Disclaimer: I own nothing here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the time until Season 3.
A/N: Special thanks to renisanz on LJ for asking the question and then drawing the brilliant art that led to the story. You really should check out the art on her LJ - it's gorgeous.
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Hardison had spent six weeks cajoling Parker to play an elaborate guessing game about her birthday, then another two months before he guessed right. It was a moot point, since he'd hacked his way into learning her birthday before he'd even started his campaign, but he'd known he needed to come about the information honestly or else it would just seem creepy.
(He'd also found several megabytes of highly confidential files about her time in foster care, but as much as curiosity gnawed at him, he'd resisted the urge to copy the files to one of his many hard drives. Nana would be proud that he'd finally learned an ounce of patience and restraint.)
The amount of time it took to legitimately learn Parker's birthday paled in comparison to the time and effort it took to find the perfect birthday present. He'd first had to track the thing down, then consult with structural engineers to ensure the apartment and elevator would be able to handle it. Then he'd made Eliot's life a living misery until he finally agreed to help Hardison collect the damn thing.
Which was why, in the middle of the night, the two men were struggling with a dolly laden down with 800-pounds of cloth-covered mystery. They'd wrestled it out of the van with much cursing and growling on Eliot's part and were now in the final stages of wheeling it into Hardison's apartment.
"OK, Hardison, now tell me, what the hell is this thing?" asked Eliot, the words coming out in sharp little pants.
Hardison grabbed an orange soda from the fridge and handed Eliot a beer. "Parker's birthday present."
"Yeah, you said that already," replied Eliot, snappish with impatience and tiredness.
Instead of elaborating on his answer, Hardison gestured vaguely, then drained his sweet orange soda in six large gulps. Eliot sighed and pulled off the cloth with the same flourish as a magician performing that trick with the tablecloth and the fully set table. The grey blanket swirled off, leaving Eliot standing in a dumbfounded silence.
"You got her a safe?" asked Eliot finally, walking slowly around the stout rectangular box, which was about the size of a dorm room fridge.
"Nah, man, I didn't get her a safe," said Hardison, rolling his eyes.
Eliot shot him a look that suggested that Hardison was crazy. And also, that Eliot might just tear off his head. Most of Eliot's looks seemed to have at least two meanings.
"This isn't just a safe," explained Hardison, stepping up to lay a reverent hand on the gunmetal grey surface. "This is a Glenn Reader Mystique, built in 1922. This baby was the safe of choice for robber barons and moonshiners alike. If you had money and enemies in the 20s, this was where you hid your cash."
"Oh, so it's like an antique," asked Eliot, his voice suggesting that might be something he could understand.
"No, it's way more than an antique. First of all, it was uncrackable in its day. Go ahead and have a listen."
Eliot crouched next to the safe, pressed his ear against it and gave the dial a spin. "Damn, that's a lot of clicking."
"Exactly. The dial's got tiny ball bearings in it to mask the sound of the tumblers clicking into place. Plus, the walls are eight inches thick, galvanized steel reinforced with a layer of titanium. That's why it weighs so much, even empty."
"So it's old and fancy, is that all there is to it?"
"No, what really makes it valuable is that there are only four in existence. During World War II, nearly all of them were melted down for munitions," Hardison said proudly. He'd done his research.
"Still, when it comes right down to it, you got her a safe. Isn't that kind of like buying a plumber a toilet? At least tell me you're putting something good inside of it," said Eliot, glancing around the living room.
Hardison had spent weeks thinking about what to put in the safe. Money was an obvious answer, but it seemed so impersonal, even though it was Parker's favorite thing in the world. He gestured to the kitchen table, where he'd left wrapping paper, tape, and the rest of Parker's birthday surprises.
Eliot set his beer on the table and picked up the large blocks of cash, nodding. Then he picked up the book and flipped through it.
"Growing Up Brady?" he asked as he skimmed the back cover.
"Parker told me once that was her favorite show when she a kid, that she wished she'd been Cousin Oliver," said Hardison. He left out the rest of the explanation, that he wanted Parker to see that it had all been pretend, that not even the Bradys were perfect, that behind the scenes, they were just as messed up as everyone else.
Eliot dropped the book on the table, where it made a satisfying thud. Then he picked up the last gift, the plastic orb a tell-tale sign that it had come from a gumball machine.
"What the hell, Hardison? What are you, five years old?" asked Eliot, his tone more teasing than harsh.
"Don't open it." Hardison crossed the distance between them and plucked the container from Eliot's hand. He turned it over a few times, watching the cheap plastic ring with the fake blue stone bounce around inside.
Eliot folded his arms and leaned against the counter, an expectant look on his face as he waited for the story behind the ring.
"You know that pizza place around the corner?"
"The one Parker always insists in eating in the restaurant part, even though they do carry out and the pizza just isn't that good? Yeah, what about it?"
"They have a gumball machine in there, full of crap like this. Parker saw the ring once and really wanted it, but Nate told her she wasn't allowed to steal from the neighbors and there's no way Parker's going to spend money on something she can steal."
"How many quarters did it take, Hardison?"
Hardison shook his head, refusing to answer the question, but Eliot kept badgering him until finally, he spit it out. "One hundred and eighty-seven."
That stunned Eliot into a few minutes of blessed silence, which was quickly replaced by a deep chuckle. "Let me get this straight, you spent nearly 50 bucks on a piece of plastic that's worth maybe twenty cents?"
Not for the first time in his life, Hardison wished for laser eyes. He ignored Eliot, imagining what he'd look like with a hole burned right through his forehead. Probably wouldn't be so irresistible to the ladies then, now would he?
Eliot drained his beer and dropped it in the recycling bin. He looked at Hardison, a gleam in his eye. "You better hope this goes better'n the time my daddy got my mama a fancy vacuum cleaner for Christmas."
"It will, man, it will," insisted Hardison with more conviction than he felt.
Eliot chuckled, pounded Hardison on the back, and then headed for the door. "I can't believe you got her a safe."
"I didn't get her a safe. I got her a challenge," insisted Hardison, but Eliot just shook his head and kept walking, muttering something about crazy deserving crazy.
---//---
Hardison smoothed out the red-and-white checkered tablecloth as Parker talked about the job they'd just finished, a relatively straightforward con of a middle manager in a software company. Plan A had worked, for a change, which was a relief since Hardison had plans of his own for the evening.
Eliot was right, the pizza here wasn't that good, but the ambiance was nice enough, with dim lighting and candles on the table. Hardison was trying hard not to fidget, struggling mightily to act normal. He kept reminding himself that this was just another dinner out with Parker, something they did all the damn time.
He looked up and saw the waiter arriving with the pizza, a handful of birthday candles burning on Parker's sausage and pepperoni medium. He smiled as the waiter slipped the plate in front of Parker, her expression first slightly puzzled then delighted.
"You remembered my birthday," said Parker, looking up from the pizza.
"Of course I remembered."
"And fire's one of my favorite things." She waved her hand slowly above the candles, bringing it disconcertingly close to the flame.
"Uh, Parker, the candles are just for decoration. You're supposed to blow them out and make a wish. A secret wish - don't tell me," Hardison hastened to add when he saw Parker's mouth open.
Her forehead creased in concentration, like she was trying to understand a particularly challenging math puzzle. Then she nodded and closed her eyes for a minute before she blew out the candles.
"Your present is back at my place. It's not exactly something I could carry here," said Hardison as Parker picked up a pizza slice, a smoking candle still stuck into the center of it.
She nearly dropped the slice but recovered quickly. "My present? You got me a present?"
Parker spent the rest of the dinner eating as quickly as she could and trying to guess what the present was. He was relieved that she never even got close to guessing correctly.
On their way out of the restaurant, Parker stopped at the gumball machine. She gave it a shake and then stared in disbelief, the corner of her mouth twisting up into an annoyed pout.
"What's wrong?" asked Hardison.
"My ring. It's gone. I knew I should've stolen it when I had the chance." She gave the gumball machine a kick and then pushed the door open. Hardison walked out behind her, careful to keep the grin off his face.
"Now, it's present time," said Parker, taking a few skipping steps.
"Girl, slow down. I got a belly full of pizza. I can't walk that fast. I'll get the heartburn," said Hardison, as he grabbed her hand to slow her down. She surprised him by letting her fingers curl around his and looking up at him with a grin. Hardison returned the smile, pleased that everything was, so far at least, going exactly to plan.
--//--
Hardison unlocked the door to his apartment, then looked back at Parker, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Close your eyes," he said as he turned the handle and pushed the door half-way open.
"They're closed, they're closed," Parker insisted.
"No peeking," said Hardison, pushing the door all the way open. He was about to take Parker's hand, but she walked right through the apartment door and into the middle of his living room without any hesitation or need for assistance.
Hardison had wrapped the safe with an entire roll of purple paper with shimmery silvery unicorns. He'd barely given Parker the okay to open her eyes before she was squealing and rushing across the room.
She tore off the paper in several easy movements, the noise of ripping and crinkling filling the apartment. Then she gasped and looked back at him.
"Hardison! It's a Glenn Reader Mystique. But....there's only four of them in the world," she said in an awed, reverential tone.
Hardison just grinned, her excitement over the gift even better than he'd imagined. Nana was right: it really was better to give than to receive.
"I hear they're pretty damn hard to crack. You going to give it a shot?"
Her face glowing with the challenge, Parker sank to her knees and pressed her ear against the safe. She turned the knob slowly, forehead creased as she concentrated. Then a shadow crossed her face, like her perfect day had just been ruined by a rude party-crashing thought.
She looked back at him and Hardison's first impulse was to apologize, even though he didn't know why or what he'd be apologizing for. Her fingers deftly spun the dial and then the door clicked open.
"Wow, you're good," said Hardison, impressed. "That was like seconds."
"No, you made it too easy," she said, clicking the door shut without even looking inside.
"What are you talking about?"
"Nana's birthday. Seriously, Hardison? Seriously?" She turned and folded her arms, leaning against the safe.
"How could you possibly have known that?"
"Remember that rip job in Juan? We were talking about birthdays and you said you never forgot Nana's birthday because it fit the Pythagorean Theorem."
He remembered a lot of things about that job, mostly the crappy motel and the nausea-inducing panic of trying to pull off the endgame without Nate's guidance. He sure didn't remember any conversation about birthdays. "I didn't tell you the date though."
"Hardison, it's a2 plus b2 equals c2. You know as well as I do that there are only a few dates that fit that pattern and only one makes sense for Nana: 7-24-25. July 24, 1925."
"But...." Hardison began, fumbling for words, when Parker pushed off from the safe in one smooth motion and headed for the door. "Wait! You're leaving?"
"No, not for real," replied Parker, pausing and turning slightly so she could look at him over her shoulder. "I'm giving you a do-over. Use a proper combination this time. Anything else is cheating."
"And you hate cheating," said Hardison, the situation becoming eminently clear to him.
Parker gave a nod, glad that they understood each other.
When the door shut behind her, Hardison scrambled for his computer. A few minutes on and he had three numbers that had absolutely no meaning associated with them. He reset the safe and then opened the door to his apartment.
Parker floated in and glided over to the safe. She sat down on the floor, folding her legs underneath her like she was settling in for a long briefing. She cracked her neck and then got to work. Hardison sat down on the floor several feet away, sitting at an angle as he could watch her face as she worked.
"Time me," said Parker.
Hardison looked at his watch and pressed a few buttons. "Ready, set, go."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his bent knees. Parker was really something else when she was working. Gentle and precise, there was beauty to her focus, the way her world narrowed down to just the dial in her hand and the metal beneath her ear. Except for the digital numbers spinning up on his watch, he could have completely lost track of time.
He saw the final click in the widening of her eyes, then watched as she opened the door. Her eyes glanced over the money, her smile widening. She picked up the book and read the back, nodding to herself a little.
Then her eyes fell on the gumball ring. She picked it up and bowed her head, her hair curtaining her face. Hardison couldn't see her expression and wasn't sure what was going on. He could feel a definite change in the room and for one terrifying minute, he was sure that he'd somehow managed to ruin the whole thing.
Then her hands were a blur, tearing open the plastic container and sliding the ring onto her finger. She turned, still in her crouch and launched herself at him. Her hand fisted in his scarf was all that kept his head from bouncing off the hardwood floor.
In her haste, she'd slightly misjudged the distance and her own speed. Hardison heard a click as her teeth knocked into his. Then he felt her warm, soft lips and he felt nothing but bliss, all the days of effort and dreaming finally culminating in this one perfect moment.