"I really don't understand how people keep mixing this up with sleeping."

At some point they had migrated to his bedroom. Now they lay in what has become a normal position for them, with one small alteration: They are both naked.

"Parker, what's your real name?" Hardison asks nuzzling her bare shoulder.

"There's nothing real about it." He feels her body tense slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"That name was a scared little girl. She was angry and alone. That's not me anymore." He pulls her closer but doesn't pressure her to continue. "I don't think I'd even recognize her."

"Everybody evolves as they grow up. Or, at least, they're supposed to." The statement comforts her. 'Maybe there aren't as many things wrong with me as Eliot always says,' she thinks. "So, Where did 'Parker' come from?"

"Spiderman."

"Really?"

"The first thing I ever stole was a comic book."

"Peter Parker…"

"I thought it was so cool how he could climb walls and swing around on skyscrapers." A childlike smile spreads over her face but quickly fades. "When my brother died it was my escape. Then everything else fell apart…Eventually I just ran. I didn't want to take her with me, so I became Parker."

Her words hang in the air for a long time. Hardison knows that she rarely speaks about her past. Even though she kept her name a secret, what she did share meant a lot.

"I'm hungry," Parker announces and hops out of bed. As usual, she seems completely unbothered by her own nakedness, but for once he doesn't look away. Hardison watches with a lazy smile as she strolls to his dresser and pulls out the top half of his polar bear pajamas. She moves comfortably in the fading light of early evening, unaware of his gaze.

After slipping on the oversized shirt she steps into a pair of his boxer-briefs. Still lost in thought she walks to the window while arranging her hair into a loose braid. When she glances around looking for a hair band, she finally notices him.

"What?"

"I love you, Parker." He had imagined being smoother about it, but as he watched her, he just couldn't hold it in any longer.

An awkward blend of emotions parade across her face. Shock to joy to fear to curiosity then back to fear before shaking herself back into the moment. It was as if Parker just spun an emotional wheel of fortune and Hardison had to wait to see which one she landed on. It feels like the longest three seconds of his life.

"I know," she says trying to sound casual. She tries to imagine how Sophie would react, cool and collected. She doesn't want him to know that she can't remember the last time someone said that to her. She spots a hair tie on the bedside table and is happy to have something to occupy her hands.

"And, how is that? You're the first person I told!"

"Sophie told me."

"How does Sophie know?" He really thought his declaration of love would be more of a bombshell.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't discount mind reading. Maybe she brainwashed you!"

"She didn't brainwash me!" He doesn't think. "Nobody is going to trick me into loving someone. I did this all on my own."

"If you say so…"

"If you say so," he mocks. Hardison gets out of bed, grumbling all the way. "Woman, I know what I'm feeling. It's a- thing, in my chest…and my stomach…and a little bit in my throat. Last time I try to be romantic…I don't need this shit, with the dry mouth and the sweaty palms. Overrated is what it is." He pulls on a pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt and walks barefoot toward the kitchen.

"Come on, we're getting takeout," he says in the middle of his rant. Parker follows happily, knowing that it's only the 'bark.' He doesn't have a 'bite.' "I know, that's what she says to me. I say, 'I love you,' and she says 'I know.' That might work for Han Solo but I need a little more reassurance than that. I know…" he rambles as he sifts through the various takeout menus piled by his phone.

Hardison jolts slightly when Parker comes up behind him. She wraps her arms around his slim torso, resting her head between his shoulder blades. This silences him.

"Did you really mean it?" she asks after listening to his heartbeat for a few moments.

"Ask Sophie."

"I'm asking you."

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

"Will you say it again?"

"I would imagine it might come up again, yes," he says, his façade of annoyance melting.

"Will you say it again right now?"

"I love you." He drops the Chinese food menu and rests his palms on top of her hands.

"Thank you."

'It's better then nothing,' he concedes.