"I want cookies."
Eliot jumps - on the inside, because there are appearances to maintain, even if there's no one around at the moment and Parker is too absorbed by her sudden hunger for cookies to notice she scared the hell out of him.
"Damn, Parker," he growls, turning his head to glance over his shoulder at her.
She moves so silently that she can stroke anyone to death.
No one (else) surprises him, ever, and sometimes he finds himself wondering if she can do it because of her ability or because he lets her. Because he knows that for how awkward and abnormal she can be, he can lower his defences with her.
Parker looks at him smiling, obviously waiting for the cookies she's asked for.
He shows her the empty plate he was about to wash. She frowns "I want cookies." she repeats.
"There's a piece of cake in the fridge." He informs her.
"But a cake is not cookies!" She answers in a tone that tells him she's actually pondering the possibility.
"Call Hardison and tell him to buy them on his way here."
"But they're not yours. I like yours best." she replies with a smile.
Eliot breathes in, than out. He is capable to stand torture without flinching. He mastered the art of systematically observing, accepting, understanding and training each of the levels of his persona. He endured electrocution, beating, bone breaking, cutting, drowning, flagellation, foot whipping, sleep deprivation, starvation, Palestinian hanging and nearly an abacination by separating his conscious mind from his body. He's a machine trained to have the perfect control- to use his threatening attitude to get attention and command. When Parker talks he can feel his control going out of the window and his jaw tightening to a breaking point. She makes him angry, and intolerant, and frustrated. She makes him crazy. And very human.
"Then I'm going to make you cookies." He surrenders, knowing it's the only way she will stop bothering the hell out of him. He is still wearing his apron, and cooking always relaxes him, so he supposes it's not a big deal.
"Yay!" Parker clapped once, literally jumping as she did so.
"But you stay completely still," he orders.
"Oh…" and suddenly everything is quiet, in a very unnatural way. He turns his eyes so find her standing so very still, with her arms forced along the sides of her thin body. Her eyes fixed on a point on the wall. She looks like a mannequin from a mall, and he tries to hold onto his patience.
"I meant that you need to sit down and be quiet, Parker."
"Oh!" She says again, more brightly this time. "That's good," She relaxes, relieved that she can actually move from that position.
He senses her moving behind his back and hears her sitting on the table, with her legs crossed.
"Being quiet means that I can't talk to you?"
"Exactly,"
"What if I really, really need to talk to you?"
"Do you need to?"
"No, but what if I do?"
"If it's important then you can."
"And how do I know if it's important?" She tenses up again.
Eliot feels like he can explode right now so he takes it out on the butter, beating it until it's smooth and creamy. He adds white and brown sugars and beat it until it's fluffy.
However he tries, he can't help but feel her tense body waiting for his answer.
"If there is a life or death situation involved: meaning that you are losing blood or are about to be sick or you see the laser point of a sniper rifle aiming at either of us, then you can talk." he clarifies.
"Gotcha!"
She makes no noise; usually his brain would be alert to capture every signal of her presence, his body would be ready for any sudden move she can make, instead he feels her presence and inside of him everything is calm.
He puts the cookies inside the oven and starts cleaning the counter top and the kitchen tools he used. It takes him about ten minutes, and when he is finished the cookies are ready.
Eliot takes them out of the oven and turns to put the baking sheet on the cooling rack on the table. Instead, he finds Parker with her legs crossed on the table, with the rest of her body hanging upside down like she is a bat. Her long blond hair brushed the wood floor slightly.
"Parker what the H-" but he stops immediately, realizing she fell asleep. Just like that, hanging upside down.
She could resist Palestinian hanging too, he thinks.
He leaves the sheet next to her, and shakes his head. She will surely wake up with a bad headache in the best case if she stays like that, so he bends and puts a hand behind her back and one under her thighs, lifting her.
"There's something wrong with you," he whispers, more to himself, so he will not wake her.
She rubs her face against his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck, smiling against his skin, sighing blissfully like he just said something sweet to her.
Eliot can't help but smile, while he lays her down on the couch.
When Parker wakes up, under the warm shelter of a blanket, the first thing she sees is a plate of cookies awaiting her on the coffee table.
