AN: Hi guys! *waves* The time for my annual birthday fic has come around again. I know, I know. Some of you are probably upset (okay, maybe not upset, but at least slightly annoyed?) that I haven't updated anything or written anything new since my last birthday fic. Lots of reasons, but mainly that I haven't really felt the urge to write lately. I've been reading a lot and watching different/new stuff (Doctor Who, The Musketeers, Merlin – mostly BBC shows, The Librarians, Grimm, and the Harry Potter series), but not writing anything much. Sorry. I am, however, trying to get my birthday collection out there for you guys.

So this year is the same routine as in previous years: One chapter a day until my birthday for every year that I've been alive. This year's theme is 26 letters (for the English-language alphabet). The alphabet thing has been done countless times before, but I've never actually tried it myself. So here goes!

Hope you enjoy this year's birthday collection!

Summary: This is my annual birthday challenge to write one one-shot for every year, updated daily until my birthday. This year's theme is the alphabet. Now up: A is for Aardvark. Parker goes shopping at the zoo…

A is for Aardvark

"No, Parker, you can't keep it," Nate says, pinching the bridge of his nose for the tenth time in as many minutes.

"But he's lonely," Parker says, sticking her bottom lip out as far as it can go. "He likes me."

She cuddles the yellowish-gray, coarse-haired animal with its long, narrow face that only a mother (and evidently, Parker) could love close to her chest and nuzzles her cheek against the top of the triangular head. The baby aardvark – for indeed, aardvark it is – gives a quiet grunt and licks the bulbous end of its snout with a long, thin tongue. The rabbit-like ears swivel towards Nate and twitch, as if waiting for his reply.

"Parker," he sighs, and rubs his face with both hands. "No." He contemplates pulling his hair out, but reconsiders; he's starting to go bald up top, so he really needs to stop with the hair-pulling.

"Please?"

Nate admits defeat and gives his unruly curls a good tug. It makes him feel marginally better.

"Artie's nocturnal and likes to swim and dig holes," Parker says brightly, as if reading from a pamphlet, "He eats ants and termites. And cucumbers, too," she adds as an afterthought with a wrinkle of her nose in disgust at the thought of eating a vegetable (well, fruit, actually), "but nobody's perfect. Please, Nate." Her bottom lip sticks out again, this time with the addition of what Hardison once called the "mega-huge anime eyes." With a side of shiny crocodile tears.

Speaking of Hardison, he and Eliot arrive at just that moment "forcefully discussing" measures that ought to be taken in the event of a zombie apocalypse (what?!) and Nate takes the opportunity to say in a loud, authoritative voice, "No, Parker, you may not keep it," sure that he will soon be backed up by the saner members of the team.

"Keep what?" Hardison asks, pausing mid-argument to look at Nate and Parker. As the blonde thief has her back to him, he does not immediately see the aardvark curled up in her arms until she turns around, and—

"Ahhhhhhh!" he shrieks, and scrambles away from the ginormous zombie rat-dog hybrid thing to hide behind Eliot, almost climbing him in his terror (an action that he would later vociferously deny). "What is it?! It's evil! It's looking at me! Get it away from me! Rabies!"

The baby aardvark is indeed looking at him, but not in preparation for an attack. On the contrary, it squeals in alarm and scrabbles in Parker's arms, instinctively trying to burrow away from the loud, humanoid, shrilly screaming thing.

"Ow!" Parker cries, as the animal scratches at her with its hard nails, and drops it. She pouts again, this time with betrayal directed at her new supposed-to-be friend. "Ow, Artie."

Artie the Aardvark, now freed, scrambles away from Parker and away from the screeching Hardison, who has now climbed up onto the counter for safety, and snuffles its way towards the door. It doesn't quite make it there, as two large hands reach down and pick it up.

The poor creature's legs scrabble in the air in front of Eliot as he examines the ugly, cat-sized baby aardvark with a hard glare. The aardvark struggles a few seconds longer, then goes limp, playing dead. It is obviously tired out both from its exertions and from the fact that it is currently midday and thus way past the usual bedtime for nocturnal animals. After a few more silent moments, Artie cracks open its beady little eyes, squeaks pitifully, and wiggles its long, skinny nose.

Eliot's lips curl up in a rare smile. "Aw," he says, changing his grip on the animal so that it curls up in the crook of his arm like a strange, overgrown rat-like baby, "You're alright, darlin'." He scratches the soft, pink belly. Then he shouts over at Hardison, still squealing and shuddering on the kitchen counter: "Hardison, shut up. She ain't gonna eatcha."

"She?" exclaim three incredulous voices.

"She," Eliot answers with a glower at them all. "Female baby aardvark."

"How—?"

"I dated a zoologist once" is his predictable reply. Then he adds, "Aren't you a beauty?" to the grunting gray thing that is licking his face in gratitude.

"Uh, Eliot?" Nate says, dreading what's going to happen next.

Nate is momentarily spared from his next question by the clacking of heels through the door, heralding Sophie's arrival.

"Oh, you're all here," she observes, giving each of them a warm smile that freezes on her face when she sees the thing in Eliot's arms.

Predictably, she shrieks.

"Seriously?" Eliot growls, "What the hell is wrong with you people? Can't you see you're scarin' her?" he snarls, then proceeds to calm poor Artie down by cooing at her and making all sorts of soothing sounds that the others never expected to ever hear from their gruff hitter.

"Um, Eliot?"

"Mm? (Aren't you the prettiest little aardvark there ever was? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!)"

"You know we can't keep it," Nate says carefully. "We have to take it back to the zoo."

"Her!" is Eliot's only response (aside from the cooing, of course). "'She,' not 'it.'"

"Right." Nate clears his throat, then tries again, prompted into speaking up by three glares (though why Parker is now on the "get rid of it!" bandwagon he doesn't quite understand, not that he's complaining).

"Eliot," he says in his most commanding father-like tone, "You can't keep it- her."

Eliot completely ignores him and walks towards the kitchen. "Want some fruit, honey?" he asks conversationally in the kind of voice that he would never use on them, and sets the aardvark down on the countertop next to him.

Hardison squeaks and leaps off of the counter into Parker's arms.

"Meep?" he says desperately.

"Yeah, definitely," Parker replies, patting him on the head. "For sure."

. . . . . . . . . .

AN: So. What did you think? A little rusty? I think so, too, but it'll probably get better as I keep writing.

I usually like to start my birthday fics off with goofiness, but there will definitely be a variety of genres (angst, AU, humor, crossover, etc.) in this collection, just like always. I may also use some of my previous 'verses, such as the "Sky's Gonna Open" Leverage/Angel stories and definitely the "Sticky Little Fingers" stories – all of which you can find on my profile.

(Confession: I think this may be my last birthday collection, since I'm not as into writing fanfic as I used to be. Also, 27 is a hard number to think of a theme for. Sorry guys, and thanks for all the support over the years! I hope this year's doesn't disappoint!)