You don't touch the scared belongings of girls.
Eliot learned this the hard way one summer morning the year he turned fourteen when, in an attempt to help his overworked mother, he did the laundry.
He had seen his sister Izzy's favorite blanket on the couch, dirty and musty smelling with its faded rainbow hearts pattern. He really was trying to be helpful; the old tattered thing stank.
So he did the unthinkable. He washed it.
Accidentally turning it pink.
His sister had cried as though a family member had died, not her blanket temporarily losing its familiar, comforting scent.
Needless to say he's not at all surprised when he finds Parker sittng Indian-style in the floor, clutching "Bunny" to her chest and casting dirty looks at Sophie. The stuffed rabbit is notably cleaner but even more threadbare than the last time Eiot had seen it sitting the middle of Parker's neat bed in her warehouse home.
They'd all tried to brighten Parker's spirits and failed miserably. Eliot is the last line of defense, so he decides to use two things he knows best: force and food.
He walks over. Hooking his hands under her armpits, he pulls her up, forcing her to unfurl her legs and stand.
"Come with me please?" he coaxes softly. She looks at him. "You can bring Bunny - we're going to a stuffed beings friendly establishment."
Hardison rolls his eyes at them but it makes Parker smile, so whatever. He takes her hand in his and leads her from Nate's apartment.
-/-/-/-
In the truck she continues to sulk. Her lips rest on the top of Bunny's fuzzy head, a mimicry of an extended kiss.
"The smell comes back, you know?" he says.
"The last time she was washed before Sophie's little mission of mercy was when I was five."
"That part does suck," he nods and makes a left. "My sister Iz, she's the same way about her blanket. You know how I knew my brother-in-law was worth her time? Izzy was giving birth to Tyler my nephew and she wanted 'Fluffers' by her. Now at this point, Fluffers is about the size of a spiral notebook. So the nurses thought it it was trash and threw it in the biohazard bin." He taps the breaks as an old lady in a outdated Lincoln cuts him off.
"No!" Parker says disbelievingly.
"Oh yes! So Rob gloves up and digs her blanket scrap out of the bin, just so she wouldn't cry. Any man willing to risk the wrath of a nurse from our local hospital, for a scrap of old blanket? He's the kind of guy you can trust someone as special a sister with." He parks. "We're here. Come on."
Parker reads the store front sign out loud. "Cereality bar & café…"
Eliot sincerely enjoys the look of awe on Parker's face when he ushers her in and she sees nothing but cereal of every imaginable variety. Cereal boxes are literally everywhere, lining the store walls and counters.
"Now it's not exactly my idea of Epicurean delight but I thought you'd like it," he says.
A slow smile creeps across Parker's face. "It's like my own version of heaven."
"Come on, let's get in line before the ankle biters from Trinity Christian come in and wipe out the Captain Crunch," he says, nudging her into line.
"They make whatever combo I want?"
"Yeah."
"I don't like Captain Crunch. It cuts the roof of your mouth."
Eliot grins. "I'm tough; I can take it."
-/-/-/-
Eliot learns something that day.
He learns that sometimes Parker has truly disgusting taste - the Fruity Pebbles, Raisin Bran, Lucky Charms and Banana combo covered in chocolate makes his teeth hurt and his stomach shudder.
He learns that Bunny gets her own cereal.
He learns he really likes making Parker smile.
"Thanks, Eliot this…it really helped makes me feel understood…"
"Not a problem, Darlin'. My pleasure." He resists the urge to tell her it really is his pleasure, seeing the wide grin spread across her face. Over something as simple as a bowl of cereal. He feels a familiar Parker related warmth spread through him. He knows what he feels for her isn't strictly friendly but its never been the right time to tell her. Maybe one day it wil but until then he'll save this day and the memory of her smile for a rainy day.
"You eat boring cereal," she tells him.
He fights the urge to groan. "There's nothing boring about Captain Crunch and Cheerios."
She's being her usual weird self and they are bickering playfully. He considers it a job well done.
AN: I own nothing having to do with Leverage or Cereality.