Snapshot of a Morning
Author's Notes: So renisanz was all 'Twin, I drew you something. Write for it.' and I was like 'But my room is currently in pieces and I'm SO STRESSED OUT,' and she sniffed and said, 'Fine, don't love me,' and I felt guilty and the art was SO LOVELY so I wrote something. Then I said, 'Okay, all I have to do is edit,' and then I read it again and 'editing' turned into 'WHAT IS THIS CRAP, I HAVE TO REWRITE IT!' This is what happens when you don't write a single word for a year. Anyway, the fic takes place after the fourth season finale. There are no real spoilers, except maybe for the Gold Job, and I referred back to my Weightless fic.
They’d been on the road for nearly six hours after finishing up a particularly involved job when Hardison had metaphorically put his foot down and refused to drive anymore. With Nate grumbling in his ear about schedules and state lines, he followed the road signs to the closest chain hotel and pulled into the parking lot. He looked at the passenger seat and saw Parker grin at him, her hands busy folding a paper crane, a trick she’d picked up from the son of their latest client.
He’d been up for almost forty-eight hours straight and he counted himself lucky that he didn’t drive Lucielle into a ditch, and wouldn’t Eliot have loved that? Man spent all that time, whining in the back of the van about every freaking pothole jarring his cracked ribs, like Hardison’s hands weren't painfully cramped from all the hacking he'd done. So what if Hardison was so tired, everything looked freaking hazy, no, he had to drive because Eliot hadn’t been paying attention and got one measly black eye. Peripheral vision, his ass, how hard is it to point the van straight? Parker had made noises about taking the wheel, but they’d made a pact that she was only allowed behind the wheel in life or death circumstances because they had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving her driving.
Nate had handled checking them in while Hardison rested his head for just a second on the steering wheel. A butterfly touch against his cheek made him open his eyes a crack to see Parker for a moment before she began tugging him out of the driver’s seat, his laptop bag slung over her shoulder. He had vague impressions of a hallway, an elevator, before Parker pushed into him a room. There was a faint trace of Sophie’s perfume as he banged his shin against a couch and then, like sunbeams parting through cloudy skies, there was a bed. He would have crawled towards it, but he managed to stay upright, long enough to fall facedown onto the pillows. Hardison heard the thuds of his shoes being pulled off and dropped to the ground, the rumble of Eliot’s voice, before he faded into the oblivion of sleep.
When he woke up, it was to an empty, dark room. The drapes were drawn across the window, with only the faintest sliver of light creeping in, and he couldn’t tell if the day was starting or ending. Tilting his head back on the pillow, he could see the faintly glowing numbers of the clock. 7:30. He didn’t think they’d driven that far west yet, so it was probably morning. Stretching, his muscles’ stiffness telling him he probably hadn’t budged an inch last night. He couldn’t remember dreaming at all.
Hardison stared up at the white ceiling titles for long moments before rolling into a sitting position. Idly, he scratched his jaw, feeling the stubble that had accumulated and guessed he’d probably been out for at least twelve hours, if not more. The other bed looked slightly rumpled, but the covers were loosely tucked in. No matter how long it’d been since Eliot got out of the military, he couldn’t shake the habit of ‘tidying his bunk.’ The other man’s duffle was slung in a desk chair shoved into a corner, the strap wrapped three times around the chair’s arm. Anal bastard.
Pushing off the bed into a standing position, Hardison stretched again, working out the kinks in his back. Crossing over to the chair, he undid one of the strap’s loops. It was a small thing, but just revenge for the pure headache the man had been yesterday. He smirked to himself as he exited the room and entered the living area. It looked like Nate had swung them a suite. Hardison could see a closed door on the other side of the room and he figured Nate & Sophie were still asleep. It was anyone’s guess where Parker would choose to sleep for the night. Sometimes she’d bunk in the same room as Sophie, sometimes she’d just disappear, and sometimes he’d swear, especially lately, she’d crawl into bed with him after he was asleep.
A small sigh broke the morning stillness and he caught sight of Parker sitting on top of the room’s desk. He couldn’t help, he grinned as he took her in. A red plastic bowl was cupped in her hands, her spoon making soft clinking sounds as she chased stray cereal bits. Her head was tilted towards the half-opened window on her right, her blonde hair tangled around her shoulders. Hardison wasn’t sure Parker even owned a brush. If they didn’t have a job going on, Sophie would periodically pull Parker into the bathroom and the thief would emerge all shiny & smelling awesome.
He wasn’t exactly sure what she was wearing. He was pretty sure it was a men’s t-shirt that didn’t belong to him or Eliot. He’d wonder where she got it from if he didn’t know she filched it from somewhere. Tight gray shorts completed the ensemble, hugging her muscular legs, and he shook his head quickly to derail that train of thought. Padding over to stand behind her, his voice was raspy when he broke the silence.
“Good morning.”
She didn’t turn around to face him, just stared out the window, as she idly stirred her spoon around the bowl.
“The others went to get a real breakfast and then Eliot was going to throw you into Lucielle 2.0 whether you were awake or not. And then let me drive.”
He rolled his eyes, his grin dissolving into a scowl. Big-ass baby. He should go undo another loop. And then pull down the zipper a little. They had a pact, dammit.
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
She shrugged, causing the shirt to slip off one shoulder. Her skin didn’t have the well-polished glow of Sophie’s, but Parker had the barest hint of freckles and he barely resisted the urge to trace the pattern with his fingertips.
“Dollar for your thoughts?”
He learned, very early on, that she took the offering of a penny as a grievous insult.
“Danny. And bicycles.”
Her voice was almost too low for him to hear. Then there was a faint shriek and he realized the window overlooked the hotel pool. Some beleaguered parents had tossed their children into the water while they stretched out on the poolside lounge chairs. Hardison watched a little boy gleefully splash his older sister while he thought about Danny.
Their client had brought them videos, pictures, all flat images that barely captured the spirit of a rambunctious boy who loved to climb trees and kick a soccer ball. By the time the team had met Danny, he was bedridden, cancer sapping away that fierce energy. Origami had been one of the few things that kept him smiling. Now that his parents had the money to pay the medical bills and a bone marrow donor had been found, hopefully he’d soon have grass-stains decorating the knees of his jeans again.
“Bicycles” threw him for half a second before he remembered her brother. Parker hadn’t mentioned him since that very first time and he found himself wishing Sophie was here. Sounds of childish laughter drifted up to them and he rested his hands on the desk, racking his brain for something to say. Abruptly, she said,
“Do you remember the night we went swinging? After the job with diamonds? The violin one?”
He nodded, though he knew she couldn’t see it. That night was one of his favorite memories with Parker. He’d thought about it a lot when he worked up the plan for the Gold Job. He thought about it even more after his plan failed miserably. Taking his silence for assent, Parker asked,
“When we get to wherever Nate’s making us go, can we find a place that has a pool? Maybe with a playground nearby?”
His throat tightened and he closed his eyes briefly. It didn’t matter what she was asking, if she wanted a place to go after a job or if she wanted to try to live together in the same building, there was only one right answer.
“Whatever you want, Parker.”
He couldn’t resist anymore and bent to press a gentle kiss on her shoulder. She finally turned to look at him. She appeared so heartbreakingly vulnerable, he wanted to wrap her in his arms, but he knew this wasn’t the moment. He straightened, and she leaned back a little, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards, before she looked down and fidgeted with the bowl she was still clutching. He finally let himself trail his fingers along her skin before backing away.
“Imma gonna go get some clothes on and get breakfast before Eliot comes back and starts getting all huffy.”
She nodded, her hair bouncing a little. He made it nearly to the threshold of the bedroom when she called out to him.
“Hardison?”
He turned back and she smiled at him, that small, sweet, smile that said everything she didn't know how to put into words. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, Parker?”
“You owe me a dollar.”
They’d been on the road for nearly six hours after finishing up a particularly involved job when Hardison had metaphorically put his foot down and refused to drive anymore. With Nate grumbling in his ear about schedules and state lines, he followed the road signs to the closest chain hotel and pulled into the parking lot. He looked at the passenger seat and saw Parker grin at him, her hands busy folding a paper crane, a trick she’d picked up from the son of their latest client.
He’d been up for almost forty-eight hours straight and he counted himself lucky that he didn’t drive Lucielle into a ditch, and wouldn’t Eliot have loved that? Man spent all that time, whining in the back of the van about every freaking pothole jarring his cracked ribs, like Hardison’s hands weren't painfully cramped from all the hacking he'd done. So what if Hardison was so tired, everything looked freaking hazy, no, he had to drive because Eliot hadn’t been paying attention and got one measly black eye. Peripheral vision, his ass, how hard is it to point the van straight? Parker had made noises about taking the wheel, but they’d made a pact that she was only allowed behind the wheel in life or death circumstances because they had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving her driving.
Nate had handled checking them in while Hardison rested his head for just a second on the steering wheel. A butterfly touch against his cheek made him open his eyes a crack to see Parker for a moment before she began tugging him out of the driver’s seat, his laptop bag slung over her shoulder. He had vague impressions of a hallway, an elevator, before Parker pushed into him a room. There was a faint trace of Sophie’s perfume as he banged his shin against a couch and then, like sunbeams parting through cloudy skies, there was a bed. He would have crawled towards it, but he managed to stay upright, long enough to fall facedown onto the pillows. Hardison heard the thuds of his shoes being pulled off and dropped to the ground, the rumble of Eliot’s voice, before he faded into the oblivion of sleep.
When he woke up, it was to an empty, dark room. The drapes were drawn across the window, with only the faintest sliver of light creeping in, and he couldn’t tell if the day was starting or ending. Tilting his head back on the pillow, he could see the faintly glowing numbers of the clock. 7:30. He didn’t think they’d driven that far west yet, so it was probably morning. Stretching, his muscles’ stiffness telling him he probably hadn’t budged an inch last night. He couldn’t remember dreaming at all.
Hardison stared up at the white ceiling titles for long moments before rolling into a sitting position. Idly, he scratched his jaw, feeling the stubble that had accumulated and guessed he’d probably been out for at least twelve hours, if not more. The other bed looked slightly rumpled, but the covers were loosely tucked in. No matter how long it’d been since Eliot got out of the military, he couldn’t shake the habit of ‘tidying his bunk.’ The other man’s duffle was slung in a desk chair shoved into a corner, the strap wrapped three times around the chair’s arm. Anal bastard.
Pushing off the bed into a standing position, Hardison stretched again, working out the kinks in his back. Crossing over to the chair, he undid one of the strap’s loops. It was a small thing, but just revenge for the pure headache the man had been yesterday. He smirked to himself as he exited the room and entered the living area. It looked like Nate had swung them a suite. Hardison could see a closed door on the other side of the room and he figured Nate & Sophie were still asleep. It was anyone’s guess where Parker would choose to sleep for the night. Sometimes she’d bunk in the same room as Sophie, sometimes she’d just disappear, and sometimes he’d swear, especially lately, she’d crawl into bed with him after he was asleep.
A small sigh broke the morning stillness and he caught sight of Parker sitting on top of the room’s desk. He couldn’t help, he grinned as he took her in. A red plastic bowl was cupped in her hands, her spoon making soft clinking sounds as she chased stray cereal bits. Her head was tilted towards the half-opened window on her right, her blonde hair tangled around her shoulders. Hardison wasn’t sure Parker even owned a brush. If they didn’t have a job going on, Sophie would periodically pull Parker into the bathroom and the thief would emerge all shiny & smelling awesome.
He wasn’t exactly sure what she was wearing. He was pretty sure it was a men’s t-shirt that didn’t belong to him or Eliot. He’d wonder where she got it from if he didn’t know she filched it from somewhere. Tight gray shorts completed the ensemble, hugging her muscular legs, and he shook his head quickly to derail that train of thought. Padding over to stand behind her, his voice was raspy when he broke the silence.
“Good morning.”
She didn’t turn around to face him, just stared out the window, as she idly stirred her spoon around the bowl.
“The others went to get a real breakfast and then Eliot was going to throw you into Lucielle 2.0 whether you were awake or not. And then let me drive.”
He rolled his eyes, his grin dissolving into a scowl. Big-ass baby. He should go undo another loop. And then pull down the zipper a little. They had a pact, dammit.
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
She shrugged, causing the shirt to slip off one shoulder. Her skin didn’t have the well-polished glow of Sophie’s, but Parker had the barest hint of freckles and he barely resisted the urge to trace the pattern with his fingertips.
“Dollar for your thoughts?”
He learned, very early on, that she took the offering of a penny as a grievous insult.
“Danny. And bicycles.”
Her voice was almost too low for him to hear. Then there was a faint shriek and he realized the window overlooked the hotel pool. Some beleaguered parents had tossed their children into the water while they stretched out on the poolside lounge chairs. Hardison watched a little boy gleefully splash his older sister while he thought about Danny.
Their client had brought them videos, pictures, all flat images that barely captured the spirit of a rambunctious boy who loved to climb trees and kick a soccer ball. By the time the team had met Danny, he was bedridden, cancer sapping away that fierce energy. Origami had been one of the few things that kept him smiling. Now that his parents had the money to pay the medical bills and a bone marrow donor had been found, hopefully he’d soon have grass-stains decorating the knees of his jeans again.
“Bicycles” threw him for half a second before he remembered her brother. Parker hadn’t mentioned him since that very first time and he found himself wishing Sophie was here. Sounds of childish laughter drifted up to them and he rested his hands on the desk, racking his brain for something to say. Abruptly, she said,
“Do you remember the night we went swinging? After the job with diamonds? The violin one?”
He nodded, though he knew she couldn’t see it. That night was one of his favorite memories with Parker. He’d thought about it a lot when he worked up the plan for the Gold Job. He thought about it even more after his plan failed miserably. Taking his silence for assent, Parker asked,
“When we get to wherever Nate’s making us go, can we find a place that has a pool? Maybe with a playground nearby?”
His throat tightened and he closed his eyes briefly. It didn’t matter what she was asking, if she wanted a place to go after a job or if she wanted to try to live together in the same building, there was only one right answer.
“Whatever you want, Parker.”
He couldn’t resist anymore and bent to press a gentle kiss on her shoulder. She finally turned to look at him. She appeared so heartbreakingly vulnerable, he wanted to wrap her in his arms, but he knew this wasn’t the moment. He straightened, and she leaned back a little, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards, before she looked down and fidgeted with the bowl she was still clutching. He finally let himself trail his fingers along her skin before backing away.
“Imma gonna go get some clothes on and get breakfast before Eliot comes back and starts getting all huffy.”
She nodded, her hair bouncing a little. He made it nearly to the threshold of the bedroom when she called out to him.
“Hardison?”
He turned back and she smiled at him, that small, sweet, smile that said everything she didn't know how to put into words. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, Parker?”
“You owe me a dollar.”