Pairing: Parker/Eliot Spencer
Fic Title: nobody knows you're numbering days
Author: [Unknown LJ tag]
Rating/Warning(s): M, sex
Genre: General romance, action
Why This Must Be Read: A great look at Eliot and Parker. The author gets into Eliot's head very well, and the bond between him and Parker really shines through. A little bit of action as they follow through on con after con, and the flow is awesome. Great read.
He can tell how much she hates the waitress outfit by the way she keeps messing with the skirt, glaring at it every time her hands are drawn to the hem.
It is a ridiculous outfit, but no more ridiculous than some of the disguises that he’s been coerced into wearing. If he has to dress up as a Miami Vice mob boss one more time, someone’s knuckles are getting broken.
She’s supposed to wait on Sophie and the mark at a local theme restaurant, giving her opportunity to swipe the keycard that will get them into the inner offices. It’s some tacky pirate themed Hooters rip-off, which means her blouse is striped with red with ruffles on the sleeves, and her skirt would be indecent in any other establishment.
He’s in the kitchen in case something goes wrong, staying inconspicuous by looking busy but not actually doing anything to mess up the flow of the work. The smell of grease and flour makes him wrinkle his nose. He settles into chopping vegetables in a corner – chop, chop, rhythm, routine. He enjoys it.
He sees Parker enter, dropping an order slip onto the rotation before sidling up next to him. Her skirt pools around her hips as she hops up on the counter, and he slices his palm open with the knife.
“Smooth, Emeril.” She tilts her head back and winces as it hits the metal cupboards above the counter. “Ow.”
He scowls and grabs a towel, pressing it to the cut on his hand. “Don’t you have tables to wait?”
Parker shrugs and rubs the back of her head, a thin line of irritation between her eyebrows. “I guess.”
“Well, maybe you should go take care of that,” he says pointedly.
He sighs and presses a hand to his jaw, temporarily interfering with Hardison’s electronic ear bugs. “Why do you keep following me around?”
Parker mirrors his action, that small, satisfied smile creeping over her lips. “Why are you letting me?”