Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited and followed this story. I always love finding those in my inbox.
I'm on the hunt for a beta, to help keep my grammar, spelling, punctuation and characterizations in check. If anyone is interested, please send me a PM. :~)
It almost seemed like they had figured it out, had made their way towards normalcy; an odd place for either of them to land. And then Hardison was kidnapped and almost taken from them entirely, and their normalcy snagged around them
Parker had been distant ever since they had pulled Hardison from that coffin, a day that made him shudder each time he remembered it. Just thinking about it made his stomach curl into a rigid knot and his hands into fists tight enough that his knuckles cracked and lost all color. He could still picture digging frantically at that last layer of dirt that lay over the coffin and hauling Hardison from the ground.
She had spent that job on the phone with Hardison, hearing each crack in their best friend's voice, each terrified word, each gasp for air. Parker had listened to Hardison's claustrophobic panic and had had to talk the hacker through his breathing, to keep him somewhat calm and help him push back the looming hysteria until they could rescue him.
Eliot could still see Parker trembling in the cemetery as they pulled Hardison free of the coffin and each he, Sophie and Nate had taken turns in hugging their hacker, a rush of relief at his being alive and safe. Parker had shut down, unable to be that close, unable to let the emotions that were pounding through her system overtake her. She didn't know how to deal with everything going on inside of her. And so, she retreated.
Eliot had tried to do what he could to bring her back around, make her smile again. Nothing seemed to be helping. He tried cooking for her, tried offering to spar with her, tried getting her to teach him how to crack a safe, tried giving her space; anything to bring his Parker back. She would smile at him, but that light wouldn't reach her eyes, not like it had before.
She was pulling away from him physically too; had stopped arriving at his place at nights. Or if she did, she put space between them, wriggling away if he would reach for her. Frustrated and worried, after his other attempts had failed; he finally confronted her. She had maintained a hard front, one that had finally cracked when he pushed.
"I can't lose you Eliot!" Parker blurted out suddenly, the look in her eyes burning through him, "I wouldn't be able to come back from that; I don't know how."
"Parker," Eliot's answer was automatic as he reached for her, but she avoided his hands and curled her arms around her middle, "You're not gonna lose me."
"We take big risks every day, especially you," She insisted ardently, looking small and lost and scared all at once. This one, almost loosing Hardison, had brought back those old fears to the front of her mind, just when she had managed to push them away. She had been slowly managing to be comfortable in change, in letting those walls down. Now all she wanted was to hastily slap those supposedly protective pieces back into place, "Or don't you remember getting a piece of a carnival ride in the face a few weeks back?"
"So what are you going to do?" He asked quietly, loosely crossing his arms over his chest, "Take off; start back up on your own again? Can you do that? Or is just leavin' me gonna be enough to protect yourself?"
"I don't know," She stopped pacing, instead trying to shrink into herself, "I don't know how to do this. I was so scared that he was gonna die. And – and it made me think about what would happen if he actually did, or if you – you did, and I can't."
This time when he reached for her, Parker let Eliot catch her and tug her into his arms, "Baby, it's gonna be okay. Hardison's fine, we're all safe."
"Yeah, this time," Parker exclaimed as she thumped her forehead against his shoulder, "This time he's okay. This time we got him back. But that doesn't mean it's going to work every time."
"You're right," Eliot tucked one arm around her shoulders, his other hand chafing circular patterns over her back, "But even if there is another time, we're still going to go after him. Same way we'd go after you, same way you'd come lookin' for me," His voice rumbled low in her ear, while the vibrations through his chest were strangely soothing and she tucked her face into his neck, "I wish I could say that there wouldn't be a next time, but I can't. But I can tell you that I'll always do everything I can to come home in one piece."
Sniffling, Parker lifted her face so she could see him. Something in his chest twisted at the sight of the tear tracks streaking down her face, "Promise?"
"I promise," He answered solemnly and tipped his forehead to meet hers. Parker nodded slowly, tightening her arms around him as she murmured,
"Me too."
"Good," Eliot gave a small smile, which Parker tentatively returned, and he lifted his chin to press his lips gently to hers. Parker's hand came up behind Eliot's head and tangled in his hair, urging him closer and kissing him back fiercely. He let her take control of the kiss, feeling her need for that control; that need for comfort in her every movement.
She backed him up against the wall in his kitchen, pressing herself impossibly closer. When he felt one of her legs rise, her knee bump against his hip, Eliot lifted her from the floor and Parker slipped her legs around his waist, clinging to him.
Holding her up, Eliot carried her upstairs and into his bedroom. He lowered them both to the bed, careful not to place all of his weight on her and crush her. But Parker dragged him in, pulling him off balance and on top of her, before trying to tug off his t-shirt. Eliot lifted himself just enough to allow her to slip it off of him before he gathered her in both arms and flipped them, so she lay on top of him. But as Parker tried to keep undressing him, Eliot stopped her, hugging her to him,
"Eliot, what—what are you doing?" Parker stilled over him, pulling back enough to see his face, "Don't you want to—don't you want me?"
"Of course I do," Cupping her face in his hand, he swept his thumb over her cheekbone, "But not tonight baby; neither of us are in the right headspace right now."
"Fine," Parker didn't understand his motives, not completely. She made to pull herself free of his arms, but he wouldn't release her, "Why are you still holding on then?"
"Just because we're not going to sleep together, doesn't mean we can't sleep together," Eliot tried to explain, only to see the confusion on her face, "I don't want you to leave."
She thought she was getting his meaning, knowing him as well as she did, after having spent many a night beside him. But navigating the emotional nuances was still so new and confusing for her that Parker needed him to clarify, "You don't want me to do anything?"
"I want you to let me hold you," He admitted quietly, and Parker felt something warm sluice through her body. She slipped down into his arms again, resting her head on his chest and held onto him tightly, "Just get some sleep baby. I've got you."
Things had evened out after they had come through that. Each Parker and Eliot had to adjust to sharing their lives so intimately with another person. Both were loners outwardly, yet each craved that connection and affection with another person more intently than their teammates would have guessed.
Each kept their masks in place, stopping up the cracks so no one could see the broken person beneath. To be open to another person, to both give up that control over themselves and to assume that same responsibility for another, to depend on another person so completely was terrifying to them both.
Parker's first instinct had always been to run; be fast and small, nimble and agile, and always work alone. It had been her way, ingrained through years of loneliness and of being the only person she'd been able to count on, to disappear before the possibility of emotional pain arose.
Eliot buried everything; shoved it all down as deep as he could send it until he felt nothing at all. The guilt, anger and self-loathing had culminated in a writhing mass that had nearly destroyed him.
They had definitely hit a few snags along the way.
Parker hadn't been happy with the idea of Nurse Gail, and had slipped away from Hardison's in-depth description of Hardy/Parker 2000's features to tell him so. Gail actually was a nurse, a private one who worked for a guy who'd owed him a favor. The nurse had been dismissed and Parker had taken over helping him patch himself up.
And then Eliot hadn't been thrilled when a job called for Parker to play Hardison's girl, and she had landed a forceful kiss on the hacker to sell the bit. Parker had jumped on him as soon as they were alone after that, kissing him sweetly while her hands framed his face. It hadn't felt right, she'd informed him, not what she was looking for and she had missed the scratch of his stubble against her chin.
He had had a rough time with that job all around; another round of memories that spun nightmares that robbed him of his sleep, shaking him awake. But Parker was always there, right beside him and coaxing him back from the darkness that haunted him, distracting him from those hovering shadows.
They were stronger together, their connection a stabilizing force between them. Parker was less restless, less reckless, but no less of an adrenaline junkie. The risks she took were just less unnecessary. Eliot was lighter; less weighed down, less angry. The growl remained, but there was less real aggression behind it, the hair trigger to his temper having grown.
They had left at the same time, but separately. Their last job had been completed hours before and the team had parted ways after their usual end-of-the-job-dinner. Nate had gone back to his apartment and Sophie with him, Hardison had been muttering about leading a hoard (of what, Eliot knew better than to ask) and, as usual, Parker disappeared without an explanation or using the door. For Eliot, he was headed for home and sleep.
He got home to find her already there, not that it was surprising; considering her alleyway and fire escape shortcuts. It was nice though, to get home and find her Converse kicked off by the door and her jacket hung up in the closet. He stepped out of his own boots beside her sneakers, grimacing as he peeled off his jacket and his irritated ribs protested the movement. Making his way through his place in the dark with ease, he carefully pulled off the rest of his clothes and drug himself into the shower. With the hot water turned up high enough to nearly be scalding, he stood beneath the spray and let it beat down on his weary, abused muscles.
By the time some of the knots seemed to be unwinding, the bathroom mirror was fogged and the water started running cold and he turned off the spray. Once he was dry, he dragged on the clean pair of sweat pants (dark blue and worn soft with age, his favorite ones) that she'd left for him on the sink and shuffled into his (now their) bedroom.
Parker was already tucked into the bed, curled up on the side she had claimed as hers (the one closest to the window), with the blankets pulled up to her nose.
Eliot flipped back the covers on his side (between her and the door, which suited him fine) and sank into the mattress. Releasing a pleased sigh, he folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. A small hand slid over his chest, fingertips stroking his skin. Her head fit onto his shoulder and her leg nestled between his.
"Hey," She whispered by his ear and then he felt a pair of lips – a kiss – pressed to the underside of his jaw.
"Hey," He rasped, his eyes still shut, and closed his arms around her. One of his hands cupped her elbow, while the other rested on her hip.
Parker nuzzled her face into his shoulder and fanned her fingers over his ribs, listening for any hitch in his breathing, "You okay?" She asked as her fingers stole just below the waistband of his sweats, "That dude with the stick got a couple of nasty looking hits in."
That dude with the stick had actually been an angry ex-con (it's a very distinctive hunch) with a length of two by four. The bastard had gotten a couple of whacks in before Eliot had taken him down.
"It's not that bad," Eliot mumbled and she snorted before pressing another kiss to his jaw, "Just need to sleep it off."
"A whole ninety minutes worth?" Parker teased, but snuggled into him, wrapping her arm around his middle.
Inhaling deeply, Eliot adjusted them both so he had her flush against him and sighed out the exhale, "Sweet dreams."
"No bug bites Sparky."
It was a rare night out; no job, no client, no mark, no team; just he and Sophie strolling through the gallery and pausing to inspect the pieces. It had been a few days since their last job and he really wasn't in a rush to pick out another one. So tonight, there was no pretending to be anyone they weren't (well, not that their invitations had their real names on them, they're not crazy). Just a normal, relaxing date.
And the moment he thought relaxing, he knew he had jinxed it. As Sophie waxed on about brushstrokes and perspective, Nate tried to push away the niggling idea that something was soon going to happen. His feeling gave no indication whether the something was good or bad. Just something.
"Oh Nate, look at this," Sophie said breathlessly, veering from their path to the right to absorb (her word) the art.
Nate was looking; he was just looking in the wrong direction. Instead of the artwork, he was peering across the gallery (unobtrusively, of course) at a man of about average height or a little less, with shoulder length brown hair tied back neatly. A well tailored suit was stretched over the man's broad shoulders. Sophie could riff off the brands, but all Nate could see was that the suit was well made.
"Nate," Sophie's annoyed voice met his ear, the tone she used when he wasn't paying attention (honestly, he heard that tone fairly often), "What are you squinting at? It's definitely not the art work."
"That's Eliot," Nate observed before taking a sip from his drink, a champagne flute he'd plucked from the tray of the first waiter he'd seen (not his usual, but when in Rome) and Sophie forgot the artwork herself, craning to see.
"Who's that with him?" Sophie wondered aloud, the two of them watching closely as a tall blonde woman in a pink dress stepped up close to the hitter and toyed with the lapels of his suit jacket.
A rare smile warmed the hitter's face and his hand curled around the woman's wrist where it still rested on his chest.
Sophie smiled too and reached for Nate's shoulder, intending to pull the mastermind away and leave Eliot to his date in peace. But Nate had other ideas.
"Okay, what about that one?"
Parker carefully considered the exhibit he'd indicated for a moment, twirling her finger through the hair at the end of her side-swept ponytail, before she threaded her arm through his, "Easy."
As she leaned into him, pointing to various points of the painting and the security features (subtly, of course), Eliot smirked. And then the smirk became a true smile when at the next possibility, she snorted and replied, "Taking candy from a baby."
Moments later, Parker scrunched her face up as she puzzled over that statement, "Y'know, I never got that saying. Why would anyone want to take candy from a baby? That's just mean."
Eliot's smile widened, and she stepped in front of him and tugged at the lapels of the suit jacket he'd worn to blend in with the crowd. Seeming to give the train of thought a little more consideration, she shrugged one bare, pale-skinned shoulder,
"Unless it was going to hurt them, I guess," Pursing her lips almost comically, Parker sighed through her nose, and then realized Eliot was trying to cover a laugh. Rather unsuccessfully, judging by the slight rumbling in his chest as he tried to stifle the chuckle. Tugging again at his lapels, she eyed him with feigned seriousness, "You think I'm funny?"
He winked at her, curling one hand over her forearm from where it rested on his chest, "I think you're delightful darlin'."
Parker pulled a disapproving face, scrunching her brow and squinting at him. Giving a firm tug on each of his lapels, she pulled Eliot in against her and dropped a kiss to his smiling lips.
The laughing stopped as she kissed him, obediently parting his lips as the tip of her tongue flitted against them. Eliot stroked his hand over her arm from where her hand and forearm rested on his chest to her elbow and back. She leaned in closer to him, sliding one hand from his jacket to rest on his shoulder. Eliot's fingers tightened on the other, his thumb rolling over her hand from her knuckles to her wrist.
As the kiss broke, Parker leaned back and lifted a hand to his mouth, gently buffing a lingering smear of lip gloss from his bottom lip with her thumb as she asked breathlessly,
"Wanna get out of here?"
As the couple turned to leave (hand in hand, Sophie noted), Eliot's date had moved more into Nate's line of sight. Shock slackened his grasp on his glass, and Nate fumbled to recover his grip. The champagne flute now firmly in hand, the mastermind looked from the exiting couple to Sophie to ask,
"Is that?"
"Parker?" Sophie finished the question for him, her hands twisted in both the shoulder seam and just below the elbow of Nate's jacket. Bewildered, her gaze went from Nate to the swish of pink that was the final sight of the couple's exit. As the door closed behind them, Nate and Sophie looked back to each other with wide eyes.
"Eliot and Parker," Sophie murmured, her voice suggesting she was baffled by the sentence.
"Together," Nate added in much the same tone.