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It takes years for the three of them to get together officially, and only after Nate and Sophie leave. Years before Eliot Spencer, World's Greatest Hitter, can finally accept that the two people who mean the universe to him aren't going anywhere without him by their sides.
The first time they even speak of it, Parker drops from the high ceiling in their office and casually says, "When are you going to move in with us?"
At first, Eliot's confused because, well, he has a room with them in the brewpub. By his logic, this question doesn't make any sense at all (to anyone else's logic, it would be obvious to what she's asking for).
"Parker, I don't have time for this." Eliot grumbles, scribbling down new ingredients to try for his new risotto recipe.
Eliot's been trying to find a sweet spot between savory and sweet to balance out the critique he's gotten from customer reviews about this particular dish. Just because the brewpub is doing well, doesn't mean he can't experiment.
He doesn't stop Parker from continuing her line of questions.
"You're here day and night, but you won't move in with us. Hardison thinks it's because we haven't been direct enough."
The hitter stops scribbling, looking up at Parker with a quizzical look. "Wait, what do you mean direct?"
Parker shrugs, blowing any stray hairs out of her face. "I thought we've been pretty open about this."
"Parker, you're not making any sense. In case you haven't noticed, I practically live here." Eliot sighs, resuming his scribbling in his notebook. "And if Hardison wants me to start paying rent or help chip in for something in the brewpub he can just ask me himself."
"Ask you about what?" Hardison asks from the stairwell. "Parker, the Australians want approval on the plan to take down IndieCorp."
"I thought I told them to wait." Parker says with her arms crossed. "They're not ready yet."
Hardison puts his hands up in a placating manner as he approaches her. "No worries babe, I told them already. You have final say over what happens and if they go against your wishes, you weren't going to back them up."
Parker nodded, then hooked her arm around Hardison's broad shoulders to climb onto the table. "Good." She sits cross-legged on the table, peering over Eliot's notebook.
It's been a year since Nate and Sophie retired, and Leverage International was only just beginning to grow after months of struggling to find the right people in the right channels. The word about Nathan Ford's crew had apparently spread a lot wider than the trio had originally thought, but it came with a price.
Nobody wants to join forces with an unstable and emotionally invested crew.
Even if it is for justice. To those who discovered the truth of the matter found the stakes too high. Others quickly backed out when they found out it wasn't what they were expecting. Those who stayed? Well, they were well-wishers, inexperienced but talented, and novices who wanted to do better outside of the law. These were the people that were far and few in between of what the original Leverage members needed to succeed.
Hardison formulated intense training modules for those willing to learn for them to succeed. After nine months of training, teams started stabilizing and were functioning on an independent level without Parker's constant supervision. Though they still needed to run everything by Parker for support purposes.
"Parker's askin' me when I'm moving in." Eliot huffs,
"Oh. Well, when are you?" Hardison cocks his head to the side. "I mean it doesn't have be now if you're not ready, but some future date would be nice."
This time, Eliot sets his pen down and sighs deeply.
Generally, when Parker asks a question Eliot doesn't understand, Hardison's able to translate for him and vice versa. But now, it seems like some of Parker's mannerisms were rubbing off on the hacker.
"Dammit Hardison, not you too." Eliot huffs.
"Look, all we're saying is we're willing to go at your pace, but we just want to make sure we're on the same page." Hardison says calmly while he's leaning on the counter with his hands flat on the table.
Eliot stares at Hardison, trying to decipher what unspoken words were actually being said to him. After years of working together, he and Hardison have finally been able to communicate to each other with just a look to indicate their opinions or musings without so much as a word uttered between them.
But right now, in this space, and in the context of Parker's question, Eliot cannot figure out what Hardison's look means.
Actually, it's more of a matter that he won't. That he won't allow himself to read the emotion on Hardison's face as anything but professional courtesy because if he does, Eliot wouldn't know what to do with himself.
So, really, it's not a matter of not being capable of reading Hardison, it's really a matter of whether he should. Should he be allowed the kind of happiness that Hardison and Parker are offering? Should he be allowed into the space the two have created just for him?
Eliot scowls, "You're not making any sense." But his voice isn't as sharp as it was initially.
But Hardison's able to pick up the cue just fine. He's not socially incompetent, even if Eliot likes to protest otherwise.
"Well..." Hardison says slowly, leaning in a tiny bit closer but with just enough space between the counter and himself for Eliot to escape if he wants.
Eliot doesn't, but knowing that he can gives him some relief on the subject.
"We're a little more than a team, aren't we?" Hardison offers a small, knowing smile. His brown eyes gleaming brighter with self-assured confidence that seemed to be growing with every new day.
And dammit, that's not fair. Every day, the hacker just seemed to be extending his peak higher, and higher with no intentions of stopping anytime soon, making it harder for Eliot to find fault with him.
Eliot glances to Parker, whose sitting right next to his notebook but staring right into his face to watch for his reaction.
The hitter knew that eventually they would have a discussion on this thing they've had going on. This-this weird relationship between the three of them that's been happening ever since they rescued Hardison from that coffin when they did the funeral home job. How close they've been since then. He's pretty sure Nate and Sophie noticed it, but they were so caught up in their own world, they paid no mind to the three youngsters in their care. Still though, the last thing Eliot ever said to the two retirees was 'Til my dying day' and wasn't that phrase just as much a declaration as the socially accepted one?
Nate must've known then when he'd given his nod of approval. Sophie had softened with a beaming smile, and when the hitter turned to Parker and Hardison? Well, Eliot didn't need to be a mind reader to know what their looks meant. He'd already known then, and he knew now. But could he allow it? Could he allow himself to enjoy this without reserve?
Eliot drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "So we're really doing this?" He raises an eyebrow, tilting his chin down with a glower. "Seriously?"
Hardison shrugs, "Parker and I talked about it, and we're open to the idea, but if you aren't sure or aren't ready for it, then we won't push you."
"But we still want you here." Parker says firmly. "With us." She adds, in case Eliot doesn't catch her meaning.
This time, Eliot understands. He looks down to his notebook where his risotto recipe lies, half scribbled and unfinished with a frown. Parker said they'd been direct with him this entire time, but there's been no evidence of any kind of communication that would even elude to their relationship moving forward until now. The longer he stares at his own handwriting, the more he frowns.
And then it hits him like the goddamn tilt-a-whirl back in 2011.
Oh.
OH.
The brewpub! Eliot can't believe he didn't see it sooner. He's being seduced. Scratch that, he's been seduced. He's been given time. Given something to enjoy without any strings attached. Hardison and Parker have been showing him what they're willing to give him, that they're willing to give him time to accept something that's normal for others but foreign for him. Hot damn. Eliot doesn’t think anyone's ever played the game with him at a snail's pace before. Much less for him. They've caught the hitter, hook, line, and sinker.
They may have been playing the long con, but Eliot is a master at having the last word.
Eliot quietly chuckles. "Was 'til my dying day' not enough?" He looks up to Parker briefly with a half smirk, then turns to Hardison fully. He leans in as close as he can until their noses are just about to touch to give themselves an air of privacy. "If ya wanted me to join the both of you in bed for all of eternity, ya could have just asked." He murmurs.
Then, Eliot walks off towards the brewpub's kitchen purposefully with his chest puffed out and a smug smile on his face while Hardison stutters behind him.
And yea, okay, Eliot has basically agreed to move in with them on an official level, which terrifies him more than it excites him. If he's perfectly honest, the challenges and consequences of the change going forward will outweigh the benefits if he's not careful.
Parker catches up to Eliot quicker than the hitter thought. She says, "You're not running away, are you?"
"No Parker. I'm not going anywhere. Like I said before, 'til my dying day', and I meant every word." Eliot says quite easily just as he enters the Brewpub kitchen. Thankfully there's only one cook right now otherwise the hitter would've been flushed with embarrassment at the proclamation.
Parker widely grins, teeth bared and all. "Good." She says in that satisfactory way she does when she's allowed to steal something totally irrelevant to a job.
Eliot nods, taking out some onions to prep for the morning rush. Parker disappears once more, and all is normal again except for the fact that Eliot has to figure out what to move to Parker and Hardison's - and now - his room above the Brewpub. As he's chopping, a goofy smile is planted on his face that stays for the rest of the day. If anyone catches onto it, they don't dare comment.
Maybe, if Parker and Hardison really are willing to wait, Eliot can accept being happy with them and maybe, just maybe, he'll have the courage to say "I love you" without reservation. But until that time, 'Til my dying day' is a phrase that works just fine as any other confession.