(no subject)
Title: The Birthday Rule
Characters: Parker, Eliot (I know you said Het, luveskane, but it just wouldn't go that way for me...)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1330
Summary: Eliot falls victim to Parker's ideas on the way birthdays should be.
Author's Notes: Written for luveskane's prompt "Parker gives Eliot a gift". Even though I had about a dozen ideas for this one, I fell hard for the schmoopy one.
Beer and a blonde. Or a brunette, depending on the field. Never a redhead, though…too painful.
It was how Eliot had spent his birthday every year since leaving home. Sappy, intimate celebrations with songs and hats and presents had never been his style - and it was just easier to head to the nearest sports bar, get a good buzz going, and find a nice looking woman willing to make sure he didn’t spend the night alone.
This year’s candidate was Allie - a paralegal from a firm in downtown Boston who’d been slumming in the South End with some girlfriends. Flirting had been light and easy, and Eliot had no problem convincing her to ditch her friends for the promise of breakfast in the morning.
“You smell good,” she giggled, hanging on his shoulder while he tried to fit his apartment key in the lock.
Eliot snorted. “I smell like cheap beer and cigar smoke. So do you.” He got the key in position, but then Allie lightly bit the muscle where his neck curved down into the slope of his shoulder and he completely lost his train of thought. He let her work her magic for a few minutes, then turned the key and they stumbled through the door together.
He couldn’t explain how he knew something was wrong. It was instinct - an awareness of the energy of his apartment - that defied logic or spoken language. “Hold on darlin’,” he said, taking Allie firmly by the arm and moving her a few steps away from him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sobering immediately. Eliot appreciated that she’d picked up on his change of mood. Brains weren’t a requirement for his birthday hook-ups, but the fact that Allie had one in addition to her more physical charms moved her squarely into the category of someone he’d be interested in spending more time with.
First things first, he reminded himself. What’s happened here? What’s different? He turned a slow circle, mentally taking inventory of the room. Lock wasn’t disturbed…artwork’s still in place…
He froze, staring at the surface of his wet bar. A plate had been set there. On the plate was a misshapen brown lump that he never would have taken for a cake if it hadn’t been for the assortment of candles and plastic figures that decorated the surface.
Grinning in spite of himself, he went to the bar. The plastic figures were tiny toy horses - a bay, two blacks, and a palomino. “Happy Birthday Eliot” had been picked out on the lumpy icing in colored sugar crystals.
Allie came up behind him, slipping her arms around his neck. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek.
Eliot gently pulled free. “Yeah, it is,” he admitted. “And I think my family’s trying to tell me something about ditching out on them.” He exhaled softly. “I’m sorry…”
It took her a moment to catch on, but to her credit Allie maintained her composure. “Yeah…yeah. I get it. Family’s important.” She leaned in to him and gently kissed Eliot on the cheek. “Rain check?”
“You know it.” His smile was genuine now - relieved that she had taken his change in mood so easily. “I’ve got your number; maybe we can do something this weekend?”
“Up to you,” she said, smiling sweetly.
He saw her to the door, even going so far as to push her gently against the door jamb and kiss her good-bye as thoroughly as he could. The promise in her eyes as they said their final farewells was that he’d just passed on one hell of a good time, and if he was smart he’d call her as soon as possible.
Eliot took the time to throw all the locks on the door, even though it was clearly pointless where a certain blond-haired thief was concerned. He went to the bar, grabbed the cake, and headed for his kitchen. “I’ve got some ice cream,” he said, pitching his voice a bit louder than normal conversational level.
Parker was waiting for him in the kitchen. “Vanilla?” she asked.
He nodded, setting the cake down under the dish cupboards and reaching for plates. “It’s in the freezer,” he said - indicating with a small jerk of his head that she should get it.
She set it on the counter next to him, and held out one of his larger kitchen knives. Grinning in spite of himself, he took the knife, set it aside, and retrieved a more reasonable sized one for the job.
“Did you make this?” he asked, indicating the cake with the point of his knife.
The thief nodded, looking surprisingly self-conscious. “Nate said we shouldn’t bother you if you didn’t want a birthday party…”
Eliot wasn’t surprised that the rest of the team knew his birthday - Hardison can’t leave well enough alone. “So why did you?” he asked. Of all of them, Parker was the one most likely to take Nate’s word as gospel - the fact that she’d defied him in such a small but significant way was weirdly touching.
Parker stared at him as though she couldn’t believe the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Everybody’s supposed to have a cake on their birthday,” she said. “It’s like…a rule or something.”
Huh. Eliot stared at the cake again. He knew in his gut that it was probably going to taste awful, but he would have shot himself before ever admitting it to Parker. Acting on pure impulse, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. “I want to remember what it looked like,” he admitted. “Before we ate it.”
The two of them were quiet for a while, working - Eliot cut two pieces and put them on plates. Parker added a generous scoop of vanilla gelato to each slice, before putting the ice cream away. Eliot took a moment to wash up the knife and scoop while Parker carried both plates to his kitchen table.
“So,” Eliot said, taking the seat across from Parker, “if it's a rule, did you have many birthday cakes when you were a kid?” He took a bite of the cake mixed with a generous portion of ice cream. Wow, he thought, trying not to grimace. It was just as bad as he’d feared.
Parker had an odd expression on her face. “I don’t have a birthday,” she said, finally. “One of my foster fathers said that my real parents lied about when I was born.”
Eliot forced himself to swallow his mouthful, trying not to scowl. Parker was always so matter-of-fact about her past that it was hard to remember getting upset on her behalf only served to make her feel more self-conscious and awkward. “Nobody ever told you a date?” he asked. He supposed given Parker’s history that it made sense she’d never had a birthday party or even a cake - but it was inconceivable to him that she had no clear idea of even when the date was.
“I have four dates,” she said. “No idea which one’s right. My one foster dad said that if he didn’t know the real day there was no point in wasting the money on a party.”
Eliot took another bite of cake and ice cream, thinking about the simple conviction in Parker’s assertion that everyone deserved a cake on their birthday. “You know,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I think there’s room in my birthday for two of us. If you don’t mind sharing, that is?”
Her eyes were suddenly over-bright. “We need milk,” she said quickly, getting up from the table. “You have milk, right?”
Smiling slightly, Eliot made himself ignore Parker rummaging in his cupboards - focusing on choking down his cake until she returned to the table with two of his best crystal goblets. Each one was about half-full of milk.
Eliot took the one she offered him, and gently clinked it against her glass. “Happy birthday, Eliot,” she said, smiling at him.
His own grin widened. “Happy birthday, Parker.”
Characters: Parker, Eliot (I know you said Het, luveskane, but it just wouldn't go that way for me...)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1330
Summary: Eliot falls victim to Parker's ideas on the way birthdays should be.
Author's Notes: Written for luveskane's prompt "Parker gives Eliot a gift". Even though I had about a dozen ideas for this one, I fell hard for the schmoopy one.
Beer and a blonde. Or a brunette, depending on the field. Never a redhead, though…too painful.
It was how Eliot had spent his birthday every year since leaving home. Sappy, intimate celebrations with songs and hats and presents had never been his style - and it was just easier to head to the nearest sports bar, get a good buzz going, and find a nice looking woman willing to make sure he didn’t spend the night alone.
This year’s candidate was Allie - a paralegal from a firm in downtown Boston who’d been slumming in the South End with some girlfriends. Flirting had been light and easy, and Eliot had no problem convincing her to ditch her friends for the promise of breakfast in the morning.
“You smell good,” she giggled, hanging on his shoulder while he tried to fit his apartment key in the lock.
Eliot snorted. “I smell like cheap beer and cigar smoke. So do you.” He got the key in position, but then Allie lightly bit the muscle where his neck curved down into the slope of his shoulder and he completely lost his train of thought. He let her work her magic for a few minutes, then turned the key and they stumbled through the door together.
He couldn’t explain how he knew something was wrong. It was instinct - an awareness of the energy of his apartment - that defied logic or spoken language. “Hold on darlin’,” he said, taking Allie firmly by the arm and moving her a few steps away from him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sobering immediately. Eliot appreciated that she’d picked up on his change of mood. Brains weren’t a requirement for his birthday hook-ups, but the fact that Allie had one in addition to her more physical charms moved her squarely into the category of someone he’d be interested in spending more time with.
First things first, he reminded himself. What’s happened here? What’s different? He turned a slow circle, mentally taking inventory of the room. Lock wasn’t disturbed…artwork’s still in place…
He froze, staring at the surface of his wet bar. A plate had been set there. On the plate was a misshapen brown lump that he never would have taken for a cake if it hadn’t been for the assortment of candles and plastic figures that decorated the surface.
Grinning in spite of himself, he went to the bar. The plastic figures were tiny toy horses - a bay, two blacks, and a palomino. “Happy Birthday Eliot” had been picked out on the lumpy icing in colored sugar crystals.
Allie came up behind him, slipping her arms around his neck. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek.
Eliot gently pulled free. “Yeah, it is,” he admitted. “And I think my family’s trying to tell me something about ditching out on them.” He exhaled softly. “I’m sorry…”
It took her a moment to catch on, but to her credit Allie maintained her composure. “Yeah…yeah. I get it. Family’s important.” She leaned in to him and gently kissed Eliot on the cheek. “Rain check?”
“You know it.” His smile was genuine now - relieved that she had taken his change in mood so easily. “I’ve got your number; maybe we can do something this weekend?”
“Up to you,” she said, smiling sweetly.
He saw her to the door, even going so far as to push her gently against the door jamb and kiss her good-bye as thoroughly as he could. The promise in her eyes as they said their final farewells was that he’d just passed on one hell of a good time, and if he was smart he’d call her as soon as possible.
Eliot took the time to throw all the locks on the door, even though it was clearly pointless where a certain blond-haired thief was concerned. He went to the bar, grabbed the cake, and headed for his kitchen. “I’ve got some ice cream,” he said, pitching his voice a bit louder than normal conversational level.
Parker was waiting for him in the kitchen. “Vanilla?” she asked.
He nodded, setting the cake down under the dish cupboards and reaching for plates. “It’s in the freezer,” he said - indicating with a small jerk of his head that she should get it.
She set it on the counter next to him, and held out one of his larger kitchen knives. Grinning in spite of himself, he took the knife, set it aside, and retrieved a more reasonable sized one for the job.
“Did you make this?” he asked, indicating the cake with the point of his knife.
The thief nodded, looking surprisingly self-conscious. “Nate said we shouldn’t bother you if you didn’t want a birthday party…”
Eliot wasn’t surprised that the rest of the team knew his birthday - Hardison can’t leave well enough alone. “So why did you?” he asked. Of all of them, Parker was the one most likely to take Nate’s word as gospel - the fact that she’d defied him in such a small but significant way was weirdly touching.
Parker stared at him as though she couldn’t believe the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Everybody’s supposed to have a cake on their birthday,” she said. “It’s like…a rule or something.”
Huh. Eliot stared at the cake again. He knew in his gut that it was probably going to taste awful, but he would have shot himself before ever admitting it to Parker. Acting on pure impulse, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. “I want to remember what it looked like,” he admitted. “Before we ate it.”
The two of them were quiet for a while, working - Eliot cut two pieces and put them on plates. Parker added a generous scoop of vanilla gelato to each slice, before putting the ice cream away. Eliot took a moment to wash up the knife and scoop while Parker carried both plates to his kitchen table.
“So,” Eliot said, taking the seat across from Parker, “if it's a rule, did you have many birthday cakes when you were a kid?” He took a bite of the cake mixed with a generous portion of ice cream. Wow, he thought, trying not to grimace. It was just as bad as he’d feared.
Parker had an odd expression on her face. “I don’t have a birthday,” she said, finally. “One of my foster fathers said that my real parents lied about when I was born.”
Eliot forced himself to swallow his mouthful, trying not to scowl. Parker was always so matter-of-fact about her past that it was hard to remember getting upset on her behalf only served to make her feel more self-conscious and awkward. “Nobody ever told you a date?” he asked. He supposed given Parker’s history that it made sense she’d never had a birthday party or even a cake - but it was inconceivable to him that she had no clear idea of even when the date was.
“I have four dates,” she said. “No idea which one’s right. My one foster dad said that if he didn’t know the real day there was no point in wasting the money on a party.”
Eliot took another bite of cake and ice cream, thinking about the simple conviction in Parker’s assertion that everyone deserved a cake on their birthday. “You know,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I think there’s room in my birthday for two of us. If you don’t mind sharing, that is?”
Her eyes were suddenly over-bright. “We need milk,” she said quickly, getting up from the table. “You have milk, right?”
Smiling slightly, Eliot made himself ignore Parker rummaging in his cupboards - focusing on choking down his cake until she returned to the table with two of his best crystal goblets. Each one was about half-full of milk.
Eliot took the one she offered him, and gently clinked it against her glass. “Happy birthday, Eliot,” she said, smiling at him.
His own grin widened. “Happy birthday, Parker.”