A/N – So my friend was having a bad day. I told her 'I cant promise you porn, cuz I dont actually write porn, but I can promise you Parker dealing with her 'monthly friend' and stupid boys' And thus.. this happened. It turned out a lot differently than I thought it would, lol. I had intended more Hardison, but eh, stuff happens.

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"I want cookies."

Eliot should have been surprised by the statement, but he was a little sidetracked by being surprised at finding Parker in his bed.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, more confused than angry. Also, she's in his spot.

She pouts slightly, curling up tighter into herself,

"Hardison's in his bed, and I want cookies."

Eliot is, understandably, at a loss.

"How are those two thoughts even...never mind," he shakes his head. After all, it's Parker.

"Make me cookies," Parker says and Eliot swears she almost throws a please in there at the end, but she can't quite pull it off.

He raises his eyebrows in amusement, "Why should I make you cookies? And why are you still in my bed. You have your own bed." He pauses, remembering who he's talking to. "You do actually have a bed, right?"

Parker scowls, "Your bed is comfortable. And you cook. So go cook me cookies!"

Her sharp tone catches him a little off guard, though not enough to miss that she hadn't actually answered the bed question.

"First of all," Eliot explains, moving to sit cross-legged by her feet, "You bake cookies, not cook them. And second of all, I don't bake."

"That's stupid," Parker mumbles, "They aren't called bakeies, they're called cookies. It's just dumb."

Eliot can't help it, he snorts in laughter at her grumpiness. He laughs even harder when all she does in response is growl at him and halfheartedly kick at him.

It dawns on him that he's never seen Parker stationary for so long. He's instantly concerned.

"Are you hurt?" he demands, scanning her for any visible injuries.

She mumbles 'no' into the pillow, his very expensive feather pillow that he's going to have to resettle into now that she's gone and mushed it up into her form.

He sighs. "Then what's wrong?"

Parker looks up and her lip actually quivers before she buries her face back in the pillow, muttering again.

He's at a loss. Crazy Parker he can handle. Emotional Parker is another thing altogether. "Come on," he urges, just stopping himself from patting her hair, "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

Parker huffs dramatically before turning abruptly to her other side, curling up to face the wall away from Eliot.

"Sophie would understand," she whispers, "And she'd bring me cookies. With sprinkles," she adds for emphasis.

The memory hits Eliot suddenly.

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"What's wrong with her, mama?"

Eliot peers into his sisters room, where she and their mom are talking in hushed tones on the bed.

His mama smiles kindly at him, "Don't worry about it, baby, you go and play with Rufus for a while. Your sister's just dealing with some lady pains right now. She'll be fine."

Eliot pouts. He doesn't want to go play with the dog while his sister is sick. She might be older than him by five years, but his daddy taught him that he needed to take care of her, like a good brother should.

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He comes back a half hour later. His mama's left the room, leaving his sister curled up, with a heating pad pressed to her belly.

"Hi," he risks, inching into the room.

She smiles tiredly at him, but doesn't tell him to go away.

"Are you sick?" Eliot asks, big blue eyes too wide for his face. His mama tells him that he'll grow into it, but he's not so sure.

She laughs, "Not really, kiddo, it just really sucks being thirteen, and a girl."

Her bed is huge, a tall and wide sleigh shaped monstrosity with filmy blue cloth draped all over it. He knows that she hates it, but didn't want to hurt their mama's feelings. But Eliot loves it. It reminds him of what he imagines flying must be like.

"Can I come up?" he asks, grinning when she scootches over to give him room.

He has to hop, and his glasses slip down his nose as he does, but he makes it, nestling comfortably into the sheets.

"You're such a munchkin," she teases him affectionately, ruffling his hair.

Eliot pouts stubbornly, "Mama says I just haven't hit my growth spurt yet." He crosses his arms over his chest and turns away from his sister to face the window.

She just laughs, "Mama also says you need to cut your hair."

His eyes go wide; maybe Mama wasn't right every time.

"I like it long, though," she yawns, running her fingers through his hair softly. Eliot yawns too, it's contagious.

"Can I sleep here?" he asks, even though he's already pulling the blankets up.

He can feel her roll her eyes at him, but she helps him get the covers just right before tossing an arm around him protectively.

"Sleep, munchkin. Mama said she's making us a cake later. With sprinkles."

Eliot grins, snuggling up, "I do like sprinkles."

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"Ohhhh," Eliot says, as realization dawns. He feels dumb for not putting it together before.

"Men are dumb," Parker adds, as if reading his mind.

"Don't you..." Eliot pauses, trying to figure out how best to phrase his question without pissing her off, "Don't you go through this every month?"

Parker's shoulders tense, but she doesn't hit him, so he counts it as a win.

"Yeah, but today is just really bad. And Sophie used to help me."

"Well, how did Sophie help? Maybe I can..." Eliot tries, but Parker cuts him off.

"Unless you grow a uterus in the next five seconds, you can't help."

Eliot stays quiet. He has many talents, but growing a uterus is definitely not one of them.

Parker continues as if he isn't there anyway.

"Sophie understood, is all. And she let me sleep in her bed. It was even more comfortable than yours. And it always smelled so good. And she brought me cookies, and we watched stupid British shows on her stupid big tv in her stupid room and she rubbed my back until I fell asleep, and grr, I hate her!"

Eliot is momentarily distracted by the thought of Parker and Sophie and... rubbing, but he shakes himself out of it.

"You don't hate her," he argues quietly, "You just miss her."

"Same thing," Parker huffs, but her shoulders relax again.

Eliot rolls his eyes. He moves quickly, so he's sitting right beside Parker instead of at her feet. She tenses for a moment when she feels his hand on her back, but when he starts to rub soothing circles, she melts into it, letting the tension drain away.

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"You're kinda nice," Parker says later as she nibbles happily on a chocolate chip cookie, with rainbow sprinkles.

Eliot growls menacingly but she just laughs.

He sighs, wrapping the last of the cookies up for later. "Just don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation, you know. I don't the need the team harping on me for..."

"For what?" Parker teases, "For cooking cookies and giving a back rub? Or for having a 'kiss the cook' apron?"

"Oh, shut up," Eliot shoots back, placing his apron carefully back in its spot, "And for the last time, you don't cook cookies, you bake them!"

Parker takes another bite defiantly, "It's still stupid."

Eliot sighs. It's going to be a long week.

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The End.