A/N Here we go again! Big big chapter this time and I wont lie a little nervous about this one... all the thanks in the world go to Alexandra926 for holding my hand while I wrote this chapter and trust me I needed a lot of hand holding for this one... I hope you all enjoy it! I'm just going to go hide under my bed until you finish reading it...

Five weeks since his accident and almost a month since Eliot had been released from the hospital, life was slowly returning to some semblance of normal.

Well, what constituted as normal for their merry band of thieves.

Despite the fact that they had yet to take a new job, and there was no real reason for them to be there, the whole crew was back to congregating at Nate's during the day. Just like they always did whenever they went too long between cons. For Eliot, it had two extra benefits. One, it got him out of the house after being cooped up inside for far too long. And two, it kept everyone else out of his house as well.

Eliot was currently puttering about the kitchen, pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cabinets so that he could pull something together for dinner, feeling almost up to his old self. He'd had Parker help him remove his stitches weeks ago, and had traded in his leg brace for one that fit comfortably beneath his jeans shortly after that. His bruises had long since faded and his ribs had knit themselves back together just like they had so many times before. He'd stopped wearing the sling for his broken clavicle just a few days ago and it only twinged in pain occasionally if he moved his arm wrong. In fact, the only outward sign that he'd been hurt at all, let alone so severely, was the black cast he was still wearing on his right arm.

While he ran the vegetables under the sink to wash them, Eliot glanced around the loft, his gaze landing on each of his teammates in turn. Nate was sitting on the couch, attempting to finish a crossword puzzle while pointedly ignoring Hardison who was sitting on the couch next to him. The hacker was playing one of his ridiculous video games on the big screens, shouting at the TV as though the trolls he was fighting, or whatever they were, could hear him. The girls were sitting at the dining table with a fashion magazine open in front of them. Sophie was happily chattering on about something or other, frequently pointing at the magazine for emphasis. And although she was facing away from him, the slump of Parker's shoulders, and the impatient jittering of her knee under the table, told Eliot that she wanted to be wanted to be anywhere other than where she was.

"Hey Parker," he called over to her.

The blonde whipped her head around, the SOS clear in her eyes. "Yeah, Sparky?"

"I could use some help over here. Wanna be my sous-chef?" he offered, tossing her a lifeline.

She was up and out of her seat so fast that Sophie had reach over and grab Parker's vacated chair before it toppled over.

"Your soup chef?" she repeated, confusion written all over her face, as she rounded the peninsula to join him in the kitchen. "I thought you were making stir-fry."

"No, sous not soup. S. O. U. S. It means..." He shook his head, "You know what, nevermind. Just come over here and chop the vegetables for me."

Strictly speaking, he didn't actually need the help. While he wasn't naturally ambidextrous, years of training had made him almost as good with a knife with his left hand, as he was with his right. After all, you never knew when you were going to be down a hand in a fight.

But Parker was clearly looking for an out from her conversation with Sophie, but didn't want to be rude, which was big character development on her part, so he figured he'd give her one. Handing her a knife and a couple of halved bell peppers that he'd already scraped out to get started with, he set her up at the cutting board while he turned back around to peel the carrots. When he glanced back over, he dropped what he was working on to go rescue the pepper she was hacking away at.

"Whoa, hold up there darlin'," Eliot interjected. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm cutting a pepper?" she replied, more of a question than a statement, like she wasn't sure if it was a trick question.

"No, you're mutilating a pepper is what you're doing. You've eaten my stir fry, you know what it's supposed to look like." He picked up the cutting board and scraped it straight into the sink. "You gotta do it like I showed you, remember?" he said, referring to when he'd coached her through omelet-making a few weeks ago, back when he really couldn't hold a knife yet.

He slid up behind her and covered her hands with his, bracketing her with his arms against the counter. "Like this," he said, guiding her movements. "Smooth, even cuts, let the knife do the work, and remember to keep your fingertips curled and out of the way. I don't want you cuttin' those talented hands of yours."

If it had been anyone else, Parker would have panicked and gotten stabby by now. Pinned as she was against the counter, by a man much stronger than her, with no obvious escape route. But it didn't even cross her mind. Rather than panicking, she simply listened to the low rumble of his voice in her ear and concentrated on making perfectly uniform slices of bell pepper, leaning back into his chest when he let his hands slip from hers and settle on her hips, as he supervised the cutting of another halved pepper.

"That a girl, just like that," he praised, giving her hips a gentle squeeze, before stepping away to finish peeling the carrots.

Over at the dining table, Sophie was surreptitiously watching the pair in the kitchen from underneath her eyelashes, while she pretended to be absorbed in her magazine. She got the impression that they had no idea the picture they made together. How Eliot got that soft expression that he seemed to save exclusively for Parker, while he watched her concentrate on cutting vegetables with the same seriousness that she had when cracking a safe. The way Parker seemed to shine when she turned to show off her work to Eliot and he gave her an approving nod.

Looking at them now, Sophie wondered how she ever could have believed with such certainty, that the two of them living together while Eliot recuperated was going to end in total disaster. Normally, she hated being wrong, but just this once she found she didn't mind so much.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Eliot was spending his evening sitting on the couch, drinking a beer and watching the game, enjoying some all too rare alone time. Shortly after they'd arrived back at his place, Parker had reminded him it was Tuesday and disappeared downstairs. He still thought it was odd that she'd befriended his elderly neighbor, but if they were both getting something out of it, then who was he to judge.

It was getting late when Parker finally appeared out of his peripheral vision, without him hearing her come in.

"Have a good visit?" he asked, glancing over, when she flopped down next to him.

"Yeah, Madame du Pompadour got groomed today, so she was freshly pink," Parker mentioned, getting comfortable on the couch, swinging her feet up to sit in Eliot's lap. "I want to get a dog, maybe a samoyed."

"What would you do with a dog?" Eliot asked dubiously, lifting his arm out of the way of her incoming legs, then settling his hand back down on her ankle.

"Dye it green and name it Franklin," she responded readily.

"That's a terrible reason to get a pet."

"Well I'd love, and feed, and play with Franklin too," she added, with a roll of her eyes.

He knew he probably didn't want to know, but he asked anyways. "Why Franklin?"

"For the hundred dollar bill," she replied like it should have been obvious. "Or would Hamilton be better since he founded the treasury?"

Yup. He shouldn't have asked. "It doesn't matter, because you're not getting a dog," he told her. "Especially a samoyed. Do you have any idea how high-strung herding dogs are?"

Parker pouted. "Why not? Don't you like dogs? You're not allergic to them are you?" she gasped, looking horrified at the prospect. "Because they have pills for that."

"What? No, I'm not allergic. I love dogs," he admitted truthfully, "but they're high maintenance. They need everyday care and attention. We don't exactly have a lifestyle that is conducive for pet care. We go out of town for days, sometimes weeks at a time."

Parker frowned, knowing that Eliot had a point. "What about a snake, then?" she countered. "I could just get one that's already green. That way I wouldn't even have to dye it."

"A snake?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yeah!" Parker said, clearly warming up to the idea. "Something like a ball python. They don't get too big, and they only need to eat every couple weeks."

Eliot just shook his head.

"And I could make Hardison hold it, and then watch him do that thing where he's totally freaking out, but is trying to act like he's not freaking out," she continued, a devious grin spreading across her face. "That's always funny."

For a split second, Eliot felt his resolve weakening, before he came back to his senses. "And what if we had to burn Boston with no warning," he reminded her of the realities of their chosen profession. "You couldn't just leave it behind could you?"

"No, I couldn't abandon Franklin," she sighed, knowing that Eliot was right. "Maybe I could borrow a snake for awhile, just to make Hardison squirm?" she proposed hopefully.

He considered it for a moment. Watching Hardison squirm was always a good time. "Maybe."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, until Eliot glanced over at Parker. He was about to tell her to move her feet so he could get up and get another beer until he saw the look on her face.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there?" he asked.

"Huh?" She looked over at him like she'd forgotten for a moment that he was even there.

"What's on your mind?" he asked again. She'd had the same look she got when she was trying to solve a particularly tricky security system.

"I was just thinking about something Miss Angelika said earlier when I was downstairs," Parker said, still looking distracted. "We were talking about… people. In a general way."

Eliot didn't think that was necessarily the truth, or at the very least not the whole truth, but he didn't call her on it. "And?" he asked leadingly.

"And I said, that I think people are like locks," she continued. "Every single one is different and you have to figure out how they unlock. Some are easy and practically pop open on their own. But others are harder, and you have be patient and fiddle with them. You have to listen carefully for the click."

Eliot followed the metaphor easily. While it was quite obviously Parker logic, it still made perfect sense to him.

"But Miss Angelika said that people are like jigsaw puzzles," she continued. "That you see the picture on the box and you think that you know what it looks like. But that you don't really understand a person until you look at the individual pieces and see how they fit together." She met Eliot's gaze, "What do you think?"

He'd always thought that people were more like knives, but he didn't see the need to confuse the issue further with yet another metaphor. "Darlin', I hit people for a living. I've never been much of a philosopher," he said instead.

Parker shot him an unimpressed look, and kicked him lightly with her heel. "Don't try to act dumb," she scolded. "I know better."

"Fine," he grabbed her foot so that she couldn't kick him again, as he seriously considered her question since it seemed to be important to her. "I think maybe you're both right," he told her, idly tracing her ankle bone with his fingertips. "You ever seen those puzzle boxes that have all kinds of tricks to open to them?" he asked, waiting for Parker's nod before continuing. "I think people are like that. You need to figure out each individual puzzle to open up the lock to the next layer. Some people are more complicated than others so they have more layers, more puzzles, more locks, before you get to the heart of them."

Parker considered this for several long moments and Eliot stayed quiet, letting her work through it on her own.

"But the more complicated the box... the more rewarding it is to get to the center?" she said it as though she wasn't sure that was right, looking for his validation.

"Yeah, something like that."

Parker nodded and went back to her silent musing, she was clearly still thinking hard on the subject, but it appeared to Eliot that his required participation on the subject was over. Which was why he was taken by surprise when she addressed him again.

"Can I have one of your puzzle pieces?"

"What?"

"Will you tell me something I don't know about you?"

"Parker…" he hesitated. He didn't think he wanted to play this game. Besides, wasn't she aware how much more she already got of him? How much further in he let her, compared to everyone else?

"It doesn't have to be a big piece," she assured him, when she saw his apprehension. "Just a new one. Like your favorite color."

"My favorite color is blue," he told her readily. "I don't really think that counts as a secret though," he admitted, since he didn't really care who knew that.

"Oh, is that why you have so many blue shirts?" Parker asked.

"Huh? I guess," he shrugged. He hadn't been aware that she'd paid any attention to what he wore, beyond what she wanted to steal for herself.

"I thought you just wore a lot of blue because it makes your eyes pop."

Eliot looked at her sideways. "What?"

"When you wear blue, your eyes look super blue," she said. "Don't act like you don't know that."

He just scoffed.

"Okay Sparky, if that didn't count, tell me something else," she all but demanded.

"Fine," Eliot sighed, realizing she wasn't going to let this go. He tried to think of something harmless, but still something that Parker would enjoy. And then he realized she'd just given him an idea, "I actually don't really mind it when you call me Sparky."

"Oh, I already knew that," she said with the same confidence she would say that money is green.

"No you didn't," he countered.

"Of course I did. Because when I call you Sparky, you use your 'I'm only acting annoyed because it's what people expect of me' growl, not your 'I'm actually annoyed' growl," she explained. "It's a very distinctive growl."

He shot her an unimpressed look.

"Just like that's your 'I'm actually amused, but I don't want to encourage you' look," Parker said with a smug grin.

Eliot let himself chuckle since she apparently already had his number. "You're getting a lot better at reading people. Sophie's rubbing off on you."

"Eh," Parker shrugged. "Mainly just you. Other people still confuse me. You just make more sense than everyone else."

Eliot honestly wasn't sure what to make of that, so he bypassed it completely. "Do you know why I don't hate your nickname?"

That piqued her interest. "No, why?"

"Because ever since I was a kid, every nickname anyone has ever called me has had something to with the violence I'm capable of. From the high school football team, through the army, and afterwards. But as ridiculous and dumb as it sounds, Sparky, well… it's different," he explained with a wry twist of his lips. "And so, coming from you, it doesn't really bother me so much."

"I knew you loved it," she said with a bright grin, clearly pleased with this information.

"I did not say I loved it," he corrected, although he was grinning, too. "I said I don't hate it. That's two very different things."

Parker was clearly unconcerned with semantics. "Okay, your turn," she announced.

"For what?"

"To ask me a question."

"That's alright, darlin'," he said, giving her ankle a squeeze. Parker could share whatever she wanted to, whenever she wanted to. He was never one to pry.

"No," she said insistently, looking determined. "It's only fair. You gave me a piece, so now I give you one. I want to."

"Fine," Eliot said, knowing she wouldn't let it go. He cast about for a question that wouldn't be too personal. Finally, he settled on one that seemed simple enough, and was something he was actually curious about. "Is Parker your first or your last name?"

When he felt her tense underneath his hand, he worried that maybe it was too personal.

"Neither," she answered after a long moment where he thought that she might not answer at all. "It was my brother's name."

Shiiiiiiit. He'd tried to pick something innocuous and instead he'd stepped right on an emotional landmine.

"I only knew him for ten months," she said softly. "Not even a whole year."

"Sweetheart," Eliot said gently, "you don't have to-"

"I want to," she told him, meeting his eye for a moment, before looking back down at her hands. "He was my half-brother I guess, and he had other relatives that had taken him in for awhile. We were too little to remember each other from... before. I'd already been in the system for years at that point, but it was his first placement. I was so excited when the caseworker told me who he was. He was the only thing in my life that was only mine. Everything else was either a hand me down, or shared. But he was my brother."

Eliot listened silently, but he let his hand lay heavier against her ankle, both grounding her and reminding her that he was there for her.

"I was seven and he was five, and he was so scared that first night, that I decided right there and then, that I was going to take care of him. I was a pro at being a foster, I'd already been shuffled around a dozen different homes by then, so I was gonna teach him everything I knew. And I did. For ten months." Her voice broke slightly, "And then..."

"I know, darlin'," Eliot interrupted softly, not wanting to make her say what he already knew. While this was obviously difficult for her to talk about, she was more composed than she had been the last time she'd discussed it. But he supposed that came from the fact she was volunteering the information, rather than having it ripped from her against her will.

"In the system you learn not to get attached to things," she continued, meeting his gaze, sounding more matter of fact and less emotional than she had a moment before. "You gotta travel light, and things only weigh you down. Thieves live the same way. But the one thing I could always carry with me, was his name."

"It's a fitting tribute and…" Eliot trailed off as he tried to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say in way that it would mean the most to Parker. "Thank you for sharing your puzzle piece."

She nodded hard, just once, and Eliot knew she understood. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them focused on the game playing on the television, but neither of them really watching it.

"I'm tired," Parker announced suddenly, already up and off the couch. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay, darlin'."

Eliot tracked her movements through the room. A large part of him wanted to get up and follow and make sure that she was really alright. But he also figured she might just be using the excuse of being tired so she could have some space to herself for awhile. But when she hesitated at the edge of the hallway for just a moment and glanced over her shoulder to where he was still sitting on the couch, he saw the question that she didn't want to ask in her eyes.

"You know, I might call it an early night too," he said casually, not missing the way her shoulders slumped in relief as he followed her down the hall.

They went through their nightly routines quickly and quietly and before long they were tucking themselves into bed.

Normally, Eliot had noticed, Parker would start out firmly on her own side of the bed, but as the night progressed she would slowly migrate towards the middle. By the time he woke up in the morning, she would be so close he could feel her body heat, but never quite touching. Tonight, though, she cut right to the chase, snuggling in close, leaving only centimeters between them.

Eliot was hit with the sudden urge to close that distance and draw her into his chest. As though maybe if he could just hold her tight enough, he could will away all the terrible things she'd been through. But it didn't work that way. So he simply reached up to turn off the lamp, said goodnight and closed his eyes.

It was a long time before he fell asleep.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

When Eliot woke up a few short hours later, he knew that something was wrong but he didn't know what. He reached out with all his senses, trying to figure out what had pulled him from his sleep. The smallest of whimpers coming from the bed beside him captured his notice. But the silent tears streaking down Parker's cheeks had his full attention. He knew that she had nightmares sometimes, but this was the first one that he'd personally witnessed.

"Parker…" He gently shook her shoulder, "Parker, wake up."

He was alert and ready to dodge in case she woke up swinging, but what he wasn't prepared for was for her to wake up with his gasped name on her lips, and then for her to launch herself into his arms.

"It's okay. I got you, darlin'," he said soothingly, as she shook in his arms. She was breathing in big heaving gasps and he could feel her pulse jackhammering away.

"You're okay," she said, clutching him tighter.

"Of course I'm okay," he reassured her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She squeezed her eyes tight and shook her head.

He ventured a guess. "In your dream… was I not?"

A sob escaped her chest and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"Alright, it's okay, you don't have to talk about it."

"It was so real," she said after a moment. "I was reliving it all over again. The sound of the gunshots and the breaking of glass. Watching from the roof as you went out the window. Too far away to do anything but watch as you hit the ground. The sound. I'll never forget the sound."

Eliot inhaled sharply through his teeth. They'd never talked about it, so he hadn't realized that Parker had actually seen him fall, until now.

She pulled away slightly as she recounted his accident, and Eliot got the distinct impression that even though she was looking right at him, she wasn't seeing him as he was now, sitting safe and whole in his bed, but she was seeing him as he'd been after his fall, shot up and broken.

Parker slid her hand down Eliot's chest, then up and under his shirt until it rested over the fresh, puckered scar on his stomach. "There was so much blood and it was so warm on my hands," she said in a near whisper. "But it cooled so quickly on my skin. It didn't seem right that it could go from so hot and alive, to so cold and dry, that fast."

"You tried to say my name," she continued. "But you were coughing up blood and couldn't get it out." Her fingertips ghosted over his lips, like they could wipe away the phantom blood. "I was begging you to hold on, to stay with me. And even though I could tell it hurt you to do it, you lifted your arm and touched my face," she said mirroring the action, her hand lingering on his cheek.

Eliot was barely breathing as he listened to her speak, hearing this all for the first time. His memories of that day ended well before he went out the window, and he'd never bothered to ask what happened, beyond the list of his injuries.

"And then you passed out. But in my dream..." her eyes started to water. "In my dream..."

"I didn't just pass out, did I," he finished for her.

She shook her head, and once again buried her face in his neck.

He could feel her trembling start back up and he simply held her tighter. Eliot supposed her dream made some logical sense. After talking about her brother's death earlier, and his own near miss still so fresh in her mind, it was easy to connect the same dots her subconscious did.

"Aw, sweetheart, it was just a dream," he consoled her. "I know it was bad, and I'm sorry you had to see all that, but I'm fine now."

"I don't… I don't want to be left with just your name," she choked out, as she fought back tears.

"You won't," he assured her, rubbing a calming hand up and down her back. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

"Everyone leaves eventually, Eliot," she murmured into the hollow of his throat. "It's not always by choice."

"Parker, sweetheart, look at me," he requested, bringing a hand up to cradle her face when she did, gently wiping an errant tear away with his thumb. "I won't lie to you and tell you that our jobs don't come without their fair share of risk. We both know better. But you and me, and the rest of the team, we all have each other's backs. Every time we go out, we all work together to make sure we all come home. And I promise you, that I will always do my best to come back to you. And my best is pretty damn good."

Before he even realized that she was moving, Parker had closed the distance between them and was kissing him hard.

"Whoa, Parker…?" he asked, pulling away slightly, taken aback.

"Eliot," she said with a choked sob, before smashing her mouth to his once again.

All the reasons why they shouldn't do this flashed through his mind in an instant. He told himself he needed to stop this before it went too far. But it was so hard to think, when she felt as perfect as she did pressed up against him. And when her hands dug into his hair, her fingernails scratching against his scalp, the reasons why this was a bad idea seemed so far away and hard to remember.

"Eliot, please," she pleaded against his lips. "I need..."

Any reservations he still had, evaporated in that instant. "Shhh…." he soothed, gentling the desperation in her kiss. "I've got you, baby. I'm gonna take such good care of you."

When she started tugging on his shirt, he lifted his arms to let her pull it over his head. And after she unceremoniously whipped off the shirt she was wearing, he flipped her onto her back, determined to worship every inch of her skin.

Somehow, he had been taken completely by surprise, and yet, at the same time he knew that it wasn't really a surprise at all. That this was culmination of something that had been a long time in the making. It wasn't until he had been given explicit permission, that he'd been able to let himself feel how long he'd wanted this, how much he wanted her.

She was so responsive as he took his time working his way down her body, letting him know exactly how he was making her feel. Every sigh, gasp, and moan that came from her lips, only inspired him to redouble his efforts. To draw out more of those delicious noises that he would never get tired of hearing. He had to make some adjustments due to the cast he was wearing, but it didn't slow him down. He had always been good at adapting on the fly.

Finally settling himself between her thighs, he trailed open-mouthed kisses and delicate nips up the sensitive skin of the inside of one thigh and down the other, until Parker lost patience and buried her hands in his hair and forced his mouth to where she wanted him most. His rumbling chuckle against her clit sent her arching off the mattress, and he had to use one arm across her stomach to pin her hips in place.

As worked up as she was, it didn't take long for him to make her come under his fingers and tongue, and he didn't even give her the chance to come down from her first high before he was working her right towards a second one. Her second orgasm seemed to take her by surprise as she squealed and clamped her legs down so hard around Eliot's head that it made his ears ring. When she started squirming away, he took the hint and backed off, crawling back up her body until they were eye to eye.

"Hi," she greeted casually, if not a bit breathlessly, as if he hadn't just spent the last twenty minutes with his head between her thighs.

"Hi," he echoed, looking all too proud of himself at the glazed look in her eye, knowing he'd put it there. He was so hard that it hurt, but he could wait, knowing she needed a break after coming twice in such a short timespan.

She stretched her neck up to capture his lips with her own, tasting herself on his tongue. She kissed him like she lived, hard, shameless and greedy, and he couldn't get enough of her.

Using a move that he'd taught her against him, she flipped them over so that she was now on top, looking down at him through a curtain of hair, as she straddled his waist. Not that he was complaining about the position he found himself in, especially when she then reached between them and grabbed his erection firmly around the base, squeezing gently before giving him several leisurely strokes.

"I wanna ride you," Parker said, with a positively filthy grin, swirling her thumb over the tip of his head.

"I ain't gonna stop you," Eliot replied, with a grin of his own.

And with zero ceremony, she lined herself up and sank down on top of him.

When he was enveloped in her tight welcoming heat, it was like coming home. He was so sure that he'd never fit so perfectly inside anyone before, that he had to grab her hips to keep her from moving, actually needing to take a second to regroup. Which apparently was a second too long for Parker, who started rhythmically clenching her muscles around him, until a strangled curse escaped his throat. Parker was looking down at him with a self-satisfied smirk and an arched eyebrow, so he rolled his hips in a way that made her eyes roll back in her head in retaliation.

She looked like a goddess as she rode him, all smooth pale skin and lithe muscle, her head thrown back and her body arched as she braced herself with her hands on his thighs. The position gave him the perfect view to watch himself disappear into her body over and over again, as she effortlessly found her rhythm. He was torn between just watching and needing to get his hands and mouth on her. Eventually, the second impulse won out and he sat up, taking a pert nipple into his mouth and lavishing it with attention, before switching to the other side and showing it the same treatment.

When her pace began to falter, she pushed him back flat onto the bed, leaning forward to brace herself on his chest. Finding an angle that she liked, she took exactly what she wanted, grinding down hard against his pubic bone, chasing her oncoming climax with a singular determination. It took all of his self control to hold back his own release, when her muscles clenched down around him like a vise as she came.

When she collapsed bonelessly on his chest, he gave her a few moments to breathe before he rolled them over once again. He began thrusting slowly, pulling almost all the way out before pushing all the way in, in smooth, languid strokes. He kept up with that pace until Parker started rolling her hips, meeting each thrust trying to wordlessly encourage him to move faster.

"Eliot," she whined, when he didn't seem inclined to listen.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, hiding his smirk by nibbling on her neck, just over her pounding pulse point.

"I need…"

"What do you need?"

"Harder."

He snapped his hips to hers, the whole bed rocking with each thrust.

"Faster," she demanded, when that wasn't enough, either. "More."

That was what he'd been waiting for. "Anything you want."

Taking advantage of her flexibility, he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, leaning into the split. The moan that came from Parker's throat, told him she approved of the change of angle and he began moving in earnest.

"Can you come one more time for me, sweetheart?" he asked, when he felt himself edging.

"I can't," she gasped out with a shake her head, her eyes screwed up tight.

"Sure you can, give me one more, darlin'," he said, sliding a hand between their bodies to rub her clit.

"It's too soon," she said, her voice almost a whine, even as she felt that coiling feeling deep in her belly.

"Just one more. You can do it, baby. Look at me," he commanded, waiting for her to open her eyes. "Come for me."

"El-... El-... Eliot!"

She bit down hard on his shoulder as she came, the unexpected sharp flash of pain carrying him right over the edge with a shout of her name. Pure pleasure shot through his body like the fifty thousand volts of electricity from one of those tasers Parker enjoyed so much. Lights flashed behind his eyes and even his teeth were buzzing as he came harder than he ever had in his life.

It strained his pride just a little when he realized that he'd seemingly lost all the strength in his arms and legs, and he collapsed heavily on top of her. Once he'd regained some semblance of muscle control, he tried to roll them over, but Parker grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back to her.

"No," she ordered, breathless. "Stay."

"Baby, I have to be crushing you."

"I'm fine. Just stay for a little while."

She didn't know how to explain it, but she needed his weight, heavy and solid, to bring her back to herself. She couldn't even explain it to herself. In fact, she'd never even had sex where she hadn't been on top before. She'd never had this level of trust with a past partner, to even dream of allowing them the upper hand. But now, with Eliot pressing her unyieldingly into the mattress, she simply felt safe and protected. It was a feeling she usually only had when she was secure in a rig of her own design, or when she was tucked away deep in a vent somewhere where no one would be able to follow.

He gave her a couple minutes, waiting until the small tremors that were still periodically rolling through her body seemed to abate. When he went to roll them over the second time, she didn't protest, other than a low grumble in the back of her throat. He was still trying to get his heart to slow, while he traced idle patterns on her bare back, when he felt like he should say something.

"That was…"

"Yeah."

"And it…"

"I know," Parker agreed, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat, before lifting her head with great effort. She realized they were laying at an odd angle. "Did we break your bed?"

"I don't think so," Eliot replied, not sounding entirely sure. "I think the mattress is just sliding off the box spring."

"Oh. Okay. Good," she said, settling back down. "I like your bed."

"Me too," he agreed. "I'll get up and fix it… in a minute."

And he meant to, he really did. But all his limbs felt like they were filled with lead, and moving seemed like so much effort. And when Parker's breathing deepened and slowed, he decided it wasn't worth disturbing her over and it could wait until morning.

He was just drifting off to sleep for the second time that night, this time with Parker draped across his chest, her head resting over his heart, and their legs tangled beneath the sheets, when he felt more than heard her whisper against his skin.

"LeAnne."

"What's that, sweetheart?" he asked tiredly.

"My name. It's LeAnne. You can have it, to carry with you."

Eliot knew the gravity of the gift she had just endowed him with and was humbled by it. But before he could think of an appropriate response, Parker's changing breathing told him she'd fallen asleep. Carefully, as not to disturb her, he brushed the hair off her face and pressed a lingering kiss to her crown. Despite his earlier exhaustion, it took a long time for him to fall asleep, instead choosing to bask in the warmth and affection this crazy, contrary, enigma of a woman filled him with.

A/N ::pokes head out:: soooo... what did you all think? I told ya it was gonna be a big chapter! And like I said I'm super nervous about it so if you could let me know what you thought, you'll do an anxious author's soul good :) Until next time!