Work Text:
You’d never spy on Elliott. You trust him completely in all things, but when he comes to you with his recently procured birthday laptop, it’s purely accidental.
“My muse,” he says, hastily placing the laptop down on the coffee table. “It’s running slow, and troubleshooting is a bit of a nightmare.”
Read: I don’t know what I’m doing with this confounded contraption, you think fondly.
“What seems to be the problem, love?” you reach out, running your fingers along the trackpad, bringing the screen to life.
He doesn’t need to answer. It’s all very evident the moment you save and close his word document switching over to his browser. The sheer number of tabs taking up the screen is staggering.
No one in their right mind could fault you for the chuckle that bubbles up. It’s the quickest of snickers, but Elliott notices.
“I come to you, my partner. My better half. Searching for assistance. Hoping you’ll take pity on me, and find nothing but mirth!” There’s no agitation behind it, simply dramatic laughter at his own predicament. “I implore you, grant your husband and his technologically inept ways some clemency.”
Straightening up, you put on your best gruff mechanic voice and begin. “What your problem is here, is that you’re askin’ too much of it’s little engine.”
He grins, leaning into the playfulness. “I trust you won’t try to upsell me anything I don’t need.”
“Course, not… but it does look like your computer is due for an oil change and tire rotation. Should I put ya down for the complete package?” you quip back happily before getting to the point.
“The real problem is the number of tabs you have open on your browser, Ell. It’s eating up all the ram and cpu usage.”
“Laymen’s terms, my heart.”
“Your computer is trying to do too much at once. It can’t differentiate between which program needs its attention the most,” you explain, closing out several tabs that are resting on a blank Smoogle search screen. “Why are there so many open anyways?”
He looks mock-affronted. “Why, research, of course.”
You smile warmly. “Well, you’re in luck, because I can help. Let’s get you set up with some bookmarks to store all these websites for later,” you happily click on the next tab as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat
“Where would you like your…” glancing at the screen, you giggle. “Website on undetectable natural poisons, love? Planning something are we?” The expression on your face is innocent enough, but he appears horrified at the mere suggestion.
“Never! Perish the thought, my muse. How could you even suggest—”
You cut him off with a kiss and a murmured, “S’ok. I am well acquainted with how a writer’s mind works at this point. Is it safe to assume all of these tabs are writing related?”
Nodding, his shoulders sag in relief. “Don’t judge me too harshly. I needed to make a character slowly fall ill with no easily discernible cause.”
“Mhm…” you nod, popping it into one of the bookmarks folders and continuing on. You’re being as loving and supportive as you can, but you’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t the least bit giddy at what else you were about to find.
“Where would you like the… deep dive on 18th century lacework techniques to go?”
“Costuming, please,” he smiles.
“And the search query on incorporating it into lingerie from that time period?”
There may be a small part of you revels in his reactions, but by and large, you’re simply fascinated at the tangents his mind has taken him down. Like little breadcrumbs, or half-finished cups of tea scattered around the house; momentarily important before setting them down to chase another thought.
He blushes. “Uhh, also costuming.”
You grin, adding the bookmark. Find it comically adorable how he has no problem reading rough drafts to you after they’re written, but is shy about the process.
Much of the next half hour is spent in the same way.
“Scents that evoke sexual arousal?”
A choked cough. “Stars, my muse, put it in atmosphere.”
“A thesaurus search for words similar to erotic?”
The colour of his face nearly matches the fire of his hair now. It’s surprising, really, like you’ve stumbled upon some secret Elliott kryptonite.
“You may close out of that one. I found it very titillating, stimulating, orectic and libidinous.”
That causes a snort of laughter as you close the tab and lean in to kiss him again. Slower this time. Lingering. “What exactly are you working on all alone in that office up there?”
“I umm, well. That is to say, I have reached the pinnacle of my romance novel and am getting delightfully lost in the finer details.”
A pause. A moment to smile against his lips.
“You know I am aware that those beautiful passages of yours don’t just come to you fully formed, my bard. I know hard work and research goes into them.”
He hums softly in response, chasing your words with a kiss of his own. “I am aware. It is simply that if you pull back the curtain then the magic dies. One is suddenly left with a mere man pretending to be immortal.”
“Or with the smallest impression of all the work that mere man does to evoke the desired emotion,” you counter.
Elliott rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you. I sometimes need to be reminded that it is a process. A marathon and not a sprint.”
“Always happy to help,” you coo back warmly, bringing up the last few tabs.
“You know, Ell. I’m really excited to read this novel. The number of random tangents and bits of knowledge you’ve learned are—“
You stop, eyes trailing to the website in front of you. “This looks like… tickets purchased for an opera in Zuzu,” you say, wondering if you stumbled across something you actually hadn’t been meant to see. But when you look up his smile is deep and smouldering.
“Stars. However did that get in there?” His eyes trail down to the screen. “It appears there are two more tabs to go. You can close out of that one. It’s been sent to my email.”
You give him a confused, skeptical look. Surely there was no way he had orchestrated this entire thing… right?
A small thrill goes through you as you click to the next tab. Dinner reservations at a new fancy restaurant you had read about, imagining what an evening in Zuzu would look like with Elliott one night as you lay in bed last month. It had been a fun thought experiment, similar to the “what would you do if you won the lottery” fantasies the two of you often joked about.
“Ell?” you whisper, the beginnings of butterflies kicking up dust in your stomach. This man was just full of surprises.
“One more, my muse.” His voice has taken on a low, honied tone as you click into the last tab.
“A hotel reservation for this weekend? Elliott, it’s not even our anniversary.” You say, shocked and thrilled all at once.
“Mmm, no, it’s not. But I don’t need an occasion to celebrate our love. Besides,” he says, leaning in to kiss down the pulse point of your neck. “You’ve been through my search history, but now I need to conduct more… in depth research for the big romance scene.”
Your pulse leaps beneath his lips, feather-light and fluttering.
“Well, when you put it that way… of course I’ll help.”
The smile on his face is glorious as he shuts the laptop and carries you up to bed for some early preliminary research.
You think you’ll gladly troubleshoot any and all future technological problems he has if they end up like this.