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Eliot’s new relationship feels… bad.
To Parker, at least. It seems to feel fine to Eliot, considering how much time he spends with his new girlfriend, sneaking away and canceling game nights and acting like he’s involved in something top secret. Something top secret that Parker’s shut out of.
And why shouldn’t she be? This is what Eliot wants, a romantic partner to share in his life, and that’s not what Parker is to him. It’s insane for her to be upset about this. What, like Eliot isn’t allowed to be happy? Like Eliot can't have the same kind of partnership she does? Parker doesn’t know what she’d do without Alec; it’s natural for Eliot to want something like that for himself. She should be happy that he's putting himself out there.
It just feels bad.
Alec gets his finger on the pulse pretty quick when she Facetimes him. After she confesses her irrational irritation, he says, gently, “Babe, do you think you might be… a little jealous?”
Not even teasing, for once. Just sweet and concerned, the way he always is. Warm. Caring. More than Parker deserves.
“What? What would I be jealous of?”
Alec just looks at her through the computer screen.
“Look,” Parker says, “it’s not a big deal, okay? It’s just, he’s always off with her, and you’re doing your stuff, which is fine, you know, I want you to be able to do your stuff, I love that you’re doing your stuff, but he’s never here either, so I’m alone all the time, and this house is really big and empty, so it’s all just kind of - oh.”
“Yeah,” Alec says.
“Oh no.”
She is jealous. Which is insane. Parker knows this is insane. She doesn’t have a right to demand that Eliot deprive himself of his own desires just to pay attention to her. He’s her best friend, just like Alec is her best friend, and she wants him to be happy.
She doesn’t have any right to feel like this.
“I can’t do this without you,” she tells Eliot, because this much she’s allowed. She’s allowed to tell him how she feels. She’s allowed to tell him she’s scared. She’s allowed to want him to hold her and reassure her and promise that he’s not going to abandon the team, that he’s not going to go off and have two-point-five kids with a pretty wife and forget that Parker and Alec ever existed.
She does feel better after that, so. Problem solved. Probably.
-
Eliot’s breakup feels bad, too.
Parker hadn't liked Maria all that much to begin with, even if they'd sort of bonded over life-or-death situations. But she had wanted Eliot to be happy. And she can’t believe that Maria would give Eliot up - anyone who’d leave Eliot over a dumb social construct like “criminal” deserves to be miserable. Parker feels bad, and Eliot feels bad, and somehow she can’t shake the feeling that Eliot is pushing her away.
Maybe she earned that. Maybe she was too weird about and toward Maria, despite her best efforts; maybe part of this is her fault, and Eliot's angry with her. Besides, it’s not like Eliot is super touchy-feely to begin with. It’s okay that he doesn’t want to talk about how it sucks.
Parker feels a little better when he opens up, even if all of Eliot’s thoughts are grouchy pessimism-disguised-as-rationality grumping. So he doesn’t want to date civilians, or law enforcement, or criminals. The excuses are all lined up, like he has no choice but to wall himself off. He still clearly wants something. It’s silly for him to act like all the doors are closed just because one attempt at a relationship didn’t work out.
It’s even sillier for Parker to be relieved that he doesn’t want to try again.
She tells herself that she’s just concerned about safety. Eliot took big risks in his relationship with Maria, risks that could have had major consequences for the team. Now she doesn't have to worry about something like that happening again.
But when she thinks harder about that, she doesn’t think it’s fair. Every single team member has done foolhardy things with potentially catastrophic consequences in the past, and Parker’s never felt like this. What, like she doesn’t trust Eliot? Like she doesn’t know he’d chew off his own arm before he let her or Alec or Sophie get hurt?
No, she trusts Eliot, she decides.
She just doesn’t trust the strangers he might bring home.
-
After they take down RIZ, it’s time for a little vacation.
Alec’s been all over the world for months, though, and Parker’s managing teams on six continents. They’ve seen everything there is to see. So instead of traveling, they hunker down at home with movies and popcorn and cozy heated blankets.
They’re partway through Ocean’s Eight when Parker, sleepy and warm and snuggled against Alec’s chest, murmurs, “I wish Eliot were here.”
If it were anyone else, she’d have to explain herself. But Alec just pets her hair. “Okay,” he rumbles, low and contemplative. He loves Eliot just as much as she does, after all. “You want me to call him?”
“I don’t know if he’d come,” Parker says. “He might be busy.”
“Worth a shot, though, right?”
“He might think we’re being weird.”
“Since when do you care if Eliot thinks you’re weird?”
That’s fair enough. Parker tries to come up with an explanation, fails. It’s different, she thinks, but she doesn’t even know why it’s different, much less how to express that to Alec.
“He missed you a lot, is all,” she deflects. “I feel kind of mean keeping you all to myself like this.”
“Well, if he wants to see me so bad, he oughta say it to my face.”
Parker leans back to squint at him. “Since when does Eliot ever say things to your face?”
Alec laughs. His eyes crinkle when he does. She’s missed him so much she can feel the sharpness when she breathes, a jagged edge. “A’ight,” he says easily. “Point.”
“Maybe we could invite him over for dinner tomorrow,” Parker suggests. “We could get takeout.”
“Sure.” Alec hugs her closer as she settles back against his chest. He rests his chin on top of her hair. “Everything okay? With you and him?”
“What? Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I just know it’s been hard. Him having a girlfriend and all.”
“Well, he doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore,” Parker says. Her voice comes out frosty, not at all how she wants, but she’s not sure how to sound normal instead. “And apparently he’s not looking for a new girlfriend, so. It’s no big deal. It’s not like it matters. He can do what he wants.”
“Okay,” Alec says, in that half-amused tone that means he’s humoring her.
Parker growls, “Do not make fun of me about this!”
“I’m not! Hey, hey, I’m not. Cross my heart.” Alec squeezes her, wraps the toasty blanket tighter around both of them. “I just think you might be having… feelings. Y’know, about” - he shrugs - “popcorn. Or something.”
Parker suddenly understands some things.
-
“You can’t just tell me I have feelings for Eliot,” Parker snaps.
She’s standing in the kitchen, now. She came out here for something, but she can’t remember - oh, the popcorn. She was going to refill the popcorn. She opens a new package and dumps the kernels into the bowl, shoves the dish in the microwave. It’s all very mundane. Part of the packet scatters slightly over the counter when she rips it, but that’s just because her hands are a little unsteady, which is just because it’s cold. There's no other reason.
“I did not say you have feelings for Eliot,” Alec says, even and placating. He’s standing in the kitchen, too, across the island from her. “I said I thought you might have feelings about popcorn.”
“We both know what that means, Alec!”
“Do we?”
“You can’t just tell me-” Frustration snarls tight in Parker’s chest. To her horror, tiny tears prick at the corners of her eyes, made worse because she can’t explain them. She’s so mad that she wants to stamp her foot. “He’s my best friend!”
“I know,” Alec says. “He’s mine, too.”
The way he says it makes her pull up short. It’s careful, still low and placating, but laden with hidden meaning. Parker isn’t good at reading most people’s voices, but she’s known Alec for long enough to place this tone. Longing. And maybe a little anxious.
Her annoyance dissolves. She swipes at her eyes. “You have feelings,” she says, inordinately pleased to turn the tables.
“Yeah, I’ve got feelings, Parker.” Alec leans against the island. “I’ve had feelings for a long-ass time. It’s okay.”
“How long?”
He shrugs.
“How long, Alec?”
“A while.”
Parker glowers at him.
He shrugs again. “‘Bout as long as we’ve been together.”
“But we’ve been together forever,” she says.
“Sure have.”
Parker doesn’t know what to do with this revelation. She searches her own feelings, careful, but she doesn’t find any of the jealousy or upset she experienced with Maria. Just worry. “You’re telling me you’ve waited ten years to say something?”
“Well, I wasn’t ever really planning on saying anything. Besides, I’m good at waiting.”
“You didn’t wait ten years for me.”
“I would’ve, though,” Alec says earnestly. “I would’ve waited ten years. Twenty years. Shoot, I’d’ve waited ‘til we were retired if you wanted. And it would’ve been fine if you never wanted that. I’d’ve been right here, no matter what. Right here. It's okay.”
The microwave beeps. Parker ignores it. She shoves her hands in the pockets of her pajama pants, hunches her shoulders. “So what do we do, then? What are we supposed to do? Do we just - wait? Not say anything?”
“Well, I’m cool with waiting,” Alec says, “if that’s what you want to do. But we could, you know, ask him. If it’s what he wants. We could find out.”
“But what if it’s not?” Parker asks. “What if we get it all wrong? What if he hates us?”
“Babe, I kinda think we’d have to do more than this to make Eliot Spencer hate us.”
And, well.
That’s fair enough.
-
Eliot accepts the dinner invitation but resoundly rejects every potential choice of takeout. “I’m not eating a bunch of greasy fast food with the two of you,” he grouses. “Some of us have standards. I’ll bring ingredients with me, hey. I’ll make something nice.”
This comes as no surprise to Parker. Eliot likes cooking for them, and Alec’s been away long enough to miss the food. It’s not like he’ll come right out and ask Eliot to make him a meal, but Parker thinks he might have chosen some sleazier restaurant options on purpose. Eliot’s indignation is hilariously easy to rouse.
Eliot probably knows that, too. But he’s perfectly happy to take Alec’s offering, if only because that means he can feed both of them without looking like he cares.
Parker doesn’t want to beat around the bush, when the time comes. If she gets too keyed-up, she'll make mistakes. This endeavor requires the same precision focus as cracking a tough safe. She makes herself at home on a stool in the kitchen, watching Eliot chop veggies, and leans forward. “So,” she says brightly, “how is single life treating you?”
He glares at her. “Fine,” he says, which is no more than she expected.
“You’re sure you’re out of the dating game? I could be nicer to your next girlfriend. We could go on a double date. I could push her off a building. You know, bonding. I'd do better this time.”
“I already told you,” Eliot says, “it’s too damn complicated. So, yeah. I’m sure. Sucks, but I’m sure.”
Alec sidles up behind Parker, hugging her around the waist. She leans back against him with a tiny grin. He rests his chin on top of her head.
“You just said you can’t date outside people in the know,” Alec points out. “There’s a dozen Leverage International teams. Plenty of single people on those, if you can hack long distance.”
“Not worth the hassle.”
“What about people who already know you?”
“What, like Sophie?” Eliot levels them both with enough incredulity to power cities. “‘Hey, sorry about the dead husband that we all miss like hell, but just real quick, mind if I hit on you?’ She’d shoot me in the damn face. She’d be right to.” He pauses, considers. “‘Sides, Sophie’s not my type.”
“So what is your type?” Parker presses.
“Look,” Eliot says, with a strain that indicates rapidly thinning patience, “it’s... sweet that you wanna - solve this for me, or whatever. But I’m fine. I don’t need anything except this. I was stupid not to realize that, before. It's fine. I don’t need anything else. I’m okay with just you two.”
Parker’s heart skips a beat. Her mouth goes a little dry, so she’s relieved when Alec takes over. “That’s actually something we wanted to talk to you about,” he says, in the smoothest segue of all time.
Eliot stops chopping vegetables. His hesitation only lasts for a split second, and then he sweeps the chopped pieces into a bowl, focusing his entire attention on the task. Parker knows that he can do this in his sleep, though; he’s not fooling anyone.
Alec gives him space to respond. A few tense seconds go by, thin-stretched. Then Eliot says, “Is that gonna be a problem? I didn’t think it was a problem.”
“‘Course not,” Alec says, quick and reassuring. “Total opposite of a problem.”
“All right. Then what’s the deal?”
Parker still doesn’t want to beat around the bush. She elaborates, helpfully, “You know, we could date you. If dating’s something you want to do.”
Eliot stares at her for another moment. Then he snorts and shakes his head. “Quit screwing around, Parker.”
“I’m not!” She’s kind of offended, actually, that he can’t tell. “I’m just saying-”
“It would never work-”
“-just because it’s different doesn’t mean it can’t work, things change all the time, we change together-”
“You’re not listening to me, Parker-”
“-if you don’t want it that’s fine, but I-”
Alec speaks up, overlapping with her. “I don’t understand why that’s such an impossible suggestion to begin with, man, c’mon-”
“I don’t get to have this!” Eliot shouts, with such ferocity that both Parker and Alec quiet. “It’s not something I - you two, both of you, you deserve better than this. Come on. Come on. Don’t act like you don’t know it.”
Parker is not fond of this response. In some ways, it's her worst nightmare. She wants to run away, to disappear, to leap from the tops of tall buildings until she can't feel anything but the wild rush of air. She stands her ground instead. It’s part of being brave, she thinks. “What happened to ‘until our dying day?’”
Eliot drags a hand down his face. “This isn’t about that.”
“It is about that,” Parker says.
“Come on, Parker. You know what I meant.”
“I don’t,” she says, and the worst part is that she isn’t even being difficult on purpose. “What, we deserve better, like we don’t deserve to have you here? Like you’re just gonna leave? You promised me you wouldn’t go anywhere. Did you lie? Did you - were you just trying to make me feel better? We don’t lie to each other, Eliot!”
“I wasn’t lying, Parker.” Eliot looks to Alec, holds out his hands, beseeching. “Look, just - help me out here, man.”
“Oh, no,” Alec says. “You dug this hole. You dig your own way back out.”
Parker thinks that Alec might actually be angry, which is such a novel occurrence that it dampens her upset. He’s often exasperated, sure, even irritable - but anger is rarer. Especially where she and Eliot are concerned. She ought to comfort him, but she also doesn’t think she’s the one who can solve this problem. The person with that power is staring at them both across the kitchen island.
She kind of likes that he’s mad about this.
It’s probably mean of her.
“I wasn’t trying to upset you,” Eliot says. “Either of you. That’s the last thing I want, swear to God. This is so screwed up.”
“Then stop being stupid,” says Parker.
“I’m not,” he growls. “Look, I’m not like you. You know I’m not like you. The things I’ve done - look, just - no one’s ever gonna be more important than you two, okay? You gotta know that. No one’s ever gonna matter more. Hell, I could get married someday and it still wouldn’t - I just - I can’t screw this up.”
Parker can’t breathe. She thinks she might be a little angry herself. She wants to throw something. Break something.
Alec sums it up best. “That,” he says, “is the stupidest damn thing you’ve ever said.”
Eliot turns away from both of them, abrupt, jerky. He slams the bowl of veggies down on the opposite countertop.
“And you’ve said a lot of stupid things.”
“I’m being serious,” Eliot says.
“I know. That’s why it’s so damn stupid.”
“Right," Parker says, "so you can inflict yourself on some random floozy who doesn’t know anything about you, you can be someone she doesn’t deserve, you can have that, but you can’t do the same for us.”
“I’m here,” Eliot insists, but he doesn't turn back. “You can see I'm here. It’s not like I’d go anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. I just can’t-”
“You can’t want it,” Alec finishes.
Eliot doesn’t breathe. His shoulders are rigid.
Alec’s gaze is sharp, assessing. The anger hasn’t left his jaw or his hands or the tight set of his shoulders, but his voice comes out carefully controlled. “You can’t want it and get it, too. Right? It’s gotta hurt or it doesn’t count. It’s gotta feel bad. A whole damn martyrdom.”
“That’s not fair, man,” Eliot says, finally turning around. His hands grip the edge of the island like he's having trouble holding himself up.
“Am I wrong?”
“I'm not gonna screw this up!”
He’s agitated enough for Parker to throw caution to the winds. She darts around the island and drapes herself over Eliot’s shoulders. He’d throw her off if he didn’t want her there, she knows - but he doesn’t. His body remains rigid beneath her for a few long seconds, and then he exhales, and his knees wobble.
“I don’t think you’re being very fair,” she informs him. “Alec and I can both tell you when you screw up. Actually, we definitely will tell you when you screw up. We’re not shy about it.”
Eliot’s breath hitches.
“So it kind of seems like this is just about you hating yourself,” Parker continues. “And I don’t like that. Because we both love you, a lot. And so it’s like you’re saying we’re wrong to feel like that. But we’re not.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say.”
Alec joins them. He draws up on Eliot’s other side, casual and relaxed, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “Look, man,” he says, “if you don’t want it like this with us, that’s cool. We’re cool. Just don’t be an idiot about it.”
“It’s not,” Eliot says, “that I don’t want it.”
“Wow,” Parker replies, unimpressed. “Then maybe you should stop being an ass?”
This would normally prompt an irritable response. It’s the same tone she uses for any kind of bickering with Eliot, abrupt and cranky and no-nonsense.
But instead, Eliot closes his eyes. His shoulders slump. He looks sad, for a second, and Parker thinks he’s about to reject them - that maybe they’ve misjudged the whole situation.
"Just stop being an ass," she repeats. "That's all we're asking here. We can work out the rest."
Eliot murmurs, like a prayer, “Okay.”