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

Goodbye, sandwich. Sometimes it was better to give in with grace. But the conversation was taking a turn that would make eating his sandwich difficult anyway, so better to Parker.

"Yeah, well...sorta. She knows all about y'all. All about the crew, really. Not, like, what we do, exactly, but that we help out the little folks. She's the reason I really got in, you know? She was always really big on helpin' out the less fortunate an' givin' back to the community, an' all that noise."

If they--if Parker--ever found out how much of his own money went to charitable organizations, he might never hear the end of it.

"She knows you two are my family an' that I don't ever see that changin'. An' I been droppin' hints and things for awhile now. I just--" He scrubbed his face, feeling guilty and unable to meet their eyes. "She's old an' religious. I ain't never heard her say nothin' against anyone but--I don't even know if she knows I like guys."

How to explain? That even now, at almost thirty, he had a fear of disappointing his Nana? That he would never expect her to start preaching hellfire and damnation at them, but the fear of her not loving and accepting the two most important people in his life was paralyzing? That this worry wasn't worthy of either his crew or his Nana, but he had it anyway? That there was still some part of that small boy who strove always to please so he wouldn't get sent away again inside him and always would be?

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Eliot shifted to rest his hand on the back of Hardison's neck. "It's cool, man," he said. "Hell, I had it easy. I ain't seen Trudy in twenty years. If she'd've taken it badly, wouldn't be hard to avoid her after."

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Parker had had no idea Hardison had been worried about this. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then nudged took Hardison's hands and squeezed them, hanging on tight. She wanted to say she was sure his Nana would love him no matter what, but....

"It's okay. You don't have to tell her. About either of us." She bit her lip, then had to ask, "Do you think she'd be okay with me?"

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"I don't like lyin'." Said the thief. "Not to her. Not about y'all. You're too much a part of my life to pretend y'all ain't--everything that y'all are to me. An', yeah, baby girl, she'd love you."

Parker wouldn't be the weirdest person that Nana had accepted into her home and heart. Hardison getting sent to her had almost been a fluke, a 'gift from God', she'd always liked to say. Nana had been known for her skill with the hard cases, those who had been almost impossible to place with anyone else.

"Hell, I mean, she knows that you an' me are together." They'd been together for a year and Nana had gotten sporadic updates on their relationship's trajectory for years, as they'd tentatively moved from strangers to friends to lovers. "That's part of what's makin' me feel bad," he admitted. "Eliot, you ain't my--my dirty secret or nothin'. I'm proud to be with you, like I'm proud to be with Parker." Of that, there was never any doubt. "Feels wrong I should claim Parker to her, but not you. It ain't right. What we got might be newer, but it ain't lesser.."

He might have been stewing about this for awhile, yes.

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This wasn't how Eliot had been thinking of getting Hardison riled up. Honestly, he'd been kind of expecting a smart ass "She's known longer than you have" or something.

He tugged Hardison towards him, hand still firm on the back of his neck. "Hey. It's alright. I ain't offended."

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"I want to believe she'd love you no matter what, and be okay with us no matter what." Parker was rubbing her feet against Hardison's now, face drawn. "I want to say she doesn't matter if she doesn't accept Eliot. But... I know it doesn't work like that." Her face tense up and she said, quieter, watching her two guys, "But I don't want you to ever feel like you have to choose, or even have to be careful."

The world was so weird about this stuff. Sex and love and everything. She'd given up trying to predict people's reactions before Sophie gave her the keys, and still... it was totally different when it wasn't a mark, or a client.

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"She will," Hardison said with a finality that had less to do with belief and more with a readiness to be done with the subject. "'Sides, we're s'posed to be makin' fun of Eliot for gettin' beat up by his baby sister, remember?" He gave them both a smile that asked to be reassured that he hadn't ruined the good mood from earlier. "Did she get the jump on you? Or did Mama Spencer just raised a buncha brawlers? I need to know so I can prepare my delicate self for that visit."

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Eliot snorted, having no issue at all with changing the subject back around again. "She's scrappy," he said. "And what am I s'posed to do, hit her back? She's my kid sister."

This had not really stopped them from getting into actual knock-down, drag-out fights when they were little, but that was before he had five inches on her.

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"Now I really want to meet her," Parker said speculatively. "And ask her all the questions. All of them."

Had Eliot always been grumpy? When did he start getting obsessed with his hair? Did he have eyes in the back of his head as a teenager? Stuff like that.

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"Is she actually littler than you?" Hardison asked. "Like, how much shorter? Man, she must be tiny."

Yes, he liked lording his extra five inches of height over Eliot. God knew it was the only physical contest between the two of them that he's ever win.

"Is her hair pretty, too? Do y'all share regimen secrets? Does she have access to a trunk full of embarassin' baby pictures and stories?"

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"I barely talked to her in twenty years, when was I supposed to be sharin' hair care secrets?" Eliot shook his head. "She's tiny. Five-three. But solid, you know? Used to help out around the shop when we were kids, lugging five gallon paint buckets around like they were nothin'. She could kick your ass with her hands tied behind her back." Not that this was necessarily hard. "She keeps her hair short, these days, one of those, whatchallit -- pixie cuts."

He wasn't going to answer that last question. They'd find out if she'd kept all of their mother's old albums when they got around to going to visit her.

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"Does she still work at your dad's hardware store?" That had to be a sore spot, kinda, if she did. For one of them, anyway. "And you're Eliot. You could have sent them to her by messenger pigeon."

He could have.

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"Course she could kick my ass," Hardison said at the same time. "You think I'm stupid enough to raise a hand to a Spencer? Awww hell no. I like my jaw with all my teeth attached."

Because even if Trudy didn't whup his ass, Eliot would. Nope!

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"No one sends messages by pigeon anymore, Parker. And, uh. Nah. The store -- went under." And yeah. It was a very large sore spot.

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Parker grimaced at him, and leaned her head on his shoulder. One more reason not to meet his dad, probably.

She grinned at Hardison. "He came back here tonight." Yaaay. "So we should invite him to stay the night."

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"This is why you're the Mastermind, baby girl. You're brilliant." Hardison solved the invitation problem by shifting about a little and resting his absurdly long legs in Eliot's lap. There. Now he couldn't go anywhere. See? Problem solved.

But, y'know, for politeness's sake...

"Yo, Eliot. You wanna stay over tonight? Pretty sure me'n Parker could find some way to keep you entertained for the rest of the evenin'."

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Eliot looked down at Hardison's legs over his lap, then back up, eyebrow raised. "You gonna hold me down if I decide to leave?"

He'd mentioned that he was into powerplay, right? He was pretty sure he'd let them know. . . .

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Parker scissored her legs so they were around Hardison, and settled more of her weight on Eliot. It would be very complicated to disentangle them at this point.

"Do you want us to? 'Cause we have some silk ties that are just lying around."

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"I think you might be a little surprised at how effective we might be at keeping you just where we want you," Hardison challenged, raising his eyebrow a little. "I mean, ain't no one gonna gonna stop you from tryin'. I just don't think you're gonna get very far."

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Eliot took a look at the new arrangement and grinned. He could definitely get out of it. Probably not without Parker clinging to his back like a baby sloth, though. "That sounds a bit like a challenge, to me."

Then he leaned up to give Parker another kiss. Since she was the one on top of him, and all, and he didn't want Hardison to pull something trying to lean that far over his own legs.

Distraction was always fair play.

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Mmmmmmmmmmm Eliot kisses! Very distracting. Very occupying. Yaaay!

Also, Hardison kisses. She was in favor of this too. In a minute. Hopefully he ws watching, though.

Edited Date: 2015-05-12 04:12 am (UTC)

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Oh indeeeeeed he was. Watching and grinning and maybe shifting a little as his pants grew tighter. Damn his partners were incredibly sexy. When he was kissing one or the other of them, he usually had his eyes closed and his attention focused on experiencing the kiss. Now, removed slightly (but still a part of the action anyway) he could notice little details he'd normally miss. The cut of Eliot's lower lip. The slight flush to Parker's cheeks. The way Eliot's hand reached, stuttered to a stop, and then gently cupped her face, as if he was still surprised that he was allowed. And then how his hands grew firmer, more ardent when he remembered that he wasn't just allowed, but welcomed. The way Parker sometimes went perfectly still, as if she was cataloging each sensation in her mind, putting them away in mental lockboxes to turn over like diamonds at a later date.

Yeah, Hardison was distracted. Very much so.

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Just how Eliot wanted him!

Though his plan had backfired a little. Eliot himself was now also very distracted. He tried to shift forward again, only to find himself pinned down by Hardison's legs. The hand not against Parker's cheek flapped a bit in the air before finding its way to Hardison's thigh and slowly rubbing upwards.

Okay, new plan. Which likely would end up with him more tangled than anything else, but hey. He was flexible.

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Parker, meanwhile, was focused. Very focused. Hmm. Maybe Hardison could help her take off her shirt here?

Which would be when she got one arm out of one sleeve, the other arm out of the other sleeve, and made a flaily motion at Hardison that probably indicated he was supposed to lift that over her head here the next time she paused for breath, please and thank you.

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