What, was &quot;Rudy&quot; on cable last night?

"You know, I just remembered these are my favorite pants," Hardison said, hitching them up yet again. "I'm sure I'll be okay this wee--whoa!"

He'd tried to take a step forward and managed to get tangled in the foot's worth of extra length his pants had on him now. Did you know, it was very difficult to catch your balance when your center of gravity was in a different place than it used to be?

"...Ow."

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"Alright, tiny," Eliot said, offering him a hand up. "You can borrow one of my shirts while Parker goes shopping."

Hardison's own shirts would cover more. But they'd have less of the "she's wearing my shirt like a dress" sex appeal for Eliot, specifically.

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Snickering, Parker headed for the door. Then she turned around and said, "If you make out, you need to take pictures! Or just wait 'til I get back, okay?"

She'd be back in a bit. With clothes and ice cream and booze and chocolate. And flip-flops.

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The booze would be so appreciated. So, so appreciated. The chocolate, too, but mostly the booze.

Hardison accepted Eliot's hand, giving them both a giant grin. That also had not changed, happily. "Our girl has the best ideas. You know that, right?"

Making out, taking pictures, involving Parker...seriously. Not one of those was a bad plan.

"I love bein' with a mastermind."

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"Mmm," Eliot said. "I'm withholdin' final judgement till I see what she qualifies as 'normal clothes'."

The rest of it was an excellent idea, though.

He reached over to pull Hardison in and kiss him on the top of his head -- the better to lord his tallness over him -- and smiled. "You have hair to play with, now."

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"Don't think I don't know why you're doin' that," Hardison declared, smiling at the kiss anyway. "An' why you're all about me borrowin' a shirt of yours." Which was why he was going to pick Eliot's favorite shirt out of his closet to prance around in, see if he didn't.

"An', yeah, I guess I do." He tugged one of the curls out as long as it would go and examined it. "Time to see how much I remember about dealin' with natural hair from growin' up." Nana had always had a houseful of kids and had expected them to all help take care of the younger ones. "You like it?" he asked, peeping up at Eliot.

That was going to take some adjusting to.

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"Damn right I do, darlin'," Eliot said, sproinging one of the curls in the back. "I only get a coupla days to enjoy this particular brand of hotness on you." He leaned back, looking Hardison over again. "I, uh. Could probably help. With the natural hair stuff." He shrugged a little sheepishly. "I been -- lookin' it up."

You know, since he found out he might at some point have a kinky-haired daughter.

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"You have?" Hardison was startled, yes, but that lasted only moments before it turned into a smile, one he tried to bite back so Eliot wouldn't see how much that honestly touched him. "That's...cool. Yeah. That's really cool."

Great. Because he apparently hadn't been in love with his partners enough before.

Leaning over, he cupped Eliot's cheek with a soft hand. It was so small! "Almost makes up for all those short jokes I know you're savorin'. Better get 'em out while you still can."

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"I'm plannin' on throwing you over my shoulder and carryin' you around before this weekend's over," Eliot said. "I figure it's karmic revenge."

Because 5'9" WASN'T THAT SHORT, dammit.

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Only a half inch shorter than average!

"I ain't never thrown you over my shoulder," Hardison protested. "...I princess-carry you instead."

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"Fine," Eliot said. "I'll do that. You're so small I won't even throw out my back."

Trip and potentially kill them both because he didn't have a complete handle on his new center of balance, sure. But his back would be fine.

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That would certainly be a comfort to both of them as they lay dying. Hardison wouldn't go to meet his maker bitching about Eliot's back being fine at all!

"I wanna say I ain't that short, but that ain't even true. I am tiny. I'mma demand piggyback rides like I'm Parker an' make you open all the tall cupboards an' everything." Hardison rather thought he might enjoy being tiny for a weekend. So long as he could go back to being the tallest after it was all over.

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"Sure thing, Shorty." What? Eliot only had so much time to enjoy this in.

His stomach grumbled and Val yipped from downstairs. Some people were spending far too much time talking and not enough feeding their puppy, dammit!

"C'mon." Eliot grabbed the first shirt to hand -- which happened to be Hardison's -- and pulled it on. "I'll make us breakfast while we wait for Parker." The shirt gaped over his breasts. Eliot pretended not to notice.

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Hardison was noticing. Hardison was definitely noticing that. "You gonna carry me or what?" he asked. He wouldn't mind getting princess-carried all snugly against Eliot's chest.

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In a little while, Parker showed up, arms laden down with bags. "I have so much stuff, and it's not all to wear. But I did get you belts."

And mini-skirts. Some hair stuff. And so much booze. (Did Hardison's alcohol tolerance shrink with his body?)

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"Oh thank god," Eliot said. The boobs had been all nice and fun when he was princess-carrying Hardison (after the stairs, thank you), but the jiggling was even throwing off his cooking, somehow. "Please tell me you got me a sports bra."

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It almost certainly did. They'd be dealing with a Hardison drunk on mimosas and wasn't that a hilarious possibility.

"Woman!" Hardison called, having pounced on the bags and discovered the miniskirts. "Just what is this?" He held one up for Eliot to see, too.

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Parker gave him her most innocent, completely oblivious face. "Something for Eliot?"

It might fit! They couldn't know until he tried it on!

"I got you a sports-bra that can sling-shot melons to the moon," Parker said, snickering. "Also, a hair tie. Or ten. And maybe a couple clips."

She made one of the clips making chewing motions at Eliot, nom nom nom.

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"I already have hair ties, Parker." Eliot glared at the much too small bit of fabric in Hardison's hand. "I'm not wearing that."

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"But it's for you, Eliot!" Hardison said, already certain he was digging his own grave, but he couldn't not. "Parker got it just for you! Of course you gotta wear it!"

There was almost certainly something just as awful in there for him, but he was going to harass Eliot anyway, and hope to put off his own capitulation for as long as possible.

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"You should just at least try it on so you can see if it fits or not." Parker was nodding hard.

Yes, there was a dark red pretty version of this in there for you, Hardison. Just wait.

"I always have to wear the girl stuff. You guys don't, and just once you should at least try it on. You don't have to take it out of the house."

She pulled out the bottle of tequila. "Also I got the booze."

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Eliot was totally going to end up drunk and wearing a miniskirt before this day was over.

Not that he'd figured that out, yet.

"You're an actual girl, though," he pointed out, gesturing with his paring knife. "All I want is somethin' I can wear that makes these --" pointing to his own chest with a knife was an awesome idea, shut up, "-- stop wobblin' around and throwin' me off every which way."

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At least he wouldn't be alone? Drunk, miniskirted, and probably getting laid.

In short, an excellent day, if a weird one.

"They are very wobbly," Hardison said. Helpfully. "I offered to hole onto 'em, but apparently that's some kind of 'cookin' hazard'."

"But it's cool if you don't think you can pull off a skirt as well as Parker can. Is this some kinda newfound modesty thing?"

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Yeah, that was Parker cackling, and looking for margarita glasses. Niiiice one, Hardison.

"I'm as much of a girl as you are a girl right now," she added to Eliot. "Sometimes it's a little fun to be pretty but mostly it's a pain, and leggings don't have pockets, and finding shoes that are good for sneaking are a pain if you're male or female, so." She shrugged, and then beamed. "Hardison gets chocolate first."

Maybe bribery would help with putting Hardison in a miniskirt, too?

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