your boss," he repeats, because he can definitely still salvage this. "You said you were having sex with your boss in his office, but you weren't, because I'm not your boss."
She scoffs. "You're the junior partner in charge of the department where I spend most of my working hours -- some days, most of my waking hours. That kind of makes you my boss." He opens his mouth to protest, and she interrupts. "Which is so not the point anyway. The point is that we were in the middle of something, but you stopped because you decided you would rather mock me--"
"That was not mocking!" he protests. "It was concern. Genuine concern. Because you, you are an amazing woman, and you deserve for your first time to be more special than--"
"A tryst with my boss on his desk?" She smoothes her skirt down and starts to look for her missing shoe.
He reaches under the desk and retrieves it, then hands it to her. "I was planning to move things to the sofa eventually," he informs her. "And also, I am not your boss."
She eyes the sofa. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable sex would be on leather?" she asks, wrinkling her nose.
"Actually, I do," he says, "but you don't, and that brings us back to the original point."
"That you want me to go whore it up a bit before you'll consider me worth sleeping with?"
He closes his eyes and rubs at his temples. It's not fair that he's getting headaches now, when he made it through a neurological crisis without them. "Okay, Maggie, I think you're just intentionally misreading my words here."
"Must be because of all my inexperience," she snaps, "which, by the way, didn't seem to be a deterrent when you were biting me."
"See?" he says, gesturing, clearly believing he's won a point. "I would never have bit you if I'd known you were a, a virgin."
She shakes her head and steps toward the door. "Good night, Eli."
"Wait, wait." He wants to understand this. "Let me see if I have this straight. You're hurt that I won't agree to sleep with you, but you're too mad at me now to let me anyway?"
"I think that the moment has probably passed," she agrees.
"Okay." He nods. "Good night, Maggie."
She lingers beside the closed door. "But, you know, we could try to get it back again." He looks up, and he notices the color rising in her cheeks yet again, but she doesn't stop. "Somewhere with a bed. If you want to."
He smiles. "Are you sure?"
"I am." She returns the smile. "You're going to ask me that a hundred more times tonight, aren't you?"
"A dozen times at most," he promises. She laughs, an honest-to-god giggle, and Eli grins in relief before he clasps her hand and leads her outside. This isn't the first time that he has walked her to the curb and hailed her a cab, but tonight he actually shares it with her. Her smile is warm when he slides into the seat beside her, and she laces their fingers together as the cab pulls away.
Author: minttown1
Fandom: Eli Stone
Pairing/Characters: Eli/Maggie
Rating/Category: PG-13, het
Word Count: 1200
Spoilers: through 1.13
Summary: Sometimes office romance is even more complicated than expected.
Eli Stone is a gentleman, and he waits eight weeks between the day Maggie stops wearing the engagement ring -- which, by the way, is not as nice as the one Eli bought Taylor, because Scott isn't as successful as Eli.
Okay, that's just petty.
-- and finally giving into the impulse to kiss Maggie, to tangle his fingers in her hair, or to try to. They keep slipping through her short locks, and he finally gives up and lifts her to the desk for leverage.
She seems a bit surprised to be literally swept off her feet, and she gasps when one of her shoes falls and hits the floor, but she certainly doesn't try to put a stop to anything. As a matter of fact, she is quite enthusiastic about the kissing. Eli is rather pleased, because this could just as easily have ended with her hitting him with a file folder, or even a briefcase. He knows that.
A few minutes pass, with a great deal of kissing and a fair amount of groping, and his favorite part is how vocal she is. It shouldn't exactly be a surprise, Maggie's being vocal, but the little gasps and moans are a bit more pleasant than lectures about social responsibility and the little man.
Not that Eli can't appreciate those lectures on some level, because he's New Eli now and helping the little man warms his heart, but still. He has the same biological drives as anyone else, and sex is still sex.
The buttons of Maggie's blouse are undone and his hand is trailing up her thigh, well past the hem of her skirt. His fingers have just grazed her garter -- god, a garter -- when he finds himself back in that old dorm room with Beth, George Michael playing on the tape deck.
Before the aneurysm, Eli was not the kind of man who thought about other women when was having sex. Or getting ready to have sex. Whatever it is that he's doing here with Maggie.
He's a little annoyed that this would be happening now, considering he only has, like, one vision a month since the surgery. They only happen when it's about something important, and he's gotten pretty good at figuring out what they mean, even without bothering Chen.
He snaps out of the vision and blinks, and he is staring right into Maggie's eyes, which are wide with surprise and maybe something else.
"Eli?"
He pulls his hand back. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?" she asks. She's flushed pink across her cheeks and her chest, and her lips are parted and wet, and he suddenly feels sleazy for having contributed to this picture of debauchery, no matter how incredibly sexy.
"That you've never done this before," he hisses. He's not angry. The hiss is just how his discomfort is manifesting, maybe because it feels absolutely essentially that he be quiet.
She holds her blouse closed with one hand and crosses her legs, which would be prim if it didn't make her skirt ride up another two inches, well past what even the most radical fashion magazines are approving for an office wear hemline this season. "What, have sex with my boss in his office?" she asks, trying for breezy and failing.
"Have sex, altogether," he says, gently as he can manage.
Her cheeks darken, for an entirely different reason this time. "What do you want me to say, Eli? You shouldn't be surprised. I told you that I was raised to be a nice Catholic girl!"
"You were engaged!" he counters, because somehow this is turning into one of their arguments.
"To a nice Catholic boy!" She seems to lose her fire suddenly, and she pushes at his shoulder. "Would you move, please, so that I can be not sitting on your desk anymore?"
He backs his chair away, and she stands on shaky legs, batting his hand away when he reaches out to steady her. She has her back to him, buttoning her shirt, and he thinks that he can maybe see her shoulders shaking, just the tiniest bit.
Now is the time that a good person would say exactly the right thing, he thinks. Unfortunately, he's wrong, and sometimes a good person still doesn't know what to say. Instead, he says the first thing that comes to mind.
"I'm not your boss."
She turns to stare at him, a surprised frown on her face, and he notices the tears that are threatening to spill.
"I'm not your boss," he repeats, because he can definitely still salvage this. "You said you were having sex with your boss in his office, but you weren't, because I'm not your boss."
She scoffs. "You're the junior partner in charge of the department where I spend most of my working hours -- some days, most of my waking hours. That kind of makes you my boss." He opens his mouth to protest, and she interrupts. "Which is so not the point anyway. The point is that we were in the middle of something, but you stopped because you decided you would rather mock me--"
"That was not mocking!" he protests. "It was concern. Genuine concern. Because you, you are an amazing woman, and you deserve for your first time to be more special than--"
"A tryst with my boss on his desk?" She smoothes her skirt down and starts to look for her missing shoe.
He reaches under the desk and retrieves it, then hands it to her. "I was planning to move things to the sofa eventually," he informs her. "And also, I am not your boss."
She eyes the sofa. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable sex would be on leather?" she asks, wrinkling her nose.
"Actually, I do," he says, "but you don't, and that brings us back to the original point."
"That you want me to go whore it up a bit before you'll consider me worth sleeping with?"
He closes his eyes and rubs at his temples. It's not fair that he's getting headaches now, when he made it through a neurological crisis without them. "Okay, Maggie, I think you're just intentionally misreading my words here."
"Must be because of all my inexperience," she snaps, "which, by the way, didn't seem to be a deterrent when you were biting me."
"See?" he says, gesturing, clearly believing he's won a point. "I would never have bit you if I'd known you were a, a virgin."
She shakes her head and steps toward the door. "Good night, Eli."
"Wait, wait." He wants to understand this. "Let me see if I have this straight. You're hurt that I won't agree to sleep with you, but you're too mad at me now to let me anyway?"
"I think that the moment has probably passed," she agrees.
"Okay." He nods. "Good night, Maggie."
She lingers beside the closed door. "But, you know, we could try to get it back again." He looks up, and he notices the color rising in her cheeks yet again, but she doesn't stop. "Somewhere with a bed. If you want to."
He smiles. "Are you sure?"
"I am." She returns the smile. "You're going to ask me that a hundred more times tonight, aren't you?"
"A dozen times at most," he promises. She laughs, an honest-to-god giggle, and Eli grins in relief before he clasps her hand and leads her outside. This isn't the first time that he has walked her to the curb and hailed her a cab, but tonight he actually shares it with her. Her smile is warm when he slides into the seat beside her, and she laces their fingers together as the cab pulls away.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}