"I bet he's a freak," Parker says, dropping down onto the sofa beside Eliot.
Eliot snorts, but doesn't look up from his book.
"What if he's one of those sociopaths in training?" she asks, ignoring Eliot's dismissal. "What if he's chopped up people's pets and buried them in the backyard?"
"You watch too many crime shows," Eliot says, mildly. "Plus, Nate said he's from the inner-city, I doubt he's had any backyards."
"Under the floor-boards, then!" Parker exclaims, huffing.
Eliot finally looks up from his book to give her a look, something between exasperation and adoration. She knows it well.
"What if he doesn't like us?" she asks, finally, regarding Eliot with her wide hazel eyes.
Eliot smirks, "Us? What's not to like about us?"
"Well," Parker replies, definitively, "You hate people as a rule, and I'm crazy."
"You're not crazy," he says, automatically, three years of practice have it conditioned in his brain.
"Fine," Parker says, "But you do hate people."
Eliot shrugs, "Only the assholes."
Before Parker can reply, the front door opens, and Sophie is there, leading a tall, black teen with a duffel bag over his shoulder into the room.
The boy is a full head taller than Sophie, even though she's wearing heels, but he somehow makes himself appear almost slight, shrinking behind her as he sees Eliot and Parker on the couch.
"They don't bite," Sophie says to the boy, even as she eyes Parker suspiciously, as if daring her to try.
Parker just grins.
Eliot rolls his eyes, bored already, and stands up.
"Hey," he addresses the boy, "I'm Eliot; this is Parker." He pauses so Parker can give a little bounce and wave in greeting.
The boy looks at Parker with a mix of interest and wariness. Eliot understands the expression perfectly.
"She's just bouncy because she's had too much sugar. She's harmless," he explains.
"I'm not a child, Eliot," Parker says, pouting, "And it was only one bag of pixie stix this time."
"Pixie stix?" the boy interrupts, "I love those. You like gummy frogs?"
"Are those like gummy worms in frog shape?" Parker asks.
"Kind of, yeah."
"Then, yes," Parker decides, hopping to her feet and approaching the boy, "Do you have any? And what's your name, anyway?"
"H-Hardison," he stumbles out, "Well, Alec, really, but everyone calls me Hardison. My nana…" he trails off, body going stiff at whatever is going on in his mind.
"Why don't you show Hardison to his room," Sophie says to Eliot, breaking the sudden tension. "Parker, we have to leave in a few minutes if we want to get to ballet on time. Go get your stuff."
Parker shrugs and offers Hardison a smile before bounding down the hall toward her room.
"Ballet?" Hardison asks.
"Don't let her energy fool you," Sophie says, "She's actually quite graceful."
A loud crash sounds from the direction of Parker's room, and Hardison raises his eyebrows at Sophie as Eliot snickers.
"Well, most of the time," Sophie says, shaking her head in amusement. "Go on now," she shoos the boys away, "Nate will be home in a little while. Go get Hardison settled into his room."
"C'mon, man," Eliot says, grabbing Hardison's duffel bag before the other boy can protest, and leading him up the stairs.
.
"The color is awful," Eliot says as he opens the door to Hardison's room, "but it's not too tiny, and you only have to share a bathroom with me. Sophie and Nate have their own, and Parker uses the one downstairs."
Hardison steps into the room and does a slow 360, taking it all in. The paint is, in fact, pretty awful, some sort of mustard yellow meets moss green. But there's a full-sized bed with soft looking sheets, a closet and an empty dresser, and a compact but sturdy desk and chair. He's so wrapped up in processing everything, he realizes too late that Eliot had been talking the whole time, and only catches the end of his speech.
"…and the mall is only a few minutes away, they have a lot of posters or whatever, if you want to hide the walls."
"Cool," Hardison says, hoping it's enough to hide the fact that he missed most of what Eliot had said.
Eliot just laughs and gives him a kind look that Hardison hadn't expected on what looked to be a perpetually scowling face.
"First time you get your own room?" Eliot asks, though it's not really a question.
Hardison nods anyway, before suddenly staring at Eliot intently.
"They weren't bad to me or nothing," he says, as if he needs Eliot to understand. "There was just a lot of us, we had to share. I mean, some of the kids were assholes, but I liked it there for the most part."
Eliot wants to ask, but he holds his tongue. Instead, he crosses the room and places the duffel bag onto the bed, before leaning against one of the tall bed posts and sticking his thumbs through his belt loops, giving Hardison the chance to talk if he wants to.
Hardison leans against the door frame and crosses his arms against his chest. To the casual eye, it might look like he was being obstinate or defiant, but Eliot's seen enough of foster kids to know it isn't the case. He knows the boy is just holding himself together.
"She died," Hardison says, forcing the words out as though it was physically painful. Eliot supposes it very well might be.
"We called her Nana," he continues, "But she was our foster mom. I was with her since I was six; I barely remember life before her."
"I'm sorry," Eliot says, quietly.
Hardison shrugs, gruffly. "Shit happens, right? At least I only have a year left in the system."
A flash of something Hardison can't identify crosses Eliot's face, but it's gone almost as quickly.
"Nate and Sophie are good people," Eliot says, "I've been with them for five years, and Parker's been with us for three. You could do a lot worse than them."
"Yeah?" Hardison asks, hoping his anxiety doesn't bleed through too much.
He's heard horror stories of other foster homes. Of people who collect kids for the government checks, of filthy mattresses in roach-infested homes, of kids crying themselves to sleep when their "parents" were done with them. Truth be told, he's been waiting for the other shoe to drop since Sophie picked him up from the group home.
"Absolutely," Eliot says, pushing himself up to standing again.
"Nate will be home soon, and I think we're getting pizza once Sophie and Parker get back. Unpack or whatever, there's hangers in the closet. I'm across the hall if you can't figure shit out. Sophie and Nate are at the other end of the hall. You good?"
Hardison nods as he moves to his bed, sitting down slowly, pleased when his feet dangle a few inches from the ground.
"Yeah," he says, giving Eliot a small smile, "Thanks."
"Whatever," Eliot shrugs, "Just don't hug me or anything, we're still dudes."
It's a façade so thin that Hardison can hardly believe Eliot bothers with it, but he holds back his laughter and nods solemnly.
"Got it."
Eliot nods again and walks out, but doesn't close the door. Hardison watches him disappear into the room across the hall and kick the door shut behind him.
He lies back on the bed, enjoying the feeling of being able to stretch out his long limbs fully. The ceiling is bright white, a stark contrast to the abomination on the walls, and he finds himself wondering why they didn't paint the ceiling to match. He laughs aloud at his thoughts, shaking himself from them.
He closes his eyes for what he swears will be just a moment, but before he's even finished the thought, he's fast asleep, one hand still gripping the handle of his duffel bag.
.
.
Hardison settles in pretty quickly over the next week. School isn't too hard and nobody gives him any trouble, which is a refreshing change of pace. Eliot doesn't say much at home, but he's learning that it's just his way, not that anything is wrong. Parker, on the other hand, is always talking, though he's not always sure what she's saying. The speed at which she speaks sometimes makes him dizzy. But then she stops and smiles, looking over to him with her sparkling eyes, and he can't help but smile back, no matter what she's been saying.
She's a junior, like him, but they only have English and Lunch together, so Hardison is left to make his own friends in the other classes. The problem is, it's already halfway through the year, and everyone has made their friend groups. Nobody is outright mean to him, but he knows all about group dynamics, and when he's not going to fit into them.
Then, on his third day of school, his History teacher introduces a petite brunette in a green sweater-dress to the class. Hardison supposes that she should look ridiculous and a little too 80's, but the girl is so adorable, she pulls it off effortlessly. The teacher gives her a gentle shove to the front of the class.
"Hi," the girl says, quietly, bright red splotches appearing on her face, "Um. My name is Ashley. Ashley Moore. We just moved here from Vermont. I… uh, I don't really know what else to say."
"That's good," the teacher says, motioning Ashley to the empty seat in front of Hardison.
She ducks her head and beelines for the chair, avoiding the curious stares of the students around her.
The teacher taps on the desk with her ruler to get everyone's attention, before going back into her lecture about The Great Gatsby.
Hardison covertly watches Ashley as she settles in and grabs a notebook from her bag. A moment later, she's muttering to herself and digging into her bag as quietly as she can, looking increasingly more frustrated by the moment.
"Need a pen?" Hardison says quietly, leaning in a little so she can hear him.
Her shoulder slump in relief as she turns to accept the pen.
"Thank you," she says, giving him a crooked smile.
"I'm new, too," Hardison replies, "Don't worry about it."
She just smiles again, before turning her attention back to the teacher. Hardison tries to pay attention, but he keeps getting distracted by how shiny her hair is, falling in waves across her back.
When the bell rings, he's surprised to find Ashley waiting by the door for him.
"Any chance you know where Chemistry with Mr. Pinucci is?" she asks, looking hopeful.
Hardison grins, "That's my next class, too. Come on, I'll show you."
"Cool," she says, swinging her backpack over one shoulder, "lead the way."
She squeezes his hand quickly as they walk down the hall, and Hardison thinks that maybe this friend thing won't be so hard after all.
.
.
Parker stops Hardison before he can go up the stairs when he gets home, grasping each side of the staircase to make herself into an impromptu gate.
"Umm, what's up?" he asks, more confused than annoyed at her.
"Eliot has a friend over," Parker informs him, "You should stay down here."
"Why?" Hardison asks, "We're allowed to…. Ohhh, I get it. A friend friend."
Parker laughs and releases the banisters. "I think her name is Anna. Or Anya. Amanda?"
Hardison just stares at her.
She rolls her eyes. "It's a new girl every week; you can't expect me to remember their names!"
He laughs at that, and moves to sit on the couch. Parker follows him and folds her long limbs gracefully as she settles beside him. It's then that he notices her leotard and tights.
"Aren't you supposed to be at ballet class?" he asks, suddenly all too aware of how the tight costume hugs her body in all the right ways.
Parker sighs. "Nate and Sophie are at some… something, I wasn't really listening. Eliot was supposed to drop me off with Sophie's car, but then Amy Anna Amanda whatever showed up, and they've been up there for an hour already."
Hardison takes a moment to be impressed by that fact before addressing Parker again. "I can drive, if you don't think Sophie would care. Got my license last year."
Parker's eyes light up with the news. "Yay! Come on, we only have a few minutes!"
She runs off to grab Sophie's keys and tosses them to Hardison before hopping onto his back. He grabs her legs out of pure instinct.
"Jesus, woman! What are you doing?"
"Giddy-up!" Parker demands, smacking him on the hip to get moving.
"Is this your way of saying we're officially friends now?" Hardison asks, accepting the fact that he'll be giving Parker a piggy-back ride to the car.
"That depends on if you drop me or not," Parker says, matter of factly.
Hardison hands her the keys and grips both her legs tight.
"Don't worry, girl, I'm not gonna let you fall."
She drops her chin to his shoulder as she clutches on a little tighter.
"You better not. Now, giddy-up!"
.
.
Sophie was right, Hardison notes as he watches Parker fly through the air with apparent ease. She has more grace and agility than he expected, and her normal frantic energy is clearly focused entirely on what she's doing, creating an almost utmost calm around her.
But as calm as her energy is, it's also enthralling, and Hardison can't look away. He doesn't know anything about ballet, but he knows when something is beautiful and captivating, and Parker is all of that and more. The other girls in the class are good, he thinks, at least on a technical level. But none of them shine the way she does.
When class is finally over, Parker comes over to sit on the floor beside him as she stretches out.
"You're amazing," Hardison says, swallowing hard at the curve of one long leg as she stretches it.
"I'm pretty good," Parker replies, "But most of the girls are better. And I'm hard to pair off for the duets."
"Why?"
"Too tall," Parker says, shrugging, "When you're going to be tossed around, it's easier if you're teeny tiny. I'm five foot seven. Too tall."
Before Hardison can argue with her dismissive logic, she continues.
" Plus, I don't really trust any of the guys to catch me."
Hardison wisely decides not to comment on her obvious trust issues, and instead takes a quick look around at the few guys in the class and nods in agreement.
"I wouldn't trust them either," he says, smiling at her.
Parker stands. "I just need to go grab my stuff, and then we can go. I can't wait to go home and take a shower. Yuck."
Hardison goes to nod, but she's already walking away, so he laughs instead.
.
"You don't drive?" Hardison asks, on the ride home.
Parker laughs, a surprisingly loud noise, before answering.
"I can drive," she says, "Got my license a few months ago. But Sophie doesn't let me drive her car."
Hardison can't wait to hear the answer to this question.
"Why?" he asks, already smirking in amusement.
Parker sighs and rolls her eyes, presumably at the memory of her conversation with Sophie.
"She said that I shouldn't be on the road unless I understood that the speed limit was a law, not just a 'slight suggestion.'"
Hardison swallows his outburst of laughter, and manages to glance at her in sympathy, before focusing on the road again.
"Harsh," he says, resolutely not looking at her all-too-adorable pout, for fear of cracking up.
"Eliot won't even let me drive Nate's car when they aren't around," she sighs, "even though Nate says I can. He acts like I'm going to crash into something on purpose!"
Hardison hasn't been with their family very long, but it's been enough for him to see how much Eliot cares about Parker, and how much she cares for him, too.
"He's just protective," Hardison says, "He doesn't want you to get hurt."
"I'm almost seventeen years old," Parker says, "Sometimes he treats me like a child. I'm not a child. I've had sex for God's sake!"
Hardison hits the brakes before he can help it, shocked at her outburst. Luckily, nobody is behind him, and he resumes driving after only a moment's interruption.
"Umm," he says, carefully, "With Eliot?"
"Ew!" Parker says, making a disgusted face, "No. Ew. No!"
Hardison laughs. "Poor Eliot. He's not that hideous. Under all that surly, alpha-male crap, anyway."
"Eliot's hot," Parker says, absently, as if she was commenting on water being wet, as if it was obvious. "But," she continues, "he's like my brother. I never want to have sex with him."
"I see," Hardison says, "That's…good?"
"It's good," Parker agrees, "That'd be weird, right? To be having sex with someone you're sort of, kind of, related to."
"Yeah," Hardison agrees, quietly, "Definitely weird."
"Yeah," Parker echoes, turning to stare out the window as they drive along.
The rest of the ride passes in silence.
.
.
Hardison's been there two months before things start getting… confusing. School is easy enough, he has a borderline genius IQ, after all. At worst, he spends too much time sketching various design ideas in his notebook, everything from watches to robots to airplanes.
He's dating Ashley now, he's pretty sure. They've never talked about it, but they have every class but English together, and they always sit together. They eat lunch together every day, and she gives him a ride home after school.
Sometimes, when it's sunny, they eat lunch outside, sitting the wrong way at the picnic table, feet atop the benches, just because they can. She leans into him then, tucking her head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around her waist, enjoying the feeling. She always smells nice, like some exotic flower he doesn't know the name of, but he likes it.
.
She kisses him one afternoon as she's dropping him off at home. It catches him off guard, but not enough to stop him from kissing her back, grinning as he pulls away.
"Well, someone had to make the first move," she says, "Honestly, it's like we were courting in the 1950's."
Hardison laughs, and takes her hand in his, intertwining their pale and dark fingers.
"I'm glad it's not the 50's," he says, "your daddy would have shot me by now."
"My dad thinks you're great," Ashley laughs, "he can't wait to meet you."
"You told him about me?" Hardison asks, unable to stop the grin on his face.
"Duh," she says, "Why wouldn't I? You are my boyfriend, right? I mean, I know we haven't really talked about it, or labeled anything, but I mean, we spend all our time together and I just thought…"
"I am," Hardison interrupts, laughing, "Your boyfriend, I mean. I like it. I've never been anyone's boyfriend before."
Ashley grins. "So, when do I get to meet your family?"
Hardison hedges, until she stares pointedly at him, and he knows he's not getting out of the question.
"Well, you already know Parker and Eliot from school," he says, shrugging. "Nate and Sophie are pretty cool, for foster parents. I don't really know if you could call them all my family, though. I've only been here a few months."
"Well, whatever you call them, I want to meet them," Ashley says, resolutely, "Are they home now?"
Hardison is about to say no, when Nate pulls up behind them, Sophie in the passenger seat, Eliot and Parker in the back.
"They are now," he says, shaking his head at the timing of it all. "Alright, let's go inside before they pounce."
.
Sophie loves her, of course. Within minutes, she and Ashley are trading hair tips and talking about some art exhibit Hardison's never heard of, chatting at the kitchen table like it happened every day. Nate shakes her hand, promptly assesses that she's a nice girl, and wanders off to do something with less estrogen involved. Hardison can't blame him.
Eliot walks into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, not-so-discreetly giving Ashley the once-over. They've met before, briefly, but Eliot's a senior, so they haven't said more than a few words to each other. He heads out of the kitchen, but not before grinning lewdly at Hardison and holding up seven fingers on his way.
Hardison just rolls his eyes at Eliot's dumb rating system, and refrains from calling any attention to him by responding.
Parker doesn't come into the kitchen at all, for which Hardison is equal parts grateful and offended. By the time Ashley leaves, the sun is starting to set, and Sophie is ready to adopt her if she stays any longer. Hardison decides he already has one too many awkward pseudo sibling situations, and hurries Ashley out to her car.
"That was fun," she says, "Sophie is great."
"She's alright," Hardison says, but he's smiling, "Ok, she's pretty great."
"I'll see you tomorrow," Ashley says, standing on her toes to kiss him goodbye. "Oh, and Hardison?"
Hardison raises his eyebrows at her tone. It's a mix of amusement and annoyance he usually only hears from Nate.
"Tell Eliot I'm at least an eight. Seven, my ass."
Hardison chokes on his laughter until he starts coughing hard enough that Ashley dissolves into giggles at the sight.
When he can finally breathe again, Hardison makes a show of walking a full circle around Ashley, eyeing her up and down.
"Nah," he says, "your ass is definitely a ten. Eliot's a dumbass."
Ashley blushes, but laughs, resisting the old habit of pulling her shirt down to cover her shape.
"We'll see," she says, instead, stealing one more kiss before ducking into her car, leaving Hardison standing there, speechless.
.
Later that night, Eliot snaps at him over slamming his door, something they've both done a million times. When Hardison goes to talk to commiserate with Parker about Eliot's weird behavior, he finds her asleep on the sofa, cocooned in his favorite sweatshirt, long legs tucked behind her. Weirder yet, as he backs out of the room quietly, he nearly backs into Nate, who is watching the scene unfold, silently. He looks at Hardison with an expression he can't quite comprehend.
"What's up?" Hardison whispers.
Nate shakes his head and smiles wistfully.
"Nothing," he says, leaning against the door frame, "I've just never seen her sleep out here before. Hell, it took months for us to get her to stop pushing her dresser against the door at night."
"Why…" Hardison begins to ask, but is cut off by Nate's suddenly severe look.
"Oh," Hardison says, heart breaking for her with the realization. "She must have had it pretty bad. Before you guys, I mean."
A flash of anger passes across Nate's face before he smoothes it out. "That's not my story to tell," he says, instead. "She'll tell you when she wants to."
"She doesn't have to," Hardison says, still whispering.
"Which is why she will," Nate replies, "eventually." You'll learn that about Parker. She never does what you expect, but most of the time, it ends up being what's best."
Hardison ponders that for a minute, but decides not to try to figure it out right then and there. Instead, he changes the subject.
"What's up with Eliot, anyway?" he asks, "he's been even more growly and pissy than usual, lately."
Nate shrugs, "Not sure. He's just Eliot. He'll get over it. Hopefully in time for his surprise party next weekend."
"His birthday?" Hardison asks, not having heard about the party before.
Nate nods. "Next Saturday. Sophie's been planning it for months. I just let her do what she wants, at this point. Don't tell Eliot, ok? She wants his 18th birthday to be extra special. Something about milestone memories or… you know; I think I wasn't listening very closely."
"Hah," Hardison says, "Parker gets that from you, then."
Nate smiles ruefully. "She might have picked that up from me over the past few years, yeah. Now shut up and go do your homework."
Hardison just shakes his head and heads to his room.
.
.
"It's not even a week," Nate says, "We'll be back in time for Eliot's birthday on Saturday."
"A nice, quiet, family dinner," Sophie adds, smiling.
Hardison has to give her credit, if he didn't know better; he wouldn't have been able to see her lie.
Eliot flinches at the mention of his birthday, but Hardison knows that now is not the time to ask, especially considering the murderous glare he gets when he attempts to make eye contact with Eliot.
"Why can't we just stay here alone?" Parker says, sighing. "We're practically adults. Eliot will be legal in less than a week!"
Eliot flinches again, more minutely this time, but Hardison catches it anyway.
"Darling," Sophie says, her British accent taking on a cultured, soothing tone, "It's the law, you know that. We're required to have a relief worker if we go away. It's not because we don't trust you."
"So, does the agency send someone over?" Hardison asks, growing increasingly concerned with the other's apparent aggravation at the turn of events.
Nate laughs, wryly. Sophie smacks him in the arm as she tsk's at him.
"Not exactly," Sophie says, "It so happens that my cousin James is a relief worker, so he'll be staying here with you for a few days."
As if on cue, the sound of the front door pushing open fills the air. Matching shadows flash across Eliot and Parker's face as footsteps approach the kitchen, we're they're all gathered.
Hardison isn't quite sure what he was expecting, but this man is certainly not it. He's shorter than Parker by at least an inch, and is slight in frame, though not weak looking. He's dressed in a dark blue suit that Hardison is sure cost more than Nate's car, over a crisp white shirt that bares a little too much middle-aged chest, in Hardison's opinion.
His face is genial enough, if a little scruffy. But his eyes are what catch Hardison off guard. They're the strangest mix of colors, somewhere between brown and green, but not quite hazel. Whatever their color, they shine with intelligence and just a bit of something more. Something that Hardison doesn't quite trust.
He wonders when he started thinking about people in such detail, and decides that maybe it's because he's finally been given the peace and quiet to hear his own thoughts, once in a while.
"Sophie," James greets, giving his cousin a quick kiss on the cheek, before moving to shake Nate's hand.
"How've you been?" Nate asks, looking like he cares about the answer as much as Eliot would.
James chuckles, sounding entirely too delighted, like he knows something he won't share with the class.
"Right as rain, Nathan. There, was that so hard?"
Nate just rolls his eyes before looking over James' head to the kids.
"If there's any trouble, just call me."
With that, he grabs the suitcases by their handles and heads for the door.
.
"Children, hello," James says, as Sophie writes the emergency contact numbers on a piece of paper to go on the refrigerator.
"Sterling," Eliot replies, coolly. Parker says nothing, just steps closer to Eliot and crosses her arms against her chest.
"And how about you?" Sterling says, turning to Hardison, "You're new. And very…tall." He pauses to look at Sophie, "You couldn't collect another short one?"
"James!" Sophie scolds, turning to glare at the man.
She walks over to stand beside Hardison.
"We don't collect children," she says, "We take them in when they need a home, if even temporarily." She wraps one arm around Hardison's middle and gives him a little squeeze.
"And sometimes," she continues, "we just don't let them go."
Hardison smiles to himself, even as his skin flushes with pride and embarrassment.
"It's definitely a collection," Sterling says, "your very own 'small world, after all'."
"It's called a family, cousin," Sophie replies, rolling her eyes again. "Now, if you don't mind, my husband is waiting for me."
"Of course," Sterling says, smirking, "Do have fun, now."
Sophie spares one more exasperated look to Eliot, Parker and Hardison, and then practically runs after Nate.
.
"What was your name, again?" Sterling asks Hardison, pinning the teenager to the spot with his intense stare.
"Hardison," he replies, refusing to let the tiny British man intimidate him.
Sterling seems to contemplate the answer, staring at Hardison as if assessing every bit of him. It makes Hardison more than a little nervous and uncomfortable.
"Suits you," he says, finally. "Now, run along, all of you. Uncle James needs a drink. I'm sure Daddy's got some good stuff hidden in here somewhere."
Hardison wastes no time retreating, heading for his room before things can get any weirder. To his surprise, Parker is right on his heels, following him up the stairs.
Eliot leans against the kitchen counter, unwilling to be the one to break the unspoken battle for dominance between himself and Sterling.
"You know," Sterling says, in a tone that would be casual coming from anybody else, "I don't understand why you dislike me so much. I'm not the bad guy."
"Mhm," Eliot says, noncommittally.
"Your parents trust me enough to leave me in charge. Why can't you?"
Eliot scowls.
"They aren't my parents," he says, but it comes out less angry than he intended, and far more broken than he ever wanted to appear.
"I see," Sterling says, nodding once before walking away, leaving Eliot to his thoughts.
The worst part, Eliot thinks to himself, is that Sterling really does see. He's not sure how, but Sterling can see exactly what Eliot's refusing to say. And now he's giving Eliot the one thing he never wanted anyone to feel for him again. Pity.
He scoffs to himself, mentally kicking his own ass for sounding like such an emo little brat. Turning to rummage through the cabinets, he finds Nate's best scotch and tucks it under his shirt, before heading upstairs. He'll be damned if Sterling is getting his hands on it.
.
.
Monday starts without incident, a fact that Hardison isn't entirely comfortable with. It all feels a little too much like the calm before the storm. On the other hand, he wakes up to a text from Ashley. All it says is good morning, but it ends with a little smiley face, and it's enough to make his waking up on a Monday morning just a little bit sweeter. He sends her a quick text back, ending it with a ridiculous winking icon because he knows it makes her laugh.
Breakfast is eerily quiet. They sit around the rectangular table, Eliot at the end, with Parker and Hardison on either side. Sterling sits at the other end of the table, sipping his coffee and flipping idly through the day's newspaper. Hardison pours the three of them glasses of orange juice and hands them out silently as he takes his seat again. His pop tart is scalding when he takes a bite, and he gulps his juice greedily, hating how nervous the quiet makes him.
Usually Parker is chattering about everything under the sun, causing Eliot to growl and grumble incoherently until he's fully awake. But today she just eats her cereal, the crunching overbearingly loud in the silence.
Eliot's eating his usual omelet, some insanely fancy concoction with more cheeses than Hardison knew could go on eggs, but demeanor is all wrong. His back is ramrod straight, as opposed to his usual morning slump. His eyes are sharp and wary, unlike their usual bleariness. He's not unlike a lion, Hardison thinks, just waiting for a reason to attack. He even has the wavy mane of hair to match.
The thought makes him laugh out loud, shattering the dead silence of the room and causing Parker, Eliot and Sterling to look at him in surprise and confusion.
"I, umm," he stutters, "Ashley just texted me something funny."
Sterling just raises his eyebrows for a moment before returning to his paper, shaking his head slightly.
"We're gonna be late, come on," Eliot says, standing up and moving to rinse his dish in the sink, before turning to glare at the others.
"I'm not done with my cereal," Parker says, glaring right back.
Hardison intercedes before Eliot explodes and takes Parker's head off or something.
"Want some gummy frogs?" he asks, offering her the crinkly green package.
Parker grins and shoots up from the table, clattering her bowl in the sink and grabbing the bag from Hardison's hand all in the same motion. He's surprised she doesn't visibly blur in front of him.
"Home by 4," Sterling reminds them, without looking up from his paper.
Eliot and Parker don't bother to reply, but Hardison can't help but give a small nod. His nana would kick his butt if she saw him slacking on his manners, after all.
"Come on!" Parker says, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along, after Eliot.
And what else can he do? He follows willingly.
.
.
"It definitely sounds like they have some bad history," Ashley says, as they're walking to her car at lunch to grab a book she forgot that morning.
"It's bizarre," Hardison agrees. "I mean, this Sterling guy is definitely a little sketchy, but if Sophie and Nate trust him, I figure he can't be all bad, right?"
"You should investigate!" Ashley exclaims, as they reach the car.
Hardison just looks at her, unsure of where she's going with this.
She grins.
"You should do that creepy hacker stuff you try to hide from me," she says. "Maybe he has a criminal record. Or like… maybe he's actually in the witness protection program, and is just edgy because he has to be careful. Or maybe he's actually a spy for the Russian government, and the mild mannered British caretaker is just a cover for his devious plans!"
"I…" he says, slightly speechless, "I don't even know what to say to that."
"Say you'll do it," Ashley replies, "Because you can. I know you can. I think it's really cool."
"Yeah?" Hardison asks, unable to stop a smile from spreading across his face.
"Definitely," she says, fisting a hand in his t-shirt and pulling him down for a kiss. "It's very cool. And very, very, hot."
Hardison gulps.
"Yeah?"
"So hot," she repeats, "you should show me what you can do some time."
"Definitely," Hardison says, nodding rapidly, "Anytime you want."
"Tonight," Ashley says, pinning him with her eyes, pupils blown, hand still clenched at his chest.
Hardison knows he needs to be home by four o'clock, and that he really shouldn't break the rules. But, he supposes, Sterling said to be home by four. He never said that they couldn't leave again. It's a technicality, for sure, but he's more than willing to utilize it in this situation.
"I'll be there," he says, pulling Ashley close for another kiss.
"Later," she says, pulling away reluctantly, "we'll be late for class if we don't move now. And I don't want detention."
Hardison nods and grabs her backpack as she finally collects her missing book. When she's done, she grabs his hand, linking their fingers together, and they head back to the front door.
.
.
Eliot looks up from his homework at the knock on his door, relieved for the interruption.
"Who is it?" he calls out, glaring at the image of Sterling bothering him.
"It's Hardison," comes the reply.
"Come in, then," Eliot says, spinning around in his chair to face the door as it opens.
Hardison comes in and shuts the door behind him quietly. It doesn't take much to realize that the kid is one big ball of nerves at the moment.
"What's up?" Eliot says, motioning for Hardison to sit on the bed.
He does so, hooking his sock-clad feet above the thick wood of the bed frame, drawing his knees up so he can rest his elbows on them.
"I… well…" Hardison says, clearly struggling with how to say whatever he needs to.
"You alright?" Eliot asks, that familiar surge of protectiveness rising up in his chest. The kid might be fairly new, but he's part of the family now, and Eliot doesn't handle anybody messing with his family well.
"I'm fine," Hardison rushes to assure him, "It's nothing like that. Nothing bad. I just, umm."
"Spit it out, then," Eliot says, rolling his eyes.
Hardison coughs. "I was just wondering if you maybe…" the rest of his request lost to mumbles.
"Let's try this again," Eliot says, "Try using actual words this time."
"I was just wondering," Hardison repeats, fighting the urge to pull away from Eliot's gaze, "Do you have any condoms?"
Eliot breaks out in laughter. Of anything the kid could have said, he wasn't expecting this.
"Damn, kid," he says, "I thought it was something serious!"
"Sorry," Hardison says, shrugging. "And you're not even a year older than me, by the way. I'm not a kid."
"Then you should be old enough to buy condoms at the drug store like an adult," Eliot says, smirking.
"Shut up," Hardison says, even though he knows the other man is right. "So?"
Eliot rolls his eyes again, before pointing to the dresser.
"Top drawer," he says. "Take as many as you need."
Hardison goes to the dresser and pulls open the drawer, eyes going to the box of Trojans. His hand hesitates over the box, a fact that Eliot doesn't miss.
"Shit," he says, eyeing Hardison in disbelief, "You're a virgin."
"Am not," Hardison protests, fidgeting.
"Bullshit," Eliot says. "Do you even know how to use a condom?"
"Fuck off," Hardison says, clearly embarrassed, "It's not rocket science."
Eliot sighs.
"Relax, man," he says, "I wasn't making fun of you. Everybody starts out a virgin. You'll be fine."
"I just feel dumb," Hardison mutters, looking at the floor.
"Here," Eliot says, standing and walking over to the dresser. "Take two. Just in case you tear one or whatever. Always have a backup. Actually, take three."
Hardison shoves the condoms in his pocket and takes a step back.
"Thanks," he says, giving Eliot a small smile. "I'm just nervous, I guess. Never mind I don't know I'm going to get out of here without Sterling seeing me."
"Don't worry about Sterling. We'll cover for you. Just go out Parker's window."
"Thanks, man," Hardison says again, patting his pocket unconsciously.
"Don't mention it," Eliot says, "really. If we could never talk about it again, that'd be great. Go out, get laid, and get back at a decent time so we don't have to cover for you all night."
Hardison nods again and makes his escape as fast as he can.
Eliot watches the kid close the door behind him, and can't help but chuckle a little bit at the whole situation.
.
.
"So, what do you want me to hack into?" Hardison asks. He's sitting at Ashley's computer desk, his laptop open in front of him.
"I don't," Ashley replies, spinning the computer chair so that Hardison is facing her.
"I thought you thought it was really cool?" Hardison asks, swallowing hard when he can feel the tension in the room rise.
"It is," she says, "it's very cool. But my parents will be back in an hour. The internet isn't going anywhere."
"So," Hardison says, heart racing as Ashley reaches for his hands to pull him up.
"So," she agrees, suddenly looking about as nervous as Hardison feels.
"No pressure," Hardison says, because he needs to her to know it. "I can hack into the school if you want, change that C on your report card."
Ashley laughs at that, staring up at him with relief and lust.
"I want this," she says, "I want you. I'm just…this is a big deal, you know?"
"I've never done this before, either," Hardison confesses.
"Oh, thank God," Ashley says, laughing, "I didn't want to be the only idiot virgin in the room."
"You're not an idiot," Hardison says, taking a step closer, until she's close enough to touch.
She grins.
Undressing is awkward, all nervous fumbling and loud zippers. But they laugh through it, easing each other's nerves as they go. But when they finally make it to the bed, and he hovers above her, skin to skin, it's all worth it.
He gets the condom right on the first try, which he considers a small miracle, but he keeps those thoughts to himself.
"Come on," Ashley whispers, hooking one leg around his waist. He can tell she's bracing herself for the pain, and he wishes he could make it not hurt, but there's really no getting around it.
So, he kisses her again, threading one hand through her hair as the other supports him on the bed.
She cringes and gasps in pain at first, and he goes stock-still, not wanting to hurt her, even if what he's feeling is beyond good.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, but she shakes her head.
"I'm not," she says, smiling up at him with watery eyes, "keep going."
So he does.
.
.
The next afternoon, Parker and Eliot barge into his room without knocking, startling Hardison from his video game.
"We have a plan," Parker says, hopping up onto the bed next to Hardison.
Eliot chooses to lean against the wall next to the closed door, sticking his thumbs through his belt loops.
"A plan for what?" Hardison asks, already sure he's probably not going to like it.
"For getting rid of Sterling!" Parker says, grinning.
"Ok," Hardison says, slowly, "but first, you guys need to explain why you hate him so much."
"He's up to something," Eliot says. "I'm not sure what yet, but it has something to do with Sophie and Nate. I've been here five years, and Sterling's only come around in the past year. I'm pretty sure he's looking for something. I just don't know what yet."
"Are you sure you guys aren't just overreacting?" Hardison asks, flinching when Parker swats him on the arm.
"He's bad news," Parker says, seriously. "Trust me, I know bad guys from good guys. You? You're a good guy. But Sterling? He's shady, at best."
Hardison sighs. Those pretty eyes of hers will be his downfall.
"So, what's the plan?" he asks.
Eliot grins.
.
.
Putting up the hidden cameras is easier than Hardison expected. He made them himself; they're discreet but good quality, and almost completely undetectable without an electronic sweeper. Wednesday gives them nothing interesting to watch, but Eliot and Parker are determined.
"We just have to make him lose his cool," Parker insists.
They start small. Doors slammed a little too hard, voices raised a little too loud. The kitchen faucet left dripping, shoes strategically placed in optimum tripping locations.
"He's pretty anal," Eliot explains. "Everything has to be just right. He won't be able to hold out very long before he explodes. And then the cameras will catch it all."
"We just have to hope he says something incriminating," Parker adds, smirking.
"So, we have to create a dysfunctional atmosphere?" Hardison asks, nodding along.
"Exactly," Eliot says.
"Here he comes!" Parker says, shoving Hardison to the couch and climbing into his lap before he can protest.
Eliot snickers and moves to lie on the floor, propping his feet upon the couch in a tangle with Hardison and Parker's. He trains his eyes to the TV, as if he's not aware Sterling is mere footsteps away.
Meanwhile, Parker is invading Hardison's personal space more and more by the second.
"We'll show him dysfunctional," she whispers, before pressing her lips to Hardison's.
He flails at first, but gets with the program quickly as she presses against him and coaxes open his lips with her tongue. Fighting the urge to buck, he just wraps his arms around her waist and hangs on, only dimly aware of Sterling walking into the room.
"What the hell is going on here?" Sterling exclaims, as he takes in the sight of the tangled teenagers.
Hardison tries to speak, but Parker just grips his neck tighter and goes right on kissing him.
"Just a little… family bonding," Eliot says, sitting up slowly and giving Sterling a faux-innocent smile.
"You're all sick," Sterling says, practically spitting the words.
"Aw, don't say that, Uncle Jamie," Eliot drawls, standing slowly. "After all, our parents want you here. And you're doing all this out of the goodness of your heart, right?"
Sterling gapes for a moment, but then does something unexpected. He laughs.
Eliot tenses, wary of his reaction.
"You said it yourself," Sterling says, smirking, "they aren't your parents. And in a few more days, they won't even be your foster parents anymore."
Eliot's moving before he can even consider it, fully intending on punching Sterling right in his smug face. Sterling has the decency to look surprised as Eliot comes flying at him. Before he can break Sterling's face, however, he's being stopped by Hardison and Parker. Parker steps in front of him and wraps her arms around his neck, while Hardison grabs him by the shoulders and hold him back as he struggles.
"Let me go!" he yells, bandana slipping off his hair as he tries to pull away from Parker and Hardison.
"Calm down," Parker whispers into his ear, "He wins if you don't calm down."
He finally calms, allowing Parker and Hardison to pull him back a few feet.
Sterling looks like he wants to say something else, but he's apparently smarter than they've given him credit for, because he remains quiet, before making a hasty retreat to the kitchen.
They stand together for a few moments, letting their heartbeats return to normal.
Finally, Eliot shoves Parker away and heads for the stairs.
"Don't bother me," he says, before running up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Hardison stares after him, dazed, even as it all finally clicks into place.
"He thinks they're going to kick him out, doesn't he?" he asks Parker, who shrugs.
"He'll be eighteen," she says, "there's no reason for them to keep him after that."
Hardison doesn't even know what to say, or how to begin to respond to that.
"They love him," he says, finally, "and they love you. They aren't just going to kick him out because they don't get a government check anymore. Nate and Sophie are good people."
Parker doesn't say anything; she just looks away from him.
"Neither of you were in good places before, were you?" Hardison asks, "I mean, I know that no foster home is perfect, but you two had it bad."
She refuses to turn back to him, focusing on the wall to the right.
"Parker," he says, moving to hug her, tucking her head under his chin, "Nate and Sophie are not getting rid of Eliot. Or you. Or even me. I don't know who hurt you so bad, but they are never going to hurt you again. Eliot and I won't let them. Ever. Do you hear me?"
She shakes in his arms, so he just holds on tighter, pretending for her sake that he doesn't know she's crying.
.
.
The next two days go by quickly, much to everybody's relief. The still haven't been able to catch Sterling doing anything overtly shady, but Parker is holding out hope for a last minute miracle.
It's around nine at night when Hardison sees something on the stream from the camera in Nate's study.
He texts Eliot and Parker to come to his room as soon as they can without raising suspicion, and they show up within two minutes.
"What is it?" Eliot asks, peering at Hardison's computer.
"I'm not sure," Hardison says, "But look, he's at Nate's desk, fiddling with it."
"Nobody is allowed in there," Parker says, frowning.
"What is he looking for?" Eliot says, wondering out loud.
They watch in anticipation as Sterling moves suddenly, dropping to his knees in front of the desk. When he stands back up, he's clutching what looks like a piece of paper to his chest. He puts the desk back in order before leaving the room, tucking the paper into his jacket.
"We need to call Nate," Hardison says.
Eliot nods. "Can you email that video to him?"
"On it," Hardison says, fingers flying over the keys.
"Hey," Eliot says into the phone when Nate picks up, "You need to see something."
Parker drops into Hardison's lap and kisses him soundly.
"I knew you could do it," she says.
"I have a girlfriend," Hardison says, quietly, avoiding her gaze.
"It was just a kiss," Parker says, shrugging, "Won't happen again."
"See you soon," Eliot says as he ends the call, effectively breaking Parker and Hardison's moment.
"They'll be home in a few hours," he says, raising his eyebrows as Parker climbs off Hardison's lap.
Hardison just shrugs and shakes his head. His life is bizarre.
.
.
It all goes down surprisingly fast in the morning. Nate confronts Sterling, who admits to everything in exchange for the police not being involved. He's gone within twenty minutes of the confrontation, hopefully for good.
.
"What did he try to steal, anyway?" Parker asks, once everything is calmed down.
Nate hands her the piece of paper. She looks at it in confusion.
"It's just a sketch of some flowers," she says, "I don't get it."
"James believed it to be a lost Van Gogh sketch," Sophie explains. That desk is very old, and has a lot of history."
"Believed it to be?" Hardison asks, "It's not real?"
"It's a wonderful imitation," Nate says, "I paid good money for it, after all."
"Where's the real sketch, then?" Eliot asks, looking at Nate with something akin to awe.
"Some things are better left unknown," Nate replies, eyes twinkling with mischief. "But it's safe."
The grandfather clock chimes Midnight before anybody can protest, filling the room with the sound.
"Ooh!" Sophie exclaims, "It's officially your birthday, Eliot. Happy Birthday!"
They all chorus happy birthday to the increasingly red-faced Eliot. He mumbles out thank you's and even lets Parker and Sophie hug him.
"This is definitely the most exciting birthday so far, ever," Eliot admits, "Catching a would-be thief in the act is hard to beat."
"Well, we'll just have to try harder next year," Sophie says, laughing.
Eliot looks up before he can stop himself, letting hope show on his face freely for just a moment.
"Next year?" he asks, talking around the constricting in his throat.
"Maybe we'll get you a car," Nate muses, "Depending on how your first year of college goes, of course."
"You're stuck with us, darling," Sophie says, hugging him again, "If you want to be, of course."
Eliot laughs. It's all so ridiculous. Months of anxiety for nothing.
"What kind of car?" he asks Nate, instead, "and who said anything about college?"
"Oh, you're going to college…" Nate says.
Hardison shakes his head fondly at the pair before heading to the kitchen to get a drink. He's only somewhat surprised when Parker follows him.
He hasn't even reached the refrigerator before she's in his space again; kissing him like her life depends on it.
"It wasn't nothing," she says, eyes shining.
"Parker…"
"I'm not sorry," she says, "But I understand."
And with that, she's gone, gliding away with her dancer's grace.
Hardison watches after her before leaning against the fridge, thudding his head back with a dull thump.
.
Life goes on after that, almost too seamlessly. Hardison is glad for the fact, mostly. But sometimes he still thinks it's too easy, too good to be true. There's always that part of him that is waiting for the other shoe to drop. That's waiting for Nate and Sophie to figure out that he's no good, that he isn't worth keeping, after all.
He doesn't voice these fears, and most of the time he manages to push them back enough that he doesn't even think about them. He smiles and laughs and fights with Eliot over stupid things. All in all, life is pretty good. Even when it hurts.
Ashley breaks up with him on a Friday afternoon. Her eyes are shiny when she does it, and he's torn between consoling her, and crying his own tears.
"I love you," he says, taking her hands in his.
They were leaning against her car in the school parking lot, like they have a million times before. But now, instead of resting in his arms, she's standing in front of him, fighting to keep eye contact.
"I know," she says, "I…" her voice cracks, and she looks so crestfallen that Hardison can't help but pull her into a hug, holding her tight.
"I love you, too," she whispers against his neck, "I know you love me. But you love her more."
Hardison pulls back, surprised.
"What?" he says, "Who?"
Ashley laughs bitterly, and it catches him off guard. He doesn't think he's ever heard her sound bitter before. It makes his stomach twist in unpleasant knots.
"You try to hide it," she says, and she's back to looking sad again. "But you can't. When you see her, you… it's like nothing else matters. Like nothing else in the world exists besides her. I can't compete with that."
Hardison looks away, ashamed. He's been repressing his feelings for Parker since he met her. Even more since that time she kissed him in the kitchen a few months ago. He thought he'd been doing a good job.
Apparently not.
"I didn't mean to," he says, finally, looking back at Ashley.
"Oh, baby," Ashley says, "I know you didn't. You're the nicest guy I know."
"Then why?" he asks, "I thought we were happy together. I really do love you. You're my best friend."
She smiles at that, even if it's a little shaky.
"We were," she says, running a thumb across his cheek. "But I'll never be her, and as much as I love you, I deserve to be the girl that someone looks at the way that you look at her."
Hardison is silent for a moment that seems to stretch on forever, before he finally looks at her again and gives her a sad smile.
"You're amazing, you know that?" he says, still grasping her hand.
She laughs in surprise, even as the tears break. She lets him pull her into another hug, and holds on for all she's worth.
"I'm going to miss you, so much," she says.
Hardison just squeezes tighter.
"I'm not going anywhere."
.
.
It's strange at first, adjusting to life without Ashley in it. Mostly because she's still there in almost every class. She switches seats with a mousy guy named Eric that Hardison nods politely too, but never really talks with. But it's still hard. He finds himself wanting to text her in the morning, or call her at night, to share some stupid story about Eliot, or to grumble about Sophie's latest family activity plan. But he can't, and that's the worst part of it all. He hasn't just lost a girlfriend; he's lost his best friend.
It does get better, eventually. He promised her he wasn't going anywhere, and he doesn't. She's the one who pulls away. But after a few weeks, she stops avoiding his gaze at all costs. She even says hello once in a while, after a month.
Finally, after two long months, Hardison stops her after class, standing in front of her locker so she can't just ignore him.
"Hey," she says, and he's glad to hear no animosity or awkwardness in her tone.
"Can we please be friends again?" he asks, cutting to the chase, "I miss you, Ash."
She rolls her eyes, but smiles anyway.
"Yeah, yeah," she says, "I guess I kind of miss you, too."
Hardison grins and holds out his fist to her.
"A fist bump?" she asks, laughing, "Really?"
"Come on," he says, "You know you want to."
"Whatever," she says, but she bumps her fist to his, anyway. "This is still going to be weird, you know. At least for a while."
Hardison nods and shrugs. "Weird is good, I like weird. Go team weird!"
Ashley groans and shakes her head.
"Alright. Now get out of my way, I need my books."
Hardison slides over, accidentally knocking into a tiny freshman girl with giant glasses. She scrambles away, flushing red.
Ashley laughs so hard, her knees buckle and she slides to the ground, clutching her books to her chest as she shakes.
Hardison just sighs and heads to class, leaving Ashley to her laughter.
.
.
Late May comes quickly, bringing with it a heat wave that falls inconveniently on the weekend of Eliot's graduation. They're camped out on the school's field, the hot metal of the chairs almost burning through their clothes. Nate's wearing a nice suit that he looks miserable in and Sophie's in a red sundress, wielding an honest to god paper fan. Parker, inexplicably, allowed Sophie to make her wear a pretty blue dress, but the hoodie she throws over it, ruins the effect.
For Sophie, at least. Hardison is mesmerized by the sight. She still has the hoodie she stole from him; he's never had the heart to take it back. It's long on her, covering all but a slight strip of the dress. It's almost as if all she's wearing is his sweatshirt, and he shudders pleasantly at the thought, before mentally admonishing himself.
After all, Parker has known for months that he and Ashley were broken up, but she seems to have decided to pretend the whole thing between them never happened. How, Hardison doesn't know. If she feels even a fraction of the tension between them that he does, she should be going insane. But, no. Parker seems completely unaffected, and it's driving him mad. She catches him staring at her and looks back at him questioningly. He just smiles and shrugs, looking away quickly.
The ceremony drags on, seemingly for hours in the oppressive heat. But finally, they call Eliot's name, and Hardison finds himself cheering loudly, a rush of pride for his pseudo-brother coursing through him. Eliot glares at him from the stage as he accepts his diploma, but Hardison knows that's just his way.
.
"Can you help me for a minute, El?" Sophie asks, leading him away from Hardison and Parker after the ceremony.
Eliot shrugs and follows her, leaving Parker and Hardison to grin at each other over the shared secret.
"I still can't believe they actually got him a car," Parker says, huffing, "They still won't even let me drive their cars."
"To be fair, you still won't observe speed limits," Hardison replies.
Parker just sticks her tongue out at him.
Hardison laughs. "Come on," he says, let's go home to the air conditioning, I have Sophie's keys."
Parker nods and they start walking across the wide field toward the parking lot. Parker tolerates her high heels for all of thirty seconds before kicking them off angrily and leaving them on the ground. Hardison just shakes his head and scoops them up, holding them in one hand and reaching for her sweatshirt with the other.
"Slow down, woman, jeez!"
She does, reluctantly. They reach the parking lot, and Parker immediately squeaks and hops back onto the grass, the hot cement scorching her feet.
"Here," Hardison says, trying to hand her back her shoes, but she shakes her head.
"Giddy up!" she says instead, looking up at him with doe eyes.
"Fine," Hardison sighs with faux-hardship, crouching slightly so she can hop on his back. It's a short walk to the car, anyway.
"You know," he says, "You're nearly seventeen. Don't you think that's too old for piggyback rides?"
"Don't you think you're too old for video games?" Parker counters, pinching him on the arm for good measure.
He stumbles slightly, but catches himself before she can slip from his back.
"I'm gonna drop you if you keep pinching me," he warns.
Parker just leans forward and kisses him on the cheek.
"No you won't," she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.
And he knows she's right. Hardison takes a deep breath and decides that it's now or never. Surprising them both, he spins Parker around, until she's facing him, legs wrapped around his waist.
"You're stronger than you look," Parker says, and she looks appropriately impressed.
Hardison grins, somewhat bashfully. "I've been working out with Eliot," he says, shrugging.
He knows he won't be able to hold them both upright for very long, but it's worth it while it lasts.
Endless words stream through his head; so many different options that he just can't decide what to say. How to say it.
Parker makes it easy, and decides for him, kissing him soundly.
It feels like lighting through his veins, in the best possible way. He can hardly breathe.
When Parker finally pulls away to breath, Hardison lets his knees buckle at last, dropping them both to the grass. Parker simply holds on, letting him sit comfortable before readjusting herself on his lap, legs wrapped around him.
Hardison runs his hands up those perfect legs of hers, just because he can.
Parker laughs and clasps her hands behind his neck.
"People will see," she says, even if she doesn't particularly mind the idea.
Hardison blinks at that; he'd forgotten about the people.
"What took you so long?" he asks.
"I didn't want to disappoint you," Parker confesses, looking away, a flush on her cheeks.
Hardison can't believe his ears.
"How could you ever disappoint me? You're perfect."
Parker laughs loudly at that, giving him an incredulous look.
"I'm antisocial, I steal things, and I'm more than a little crazy," she says. "Ashley was perfect."
"For somebody else," Hardison says. "You aren't antisocial, you just choose your friends carefully. And you only steal things you know we'll let you have. And you're many things; beautiful, smart, imaginative, but you are not crazy."
Parker ducks her head at the compliments, but Hardison tilts it back up so he's looking in her eyes.
"Maybe you're not perfect," he admits, "but nobody is. You're perfect for me. That's all that matters."
"I'm scared," she admits, "I hate being scared. It makes you weak."
"No. It makes you strong," Hardison replies, "Because here you are, taking a chance on me, even though you're scared. You are strong and brave and perfect. And you can't convince me otherwise."
"We sound like Dawson's Creek," Parker laughs, rolling her eyes at the absurdity.
Hardison scoffs. "Here I am, pouring out my soul, and you mock me. I'm wounded, woman, wounded!"
Parker just pushes him down on the warm grass and covers his body with her own.
"I don't wanna wait…" she sings, before kissing him again.
Hardison laughs too hard to kiss her back, and she collapses against his chest with matching giggles.
"Let's go home," she says, when they finally regain their composure. "Nate and Sophie are taking Eliot out to dinner. They won't be back for a few hours."
Hardison grins, grasping Parker's hand in his own as they stand up and run for the car.
Life is good.
THE END.