Fanfiction || The Intervention Job|| Eliot/Hardison
Title: The Intervention Job
Author: Sapphire Smoke cuzimastripper
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG-13 (for now - but god knows most of my shit ends up being adult after awhile)
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison (hints of OT3)
Length Thus Far: 10,029 words
Summery: Sophie's been in the habit of holding interventions ever since the one with Nate, and this time Hardison is her next victim.
A/N: I don't know where the hell this came from, and it's probably really ridiculous lol. And dear god, now I'm writing multichapter slash. My poor femslash readers are preparing for the end of the world, I'm sure.
CHAPTER ONE
The Magazine
The use of interventions between the team started when Nate was an alcoholic jackass. It was Sophie’s idea - of course - because she likes to solve other people’s problems without taking five friggin seconds to glance at all of her own fucked up issues. But the interventions didn’t stop with Nate. Two months later, Sophie decided that everyone should hold one for Parker “to focus on her attachment issues.” Which basically, when it came down to it, was about her borderline disturbing obsession with money.
That intervention was one for the books, with Parker getting upset, really upset (which was a bitch to watch just because it was Parker, and the girl never shows any other emotion rather than blatant nonchalance and a complete lack of empathy). Eliot wouldn’t say it worked exactly, but she did stop petting it and talking to it in that creepy way that some adults sometimes feel the need to talk to babies with. Eliot’s pretty sure she was dropped on her head as a small child. Multiple times.
Sophie considers the intervention a success, however. Eliot considers it a waste of time.
The next one, or rather the current one, the one that’s making them all stand in Nate’s apartment with freaking little note cards that they all have to read off of right now, is with Hardison. While normally Eliot would go tell Sophie where she needs to stick her note card while having a nice long look at herself in the process, this one was way too good to pass up.
It all started because Parker was snooping in Hardison’s sock drawer. She just does that, snooping, being all up in everyone’s personal space without having a half a clue of how annoying she’s being. After the vibrator fiasco with Sophie (which, if Eliot is to be honest, was possibly the best day of his life - or at least the damn funniest), Eliot decided to start hiding what he didn’t want Parker to see in a storage facility. He figured everyone else would get the hint and try to do the same, seeing as putting a lock on anything is useless when it comes to Parker, and no matter how many times Sophie sits her down and tries to explain what privacy means, she still doesn’t get it.
But Hardison apparently did not take the vibrator incident as a warning, because here they all are.
The door opens to Nate’s apartment, and as soon as Hardison sees everyone standing there in a line with their little note cards, he stops dead. Eliot smirks. Damn, he can’t wait for this one.
“Ya’ll can’t be serious,” Hardison says, looking at each one of them, a look of disbelief on his face. “Are you about to bitch about how much time I spend online? Because let me remind you, it’s what I do. You take away my baby, you take away your hacker. Baby, hacker. Comprende?”
“Hardison, please sit down,” Sophie tells him gently, like she’s trying to be all motherly or some other crap that Eliot finds to be entirely too frightening. “This isn’t about your computer, and it’s more of a… well, we’re trying to help you with this, not stop it. Because there is nothing wrong with it, okay? There is nothing wrong with it,” Sophie stresses again, trying to make a point. Eliot smirks more. This is going to be so fucking funny.
Hardison’s looking at them all suspiciously, and he slowly closes the door behind him and makes his way over to the chair designated for him. “Alright…” he says slowly. “Ya’ll lost me. Is this about internet porn? Cause Eliot’s got mo-”
“Have you been in my computer?” Eliot asks, accusingly. What the hell? Man can’t even jack off without the little perv wanting to know what he’s doing it to.
“This isn’t about your internet porn, we checked that,” Sophie tells him, and Hardison’s eyebrows raise.
“You… what now?”
“I like porn,” Parker says with a little smile, just trying to put in her two cents. Everyone ignores her. Well, everyone except for Eliot, who’s now looking at her like she might actually be part human after all.
“This was Sophie’s idea,” Nate tells him, just trying to get the blame off of himself. He never wants to be at any of these either. But he bends over backwards for that freaking women more often than not recently. Like the damn tables have turned.
“Well, we found - or rather Parker found, this,” Sophie pulls out a magazine from behind her back and shows it too him. Hardison’s eyes go wide. “In your sock drawer. And Hardison, we just want you to know, that whatever you’re going through, if you’re experimenting or curious, we’re all with you one hundred percent, and support any decision you come to.”
Hardison just keeps staring at her.
“It’s okay if you think you might be gay, or bisexual. You know now it’s not really that big of a-” But Sophie’s cut off now, Hardison finding his voice.
“Alright, first of all, you,” he points to Parker, “Are never allowed in my house again. Ever. And second of all, that,” he waves his finger dramatically at the offending magazine, “Was for research.”
“What the hell kind of research makes you need to look at some guys dick up another guys ass?” Eliot asks.
“Eliot!” Sophie scolds, and hits him with the back of her hand. He growls at her. Just cause he ain’t hitting a defenseless girl, doesn’t mean he gets to be abused.
“It was for a Doctor/Master slash fic that I- actually, you know what? Ya’ll are crazy. Damn psycho with a side of nuts. Ya’ll need to get the hell out of my private life,” Hardison tells them, anger in his voice now. He gets up and snatches the magazine out of Sophie’s hand, and heads towards the door.
“Eliot,” Sophie says, and Eliot rolls his eyes. This is the part he always has to do - prevent the person from leaving. So he stands in front of the door, and Hardison stops.
“Move.”
“Just sit the fuck back down, Hardison. Let Sophie have her five minutes of her caring about someone other than herself so she can sleep better at night,” Eliot tells him, and Hardison looks at him like he’d like to rip him apart with his bare hands, but knows he could never take him, so he was pretty frustrated over it.
“Hey, that’s not why-” Sophie starts, but Parker interrupts.
“I liked the magazine, Hardison,” she tells him with a smile. Eliot isn’t sure if he wants to know if she’s just trying to be helpful, or whether she actually enjoyed it in the manner it’s supposed to be taken.
“Jesus Christ,” Hardison says, just fed up, and stalks back over to the chair and flops down in it. “Get this over with.”
Sophie smiles, happy with her small victory. “Now, we all have some things to say to you. And since I already said what I had to say, Nate, why don’t you go first?”
“Me?” Nate asks, who turns back to her from looking out of the window. Eliot’s pretty sure he was trying to plan an escape route. “Why me? Have Eliot go first.”
“Just do it, Nathan,” Sophie tells him sternly, using his full name like that’s supposed to have some kind of effect.
Obviously it does. The man has no balls.
Nate sighs and looks down at his card. He coughs kind of awkwardly before starting, “Hardison, if you’re gay, that’s fine with me.” Then silence. Sophie looks annoyed.
“That’s all you wrote?”
“All I could think of,” Nate tells her, and she makes this frustrated sound before turning to Parker. “Parker, it’s your turn.”
Why she thought Parker’s would be any better, Eliot has no idea.
She picks up her card, peering at it closely, and says in this dead monotonic voice, “Hardison, if you get a boyfriend, I think it would cool.” A pause. “Oh, and I want to know if I could ever watch.”
Eliot almost choked. Okay, maybe Parker did like the magazine in the way it was intended. Hardison just stares at her like she has five heads.
“Parker!” Sophie scolds. “That… that… okay, none of us wanted to know that.”
“You said write something supportive, isn’t that supportive?” Parker asks her, and Eliot smirks. Yup, this was definitely the most entertaining intervention ever.
Sophie sighs and waves her hand, “Eliot.”
Eliot reads off his card, “I don’t give a shit what you do, just don’t hit on me and we’re square.”
“Oh for the love of-” Sophie starts to say, past the point of frustrated herself now.
Hardison just cocked an eyebrow at him. “Cocky bastard, much? Even if I did like guys - which I ain’t saying I do - you ain’t my type.”
“I’m everyone’s type,” Eliot tells him. Because he is. He so is. I mean, look at him. He’s fucking fabulous.
Sophie sighs, “Alright, now that we’ve all had our say… or whatever the bloody hell that rubbish was supposed to pass as, this is how we’re going to help you.”
“I don’t need any-” Hardison starts to say, but is interrupted.
“We think, well, I think, that you should go to a gay bar. Try out the lifestyle a little, so you can make a more comfortable decision,” Sophie tells him. Eliot didn’t know about this part, and apparently neither did anyone else, since everyone’s looking at her. Sophie always decided the best way to ‘help’, or whatever the fuck she’s trying to look like she’s doing.
“I ain’t going to no-”
“Eliot will go with you, so you don’t have to be alone,” Sophie finishes, and Eliot’s eyebrows raise.
“What? No! Make Nate go!”
“Eliot, we’re being supportive, and Nate frankly should not be anywhere near a bar,” Sophie tells him, and Nate looks like he just won the damn lottery with that statement.
“He lives above a fucking bar!” Eliot bursts out, annoyed now. Why the hell does he have to go? It ain’t the gay thing, he doesn’t care about that. He’s secure enough in his sexuality to do all that, but spending time with Hardison? Like outside of work? Hell and no.
“I ain’t-” Hardison tries to say again, but he can’t ever get a sentence out anymore.
“Yes, you are. Both of you are. Eliot, Hardison is your friend, you need to be supportive and help him on this journey.” Eliot thinks the word friend is stretching it a bit far, but fuck it. One night, it won’t kill him. Hopefully. And Sophie will shut the fuck up for awhile, which is always a nice bonus.
“Fine, whatever,” Eliot says, crossing his arms over his chest. He still doesn’t like the plan.
“I don’t wanna-”
“Oh, just shut up, Hardison. You’re fucking going,” Eliot tells him. He ain’t dragging this shit out longer than it needs to be.
But with this intervention done, three down, one to go… Eliot already knows he’s going to be Sophie’s next victim. He has a feeling it’ll be about his hair, or something equally as stupid. The girl seriously needs therapy instead of trying to play the therapist.
And he ain’t cutting his hair. Ever.
Just for the record.
CHAPTER TWO
The Outburst
“Hold my hand.”
“What? No, hell no.”
Eliot watches as Hardison sighs in annoyance and shifts on his feet, looking up at the sign above the gay bar they were supposed to enter. “Dude, I don’t wanna go in there and be hit on!”
“Ain’t no one gonna hit on you, Hardison. You ain’t that pretty,” Eliot tells him with a scowl. He is not going to hold his hand and pretend to be his boy toy or something just to give Hardison piece of mind. No fucking way.
“I’ll have you know, I have abs of steel. Everyone thinks I’m sexy,” Hardison tells him with a cocked eyebrow and some attitude. Eliot snorts.
“Right, that’s why you have so many dates. When’s the last time you got laid, again?”
Hardison glares at him. Eliot sighs, they need to get this friggin night over with. “Just come on,” he tells him. “Least we can get a damn drink.”
Eliot starts to walk into the bar, Hardison behind him mumbling, “Great, yeah, just what I need. To be drunk in a gay bar around a bunch of other drunk gay guys that are gonna try to pick me up. Great.”
“Oh shut up, will you?” Eliot tells him, making his way to the bar. “If anyone’s gonna attempt to pick up one of us, they’re gonna try me, not you.” Not that he wants that to happen or anything, but it’s just common knowledge. It wouldn’t be the first time a gay guy hit on him, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.
He slides onto one of the bar stools, Hardison grudgingly sitting beside him. “Whiskey,” he tells the bartender who comes over to him, flashing him a dazzling smile. “On the rocks.”
The bartender smiles and starts pouring his drink. When he slides it over to Eliot he tells him, “No charge,” with a little wink. See? What did he say? He might not be gay, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to work it with… whoever.
“You’re intolerable,” Hardison tells him.
“What?” Eliot says and takes a sip of his drink. Whiskey was definitely hitting the spot right about now. “It ain’t my fault I’m pretty.”
“Aren’t you all supposed to be here helping me ‘come out’ or whatever?” Hardison tells him with a slight mock in his voice and the use of very annoying finger quotes.
“So you admit it then?”
“No!” Hardison exclaims. “Just you know, if I was - and I ain’t saying I am - kinda rude to take all the guys for yourself.”
“Jesus Christ, Hardison. I ain’t picking up no guy, just getting a free drink. Now shut up and order one for yourself,” Eliot tells him. But Hardison just stares at him, so Eliot waves the bartender over. “A whiskey for my friend here.”
“I don’t drink whiskey,” Hardison tells him.
“You do now.”
“Have I mentioned you’re intolerable?”
“Twice now,” Eliot tells him, and slides the shot over to Hardison. “Now drink up. We’re gonna have to stay here for at least an hour to make Sophie shut up about it.”
“How’s she gonna know if we just… go?” Hardison asks, in this pathetic hopeful voice. But he should know better. Sophie’s got her ways.
“Drink your shot,” Eliot orders, pointing at it. Hardison flashes his eyes at him but picks it and brings it to his lips. He makes a face and Eliot waves his finger some more, before Hardison downs it and makes a face like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world. Eliot smirks. “And do you remember Parker’s intervention? Bitch put fucking cameras everywhere to see if she was acting weird with the money.”
“She didn’t know what bar we were going to, how the hell did she put up cameras?” Hardison asks, and now his paranoid ass is looking around for them anywhere his eyes can see.
“My guess? She got Parker to follow us, girls like a freaking ninja when it comes to not wanting to be seen. Sophie don’t do any dirty work herself,” Eliot tells him, and taps his hand on the bar to get the bartenders attention. He holds up two fingers and points to him and Hardison. Another round.
“She’d be a woman in a bar full of men, how hard would it be to find her?” Hardison asks, but doesn’t look convinced about what he’s saying because now his eyes are scanning the room for a certain blonde.
“Just leave it, man. Here,” Eliot tells him, sliding him another shot and raising his up. “Just drink up, forty five more minutes. Just stop acting like a fucking spaz.” Hardison looks at the shot like it’s something offensive, and glances back up at Eliot. Eliot narrows his eyes and motions to it. He ain’t holding up his fucking glass for no reason.
“You ain’t my daddy,” Hardison tells him, like that’s supposed to mean he can’t make him do things. But of course he can.
“Drink the damn shot or I’m gonna tell Sophie you implied you wanted me to be your ‘Daddy’,” Eliot tells him with a smirk. Okay, maybe that was blackmail, but the look on Hardison’s face was too damn priceless to pass up.
“I hate you,” Hardison tells him, but picks up his shot glass and clinks it together with Eliot’s before they both take them. Hardison gags a little bit.
“Man up,” Eliot tells him, but he’s still smirking. Maybe going out with Hardison wasn’t so bad. He gets to torture him a little at least, and that’s always fun.
Four shots later, Eliot decides to let Hardison rest. It’s starting to become clear his tolerance is not as high as his is. Eliot’s a bit buzzed, sure, but Hardison… Hardison was a bit drunk now. Which would be amusing in any other circumstance, but it was funnier in here.
“Dude, that guy just looked at my ass,” Hardison tells him in a whisper, getting close to him so he could keep his voice down.
“Hardison, you’re sitting down,” Eliot tells him with a smirk.
“I am? I mean I am. I knew that. But he did, I saw it. Or he wanted to, if I stood up, he totally would have been looking,” Hardison tells him in all seriousness. It almost makes Eliot laugh. Almost. “I have to pee,” Hardison tells him suddenly, like Eliot needed to know that little fact or something, and he stands up.
“You’re right, he just looked at your ass,” Eliot says, fucking with him. He didn’t really, or well, he could have, but Eliot wasn’t paying attention.
“Huh? He did? What?” Hardison says, and whips around to look at the man. He blinks and doesn’t say anything before he tells Eliot again, “I need to pee.”
“Then fucking pee, stop standing around. Shit,” Eliot tells him, and Hardison nods before heading off into the bathroom.
As fun as this night is (Eliot’s not sure if that’s sarcasm or not yet, but he’s learning towards yes, just because it’s Hardison), he needs to bring the drunk fool home anyway. Eliot’s not sure how long he’s going to be able to stand if he keeps this up.
But it’s taking Hardison an unusually long time to pee, so Eliot stands up, hoping he’s not gonna walk in and see Hardison passed out and drowning in the urinal or something. If he is though, he does have a cell phone. Kodak moment and all. Eliot smirks to himself, now half hoping to see something like that.
But just as he nears the bathroom, Hardison comes out, with said staring-at-ass man behind him. “Baby! There you are!” Hardison tells him with a voice filled with relief, and Eliot makes a face. What the fuck did he just call him?
But it got worse.
Suddenly Hardison’s lips are on his, and he’s pinned up against the narrow corridor wall with Hardison’s body against his. Eliot has half a mind to push him off and deck him square in the jaw, maybe make his head spin around for good measure, but for some reason he doesn’t. It all happened so fast anyway that he didn’t really have time to properly react, because then Hardison is off of him, and he pleads to him in a whisper, “Don’t hit me, and I mean please don’t hit me, seriously, I’ll explain in a minute.”
“You fucking better,” Eliot growls at him. “Come on, we’re leaving.” He needed to get out of there; the alcohol was obviously taking over his brain. If he were sober, he definitely would have slammed the boys face into the ground. If he were sober, he wouldn’t still have the feel of Hardison’s lips on his like he was some woman. If he were sober, this would have never happened.
Fucking liquor.
When they’re out of the bar and into the cool night air, Eliot rounds on him. “What the fuck, Hardison!” His sense was getting back to him now. Hardison just fucking kissed him. A man just kissed him. That was nine shades of fucked up. Damn boy is gay, obviously. Did he not make it clear on his little note card that he was to not be hit on, let alone be… Christ. What the hell.
Hardison puts up his hands in defense and backs up a couple steps. “Hey, hey man, I’m sorry, seriously! You’re the last person I ever… yuck. But that guy was trying to corner me and be all… gay with me! I did the first thing I could think of! Ain’t no one gonna fuck with your property.”
He did have a point there. No one fucks with what’s his. But Hardison isn’t his! He doesn’t want him to be his!
“The first thing you could think of was to kiss me?” Eliot yells at him, furious. “You’re a lying sack, you know that? You are gay!”
“I am not gay!” Hardison yells at him.
“You’re flaming! Fucking flaming gay! Just admit it!”
“I’m NOT!”
“You ARE! You wanted to-”
“FINE!” Hardison screams at him, throwing his hands up a little. “Maybe I am, just a little bit, okay? I don’t know! Are you happy now? Are you?! FUCK YOU, ELIOT!”
Eliot stops, and just stares at him. Hardison’s breathing heavily, eyes narrow as he glares at him like he hates him for making him admit that. Eliot doesn’t know what to say, because maybe somewhere deep down he didn’t really think it was true. This was all one big joke to him because he knows the kid likes Parker, so he couldn’t be gay.
Eliot obviously missed the whole bisexual prospect. But now that’s staring him in the face, and he doesn’t know what to do. He actually feels bad, which he wasn’t expecting either. This was something serious to Hardison and he just… laughed it off. What kind of asshole does that make him? He might not like the kid on most days, but he ain’t gonna be purposely horrible to him when he’s going through something. He ain’t that kind of man.
“Hey… I’m sorry, man,” Eliot tells him, saying the only thing he can think of.
“Just forget it,” Hardison tells him, and starts walking past him and towards the car.
“Hardison, wait. Just fucking wait a second, damnit!” Eliot tells him, and runs up to him and takes him by the shoulder, turning him around. Hardison stares at him, a mixture of anger, self pity, and confusion on his face. It hits Eliot really hard. “Look, you do what you do, okay? I was serious about that part. It don’t matter to me if you are or aren’t. It’s your thing.”
Hardison doesn’t say anything for awhile, and Eliot gives him a little encouraging pat on the shoulder. Support, or whatever. “Don’t tell anyone else,” Hardison tells him softly.
“I won’t.”
CHAPTER THREE
The Picture
Being the only one who knows a secret is like signing yourself up to be a voluntary therapist.
Normally Eliot would let the secret lie, never speak of it again, and advise the other person to do the same. With Hardison though, it was different. This is one thing about having a fucking ‘family’ that gnaws at you: the caring part. The boy is clearly distressed, and leaving him alone in his apartment to contemplate his life or drown himself in a water bucket in front of his guild or whatever the hell it is he was planning on doing, didn’t seem to be the best idea.
“You don’t have to stay,” Hardison tells him as he sits down heavily on his couch and puts his head in his hands.
“You’ll probably drown in your own vomit if I don’t,” Eliot tells him.
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Yeah, well,” Eliot says and sits down on the couch next to him. He ain’t going to say the words, ‘I care, I’m here to help,’ because that just sounds so fucking mushy and he has a reputation to uphold.
Or whatever.
“Really, Eliot, you don’t-”
“Shut up, will ya? I’m here, so just leave it,” Eliot snaps at him. Man, try to give a shit about someone and they try to force your foot out the door anyway.
“Fine,” Hardison says, and leans back, crossing his arms. He’s pouting a bit too, he looks so much like a damn toddler it’s uncanny. “But I ain’t talking about it.”
“Fine,” Eliot says, and grabs the remote. Might as well watch one of the millions of sports channels Hardison has.
“Fine,” Hardison says again, and watches Eliot flip through the channels. There’s maybe about five minutes of silence, probably less though, before Hardison mumbles, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Eliot sighs and flips off the TV. Well, it was worth a shot. He turns to him. “There ain’t nothing wrong with you, there’s a bunch of gay people in the world. Hell, they’re gettin’ married now. So it’s whatever.”
“I ain’t gay, let’s make that perfectly clear in this conversation,” Hardison tells him with a little warning finger. Eliot wants to mock the warning finger, but restrains himself.
“Fine. Bisexual,” Eliot corrects himself.
“Bi… curious,” Hardison starts to agree, then changes it. Eliot rolls his eyes a little. Right, as far as the first step goes, admitting it, he ain’t getting a gold star.
“Same difference.”
“No, it’s not. It’s so not. There is a distinct difference, trust me. With the… distinctness,” Hardison tells him. Eliot wants to smack him on the back of the head, but doubts that will help any. His brain is already pretty rattled.
“You like to look at other guys cocks. Tomato, tomahto, I say,” Eliot tells him bluntly, and Hardison’s eyes go wide.
“I…I never said that I… I mean, I don’t… I…” he starts stuttering, and pointing with that damn finger again. Eliot grabs a hold of it to stop him.
“Dude, you had gay porn, that part spoke loud and clear for itself.”
Hardison doesn’t know what to say to that, and Eliot’s lets go of his finger before he finds out if that game ‘pull my finger’ is actually true. “I like Parker,” Hardison tells him, the first time Eliot thinks he’s ever really voiced that little tidbit outloud, only Eliot’s pretty sure he’s only using it as a defense now.
“I know,” Eliot tells him, and Hardison just stares at him. Eliot stares back, he didn’t really think he was low key about his little attraction did he? I mean, really. But regardless. “And Parker’s got apparently some kinky fetish of two men, so I think you already got it made, personally.”
Hardison groans, “That’s weird.”
“She’s weird,” Eliot corrects. Because she’s the weirdest fucking broad he’s ever known.
“Why I like her,” Hardison tells him softly. “She’s… different.”
“Then shut up about it, and be happy that she doesn’t think that you’re weird,” Eliot tells him. Then a pause. “But you are, just for the record. You’re fucking really weird. Not for this, but just you in general.”
“Thanks.” Sarcasm.
“No problem,” Eliot smirks.
There’s a long silence before Hardison says softly, not looking at him, “I’m sorry I kissed you, man.”
Eliot tenses a little, and he swears it was like a freaking movie in his head as it flashed back to that moment. The details seem to be a bit fuzzy, even though it only happened about an hour ago. All the flash contained was Hardison’s warm body pressed against his, the way he could feel exactly how much Hardison did have abs of steel (though he’ll never admit it to him), his soft lips brushing over his before going in for the kill (and yes, that’s how he’s going to refer to it, because it was like murder), and his breathing… his warm breath that came out in short bursts against his lips from either fear of Eliot hitting him for doing it… or desire, Eliot wasn’t sure. He also isn’t sure why everything seems to be going in slow motion in his head, and why he’s just sitting there, silent, probably looking like fucking Parker, as all this happens again.
“Eliot?”
Eliot blinks and shakes his head a little. Fucking liquor. Fucking… everything. If gay turns out to really be contagious then…
“You’re pissed still, aren’t you?”
“No,” Eliot tells him automatically. “Just… don’t talk about it, okay? Never happened.” God, he is never drinking again. Ever. His alcohol induced haze is making him have… no he’s not even going to say it. Tendencies. He’s not fucking saying the word that’s supposed to go in front of that.
Never. Drinking. Again.
“Alright,” Hardison tells him, and then there’s silence again. Eliot’s starting to feel awkward, a feeling he doesn’t normally get to experience.
But of course, because everything this world has a freaking plan to conspire against them and make everything even more fucked up… the doorbell rings.
Eliot looks at Hardison, and Hardison looks back at him. Then they both look at the door. Who the hell is that?
Hardison doesn’t seem to be moving, so Eliot stands up with a sigh and opens the door. “You know how to use a doorbell?” is out of his mouth in an automatic reaction to the person standing in front of him. But Parker doesn’t say anything, she just holds up a cell phone in his face. Eliot squints from the brightness shining in his eyes before he looks at what’s on it.
Oh, he’s gonna fucking kill her.
“Sophie told me to go, and I went, and I saw, and she said she wanted to proof that Hardison was accepting who he is, or whatever, so she’ll drop it or something, and so I took this, but now I don’t think I wanna show her cause… cause I don’t know why,” Parker lets out all in one breath.
Okay, maybe he won’t kill her. Now.
Hardison comes up behind Eliot and lets out a shriek only reserved for women and ubergeeks (he did not just use the word ‘ubergeek’, what is happening to him?) as he see’s who it is and what she’s holding. More specifically, what she has a picture of.
“Just get inside,” Eliot tells her gruffly as he herds her in with one hand and checks the hallway to see if anyone else has followed. He can’t help it, now Parker’s got him paranoid. When he closes the door, Hardison’s just staring at her with his eyes wide and his mouth open and completely mute.
“Are you gay too?” Parker asks him. It’s worse than that though, she asks it so innocently, almost like a child would, so he can’t find it in him to yell at her for even assuming such a preposterous thing.
Who knew preposterous was even in his vocabulary? Hm. That was new.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Eliot tells her, because it isn’t. It really, really isn’t. He didn’t like it or anything.
…Of course not.
“So you didn’t kiss him?” Parker asks, looking at her cell phone confused of the picture of him and Hardison… god.
“It was just so…” Eliot starts, and then lets out an aggravated sigh. He doesn’t even know how to explain it. “It was to get Hardison out of a situation,” Eliot tells her, then finishes with. “And he kissed me, for the record.” Because that record needs to be known. Noted and fucking filed. With a damn official seal.
Parker rounds on Hardison, who’s still catching flies. But she smiles at him, in that weird little way that she does that apparently makes Hardison feel a little better, because he closes his mouth. “I like that you like boys,” Parker tells him with a little nod.
But of course, that isn’t the end of it.
“Can you kiss Eliot again?”
“NO!” both Hardison and Eliot yell automatically, and Parker jumps a little bit from the force of it. Then she pouts.
“Parker,” Eliot tells her, his patience being tested now. Of all the people to know, why Parker? “This isn’t some kind of fucking game.”
“I know that,” she tells him seriously, and almost offended that Eliot questioned it.
“This is serious for Hardison.”
“I know that.”
“And he doesn’t want anyone to know yet, so just… leave it, alright?” Eliot tells her, hoping for once she’ll fucking get it.
When the hell did he become ‘the great Hardison defender’?
But the next thing out of Parker’s mouth isn’t to Eliot, it’s to Hardison. She goes up to him slowly and peers at him. “Do you want me to forget?” she asks him, like it’s something horrible. Like she doesn’t like that she’s not allowed to be in on the secret.
“I…” Hardison starts to say, but doesn’t seem to know what to really say to her. Eliot actually feels bad for him, having Parker know is probably not one of the things high on his priorities list for a variety of reasons. “Just please…. damn Parker, and I’m serious, please don’t tell anyone. And don’t… I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just leave it, like Eliot said.”
Parker looks at him, that pout still evident at the corner of her lips. “But… aren’t I your friend?”
“Yeah girl, but-”
“Then why does Eliot get to talk about it but I don’t?” Parker asks, not understanding. Shit, this doesn’t look good. Eliot thinks they actually just hurt her feelings. Before this he was ninety seven percent sure that the aliens took those away from her when she was abducted.
Okay, that was a little weird, even for him. Once again: fucking liquor. Or maybe fucking Hardison, since he’s always the one going on about aliens in Doctor-
Fucking Hardison.
GOD DAMNIT. LIQUOR! What the fuck is wrong with his brain?! Gay is completely contagious, obviously. Eliot backs up a few steps for good measure. There’s obviously got the be a distance factor involved.
“Parker you’re… you’re different,” Hardison tries to explain, but he’s frustrated and upset and he’s not doing a very good job, and Parker clearly still doesn’t understand.
“I know I’m different, everyone always tells me that. I know I’m not… like,” she waves her hand at the two of them, and he last part come out in a softer voice, maybe even a bit sad, “Normal.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Hardison tells her, just bursts out in his frustration. He obviously can’t think of any other way to rectify the situation, so the truth seemed to win out, whether he wanted it to or not, “You’re different because I like you!”
Parker stops. Then she’s blinking, staring. “Oh,” she says softly. Eliot thinks this conversation is entirely too awkward for his presence, and wants to leave, but Parker’s blocking the door. “Um,” she says, obviously not knowing how to deal with this piece of conversation. Hardison’s just standing there, looking at her, looking like he may shatter into a million pieces if she just walks away.
“I, um,” Parker says, and shifts on her feet. She folds her arms into herself and looks down at the ground as she shuffles a bit, before looking back up at him. “Locks,” she tells him. One word. One damn word that makes no freaking sense to Eliot.
“I know,” Hardison tells her, and lets out a breath, relieved she didn’t run. What the hell? Does Parker and him some kind of secret language now? Eliot feels left out, something he doesn’t think he’s experienced much either. What is it with him lately?
“The picking, it’s not-”
“I know,” Hardison tells her again. “But that’s why… why it’s different, okay? I can’t… just not now.”
Parker purses her lips and nods. There’s silence for awhile before she tells him softly, “I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.” Hardison nods, grateful.
Eliot still wants to know what the hell locks have to do with anything.
A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates. My Mac up and went and had a spaz, so I had to go buy a new computer... and then I made the mistake of downloading World of Warcraft and that completely sucked my soul. SO. Yeah, sorry. Ha. And by the way, if this ends up turning into a Eliot/Parker/Hardison, its not my fault -shifty-
CHAPTER FOUR
The Issue
They never met clients together. Not all of them, anyway. Always Nate, most of the time with Sophie, and that one disaster with Parker. That should have tipped him off right then, but Eliot was just looking for something to do to get his mind off of everything with Hardison. Sobering up obviously didn’t seem to fix whatever damn issue he was having right now. Not Hardison’s issue, Eliot’s. Eliot had an issue. Eliot had a big fucking issue.
But he’s not ready to admit that issue, even in his head. So he’s just going to leave it at that: an issue. He blames his brain, and his near photographic memory that seemed to cater to his sense of touch more than his good sense.
Whatever. They had a client, and he needed a beer.
When he got to McRory’s, Nate and Sophie were sitting at a booth next to each other with Parker looking incredibly uncomfortable across from them. She was fidgeting, picking at her clothes, and couldn’t seem to sit still. Eliot knitted his eyebrows together as he approached them, sliding in next to Parker.
“Ain’t here yet?” Stating the obvious, but Parker was making his skin crawl with nervousness. He hated when she was acting weird, he wasn’t sure why. She seemed to have this uncanny ability to have it effect other people, and right now he was getting it full force. “Stop fidgeting,” he grumbles under his breath to her.
“I have to move,” she tells him. Damn, watch the girl have ADD now on top of all her other issues.
“Client’s running a little late,” Nate tells him. His voice has this weird pitch, right before he shifts his eyes over to Sophie.
Oh no.
Eliot starts to get up, knowing exactly what this is, mumbling something about needing a beer, but gets pushed back into the booth and trapped by Hardison unknowingly walking directly into the lion’s mouth. Or the hand where Sophie has a firm grip on Nate’s balls. Either way.
“Thought I’d be late,” Hardison says as he looks around the bar, double checking that he in fact wasn’t late, and not that their client is just in the bathroom or something. “So who’re we dealing with?”
Eliot wanted out of this booth. Being trapped between Hardison and Parker and what’s about to happen didn’t seem like a great place to be. Especially because with the way Parker was acting, he’s afraid that Sophie somehow got her hands on that picture. Parker said she would delete it, but it was Parker. You just never know.
It was making his chest tight, and his throat dry, and all he wanted was a fucking beer and he felt trapped. He hated feeling trapped. It made him want to hit something.
“Running a bit late,” Sophie tells him, with a smile as she lies to his face. Eliot knows there isn’t any client. Why didn’t he put two and two together before is beyond him. He’s been way too distracted lately, always in his head with his… issues. Damn fucking issues.
“But while we’re waiting...” Sophie continues. Nate starts to look uncomfortable, Parker starts to fidget more. Yup, here we go. “How did the bar go?”
Eliot can feel Hardison tense next to him. Eliot tries to keep himself relaxed, but it’s proving difficult. He decides that keeping his eyes focused on something other than the people at this table seemed like a better way to go. The beer seemed like a great thing to look at, if only he could get to it.
“Fine,” Hardison says in a flat voice, trying to end that conversation, but of course with Sophie… nothing is ever really ended.
“I heard it didn’t go so well,” Sophie tells him in this sympathetic voice, which actually makes Eliot be able to look at her. If she thinks it didn’t go well, than that means she doesn’t know that he was involved in Hardison’s… road to gayness, or whatever. Not that he was actually involved with that road. That’s not what he means. He was just there. And got kissed due to a wrong place wrong time situation.
Or whatever. Fuck.
“It went fine,” Hardison tells her in this low, dangerous voice with his eyes narrowed. “Look, can you just… drop it, okay?” he looks around, obviously not comfortable discussing this in a public place. Eliot couldn’t blame him.
“Hardison, we’re all here to help you,” Sophie tells him patiently.
“There is no client, is there?” Hardison exclaims, finally catching on, and moves to get up. Yup, good move.
But he doesn’t get all the way out of the booth before Sophie pulls out the one card no one saw coming. “No Hardison, please don’t leave. I’m sorry.”
That made everyone stop and just stare at her. Hardison was even half out of his seat, hovering in mid air. Sophie never apologized, at least not out right and fully. She’d rather choke on her own vomit than admit she made a mistake.
Which is why Eliot is pretty sure she only did it because she knew it would make him stop. And it worked, the manipulative bitch. Eliot maybe admires that. Just a little. It’s evil, but it’s damn useful.
Unfortunately it also blocked the path from the booth from hell, to the alcohol.
“You’re what?” Hardison asks, wondering if he heard her right.
“I just…” Sophie starts, and her eyes shift. She’s avoiding saying it again, something Eliot does actually find believable. “I was just trying to help, but if you…” a heavy sigh then a mumbled, “Nevermind.”
Now she’s playing the guilt card. Man, two different cards in under two minutes? She just doesn’t give up. Why Hardison isn’t seeing through this, he has no idea.
Eliot looks over at the bar longingly, but instead of his eyes landing on the taps (which was what he was going for), his eyes land on the ass of a sexy blonde leaning over the bar as she orders a drink. Nice. But now he wanted to get up even more.
He needs to end this conversation now.
“Sophie, I’m fine,” Hardison stresses, wanting to end the conversation too. He was fidgeting now, looking a lot like Parker. In fact, she’s been awful quiet. That’s not like her…
“Look, I’ll take him to a club or something,” Eliot tells all of them, while still staring at the girl’s ass at the bar. He didn’t have to be looking at them to know that everyone just stopped and is now staring at him.
“What?” Nate asks, the first thing he’s said since they all sat down.
“Really, Eliot?” Sophie says in this… god awful annoying tone. Like she thinks it’s sweet or something ridiculous like that. He just wanted to get Sophie off of his back.
And stop these meetings. Mainly stopping the meetings. Yeah…
“Dude, I don’t think I wanna-”
“Shut up, Hardison. Conversation over, now move,” Eliot tells him. Hardison sputters a little, but with a little push he’s out of the booth and Eliot’s free.
He’s not going to dwell on the fact that he just offered to go to a gay club. He’s not. There’s a hot blonde over there, beer calling and… oh, she’s finally turning around. Get a good look at what he’s gonna be working with later…
He thinks he just choked on his own breath.
Parker turns and smiles at him, holding up a beer to him. He kind of wants to bang his head against something heavy, since maybe it’ll make his brain work right for once. How the hell did she get out of the…? Actually no, that’s not what the problem is. Parker’s always disappearing and appearing randomly. The problem was that he was just staring at her ass for a good ten minutes. He was staring at Parker’s ass. The world really has turned upside down.
There is something seriously wrong with him. He now has more issues than he can even count. Her ass? SERIOUSLY? Parker?!
“Here,” she says, and hands the beer to him. “You were staring at it earlier.”
He just blinks at her, takes it, and walks away. He needed to get out there. You were staring at it earlier. Yeah, he was. But not the beer. Fuck, he has a migrane. He needs to go to a different bar, watch the game, and just… not think.
That sounds like a good, solid plan.
Then again, anything that doesn’t involve being around Sophie and her pet Nate, staring at Parker’s ass, or thinking about Hardison, seemed like an excellent plan in his book anyway.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Pinky Swear
“Do I look okay?”
Eliot cocks an eyebrow in Hardison’s direction, who’s busy in front of the mirror, trying to smooth out his nonexistent hair and turning around a bit to try to look at himself from all sides. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize you were gay earlier,” Eliot tells him, commenting on his behavior. Hardison turns around and glares at him.
“Hey, I’m not- whatever, shut up. I’m just trying to… you know what? Just go play with your hair or something,” Hardison tells him, frustrated, and turns back around towards the mirror.
Eliot smirked, but absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair, just in case it was mussed up or something. A little muss is good; a lot makes it look like he doesn’t own a brush. Which he does. He owns a couple, as a matter of fact.
“How much do you think I should cut off?”
Eliot turns and see’s Parker in the threshold of the doorway, scissors in hand. Oh no.
“DON’T CUT YOUR HAIR!” Both Eliot and Hardison yell at the same time, and Parker blinks and looks confused at the sudden outburst.
“But how am I supposed to attract the lesbians if I don’t?”
“Parker,” Eliot sighs, and rubs his temples. God, this woman. “You’re not going, and even if you were you don’t-why the hell would you wanna attract lesbians anyway?”
“Because you both are bisexual, so I wanted to find out if I am too,” Parker tells them both with a little smile, a little nod.
Eliot’s head fucking exploded.
“I am NOT bisexual! That’s him!” Eliot shouts, pointing at the offending man in the doorway of the bathroom, who flipped him off, but looked more amused with the situation than Eliot would allow.
“Defensive, aren’t we?” Hardison chuckles. Eliot narrows his eyes, giving him a glare that most people would run screaming from. Hardison however, just widened his smirk. God, that man’s such a fucking bastard.
“You kissed him,” Parker tells him as she walks past Hardison and looks at herself in the mirror as she raises the scissors to her hair. Hardison swipes the offending object in the nick of time, and Parker pouts.
“He kissed me,” Eliot growls, then bursts out, “And you’re not going, so I don’t know why you’re trying to get all… butch.”
“I have to go, I have to get proof. Sophie says so,” Parker tells him, then stares at her attire as she picks at her shirt before turning around to Hardison, “Can I borrow some of your clothes? Lesbians wear guy’s clothes, right?”
“Sure,” Hardison tells her, and Eliot throws up his hands at him like “what the hell, man?” and Hardison just shrugs as Parker goes into Hardison’s bedroom to find a lesbian costume, or whatever it is that she’s trying to do.
“This is fucking ridiculous.”
“It was your idea,” Hardison tells him, and then smirks before mocking, “Something you’re not telling us, Eliot?”
“Fuck off, man. Only reason I said I’d bring you was to get Sophie off of your back, so you’re welcome.”
“It’s still pointless, Sophie ain’t gonna be off my back till she has ‘proof’, and I’m not… I’m so not making out with some random dude,” Hardison tells him. He’s right though, she won’t, so Eliot has no idea how the hell they’re going to get that without…
“You made out with Eliot,” Parker interjects as she comes back into the room, and then asks without missing a beat, “Do I look like a lesbian?”
“Photoshop!”
“What?” Hardison asks, looking between them both confused. He focuses on Parker and gives her the thumbs up, even though Parker didn’t really look a lesbian at all. In fact, putting her in an oversized button down undershirt made her somehow look even hotter, which Eliot wishes he didn’t admit in his head. Both Hardison and Eliot dismissed her makeout comment. They just… didn’t want to think about that. Ever. Again.
Ever.
“Photoshop!” Hardison cries out, finally getting what Eliot was talking about. “I can manipulate the picture! That’s freaking genius, Eliot!”
Eliot smirks. Well, it is what it is. Or rather, he is what he is.
“Wait… I need a picture of me making out with someone first,” Hardison says, then slumps onto the couch dejectedly.
“Why?” Eliot asks. If he had the picture, he wouldn’t have to manipulate it, isn’t that the point? Then again, the only thing he knows how to do on Photoshop is like… draw with a pencil. And erase it. Sometimes smudge it. That damn programs confusing.
“For it to look seamless I’ll have to use a picture of me making out with someone, and then I’ll have to basically…” he looks at Eliot, knowing he’d have to explain this in simple terms. “I’d have to cut it out and paste it onto a picture with a guy and… you know, mess with it a little, or a lot, whatever, until it looks good. You can’t start with nothing.”
Oh. Well, shit. Well-hang on wait a minute… “You don’t have any pictures of you making out with chicks?” Doesn’t everyone have those?
“Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to parade around my women.”
“At least I have women to parade around,” Eliot retorts back. Hardison scoffs.
“Make out with Eliot again,” Parker tells Hardison, and both Hardison and Eliot stop griping and turn to look at her.
“NO!”
Parker narrows her eyes, then puts her hands on her hips. “Well if you didn’t make me delete the other one you already would have a picture.”
“You make out with Hardison,” Eliot tells her. “And I’ll take the picture.”
“I can’t,” Parker tells him, like he should know that. Like it’s obvious. Poor Hardison looked like Christmas had come early only to find out the Grinch stole it, all in a matter of thirty seconds.
“Why not?” Eliot asks her.
“Because I’m a lesbian today, obviously,” Parker tells him, and swipes her hands down her form to indicate her little costume.
“And I’m straight every day!” Eliot yells at her, his temper rising. He is not kissing Hardison, not again. Fuck that!
“You’re not a lesbian,” Hardison tells her. Maybe a bit too hopefully.
“How would you know? I don’t even know. That’s why we were going to go to the club.” A pause. “We’re still going right?”
“Not if I get that picture,” Hardison tells her.
“Fine, then no picture,” Parker tells him, like that’s final, and grabs her coat and starts walking towards the door.
What the fuck?
Eliot would much rather Parker just stick her tongue down Hardison’s throat for two damn seconds then actually have to go to that club. “Damnit, Parker! Just kiss him already!”
Parker whipped around, “You kiss him!”
Hardison raised his hand, “Do I get a vote in this?” But both Parker and Eliot ignore him, both squaring off and glaring at each other.
“You just wanna get off on it,” Eliot tells her forcefully, his temper rising. Because what the hell, right? Obviously the little perv just wants to see it again, her and her twisted little fantasies.
“I’m trying to help Hardison!”
“You can help him by kissing him!” Eliot yells back. This woman is damn frustrating! Crazy fucking…
“BUT I’M A LESBIAN TODAY!”
“Parker, you’re not a fucking-!”
“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!” Hardison screams, which makes both of them stop and look at him. “God, ya’ll aren’t helping. Rather not be here while you both fight over how horrible it is to kiss me. Rather fucking just… you know what? Just get out of my house, I’ll deal with Sophie on my own,” Hardison tells them, and storms into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Shit.
“This is your fault,” Eliot tells her. Because it is.
Parker looks halfway between furious and upset, and her eyes flicker to Hardison’s closed bedroom door. “Na uh,” she says, but its quiet. Crap, she is really upset. What the hell, why does this always happen? Why does he even care?
“Why won’t you just kiss him?” Eliot asks her, but it isn’t accusing, more soft. Curious.
“Because I…” Parker starts, and then stops. She purses her lips. “Nevermind.” She shuffles her feet a little.
“The lock thing, whatever that was?” Eliot asks her.
“No… well yeah, no.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” Talking to this woman needs to come with a deciphering code. Parker mumbles something, and Eliot raises his eyebrows. “What?” Parker mumbles something again, but Eliot still doesn’t hear it so he says, “Parker, just spit it out already.”
“I like him, okay?! There’s the butterflies, and the feelings, and the bounciness and the key but it’s not ready yet!” Parker yells this time, and looks absolutely furious with Eliot for making her admit that… whatever that just was. He only understood about half of it. She crosses her arms over her chest, defensive, and tells him, “Just leave me alone.”
And now Parker’s trying to walk away. God damnit, this whole damn team is just so fucking dysfunctional.
“Parker, hold on,” Eliot calls after her, but she doesn’t stop. Eliot walks up to her and puts a hand on her shoulder, but it must have triggered some sort of reflex Parker has when she feels exposed and she turns, fury written all over her face as she tries to hit him. Eliot only barely caught her wrist and managed to divert it away from his face. “Hey! Whoa, slow down! Parker, chill, it’s me!”
Parker yanks her wrist out of his grip and just glares at him. “Hey darlin’ come on… relax. I ain’t gonna tell him or anything. Not if you ain’t ready.”
That makes Parker be able to breathe a little better, and her glare falters a bit. But it’s back up and she demands, “Pinky swear.”
Pinky…? Oh, for the love of shit.
Eliot sighs in defeat and puts up his pinky. What is he, five now? “Pinky swear.” Parker looks apprehensive for a moment before she takes his pinky with her own and shakes it firmly. Then she relaxes.
There’s silence for a moment as they both turn and look at Hardison’s door. “I’ll give you five grand if you kiss him,” Parker tells him softly.
“That’s chump change,” Eliot tells her evenly.
“Better than nothing, and you know you’re gonna have to. I can’t.”
This is hell.
Seriously, his fucking life should have a welcome sign that says “Welcome to Hell, please enjoy your stay. The beers free, and so are the men.”
Men. This is why this is hell.
Actually, what made it hell is that he knows that Parker’s right. The only reason she’s right though is because if he suggests that she be the one that kisses Hardison again she might try to rip off his pinky next time. He already can’t believe he calmed her down that fast; the girls got some violent anger issues. And if she can’t kiss him, who’s left? Him. Fucking… him.
He really doesn’t want to do this.
And it’s not even kissing a man bit. That should bother him, yes. But how hard is it to just picture Angelina Jolie in his head while he’s doing it? Not very hard. He’s done that with some of the less picture perfect women he’s slept with. No, the problem was that it was Hardison, and he sees him, everyday. The problem is that it’s Hardison, and he apparently likes men. The problem is this: what if Hardison starts getting used to kissing him? What if he starts to think…?
Damnit.
Eliot feels backed into a wall, like some kind of trapped animal in the third dimension of sexual hell.
Okay, he drifted a bit there.
But he takes a deep breath, and mentally prepares Angelina Jolie naked in his head. Okay, he can do this. He’s man enough to do this. “Get your phone ready to take the picture. Just… follow me, okay?”
“You’re gonna do it?” Parker asks, like she can’t actually believe he agreed to it.
“Just shut up and be ready, okay?” Eliot tells her, just wanting her to be quiet about it. He doesn’t need it said outloud.
And then he’s off, striding through the living room and opening up Hardison’s door. Hardison turns around in surprise and anger and starts, “Eliot, I thought I said-”
“Shut up and just go with it,” Eliot tells him gruffly as he grabs his shirt, pushes him against the smooth surface of his bedroom wall and crashes his lips to his.
Damnit.
Hardison mumbles something that sounds like surprised shock against Eliot’s lips, but Eliot focuses on Angelina naked and uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Suddenly Hardison relaxes, and Eliot can feel him grab his hip and dig his fingers in a bit as a sound that somewhat resembles the most horrifying noise in the world - a moan - escapes his lips.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
Angelina was gone, floated away into damn nothingness and all he could think about was Hardison, and how he did kiss surprisingly well, and how part of him didn’t want to stop. He tried, he tried to pull away. That was it; Parker must have gotten the picture by now. But he didn’t stop. It terrified him to like the way Hardison was grabbing onto him, it fucking terrified him to realize he just nipped at the younger man’s bottom lip, and it terrified him that… that it was starting to make him hard.
“Okay, I uh… I… got it,” Parker tells the two men in this weird tone, and that jerked Eliot out of his haze as he stumbled back away from Hardison, both of them breathing a little heavily. They both just stared at each other, chests heaving, looking at each other like they both had no idea what had just happened. Eliot took a couple more steps back for good measure.
“That was sexy,” Parker breathes, looking at both of them. That makes both of them look at her, and then back at each other.
“I gotta get home,” Eliot tells him, his brain screaming at him and giving him a headache. He felt hazy, his senses were all fucked up, and he just needed to get the hell out of there.
“Yeah… I uh, I guess we got what we needed,” Hardison tells him awkwardly, and then looks over at Parker, who was staring at the picture on her phone in the most disturbing way.
“Good cause I gotta…” Eliot says, backing up.
“Yeah….”
“Right,” Eliot finishes, and gets the hell outta dodge.
What. The. Hell. Just. Happened?
TOO BIG, LIKE ALWAYS
PART TWO IS HERE.
Author: Sapphire Smoke cuzimastripper
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG-13 (for now - but god knows most of my shit ends up being adult after awhile)
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison (hints of OT3)
Length Thus Far: 10,029 words
Summery: Sophie's been in the habit of holding interventions ever since the one with Nate, and this time Hardison is her next victim.
A/N: I don't know where the hell this came from, and it's probably really ridiculous lol. And dear god, now I'm writing multichapter slash. My poor femslash readers are preparing for the end of the world, I'm sure.
CHAPTER ONE
The Magazine
The use of interventions between the team started when Nate was an alcoholic jackass. It was Sophie’s idea - of course - because she likes to solve other people’s problems without taking five friggin seconds to glance at all of her own fucked up issues. But the interventions didn’t stop with Nate. Two months later, Sophie decided that everyone should hold one for Parker “to focus on her attachment issues.” Which basically, when it came down to it, was about her borderline disturbing obsession with money.
That intervention was one for the books, with Parker getting upset, really upset (which was a bitch to watch just because it was Parker, and the girl never shows any other emotion rather than blatant nonchalance and a complete lack of empathy). Eliot wouldn’t say it worked exactly, but she did stop petting it and talking to it in that creepy way that some adults sometimes feel the need to talk to babies with. Eliot’s pretty sure she was dropped on her head as a small child. Multiple times.
Sophie considers the intervention a success, however. Eliot considers it a waste of time.
The next one, or rather the current one, the one that’s making them all stand in Nate’s apartment with freaking little note cards that they all have to read off of right now, is with Hardison. While normally Eliot would go tell Sophie where she needs to stick her note card while having a nice long look at herself in the process, this one was way too good to pass up.
It all started because Parker was snooping in Hardison’s sock drawer. She just does that, snooping, being all up in everyone’s personal space without having a half a clue of how annoying she’s being. After the vibrator fiasco with Sophie (which, if Eliot is to be honest, was possibly the best day of his life - or at least the damn funniest), Eliot decided to start hiding what he didn’t want Parker to see in a storage facility. He figured everyone else would get the hint and try to do the same, seeing as putting a lock on anything is useless when it comes to Parker, and no matter how many times Sophie sits her down and tries to explain what privacy means, she still doesn’t get it.
But Hardison apparently did not take the vibrator incident as a warning, because here they all are.
The door opens to Nate’s apartment, and as soon as Hardison sees everyone standing there in a line with their little note cards, he stops dead. Eliot smirks. Damn, he can’t wait for this one.
“Ya’ll can’t be serious,” Hardison says, looking at each one of them, a look of disbelief on his face. “Are you about to bitch about how much time I spend online? Because let me remind you, it’s what I do. You take away my baby, you take away your hacker. Baby, hacker. Comprende?”
“Hardison, please sit down,” Sophie tells him gently, like she’s trying to be all motherly or some other crap that Eliot finds to be entirely too frightening. “This isn’t about your computer, and it’s more of a… well, we’re trying to help you with this, not stop it. Because there is nothing wrong with it, okay? There is nothing wrong with it,” Sophie stresses again, trying to make a point. Eliot smirks more. This is going to be so fucking funny.
Hardison’s looking at them all suspiciously, and he slowly closes the door behind him and makes his way over to the chair designated for him. “Alright…” he says slowly. “Ya’ll lost me. Is this about internet porn? Cause Eliot’s got mo-”
“Have you been in my computer?” Eliot asks, accusingly. What the hell? Man can’t even jack off without the little perv wanting to know what he’s doing it to.
“This isn’t about your internet porn, we checked that,” Sophie tells him, and Hardison’s eyebrows raise.
“You… what now?”
“I like porn,” Parker says with a little smile, just trying to put in her two cents. Everyone ignores her. Well, everyone except for Eliot, who’s now looking at her like she might actually be part human after all.
“This was Sophie’s idea,” Nate tells him, just trying to get the blame off of himself. He never wants to be at any of these either. But he bends over backwards for that freaking women more often than not recently. Like the damn tables have turned.
“Well, we found - or rather Parker found, this,” Sophie pulls out a magazine from behind her back and shows it too him. Hardison’s eyes go wide. “In your sock drawer. And Hardison, we just want you to know, that whatever you’re going through, if you’re experimenting or curious, we’re all with you one hundred percent, and support any decision you come to.”
Hardison just keeps staring at her.
“It’s okay if you think you might be gay, or bisexual. You know now it’s not really that big of a-” But Sophie’s cut off now, Hardison finding his voice.
“Alright, first of all, you,” he points to Parker, “Are never allowed in my house again. Ever. And second of all, that,” he waves his finger dramatically at the offending magazine, “Was for research.”
“What the hell kind of research makes you need to look at some guys dick up another guys ass?” Eliot asks.
“Eliot!” Sophie scolds, and hits him with the back of her hand. He growls at her. Just cause he ain’t hitting a defenseless girl, doesn’t mean he gets to be abused.
“It was for a Doctor/Master slash fic that I- actually, you know what? Ya’ll are crazy. Damn psycho with a side of nuts. Ya’ll need to get the hell out of my private life,” Hardison tells them, anger in his voice now. He gets up and snatches the magazine out of Sophie’s hand, and heads towards the door.
“Eliot,” Sophie says, and Eliot rolls his eyes. This is the part he always has to do - prevent the person from leaving. So he stands in front of the door, and Hardison stops.
“Move.”
“Just sit the fuck back down, Hardison. Let Sophie have her five minutes of her caring about someone other than herself so she can sleep better at night,” Eliot tells him, and Hardison looks at him like he’d like to rip him apart with his bare hands, but knows he could never take him, so he was pretty frustrated over it.
“Hey, that’s not why-” Sophie starts, but Parker interrupts.
“I liked the magazine, Hardison,” she tells him with a smile. Eliot isn’t sure if he wants to know if she’s just trying to be helpful, or whether she actually enjoyed it in the manner it’s supposed to be taken.
“Jesus Christ,” Hardison says, just fed up, and stalks back over to the chair and flops down in it. “Get this over with.”
Sophie smiles, happy with her small victory. “Now, we all have some things to say to you. And since I already said what I had to say, Nate, why don’t you go first?”
“Me?” Nate asks, who turns back to her from looking out of the window. Eliot’s pretty sure he was trying to plan an escape route. “Why me? Have Eliot go first.”
“Just do it, Nathan,” Sophie tells him sternly, using his full name like that’s supposed to have some kind of effect.
Obviously it does. The man has no balls.
Nate sighs and looks down at his card. He coughs kind of awkwardly before starting, “Hardison, if you’re gay, that’s fine with me.” Then silence. Sophie looks annoyed.
“That’s all you wrote?”
“All I could think of,” Nate tells her, and she makes this frustrated sound before turning to Parker. “Parker, it’s your turn.”
Why she thought Parker’s would be any better, Eliot has no idea.
She picks up her card, peering at it closely, and says in this dead monotonic voice, “Hardison, if you get a boyfriend, I think it would cool.” A pause. “Oh, and I want to know if I could ever watch.”
Eliot almost choked. Okay, maybe Parker did like the magazine in the way it was intended. Hardison just stares at her like she has five heads.
“Parker!” Sophie scolds. “That… that… okay, none of us wanted to know that.”
“You said write something supportive, isn’t that supportive?” Parker asks her, and Eliot smirks. Yup, this was definitely the most entertaining intervention ever.
Sophie sighs and waves her hand, “Eliot.”
Eliot reads off his card, “I don’t give a shit what you do, just don’t hit on me and we’re square.”
“Oh for the love of-” Sophie starts to say, past the point of frustrated herself now.
Hardison just cocked an eyebrow at him. “Cocky bastard, much? Even if I did like guys - which I ain’t saying I do - you ain’t my type.”
“I’m everyone’s type,” Eliot tells him. Because he is. He so is. I mean, look at him. He’s fucking fabulous.
Sophie sighs, “Alright, now that we’ve all had our say… or whatever the bloody hell that rubbish was supposed to pass as, this is how we’re going to help you.”
“I don’t need any-” Hardison starts to say, but is interrupted.
“We think, well, I think, that you should go to a gay bar. Try out the lifestyle a little, so you can make a more comfortable decision,” Sophie tells him. Eliot didn’t know about this part, and apparently neither did anyone else, since everyone’s looking at her. Sophie always decided the best way to ‘help’, or whatever the fuck she’s trying to look like she’s doing.
“I ain’t going to no-”
“Eliot will go with you, so you don’t have to be alone,” Sophie finishes, and Eliot’s eyebrows raise.
“What? No! Make Nate go!”
“Eliot, we’re being supportive, and Nate frankly should not be anywhere near a bar,” Sophie tells him, and Nate looks like he just won the damn lottery with that statement.
“He lives above a fucking bar!” Eliot bursts out, annoyed now. Why the hell does he have to go? It ain’t the gay thing, he doesn’t care about that. He’s secure enough in his sexuality to do all that, but spending time with Hardison? Like outside of work? Hell and no.
“I ain’t-” Hardison tries to say again, but he can’t ever get a sentence out anymore.
“Yes, you are. Both of you are. Eliot, Hardison is your friend, you need to be supportive and help him on this journey.” Eliot thinks the word friend is stretching it a bit far, but fuck it. One night, it won’t kill him. Hopefully. And Sophie will shut the fuck up for awhile, which is always a nice bonus.
“Fine, whatever,” Eliot says, crossing his arms over his chest. He still doesn’t like the plan.
“I don’t wanna-”
“Oh, just shut up, Hardison. You’re fucking going,” Eliot tells him. He ain’t dragging this shit out longer than it needs to be.
But with this intervention done, three down, one to go… Eliot already knows he’s going to be Sophie’s next victim. He has a feeling it’ll be about his hair, or something equally as stupid. The girl seriously needs therapy instead of trying to play the therapist.
And he ain’t cutting his hair. Ever.
Just for the record.
CHAPTER TWO
The Outburst
“Hold my hand.”
“What? No, hell no.”
Eliot watches as Hardison sighs in annoyance and shifts on his feet, looking up at the sign above the gay bar they were supposed to enter. “Dude, I don’t wanna go in there and be hit on!”
“Ain’t no one gonna hit on you, Hardison. You ain’t that pretty,” Eliot tells him with a scowl. He is not going to hold his hand and pretend to be his boy toy or something just to give Hardison piece of mind. No fucking way.
“I’ll have you know, I have abs of steel. Everyone thinks I’m sexy,” Hardison tells him with a cocked eyebrow and some attitude. Eliot snorts.
“Right, that’s why you have so many dates. When’s the last time you got laid, again?”
Hardison glares at him. Eliot sighs, they need to get this friggin night over with. “Just come on,” he tells him. “Least we can get a damn drink.”
Eliot starts to walk into the bar, Hardison behind him mumbling, “Great, yeah, just what I need. To be drunk in a gay bar around a bunch of other drunk gay guys that are gonna try to pick me up. Great.”
“Oh shut up, will you?” Eliot tells him, making his way to the bar. “If anyone’s gonna attempt to pick up one of us, they’re gonna try me, not you.” Not that he wants that to happen or anything, but it’s just common knowledge. It wouldn’t be the first time a gay guy hit on him, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.
He slides onto one of the bar stools, Hardison grudgingly sitting beside him. “Whiskey,” he tells the bartender who comes over to him, flashing him a dazzling smile. “On the rocks.”
The bartender smiles and starts pouring his drink. When he slides it over to Eliot he tells him, “No charge,” with a little wink. See? What did he say? He might not be gay, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to work it with… whoever.
“You’re intolerable,” Hardison tells him.
“What?” Eliot says and takes a sip of his drink. Whiskey was definitely hitting the spot right about now. “It ain’t my fault I’m pretty.”
“Aren’t you all supposed to be here helping me ‘come out’ or whatever?” Hardison tells him with a slight mock in his voice and the use of very annoying finger quotes.
“So you admit it then?”
“No!” Hardison exclaims. “Just you know, if I was - and I ain’t saying I am - kinda rude to take all the guys for yourself.”
“Jesus Christ, Hardison. I ain’t picking up no guy, just getting a free drink. Now shut up and order one for yourself,” Eliot tells him. But Hardison just stares at him, so Eliot waves the bartender over. “A whiskey for my friend here.”
“I don’t drink whiskey,” Hardison tells him.
“You do now.”
“Have I mentioned you’re intolerable?”
“Twice now,” Eliot tells him, and slides the shot over to Hardison. “Now drink up. We’re gonna have to stay here for at least an hour to make Sophie shut up about it.”
“How’s she gonna know if we just… go?” Hardison asks, in this pathetic hopeful voice. But he should know better. Sophie’s got her ways.
“Drink your shot,” Eliot orders, pointing at it. Hardison flashes his eyes at him but picks it and brings it to his lips. He makes a face and Eliot waves his finger some more, before Hardison downs it and makes a face like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world. Eliot smirks. “And do you remember Parker’s intervention? Bitch put fucking cameras everywhere to see if she was acting weird with the money.”
“She didn’t know what bar we were going to, how the hell did she put up cameras?” Hardison asks, and now his paranoid ass is looking around for them anywhere his eyes can see.
“My guess? She got Parker to follow us, girls like a freaking ninja when it comes to not wanting to be seen. Sophie don’t do any dirty work herself,” Eliot tells him, and taps his hand on the bar to get the bartenders attention. He holds up two fingers and points to him and Hardison. Another round.
“She’d be a woman in a bar full of men, how hard would it be to find her?” Hardison asks, but doesn’t look convinced about what he’s saying because now his eyes are scanning the room for a certain blonde.
“Just leave it, man. Here,” Eliot tells him, sliding him another shot and raising his up. “Just drink up, forty five more minutes. Just stop acting like a fucking spaz.” Hardison looks at the shot like it’s something offensive, and glances back up at Eliot. Eliot narrows his eyes and motions to it. He ain’t holding up his fucking glass for no reason.
“You ain’t my daddy,” Hardison tells him, like that’s supposed to mean he can’t make him do things. But of course he can.
“Drink the damn shot or I’m gonna tell Sophie you implied you wanted me to be your ‘Daddy’,” Eliot tells him with a smirk. Okay, maybe that was blackmail, but the look on Hardison’s face was too damn priceless to pass up.
“I hate you,” Hardison tells him, but picks up his shot glass and clinks it together with Eliot’s before they both take them. Hardison gags a little bit.
“Man up,” Eliot tells him, but he’s still smirking. Maybe going out with Hardison wasn’t so bad. He gets to torture him a little at least, and that’s always fun.
Four shots later, Eliot decides to let Hardison rest. It’s starting to become clear his tolerance is not as high as his is. Eliot’s a bit buzzed, sure, but Hardison… Hardison was a bit drunk now. Which would be amusing in any other circumstance, but it was funnier in here.
“Dude, that guy just looked at my ass,” Hardison tells him in a whisper, getting close to him so he could keep his voice down.
“Hardison, you’re sitting down,” Eliot tells him with a smirk.
“I am? I mean I am. I knew that. But he did, I saw it. Or he wanted to, if I stood up, he totally would have been looking,” Hardison tells him in all seriousness. It almost makes Eliot laugh. Almost. “I have to pee,” Hardison tells him suddenly, like Eliot needed to know that little fact or something, and he stands up.
“You’re right, he just looked at your ass,” Eliot says, fucking with him. He didn’t really, or well, he could have, but Eliot wasn’t paying attention.
“Huh? He did? What?” Hardison says, and whips around to look at the man. He blinks and doesn’t say anything before he tells Eliot again, “I need to pee.”
“Then fucking pee, stop standing around. Shit,” Eliot tells him, and Hardison nods before heading off into the bathroom.
As fun as this night is (Eliot’s not sure if that’s sarcasm or not yet, but he’s learning towards yes, just because it’s Hardison), he needs to bring the drunk fool home anyway. Eliot’s not sure how long he’s going to be able to stand if he keeps this up.
But it’s taking Hardison an unusually long time to pee, so Eliot stands up, hoping he’s not gonna walk in and see Hardison passed out and drowning in the urinal or something. If he is though, he does have a cell phone. Kodak moment and all. Eliot smirks to himself, now half hoping to see something like that.
But just as he nears the bathroom, Hardison comes out, with said staring-at-ass man behind him. “Baby! There you are!” Hardison tells him with a voice filled with relief, and Eliot makes a face. What the fuck did he just call him?
But it got worse.
Suddenly Hardison’s lips are on his, and he’s pinned up against the narrow corridor wall with Hardison’s body against his. Eliot has half a mind to push him off and deck him square in the jaw, maybe make his head spin around for good measure, but for some reason he doesn’t. It all happened so fast anyway that he didn’t really have time to properly react, because then Hardison is off of him, and he pleads to him in a whisper, “Don’t hit me, and I mean please don’t hit me, seriously, I’ll explain in a minute.”
“You fucking better,” Eliot growls at him. “Come on, we’re leaving.” He needed to get out of there; the alcohol was obviously taking over his brain. If he were sober, he definitely would have slammed the boys face into the ground. If he were sober, he wouldn’t still have the feel of Hardison’s lips on his like he was some woman. If he were sober, this would have never happened.
Fucking liquor.
When they’re out of the bar and into the cool night air, Eliot rounds on him. “What the fuck, Hardison!” His sense was getting back to him now. Hardison just fucking kissed him. A man just kissed him. That was nine shades of fucked up. Damn boy is gay, obviously. Did he not make it clear on his little note card that he was to not be hit on, let alone be… Christ. What the hell.
Hardison puts up his hands in defense and backs up a couple steps. “Hey, hey man, I’m sorry, seriously! You’re the last person I ever… yuck. But that guy was trying to corner me and be all… gay with me! I did the first thing I could think of! Ain’t no one gonna fuck with your property.”
He did have a point there. No one fucks with what’s his. But Hardison isn’t his! He doesn’t want him to be his!
“The first thing you could think of was to kiss me?” Eliot yells at him, furious. “You’re a lying sack, you know that? You are gay!”
“I am not gay!” Hardison yells at him.
“You’re flaming! Fucking flaming gay! Just admit it!”
“I’m NOT!”
“You ARE! You wanted to-”
“FINE!” Hardison screams at him, throwing his hands up a little. “Maybe I am, just a little bit, okay? I don’t know! Are you happy now? Are you?! FUCK YOU, ELIOT!”
Eliot stops, and just stares at him. Hardison’s breathing heavily, eyes narrow as he glares at him like he hates him for making him admit that. Eliot doesn’t know what to say, because maybe somewhere deep down he didn’t really think it was true. This was all one big joke to him because he knows the kid likes Parker, so he couldn’t be gay.
Eliot obviously missed the whole bisexual prospect. But now that’s staring him in the face, and he doesn’t know what to do. He actually feels bad, which he wasn’t expecting either. This was something serious to Hardison and he just… laughed it off. What kind of asshole does that make him? He might not like the kid on most days, but he ain’t gonna be purposely horrible to him when he’s going through something. He ain’t that kind of man.
“Hey… I’m sorry, man,” Eliot tells him, saying the only thing he can think of.
“Just forget it,” Hardison tells him, and starts walking past him and towards the car.
“Hardison, wait. Just fucking wait a second, damnit!” Eliot tells him, and runs up to him and takes him by the shoulder, turning him around. Hardison stares at him, a mixture of anger, self pity, and confusion on his face. It hits Eliot really hard. “Look, you do what you do, okay? I was serious about that part. It don’t matter to me if you are or aren’t. It’s your thing.”
Hardison doesn’t say anything for awhile, and Eliot gives him a little encouraging pat on the shoulder. Support, or whatever. “Don’t tell anyone else,” Hardison tells him softly.
“I won’t.”
CHAPTER THREE
The Picture
Being the only one who knows a secret is like signing yourself up to be a voluntary therapist.
Normally Eliot would let the secret lie, never speak of it again, and advise the other person to do the same. With Hardison though, it was different. This is one thing about having a fucking ‘family’ that gnaws at you: the caring part. The boy is clearly distressed, and leaving him alone in his apartment to contemplate his life or drown himself in a water bucket in front of his guild or whatever the hell it is he was planning on doing, didn’t seem to be the best idea.
“You don’t have to stay,” Hardison tells him as he sits down heavily on his couch and puts his head in his hands.
“You’ll probably drown in your own vomit if I don’t,” Eliot tells him.
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Yeah, well,” Eliot says and sits down on the couch next to him. He ain’t going to say the words, ‘I care, I’m here to help,’ because that just sounds so fucking mushy and he has a reputation to uphold.
Or whatever.
“Really, Eliot, you don’t-”
“Shut up, will ya? I’m here, so just leave it,” Eliot snaps at him. Man, try to give a shit about someone and they try to force your foot out the door anyway.
“Fine,” Hardison says, and leans back, crossing his arms. He’s pouting a bit too, he looks so much like a damn toddler it’s uncanny. “But I ain’t talking about it.”
“Fine,” Eliot says, and grabs the remote. Might as well watch one of the millions of sports channels Hardison has.
“Fine,” Hardison says again, and watches Eliot flip through the channels. There’s maybe about five minutes of silence, probably less though, before Hardison mumbles, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Eliot sighs and flips off the TV. Well, it was worth a shot. He turns to him. “There ain’t nothing wrong with you, there’s a bunch of gay people in the world. Hell, they’re gettin’ married now. So it’s whatever.”
“I ain’t gay, let’s make that perfectly clear in this conversation,” Hardison tells him with a little warning finger. Eliot wants to mock the warning finger, but restrains himself.
“Fine. Bisexual,” Eliot corrects himself.
“Bi… curious,” Hardison starts to agree, then changes it. Eliot rolls his eyes a little. Right, as far as the first step goes, admitting it, he ain’t getting a gold star.
“Same difference.”
“No, it’s not. It’s so not. There is a distinct difference, trust me. With the… distinctness,” Hardison tells him. Eliot wants to smack him on the back of the head, but doubts that will help any. His brain is already pretty rattled.
“You like to look at other guys cocks. Tomato, tomahto, I say,” Eliot tells him bluntly, and Hardison’s eyes go wide.
“I…I never said that I… I mean, I don’t… I…” he starts stuttering, and pointing with that damn finger again. Eliot grabs a hold of it to stop him.
“Dude, you had gay porn, that part spoke loud and clear for itself.”
Hardison doesn’t know what to say to that, and Eliot’s lets go of his finger before he finds out if that game ‘pull my finger’ is actually true. “I like Parker,” Hardison tells him, the first time Eliot thinks he’s ever really voiced that little tidbit outloud, only Eliot’s pretty sure he’s only using it as a defense now.
“I know,” Eliot tells him, and Hardison just stares at him. Eliot stares back, he didn’t really think he was low key about his little attraction did he? I mean, really. But regardless. “And Parker’s got apparently some kinky fetish of two men, so I think you already got it made, personally.”
Hardison groans, “That’s weird.”
“She’s weird,” Eliot corrects. Because she’s the weirdest fucking broad he’s ever known.
“Why I like her,” Hardison tells him softly. “She’s… different.”
“Then shut up about it, and be happy that she doesn’t think that you’re weird,” Eliot tells him. Then a pause. “But you are, just for the record. You’re fucking really weird. Not for this, but just you in general.”
“Thanks.” Sarcasm.
“No problem,” Eliot smirks.
There’s a long silence before Hardison says softly, not looking at him, “I’m sorry I kissed you, man.”
Eliot tenses a little, and he swears it was like a freaking movie in his head as it flashed back to that moment. The details seem to be a bit fuzzy, even though it only happened about an hour ago. All the flash contained was Hardison’s warm body pressed against his, the way he could feel exactly how much Hardison did have abs of steel (though he’ll never admit it to him), his soft lips brushing over his before going in for the kill (and yes, that’s how he’s going to refer to it, because it was like murder), and his breathing… his warm breath that came out in short bursts against his lips from either fear of Eliot hitting him for doing it… or desire, Eliot wasn’t sure. He also isn’t sure why everything seems to be going in slow motion in his head, and why he’s just sitting there, silent, probably looking like fucking Parker, as all this happens again.
“Eliot?”
Eliot blinks and shakes his head a little. Fucking liquor. Fucking… everything. If gay turns out to really be contagious then…
“You’re pissed still, aren’t you?”
“No,” Eliot tells him automatically. “Just… don’t talk about it, okay? Never happened.” God, he is never drinking again. Ever. His alcohol induced haze is making him have… no he’s not even going to say it. Tendencies. He’s not fucking saying the word that’s supposed to go in front of that.
Never. Drinking. Again.
“Alright,” Hardison tells him, and then there’s silence again. Eliot’s starting to feel awkward, a feeling he doesn’t normally get to experience.
But of course, because everything this world has a freaking plan to conspire against them and make everything even more fucked up… the doorbell rings.
Eliot looks at Hardison, and Hardison looks back at him. Then they both look at the door. Who the hell is that?
Hardison doesn’t seem to be moving, so Eliot stands up with a sigh and opens the door. “You know how to use a doorbell?” is out of his mouth in an automatic reaction to the person standing in front of him. But Parker doesn’t say anything, she just holds up a cell phone in his face. Eliot squints from the brightness shining in his eyes before he looks at what’s on it.
Oh, he’s gonna fucking kill her.
“Sophie told me to go, and I went, and I saw, and she said she wanted to proof that Hardison was accepting who he is, or whatever, so she’ll drop it or something, and so I took this, but now I don’t think I wanna show her cause… cause I don’t know why,” Parker lets out all in one breath.
Okay, maybe he won’t kill her. Now.
Hardison comes up behind Eliot and lets out a shriek only reserved for women and ubergeeks (he did not just use the word ‘ubergeek’, what is happening to him?) as he see’s who it is and what she’s holding. More specifically, what she has a picture of.
“Just get inside,” Eliot tells her gruffly as he herds her in with one hand and checks the hallway to see if anyone else has followed. He can’t help it, now Parker’s got him paranoid. When he closes the door, Hardison’s just staring at her with his eyes wide and his mouth open and completely mute.
“Are you gay too?” Parker asks him. It’s worse than that though, she asks it so innocently, almost like a child would, so he can’t find it in him to yell at her for even assuming such a preposterous thing.
Who knew preposterous was even in his vocabulary? Hm. That was new.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Eliot tells her, because it isn’t. It really, really isn’t. He didn’t like it or anything.
…Of course not.
“So you didn’t kiss him?” Parker asks, looking at her cell phone confused of the picture of him and Hardison… god.
“It was just so…” Eliot starts, and then lets out an aggravated sigh. He doesn’t even know how to explain it. “It was to get Hardison out of a situation,” Eliot tells her, then finishes with. “And he kissed me, for the record.” Because that record needs to be known. Noted and fucking filed. With a damn official seal.
Parker rounds on Hardison, who’s still catching flies. But she smiles at him, in that weird little way that she does that apparently makes Hardison feel a little better, because he closes his mouth. “I like that you like boys,” Parker tells him with a little nod.
But of course, that isn’t the end of it.
“Can you kiss Eliot again?”
“NO!” both Hardison and Eliot yell automatically, and Parker jumps a little bit from the force of it. Then she pouts.
“Parker,” Eliot tells her, his patience being tested now. Of all the people to know, why Parker? “This isn’t some kind of fucking game.”
“I know that,” she tells him seriously, and almost offended that Eliot questioned it.
“This is serious for Hardison.”
“I know that.”
“And he doesn’t want anyone to know yet, so just… leave it, alright?” Eliot tells her, hoping for once she’ll fucking get it.
When the hell did he become ‘the great Hardison defender’?
But the next thing out of Parker’s mouth isn’t to Eliot, it’s to Hardison. She goes up to him slowly and peers at him. “Do you want me to forget?” she asks him, like it’s something horrible. Like she doesn’t like that she’s not allowed to be in on the secret.
“I…” Hardison starts to say, but doesn’t seem to know what to really say to her. Eliot actually feels bad for him, having Parker know is probably not one of the things high on his priorities list for a variety of reasons. “Just please…. damn Parker, and I’m serious, please don’t tell anyone. And don’t… I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just leave it, like Eliot said.”
Parker looks at him, that pout still evident at the corner of her lips. “But… aren’t I your friend?”
“Yeah girl, but-”
“Then why does Eliot get to talk about it but I don’t?” Parker asks, not understanding. Shit, this doesn’t look good. Eliot thinks they actually just hurt her feelings. Before this he was ninety seven percent sure that the aliens took those away from her when she was abducted.
Okay, that was a little weird, even for him. Once again: fucking liquor. Or maybe fucking Hardison, since he’s always the one going on about aliens in Doctor-
Fucking Hardison.
GOD DAMNIT. LIQUOR! What the fuck is wrong with his brain?! Gay is completely contagious, obviously. Eliot backs up a few steps for good measure. There’s obviously got the be a distance factor involved.
“Parker you’re… you’re different,” Hardison tries to explain, but he’s frustrated and upset and he’s not doing a very good job, and Parker clearly still doesn’t understand.
“I know I’m different, everyone always tells me that. I know I’m not… like,” she waves her hand at the two of them, and he last part come out in a softer voice, maybe even a bit sad, “Normal.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Hardison tells her, just bursts out in his frustration. He obviously can’t think of any other way to rectify the situation, so the truth seemed to win out, whether he wanted it to or not, “You’re different because I like you!”
Parker stops. Then she’s blinking, staring. “Oh,” she says softly. Eliot thinks this conversation is entirely too awkward for his presence, and wants to leave, but Parker’s blocking the door. “Um,” she says, obviously not knowing how to deal with this piece of conversation. Hardison’s just standing there, looking at her, looking like he may shatter into a million pieces if she just walks away.
“I, um,” Parker says, and shifts on her feet. She folds her arms into herself and looks down at the ground as she shuffles a bit, before looking back up at him. “Locks,” she tells him. One word. One damn word that makes no freaking sense to Eliot.
“I know,” Hardison tells her, and lets out a breath, relieved she didn’t run. What the hell? Does Parker and him some kind of secret language now? Eliot feels left out, something he doesn’t think he’s experienced much either. What is it with him lately?
“The picking, it’s not-”
“I know,” Hardison tells her again. “But that’s why… why it’s different, okay? I can’t… just not now.”
Parker purses her lips and nods. There’s silence for awhile before she tells him softly, “I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.” Hardison nods, grateful.
Eliot still wants to know what the hell locks have to do with anything.
A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates. My Mac up and went and had a spaz, so I had to go buy a new computer... and then I made the mistake of downloading World of Warcraft and that completely sucked my soul. SO. Yeah, sorry. Ha. And by the way, if this ends up turning into a Eliot/Parker/Hardison, its not my fault -shifty-
CHAPTER FOUR
The Issue
They never met clients together. Not all of them, anyway. Always Nate, most of the time with Sophie, and that one disaster with Parker. That should have tipped him off right then, but Eliot was just looking for something to do to get his mind off of everything with Hardison. Sobering up obviously didn’t seem to fix whatever damn issue he was having right now. Not Hardison’s issue, Eliot’s. Eliot had an issue. Eliot had a big fucking issue.
But he’s not ready to admit that issue, even in his head. So he’s just going to leave it at that: an issue. He blames his brain, and his near photographic memory that seemed to cater to his sense of touch more than his good sense.
Whatever. They had a client, and he needed a beer.
When he got to McRory’s, Nate and Sophie were sitting at a booth next to each other with Parker looking incredibly uncomfortable across from them. She was fidgeting, picking at her clothes, and couldn’t seem to sit still. Eliot knitted his eyebrows together as he approached them, sliding in next to Parker.
“Ain’t here yet?” Stating the obvious, but Parker was making his skin crawl with nervousness. He hated when she was acting weird, he wasn’t sure why. She seemed to have this uncanny ability to have it effect other people, and right now he was getting it full force. “Stop fidgeting,” he grumbles under his breath to her.
“I have to move,” she tells him. Damn, watch the girl have ADD now on top of all her other issues.
“Client’s running a little late,” Nate tells him. His voice has this weird pitch, right before he shifts his eyes over to Sophie.
Oh no.
Eliot starts to get up, knowing exactly what this is, mumbling something about needing a beer, but gets pushed back into the booth and trapped by Hardison unknowingly walking directly into the lion’s mouth. Or the hand where Sophie has a firm grip on Nate’s balls. Either way.
“Thought I’d be late,” Hardison says as he looks around the bar, double checking that he in fact wasn’t late, and not that their client is just in the bathroom or something. “So who’re we dealing with?”
Eliot wanted out of this booth. Being trapped between Hardison and Parker and what’s about to happen didn’t seem like a great place to be. Especially because with the way Parker was acting, he’s afraid that Sophie somehow got her hands on that picture. Parker said she would delete it, but it was Parker. You just never know.
It was making his chest tight, and his throat dry, and all he wanted was a fucking beer and he felt trapped. He hated feeling trapped. It made him want to hit something.
“Running a bit late,” Sophie tells him, with a smile as she lies to his face. Eliot knows there isn’t any client. Why didn’t he put two and two together before is beyond him. He’s been way too distracted lately, always in his head with his… issues. Damn fucking issues.
“But while we’re waiting...” Sophie continues. Nate starts to look uncomfortable, Parker starts to fidget more. Yup, here we go. “How did the bar go?”
Eliot can feel Hardison tense next to him. Eliot tries to keep himself relaxed, but it’s proving difficult. He decides that keeping his eyes focused on something other than the people at this table seemed like a better way to go. The beer seemed like a great thing to look at, if only he could get to it.
“Fine,” Hardison says in a flat voice, trying to end that conversation, but of course with Sophie… nothing is ever really ended.
“I heard it didn’t go so well,” Sophie tells him in this sympathetic voice, which actually makes Eliot be able to look at her. If she thinks it didn’t go well, than that means she doesn’t know that he was involved in Hardison’s… road to gayness, or whatever. Not that he was actually involved with that road. That’s not what he means. He was just there. And got kissed due to a wrong place wrong time situation.
Or whatever. Fuck.
“It went fine,” Hardison tells her in this low, dangerous voice with his eyes narrowed. “Look, can you just… drop it, okay?” he looks around, obviously not comfortable discussing this in a public place. Eliot couldn’t blame him.
“Hardison, we’re all here to help you,” Sophie tells him patiently.
“There is no client, is there?” Hardison exclaims, finally catching on, and moves to get up. Yup, good move.
But he doesn’t get all the way out of the booth before Sophie pulls out the one card no one saw coming. “No Hardison, please don’t leave. I’m sorry.”
That made everyone stop and just stare at her. Hardison was even half out of his seat, hovering in mid air. Sophie never apologized, at least not out right and fully. She’d rather choke on her own vomit than admit she made a mistake.
Which is why Eliot is pretty sure she only did it because she knew it would make him stop. And it worked, the manipulative bitch. Eliot maybe admires that. Just a little. It’s evil, but it’s damn useful.
Unfortunately it also blocked the path from the booth from hell, to the alcohol.
“You’re what?” Hardison asks, wondering if he heard her right.
“I just…” Sophie starts, and her eyes shift. She’s avoiding saying it again, something Eliot does actually find believable. “I was just trying to help, but if you…” a heavy sigh then a mumbled, “Nevermind.”
Now she’s playing the guilt card. Man, two different cards in under two minutes? She just doesn’t give up. Why Hardison isn’t seeing through this, he has no idea.
Eliot looks over at the bar longingly, but instead of his eyes landing on the taps (which was what he was going for), his eyes land on the ass of a sexy blonde leaning over the bar as she orders a drink. Nice. But now he wanted to get up even more.
He needs to end this conversation now.
“Sophie, I’m fine,” Hardison stresses, wanting to end the conversation too. He was fidgeting now, looking a lot like Parker. In fact, she’s been awful quiet. That’s not like her…
“Look, I’ll take him to a club or something,” Eliot tells all of them, while still staring at the girl’s ass at the bar. He didn’t have to be looking at them to know that everyone just stopped and is now staring at him.
“What?” Nate asks, the first thing he’s said since they all sat down.
“Really, Eliot?” Sophie says in this… god awful annoying tone. Like she thinks it’s sweet or something ridiculous like that. He just wanted to get Sophie off of his back.
And stop these meetings. Mainly stopping the meetings. Yeah…
“Dude, I don’t think I wanna-”
“Shut up, Hardison. Conversation over, now move,” Eliot tells him. Hardison sputters a little, but with a little push he’s out of the booth and Eliot’s free.
He’s not going to dwell on the fact that he just offered to go to a gay club. He’s not. There’s a hot blonde over there, beer calling and… oh, she’s finally turning around. Get a good look at what he’s gonna be working with later…
He thinks he just choked on his own breath.
Parker turns and smiles at him, holding up a beer to him. He kind of wants to bang his head against something heavy, since maybe it’ll make his brain work right for once. How the hell did she get out of the…? Actually no, that’s not what the problem is. Parker’s always disappearing and appearing randomly. The problem was that he was just staring at her ass for a good ten minutes. He was staring at Parker’s ass. The world really has turned upside down.
There is something seriously wrong with him. He now has more issues than he can even count. Her ass? SERIOUSLY? Parker?!
“Here,” she says, and hands the beer to him. “You were staring at it earlier.”
He just blinks at her, takes it, and walks away. He needed to get out there. You were staring at it earlier. Yeah, he was. But not the beer. Fuck, he has a migrane. He needs to go to a different bar, watch the game, and just… not think.
That sounds like a good, solid plan.
Then again, anything that doesn’t involve being around Sophie and her pet Nate, staring at Parker’s ass, or thinking about Hardison, seemed like an excellent plan in his book anyway.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Pinky Swear
“Do I look okay?”
Eliot cocks an eyebrow in Hardison’s direction, who’s busy in front of the mirror, trying to smooth out his nonexistent hair and turning around a bit to try to look at himself from all sides. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize you were gay earlier,” Eliot tells him, commenting on his behavior. Hardison turns around and glares at him.
“Hey, I’m not- whatever, shut up. I’m just trying to… you know what? Just go play with your hair or something,” Hardison tells him, frustrated, and turns back around towards the mirror.
Eliot smirked, but absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair, just in case it was mussed up or something. A little muss is good; a lot makes it look like he doesn’t own a brush. Which he does. He owns a couple, as a matter of fact.
“How much do you think I should cut off?”
Eliot turns and see’s Parker in the threshold of the doorway, scissors in hand. Oh no.
“DON’T CUT YOUR HAIR!” Both Eliot and Hardison yell at the same time, and Parker blinks and looks confused at the sudden outburst.
“But how am I supposed to attract the lesbians if I don’t?”
“Parker,” Eliot sighs, and rubs his temples. God, this woman. “You’re not going, and even if you were you don’t-why the hell would you wanna attract lesbians anyway?”
“Because you both are bisexual, so I wanted to find out if I am too,” Parker tells them both with a little smile, a little nod.
Eliot’s head fucking exploded.
“I am NOT bisexual! That’s him!” Eliot shouts, pointing at the offending man in the doorway of the bathroom, who flipped him off, but looked more amused with the situation than Eliot would allow.
“Defensive, aren’t we?” Hardison chuckles. Eliot narrows his eyes, giving him a glare that most people would run screaming from. Hardison however, just widened his smirk. God, that man’s such a fucking bastard.
“You kissed him,” Parker tells him as she walks past Hardison and looks at herself in the mirror as she raises the scissors to her hair. Hardison swipes the offending object in the nick of time, and Parker pouts.
“He kissed me,” Eliot growls, then bursts out, “And you’re not going, so I don’t know why you’re trying to get all… butch.”
“I have to go, I have to get proof. Sophie says so,” Parker tells him, then stares at her attire as she picks at her shirt before turning around to Hardison, “Can I borrow some of your clothes? Lesbians wear guy’s clothes, right?”
“Sure,” Hardison tells her, and Eliot throws up his hands at him like “what the hell, man?” and Hardison just shrugs as Parker goes into Hardison’s bedroom to find a lesbian costume, or whatever it is that she’s trying to do.
“This is fucking ridiculous.”
“It was your idea,” Hardison tells him, and then smirks before mocking, “Something you’re not telling us, Eliot?”
“Fuck off, man. Only reason I said I’d bring you was to get Sophie off of your back, so you’re welcome.”
“It’s still pointless, Sophie ain’t gonna be off my back till she has ‘proof’, and I’m not… I’m so not making out with some random dude,” Hardison tells him. He’s right though, she won’t, so Eliot has no idea how the hell they’re going to get that without…
“You made out with Eliot,” Parker interjects as she comes back into the room, and then asks without missing a beat, “Do I look like a lesbian?”
“Photoshop!”
“What?” Hardison asks, looking between them both confused. He focuses on Parker and gives her the thumbs up, even though Parker didn’t really look a lesbian at all. In fact, putting her in an oversized button down undershirt made her somehow look even hotter, which Eliot wishes he didn’t admit in his head. Both Hardison and Eliot dismissed her makeout comment. They just… didn’t want to think about that. Ever. Again.
Ever.
“Photoshop!” Hardison cries out, finally getting what Eliot was talking about. “I can manipulate the picture! That’s freaking genius, Eliot!”
Eliot smirks. Well, it is what it is. Or rather, he is what he is.
“Wait… I need a picture of me making out with someone first,” Hardison says, then slumps onto the couch dejectedly.
“Why?” Eliot asks. If he had the picture, he wouldn’t have to manipulate it, isn’t that the point? Then again, the only thing he knows how to do on Photoshop is like… draw with a pencil. And erase it. Sometimes smudge it. That damn programs confusing.
“For it to look seamless I’ll have to use a picture of me making out with someone, and then I’ll have to basically…” he looks at Eliot, knowing he’d have to explain this in simple terms. “I’d have to cut it out and paste it onto a picture with a guy and… you know, mess with it a little, or a lot, whatever, until it looks good. You can’t start with nothing.”
Oh. Well, shit. Well-hang on wait a minute… “You don’t have any pictures of you making out with chicks?” Doesn’t everyone have those?
“Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to parade around my women.”
“At least I have women to parade around,” Eliot retorts back. Hardison scoffs.
“Make out with Eliot again,” Parker tells Hardison, and both Hardison and Eliot stop griping and turn to look at her.
“NO!”
Parker narrows her eyes, then puts her hands on her hips. “Well if you didn’t make me delete the other one you already would have a picture.”
“You make out with Hardison,” Eliot tells her. “And I’ll take the picture.”
“I can’t,” Parker tells him, like he should know that. Like it’s obvious. Poor Hardison looked like Christmas had come early only to find out the Grinch stole it, all in a matter of thirty seconds.
“Why not?” Eliot asks her.
“Because I’m a lesbian today, obviously,” Parker tells him, and swipes her hands down her form to indicate her little costume.
“And I’m straight every day!” Eliot yells at her, his temper rising. He is not kissing Hardison, not again. Fuck that!
“You’re not a lesbian,” Hardison tells her. Maybe a bit too hopefully.
“How would you know? I don’t even know. That’s why we were going to go to the club.” A pause. “We’re still going right?”
“Not if I get that picture,” Hardison tells her.
“Fine, then no picture,” Parker tells him, like that’s final, and grabs her coat and starts walking towards the door.
What the fuck?
Eliot would much rather Parker just stick her tongue down Hardison’s throat for two damn seconds then actually have to go to that club. “Damnit, Parker! Just kiss him already!”
Parker whipped around, “You kiss him!”
Hardison raised his hand, “Do I get a vote in this?” But both Parker and Eliot ignore him, both squaring off and glaring at each other.
“You just wanna get off on it,” Eliot tells her forcefully, his temper rising. Because what the hell, right? Obviously the little perv just wants to see it again, her and her twisted little fantasies.
“I’m trying to help Hardison!”
“You can help him by kissing him!” Eliot yells back. This woman is damn frustrating! Crazy fucking…
“BUT I’M A LESBIAN TODAY!”
“Parker, you’re not a fucking-!”
“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!” Hardison screams, which makes both of them stop and look at him. “God, ya’ll aren’t helping. Rather not be here while you both fight over how horrible it is to kiss me. Rather fucking just… you know what? Just get out of my house, I’ll deal with Sophie on my own,” Hardison tells them, and storms into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Shit.
“This is your fault,” Eliot tells her. Because it is.
Parker looks halfway between furious and upset, and her eyes flicker to Hardison’s closed bedroom door. “Na uh,” she says, but its quiet. Crap, she is really upset. What the hell, why does this always happen? Why does he even care?
“Why won’t you just kiss him?” Eliot asks her, but it isn’t accusing, more soft. Curious.
“Because I…” Parker starts, and then stops. She purses her lips. “Nevermind.” She shuffles her feet a little.
“The lock thing, whatever that was?” Eliot asks her.
“No… well yeah, no.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” Talking to this woman needs to come with a deciphering code. Parker mumbles something, and Eliot raises his eyebrows. “What?” Parker mumbles something again, but Eliot still doesn’t hear it so he says, “Parker, just spit it out already.”
“I like him, okay?! There’s the butterflies, and the feelings, and the bounciness and the key but it’s not ready yet!” Parker yells this time, and looks absolutely furious with Eliot for making her admit that… whatever that just was. He only understood about half of it. She crosses her arms over her chest, defensive, and tells him, “Just leave me alone.”
And now Parker’s trying to walk away. God damnit, this whole damn team is just so fucking dysfunctional.
“Parker, hold on,” Eliot calls after her, but she doesn’t stop. Eliot walks up to her and puts a hand on her shoulder, but it must have triggered some sort of reflex Parker has when she feels exposed and she turns, fury written all over her face as she tries to hit him. Eliot only barely caught her wrist and managed to divert it away from his face. “Hey! Whoa, slow down! Parker, chill, it’s me!”
Parker yanks her wrist out of his grip and just glares at him. “Hey darlin’ come on… relax. I ain’t gonna tell him or anything. Not if you ain’t ready.”
That makes Parker be able to breathe a little better, and her glare falters a bit. But it’s back up and she demands, “Pinky swear.”
Pinky…? Oh, for the love of shit.
Eliot sighs in defeat and puts up his pinky. What is he, five now? “Pinky swear.” Parker looks apprehensive for a moment before she takes his pinky with her own and shakes it firmly. Then she relaxes.
There’s silence for a moment as they both turn and look at Hardison’s door. “I’ll give you five grand if you kiss him,” Parker tells him softly.
“That’s chump change,” Eliot tells her evenly.
“Better than nothing, and you know you’re gonna have to. I can’t.”
This is hell.
Seriously, his fucking life should have a welcome sign that says “Welcome to Hell, please enjoy your stay. The beers free, and so are the men.”
Men. This is why this is hell.
Actually, what made it hell is that he knows that Parker’s right. The only reason she’s right though is because if he suggests that she be the one that kisses Hardison again she might try to rip off his pinky next time. He already can’t believe he calmed her down that fast; the girls got some violent anger issues. And if she can’t kiss him, who’s left? Him. Fucking… him.
He really doesn’t want to do this.
And it’s not even kissing a man bit. That should bother him, yes. But how hard is it to just picture Angelina Jolie in his head while he’s doing it? Not very hard. He’s done that with some of the less picture perfect women he’s slept with. No, the problem was that it was Hardison, and he sees him, everyday. The problem is that it’s Hardison, and he apparently likes men. The problem is this: what if Hardison starts getting used to kissing him? What if he starts to think…?
Damnit.
Eliot feels backed into a wall, like some kind of trapped animal in the third dimension of sexual hell.
Okay, he drifted a bit there.
But he takes a deep breath, and mentally prepares Angelina Jolie naked in his head. Okay, he can do this. He’s man enough to do this. “Get your phone ready to take the picture. Just… follow me, okay?”
“You’re gonna do it?” Parker asks, like she can’t actually believe he agreed to it.
“Just shut up and be ready, okay?” Eliot tells her, just wanting her to be quiet about it. He doesn’t need it said outloud.
And then he’s off, striding through the living room and opening up Hardison’s door. Hardison turns around in surprise and anger and starts, “Eliot, I thought I said-”
“Shut up and just go with it,” Eliot tells him gruffly as he grabs his shirt, pushes him against the smooth surface of his bedroom wall and crashes his lips to his.
Damnit.
Hardison mumbles something that sounds like surprised shock against Eliot’s lips, but Eliot focuses on Angelina naked and uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Suddenly Hardison relaxes, and Eliot can feel him grab his hip and dig his fingers in a bit as a sound that somewhat resembles the most horrifying noise in the world - a moan - escapes his lips.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
Angelina was gone, floated away into damn nothingness and all he could think about was Hardison, and how he did kiss surprisingly well, and how part of him didn’t want to stop. He tried, he tried to pull away. That was it; Parker must have gotten the picture by now. But he didn’t stop. It terrified him to like the way Hardison was grabbing onto him, it fucking terrified him to realize he just nipped at the younger man’s bottom lip, and it terrified him that… that it was starting to make him hard.
“Okay, I uh… I… got it,” Parker tells the two men in this weird tone, and that jerked Eliot out of his haze as he stumbled back away from Hardison, both of them breathing a little heavily. They both just stared at each other, chests heaving, looking at each other like they both had no idea what had just happened. Eliot took a couple more steps back for good measure.
“That was sexy,” Parker breathes, looking at both of them. That makes both of them look at her, and then back at each other.
“I gotta get home,” Eliot tells him, his brain screaming at him and giving him a headache. He felt hazy, his senses were all fucked up, and he just needed to get the hell out of there.
“Yeah… I uh, I guess we got what we needed,” Hardison tells him awkwardly, and then looks over at Parker, who was staring at the picture on her phone in the most disturbing way.
“Good cause I gotta…” Eliot says, backing up.
“Yeah….”
“Right,” Eliot finishes, and gets the hell outta dodge.
What. The. Hell. Just. Happened?
TOO BIG, LIKE ALWAYS
PART TWO IS HERE.