Title: Let It Snow
Rating: PG
Fandom: Leverage
Characters/Pairing: Parker/Hardison
Genre: Humor/Romance
Summary: Parker thanks Hardison. Post Ho, Ho, Ho Job. Short and sweet.

…

She stepped outside, sticking her tongue out to catch the flakes.

'Ah, Parker,' Hardison called out, 'You do realize that it's below freezing outside, right?' Parker didn't respond, so Hardison stood, slipping the new gadget into his pocket. She was still wearing the elf costume – minus the ears – which might have been okay for an LA winter, but Boston was another story altogether.

'It's just snow,' Eliot said, sword of death still gripped tightly in his hand. Of course Eliot would be like that. He was a regular scrooge – or at least, he pretended to be.

'Hey.' Hardison stood beside Parker, hands in his pockets in an attempt to ward off the cold. 'You're gonna get pneumonia if you hang around out here for too long.'

'What kind of Christmas miracle would that be?'

Part of him wanted to tell her that there was really no such thing as Christmas miracles, but there was just such a wonderful, undisturbed (or maybe too disturbed) innocence about her that he didn't. And after all, he wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't a Christmas miracle.

'Thank-you,' Parker whispered, and Hardison couldn't quite help but noticed the snowflakes that were caught in her eyelashes, and how beautiful in made her seem.

'For what?' he asked, a little confused.

'You made it snow.'

'I made it snow? Parker, I—' He paused. 'It's not like I can just hack a weather satellite to make a low pressure front come down. It doesn't work like that.'

She shrugged, and if it were anyone else, he might have interpreted the look on her face as embarrassment. 'I know.' She gave Hardison a quick kiss to the cheek, and he froze. 'But I asked you to bring me snow, and it's here.'

She gave him a devilish grin. 'We should make a snowman.'

Hardison frowned. 'I don't think there's enough snow for that yet, Parker.'

Her expression turned to disappointment. 'Oh. Right.'

'Maybe there will be tomorrow,' he suggested.

'Maybe,' she sighed. Hardison wrapped an arm around her, and she let her head drop unceremoniously on his shoulder.

'Come on,' he said. 'Let's go inside, and we can make eggnog.'

Her eyes lit up. 'And stand under the mistletoe!'

Hardison didn't hate the idea.