akblake

When the floor fell out from under them and the world fell, Bilbo found himself clutching onto Bofur’s jacket for dear life. They bounced painfully off rock outcroppings and if the dwarf hadn’t returned Bilbo’s desperate hold, they’d have been sent tumbling in different directions. As it was, they landed together before both were squished under the combined weight of Fíli and Kíli.

Chaos reigned even before they could stumble to their feet as goblins swarmed the group and Bilbo found himself shoved into the center, behind Ori, with a snarling Dwalin to his left and Bifur shielding his right. Clawed hands slapped and grabbed at them all but Bilbo remained out of the worst of it as the taller dwarves provided a living, breathing shield around him. He couldn’t see where they were being driven until their tormentors abruptly retreated to leave them standing huddled in an open area. Bilbo peeked around Ori’s body and shuddered- whatever the thing before them was, it offended both sight and scent.

Pustules swarmed over it like flies on rotted meat, every bit of its flesh sagged and flopped with each of its grandiose movements, and it reeked of incontinence with a following odor of soured open sores. Bilbo’s sensitive nose wrinkled and he ducked his head back around Ori without complaint when a dwarf behind him tugged at his shoulder to remind him to remain hidden. He wasn’t a fighter and he knew it, so he wasn’t going to draw attent… no, that just would not do!

“No need to torture anyone, your Magnificence,” Bilbo interrupted and stepped quickly to the side, away from the youngest dwarves, the company themselves, and any protective hands that could haul him back from this huge mistake he’s made. “We truly are on our way to the Iron Hills; they wish to visit family and I wish to procure a trade agreement for pipeweed. We’ve found that dwarves are incredibly fond of our Longbottom leaf and are willing to pay handsomely for it, hence my personal visit to sign a contract with their King’s Master of Trade.”

The creature seemed to preen with Bilbo’s compliment and not truly listen to the hastily-concocted lie which followed. Rheumy eyes squinted after a few seconds and the hideous thing pushed its head closer which made Bilbo step backwards as his nose was assaulted by its odor. A goblin roughly shoved him forward again, right into the thing’s face and Bilbo could see its abscess-laden chins far closer than his stomach ever wished to. “And what, exactly, would a tender, tasty morsel such as yourself be doing with a pack of dwarves? They’re greedy, hoarding creatures that hold no tenderness for others outside their own people. Why, you’d barely be a snack to a hungry warg, tiny as you are!”

Bilbo truly didn’t like the hungry look in the monstrosity’s eyes, or how its mouth grew damp enough for spittle to fly as it spoke of snacks. He certainly didn’t all this talk about being eaten, as it made the goblins behind him shriek and claw at each other with excitement. “I’m paying them to escort me, of course. I’m no warrior, as you’ve pointed out, and have paid for my place in their party as they travel.” A raised eyebrow from the fetid goblin was the only clue Bilbo received that his lie had been seen through before a screeching weight dropped onto his shoulders and sent him stumbling towards the edge.

He could hear shouts and clangs ring in his ears, but couldn’t spare any focus for them as he twisted and fought to dislodge the biting, clawing menace. His feet hit damp wood, and then the world fell out from under him for the second time that night as the boards crumbled beneath his toes and sent him tumbling into the dark. What sounded like Gandalf's booming voice echoed from above before a brilliant flash of white light illuminated the black crevasse and Bilbo grabbed for anything that could slow his fall, but his nails only scraped the surface of rocks, and the only rope within his grasp tore loose from his hold with a jerk that sent fiery agony up his arm and shoulder. Not too long after, Bilbo’s head glanced off a rock and he went limp as a fog descended in his mind, dulling the fear and pain. His abrupt landing below sent him into darkness.

***

Shouts and calls brought Bilbo back to himself, and he fought to haul himself upright from the tangled sprawl he’d become. As he forced his arms and legs to obey, the world slowly cleared until he could mostly remember how he ended up in the middle of a fungus pile. “Here! I’m…” Bilbo tried to call and had to clear his throat before his voice stopped wavering. “I’m right here!” He stumbled out onto clear ground and into a body which immediately moved to support him when a bout of dizziness sent his footing awry. Bilbo yelped and cradled his left arm close as the body, Dwalin he belatedly realized, released it and allowed the dwarf to instead hold onto his waist.

“Move, and keep quiet!” another voice hissed and Bilbo could barely make out Nori’s shape in the gloom. He obediently bit back his questions and followed behind as Nori led them along a twisting path between sheer rock walls which, at times, seemed so close that the dwarves couldn’t possibly fit. They did, however, and Dwalin’s hands found his waist in support any time Bilbo stumbled or listed. Balance, always a tricky thing for him, was especially difficult in this case as the knock to his head and the darkness wreaked havoc with his senses. Bilbo could have cried out with joy when they snaked around a corner and he spied daylight shining through a fissure- they were free!

Eyes stinging in the bright sunlight, Bilbo couldn’t make out shapes beyond blobs and a tall grey blur that could only be Gandalf, but his ears caught the voices of his friends and he mentally counted all thirteen as they spoke. They’d survived. Relief washed through him and his bruises seemed to throb anew now that other worries weren’t occupying his mind. Bilbo blinked rapidly and forced his eyes to slit open enough to watch where gentle hands guided him- they’d set up a small camp at the foot of the mountains, and already had a cauldron of water heating over a small fire. Bedrolls weren’t laid out, but packs had been discarded haphazardly beside rocks which appeared as if they’d been pulled around to make a ring of seats. They actually were seats, he discovered, as he was guided to sit on one.

“Are you well, Master Baggins?” asked a voice which could only belong to Thorin, and Bilbo blinked at the dark, fuzzy shape before him, not quite believing that the same Thorin who spat horrible words at him just that past night could be the same dwarf before him now.

Bilbo gathered his scattered mind and managed, “Not entirely, I’m afraid.” A firm hand guided his chin upwards, and his eyes watered anew as he directly faced the sun’s light. Fingers carefully probed at his face, revealing painful spots which he hadn’t even noticed yet, and which must be bruises and scrapes from the tumbles he took. He irritably pulled back and the hands didn’t follow, for which he was thankful. The pain must have cleared his mind a bit, as he could now see the thoughtful frown on Thorin’s face as the dwarf seemed to look over his hunched form. As long as the dwarf refrained from any more insults, Bilbo was perfectly willing to sit quietly on his rock and allow the scrutiny. His shoulder hurt rather abominably and he truly didn’t feel up for any verbal sparring. Actually, he mentally corrected as the world shifted to the left again, he didn’t feel up for anything at all, much less sitting upright.

Hands he couldn’t see interfered with Thorin’s and carefully guarded his sore shoulder as they helped him upright again. This time, though he was guided to lean back against a solid chest by arms which came around his belly to hold him steady. Bilbo muzzily considered that he was practically sitting in Dwalin’s lap, and it could only be Dwalin from the tattoos he could see, and discarded the thought of struggling or insisting on sitting alone. He’d already tried that, for starters, and it hadn’t gone well, so Bilbo quietly trusted his weight to the dwarf as he watched the camp with eyes that didn’t appreciate the bright sunlight, but were clearing.

He watched Óin turn back to a flinching Kíli while Thorin leaned against the rock beside Dwalin’s knee. “Are the others injured too?” Bilbo forced through his lethargy, and he definitely recognized the effects of a knock to the head- skewed balance, sensitivity to light, fogginess, exhaustion… yes, he certainly recognized the symptoms as he’d fallen out of a fair few trees when playing with his Took cousins as a faunt.

“Bruises and scratches for the most part,” Thorin answered even as he glared Kíli into stillness once again. “Kíli cut his arm on a splintered railing, and Óin felt it best that the gouge be thoroughly scrubbed clean as those creatures left their filth on every surface and he doesn’t want to tend a soured wound later.”

Bilbo couldn’t help the little laugh which escaped. “Doesn’t look as if Kíli appreciates that precaution,” he noted dryly. Indeed, Thorin’s youngest nephew twitched and fidgeted as Óin dug deeply into the short bloody gash in search of dirty splinters. As the sight made his queasy stomach roll a bit, Bilbo closed his eyes and simply rested against Dwalin. He was curious why the two dwarves were indulging him when before they had ignored or disparaged him, but couldn’t be bothered to ask. He couldn’t even stir up much irritation with the metal circle thing on Dwalin's chest which dug into the back of his head with each breath the dwarf took. After a time, he drifted off to the sun’s warmth and hum of indistinct words as Dori fussed over Ori.

***

A hand thumped onto his knee, startling him into awareness with a painful jump, and he opened his eyes to find himself eye to eye with a crouching Óin. “You didn’t answer when I called, lad, have you injured your ears?” he asked, and Bilbo tried to push himself attentively upright only to hiss as he knocked his elbow out of Dwalin's hand and his arm’s full weight pulled at his shoulder again. He clenched his jaw against the hot rush of agony to keep a loud cry behind his teeth. Dwalin captured his elbow again almost immediately, but the injured muscles protested with waves of spasms that made him hunch over before Dwalin's arm over his belly came up and gently pulled him upright again. Óin helped by pushing a large hand against the top of his chest, just below his collarbones, and held him back against Dwalin's bulk.

“Breathe, lad, don’t forget to breathe,” Óin reminded and Bilbo gulped down a breath which caught in his throat. He held it until the urge to cough passed, and then tried a gentler exhale. Behind him, Dwalin conspicuously breathed in slowly, and Bilbo followed the obvious hint to match. It went down much easier, and his body began to unwind itself again. “Now, Master Baggins, where do you hurt?” Óin prompted.

Bilbo took another steadying breath and mentally checked with his body. Since his nap, his headache had eased a bit and his various bruises and scrapes no longer burned so fiercely. “The worst of it seems to be my shoulder; think I wrenched it in the second fall,” he answered, and ignored Thorin’s intruding presence as the dwarf explained to Óin that Bilbo had also hit his head at some point. “Yes, I did hit my head, but it’s no worse than other bumps I’ve taken.”

“I’ll still have a look, if you don’t mind, just to be sure there’s nothing to worry over- head injuries can be sneaky devils and I’d rather we not be surprised later with complications,” Óin reasoned, and Bilbo couldn’t argue with his logic. Óin gently explored his scalp with careful fingers and found several sore spots, likely from their first tumble and landing in a pile of armored dwarves, before he brushed up against one which made Bilbo flinch. It was just above and behind his right ear and made him duck his head away from the probing fingers.

Óin gave him a firm look before he followed Bilbo’s movement to fully examine the spot before he sat back on his heels. “Well, lad, I’d say that you had the right measure of it. There’s a knot the size of an egg over your ear with a small cut that’s already stopped bleeding. We’ll give that a good wash later when we set up camp, but I don’t want to disturb the scab now and start it bleeding again- head wounds bleed like nothing else and it’s better to leave this one alone for a bit. Now, let’s see what damage you’ve done to that shoulder of yours,” Óin gestured, and then batted Bilbo’s fingers out of the way as he went to unbutton his shirt one-handed. “I’ll be taking care of that, no need to jostle yourself about and set off that shoulder again,” he reprimanded.

Given no choice in the matter, Bilbo gave a tiny sigh and allowed the healer to push his poor ruined vest aside to finish unbuttoning his shirt. His backrest vanished as Dwalin leaned back to give Óin enough room to ease the fabric down behind his shoulder, and Bilbo sucked in air through clenched teeth because the entire thing, though gently done, still jostled painfully.

Óin gave him an apologetic look before he began pushing blunt fingers around the socket, and Dwalin had to firmly pin his belly in place as Bilbo writhed away from the examination. “You’ve definitely done yourself a true injury here,” the dwarf exclaimed as he finished squeezing into muscle to feel the bones underneath.

Bilbo protectively brought up his other hand to cup around his throbbing shoulder, and he curled in on himself. He wasn’t a healer, but even he could see that the joint was far more than simply wrenched- it was angular, sunken, and just looked wrong. After Óin’s poking, though, he was very certain that he didn’t want it touched again any time soon!

“Well, it’s been pulled out of the joint, and we’ll need to put it back in,” Óin bluntly diagnosed, and Bilbo shuddered. He’d seen a man once, in Bree, put another man’s shoulder back in joint by yanking on it. The other man had bellowed so loudly that he frightened the pigs two streets over, and Bilbo felt horror freeze his insides as he considered the dwarf before him.

Built by their Maker to be sturdy and strong, Óin was wider yet than half of the company, and one entire hand could easily wrap around his entire upper arm. Nope! “Are there any, any settlements of men nearby?” Bilbo managed to ask around his suddenly dry throat. Óin’s eyebrows furrowed before he leaned back a bit to look over to Bilbo’s right. Partially fearful of a trick distraction, Bilbo chanced a quick glance to see Thorin’s fingers motioning something. He felt doubly wary now.

“What would you want with men? They barely know which end of a needle holds thread, much less how to handle a little fellow like you, and there isn’t a town of men within several days’ ride,” Óin barked, and Bilbo’s heart sank.

“It’s only, I’ve seen a shoulder put back in, and you’re strong enough that I’m afraid you’ll yank my arm right off with one pull. I’m not built to the same scale as dwarves, is what I mean.” Bilbo watched Óin again glance sideways at Thorin for more finger motions, and realized that there wasn’t a hidden trick in it- without his ear trumpet, Óin couldn’t hear speech clearly and the finger motions must have been a sort of silent language, or pantomime for him.

Óin turned back to examine Bilbo closely again for a moment before he spoke. “Master Baggins, I’ve been a healer for more than a century, and in that time I’ve held newly-born babes, helped younglings after games and explorations went awry, and worked on dwarves who yet act as younglings,” Óin tipped his head back to indicate Kíli. “I can vouch, as can most of this company, that I well know my own strength; you’ll not come to additional harm at my hands,” he vowed. Behind him, Bilbo could feel Dwalin nod in agreement.

Bilbo considered the offer carefully. On the one side, he knew full well that the injury did need tending else he’d lose the use of the arm completely. On the other side, Óin’s abilities were unknown and potentially harmful if the dwarf forgot that hobbits couldn’t take rough handling like dwarves could. The one detail which caught his attention and kept distracting him from his thoughts was that the dwarves had settled themselves and seemed to be patiently awaiting his answer. They didn’t appear impatient, or poised to force him into compliance the moment he looked away…

“Why are you lot suddenly being so nice?” he blurted out, and then clapped his good hand over his mouth with shock at how rude that managed to sound. That hadn’t been what he’d intended to say, not one bit!

Though none of them yelled in outrage at his lip, he did hear a few poorly-muffled snickers from the rest of the company, who he only just realized had gathered carefully on the ground around their small fire in the best positions to watch his goings-on. Ori even appeared to have forgotten his job of stirring whatever bubbled away in the pot suspended above it. Bilbo firmly redirected his attention away from the busybodies. Óin appeared amused, if a bit surprised, and Thorin only blinked at him a bit blankly with obvious confusion. Dwalin took a deep breath, startling him as his backrest suddenly moved, and recommended, “Let’s see you looked after first- shoulder of yours can’t wait till later but talk can. We need to put more forest between us and these mountains before we lose the daylight and those goblins are free to roam.”

He certainly couldn’t fault that logic, as Bilbo had absolutely no desire to meet goblins again; could actually pass the rest of his life quite happily if he never saw another goblin, if his opinion were asked. “Then I will be grateful for your aid, Master Óin,” he invited with all the manners his father had drilled into him.

At his invitation, Ori used a cup to scoop something out of the cooking pot, added water from a skin Fíli offered, and brought it over. Bilbo accepted, but gave him a bit of a blank look- he was about to have his shoulder painfully yanked back into place… a hot drink would be soothing, but this attempt at tea smelled a bit, well, off.

“Oh, it’s white willow!” Ori hurried to explain, and Óin tapped the cup’s bottom in a silent command for Bilbo to drink. “Only problem with it is that it’ll take a while before it dulls the pain, or at least that’s what Óin told Kíli.” He offered Bilbo an apologetic look, “I’ve never needed it before, so I wouldn’t know how well it works… or how it tastes, so I’d recommend drinking it quickly.”

Remembering some of the horrifically disgusting concoctions he’d had to drink when he took sick as a faunt, Bilbo sucked in a large breath before he gulped down the cup’s contents in one go. Even with the precaution it still left a bitter taste on his tongue, and he made a disgusted face as Ori reclaimed the cup. He braced himself for the nightmare to come, and nodded at Óin, “I believe I’m ready now, Master Óin.”

Dwalin and Óin both worked to ease Bilbo’s coat completely off, and Bilbo found his efforts stilled by gentle hands every time he tried to help them. Eventually, he simply sat passively and let them move him however they wished to remove his jacket and vest, and then push his shirt down so it hung from his wrists. Bilbo couldn’t imagine why his upper body needed to be bare- he was bruised from top to toe, yes, but they were only going to reset his shoulder, right? He thought about asking, but Óin’s hands gripped his arm and rotated it to bring his hand out as if asking for a handshake, and Bilbo instead gritted his teeth in anticipation of the coming pain.

Óin’s bushy eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Lad, I can’t help you at all if you don’t relax,” he scolded, and Bilbo tried to relax, he honestly did. It just didn’t work well when he was expecting his arm to be yanked off and he told Óin as much.

“Now, why would I go pulling on the thing? It’s already out of joint as it is, Master Baggins; I’m trying to put it back in, not cost you the use of it entirely! Now, sit up straight, there’s a lad- push your shoulders back a bit, and relax,” the dwarf scolded gruffly. Bilbo found himself automatically following Óin’s orders and blinked with surprise when the top of his back thumped into Dwalin's chest.

“Now, do your best to relax your arm, and no slouching!” Óin shuffled over so he wasn’t squatting directly in front of Bilbo, and repositioned Bilbo’s arm. Now the dwarf’s wide left hand supported Bilbo's elbow while he encouraged Bilbo’s hand to rest on his forearm.

As this wasn’t anything like what he saw with the men in Bree, Bilbo truly didn’t have any idea what Óin planned to do and nearly jumped out of his skin when the dwarf reached up to begin massaging the muscle that sat between his neck and shoulder. It wasn’t the gentle massage he’d occasionally seen his parents exchange, this hurt and felt like Óin was trying to dig his blunt fingers through the muscle.

“Don’t squirm,” Óin chastised, and Dwalin set a hand on Bilbo’s other shoulder to help keep him from leaning away, “your muscles around the joint need to relax.” He shifted his focus to now knead the upper part of Bilbo’s arm. “Once your joint separates, the muscles tighten as a response, and they end up keeping the bones separated. It should slip back together on its own if I can make those muscles relax,” he explained.

Hurting more than he’d prefer to admit, Bilbo just kept his mouth shut and attempted not to tense up against the iron fingers attempting to knead his muscles into paste. He nodded, which is all Óin seemed to require as an acknowledgment, and pushed his studiously straight spine back into the fur of Dwalin's odd armor-clothing. As he moved, something in his shoulder shifted and he jerked with surprise at the odd feeling. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t normal either.

“Don’t move yet, lad, let me make sure it’s solidly back in or we’ll have to do this again,” Óin scolded as he carefully felt all around the joint, front and back, and rotated Bilbo’s arm to check its movement. “I do believe that it’s perfectly fine now, Master Baggins, but I expect you to tell me if your fingers start tingling or go cold- something in there may be pinched, and you can lose the use of your arm if you don’t speak up.”

“I will certainly let you know,” Bilbo promised, honestly so relieved to be pain-free that he’d have agreed to anything the dwarf asked. He let them maneuver him back into his shirt and vest and was quite thankful to finally be covered again as the wind had picked up. While they’d been occupied with putting his shoulder back together, heavy clouds moved in to cover the setting sun, and now the wind felt more cutting than refreshing.

“If you’re ready, we must move with all haste; the goblins will be seeking vengeance and remaining would not be wise,” Thorin ordered as he moved back into Bilbo’s sight and crossed to retrieve his own pack from beside the charred pile of ash where the little fire had been. Bilbo startled a bit at the sudden voice and movement, as he’d forgotten Thorin’s silent presence behind them; the dwarf hadn’t loomed over them and hadn’t offered a single comment after he finished translating Bilbo’s words into that odd finger-language for Óin. As far as Bilbo knew, he hadn’t even moved- the dwarves were anything but silent, and the armor and weapons they loved so much would clink and creak with each breath.

Bilbo found himself eased to his feet and discovered that his constant dizziness had eased, either due to his nap or simple time. Either way, he was incredibly grateful to have lost one aggravation, especially as his bruises seemed to have bloomed into a full-body ache now that he wasn’t so focused on his shoulder. Instead of a screaming pain, it had settled to a low ache which he could happily live with, especially when the memory of it remained quite fresh in his mind. At a clank of metal on stone behind him, he turned to see Dwalin stand and blinked away a throb in his temple at the sudden movement. His dizziness may have faded, but his headache yet remained, and he knew from experience that he’d feel it for the next day or two.

“Have another cup of willow- it should help with your head,” Ori handed him another cup as soon as Bilbo turned around, and he choked it down while trying to keep his stomach from revolting. It had gone cold, must have been the last cup left before the small pot was packed away, but the temperature still didn’t do anything to make it any more palatable. Bilbo blinked as his jacket was tucked around his shoulders by large hands, but he didn’t end up with his own pack- he spied it with Kíli, who’d stacked it atop his own.

The rest of the dwarves shouldered their packs, far faster than they moved on most mornings, and before Bilbo knew it, they were moving away from the mountain at a rapid clip, nearly a dash. He did notice that everyone was moving stiffly, pained, but didn’t have the breath to ask why as they all rushed through the trees in a race against the sun. Bilbo stumbled over his own clumsy and aching feet in a rush of dizziness and a pair of arms deftly scooped him up. “Curl up a bit, Master Baggins,” Dori’s voice gently ordered, not even the slightest out of breath despite his run, and Bilbo flushed but complied. The position did create a place for him to tuck his arm, take the strain off his shoulder, but being carried in the dwarf’s arms made him feel like an embarrassed faunt who’d fallen and scraped his knees. Still, it was better than running through a forest with his aching head and body so Bilbo pragmatically resigned himself to being carried, though he couldn’t overcome the flush he felt warming his face.

***

By the time they stopped at sunset when the forest’s shadows darkened too much for safe passage, Bilbo was more than ready to sit quietly on the bedroll where Dori placed him. Someone had been kind enough to set it up for him, but Bilbo had no idea who it could have been and honestly didn’t care at the moment beyond being grateful that he was still, quiet, and could sit in peace while the dwarves made camp and began dinner. His head was still spinning a bit from being shaken by Dori’s stride and right now he didn’t want to face food even though he knew that he’d have to eat later. Ori dropped down to sit beside him and offered a fresh waterskin, still wet and cold from being refilled in the stream Bilbo could hear burbling nearby.

“My brother will likely lecture you later about keeping yourself safe, Master Baggins, but I wanted to thank you for trying to save me from the goblins. That was incredibly brave of you!” the young dwarf enthused gratefully. Bilbo smiled and patted Ori’s knee despite not knowing exactly which dwarf was his brother. The relationships between the dwarves all appeared complex and Bilbo hadn’t felt comfortable about asking them to clarify their family ties. Hobbits considered such to be prime dinner conversation, but he’d already learned that dwarves held different manners and didn’t wish to misstep even more than he already had.

“Well, I couldn’t just hide behind you like a terrified mouse while those nasty things were discussing torturing you and Kíli, now could I?” Bilbo replied a bit rhetorically, bemused at this entire situation now that he didn’t hurt too badly, and couldn’t believe how much energy Ori still had after escaping from goblins and running for hours.

“You weren’t one of us before, didn’t owe us, and we wouldn’t have blamed you for keeping silent. You’re little and not a dwarf, but you still helped, and I thank you for that,” Ori reached over and gently gave him a little hug before he abruptly scrambled up and darted over to join his brothers in setting up their bedrolls. Bilbo shook his aching head at the enthusiasm of youth; it truly could overcome anything.

Creaks of leather and a muffled clinking alerted Bilbo to a dwarf walking up behind him, who must have been the one to send Ori scurrying, and a pair of metal-tipped boots came to rest just to the left of his bedroll. He looked up, and then even further up, to see Thorin’s profile before his balance abruptly gave way to another bout of dizziness. “If you want to talk, then I’ll invite you to sit, Master Thorin,” Bilbo fell back on his manners even as he nearly fell over. His good arm caught his weight before he bowled over completely onto his back, and Thorin helped right him before the dwarf knelt down. Bilbo looked askance at the odd choice, but then reconsidered that perhaps sitting with that much leather and armor just wouldn’t be comfortable, and struggling to rise again afterwards wouldn’t look terribly dignified.

“Shall I call Óin over for you, Master Baggins?” Thorin asked with obvious concern. He maintained a steady and easy gaze which Bilbo found disconcerting after the past few months of being glared at or dismissed.

“No, no, I’m quite alright. Taken enough knocks to the head in my life to know that the dizziness should pass by morning; it’s nothing serious and not worth bothering Master Óin over,” Bilbo waved away the offer.

Thorin nodded thoughtfully. “If you’re certain, then,” he appeared to hesitate before continuing. “You asked a question before which there wasn’t time enough to answer and I would do so now, if you’ll allow?”

Bilbo nodded cautiously and gestured for the dwarf to continue.

“You asked why we were being kind to you, with the implication that we hadn’t previously provided care. I must admit that you were treated shamefully, and for that I offer to you an apology.” Thorin waited, and after moments of silence Bilbo realized that he was truly being offered an apology and not just the polite words.

“Oh, accepted and forgiven, of course,” he hurriedly stammered and Thorin gave him a deep nod, the closest to a bow that he’d seen from the dwarf.

“We were suspicious of your addition and did not possess your full measure. We also did not seek it. That is to our shame and nearly to our loss, as we’ve come to realize. I owe my personal thanks to you as Kíli is my sister’s son, second of my heirs, and you stood in his defense to bandy words with that putrid excrescence at the near cost of your own life. Gandalf may have helped us fight our way free of the caves, but you acted to spare others from torment, and that stands as a testament to your compassion.”

Bilbo sputtered at the flattering words, but Thorin continued speaking over his scattered noises. “I have already asked that Dori not approach you until he can offer thanks without attaching a lecture to them,” Bilbo could see Thorin’s lips quirk up in a small grin, the most he’d ever seen from the dwarf, “so you shall have a day or two’s grace before he descends. He’d be lost without Ori to dote upon, and you’ve earned steadfast loyalty from all three brothers with your actions.” Thorin paused to watch the fire flicker, and Bilbo thought that the odd conversation was finished. When the dwarf’s voice sounded again he started, caught drifting in exhaustion.

“You have also earned the gratitude of every dwarf here, Master Baggins, including myself. They will each show their regard in small ways, but should you ever have a need of us, simply ask and we will come. I name you dwarf-friend, Bilbo Baggins, for your selfless protection of my people,” Thorin stood easily with a creak of leather, and formally bowed low to Bilbo.

“Oh! Erm, thank you,” Bilbo managed, completely at a loss as Shire manners never covered this. Thorin’s face was softer than usual, and Bilbo suspected that the sneaky dwarf enjoyed Bilbo’s discomfiture even as he offered formal thanks.

Thorin opened his mouth to reply, only to snap into wary defense as the undergrowth around their camp rustled. Swords and axes were drawn, only to sag in the hands of their wielders when Gandalf bustled into sight.

“I’ve erased our scent from the trail, so the goblins won’t have anything to follow should they descend from their caves,” the wizard stated without preamble. He sat himself by the fire and appeared to busy himself with his waterskin’s closure, completely ignoring the startled looks he received.

The dwarves quickly adjusted, accepted his words, and carried on with their duties as Thorin offered Bilbo a slight nod of parting before he joined Gandalf in quiet conversation. Likely planning tomorrow’s march, Bilbo suspected, from the hand waving and pointing at Thorin’s map. Bilbo quickly lost interest in favor of the soup and tea Fíli brought.

Fíli didn’t speak, only gave him a serious nod, and Bilbo finally realized that Kíli must have been his kin, likely his brother given their seemingly close ages; their alike-sounding names also being an obvious clue that he’d missed, but Fíli’s solemn gratitude told him that the two inseparable dwarves were more than close friends, despite their dissimilar appearances. Thinking about which dwarf could be related to which left Bilbo’s head aching worse, and so he addressed himself to the soup until his bowl emptied. The tea he dithered over, as he now recognized the scent of white willow, but as the previous two doses had significantly dulled the pain, Bilbo held his breath and swallowed quickly.

He set the cup and bowl aside to be washed later, justifying his laziness with the knowledge that if he tried to crouch over the stream to wash them, he’d likely lose his balance and fall in. Washing was a job better left until his dizziness faded, and his exhaustion eliminated the idea of staying up to chat with the dwarves for a few more hours. Bilbo laid back on his bedroll, situated his arm comfortably under his blanket, and let himself drift off to sleep. He’d had quite the busy and taxing day, after all, but he felt certain that it could only get better from here now that he had friends. Yes, the worst was behind him, he sleepily congratulated himself.

“Oh for the love of God. Sherlock,” John bellowed from the bathroom where he just stepped out of the shower, “get in here and get this thing! You promised that they couldn’t escape!” His shout was met by his roommate’s madly pounding feet as Sherlock dashed to unceremoniously throw the bathroom door open.

“Don’t smash it!” He ordered, nearly knocking his towel-clad friend back into the tub in his haste to collect the wayward escapee. Sherlock gently cradled the massive cockroach in his long fingers and brought the hissing monstrosity close to his face, as if inspecting it for any damage John may have done to it. John merely looked less than impressed with his antics.

“Sherlock, get out of the bathroom. I’d like to get dressed and I refuse to do so with both you and that thing in here with me.” John was rather proud that he managed to keep his voice low and civil, and that he hadn’t beaten his roommate about the head with the toilet brush. He was saving that possibility for another time, as even a bin of Madagascar hissing Cockroaches didn’t top the list of distressing things he’s found in the apartment.

Sherlock merely looked at him pityingly, still cradling the monstrosity, and sniped, “You have a boringly Puritanical view of modesty, John.  Neither I nor the experiment are impeding your ability to…” His voice trailed off at the look of absolute fury which was directed his way. Such looks would normally be met with disdain at most, but he keenly remembered John’s abilities and much preferred his person unharmed.

“Either get out of the bloody bathroom with that, or I’ll knock you over the head and flush the damned thing!” John threatened, his voice rising now beyond his control. Maggots in his sock drawer he could handle (after forcing Sherlock to replace the contents), heads in the refrigerator didn’t truly shock him anymore (resulting in the purchase of a second refrigerator just for food), but finding the gigantic insect perched on the bath mat was an unpleasant shock. Sherlock slowly backed out of the bathroom, meekly snagging the doorknob and closing the door behind him. John violently blew out a breath of air before moving to check his pile of clothing on the sink. Wouldn’t do for that thing to have brought friends along on its escape!

Fully dressed and feeling collected enough to deal with the mad genius, emphasis on the mad, John stepped out of the bathroom and nearly into Sherlock. They both started in surprise then Sherlock held out what appeared to be a cup of perfectly-brewed tea. John accepted the saucer and cup, looking askance at both.

“To calm… Err, to say… That is,” Sherlock stumbled over his words, looking completely out of his depth. He paused, took a breath, and then tried again, “I’m sorry. I did promise that the cockroaches couldn’t escape their bin, and obviously have failed.” He sounded a bit stilted, but still sincere. At John’s holding the cup of tea aloft, he hurried to explain, “As an apology, I made tea. I’ve observed that ninety-three percent of the time you desire a cup of tea immediately after showering and made a cup to save you from having to make the effort.”

Remembering a past unsolicited drink, John had to question his intentions. “What’s in this, Sherlock? Sugar? Milk? An experimental hallucinogenic drug?”

Sherlock briefly looked frustrated at John’s suspicion, then snatched the cup and drank a mouthful. “No drugs in it, only tea, sugar, and milk. I’m ashamed of you John- I would never drug you the same way twice! You would be expecting it, as you just did, and that would skew the data.” He walked away, apparently bored with his apology, and John had to fight a grin. He enjoyed getting Sherlock’s goat, though he now had disturbing visions of his next curry being drugged.

He was walking into the living room when the silence was shattered by another scream, this one from the floor below. “Sherlock, get down here and get this disgusting thing!” Mrs. Hudson yelled, followed by several loud crashes and bangs. Sherlock froze, guiltily looked toward the cockroach bin, and then dashed off to save yet another escapee.

John merely grinned as he settled himself into his chair. He’d let someone else deal with the mad idiot for a few minutes while he enjoyed his cup of tea. At least they’d figured out that the shop owner couldn’t have accidentally fallen to his death in the pet store’s large display bin of Hissers; given that none of the buggers had escaped after, it clearly took a person on the outside to dump the body in and close up the lid to keep them in. They’d all be thankful if Sherlock would only do the same!

Another particularly loud crash, this time followed by an inarticulate yell, lead him to believe that Mrs. Hudson didn’t have his restraint about hitting Sherlock. John merely chuckled and sipped his tea.

Eliot ignored the cummerbund pressing the hidden knife up into his kidneys, and the tie around his neck which felt like an anaconda he’d had the misfortune of running afoul of in a little Colombian backcountry. In his arms was an astounding goddess, and he didn’t want to miss a moment.

“When… why…” he whispered in her ear as he tried to ask without risking offense.

Parker smirked as she lightly twirled to complete the dance step and settled back in closer. She spoke low to keep anyone from eavesdropping, “Of course I can dance, silly! Archie taught me when I was little because it’s good for learning balance, and because I wouldn’t always be able to get into parties as the help. Sometimes security is tight enough that slipping in an anonymous server is impossible, but a dumb blonde escort in a revealing dress is always waved through the receiving line.”

At her wisdom, Eliot had to nod. He’d seen it time and time again, and knew female assassins who used the discrimination to their benefit. He mentally snorted to himself- idiots who assumed that women were harmless creatures deserved everything they got. Through his earbud, Sophie was waxing lyrical about all the times she’d brazenly walked into high-security parties on the arm of some septuagenarian, and he tuned her out in favor of paying attention to his lithe dance partner. Parker easily followed his lead, stepping in and around to flare her skirt’s short hem, and Eliot enjoyed the feel of her in his arms far more than he should have. By her answering smirk and almost imperceptible caress of her fingers along his trapezius, Parker shared his thoughts.

Giving him a saucy look at the end of the dance, Parker heeded Sophie’s prompt. “I need to go powder my nose dear,” she airily claimed as she sashayed off in the direction of the bathrooms. Every male eye in the area checked out her form, even the security guards station around the nearby doors, as intended, which allowed Hardison to slip around the physical security elements he couldn’t spoof electronically. A few minutes later she returned, having broken into the safe for him to smuggle out their prize, rejoined Eliot and sat sipping the glass of champagne that he dutifully had waiting in his cover as her escort. After the previous day’s mangled plan, they were all relieved that this last bit had gone like clockwork.

Okay everyone, Hardison has the ledger in the van, time to go. Nate’s voice intruded in their ears and Eliot and Parker shared a look. They leaned together to look like they were sharing intimate conversation. “Nate, we’re going to finish the party. Parker’s been marked by several of the security guys, and if she disappears it’ll stick in their minds when the ledger is missed. We’ll head out with the rest of the guests, nice and easy,” Eliot countermanded.

“Yeah, Hardison can erase me on the cameras but he can’t erase the guards’ memories,” Parker chimed in, and they could all hear indignant sputtering from Hardison. Eliot had to check the automatic dig that came to mind, reminding himself that this wasn’t the time or place to tease Hardison.

They heard Nate grunt, sounding like he did when Sophie kicked him with the toe of her pointy shoes, Okay you two, finish the party and try not to draw any more attention. Keep your comms on and meet us back at the loft, he commanded, and they both agreed.

Once more, Parker fitted perfectly into his arms, and once more Eliot directed them around the dance floor. They easily avoided clumsier couples and now freed from the necessity of keeping focused on the job, kept their eyes firmly on each other, trusting their finely honed instincts to warn them of any problems. All too soon the party broke up and couples meandered down the outside steps, some leaving with partners other than those with whom they had arrived. Parker and Eliot tucked into the middle of the dispersing guests and waited for Eliot’s sports car to be delivered around. Parker’s dainty little hand remained happily tucked into the crook of Eliot’s elbow and he silently enjoyed what was left of their close time together.

Neither spoke about personal matters during their drive, though Parker’s hand strayed to tickle Eliot’s thigh as he drove, as their earbuds were still active and every word would be picked up by the eavesdropping trio back at Nate’s loft. Every inner voice cautioned him against dallying with a teammate, but he couldn’t see a single drawback. Parker wasn’t a woman who sought a long romance, or a white picket fence; she struck him as a woman who knew what she wanted, got it, and then moved on to the next pursuit. That mentality suited him perfectly, though they’d have to talk about it as little bit beforehand just to make sure they were both after a bit of short-term fun.

Stepping into Nate’s loft was like stepping into a wall of noise. “What the hell?!” Eliot snapped as he nearly rammed into Hardison while to avoid a flying stiletto which ricocheted from the stairs. Sophie’s voice carried above the crashes coming from the sleeping area, but her tone was so agitated that he couldn’t make out the exact words.

“I don’t know what Nate said or did, but she started up as soon as we got back and hasn’t stopped for a minute,” Hardison shouted above the commotion. “Didn’t think y’all needed to hear all this, so I muted your earbuds while I waited for you to get back.”

Eliot clapped him on the shoulder in gratitude and all three shared a look before hightailing it out of the loft. Hardison leaned against the door in relief as soon as it closed and they all relished the quiet. “Man, I don’t think I’ll stick around for their encore, you know? Got the ledger sent off with Thompson, and I can clean up our electronic tracks from my apartment instead, so I’ll see you two later, k?” he escaped down the hallway before Eliot or Parker could do more than wave. Silence reigned for all of five seconds.

“So, my place?” Parker chirped before Eliot could figure out a smooth segue. Catching his surprise, Eliot grinned and nodded, and the two darted back to his car. All thoughts of having a talk with her flew from his mind at the prospect of a very athletic and entertaining night; but then, with those two, words were rarely ever needed to understand each other.

Eliot groaned as he woke to pounding behind his eyes and an incredibly dry mouth. The side of his neck was sore, and when he felt the raised welt, he quickly put together the symptoms to determine that he’d been drugged with a sedative containing nightshade. Not the most pleasant of concoctions, but one he’d weathered through before. As the fog in his head cleared, he remembered a very important point- Hardison had been playing bodyguard along with him when the goons attacked. Frantic searching in the spotty light made his head pound worse, but also yielded Hardison’s unconscious body some distance away. From the cant of the container, and the heavy metal sides dotted with small holes, Eliot figured that they’d been tossed into a shipping container of some kind, one which was partially upended. Given that their mark owned a scrap yard, it made sense.

A quick check of Hardison’s body didn’t reveal any true damage, beyond the same scrapes and fresh bruises Eliot had from their tumble, he seemed to simply be drugged. “Hardison!” Eliot called, trying to wake the hacker, and was partially successful as his efforts brought sluggish movement. Eyes blinked open and before Hardison pulled away from the stray light beam with a hiss, Eliot was disheartened to see dilated pupils. He helped his friend sit up and lean back against the metal side. “We were drugged and tossed in here,” quickly summed up their situation.

“Where are we?” Hardison managed to ask though his speech was slurred; another clear warning sign for Eliot.

Sitting a few feet away, Eliot said, “I’m assuming one of Claygill’s scrap yards. Last I remember are the goons rushing in from the side, and they must have drugged us.”

“What goons, Emery? Thought you said t’ stay ‘way from ya,” Hardison replied and tried to scoot further away, but only succeeded in nearly falling over. Eliot quickly tried to prop him back up, but froze when Hardison cringed and brought his arms up to protect his ribs first, and then pointed off to the empty air to his right when Eliot backed off. “No! I ain’t hittin’ on ya, man, an’ ya don’t gotta warn me again! Jus’ don’t know where we is, is all,”

Truly alarmed now, Eliot sat as far away as far as he could, trying not to agitate Hardison. “Hardison! Do you remember what we were doing at the warehouse? Do you remember playing Sophie’s bodyguards?” he tried to prompt, seeing if the memories could break through the hallucination. What he remembered about nightshade wasn’t good- even a mild overdose caused severe symptoms like hallucinations, mess with his ability to sweat which could be deadly in the container’s heat, and damage his heart. Either they’d dosed Hardison too heavily or he was unbelievably sensitive to the nightshade in it.

Hardison blinked as he tried to process Eliot’s questions. “Ye-yeah, I remember. We were meeting the goons to exchange something, weren’t we?” he asked, and Eliot noticed that his speech was back to normal.

“We were, but they jumped us. We were drugged and thrown in here. You’re having a bad reaction to whatever they used,” Eliot tried to explain while keeping it fairly simple, certain that Hardison was still confused.

“That why I’m seeing things? Thought I was back at school again,” he tried to laugh it off, but it fell flat after his previous terror. “Look man, if I say anything…” Hardison obviously groped for the words, and Eliot stepped in.

“Anything you say in here will stay in here, okay? You can’t help what that shit is doing to your head.” He received a grateful nod before Hardison realized that moving his sore head was a very bad idea.

They sat in silence for a bit before Hardison groaned again and tried to stand. “Why ya jocks gotta beat a guy? Should take it as a compl’ment,” he fussed, and Eliot caught the shift in his words. This time he kept his seat, away from Hardison, and forced himself to simply watch as any attempts to help would only be seen as aggression. He didn’t need to rile the guy up in this heat.

“Why’d they beat you?” he asked, more to break the silence than any deep desire to poke into Hardison’s past.

Hardison gave him an incredulous look as he gave up on standing. “You a jock, Jason, should know why. Brotha’ say ya’ look good, ya’ beat ‘em. Learned m’lesson though, Alec don’ flirt with nobody.”

“Okay,” Eliot drawled, thrown by the information. “Would ‘I’m sorry’ help?” he offered, trying to keep Hardison calm.

“What are you sorry for, man?” Hardison replied after several minutes, and was obviously back in the present. He leaned his head back against the container’s wall and closed his eyes.

Eliot looked him over to make sure that he wasn’t heading for heatstroke or tachycardia, only dealing with a headache and dizziness caused by the reaction. “Apologizing on behalf of the jocks, apparently they were idiots.”

Hardison’s eyes popped open and he stared at Eliot, alarmed. “Oh man, wish that hadn’t come out!” he said, disgusted. “Look, that’s all part of my past, and I learned my lesson, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Worry about what? That you check out guys as well as girls? Trust me, that’s the least thing I’d complain about. You leaving soda bottles everywhere and not cleaning up after yourself is a bigger worry!” Eliot got a small grin for his efforts and considered it a win. They sat in silence for a longer time, each trying to deal with their own headaches and conserving energy. “Tell you what,” Eliot’s voice broke the stillness, “when they get us out of here, this jock will take you out on a date, how’s that sound?”

Hardison stared at him uncomprehendingly, and Eliot had the bizarre urge to ask if he’d spoken in Russian rather than English. “Look man, I don’t know why you’re offering, but I don’t date anymore. Safer that way,” he declined. Hardison’s face showed a mix of emotions, from regret to wariness, and Eliot’s imagination easily filled in some of those past encounters.

“You really think I’m going to hurt you?” he asked, and watched Hardison twitch as the guess hit home. “Just asking you out for dinner and a movie of your choice, even that one you were carrying on about yesterday. You know me, Hardison, would I try to hurt you?”

“Don’t know what to think, honestly, but it’s safer if I don’t,” Hardison reluctantly replied. He plainly wanted to accept, but fear held him back, and Eliot let the invitation lie. Hardison dozed off, worn out by his own body’s reaction, and Eliot kept silent guard in case the goons came back.

Sudden scrabbling at the container’s door, above their heads, brought them both to full alertness. Agonizingly bright sunlight poured in as the doors were opened, but the most welcome voice chirped, “Found them!” Eyes still trying to adjust, Eliot and Hardison simply leaned on each other in relief- the cavalry must have arrived if Parker’s presence was any indication. “Stay there guys, we’re throwing ropes down,” she called, and fit words to action as two ropes whapped them on the head.

“Could you aim a little better, Parker?” Eliot had to complain, but with far less heat than normal. They tied themselves onto the ropes, Eliot helping Hardison make a serviceable harness, and were unceremoniously dragged up the crate’s incline to the top. Some wriggling and struggling later, they were free and safely back on the ground.

Nate grinned as he inspected his two missing lambs. “Tracked your earbuds back to where they lost signal, and the idiots were kind enough to leave footprints all over the place,” he indicated the stack of metal containers behind them, including the one they just escaped, and sure enough- there were dusty work boot prints climbing all over them. Sophie pulled the van around then, still trailing the ropes she’d used to haul them out with, and they all piled in after picking up the equipment. Eliot insisted that Hardison be checked out by a medic buddy of his, carefully not revealing why, and Hardison simmered down after a pointed glare in his direction. Nightshade poisoning wasn’t something Eliot was willing to play around with as it could have left permanent damage. The others were curious, but shelved their questions after receiving glares of their own.

Hours and many bottles of water later, Eliot and Hardison were bedding down in Nate’s guest rooms; despite not knowing exactly what happened, but having an uncannily accurate guess, Nate had ordered the two to stay the night where he could keep an eye on them both. Eliot ambled into Hardison’s room and waited to be acknowledged. “You still have a date Friday. I’ll pick you up at six,” he stated and then left Hardison sputtering behind him. A promise was a promise, and Eliot wasn’t about to let his friend’s fear keep him from enjoying an “Eliot Spencer special”, particularly when Hardison was safe as houses when it came to this particular jock!

Eliot waited patiently for the best moment; he couldn’t move too soon or the mood wouldn’t be right, and too late would see him brushed off with excuses. As their dinner started to break up, he stood and crossed the dining area, getting a nod from Nate as he passed by. “Hey, Hardison, could I have a word?” Eliot quietly asked, drawing a concerned look from their hacker- he knew that he was stepping outside of his usual behavior, but it was for a good cause. Hardison agreed and followed Eliot into one of the pub’s storerooms.

“Look, I know it ain’t my place, but I gotta speak up,” he started, uncomfortably crossing his arms and then dropping them as he remembered Sophie’s advice. Unthreatening body language, right. “You and Parker are a good thing, okay?”

Hardison shuffled as he leaned back against a rack of dry goods, looking thoroughly confused at the topic. “Um, yeah, we’re great.” As Eliot silently fought with himself on how best to voice his concern, Hardison interrupted his thoughts. “If you gotta say something, just come out and say it; gotta be better than standing here watching you try to play diplomat.” A crooked grin took the sting out of his words and Eliot had to huff a light laugh- diplomacy wasn’t even close to his strong points, and he easily conceded the point.

“When we were locked in that vault a couple jobs back, Parker and I had time to talk, and since then I’ve made sure to pay attention. You ain’t doing right by her, Hardison.” Eliot held up his hands to stave off Hardison’s now-angry rebuttal. “She told me all about the robot things you take her to, or what she could understand about them, and about sitting around to watch you play your online games, but you know what? When I asked her what you do with her she just looked confused and couldn’t answer. In watching you two I’ve seen that everything you do together is something you set up, something you enjoy.”

Angrily, Hardison broken in, “She’s never said anything to me about being unhappy with the way we’re doing things, so what do you know about it? You never date the same woman twice!”

Eliot nodded. “My dating isn’t what we’re talking about. What I know about it is that Parker doesn’t have enough experience in proper dating, you’re the first she’s tried this with, and she doesn’t know how to tell you when something is wrong. She’s afraid that you’ll end up leaving her like everyone else in her life has.” Hardison’s face was now thoughtful and slightly ashamed, so Eliot moved in for the kill. “Parker is beautiful, loyal to a fault once she’s given her trust, and still views the world as a beautiful place. Rather than trying to change her, or brush off her input, she should be treated like the treasure that she is or someone else will come along and show her what a true partnership is.” Eliot glared meaningfully at Hardison, making it crystal clear who that someone would be. He loved Parker dearly, like the bratty little sister he’d never had growing up, but he knew that the threat of competition would shock Hardison and make his point stick.

“So, what- either I do what you say or you’ll try to steal her away? I don’t believe that for a minute, but you’ve made your point,” he sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Man, I don’t even like half the things she finds interesting, and the other half I swear are just creative ways of killing me. So what do I do?”

Eliot relaxed at that, having more half expected Hardison to take a swing at him. “You do what every man in the world does- you grit your teeth, smile through it, and do it because it makes her happy. At the end of the day, you gotta love her enough to put aside your own fears and step up.” He paused as a thought struck. “But if she ever wants you to go rock climbing with her, I won’t blame you a bit for backing out. Woman’s scary when she free climbs!”

Hardison vehemently agreed, apparently having already experienced the ‘joy’ of that particular experience. Eliot knew how he felt- he regularly found himself on the wrong end of guns and other assorted weapons, and yet the one time he’d agreed to go climbing with Parker had been the most terrifying experience in his life. Humans were never meant to move that way. Ever.

“Look, I’ll talk to Parker tonight and work on including more of her interests,” Hardison agreed and looked like he wanted to say more before changing his mind and closing his mouth.

Reading the look, Eliot simply nodded to accept the hacker’s gratitude and made his escape from the room. Maybe now Hardison could grow up a little and the next time he talked to Parker she wouldn’t be so sad and confused. For the entire hour they’d been trapped together, Eliot had been glad that the vault they in was completely dark when she began talking about how hurt she felt, and why- he couldn’t keep the emotion off of his face as she asked him if this was normal. It was also why he talked it over with Nate and waited a while before bringing it up; less chance of anger making him say the wrong thing.

------

Hardison dropped his keys into the bowl he used and walked over to join Parker in bed, studying her as he went. Eliot was right- she was a treasure, priceless beyond comprehension. “Eliot cornered me tonight, and made me realize how unhappy I was making you feel,” he started, picking up one of her deceptively delicate-looking hands and pulling her in for a cuddle. “I am so sorry, sweetheart.”

Parker interrupted his apology to twist around and pull him in for a fierce kiss. “I forgive you Alec,” she whispered against his lips before she settled back into his embrace. Both settled in for the night, cuddling was one of their favorite things to do as they dropped off to sleep, and both wanted to luxuriate in the relaxed air they’d built with just a few words.

-----

A/N: Just had to take a stab at ‘fixing’ a relationship which has always struck me as a little wrong, with how it’s treated in canon. Hardison always seemed a little immature and dismissive of Parker’s needs/likes. If we’d had a season six, it could very well have blossomed into a mature and respectful partnership, but it did improve a bit for season five. Mentally put this fic somewhere just after the first episode of season five, though I did play loose with the timing a bit.

“Now that can’t be right… come on sweetheart, why you gotta do this?” Hardison moaned as he caught a flashing sensor light. In particular, a light for a sensor in the brewpub’s basement which had no reason to be flashing- no one had gone into the basement, and the only door access to it was in plain sight from where he was sitting. He truly did not relish the thought of monkeying all around the basement, no matter how nearly-sterilized the cleaners he’d hired had left it, looking for the faulty circuit. Not his idea of the perfect Saturday! Still grumbling under his breath, Hardison grabbed his trusty wiring diagram and trudged over to the basement door, passing Parker and Eliot who appeared to be having a far better time watching some foreign kung-fu film on the projector; the lights were flipped on without his eyes leaving the diagram before he wrenched open the basement door, and thumped down the stairs… only to yelp and abruptly stop halfway down when his foot splashed ankle deep into water where there should have been a dry step. The wiring diagram was unceremoniously dropped out of his shocked fingers to reveal a very large indoor swimming pool where he didn’t remember having one installed.

Thumping footsteps in response to his yelp caught his attention as he swiftly backed up the stairs, and he bumped into an equally-amazed Eliot and Parker up at the top. A short pushing match ensued as they all tried to gawk in the doorway at the same time only to be broken as Hardison’s wet foot slipped off the top step. He grabbed onto Eliot for balance, dislodging Parker who had automatically reached out to steady him, and all three tumbled like puppies into the cold water. “What the hell, Hardison?” Eliot sputtered as he stood, chin deep, trying to shove water and hair out of his face. Parker whooped with exhilaration as she broke the surface and shook her head, spraying them all with water.

“Nuh-uh, you ain’t blaming this on me!” Hardison exclaimed as he fended off Parker’s impromptu shower. “One of the sensors was going haywire and I just found it like this. Parker, will you stop?!” he demanded as she decided to keep splashing the two men.

Parker vehemently shook her head and sent a wall of water to smack Hardison and Eliot in the face, which was then returned, in stereo, as they retaliated. Thus started the water war, and one of the reasons why Hardison was so very grateful later that he’d waterproofed (everything-proofed, truthfully) all the wiring in the brewpub when he replaced it. Water flew everywhere, sending them gasping at times as particularly hard splashes sometimes swamped their heads, and the occasional laugh escaped even their most stoic member as he launched a particularly good wave.

“I assume there is a very good explanation for this?” Nate’s dry voice at the top of the steps stopped their soggy battle cold and brought the three drowned rats sloshing up the stairs. Eliot grumbled and pushed passed them all, wringing out his shirts as he went.

Hardison and Parker moved aside to let him pass, and beckoned for Nate and Sophie to get a look. “Not my doing, I swear. One of the lights was going wiggy and when I came down to check it, I found it like this,” he conveniently avoided mentioning their juvenile jostling which landed them all in the water and focused on why their small basement was imitating a pool.

“Someone hit the bypass switch!” Eliot’s voice rang out and they all craned around to look. Sure enough, the red handle had been pushed in, sending water into the pipes Hardison still hadn’t gotten around to capping off yet, which leaked and flooded the confined space.

A sudden flash of guilt over Sophie’s face brought Hardison’s attention squarely to her, which captured the others’ as well. In the face of that much scrutiny, Sophie had to speak up. “I didn’t… well, it was sticking out and looked like it should have been pushed in!” she haltingly tried to defend. Dead silence followed her admission, only broken by the pat pat pat of water droplets landing accusingly on the floor.

Eliot rejoined them, completing the dripping triangle surrounding Nate and Sophie. “Let me get this straight- you sat through Hardison’s lecture last week, the one where he expressly and illustratively told all of us to NOT PUSH THE SWITCH IN, and yet you still decided that it needed to be pushed in. Am I right? ‘Cause it seems like we only have this mess because you can’t keep your hands to yourself! ” He nearly shouted in anger.

As Nate prepared to step in and defend Sophie, and as Sophie drew herself up to indignantly reply, the three looked at each other and tried to hide grins of sudden inspiration. Hardison and Parker squeezed back against the railing to make room, and Eliot moved in. Nate and Sophie went flying into the water with gobsmacked looks on their faces at the sheer audacity of the trio, while Hardison and Parker darted through the door. Hardison had it slammed shut and locked bare seconds before the howls and curses from the waterlogged pair began. The three held each other up as they laughed hysterically, but when the noise on the other side of the door became rather inventive threats, they decided that discretion was the better part of valor… especially as Sophie could pick locks.

“I got a hidey hole, you two game? Still have some of our emergency outfits there,” Hardison offered. Eliot and Parker both nodded, rather desperately as the noise level had escalated along with the violence of the threats, and the three dashed to Hardison’s van in a moment of unspoken communication. Nate could work some of the gadgets in the van to find them, but leaving him to the brewpub’s indecipherable system meant that any reprisals would have to wait until they showed back up again. In a day or ten.

“You want us to what?” Hardison asked incredulously, voice climbing in tandem with his irritation.

The park employee’s eyes flicked down to stare at the ground as he shuffled uncomfortably. “The park manager is asking you three to leave as you’re violating the decency rules,” he restated.

Eliot growled and Parker shifted to press against his side. “How exactly are we ‘indecent’? We’re fully clothed, and are not groping each other in full public view, unlike four other couples we could point out.”  His even and controlled tone seemed to make the teenaged employee even more skittish and he shifted from foot to foot.

“Um. Well, Mister Benito says that,” he pointed at their joined hands, Parker sandwiched between Eliot and Hardison, “is indecent and morally offensive to normal folks. He’s banned you, and I’m to escort you out of the gates.”

Silence met his stumbling declaration and they could hear the roar of a distant roller coaster, followed by its riders’ screams. Hardison began sputtering incoherently in outrage and Parker had an unnervingly assessing glare as Eliot calmly dragged them all out of the side exit they were directed to. Putting up a public fight may soothe their highly offended egos, but Eliot knew his lovers better- revenge would be the order of the day, and for that they needed to be in their apartment, not in county lockup on charges of disturbing the peace.

Once back home, the three settled in for a quick meeting. “Okay, so we’re going to be our own clients for this one?” Parker bounced in her chair as she summed up their position against the discriminating park. They truly had only been holding hands, and perhaps exchanging a few chaste kisses, but far less than the newlywed couple they’d seen groping each other while standing in line, or the younger teens who looked like they were trying to consume each other’s faces.

“Yeah, mama, we’re going to take them down, hard. I looked up their company rules and they only list indecent exposure and lewd and lascivious behavior, which we certainly were not.” Eliot and Parker were nodding with him- for all their indoor shenanigans, none of them could see the logic in making a public spectacle of their relationship. The three knew they were together and loved each other, beyond that it was no one else’s business.

Eliot watched the two younger thieves collaborating and had to hide his grin. They were adorable when plotting and at least this time it wasn’t a practical joke that he’d have to step into. “Do you two know what you’re planning to do?” With Nate and Sophie off on their honeymoon, it left them short a mastermind and grifter, so Eliot was going to step into the guiding role. Plus, he had a few ideas of his own swirling around the back of his mind.

“Do I ever!” Hardison crowed, twirling his laptop around to show unintelligible lines of code scrolling in an open window. “I got access to their control systems- all those electronically-controlled rides are mine now.” He carried off into mumbling about his great plan, how the park would love his new ‘enhanced’ rides, and the other two simply smiled indulgently. He could be such a geek, and they loved him for it.

Parker grinned widely as she reported her idea. “I’m going to break in tonight and switch around all their merchandise. Maybe change everything out for the arcade game prizes, or put them on the rides,” her eyes sparkled with glee as the possibilities flashed through her mind. It wouldn’t exactly be stealing, but close enough to thrill her. “What about you, Eliot? You’ve been quiet- doesn’t this bother you too?”

Now both of his loves were watching him curiously, having both noticed his personal restraint. “Bothers me plenty, sweetheart, but I’ve learned that there are bigoted assholes everywhere, and I can’t just go and beat them up when they piss me off,” Eliot explained, grabbing Parker’s hand and kissing her rope-calloused palm. “Since you two will be doing your own projects, I’ll coordinate with Hardison and watch your back when you break in, Parker.” That earned a forceful kiss from Hardison as he walked passed to go set up his station. If they were going to move tonight on Parker’s plan, then he’d need to get the rest of his hacking done, and perhaps play around a bit in their other electronic systems to see what other devilment he could cause. Parker swung around the table to plop into Eliot’s lap. “So, if we’re not going to break in until tonight,” Eliot drawled as he pulled her close, “you got any ideas on how we can pass the time?” Parker’s top flying over to whap the back of Hardison’s head was her only answer. Hardison snickered in response and settled in to watch the show they were providing while he kept half an eye on his program.

After full dark they carried out their plans, and Eliot supervised Parker’s hours spent moving, rearranging, and switching things around inside the park. He laughed outright at the indecent staging in the case of a panda, wolf, and spider monkey stuffed animals which she left, spotlighted and on the jumbo screen, on the park’s theater stage. Their girl truly had a sick mind, though neither of the guys would ever complain about it. Parker giggled to herself the entire way back home, and Eliot immersed himself in her mirth and Hardison’s chuckles in the earbud as he deviously set up a program to randomly set off the park’s security alarms. All of them, several times throughout the day, including the tornado alert alarms which would result in all the guests being ushered out of the park per company rules.

The next day, they settled onto the couch to watch the security camera feeds as employees tried to put their park to rights. Eliot pulled them in for a hug as he watched the highly-amusing results of their efforts. Rides were going at a tenth of the speed, if they even left the starting queue, and even though most of Parker’s hidden merchandise was put back where it belonged, it rang up with the wrong totals thanks to Hardison’s playing with the software. Alarms went off sporadically throughout the day, sending customers and employees scurrying, and the three laughed themselves silly at the manager’s tantrums.

They kept up their torment for two weeks before a notice of closure stopped their fun.  Hardison and Parker complained bitterly about losing their favorite pastime, but Eliot smirked. “It’ll only stay closed for as long as it takes you two to put everything back together,” he soothed. “When they went bankrupt, I put an offer down on the park and we are now the proud owners.” Eliot didn’t get much further as he was jumped on by his two very enthusiastic lovers.

Later, in bed resting from their efforts, they were tossing around ideas for their park. “I want a park made up of zip lines and rock walls!” Parker enthused.

“Nah mama, technology is the future. We have to have 3D virtual reality rides; think of all we can program them to do!” Hardison argued even as he traced circles on her bare tummy to make her squirm.

Eliot carefully hid a grin. “I say that we get out those statues Alec made a few years back and make our very own Bibletopia…” he had to quickly roll off the bed to escape the objects thrown in his direction and laughter echoed through the bedroom.

Eliot well and truly intended to wring Hardison’s neck, redemption be damned! For this idiocy his conscience could handle a good strangling. “Hardison, where the hell are my clothes?” he furiously shouted through the bathroom door as he stood, dripping, on the mat. That juvenile idiot had taken his clothing and the towel he’d laid out, leaving him with nothing to wear or dry off with. From the laughter he heard through the door, Eliot could tell that his dignity wasn’t going to be saved. He grumbled to himself about half-brained geeks who never grew out of middle school. The next few minutes of his life were going to be excruciating as he spied the only cover he could lay his hands on.

Ten minutes later saw him edge out of the bathroom, handfuls of Parker’s balloons held protectively held to cover what he could, and then freeze. Not only was Hardison sitting out in the living room, but at some point the other three had joined him. Great, just great- his sense of modesty cringed as their eyes tracked to the multi-colored show he was putting on and their lips twitched with what suspiciously appeared to be stifled smiles. Hardison’s snickers, though, were the last straw that saw his own sense of mischief bludgeon his modesty and snap to the challenge. He straightened, looked Hardison dead in the eye, and deliberately dropped the balloons. Nate and Hardison’s eyes instinctively followed the balloons down before they realized just what they were seeing then snapped up to stare at the ceiling as Eliot smirked. He was modest, true, but that didn’t mean that he was ashamed!

He strode across the room, carefully keeping his pace unhurried, and caught Nate trying to convince Sophie to stop eyeing him. Her reply that it was like watching fine art move, which deserved to be appreciated, enticed him add an extra swagger to his step, just to give her something to really appreciate. Parker, though, startled him as she brandished a handful of bills and whooped with glee. Her eyes never left him, and unlike Sophie’s gaze, it made him feel a bit like a rabbit hunted by a particularly hungry fox.

“Parker, darling,” Sophie spoke without sparing more than a quick glance over at their thief, “those are supposed to be dollar bills.” She raised her glass of wine in his direction as a silent toast of appreciation, and Eliot nodded in acceptance.

Parker’s response, though, had him desperately straining not to laugh and ruin his payback. “Psh, for regular strippers, maybe, but for this? He gets twenties!” Strangled choking from Nate and Hardison at her shouted comment made him devilishly add a shimmy for her as a reward. Childish practical jokes were a nuisance, but payback was truly delicious!

Eliot remained in his hiding place as Parker worked her way along the faint trail he'd left for her. It was an obvious trail, to his experience eye, but she was just learning how to read a person's passage from a few snapped twigs and slightly scuffed dirt. The main point of his training today though was getting her to remain aware of her surroundings even as she focused on tracking. Parker could narrow her focus to one single problem, shutting out the world and its distractions, but he needed to break her of that as it was an easy way to get killed while tracking.

The faintest brush of clothing against skin brought his eyes to the trail in time to watch her slowly scan for more clues. She was definitely getting faster at it as he'd predicted it would take another five minutes before Parker got to this point. Eliot waited until she passed before he silently stepped out onto the trail behind her. "You didn't pay attention," he scolded as she spun around and made a face at him in dismay. “I was in plain sight and you walked right past me, Parker!” Eliot captured the wrists that she held out and began to tie them together with a length of rope he’d packed in his pocket.

“You’re doing that wrong,” Parker complained and wriggled her hands around in annoyance, “I can get out of that in two seconds.” She scoffed lightly as the rope twisted and fell off her wrists, proving her point.

Eliot gave her a flat look and retied the rope over her objections. “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s ‘realistic’!” He tied it back around her wrists a third time and stilled her irate struggles by gripping her hands. “I caught you fair and square, Parker, so leave it alone,” he emphasized and waited until she met his eyes and nodded before he let go. She huffed and muttered about authenticity as he brought them both out of the forest he’d been using for her tracking lesson and back to his truck.

Once back at the truck, Parker nimbly opened the passenger door herself and hopped up into the cab, making sure not to lose the rope that Eliot insisted remain tied. She was still rather offended that he wouldn’t even tie her up properly so that she could practice her escapes. Both enjoyed the silence during their short journey back to Eliot’s country house, the staging ground for their impromptu lesson; she’d insisted on tracking for today’s lesson, and he’d insisted on using his own property for safety. Parker let herself out of the truck, always too impatient to wait for Eliot to walk around and open the door for her, and gave a wide grin at his long-suffering look as he came to escort his ‘prisoner’ into the house.

He let them in, disabling the alarm system as they passed, and snagged Parker’s wrists to pull a very willing thief along to the bedroom. Parker always raced to an orgasm with as much enthusiasm as she put into cracking a safe, and it usually meant that their love-making was rather shortened as he just enjoyed the experience and went right along with her. When it was his turn to dictate the evening, however, he truly got to indulge and take hours before allowing himself to orgasm.

“Strip and get on the bed,” Eliot ordered as he pulled down the bedding before he slowly followed suit, distracted by Parker’s shimmying out of her tight clothes. The rope had been discarded and disdainfully kicked under the dresser just as soon as she’d stepped into the bedroom. “I am going to make love to you until you can only twitch,” he promised as he tucked himself along her left side and leaned in for a long kiss.

He freed his long hair so that it would tickle her skin and make her squirm as he kissed down to her breasts. Eliot kissed her near breast before he sucked its sensitive nipple into his mouth. Parker began squirming in earnest when he nipped the tip before moving over to the other, hand drifting to tease further down. She was already hot and very moist when his fingers ghosted over her curls and her legs quickly fell open to allow his ministrations. By the time Eliot raised himself for another kiss, he was just in time to swallow her moans as she climaxed around his fingers.

Parker quickly grabbed his head and buried her fingers in his hair to pull him into a far deeper kiss as she came down. Eliot pulled back a bit so that he could gently stroke the side of her flushed face and rested his forehead against hers. Hazel eyes met his and they crinkled at the corners from the force of her smile, warming his heart with her affection. Parker tipped her head for one more kiss before Eliot pulled away to slide down her body, tips of his hair drawing tickling lines along her skin.

Eliot teasingly dipped just the tip of his tongue into her folds as he looked up the length of her body to watch her shiver. Her incredible flexibility allowed Parker to widen her legs in a near split, and he used the greater access to kiss from one knee up, across her dark blonde curls, and down to the other knee before he returned to playing with her body. Eliot’s left arm braced his weight while his right parted her folds and he dipped in for a lingering taste; musky, sweet, and very much Parker. He focused on her little nub as he set up a rhythm with his fingers stroking her inner walls to stimulate the nerves there. Parker quickly began trembling as her orgasm neared and he backed off a bit to draw out the pleasure. He continued in that fashion, bringing her near to completion and then drawing back, until her whines and moans started to pick up a frustrated edge before he allowed her to fall over that edge. Eliot made sure to lean forward a bit so that her legs, locking to him in orgasm, held his shoulders and didn’t box his ears.

When she’d recovered enough coherence, Parker hauled him up her body for a deep tongue-tangling kiss. She had to back off a bit to catch her breath and gently picked up his right hand, bringing it to her mouth to press a kiss to his palm in thanks. Eliot simply chuckled and gave her one of his slight smiles, which on anyone else would be a cheek-splitting grin. She pressed his hand to her chest over her heart and was content to cuddle while he allowed her body to calm. Her muscles felt like heavy putty after Eliot’s efforts and she could only close her eyes in satisfaction as he moved just that little bit to slide into her.

He teased them both by making shallow little thrusts, barely inside her heat, and then drew a sigh from Parker as he forcefully pushed all the way in. Eliot paused, reining in his body’s instincts which had been screaming at him the entire time, and reaffirmed his solid control. He loved using his training and body to bring pleasure rather than pain, even if Parker didn’t always allow him to indulge for hours on end. His hair fell forward to form a curtain around their faces as Eliot propped himself up on his elbows to properly watch Parker. She tipped her head up in invitation and he nibbled her bottom lip as he began to move in long, slow strokes. They were both sensitive enough, her from the previous orgasms and he from aroused anticipation, that the sensations set their nerves on fire. Parker reached up to push away a handful of damp hair that had stuck to the side of his face and he gently nipped at her wrist, drawing a breathy giggle from her.

Parker positioned herself and then tipped her hips up in open invitation, and Eliot took it. He gradually built from the slow strokes to shorter, and then began to truly thrust, nearly pounding. Sharp nails raked across the middle of his back in approval as she encouraged him further. The slight edge of pain brought him close to release and he reached down to roughly tweak her nipple and give her just enough to trigger her own orgasm. This time Parker did scream in pleasure as her body was too spent to lock down, though her inner contractions pulled Eliot into his own muscle-clenching release. He dropped his head down to tiredly kiss her neck as he rode out the pleasure before gently letting his weight settle on top of her. Parker loved to feel his heavier weight pressing down on her, a reminder that he was still there, and she hugged him to her with as much strength as she could muster.

They remained that way until their bodies started to cool and the drying sweat became uncomfortable. “Shower?” Eliot mumbled into her ear and Parker nodded. They didn’t often need words to communicate, but sometimes it was just easier to ask. He heaved himself off the bed and upright, taking a second to find his balance, and then helped her to her very unsteady legs. They both tottered into his shower and Parker took the opportunity to rest back against the wall- sex with Eliot was better than any exercise workout! They gently helped each other wash, taking care to be gentle and not try to stimulate already over-sensitive bodies, and perfunctorily dried off before staggering back into the bedroom to drop onto the bed. Neither cared that their hair was a bit damp around the edges from the shower’s spray; they’d shower properly tomorrow when they had more energy.

Parker tried to sit up enough to grab the covers, but ended up listing to the side into Eliot as her torso’s muscles refused to work. He settled her back onto the bed and retrieved the bedding to cover them both. She waited until he’d settled on his back before Parker curled up partially on top of him. Her head ended up tucked under his chin, her arm thrown over his chest so that she could feel his heartbeat, and her right leg was across his hips to better hold him to her. Eliot kept the grin off his face and allowed her to position herself however she wished; if he tried to hold her off, she’d only end up like this in her sleep, and he’d learned that it was better to just give in gracefully, especially when he got to hold a warm and sleepy Parker. He reached up to the wall plate and flicked off the room’s lights, plunging them into darkness as night had fallen while they made love, and they both allowed exhaustion to ease them into a peacefully deep sleep.