So it’s after The Stork Job and they’re just back from Belgrade and Hardison finds Eliot in the kitchen at the office, and he knew Eliot could cook, is reminded of it now by the rich smell of an entire vat of bolognese on the stove, but he didn’t know he baked.
And he’s also just now learning that Eliot has at some point lost his mind, because there’s an industrial quantity of cookie dough rolled into balls on a tray on the counter, along with a cooling pan of brownies and a batch of cupcakes that Eliot is furiously decorating.
‘Are we… hosting someone?’ Hardison asks, hovering in the doorway.
Eliot doesn’t answer the question but rather informs him, nodding at the cookie dough, ‘I’m gonna freeze those. Same with the sauce; gonna freeze it in portions so people just gotta heat it and boil some pasta.’ He holds up a box of freezer bags. ‘You wanna be helpful, you can divide this up for me.’
‘Hey, I never said anything about wanting to be helpful,’ Hardison objects, but comes and takes the box from him. ‘Seriously, what’s the occasion?’
‘You all eat like damn teenagers,’ Eliot says, ‘and I can’t cook after every job.’
That’s… fair. The bakery’s-worth of treats feels like it’s encouraging rather than staving off the teenage diet, but Hardison’s very much not inclined to ask further questions.
So really, Eliot chooses to give himself away. ‘You hear what Parker was saying?’ he asks, intensely focused on creating a perfect spiral on the cupcake in front of him.
Hardison ladles sauce into a freezer bag and ties it, then reaches out to snag a ball of cookie dough. ‘When?’
Eliot yanks the tray out of his reach, glaring. ‘I said they’re for freezing!’
‘Oh no,’ Hardison says, biting into the dough. ‘We may not have enough to see out the decade. What’d Parker say?’
‘About, uh.’ Eliot pauses, piping a delicate flower onto the next cupcake. ‘In the briefing. About knowing that kid was orphaned.’
‘Yeah, man, I think this one kinda hit close to home,’ Hardison says, though exactly how close, he isn’t about to share. ‘We might wanna—’
And then he breaks off, taking in the spread—feast, really—in front of them, as he remembers exactly what Parker said.
‘Oh, I get it,’ Hardison says, smile spreading across his face, warm, warm feeling spreading through his chest. ‘You’re a softie.’
Eliot’s murderous look is only slightly undercut by the piping bag full of pink frosting in his hands, but he doesn’t deny the obvious: as long as he has any say in it, Parker’s never going to feel so much as a little snacky without having food immediately available to her.
And Hardison already likes Eliot, might even be crushing on him a little. But right then he thinks, yeah. I could fall in love with you.
‘Hey,’ he says, pointing at the cupcake. ‘Will you teach me how to do those flower things?’
‘And Parker likes sprinkles,’ Hardison adds.
Eliot ducks his head, but not in time for Hardison to miss his smile. ‘Top right cupboard,’ Eliot says, and moves over to make space next to him at the counter.
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