Title: his kind

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: future!fic

Pairings: Eliot/Hardison/Parker

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 165

Point of view: third

Prompt: Eliot/any, sometimes old warriors do get to retire


His kind don't get happily ever after or peace or somewhere safe to call home.

And yet.

His kind always have to fight and bleed and bruise and break, themselves or someone else, and he knew that, going in. He knew, eyes wide open, and walked into Hell.

And yet.

His kind are dangerous and deadly, and should be put down the moment they step out of line.

And yet.

"C'mon, man, Parker's gettin' antsy!" Alec calls from the den, where he and Parker are cuddled on the couch. "We will leave without you, if you ain't ready in two minutes!"

Eliot glances in the mirror as he passes it. He's gotten old. They all have. Parker hardly ever jumps off buildings anymore, Alec keeps muttering about the young kids and their newfangled tricks, and Eliot...

He's retired. He has a restaurant now, and no one's tried to kill him in almost three years.

His kind don't get to be happy, and yet...

He is.