"If you keep putting that thing in your mouth, I won't be held responsible for my actions." From the bar, Hardison jumped at the familiar growling behind him. Turning his attention from the pitcher of beer he was filling, his eyes widened at being startled before giving the older man a brassy wink and grin around the obscenely blue blow pop that was stuffed into his cheek. The idea of being shoved up against the brick wall in the smokers' alley where anyone could see them gave him a thrill but they were shorthanded as it was so that would have to wait for another time.

The hitter rolled his eyes and went back to cooking for the large crowd, stealing away occasionally to catch glimpses of the game on the big screen tvs. With it being Superbowl Sunday, they were a bit surprised that the brewpub was packed to near standing-room only. It didn't help, however, that a third of their staff was home sick with colds that were going around. Even Parker was helping out in the pub, between waitressing and resolving random customer issues, which scared a few of the new folks with her general off-the-wall personality. She was almost, but not quite, too busy to pick pockets and swap wallets with other customers without any of them noticing.

Eliot told her to settle down before sending her out of the kitchen, while Hardison did his best to ease Parker's mind and antsy bouncing around. ""She's fine, mama. Just relax. Here's a video feed if it makes you feel better," he tapped a button on the ipad sitting on the bar which opened up a camera's view of the apartment upstairs, where the new nanny Erin was on the couch reading to the baby in her lap.

Eliot couldn't sleep and stared at the ceiling, watching planes fly in and out of the nearby airport through the large skylight over the bed. Even the soothing pitter-patter of drizzle didn't help. Most nights he could go a handful of hours with no problem, but not tonight. Maybe he needed a new prescription for sleeping pills since the one he picked up the week before didn't seem to be working anymore. The previous night, he was stuck in a nightmare that he couldn't wake from. . He was just about to get up and wander into the living room when he hear faint cries from the nursery growing louder and Parker rolling over toward him.

"Your turn," she murmured sleepily into his shoulder. Her bare breasts pinned his arm down, surprising strength in her small frame, and her silky ruffle panties that she almost never wore only served to tickle his hip, something that generally wouldn't bother him but now he just found to be annoying. The bed was big enough that they could, theoretically, easily fit several more people, but Parker gravitated to lay on top of both men at some point during the night, which defeated the purpose in his mind.

Crawling out from under her, Eliot found his boxers on the floor and went to see what Winter was fussing about. He flipped on the crib side lantern which gave a soft glow to the room, being the only light on in the loft. Picking her up, "What's wrong, cupcake?" After a diaper change and swaddled again in a lime green flannel blanket, she was still screaming. He offered her his pinky to tell if she was hungry, but she wasn't having any of that as he carried her into the kitchen. He pulled a bottle out of the fridge anyway in case she changed her mind.

"Y'know darlin', I don't have any idea what you want and you don't have any way to tell me, do you?"

Eliot was racking his brain trying to figure out how to soothe her, as her preferences changed daily, and even from one parent to another. Dancing in the living room didn't interest her in the least tonight, though she normally enjoyed it, as Eliot decided to sing to her. His mind froze briefly as he realized he didn't know a single lullaby and went with the first song that popped into his head, appropriate or not, that he had written a few years prior, softer than the song intended.

"...'Round eleven o'clock when the front door locks and the boys start raisin' the bottles, the girls do the thing with the Mardi Gras beads, you know they're gonna show 'em if they got 'em..."

She calmed down for a moment, mesmerized by his voice, before whimpering. At least it wasn't the inconsolable screaming from earlier.

Then he remembered reading something about white noise and vibrations of the washing machine. If it worked to give a woman an orgasm, it sure as hell better work to calm a crying baby. Only as a very last resort would he put her in the truck for a drive around town. He hadn't made that attempt yet and hoped he wouldn't have to for awhile. Making short time of filling the washer with one load of laundry (the rest could wait for later), Eliot settled her into a bouncing seat that he placed on top of the closed lid as he turned the machine on. To his relief, the steady vibrations did the trick and Winter finally started to nod off, at the same time Eliot was fighting a yawn of his own. The next morning, Parker and Hardison found both of them on the couch asleep, Eliot protectively holding his girl to his chest so she wouldn't roll off, as the thief sat down in the chair opposite with a bowl of cereal before meeting with a client later in the morning.

For the first two weeks, Parker was content to be left alone, getting settled into the new routine, while the boys entertained themselves. By the third week, she was pawing at both of them, tired of just watching them and wanting to join in. Six weeks in, she was stir-crazy.

Much as she enjoys sleepy morning sex, her favorite is getting it rough. Parker doesn't waste her time with safe words. She doesn't recall the last time she used one with Eliot since they both know they don't work. Hardison is convinced neither of them even cares, if that episode in Nebraska with Sophie and Eliot watching him get attacked by Parker is anything to go by. He'll watch the train wreck and enjoy the show, but that's their game to play. She knows what Eliot is capable of even if he refuses to volunteer specific details, yet trusts him completely. They've barely walked through the door after having dinner downstairs – Eliot had planned the Valentine's Day menu for the pub but took the night off otherwise – before she's trying to rip his clothes off, causing Hardison to stutter at the scene as Erin blushes and makes her exit as quickly and quietly as possible.

Parker's tongue swirls over the calloused pad of his thumb between her teeth as Eliot's other hand is wrapped around her throat, expertly squeezing and releasing as her breaths became quick and shallow. The blood choke hold he engages with her is relatively much safer than cutting off her airway and damaging delicate bones.

So heightened is the euphoria that washes over her that she only lasts a few minutes, a hoarse gasp escapes her as she twists the silk sheet in her fists. Eliot removes his hand from its vice grip, kissing the tip of her nose before pressing his forehead to hers, as they both catch their breaths.

"My pussy, all mine," in his trademark gravelly voice.

Hardison can't help but burst out laughing at the irony of the two kittens perched on the pillows to watch them. Eliot growls in response and Parker giggles just because, giddy as she is still floating in her high. He wouldn't want them any other way than their normal.