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The first thing he heard was the water bubbling down the river, with distant bird song and the muffled hum of city traffic.
As he became more aware of himself and his surroundings, all he felt was the dull throbbing all over his body, followed quickly by wet cold mud seeping through his clothes as he was laying prone on the riverbank.
He forced his eyes open, bright yellows mixed with browns and greens slowly came into focus, before solidifying as a patch of dandelions.
He blinked, then blinked again.
What am I doing here? He thought to himself, as he haltingly levered himself upright.
“ELIOT! Damn is he okay?” came a worried voice in his ear.
As he looked around, he spotted a- well, it looked like a collision had happened, just up the hill from the riverside. And, huh, as he followed the path down from the crash, he could see exactly where he had slipped on the damp muddy grass which was likely the cause of his current aches.
“Get in!” a woman called from across the river. He turned to look and yep, that’s Parker, hanging out from the back of Lucille Mark 5.
He gave one last look over his shoulder to make sure that the collision had caused the diversion they needed to get rid of their pursuers before jogging across the, thankfully shallow, river to get to her.
As soon as he got close enough to the back of the van, Parker hauled him inside.
“Step on it Hardison!” she exclaimed as she slammed the back doors shut behind them.
“Situation Report,” she followed up with, looking to Eliot.
He stretched a little bit, tensing and flexing muscles and limbs before nodding at her.
“Everything is in place, just a few aches from slipping down that hill, nothing that won’t go away after a good night’s rest,” he said with a small smile on his face.
Parker nodded before looking around the back of the van and pulling out the first aid supply box. She grabbed the antiseptic and a small bandage, indicating for him to lean forward.
He shuffled closer to her, and she dabbed at a spot on his forehead with the antiseptic before gently pasting the bandage on, and giving it a gentle kiss.
“There, all better!” she smiled. Eliot’s smile softened.
“It’s always better when you do it.”
She grinned before reaching behind her back and procuring the jewel encrusted pencil that Joanne Rowling had embedded the NFC key to her bitcoin empire into.
“Good, other than that, the heist was a success, and Hardison can use this to bring her down,” she grinned.
“Hell, yeah mama, you know without her funding the entire government of the United Kingdom to deny the rights of transgender people and their healthcare, they will be able to turn all those stupid laws around in the courts!” Hardison exclaimed from the cab of the van.
“Just get us home Hardison,” Eliot sighed, leaning back against the wall of the van.
“As you wish,” Alec quoted, and Eliot could hear the grin in his voice.
He rolled his eyes at Parker as a soft smile overtook his face, yes, their nerd had just quoted the princess bride at them.
“Eliot was the one who fell down a hill, not you though?” Parker stated, tilting her head while the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.
“I’m sure I could find a hill to push him down,” Eliot ribbed playfully.
“Hey! No! None of that, I’m too delicate to be pushed down a hill!” Hardison exclaimed.
When they got back to Portland, Eliot immediately went into the kitchen and washed his hands before pulling out one of his many baking books.
He flipped through the pages, before finally landing on beer battered pretzels and grinned. This was the perfect dish.
He started on the process as he heard Hardison typing away at his computer, muttering strings and variables under his breath as he worked on tying up all of the loose ends.
As soon as the pretzels were out of the oven, he looked up to see Parker watching him from the rafters, and he patted the counter next to him for her to sit down.
She rappelled down and looked over the hot bread.
“Want to help me decorate them?” he asked as he held out the bowl of coarse salt to her.
She beamed before focusing and carefully placing the salt in patterns and whirls around the pretzels.
“What’s Alec’s contribution to these?” she asked softly.
“It’s his beer,” Eliot whispered back, grinning.
He looked at the final product, soft, mouth-wateringly delicious, and perfectly designed for them. He couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate the day that they first came together, all those years ago, atop a windy rooftop in Chicago.