Written for Elke. Hope you like, darling!

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6:30pm

Hardison finds Parker sitting in a tree, at the park down the street. When she'd told him to meet her at the park, he'd imagined a bench, or even the grass. Not up in a tree. It's unusual, even for her.

"Babe?" he says, squinting up against the sunset to look at her.

"Come on up!" Parker calls back, grinning like a giant, twelve-foot tree is nothing more than a sidewalk curb.

"I hack, not climb trees," Hardison says, shaking his head at her in amusement. "Why are you in a tree anyway?"

"So Eliot can't kill me," Parker says, sounding entirely too chipper about the whole thing.

"Eliot ain't gonna…wait, what did you do?" Hardison asks, visions of destroyed kitchens or crashed sports-cars running through his mind.

Parker looks at him with what he can only assume is amused guilt.

"It was an accident!" she says. "But then he went all grr," she says, making claws with her hands, "like some sort of short, angry bear. And I decided Norma was a good place to hang out until he calmed down."

"You named the tree Norma?" Hardison asks, because he already knows about Eliot's short-angry-bear tendencies.

"She needed a name," Parker replies, shrugging. "She didn't like Leafy."

"How do you… you know what, never mind," Hardison says, laughing. "There's one problem with your hiding place, though."

"What is it?" Parker scoffs.

"Bears can climb trees," he says, "And so can Eliot."

When Parker doesn't reply, he looks up into the tree again, eyes struggling against the blinding orange light.

"Hey," he asks the blurry shape he assumes to be Parker, "Do you smell something burning?"

This is, of course, when Eliot appears out of nowhere, launching himself up the tree with admittedly impressive speed and dexterity.

The next moment, Parker's jumping from the tree like it's nothing, and he's flat on his back, with a torso full of his gorgeous, crazy girlfriend.

"Ok, stop!" Hardison yells, once they're on their feet and Eliot has made his way back down the tree to continue glaring at Parker.

He suddenly realizes that they've attracted a small crowd of onlookers, anxious to see what will unfold.

Parker moves back to stand beside him, leaning against him casually, as if she wasn't just jumping from trees all willy-nilly.

Eliot, seeming to notice the crowd at the same time as Hardison, smoothes out his face to a lesser glare, though his eyebrows remain impeccably arched.

"This is your fault!" Eliot whisper-yells to Parker, moving so he's only a foot from her and Hardison.

"Accident!" Parker defends, not quite able to control the giggling in her voice.

"What in the ever loving hell happened?!" Hardison asks, more annoyed than anything else at this point.

Eliot looks up at the sky, noting the very last rays of light, before glaring at Parker again and pulling off his knit-hat angrily.

And that's when Hardison sees that six inches or so of one side of Eliot's hair is missing. More accurately, six inches or so of hair has somehow gotten burned off, leaving singed tips in its wake.

Hardison laughs so hard that he has to sit down.

It's worth Eliot's kick to his hip as he stalks by, grumbling the whole while.

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5:45PM

"You used two squirts, right?" Eliot says, turning to face Parker as he tosses in the match.

"Squirts?" Parker asks, looking suddenly very nervous. "Duck!"

She's pulling him to the ground as the fire flares up, but he feels it lick his collar anyway.

The smoke alarm goes off as Parker is extinguishing the fire and Eliot just groans and runs his hand through his hair in a familiar gesture, stalling when his fingers stop short.

"Dammit, Parker!" he gets out, before she's running out the door, fire extinguisher clattering to the ground.

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11AM

"It's getting chilly out there," Parker says, kicking the office door shut behind her, even though the pub isn't open on Sundays.

Nate scoffs. "It's 60 degrees out. That's positively balmy out."

"I'm Nate, I'm from Boston and don't feel cold like everybody else!" Parker mocks, not even bothering to lower her voice.

Eliot dissolves into laughter from somewhere in the other room, and Hardison offers her a silent fist-bump. Even Sophie gives her a little smirk.

Nate just rolls his eyes and goes back to making his coffee.

"I'll make us some cider," Sophie says.

"Can I get in on this?" Hardison asks, interest piqued at the mention of delicious beverages that he doesn't have to brew.

"I'll grab some whiskey," Eliot adds, coming into the room with the rest of them.

"Don't touch my whiskey," Nate warns, not even looking up from the newspaper he's now reading.

"I have my own damn alcohol," Eliot says, ignoring Nate's pre-coffee grumpiness in favor of joining the cider-lovers in the cool area of the office.

"Honestly, Eliot," Sophie tuts, "It's not even Noon. Whiskey?"

Eliot pauses a moment, before grinning. "Day off. Plus, it's already six in England."

"Well," Sophie reconsiders, "I have been missing home lately…"

"There we go!" Eliot laughs.

A while later, Parker brings Nate a tea-cup full of spiked cider and places it on his desk, muttering that even grumpy masterminds should get some cider.

Nate can't help but laugh when he sees the drink.

"Tea cups, really?" he asks, because it's just so delightfully Parker.

"Yup," Hardison interrupts, slinking up and wrapping an arm around Parker's waist. "Because we? Are classy thieves."

"I don't thi.." Nate starts, but Hardison just waves his hand to hush him.

"Class-EE," he repeats, raising his pinky as he sips from the tiny cup that his hand dwarves.

"Well," Nate surmises, sipping from his cup and giving it a 'not bad' expression, "I guess you never did specify which class…"

Hardison is nice and waits until Nate has put his drink down, before flicking the older man in the head and walking away.

Parker laughs and then regards Nate with a somber look on her face.

"See? Classy."

Nate just groans and takes another sip.

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3:45PM

Antiquing is a hobby that Hardison never expected to share with Sophie, but life's funny that way sometimes. Which is why they've ended up three hours away, going through table after table of stuff. Sophie enjoys the historical aspect of it, and of course, the chance to find something valuable that's been cast off as garbage. Hardison also looks out for valuables, but is more interested in the technology over the years, from abacus to iphone, and everything in-between.

"Any luck?" Sophie asks, squeezing some hand sanitizer onto her palm before putting the bottle away and spreading the liquid around thoroughly.

"Nope, you?" Hardison replies, almost pouting.

"Nothing," Sophie says. "Shall we get some pastries and tea at that shop next door to ease our disappointment?"

"Excellent idea," Hardison says, grinning, "Though I think I'll try the cocoa."

"Americans," Sophie scoffs, but she's smiling.

"Yeah, yeah," Hardison says, as he hold open the door for her, nodding goodbye to the old lady behind the counter.

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4:27PM

It's three minutes until the movie is to start, and the lights dim right on cue. Nate kicks his feet up onto the empty seat in front of him and settles the giant tub of popcorn over his lap. The movie is old, and the theater is nearly empty, and Nate can actually hear the whirring of the film moving above him.

He grins and sits back to enjoy his Sunday off.

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5:15pm

"Just use two squirts of the gas, I gotta run to the store and get ketchup. You know how Hardison gets about his ketchup."

"Two, got it," Parker replies, barely dragging her attention away from the heist movie on TV. "Bah!" she yells at the screen, "that rope to weight ratio is way off! Your hero would be a fake-tanned splat on the ground, Michael Bay!"

She hears the door click shut, and suddenly realizes that Eliot had said something. She wanders over to the mini-balcony where they have the grill set up, pushing open the sliding doors.

"He said two," she says to herself, "two what?"

Then she notices the two cans of grill gas tucked into the corner of the balcony.

"Oh!" she says, "Right, two cans. Got it."

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The next day.

"Ooh, I like it!"

Eliot doesn't remove his sunglasses, but they can all feel the glare he gives Sophie.

"Really," she says, walking up and patting his new, shorter hair. "It makes you five years younger, easy."

Eliot perks up slightly at that.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Definitely," Parker adds, nodding emphatically.

"Didn't ask you, fire-starter," Eliot growls.

"I don't cook!" Parker says, "I didn't know."

Eliot just shakes his head.

"The man has a point," Hardison says, "You can safely use C-4, but you mess up a grill?"

"How often does lighting a grill come up in my line of work?" Parker defends, giving Hardison her very best "sad eyes."

Hardison melts instantly.

"It was just an accident, man," he says to Eliot, grinning back at Parker.

Eliot sighs.

"No more grilling for you," he says to Parker. "Don't want to blow up the office. Again."

Even Nate laughs at that.

"I made muffins," Parker says. "Apology muffins," she clarifies. "Orange and cranberry."

"Baking is totally allowed," Hardison says, "She hasn't blown up an oven."

"Yet," Sophie feels compelled to add, just because it's funny.

Eliot stalks over to the counter and grabs one of the muffins, taking a relatively gentle bite for the annoyance he's exuding.

"Not bad," he finally admits. "It's a start."

Parker grins.

"So, what's the next job?" Eliot asks, looking at the big screen with interest.

"Funny you should ask," Nate says. "It involves diamonds. And I'm thinking you three should be able to handle it on your own."

"Me and these two?" Eliot asks, waving in the general direction of Parker and Hardison.

Sophie nods and answers for Nate.

"You'll be fine. It's an easy job. Doesn't even require a proper grifter.

"Where we going?" Hardison asks, snagging a muffin.

Parker grabs it from him and takes a bite before giving it back, leaning next to him against the counter, hip to hip.

Nate clicks a button and the screen changes to show the busy metropolis of the nation's capitol.

"Washington, D.C."

Eliot groans. Nothing good ever happens in D.C.

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THE END