The two of them hadn't been alone together in a month. Both through conscious and unconscious machinations of their teammates.

He supposed that all of them – the team - revolved around each other so much – had become so close – that these little changes... or bigger changes as the case may be... made them fearful of the repercussions. The repercussions of change.

So, yeah, the two of them had more or less been isolated, or with another member of the team since Nate found out about Sophie and Eliot.

Until tonight.

Somehow those conscious/unconscious machinations that had been working so well for the team during the past month had gotten crossed up.

It was, of course, bound to happen. There was no way that Eliot and Nate could be kept separate forever... but, Eliot gave a small smirk, the effort sure had been put in to see if it could happen.

The girls – and Hardison – were currently working their part of a Job, while he and Nate silently sat in a hotel room, coms on, listening to their progress... waiting for any sign that the muscle, or the brains, might be needed.

They'd been in the room for thirty minutes, silent except for the chatter of Hardison, Sophie, and Parker that was coming in over their earbuds.

Eliot was starting to think that he and Nate might spend the next two hours, or however long this Job was going to take, in silence.

He thought that until, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nate take his com out of his ear.

Without a word, Eliot followed suit. All of them -the whole team - always followed Nate's lead; whether they wanted to... whether they agreed with what he had to say... he was their leader, they were his soldiers.

Unfortunately for 'General' Nate, his First Lieutenant, Eliot had – arguably - betrayed him.

Nate flipped the speakers on on the laptop so that the cackle of the others could be faintly heard in the hotel room. He kept the mics on mute.

The two of them sat in the room, one of them at the small desk, the other in the armchair, and they listened with half an ear to the con falling into place.

The 'other ear' was bent towards the actions and stance and existence of the other person in the room.

Eliot was a patient man. As evidenced by the stakeouts he'd done for years; as further evidenced by his quiet, mule headed pursuit of Sophie.

But patience was eluding him now... he flinched first.

"I care about her."

He could hear Nate blow out a puff of air. Then there was more 'silence'. Two men sitting in a room with the static of a con coming in faintly over speakers...

Staring at the walls. Refusing to look at one another.

Because of a woman.

An amazing woman.

Eliot took a deep breath and lifted his head to speak again, but this time Nate beat him to it.

"It's kind of hard NOT to care about her, isn't it?"

"Damn hard."

Nate looked at Eliot, "But you know, she's not like other women. Her history, what makes her tick, … she's not easy to care about. Not long term."

"I've found her pretty easy to like in the past four years." Eliot alluded to the time that they'd all been a team. "And you've known her for longer, been interested in her for longer."

Nate opened the bottled water that sat before him. "Pretty much any version of Sophie is attractive. But you have to remember, she's a chameleon. It's not just her job, it's who she is. What she's made up of." He shrugged his shoulders, "You never know if you're attracted to the real Sophie, or some facade she's presenting. And you'll never know what's really motivating her."

Eliot tried to read Nate's face as he spoke, was he speaking as a thwarted boyfriend? Or as a friend watching out for a friend? Or...? Normally reading Nate was easy for Eliot. The man had his tells. Tells that Eliot had grown to recognize, but this time, regarding Sophie, Eliot was having a tough time reading the man.

"Is that why you didn't," Eliot paused. They were two men, and they were talking about emotions and relationships and... Sophie. He hated these kinds of fucking conversations. But he needed to know the answer. "Why aren't the two of you together?"

Nate blew out a puff of air and shrugged, "Maggie. Facades. Time. Sophie. Me. I could keep going."

Eliot gave a small smile, "Just one reason woulda worked." He straightened his spine, and locked eyes with Nate. "If you change your mind... if you're changing your mind... about wanting her? I'm not going to give her up without a fight."

The fact that Eliot didn't lose fights – went unsaid.

Nate nodded his head and offered a simple: "Understood." While Nate flipped the speakers off and put his com back in his ear, Eliot made mental note that Nate hadn't actually said he hadn't, or wouldn't, change his mind about wanting Sophie.

(())

"Sooooooo..." she was seated on the island behind him nibbling at the sliced carrots and cucumbers that he'd set aside for their dinner salads.

Without looking back, he responded, "'So', stop eating the salad fixin's." He lifted the spoon and tested the sauce he was making for their pasta.

She popped another cube of cucumber in her mouth in defiance (and in hunger) and crossed her legs as she leaned back on the counter. "Sooooo, earlier today. You and Nate? You two talked? And didn't kill each other?"

He grinned, his back still to her. "What would Nate and I have to talk about?"

"Oh don't be an ass."

He chuckled and turning around he wiped his hands on the apron that was tied around his waist. He took the four steps necessary to place him directly in front of Sophie and placing his hands on either side of her, he leaned forward and kissed her.

He tasted of tomato, and oregano, and pepper, and his lips were soft yet firm against hers and she leaned forward, into the kiss, her arms moving up over his shoulders.

When his lips left hers and moved to her jaw, trailing down along her neck, she tried to recall what she'd been saying before Eliot started to distract her. Moving her hands to his chest, she rather ineffectually pushed at him. "Eliot."

He ignored her and shifted his stance, placing his hands at her hips while he focused his attention to that little spot at the side of her throat where her neck met her shoulder; his teeth and tongue and lips teasing the soft, yielding skin.

"Eliooot." This time her voice was more of a response than a demand. And she had to make herself take a new tack. "Our dinner is going to burn." She said these words even as she parted her legs and hooked her heel around Eliot's thigh, pulling him closer.

"Fuck dinner," he mumbled against her throat. "I'll make more."

She pushed a little harder against his chest, her appreciation of the feel of him warring with her desire for answers. She tried one more time. "Eliot, you and Nate?"

He sighed, the warmth of his breath ghosting along her skin. He pulled her closer, his fingers curving in the flesh of her bottom, his hips pressed against her center. "We talked."

"Mmmm, and?" Her hands slid back up along his chest and over his shoulders.

"And... we've come to an understanding."

She pulled her head back and placed a hand on Eliot's chin, pulling his gaze from her neck to meet her own eyes. "An understanding that didn't involve fists?"

"No fists." His eyes were on her lips and she (not unhappily) resigned herself to the fact that sex was on tap, and that 'no fists' and 'an understanding' were the extent of what Eliot was going to share with her in regards to his discussion with Nate. She resigned herself to this fact until, suddenly Eliot squinted his eyes and wrinkled his nose.

Leaning forward he pecked her on the lips before moving away with a quick: "the sauce."

She gave a light snort of frustration, "yes, of course, the sauce. Why didn't I think of that?"

(())

About two weeks after they started having sex, Sophie made an attempt to slow things down with Eliot. To gain some more control over the situation.

Her attempts to dampen his... amorous focus... to place some distance between the two of them (as much distance as two people who were trying to conceive a baby could have between them) were thwarted. Actually they were more than thwarted; they completely and utterly backfired on her.

Discussion 1:

"We have separate lives, we're both busy, me with the theatre and call backs (okay, so she wasn't really getting that many callbacks, but...), and you with your... your..." she'd waved her hands in his general direction, "workouts, and punching bangs, and... and things." He'd crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow, but she had pushed on. "We don't have time to do this as often as we've been doing it, we should just... plan these events more realistically."

"So let's move in together."

What! "Bloody what!"

And then he'd used his body – and closeness – to muddle her mind. Moving just a little bit closer to her, he'd pressed his argument. "We have four months, give or take a week, to try and make this thing work. The old fashioned way." He grinned and moved, somehow, even closer to her, placing one if his hands at her back, the other at her belly. "I'd like to be around while you're pregnant. Watch the baby's growth." His grin increased, "Give some foot massages. And then, after the baby's born, we've already discussed my wantin' to be involved in her life. So we spend a few months, maybe a year with us being in the same space. Takin' care of the baby together." His hand slipped down over the curve of her ass. "You can continue your callbacks, and the theater stuff. And I" he mimicked her, "can continue with my 'workouts and punching bags and things'. It makes sense."

Honestly, when he was that close and touching her, he could tell her that walking down the street naked made sense and she'd believe him.

She grasped at the slender strings of her sanity and took the easy way out, responding, "I – we – I need to think about this a little bit." She forced herself to back away and turning from him, she crossed her arms over her chest and she moved on to a discussion about their upcoming job.

A few days later -

Discussion 2:

"Now Eliot, just... you stay right there." She was standing behind the couch and Eliot was standing in front of it - with a look in his eye. A look she'd come to recognize.

He repainted his face, faux-innocence covering his visage for just a second. And then he smirked, undoing the innocence. "What?"

"You know what. We need to talk, I've been trying to talk to you for the past few days, and you just keep... keep...". He smirked again, and she narrowed her eyes.

He dropped the smirk.

"You keep 'distracting' me."

"We're calling it 'distraction' now?"

"Never mind what we're calling it, you, you just... keep your hands and your lips and your other body parts on that side of the sofa!"

Eliot paused then nodded his head in acquiescence. He settled into the armchair closest to her. Propping his feet up on the coffee table he prompted, "Is this regarding us living together?"

"No! No. I... I still need to think about that a bit more." She started to pace. "This is about... well... ovulation." There, she'd said it. She pushed on. "You of course realize that conception happens when a woman is ovulating. And we... we have been," she gave a small smile and made brief eye contact with Eliot, "'distracting' one another rather regularly for the past couple of weeks, and realistically, we don't need to... do what we've been doing, outside of those times. I mean, outside of ovulation time." She stopped pacing. "So there, there you have it."

Eliot was silent for a few seconds. Long enough for her to worry that he hadn't understood what she was saying, what she was trying to do. She opened her mouth to start over, but he beat her to it, responding in the manner she was least expecting.

"Are you trying to back out of our deal?"

"Hmm? What!"

"You agreed to give me six months of us trying to get you pregnant my way before we try things your way."

"Well yes, I'm not saying that we shouldn't have sex -"

"No, but you're takin' away my ability to do my part to the best of my ability."

"How -"

"Women obviously conceive when they're ovulatin', but men, well, we have stronger and better swimmers if we're havin' sex on the regular. So if you're sayin' you want to cut back on things... argument could be made that you're trying to pack the deal in your favor."

Sophie peered at Eliot. She was almost positive he was playing her. Trying to keep her at his sexual beck and call. Yes, she was almost positive he was playing her. Almost.

Eliot didn't even blink as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his smart phone. "Look it up if you don't believe me."

She snorted, "right, as if I believe anything I see on the internet these days." She walked around the couch and curled up on a corner of it. "You do realize that I work with Hardison too; I've seen what he can do, and just how easily." A sudden horrified look crossed her face, "Tell me you didn't have Hardison create fake web pages on male motility for me to look at!"

An equally horrified look painted Eliot's face, "Christ! Hell no! I wouldn't..., I mean, what the hell kind of drinkin' would I have to do to ever, EVER have a motility/sperm conversation with Alec! Believe me, that conversation, never happened. Never gonna happen!"

She gave a small smile at his vehemence before frowning again. "So basically, you're saying that we have to... to... keep doing what we've been doing, in order to improve our chances to conceive?"

He dared to reach over to the couch and secure her hand in his, "Mother Nature can be a bitch darlin'." His thumb passed over her palm slowly and he kept his eyes trained on their hands.

It only took a few seconds, but she did give in. It had been a long week. And she wanted a child. Sacrifices would have to be made. She ignored the little voice in the back of her head that taunted, Well, that wasn't really much of a fight that you put up there now was it?

She huffed lightly and offered him a grudging: "Fine."

Her huff was followed by a squeal when Eliot tugged her from her seat and onto his lap. "Well, now that we have that settled," his arms wrapped around her, "let's get back to business."