(no subject)
Once they had outed Eliot as a cook, he had become the unofficial team chef. With the responsibility of feeding the team, something Eliot took with the same gravity as the rest of his job, came the responsibility of shopping for them as well. It wasn't until they sent Eliot out for reconnaissance in Maine that Nate even began to understand what an undertaking it really was.
“Seriously? Four boxes of cereal? How much cereal can Parker possibly eat in a week?”
Sophie rolled her eyes at him and dropped two extra boxes into the cart. “As many as she needs, Nate.” She plucked the list out of his hands, and it was only her considerable control over her facial expressions that kept her eyes from widening.
Six cartons of eggs? Eliot was out of his bloody mind.
On the other hand, she reasoned with herself, Eliot did make a mean omelet, and she supposed that took a considerable amount of eggs.
“This looks like a shopping list for a month,” Nate grumbled, pushing the cart down another aisle. He wondered how much of it was going to end up in the cart. “Why couldn't we wait until Eliot gets back for this? If he buys this much every week, I'm sure we have enough to make it another three days.”
“Hardison says we're nearly out of the essentials.”
Nate fixed her with a serious look. “Hardison's idea of 'essentials' are orange soda and hot pockets. I don't think he's an accurate judge of when we need to go grocery shopping.”
Sophie sighed, and reached around Nate to pick out the three loaves of bread, each one of a different variety, that Eliot had written on the list in careful, deliberate letters. She privately wondered if that was because his handwriting was typically atrocious, or if he was as detail oriented in every aspect of his life as he was with his grocery lists.
“Sophie, there's no way, even with five of us, that we go through this much food in a week.” Nate stopped the cart and turned toward her, obviously not planning on moving until she either agreed with him or proved him wrong.
She folded the list carefully, stalling for time while she picked her words. “I'm not saying you're wrong, Nate,” she unfolded the list again, glanced down at it, and took two packages of crackers from the shelf, “So, I'll let you tell Eliot that we trimmed down on what we thought we needed when he gets back.” She smiled at him blithely, and patted him on the shoulder as she walked past.
A moment later, the carts squeaky wheel followed her down the aisle, toward the eggs. She hid her smile and listened to him grumble as she loaded six cartons of eggs next to the bread.
His grumbling only got louder when he realized that they had to haul it all up the stares to the apartment once they arrived at the bar. “How does he possibly do this every week without any of us seeing him?” His arms were piled with bags and cartons of milk. The bartender had to come around the bar to get the door for him.
“He only sleeps for an hour and a half a day, you know.” Sophie slipped gracefully past him, carrying only two bags. “And he grows most of his own food, remember?”
Nate grumbled, nearly losing the bag of bread to the stairs. He tried not to imagine Eliot bringing in groceries at three am. He liked to think he'd wake up if someone were in the apartment while he was asleep, but when it came to the members of his team, the only one he was sure he would wake up to was Hardison, and that was only because his breaking and entering skills left a lot to be desired.
“This is three hours of my life that I'll never get back,” Nate said when he finally set all of his bags down on the counter. Sophie just smiled at him, pulling things out of the bags as she moved around the counter. When she stopped next to him, Nate shifted his body toward her, their personal space blatantly overlapping.
“Why don't you help me with all of this,” Sophie said, her tone low and promising, “So that the next three hours of your life can be more enjoyable.”
She smiled and watched him put away groceries. Sometimes, it was laughably easy to motivate him.
“Seriously? Four boxes of cereal? How much cereal can Parker possibly eat in a week?”
Sophie rolled her eyes at him and dropped two extra boxes into the cart. “As many as she needs, Nate.” She plucked the list out of his hands, and it was only her considerable control over her facial expressions that kept her eyes from widening.
Six cartons of eggs? Eliot was out of his bloody mind.
On the other hand, she reasoned with herself, Eliot did make a mean omelet, and she supposed that took a considerable amount of eggs.
“This looks like a shopping list for a month,” Nate grumbled, pushing the cart down another aisle. He wondered how much of it was going to end up in the cart. “Why couldn't we wait until Eliot gets back for this? If he buys this much every week, I'm sure we have enough to make it another three days.”
“Hardison says we're nearly out of the essentials.”
Nate fixed her with a serious look. “Hardison's idea of 'essentials' are orange soda and hot pockets. I don't think he's an accurate judge of when we need to go grocery shopping.”
Sophie sighed, and reached around Nate to pick out the three loaves of bread, each one of a different variety, that Eliot had written on the list in careful, deliberate letters. She privately wondered if that was because his handwriting was typically atrocious, or if he was as detail oriented in every aspect of his life as he was with his grocery lists.
“Sophie, there's no way, even with five of us, that we go through this much food in a week.” Nate stopped the cart and turned toward her, obviously not planning on moving until she either agreed with him or proved him wrong.
She folded the list carefully, stalling for time while she picked her words. “I'm not saying you're wrong, Nate,” she unfolded the list again, glanced down at it, and took two packages of crackers from the shelf, “So, I'll let you tell Eliot that we trimmed down on what we thought we needed when he gets back.” She smiled at him blithely, and patted him on the shoulder as she walked past.
A moment later, the carts squeaky wheel followed her down the aisle, toward the eggs. She hid her smile and listened to him grumble as she loaded six cartons of eggs next to the bread.
His grumbling only got louder when he realized that they had to haul it all up the stares to the apartment once they arrived at the bar. “How does he possibly do this every week without any of us seeing him?” His arms were piled with bags and cartons of milk. The bartender had to come around the bar to get the door for him.
“He only sleeps for an hour and a half a day, you know.” Sophie slipped gracefully past him, carrying only two bags. “And he grows most of his own food, remember?”
Nate grumbled, nearly losing the bag of bread to the stairs. He tried not to imagine Eliot bringing in groceries at three am. He liked to think he'd wake up if someone were in the apartment while he was asleep, but when it came to the members of his team, the only one he was sure he would wake up to was Hardison, and that was only because his breaking and entering skills left a lot to be desired.
“This is three hours of my life that I'll never get back,” Nate said when he finally set all of his bags down on the counter. Sophie just smiled at him, pulling things out of the bags as she moved around the counter. When she stopped next to him, Nate shifted his body toward her, their personal space blatantly overlapping.
“Why don't you help me with all of this,” Sophie said, her tone low and promising, “So that the next three hours of your life can be more enjoyable.”
She smiled and watched him put away groceries. Sometimes, it was laughably easy to motivate him.