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roseknightred · 2 years

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Santa’s Babies (OT3)

AO3

Ship: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer (Pre-Slash)

Fandom: Leverage | Missing Scene(s) from s5 e14 ‘The Toy Job’

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (for swearing and an implied bj)

Words: 7,571 (One-Shot)

~*~

The team is on another job.

Corrupt toy CEO this time.

A puppy plushie with a level 3 choking hazard of all things. Turns out the material its nose is made out of will expand significantly in contact with bodily fluids, risking infant deaths upon swallowing… And we all know it will get swallowed by some kid. 'Get that out of your mouth' is just as common a phrase to new parents as it is pet owners.

Eliot's even growled the phrase more times than he can count with Things 1 and 2 under his wings. Mostly in regards to the junk they try to pass off as food but the sentiment stands.

Parker's breaking into one of their vaults to get the safety inspection records but if Eldon was fired for not cooking the books chances are they just got someone else to do it instead.

Nate's voice brings him back to the conversation over coms, "I'm saying that we, ah, we went overboard on Christmas gifts last year."

"Nate, I love my Ecosse motorcycle from last Christmas. Compliments of my Santa-baby," the distinctive sound of Parker's drill starting up.

Eliot barely suppresses his eye roll. "You spent $100,000 on a motorcycle?" he hisses at Hardison next to him. It's not the money Eliot's frustrated about, though the 25 dollar Walmart waffle press he received stings just a tad stronger, it's the arrogant indulgence. Parker has perfectly functional bikes of varying calibers and in the year she's apparently had it he hasn't seen her use it once. With her obsession with money it's probably sitting uselessly in a vault, Hardison customizing aforementioned functional bikes for her anyway.

Speaking of customization, Hardison just continues to solder more equipment like it's a regular Tuesday and it's no different than knowing their coffee order. "Don't hate the gift. Hate the elf."

"I do hate the elf." Well, Eliot really really wants to hate the elf, but Parker deserves to be spoiled. They're good for eachother and Eliot shouldn't be judging.

It's not his place, he'll get over it.

"So, are you saying no Christmas presents at all? Not even something small?" To Parker, 'small' could mean anything form a lollipop to a diamond, and they'd yield the exact same positive response.

"No gifts," Nate stands his ground.

"But… How are we supposed to do Christmas without any presents?" Parker sounds like she'd about to genuinely get upset. Eliot hates the hurt tone in her voice.

He's about to crack and pipe in when Sophie beats him to it, "Let's just put a limit on spending."

Sounds like a reasonable compromise, if they weren't thieves who would just steal it anyway.

"Say $1,000 a…" she'd cut off by Nate pointedly clearing his throat.

"$100 a.." she tries to correct before cut off again.

"50 bucks a person." she rushes before anyone else can but in.

"Fine, whatever. I'm in," the conversation is well and over as Parker finishes up the heist, getting in and out with no trouble at all.

Eliot's just tired.

So he does what he always does when the teams finally safe and on standby until further notice, makes his way to the kitchen and distracts himself with fixing up the disaster that is Hardison's brew-pub menu ideas.

~*~

Yup, the books were rigged; unusable and irrelevant.

Nate cooks up a scheme with a rival toy, "We're gonna steal Christmas."

Parker ignores the Whirlie-Glee-Glee in retaliation but also because it just looks dumb. Even with her admittedly messed up childhood she'd never known a kid to get exited over a frisbee. Boomerang maybe. Eliot taught her how to use one of those when she asked if they'd really started out as weapons. He'd been very patient with her, never using the anger she knows he's struggled with. It was inspiring to finally let go of the anger she grew up with herself.

She finally understood what if felt like to be safe, that no matter how much she pushed those boundaries and anticipated that familiar anger, it never came. Family was never supposed to mean pain. Eliot would never be angry with her, even when she looked back and though he had the right to be. Maybe he'd had just as much trouble identifying and sharing emotions as she had.

She looks to the left of the Wobgly G-Whatever and knows, without a shadow of a doubt in her mind, 'This is it.' She wants 2. One for herself and one for Eliot's Christmas present. She can't cuddle him, since apparently that would be weird, or so she's pieced together from other interactions and similar topics in Hardison's coaching, but she can cuddle Mini-Eliot as much as she likes!

It ends up being the toy they feature in their con but she hopes the sentiment will translate all the same when she gets to present it to him in person.

Hardison thinks it's stupid, so for now she maintains that he's stupid. How dare he doubt her.

"Anything can be sold," Eliot defends her over the com, so she settles down for now. But it still hurts…

No Mini-Eliot cuddles for Hardison! He can cuddle Hardi, Parker 2.0 or whatever, this week.

~*~

"Look, it's happy. It's not so happy, but then it's happy again. It changes moods. It's pretty cool, right?"

Of course Nate would try to get the toy out there with the drug dealer approach. Because why the hell not. It's not like Eliot has been to this Farmer's Market before.

He couldn't look more like a stereotype, handing out free toys to random kids on the corner with his long hair, hoodie and rough appearance. He's generally pretty good with kids but today's just a bad day.

"No? Hey, here, take it. It's free." Any hesitation the girl had quickly evaporates as she takes the doll and excitedly shares with the other kids she sees.

He's cranky; he's uncomfortable. He's out here while the crew is talking as if he's not even there, because he's not.

He's just lonely.

They're already moving on, arranging the next steps in the con, things they don't need him for.

The dolls are all handed out and he's technically 'done' for now.

There's a cute Hawaiian kid working in one of the vendor stalls a little ways down. He'd passed by 4 times already, probably to see if Eliot was going to be a threat to their little market, but seems to have deemed him safe. Even sent a few stray kids his way toward the end there.

He caught Eliot looking his way and smiled shyly when he noticed the empty booth.

'To hell with it,' there's nothing wrong with Eliot taking a moment to his downtime.

He welcomes the distraction.

Making his way over with a suave smile Eliot peruses through what's left of the vegetable selection.

"Hey there," he maintains eye contact as he lightly teases his forefinger down the length of a rather girthy carrot. "What time you gettin off today handsome?"

"You tell me Sir," the young man boldly lets slip before blushing profusely and babbles a bit correcting himself. "I mean, I guess I'm almost done for the day. This is usually when the crowd dies out and there's usually some stuff left over that people didn't want when I pack up. Wh-what did you have in mind?"

"Shame to let it go to waste, I'll take the lot of it," Eliot finds the rambling cute and tries very hard not to let it remind him of another stuttering darker skinned young man. "What say you, wanna help me with my load?"

The double entendre isn't lost on him as Eliot notices pupils widening and plump lips parting with a hitched breath.

"T-totally," his grin widens to take over his whole face and nervously condense everything down in to two crates.

Eliot slides behind the booth and slip the cash into his back pocket, gently palming the soft globe. Before they can get distracted and in trouble for public indecency Eliot swiftly manhandles the larger of the crates, letting his arms flex more noticeably than necessary, leaving the tiny crate for his new friend. Swaying his hips Eliot walks a few feet in the direction of his car and does his best 'come hither' expression. The man nearly trips over himself in his haste to flow, almost forgetting the second crate.

"I'm Alex, by the way. Alex Parker."

'Oh fuck me!' Eliot decidedly Does Not Think About It.

"Carl," Eliot leaves it at that. He tries not to leave anything he can be looked up by but he's pretty sure that's the alias he's been using lately.

~*~

Alec throws himself into his paparazzo persona watching Sophie sneak the demented doll into Sandy Matteo's bag. He does not worry about Eliot's absent commentary. He's fine, the man can take care of himself. Hardison has work to do. He has to focus so that he doesn't miss his opportunity or his shots.

'There. Got em. Done. Time to go.'

He does not check his systems again for signal from Eliot's com. The seven previous checks were for everyone's coms and perfectly rational intervals. The mark's career used to be in weapons.

'Can't be too cautious.'

Eliot's own rule.

So where the hell is he? Surely the dolls had all been handed out by now.

~*~

Eliot's a gentlemen first and foremost. So once the produce is safely in his car he offers to help clean up Alex's booth and they put away all their equipment like the rest of the vendors as the market closes for the day.

Alex seems pleasantly surprised and loosens up a bit, not rushing for anything and enjoying each other's company.

Splitting for a moment in the parking lot, Eliot pulls around and picks Alex up to finally drive back to one of his places. He has four scattered around the city, all staged to appear lived in as he rotates which pantry to keep freshly filled.

He rushes around to the other side after parking to open the door as he had when picking Alex up, receiving a gentle kiss for his efforts. The tension builds as they navigate around the entry way and down the fall., exchanging heated glances and more daring touches.

By the time Eliot's door is closed and locked behind them they're pressed flush against eachother.

He's long since turned off his com but his phone volume is up in case there's an emergency. No one's contacted him yet and he plans to take his time. He might look like a flirt around his team or on a job but it's been months since he's had the pleasure of taking care of someone.

He can't even recall the last time he'd gotten off but it's never really been about that. He's given out so much pain in his life, he can only balance it out by giving pleasure.

It's like an itch.

The one addiction he can't seem to curb.

Doesn't really want to.

Doesn't want to think either, so he doesn't.

He turns 'Eliot Brain' off and 'Carl' sinks to his knees, as easily as breathing. Breathing in the musk of the arousal he's caused. The pleasure he eager to give.

~*~

They're all back in the office after another day of grinding their gears. Plotting and conning and all the meticulous prep work Alec prides himself in providing for his family.

Their numbers still aren't high enough.

"Santa's little helper here is right. The doll's a bust," Eliot still sounds a little stand-off-ish but not nearly as bad as he had before the Farmer's Market so at least there's that.

Alec refuses to ask where he went afterwards and no clues have presented themselves.

"Whirlie stupid thing would have done worse," Parker on the other hand is sounding more irritated but the minute. She's stood unusually strongly about her doll.

He get's it that she's got some trauma and stuff going on upstairs but he can't get the memory of the fallen look off her face when she tried to present a second doll to Eliot in person but he'd already headed out for the night. Usually they finished off long nights with him cooking for them and escorting them to either Parker's warehouse or Hardison's penthouse suite; but that night they'd been left to fend for themselves.

"And you're an expert on this because?"

"GUYS!" Even distracted with the con Nate tried to cut the atmosphere.

"Because I was there. It spoke to me!"

"It spoke to you?"

"It reminded me of a toy my social worker used to make me do exercises with."

"You kidding me with that?"

"Oh, like you always do what you're supposed to?" Sophie didn't like the new tension either.

"E-exercises... What kind of exercises?" Nate redirects.

"Identifying emotions or something like that."

Well now Alec felt like shit. It made so much sense now. He could see the lightbulb go off in Eliot's head and winced in sympathy.

There's no way his self-sabotaging ass isn't going to add this to whatever redemption list he's compiled.

Alec won't even be mad when his anticipated steak dinner get's replaced with Parker's favorite Eggplant Lasagna tonight. Maybe they can put on one of her Christmas movies and crash on his couch, reconnect and make it up to her. Lord knows those two need all the anger-healing bonding opportunities they can get.

It's a different lightbulb that goes off in Nate's head. "That’s it. That's it. It's obvious. We can't con a 6-year-old. You know who we can con? Their parents. Okay, so, Hardison you get on that lecture thing, Eliot you get on the mommies," and the con evolves.

"And he doesn't mean that literally," Hardison can't help himself, trying not to sound bitter.

"That joke is never funny," Eliot sounds angry again as he gets up to storm out. There's something in his tone but Hardison can't place it.

"It's always funny."

"No, it's not. Comedy's about timing, and you don't have it!"

Good thing Hardison's studied early childhood development in the past, he's about to need it.

~*~

Right. Cause that's apparently who he is in the others' eyes.

Just a horndog. No self control. Not able to understand the directions Nate gives him.

It was One stinking time!

'Take them out Eliot.'

'Like, on a date or …?'

Eliot storms down to the kitchen on autopilot.

Basil. Ricotta. Tomatoes. Eggplant.

His consciousness resurfaces to the setting of a timer and dish safely in the oven.

Hands absent of further distraction.

Picking up a knife Eliot goes through the motions of a meditative exercise. He keeps his movements fluid and practices techniques to pass the time while his mind is already planning arrangements to make it up to Parker. He didn't stick around to walk them home after the long night stealing the toy and he regrets that now. He just needed the night alone. He was torn, defend her interest and initiative was basically rewarding disobedient behavior when his training demanded she stick to the plan.

Divergence was messy and risky.

He'd had the urge to spread her across his lap for a spanking.

There was no way he'd let himself carry out that thought, so he nipped the impulse in the bud and left.

Looking back he wouldn't be surprised if his counselors had tried to use something similar with him. Then again he got enough shit for his 'feminine interests' like cooking, tailoring and medicine. Relevant skills he'd defended himself but he'd still been forced into sports, history and mechanics. He didn't mind them and they'd all proved useful; he still wishes he'd at least had a say in it.

By the time the young couple made it to his kitchen he'd just finished setting the table.

It was a rather quiet affair with everyone deep in thought.

Parker's mood seemed to lift somewhat with her favorite dish.

Hardison didn't make a peep about the routine dinner selection's change, probably anticipated it long before Eliot even decided. Smartass.

When they'd finished Hardison quickly took over cleanup without any prompting, pointedly declining offers to help.

Eliot took the opportunity to pull Parker in for a hug, physical comfort being something new they had both been slowly warming up to.

"Wanna talk about it?" he gently asked into her temple.

Shaking her head slightly she gave him a small smile. "I think you get it," she whispered back.

He spotted Hardison observing from the doorway, kitchen and table clean, lights ready to be turned off for the night. Waited for the moment to end he prompted, "Movie night? My vote's on Elf."

Parker's eyes lit up further as she dragged Eliot with her through the door. With each of the boy's hands in one of hers, no one let go the whole way there.

With credits rolling and twin snores coming from his chest-turned-pillow Eliot let himself relax.

It wasn't a good position for either to stay in long but he could wait and carry them each to bed after his 90 minutes of shut-eye.

'It's so right. It' not enough. It's too much.'

He'll take what he can get.

If he happened to stay knocked out for roughly 150 minutes, well that's no one's business but his own.

~*~

Hardison wakes up slowly and groggily. Parker curled up on his left with the demented baby-doll sandwiched between them.

His heart stops momentarily in fear that the doll has eaten and replaced Eliot between them before his brain catches up with his nose. Coffee and turkey bacon.

He and Parker's stomachs let out simultaneous loud gurgles that wake the blonde up.

"Morning," she whispers into his lips before her head swivels around in search of something. Not finding whatever it is in his room she drops a quick kiss to the dolls cheek and darts off the bathroom to start her morning routine.

He doesn't know why he's still laying there, basically cuddling the doll but he is.

Waking himself up further he makes the bed, tucking the thing in since he thinks it'll make Parker happy, he then makes his way down to the kitchen in nothing but his sweats.

He doesn't remember changing but it's not the first time Eliot's taken some liberties after they've fallen asleep on him. He originally thought the line about only sleeping 90 minutes a day was bullshit but turns out the guy was rounding up for their sake. It was more like 40 any time Hardison caught him and accidently woke him up breathing too loud from another room altogether.

Speaking of liberties, looks like the laundry has been done, plants watered, den put back together and local news playing lowly from one of the speakers.

Megabyte walked, fed and sleeping soundly by the door to his room. The dog somehow has already learned that he won't be getting table scraps and instead guards over him while Eliot and Parker are preoccupied.

Alec really wishes he could get them to move in already.

He gets that they need their own safehouses for peace of mind and all that but he never feels this settled and complete when he wakes up alone or to his admittedly horrible housekeeping habits.

He's gotten a set of drawers and closet space set aside for things Parker's left over and Eliot has 2 emergency bags, one in the closet one in the back of the secluded garage unit. There's a drawer dedicated to nothing but new, unopened, toothbrushes in the bathroom since both of them are weird about letting 'theirs' out of their 'sights'. The kitchen is pretty much off limits to the couple in fear they'd burn down all the hard work stealthily customized for the brute. The ventilation shafts were one of the first things he'd looked into before signing.

He may or may not have put the lease in the names of each of their three aliases, it's not like they pay that close attention to his paperwork anyway. He'd be insulted if the blind faith didn't do funny things to his chest.

He doesn't even care how long the day is about to get, the morning was perfect enough to carry his good mood through.

Or… so he thought.

~*~

"All right, cut," Eliot turns off the camera after Hardison's educational bit. "Dude, how do you come up with this crap?" He'd be impressed if he wasn't avoiding the 'Hardison will make a good dad - wait that means Parker would be a mom - who would I be to them' train(wreck) of thought.

"I studied early-childhood development. Look, man. Video's done. I make it seem like I'm talking to hundreds, upload it to the blogger mom sites, we're good to go."

"Dude, the blogger moms?" He knew it was gonna come up, Nate told them the plan last night. It was going to continue being a thing, doesn't mean he's looking forward to it.

"Yes, blogger moms. They talk about parenthood, schools, life at home. You get one of these sites to endorse you, your toy's gonna go viral. Trust me."

So not helping avoiding the 'Hardison's gonna be a good parent' topic.

An example of said blog is brought up with an attractive enough woman in the profile.

"That's a blogger mom?" he can't help but ask, not because she'd pretty, even though she is, but because of her eyes. She doesn't look tired, or proud; just like she knows she'd pretty and that's enough to give her a platform. The cheerleading job was enough to remind him that that's all that people really need, unfortunately, but with what he's seen his life he wouldn't give her the time of day for any level of credibility. Maybe not even an avocado toast recipe.

"Ah, Chardonnay Mom? Yeah, that's Allie Stanbrook. She runs one of the top blogger sites in the nation. She's local, too. PDX, baby," there's something in Hardison's tone that suggests he's on the same page as Eliot about her but when he looks over it's obviously not that.

Chardonnay Mom? Yeah, he can see her towing the line between believable caretaker and wine-snob.

Here we go, not like he has many choices here.

"All right, look, listen to me, if I'm gonna do this, all right, I want to be tough dad. You know what I mean? Cool dad. Just enough to turn her head. Don't go overboard on this. Keep it simple. You know, someone who's not afraid to make a PB&J, but still wants to go out in the yard, get dirty, kick the soccer ball around. Strict... but fair."

He's projecting, he knows it.

But my god he can't avoid the downward spiral of his thoughts.

If Hardison and Parker ever do want kids, that's the kind of uncle he want to be.

~*~

"After my wife passed, it was, um, it was very tough for me and my son, Dashiel, to communicate."

Well, it's been hard for him to communicate. Period. Let alone with the two adults he's unceremoniously adopted, but the best lies lie closest to the truth. Even if the imaginary kid's name is a nightmare in and of itself.

"But, that's when Baby Feels-A-Lot came into our lives. And, yeah, listen, don't get me wrong. I’m-I'm one of those dads, I had a problem with my son playing with a doll. But… I'll tell you something. It worked. We were talking again. You know, we were father and son. And I felt the duty. I had to get this out there. I had to let the other dads know what this product did for us. So, I started a blog."

Well, Hardison started a blog, and put his face on it.

Eliot feels creepy talking to these women. They all have kids, those kids have fathers, and they're looking at him like they want more. They think that he'll be for their kids what he appears to be for his own. And the widower persona hits a little too close to home remembering his own dad.

There's no way he'd have lived in an area like this growing up. He doesn't think he'd want to. One of their kids is probably name Skyler or Fennel or some crap. Sam. Sam was a good name for Nate to choose.

They still don't know what Parker's birth name is, and that's fine with him. He doesn't know if Alec is short for anything either. It's kind of Sophie's thing that Nate doesn't know her name, or pretends not to?

He's never thought one way or the other on his own. He tried to go by Spencer for a bit but felt to militaria.

Eliot doesn't even know why he's thinking about it.

It's never been a problem before, not since high school.

Since Aimee…

'Time to go.'

~*~

Alec can't believe this is his life right now. Sending Eliot off to mingle, and probably hook up flirt with the Desperate Housewives of Portland while he stews at his computer over what kind of parent Eliot would make.

Not just think about it, write it.

He listened to the few directions Eliot gave him, he swears he did. It was said with such conviction, like he'd been thinking about it. Like he wanted it.

Alec wanted it for him too one day, he does.

But selfishly he doesn't.

That would mean letting him leave.

Be something else for someone else.

Would he still protect and coddle he and Parker?

He knows they'd stay in touch, that they're stuck with eachother. He already had the schematics set aside and started for their next lives together as robots. Even though Eliot said he didn't want it, he's getting it.

Alec always knew he'd have kids one day.

Multiple, whether they were little carbon copies of himself or adopted like he was.

But now he has Parker, and they actually have to talk about those kinds of things.

'Fuck. Does Parker even want kids one day? It's a big enough deal she sees them as family now. Focus! Stew later, blog now.'

So he starts to reminisce about the father he wanted. The man missing from his life until Nate and Eliot came along.

He thinks about the adventures they've already been on, like finally trying the sandwich named after the guy after his evolution into loving baseball. It was almost as good as the sandwich he stole out the fridge so long ago. The one he thought was made for him after realizing how close attention Eliot paid to each of their preferences.

Firmly pushing any identity confusion into the 'never to be touched' folder of his mega-brain, Hardison let's the words flow freely.

It's an emotional roller-coaster, knowing that the team will be reading this, but it's also freeing. An outlet he didn't realize he needed right now. There are several entries he locks away not to ever be shared but he eventually edits it down into creative entries that highlight Eliot as he would be.

In another life. One untainted by the violence of his past.

'If only they'd met far sooner.'

Indulging himself with gummy frogs and orange soda Eliot's voice echoes in his head.

That they're not food.

That food is life and he needs to care more about what he's doing to his body.

He doesn't notice he can't finish the bag, replacing the urge for more by sucking on his thumb in between typing sessions.

He's barefoot, last year's Christmas present wrapped securely around his shoulders. A black and blue blanket Eliot had obviously crocheted himself, even if he hadn't verified the fact. Megabyte curled up on his right and Baby-Feels-A-Lot in his lap.

It's growing on him, sue him.

Parker pointed out how similar his scowl was to Eliot after he caught her calling it Mini-Eliot and now he can't un-see it.

Blogs posted and queued up Alec remains in his little bubble for a while, enjoying the floaty headspace he's slipped into while it lasts. Soon they'll be back on the grind and this will all have been just another project for the job. They'll move on and forget he'd blended up his projection of 'Future Parent Eliot' with 'Father He Never Got to Have' all balanced and stuck to stern but protective 'Daddy Eliot' caricature.

Trying not to startle himself into being big enough to analyze any of that Alec cuddles his doggy and his girlfriend's dolly and falls into an uneasy sleep.

~*~

"Okay, I've written 3 months' worth of blogs for our sensitive dad over here. I got prices for the braces, Dashiel's chess club…" Alec still feels a little out of it after his impromptu nap earlier but the change of scenery into the office and Nate's intense presence help pull him back.

"You put in there we went to the Super Bowl?" Eliot sounds incredulous. Why? They were supposed to go together before job got in the way. Alec suspects he wasn't supposed to know Eliot had gotten them tickets but what did he expect when Alec was the wizard behind their identities and finances. It even helped him build a few files on Eliot's mysterious 'buddies.'

"Oh, yeah, man, yeah. You even met some of the players. Now, what I was thinking... Tell me what you feel. Ah, you guys go on like a-a road trip cross-country, you do a tour, something like that." Parker will still want to jump off of stuff but Eliot's been trying to get him to go camping. This is kind of his way of breaking down and agreeing to go, without the humiliation of actually having to say it.

"Yeah, I like that. I like that. Or... And I'm just gonna put this out there... What if I took him on a tour of all the ball parks in America? Hardison, huh? Or maybe took him to the opera or the moon, huh? Believable father-and-son stuff!"

"A little focus," Nate tries to intervene.

"Look at the picture he used, man!"

'What's wrong with the picture?!' It's one of Alec's favorites. He barely has any pictures of Eliot's truly infectious smile. He feels himself bristle and get defensive. He's not in the place he needs to be to have this conversation. It's like dry ice being pursed down the back of his shirt in less than 3 seconds flat.

"Hey, hey. Excuse me, man. I'm sorry if this kind of writing opens me up creatively. I'm stuck looking at codes all day. Maybe I was writing the father that I wanted one day," woops. He stutters to carry on, "What's the problem with getting emotionally butt naked?" Please shut him up!

"Oh, please, don't. Please, we-we don't want to see that," Nate's presence is both a blessing and a curse.

"I'm trying to share my feelings on paper," Hardison lets that be his final piece.

"Please, please don't. Now listen, Hardison, I'm very happy with your creativity and everything, but what I want to know is, what do you have on the blogger moms about Eliot?"

'Whoop-da-dee-fucking-doo…'

"Oh, what did the mamas say? Oh, what are they saying about the sensitive dad? I got something for you. I got something for your ass," he pulls up the tabs he couldn't bring himself to close after reading. "Boom. Chardonnay Mama. She cute, though, ain't she fine? Look what she says. 'Oh, this week, I was introduced to an amazing new toy called Baby Feels-A-Lot, thanks to a gentleman who couldn't be more kind, more handsome, or more sensitive single dad.' You don't deserve none of that!" Hardison pointedly ignores Eliot preening. It's usually kind of cute but today it just sucks.

"Now how are we doing with the toy's popularity?" Nate moves the conversation along.

"Saturation indexes are ticking up 'cause I did my job."

And just like that they're moving on to Sophie's update.

~*~

The job wrapped up rather nicely. Hazlit publicly humiliated, dangerous toy not going to market, Eldon getting his dream job. Eliot even got to avoid the blogger moms, only reaching out for the safety study and basically labeling himself celibate when their interest pressed past his boundaries.

Eliot watched Parker play with another of the same doll. He and Hardison had been given their own for Christmas, "Promise me those things will never hit store shelves."

"Ah, I'm keeping them all to myself. I've got them lined up in my warehouse like an army of joy and rage."

"You don't ever want to be in that warehouse alone. Ever," Eliot doesn't doubt that for a second, thinking back to wonder when Hardison might have been. Parker's still very peculiar about the privacy of her things.

"I think it's really sad that we're so cynical about gifts. I used to, ah, I loved Christmas as a child," a nostalgic warmth spreads across Sophie's face.

"Yeah, well, nothing's genuine anymore," Eliot can't help himself from pointing out.... rather hypocritically.

"That's not true, no. I've been thinking about this, and yo-you know what is genuine? Trust."

"Trust?" Parker sounds so confused. Poor thing's struggled with trust is no secret to the room.

"Yes, trust. I think, no, seriously. I think we should give each other some trust for Christmas."

"What, like that exercise where you fall back and someone catches you?"

"No, not like that."

"Good, because I did that once, and I dropped the person, and they had to get stitches."

"Still hurts."

"I know."

Eliot winces in sympathy, he'd been the one to administer the stitches.

It wasn't a few, over a small area. It was 11 down the back of his shoulder, 3 blending in with his eyebrow and 5 in the left V of his hip. They still wont tell him 'where' they'd tried it.

"I just think that, well, we've been through so much together, all of us, and we should give each other something personal this year, like, um, I don't know, a story or a secret."

Does he really need to be here for this? Eliot looks at his empty wrist pretending to check the time. Like he's got anywhere to be after this besides another movie night at Hardison's.

Thing is, he still got them presents.

Not everybody, but he saw them displayed in the window while they'd been out and couldn't help himself. He knows they'd been bummed and stressing over the 'Stealing Christmas' mess. What was he supposed to do? Continue watching the frown? He'd rather chop off hit foot with a spoon. But that's for later.

"No, come on. Bear with me, please. Please. Who's gonna go first?"

"Eliot."

'Really Parker?' Eliot can't help puffing out his chest a little bit, of course she saw the opportunity and snatched it.

Nate takes the 'head of the table' role upon himself to go first. Eliot doesn't let it bother him since he is kind of like a surrogate parent to the couple with Sophie having made the suggestion.

"All right. When I was a kid, I wanted a trumpet one Christmas. My father played Sinatra all the time, and, ah, Sinatra had this trumpet player named 'Sweets' Edison, Harry 'Sweets' Edison. Great sound, amazing. I wanted to sound just like him, you know? Christmas rolled around, and, ah, there was no trumpet, just a pack of baseball cards. My father said that Santa must have had a-a rough year at the track. So, there's... Anyway, a couple of days later, I wake up in my bed, and at the foot of the bed is, ah, is a trumpet. It's all tarnished and dinged up, my dad probably rolled somebody for it, but-but there it is. And I, ah, I played that trumpet every day for 10 years. You know, I never, I never ah, ended up sounding like ah, 'Sweets' Edison, but…"

Hardison looks down and Eliot want Nate to finish up so they can move on.

"So, I gave it to, um, I gave it to Sam on his 8th birthday."

Now Parker's looking down. Does he not see what reminding them of the child he's pretending to replace with them does? How fucked up it is? They probably don't even realize they're trying to live up to the ghostly parody of a dead 8 year old.

"And that was, um, his, um, first trumpet lesson was scheduled for the day, as it turns out, that he went into the hospital. And I, so, he… I don't have anything left from my childhood, but I did keep the trumpet. I keep it on the boat."

Sophie looks sad but Eliot can't tell if it's the atmosphere that's been created or sympathy for the man she loves. Maybe both. He get's it, kinda, but the guy could at least acknowledge that they don't have to be his replacement. That he's still proud of them as they are.

"Okay, who's next?" Eliot hold his tongue and instead settles on a story that'll bring the mood back, lest Sophie start waxing poetic about Fort Devereaux or some shit.

"I've got a nephew," Eliot bites the bullet before he can chicken out.

All eyes around the table snap to him and jaws hit the floor.

"Sorta," Eliot closes his eyes and leans back as if to look through the ceiling. "J named me their son's godfather just a few months before that first job. It's why I'd tried to retire before Dubenich sent me that offer. One last score before goin straight, or as close to it as I would have let myself get. Set up a nice college fund. I still touch base maybe once a year. Never on a holiday and never on a birthday. But if anything happens to me, I trust him with you." He makes sure to look both Hardison and Parker dead in the eyes with his final statement. Leave himself open, just for a moment, to let the sincerity and desperation shine through. Prove to them that they're enough, that they're perfect the way they are.

They may live in the shadows as thieves but he won't let them live in the shadows of the dead.

They're the light he'd once lost.

And one of these day, he will die to protect them.

~*~

Parker's too choked up to share much, not even sure she's doing this trust thing right.

"I blew up my house once to get back my bunny. They said to either be a better kid, or a better thief. It's obvious which one I chose." She's quiet and a little scared, but Eliot reaches below the table to squeeze her hand and she thinks she sees pride in his eyes. "He… He's snuggled up in the middle of my money, in one of my vaults."

She did it.

She said it.

And she'd not going to lose them over it.

The same feeling she has when she's jumping blooms in her chest.

She's freefalling and knows she's safe.

She… She thinks it's safe to retrieve bunny, and let him snuggle between Mini Eliot and Hardi.

~*~

Hardison feels emotionally wrung out. First the blogging, and the accidental little-space and now this. He knows little-space is what happened the other day, it'd happened before but not that deep in a long long time. It's almost what he shares, he's dying to freely be as little as Parker sometimes lets off. But not here, Not 'yet'.

Instead, "Hell… I've been arrested in drag."

Sophie sprays Nate in the face with the water she'd been sipping.

He chuckles a bit and reminisces, "It was actually the highlight of my night. I'd gone out to this nightclub but had already been banned for 'stealing peoples cards' even though it's not my fault the bartenders couldn't remember who was who and each one thought I was a different person. I hope they got to keep the generous tips! Anyway, I liked the place and wanted to go back, decided to experiment. Turns out I was pretty convincing until I opened my damn mouth. Not too tolerant for what later turned into a gay bar. The cop that came on shift later that night was cute and asked me to teach him how I did my eyeliner. They'd accidently mixed me in with the girls cell and we had a good ol time. I think one of em left their abusive ex and settled down with eyeliner cop's partner."

He'd avoided eye contact through the whole reveal but looking around now, he couldn't suppress his grin at the variety of responses.

Parker seemed cool with it, as if it were no different than saying 'I didn't wear green on St. Patty's, what A rebel.'

Nate looked similar to when he'd tried the first beer he'd tried to brew but wasn't disgusted. More like he was going down memory lane looking for clues he'd obviously missed. A blow to his mastermind ego but not uncomfortable.

Sophies face was brighter than the Christmas tree Parker put up in his den, and the building's electricity bill had effectively doubled that day.

'Oh god! I've just doubled the opportunity of characters for her to write! I should have gone with the little-space reveal, or that he's got a new foster sister that's trying to rival him on the web, or lie about a tattoo…'

He looks to Eliot for help and…. He thinks he broke Eliot.

~*~

Sophie better pipe the fuck up before Eliot does something very inappropriate!

His lips are dry and his vision has zeroed in on Hardison's features, imagination spinning. He sees mascara and blush and lip gloss and long legs propped up and crossed as a dress skirt teasingly falls up to reveal shaven thighs. Heels. Hardison is already taller than him, everybody is, but in heels he'd tower over him. And fearless Parker would climb that like the Empire State Building. Freefalling for him to catch and sandwich between them….

'SOPHIE?!'

His soul sister finally comes to his rescue, "Tara and I first met pretending to be lovers. My cover had gotten really rocky and in walks this confident hot blonde, just my mark's type. So I rushed over and kissed her, praying she'd play along. She did, far more effectively than I was ready for, and without any prior coordination we'd convinced everyone we would have been married by then had the laws been different. Our backstories were a little rocky at first but was easily covered up with the 'having a story for the closet' excuse. We immediately got competitive once we figured out eachother were grifters, but it took a few weeks to 'come out' as it were."

That actually makes way more sense than he wants it to. No wonder Tara was so particular when judging Nate.

Eliot finds his footing again and beams around the table. This was actually a pretty good idea.

And Nate's face was PRICELESS!

"Merry Christmas you guys."

~*~

Parker and Hardison wait (im)patiently on the couch. No sooner had they made it through the front door had Eliot pointed to the couch and told them to sit and wait a moment before disappearing into the attached garage unit. Tonight feels like a fever dream, like any moment now they'll wake up in the middle of March to go after a new mark, business as usual.

They don't want to wake up.

Before their nerves become too much, out walks Eliot, in the Santa suit!

Hardison is so glad he put security cameras in the den. He WILL have pictures, videos, of this!

Parker wiggles excitedly by his side.

Rolling his eyes and opening the Santa Sack he passes them each a perfectly wrapped box. His is blue with a black ribbon and Parker's is green with a red ribbon.

They each scoot to a side and pull the man down between them, waiting patiently for the go ahead.

Hardison's already given them their upgraded phones and personalized art pieces. After all the forgeries he's done they encouraged him they'd cherish his original work as well should he chose to pursue it. He doesn't really remember what he gave Eliot last year but he hopes he'd like it.

Parker gave them each a sketch she's made from memory how the three of them looked when they first met. He plans to mount it either over the fireplace or in the master bedroom.

Reclining back with his legs splaying out and arms resting behind them across the couch cushions, the hitter waves his hand in a smug 'what are you waiting for' gesture.

It's a race to open theirs first but happy tears spring to their eyes as they look inside.

Wood carvings stare back at them.

Beautiful mahogany whittled and grooved and polished to display a small wolf pack.

Three wolves encompass the majority of the center, two playfully teasing the third while he stands vigilant, tails wagging. What are presumably the alpha pair in the background watching fondly and a variety of animals mixed in with the surrounding foliage. The forest community if-you-will.

The pair look to eachother in wonder, turning to the man between them and reaffirm then and there:

They're never letting him go.

They don't think he'd mind.

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