AN: New chapter, and the second to last. This is one I really wanted to write, so it's been a carrot for me for quite some time. It's a missing scene set after The Radio Job (s04e17). I hope you enjoy it.
.oOo.
Parker's on the roof. Again. It's not a new habit, per se. She's always liked heights and the relative darkness of night in a city. The combination grounds her, which is ironic. Her feet and mind both reach for the top of the world when she needs a place to hide and figure things out. Only birds can look down on her here.
There is, however, a new fantasy that Parker's been entertaining in the last months. One that's less about hiding and more about being found. Where Hardison comes to find her. It always stops there. She has no idea how to imagine it after that part. That doesn't make her want it less.
If she took out her phone now, typed in a few letters and sent them to Hardison, he would be here. She's thought it before, but in this her normally reliable hands betray her. They won't even reach for the pocket.
They only made it home from Alexandria this afternoon, and Parker's ears are still ringing with Nate's phone call with his dad and Eliot screaming Nate's name before they knew he'd made it. It reminds her of Hardison being buried and makes it hard for her to breath. They almost lost Nate, and they almost lost Hardison, and she will lose Hardison when she explain she doesn't want him in the right way.
Parker thinks about standing up, getting some equipment, and throwing herself over the ledge and into free falling. Making the pressure over her chest real with the whipping wind and press of a harness. Maybe she wouldn't feel so bad then.
She's stopped by the whiny sound of the door and steps coming her way.
With her eyes closed Parker can't be sure who it is until he slides down next to her and she feels the faint smell of Hardison's shower-perfume-whatever over the dusty city. She wonders if this is best or worst case scenario. "Hey girl," he says. Tiny scrapes and a displacement of air tells her he's leaning back against the wall next to her. They're breathing in little particles of each other's air and it makes Parker miserable.
Opening her eyes Parker lets her head fall to the right so she can see Hardison. He's close. She wants to put her head on his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" Hardison glances down at her.
Parker nods out of habit. She knows it's often a question not meant to be answered honestly. That's stupid, so she follows it up with a shrug. "I wish we'd found the time machine," she tells him.
"Any particular reason?" Parker shrugs again, then decides that okay, they need to do this. Why not now? It's not like there will ever come good time to wreck everything.
"We could have saved Nate's dad," she says. They both know that's not the real reason, she was talking about the time machine well before that. Hardison doesn't call her out on it, but he doesn't speak either. Forcing her words with his silence. "And maybe I could have," Parker finds the breath she takes is shaking. "I could have gone back, and, I don't know, fixed me, so we'd have a chance?"
Saying it hurts. Parker can't believe why anyone ever speaks of the bad things when it hurts this much. She's acutely aware of every beat of her heart and the way her jeans look as they stretch over her bent knees.
"Why would you need fixing?" Hardison says. There's something in his voice that Parker can't make out without looking at him, but she can't do that. He doesn't mention her admitting they don't have a chance, and that's terrifying in its own way. Has he known this for long? Has he given up on them?
"Because I don't feel right." Letting it out doesn't release the pressure inside Parker one bit. She had thought it would. Instead it increases and she can feel tears pushing into her eyes. She looks to the sky in hope they'll run back down the tear ducts. They don't.
Hardison still hasn't spoken, and he is not the silent kind, and everything is wrong, but Parker has started now and she is damn well going to finish. "I like you Hardison," she says, and she shouldn't be crying the first time she tells him that. Another thing to show how messed up she is. "I like you, and I want to be with you, but it's in the wrong way. I'm wrong, okay?" She can hear her voice, high and fast between her sobs but she doesn't give Hardison the chance to cut her off. Not now.
"I should be feeling all these things, but I'm not. I'm not! And I wish I could fix that, but I can't, and you deserve someone who wants you in all the right ways. With clouds or butterflies or burning or passion or…" Parker stumbles as she wants and fails to find a version of the next word that she dares speak out loud.
"Can I touch you?" Hardison asks in the silence she created. It's not at all what Parker expected. When she nods he slides up right next to her and puts his arm around her shoulder. She thought it would be bad, but it isn't. Following some instinct Parker didn't think she had, she leans into the embrace. She finds a not wholly uncomfortable position with her head resting half on her drawn-up knees and half on Hardison's chest. His pulse is steady and slow even if he should be freaking out.
"I might need you to clarify this for me a bit," Hardison says. "That okay?" Parker nods against his chest, feeling stupid for not being able to stop crying. Hardison's never seen her cry before, only Eliot's seen that, but maybe both of them can be okay. The world didn't end last time. "You want to be with me?" Hardison asks, and it shouldn't be a surprise that's the piece of information he latches on to. "With, with-me, like in more-than-friends with-me?"
Even though she shouldn't, Parker nods. She shouldn't give him false hopes, but they're having this conversation, and she can't lie. She wishes she could because she'd give every last bill she has, every single thing she owns, to be with Hardison. Except maybe Bunny, but he would never ask for Bunny anyway.
"But you don't want to have sex with me?" The words are blunt but Hardison's voice is soft and fuzzy. His heartbeat doesn't change at all as he asks the question. Parker shrugs since she had no idea if nodding or shaking her head means she confirms, and also doesn't know if she can confirm it. "Do you want to do it with others?"
There's a thickness to Hardison's voice that make Parker twist a little so she can look up at him. He has a tension around his eyes, barely visible in the darkness, that she knows is worry. Straightening her back Parker makes sure to look at him as she answers. Hardison must understand that it's not him who's the problem here. "Not really," Parker shrugs. "I never think about it a lot, I've got other things to do."
"Okay," Hardison says. The worry-lines are still there, but his lips are reaching for a smile. "So, have you ever, uh…" He makes a small motion with his hand and Parker finds it a weird timing for modesty.
"Sure," she says. The practical turn of conversation has at least allowed her to stop crying, making speech easier. "A few times. It seemed like something you should have tried so I did, but…" It had mostly been awkward, not that Parker plans on telling Hardison any details.
"You didn't like it?"
"It was okay." No more, no less really. After three tries Parker had written it off as something normal people liked. She was never normal. "But…" The pressure's building up again, constricting her throat and pushing tears towards her eyes. So far, keeping them in is still possible. "If you're in love you should get ridiculous, and feel lots of attraction and stuff, and really want to have sex, and that's not me. I don't think it'll ever be me. Maybe I can't fall in love."
Parker's crying again as her words run out. Because she really wants to fall in love with Hardison. Because she's so messed up she can't ever have that. Because they both deserve better.
"I can't tell you how you feel, but I think you're mistaken." Hardison's hand comes up to rest against Parker's chin, thumb spreading her tears in an even layer across her cheek. "I'm in love with you, okay?" Parker's heart stutters at Hardison's words. Whether in panic or hope she can't tell. "You know how I know that? Because several times every day, I find myself wondering what you'd think of something, or wanting to share something with you. Whenever I see you it makes me happy, and I want you as close to me as possible no matter what kind of day I'm having. When you have a good day I feel great, and if you don't I'd do anything to make you feel better again."
Hardison's words feels like breaking and being put together at the same time. The tiny thing that might be hope is casting a bleak light that mostly makes the shadows deeper with its contrast. Parker wants to hide her face but Hardison's hand coax her back into looking at him. She knows she must look ridiculous with tears and snot all over, eyes red and puffy, and the stupid expression people makes when they're crying. Hardison doesn't seem to care when he smiles at her.
"I have to admit," Hardison continues, "I do want to have sex with you, in some form. If and when you want it. But it's nowhere near the top of the list of things I think about when I think about you."
"I thought guys…" Parker starts, because she must object to something here and she has no idea what to say to the other parts.
"Yeah, no," Hardison cuts her off. "Some guys maybe, just like some girls? But most of us are not sex machines. Me, I want intimacy, and sex is a part of that, but there are many other things as well."
"Like what?" It comes out low and a little harsh, and Parker has to close her eyes as she says it. She doesn't dare to risk this horrible hope shining out through them.
"Hugging and kissing," Hardison tells her. "Cuddling, sleeping close to each other, showering together, things like that. Sometimes it can lead to sex, but it doesn't have to. It's not like every man walks around constantly turned on, we need a little work too you know." She can hear his smile.
The thing that's been crushing Parker's body is slowly losing force, leaving her feel untethered. Every word Hardison speaks washes something out of her and she feels herself go soft and pliant. Strangely enough she doesn't mind. Hardison will make sure she doesn't float away.
"I might be able to do that," Parker says. 'I might be able to love like that' is what she means, but she can't form those words, not yet. For now, she hopes Hardison hears them anyway.
All those things Hardison said, if that's what being in love is? Maybe Parker stands a chance then. Maybe they stand a chance. It's a warm feeling. Less white-water rafting and more a steady river to float away on. It's not like the movies, but since when is her life like the movies anyway?
Opening her eyes Parker finds Hardison looking at her. She knows what she wants to do, just needs to take a moment to check it's not for some stupid, destructive reason. When she finds none, she decides to not overthink it. Leaning forward she kisses him. It's slow and steady like the flow in an airduct; a promise of home and safety. He tastes like freefalling and laughter. And orange soda.
.oOo.
AN: In a way this is the end of the season for me. I've got a piece for the last episode too of course, but it's more of a prequel to Chili and Chocolate Pancakes in my mind. This is what I've been building up to for 17 chapters, and it was amazing to get to write it. Please let me know what you think.