A/N: I just signed up for hc_bingo, and one of my squares was 'prostitution'. Because I am apparently a one-trick pony, I wrote a Leverage family-flavored Nate-and-Parker fic. Sigh. This is unviewed by beta, please feel free to tell me if there are any errors! Or, y'know, if anyone wants to be my beta that would be good too. 8)

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They had run out of options. By anyone's standards, not just Nate's—he who hated to go into a situation without an entire alphabet's-worth of plans. "I still say I should have gone it," Sophie said with the cool control of a nervous grifter.

"Even after we have the files we still need to make the run at the company," Nate murmured, eyes fixed unblinkingly at the useless monitor. "You already have a role at the company. And Parker volunteered."

"Leaving aside the fork incident, lord knows she can take care of herself, I hate her having the comms off," Hardison said, fingers darting over the keys as the pictures flickered rapidly through all the cameras close to the building, although the actual interior of the building had nothing accessible. One of the cameras caught the stocky form of their hitter, who returned the camera's bobbed salute with a one-fingered one of his own.

"Hate is not a strong enough word for my feelings about her comm being off," Eliot growled poisonously over the system. His role as the pimp had gone off without flaws, which got Parker her way in but left him with no violent outlet for his disgust at that role. "Nate, are you sure I can't—"

"You know you can't go in unless she calls for help," Nathan returned coolly, although those in the apartment could see his knuckles whitening where his fingers were threaded together. "Parker worked alone a long time before she had us. She says she's used this con to get in and out with an item before, then we have to believe she can do it again."

They waited ten, fifteen more strained minutes before Hardison jerked alert as her earbud came online again. "Got it," she said. "On my way out the back now."

"About time!" Eliot snapped. "I'll meet you there, come out quick and quiet." She didn't respond, but there was a certain disgusted quality to her silence that communicated her scorn at someone telling her how to move out of a building after a theft.

"I need a drink," said Sophie, and Nate sighed heavily.

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After delivering Parker safely, Eliot moved on to the stakeout at the main company building, grim and twitchy with the absence of a fight, while Hardison dove into the stolen files with the finesse and focus of an Olympic swimmer. On the couch, mini-dress and kill heels discarded for her usual attire—discarded in the car, as they'd all heard clearly by Eliot's bitching over the comms—Parker let out a groan. "Uuuhhhhgh. I haven't been this sore since the last time I fell down a ventilation shaft."

"Why are you sore, sweetie?" Sophie asked in concern. "Did something happen?"

Parker waved a slim hand negligently. "Nothing really. I mean, I expected a little because the mark, Troughton, he's a big mean guy, and big mean guys are usually quick and rough, but he was a biter too." She made a grumpy face. "I hope he usually pays more than that."

Nate, at the mini bar, and Sophie, behind the couch, froze as one. "Parker," Sophie said, very calmly indeed. "You drugged him, didn't you?"

"Well, duh," she said rolling her eyes at the older woman. "Slipped it in his drink to start with. But he was a big guy. Took a while to take effect." She stretched her arms above her head and cricked her neck. "Hardison done stuff yet?"

"Not yet," said Nate in his mildest voice. "I think I'll send him home to work some and then we can finish in the morning. Hey, Parker, why don't you use my shower? Hot water might help."

"Sure."

She got up, just a little stiffly, and detoured by Hardison to flick his ear before heading upstairs with his complaints following. The older two were silent as she went up the stairs, everything she'd said (and everything that was implied) clicking rapidly through their minds. Sophie sunk down on the couch, her wide eyes meeting Nate's. "Oh my god." He put down his glass with a thud, moving rapidly to close the short distance between them. "Oh my god," she repeated, flawless control weakening, "Nate, she…but I always…but she said…." He cut her off with a short knife-like gesture, leaning in to speak quietly.

"Sophie, shut up."

Her eyes darkened, angry at him now. "Nate, he fucking—"

"Shut. Up." His quiet voice was harsh. "We cannot let the boys know. Not yet. Hardison would completely freak out, and Eliot…Eliot would probably go kill Troughton."

"And why the hell sh—"

"The plan would be a bust," he said, and put his face even closer to hers when she opened her mouth to shout at him. "It would be a bust, and everything we…everything will be for nothing. You understand me, Sophie?" Her face went still again but she nodded resentfully. "Good. Well…shit. Not good."

"She said it was fine. No worries. I know she's an adult, she can make her own choices, but she doesn't always realize…she said 'no problem', Nate."

"Maybe in Parker-terms it isn't a problem. You know how she thinks differently." He grimaced, thinking of what little they knew of her past, of some of her reasons for thinking differently. "I'll talk to her." He waited for her acknowledgement then raised his head and voice. "Hardison? I would like my house back, please. You can finish that at your place or tomorrow morning."

"Really? But I ain't hardly started…"

"Come on, dear," Sophie said, all traces of distress expertly smoothed away from her features. "Walk a lady to her car."

As they left, Nate stood still for a long, long moment, thinking. Then he scrubbed a hand over his face and went to start a pot of coffee.

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He was seated on the couch slowly sipping away when Parker came downstairs…walking on the handrail of the stairs, because she had no consideration for people's hearts. He smiled a little in spite of himself, and cleared his throat. "Hey, Parker. Come have some coffee with me."

"Oh, okay." She slithered cat-like over the back of the sofa and settled into a small curled ball, hands carefully holding the warm mug as she sniffed at it happily. "Chocolate?"

"Of course," he said, and took another swallow to buy himself a moment as she drank. "Parker," he said slowly. "I was just wondering…uh, Sophie and me were wondering…you know you didn't have to actually have sex with him, right? You didn't think we wanted you to have to?"

"Well, I didn't have to," she said thoughtfully, "but it made things a lot easier, and it's just sex."

He set his mug down carefully and hid his hands in his lap. "I am possibly the worst person in the world to be having this conversation." He shifted sideways to meet her inquisitive face. "Do you…what have you been told about the purpose of sex?"

"The purpose?" Her blonde brows furrowed. "You mean, like, babies?"

The worst person in the world to be having this conversation shrugged. "Well, yes, that's the biological purpose. I meant more…ideally, sex should be an affirmation of love. At least, it should give pleasure to both partners. Generally, if it hurts, something's not right." He gave the smallest of smiles. "Generally."

For the first time Parker started to look a little distressed. "I…don't know where this is going." She hugged her coffee closer. "Do you want to have sex with me?"

"No! God, no, Parker."

"Wait, why 'God, no'?" She set her cup down and peered at him. "You don't think I'm pretty?"

He waved helplessly, feeling that spiraling 'conversation with Parker' feeling. "That's not it, you're very pretty, Parker. But I'm about twenty years older than you."

"So?" She fidgeted, looking away from him. "People marry people their own age, but for having sex men prefer girls a lot younger than them." She raised her chin, meeting his eyes again. "We love each other, right?"

"Yes, Parker," he said gently.

"And I know you wouldn't hurt me." She still looked unhappy, but the total faith in that statement made him swallow hard as he reached out to capture her twisting hands.

"No, Parker. I wouldn't hurt you." He rubbed her cool hands between his, lightly, soothingly. "But I don't want to have sex with you." He shook his head as she started to speak. "I mean, yes, I love you," and wasn't that the Parker-effect in full, to say that so simply and sincerely?—"but I don't love you in that way."

"Well, okay," she said relaxing. "That's cool. I don't really want to have sex with you either." She looked down at their linked hands, and that little worried frown cleared away to be replaced with a beautiful awkward Parker smile. "So…why bring it up?"

He tugged at her hands a little. "Because you don't want to have sex with me. But if I asked you to, would you have?" The smile faded, and in the turn of her head he had his answer. "That's why," he said, and if his voice was only a little heartbroken it was because there was a deep anger he was working to keep from breaking out.

"Is this like a church thing? About prostitution?"

"No!" she flinched at his voice and he sighed. "No, Parker. Everyone has to make a living. It's not about that. And it's not about you having sex, either…you're a grown woman, you choose what to do with your own body." He freed one hand to rub at his eyes and the headache growing behind them. "My concern is…that it really has to be your own choice. My concern is about anyone who has taught you that sex is something you…owe them." He closed his eyes, worried that she would see the rage in them and misinterpret it. "My concern is about the people who taught you that men usually have sex with…girls…a lot younger than them. And that it's normal for it to hurt."

Parker was silent, silent and motionless as she usually only was in the middle of a heist. He debated what he should do, turned it over and over in his mind until he snorted in exasperation at himself and reached forward to pull the thief into a hug. She was stiff against him, small and deceptively fragile. A little cold, too, and without thinking (and wasn't that an odd thing for Nate Ford) he held her tighter and lightly rubbed her folded arms. "It too cold in here? You want a blanket?" She didn't answer, but with a soft sigh the tension fell out of her frame and she relaxed against him.

"It's a lot of people," she said eventually.

He pulled back a little—not as far as he intended, because Parker was much stronger than she looked and her slender arms were still locked around his middle. "Come again?"

"The people you're…concerned about. The people who taught me." She tucked herself against him again. "It's a lot."

"Well. How about this." He shifted around, leaning against the back of the sofa more comfortably, Parker almost in his lap now. "How about you—now, only if you want to—don't feel pressured or anything—but how about you write that list, whoever you can remember. Because, Parker?" He waited till she looked at him. "Those are bad people. And what do we do with bad people?"

She slowly grinned at him, wicked and off-kilter and Parker. "We take them down. "

He grinned back, just as bright and just as mean. "Exactly."