Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Okay, that's it," Eliot growls, after the second assassination attempt. "I'm staying with you until this job's over."

The problem is, they're a pretty sweet target, and being a pretty sweet target is an essential part of the plan. Alec made their aliases airtight, made himself into a formidable foe for their new mark, but if he'd known that doing so would lead them to this, he might've made their aliases a little less impressive. Eliot is standing, breathing hard, holding a knife that very nearly drew their blood; Parker is behind him, looking shocked and scared by the one contingency she hadn't anticipated; there's a knocked-out or possibly-dead assassin lying on the floor at Eliot's feet; and Alec, faced with this scene, wishes he knew how to apologize for making them all so vulnerable.

"Okay," Parker says, nodding, shoulders relaxing. It brings Alec a flood of relief to see the fear draining out of her as she gets her head around the new arrangement. Parker adapts: that's why she's the mastermind. Alec tries to breathe, adapt with her, stop his hands from trembling. "Okay, that's fine, but we still have to work out of the hotel. We can't let the mark think we're backing off."

Eliot makes a low grumbling noise at this, but nods once. Alec figures that he wants to say they should abandon the plan, cut their losses and get out. But they all know the truth: that if the mark's capable of hiring hit men without much provocation, he's more dangerous than they thought, and they need to take him out as soon as possible. In fact, maybe they should be moving the timetable –

"We're moving the timetable up," Parker adds. "Eliot, you're on for tonight. Around eight, once the lawyer has a few drinks in him." Alec feels a smile starting at the corners of his mouth, because when they work like this, together like this, he feels invincible, untouchable, and fuck all the hit men who try to take them down.

"Do all the checks I told you before you go into the hotel room tonight," Eliot tells them. "I'll get there by nine." Eliot touches Parker's shoulder as he walks by her, then squeezes Alec's bicep; brief touches, checking in. He's only started doing that in the last year or so, since a couple months before Nate and Sophie left, but Alec's gotten used to it, the feel of Eliot's hands on them when they're newly out of danger.

"We'll try not to get murdered in the hour you're out."

"Yeah, see that you don't," Eliot says. His voice is low and dangerous, but Alec knows it's not really directed at them. Eliot could care less about people trying to take him out – maybe because he's used to it, maybe because he knows he can handle himself – but when people come for Alec or Parker, even if it's only for their aliases, he takes it serious.

"Make sure to come in through the window," Parker tells Eliot. "We can't have you seen in the hallway."

"You don't think they'll notice me scaling the wall?"

Parker rolls her eyes. "Not if you do it right!"

Eliot moves as if to facepalm, then realizes he's still holding their would-be assassin's knife. He sighs, twirling the knife thoughtfully around his fingers. "Fine."

*

But all the implications of their new arrangement, with Eliot as full-time bodyguard, don't really sink in till later, when Alec watches Eliot swing in through the bedroom window with a duffel bag in his hand.

"You leave this unlocked?" he asks, gesturing at the window frame as he passes through it.

"Unlocked it when I saw your GPS signal coming," Alec assures him. "Wouldn't unlock it for anyone but our friendly neighborhood Spider-Eliot."

Eliot grunts his agreement and pulls in the ropes and the rig that Parker'd lent him. He's getting better with it; Parker's been giving him lessons. Eliot re-locks the window and then sweeps the room, looking for whatever it is that Eliot looks for: potential sniper lines of sight, maybe, doors that could be easily popped off their hinges, tiny cupboards from which mighty enemies could spring, whatever.

"I'll leave you to it, man," Alec says, trying not to feel weird about the rumpled, unmade bed at the center of the room – the bed he's been sharing with Parker – or the other signs of shared occupancy, their clothes folded on the dresser, the remains of last night's midnight snack on the bedside table.

"Is that Eliot?" Parker calls from the kitchenette. "I made dinner."

Alec tries not to enjoy the wince that passes across Eliot's face at this information, and he doesn't let it go on too long before he has mercy on the poor bastard.

"She means she put the takeout on the plates and got forks out," Alec says, and Eliot relaxes.

"Thank God, man," he says, with genuine relief.

"You think I'd let her cook food without supervision? Hell no."

"I heard that," Parker calls. "I am a criminal mastermind, you know, I don't need babysitting."

"You do when you burned down the last kitchen you cooked in," Alec says, as he walks through the hallway to meet her. Parker laughs at that, her inelegant honking snort, the one Alec can never get enough of.

"I still think cooking with C4 has potential," she says. "But it's not like I had much choice."

From the bedroom, Eliot chuckles, "Yeah, man, that one wasn't entirely her fault. With the giraffes and the librarians and everything."

"And it did provide sufficient distraction to get those Fish and Wildlife inspectors off our backs," Parker adds. "All part of my master plan."

Coming up behind her, Alec wraps his arms around her belly and bends down to put his head on her shoulder.

"That smells great," he says, and Parker smiles against him just as if she made it herself.

Eliot chooses that moment to come out of the bedroom; at the sound of steps behind them, Alec lets Parker go and takes a step back.

"Don't let me, uh," Eliot says, sounding characteristically annoyed, "interrupt."

"We got you the fish you like," Parker says, either ignorant of the awkward moment or – as Alec has gradually realized is more often the case with her – choosing to ignore it as unimportant.

"The flounder?" Eliot says, perking up. Parker hands him his plate and there's almost, for a moment, a smile on his face. It's amazing, Alec thinks sometimes, how little Eliot's come to expect from other people.

"Fastest way to your heart," Parker winks. Eliot scowls at her, but he can't quite hide his covetous glances at the fish. He's been grifting a lot lately – they all have, given the gaps in their roster – but he'll never be a liar on Sophie's level. Alec's grateful for that.

They pass the evening together comfortably enough, eating dinner, discussing the case, and watching a truly terrible heist film that makes Parker snort in derision basically the whole way through, then explain exactly how motion detectors work over the film's climax. Alec doesn't mind; Parker talking tech is better than some crappy movie any day.

As it gets late, Eliot takes another pass through the bedroom, secures the rest of the suite, and, satisfied, starts pulling the couch out into a bed. Parker commandeers the bathroom, which leaves Alec to stand awkwardly in the living room, watching Eliot put absurd hospital corners on a shitty pull-out mattress.

"Feel kinda bad, you sleeping out here on that thing, man," he says, just to have something to say. His fingers twitch for his phone in his pocket.

Eliot spares him an almost fond glance. "I've slept in worse," he says. Alec nods.

"Still, I wanna give you a better guest experience than, like, Somali pirate brigs."

This time the glance lasts a lot longer, and is further from fond, closer to unsettled. "Who told you about that?"

"The internet."

Eliot scowls. "Your friend the internet has some loose lips."

"Don't I know it." Alec glances at the bathroom door, but Parker's still got it closed. The woman is particular about her private bathroom time. "So how's this work? We should leave the bedroom door open, or . . . ?"

"No, Hardison, leave it closed, so that it's harder for me to save you from assassins in the middle of the night."

"Okay, okay," Alec puts his hands up.

Eliot pauses for a second in the process of throwing pillows on the bed. Just for a second, as if stopped by a sudden, disturbing thought.

"But don't . . . you know."

Alec raises his eyebrows.

"Don't have sex while I'm here," Eliot hisses.

"You actually think we would have sex with the door open and you ten feet away?" Alec manages eventually.

"It's Parker."

Alec shrugs. "Well, we won't."

"Good."

Luckily, at that moment, Parker comes out of the bathroom and saves Alec from what might be one of the most awkward conversations of his life, if he removes from consideration the time when he was twelve and Nana found porn under his bed. That one breaks the bell curve, so Alec usually has to lop it off like the score from the East German judge.

But that night, when he lies down with Parker, it doesn't feel awkward at all. He can hear Eliot's slow, deliberate breathing – though he doubts he's asleep – and it feels good, to know he's there, warm and alive, sharing their space, keeping them safe.

*

No one attempts to kill them that night, or the next. Parker declares that they need another few days to prime the mark, though, so they're still in the hotel room the night after that when dudes in ski masks invade the hotel room. They use the door (amateurs), bumble around a little, and get their asses neatly handed to them by Eliot, which is as it should be, as far as Alec's concerned.

Because she's Parker, Parker is excited to learn about the break in, sure that the news that they've hired full-time security will enhance their rep with the lawyer, once it gets back to him. Because he's Eliot, Eliot is more upset by the break-in than either of the other two, despite the ease with which he took the guys out. Eliot didn't even bother to wake them up for it, though, so Alec's having trouble seeing it as a national emergency.

"Next time it'll be more guys. More professional. Stealth operatives," Eliot grumbles, over breakfast. They're having brie-stuffed french toast, because Eliot's the best professional bodyguard in the world, and because he expresses stress by cooking. "And they'll be ready for me." Parker pats his shoulder.

"Come sleep with us tonight," she says. "You'll feel better."

Eliot's eyes widen and he looks to Alec for confirmation of his freakout, his old can-you-believe-what-she-just-said look. Alec hesitates. Eliot's been weirdly skittish around them for weeks. Maybe, Alec thinks, some immersion therapy would help make him more comfortable.

"Hey, if it'll keep you from having bad dreams to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed tonight . . . " Alec breaks off, laughing, as Eliot punches him in the arm. Either he's getting tougher or Eliot's going soft, because his grumpy arm-punches don't hurt like they used to.

"See if I keep saving your life," Eliot says.

"See if I let you be the big spoon," Alec returns, because he's starting to get a hunch about exactly why Eliot's been so uncomfortable around them lately. In support of Alec's theory, Eliot does that thing where he's a cold-blooded killing machine who doesn't squirm, but totally would squirm if he had less control.

"You like being the big spoon, Eliot?" Parker asks quietly, tapping her fork against her lip.

Eliot stabs one of the remaining slabs of toast and tosses it onto Parker's plate. Classic stall, Alec thinks; you can't grift a grifter. From Parker's considering look down at the toast before she digs in, she's having the same thought.

"I don't usually stick around long enough to find out," Eliot drawls.

Alec waggles his eyebrows, playing up the leer. "Guess we gotta find a way to make you sit still, then."

Eliot rolls his shoulders and tosses his hair out of his face. "Good luck," he says, but doesn't stick around to wait for the reply, instead getting up to clear the dishes.

Parker, between huge bites of bread and cheese and syrup, glances at Alec speculatively. "That sounds like fun," she says, and even though she's still eating voraciously, there's something still about her, like she's worried about Alec's reaction to this statement.

"Doesn't it just," he says. Parker relaxes a little, then, and when Alec passes her the syrup, she smiles stickily.

*

Eliot spends most of the day out scouting for the storefront location they need, while Alec and Parker change hotel rooms and get their tech and escape routes set up in the new location. As a result, they don't see each other much, though Eliot does come by to check in every now and then, and Alec gets the impression that no one could come up to their hotel room right now without Eliot knowing about it. When they do meet up, Eliot's . . . quiet. Not terse, the way he gets when he's worried, or angrily silent, the way he gets when he's too pissed off to yell anymore, but just . . . quiet.

Alec doesn't really think that he's going to spoon up around them in bed, like they're a little row of orphans in foster care, but he's still surprised, that night, when Eliot pulls the mattress out of the couch and drags it into the bedroom.

"Seriously?" Alec asks. "It's a king bed, and Parker and me ain't got cooties."

Eliot frowns even more than his usual default frown. "S'better like this," he says shortly. Alec wonders what he means, better. Better for him to take attackers by surprise? Better because Eliot kicks in his sleep? Or maybe better because it removes temptation?

When Parker comes in, she laughs to see Eliot on the floor next to the bed.

"Not like a little kid in Mommy and Daddy's bed," she says, bouncing onto the bed and looking down at him. "Like a little doggie!" Leaning over the edge, she strokes Eliot's hair and scritches behind his ears, a move that Alec, who values the continued use of his hands, would never make. Parker's fearless that way.

Eliot growls, which kind of proves Parker's point, and Alec laughs, pressing the button to turn off the lights.

"I don't think the puppy wants to be pet," he says. Parker grins and settles down in bed next to him.

After a long, quiet pause, Eliot says, "Don't."

Alec blinks into the darkness. "Don't what?"

Another long pause. Under the sheets, Parker grips his hand. "Don't call me that. Just . . . just don't."

"Okay, Eliot," Parker says softly. "We won't."

"We won't," Alec agrees.

He doesn't expect Eliot to say anything else, but after a minute he says, "I don't like it."

"Okay," Alec says gently, trying to take in this confession with has much kindness as he can. Parker squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back.

"Goodnight, Eliot," Parker says.

"Goodnight, Parker," Eliot says.

Alec grins. "Goodnight, Eliot."

Eliot sighs. "Goodnight, Hardison."

"Goodnight, Alec," Parker says, burrowing in against him.

"Goodnight, Parker," Alec says, kissing the top of her head.

There's a short pause, then Parker says, "Goodnight, Eliot." The noise Eliot makes is best described as a muffled scream.

"Go the fuck to sleep," he says, but it comes out as a laugh, which makes Parker shudder with happy giggles.

"We love you, Eliot," Parker sighs, her breath warm against Alec's neck. Alec's safe and happy and he can't help but agree with the sentiment.

And goddamn it, he might as well agree out loud. It's nothing Eliot doesn't already know, he reasons, though there's always a difference between knowing it and hearing it.

Still, it's easy enough to say. "We do," he murmurs into the darkness, soft and simple as anything. Eliot doesn't respond, but then Alec didn't really expect him to, so he leaves it at that and focuses on his breathing, the tug of sleep behind his eyes, the warm potential energy of Parker against him.

He's just about to drop off when he hears Eliot speak again.

"Okay," he says softly. He sounds confused.

Alec wishes he knew what to say to that; as he reaches for the right words, though, he falls asleep.

*

He wakes up once, in the night; Eliot's standing beside the window, hidden in shadows, motionless and fucking frightening. Alec blinks, and reminds himself that Eliot's on their side.

"Lie down, Eliot," Parker mutters, lying on her side and facing away from the window, her eyes still closed. Alec's never, in the year-plus they've been dating, been awake when she's been asleep.

Eliot hesitates, then lies down at the foot of their bed.

*

The next night, it already feels like habit. Eliot pulls the mattress into the bedroom, lays out his bedding, and curls up beside them. Alec doesn't fool himself that his slow, steady breathing is a sign of sleep, or that the relaxation evident in every line of his body is necessarily a sign of trust, but it feels good to see it all the same.

*

A week later they finish the job, Barrington goes to jail, Alec burns their too-convincing aliases, and the hit men stop coming after them. It's only mostly a relief, though, because after a while Alec got used to the sense of Eliot's presence on the floor next to them, the subtle scent of his soap, the rustle of his skin against the sheets when he moved.

Eliot sleeps in a tank top and boxer shorts, or at least he did around them. But he keeps his boots next to his bed, ready to run if he needs to.

Alec's put it out of his mind, though, when the time comes to book them another hotel for the next job. This time they're working in Pittsburgh, and they can stay somewhere reasonably upscale since they won't be using their hotel in the con (unless they work their way down to Parker's Plan Orange, which Alec hopes doesn't happen. He has to punch a guy in Plan Orange). He's doing ten things at once, buying (well, stealing) the plane tickets, messing with the ice cream company website, creating a new cop ID for Eliot since he ruined the last one getting himself arrested, and he's only gotten as far as thinking about getting their hotel room booked when Parker pops up out of nowhere and kisses his ear.

"Augh," Alec says, mostly not screaming, because he's getting used to that. "Woman, that is freaky."

"Do you want me to stop doing it?" Parker asks, staring into his eyes.

" . . . no," Alec says, because he's nothing if not honest with himself.

She grins at him. "Good. Hey, listen, when you book the hotel, just get us one suite with two bedrooms, okay?"

Alec blinks. "You sure about that? I'm not suspending you from the ceiling and eating you out while Eliot's in the next room."

She shrugs. "I'll live. You feel better when he's protecting us."

"Oh, I feel better?"

"Well, not just you."

"Thank you!"

"Eliot feels better too."

Alec rolls his eyes and presses two fingers along her jawline, turning her head so that he can kiss her slow and deep.

"And how do you feel?" he asks, carefully.

"I like having him there. It feels right, that way. Like we're right. Complete."

At a loss for words, Alec kisses her again, because what she's just said goes well beyond wanting Eliot there for backup in case their cover gets blown. But he can't deny he feels the same way, like something missing clicks into place when Eliot's breathing in the dark beside them.

"What're you saying?" he asks, when she pulls back.

"I don't know yet." She shrugs, and if she has one quality that Nate doesn't (she has dozens), it's that she can say that without sounding like a dick who's going to throw you into harm's way without a plan. When Parker says it, it's because they're in it together, because they don't know something together.

"Okay," he says, softly.

"One suite. Two rooms," she says, holding up first a single finger, then two. Alec leans forward and kisses her fingertips, smiling when she disappears again.

"As you wish," Alec grins.

*

Eliot raises an eyebrow when he finds out about the room, but Parker just says, "for Plan Infrared," and Eliot goes pale and tight-lipped and nods once. They all know that they never want it to come down to Plan Infrared, as often as they joke about the impossibility of ever keeping to Plan Ultraviolet.

So Alec once again gets accustomed to seeing Eliot first thing in the morning, with his messy hair and his bare, muscled legs and his tendency to hog the shower. Eliot, in turn, seems to get more comfortable around them, if only because Parker occasionally eats her cereal while sitting on his shoulders, and Alec occasionally falls asleep on his laptop so that Eliot has to wake him up before the drool in the circuitry becomes an issue.

"C'mon, Alec, man, you're gonna have permanent keyboard face," he laughs, as he shakes Alec's shoulder and nudges him up to a standing position, points him in the direction of his bedroom and gives a little push. Alec goes willingly, warmed by the feeling of Eliot's firm hands on his body, and doesn't even notice until the next morning that Eliot didn't call him by his last name.

*

"I like this," Parker tells Eliot, one night. "Having you here to guard us. It makes me feel good. Safe."

Eliot, who had been brushing his teeth and wandering around the suite – Alec has no idea why the man's incapable of just standing in the bathroom while he brushes like anyone else, it's annoying – stops dead. Then he turns away, and Alec thinks for sure that he's just not going to respond, but it turns out he's just spitting in the bathroom sink before coming back.

"I like it too," he says to Parker, softly, with toothpaste on the corner of his mouth. "I'll always keep you safe."

"I know," Parker says.

Eliot doesn't reply, but he does scrub at his bicuspid until his gums bleed a little.

*

Alec doesn't think he's meant to hear it; Eliot's earbud is gone – fell out during the fight, and he's really got to figure out a design that stays in place even if you're kicked in the head – and he knows that Eliot heard the crunch when the big guy stepped on it. But luckily Alec was able to tap into the security cameras, and luckily they had audio, and in any case, what it means is, he hears it anyway.

Eliot took care of the big guy easily, and having watched dozens of Eliot Fights Alec knows it's because big guys tend to rely on their size and underestimate Eliot's skill. The next guy, about Eliot's size, goes down with a crunching kick to the shin that Alec's pretty sure means a compound fracture. But the last guy, sort of regular size with four inches and forty pounds on Eliot, doesn't go quick at all, so that Alec starts to get concerned.

"You're not going to win against us," Regular Guy is saying, when Alec finally breaks into the audio feed. "We are the revolution. We are high tide come to wash everything clean."

"Oh jeebus," Alec sighs. Nothing worse than a true believer. It seems impossible that the "reverend" actually conned anyone with this bullhockey, but then, if he hadn't, they wouldn't be here.

"You talk too much," Eliot growls, hair falling into his eyes, as he nails the guy with a solid gut punch and a knee strike. True Believer just won't stay down, though, and comes back at Eliot fast and angry. He gets in a punch or two, enough that Alec is just about ready to tell Parker they need to activate Plan Lilac.

"So what are you?" True Believer feints, then lands a punch to Eliot's face. "You run their errands," elbow strike, "you help them steal our money," kick to Eliot's ribs, "you take a beating for them." He gets another solid punch in to Eliot's shoulder, driving him to his knees.

"Parker, we are Lilac," Alec says urgently into the mic. "Repeat: Lilac."

"Acknowledged," Parker says. She's hanging off a building at the moment, so she has the right to be terse; Alec just tries to remind himself that she'll be in striking distance of Eliot – and, more importantly, of True Believer – in thirty seconds or so now that he's called the play.

"You're nothing but a follower, aren't you?" True Believer sneers. "You're just their loyal dog."

Alec stops and blinks at the grainy camera footage, holding his breath without meaning to. The conversation they had in the dark, all those weeks ago, comes rushing back to him. I don't like it, Eliot had said.

Eliot rises from his knees so fast that Alec almost doesn't see it. His fists strike out against True Believer's solar plexus, his cheekbone, and, when he spins around from the blow, his left kidney. True Believer goes down in a heap on the floor.

Eliot spits blood on the ground beside him, and kicks him once, hard, when he looks like getting up. "You're damn right I am," he growls, and walks away.

When Alec can remember how to speak, he manages to croak out "Parker, negative on Lilac," but not before Parker comes swinging in like Tarzan to save Eliot.

"Little late, darlin," Eliot says, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"I had to break a window," Parker protests. Then, taking in Eliot's wounds, she says, "I have Spider-Man bandaids?"

Eliot laughs, then holds his rib when the motion obviously hurts him.

"Sounds good," he says, and lets Parker brace herself under his arm and bear some of his weight.

"Alec, I'm bringing him in. Make sure the bugs are set in the storefront."

Alec nods, even though she can't see him. On his screen, Parker bends for a moment and plants another bug on True Believer before taking up Eliot's weight again.

"Take care of him, Parker," Alec says impetuously, more aware even than he was during the fight that she can hear him and Eliot can't. "He's our only Eliot."

"I promise," Parker says, and glances up at the camera on the wall, holding Alec's gaze.

*

After that, Alec starts paying more attention. Eliot's their hitter, and taking on any physical threats to the team is his job, but there's something beyond professionalism – even beyond the obvious fact that Eliot relishes the fight itself – in the way he puts his body between Parker or Alec and any potential threat. Alec has a good view of Eliot's back on a lot of jobs, and he reads something in the tight line of Eliot's shoulder, in the slow turn of his foot as he steps into a fighting stance.

Something possessive.

"You could let me fight sometimes," Parker points out, as she tapes Eliot's broken fingers. "Or Alec. You don't have to take down all six guys by yourself every time."

Eliot smiles at her in that sad way he has of smiling at her. "It's my job, darlin," he says. "Besides, you and Hardison both need your pretty little fingers for lockpicking."

Parker shrugs, because this is not untrue, but after she finishes taping Eliot up chews her lip for a second before speaking again.

"No new jobs until Eliot's fingers heal," she announces. "Research and recon only."

Eliot looks like he might argue, but then Parker's small, lithe, lockpicking fingers land in his hair, petting awkwardly but sincerely, and Eliot shuts up. Her other hand is still touching his, over the place where she's taped his fingers, and Eliot stares down at that touch even as he leans, ever so slightly, into the other touch, her knuckles brushing against his temple. Alec's breath catches in his throat as Eliot's eyes slip closed, just for a second, as if he can't afford to give in to this pleasure for long.

"You got me all taped up?" Eliot asks, not looking up at Parker's face. Parker nods, then clears her throat.

"Yeah."

"Thanks." He flexes his fingers experimentally, standing up. As he passes by, he clasps Parker's shoulder clumsily. She offers him a smile, and he offers one back. Glancing up at Alec, though, his smile fades, and he lets go.

"I'll let you guys get some rest," he coughs, and then he's out the door.

*

"You want him," Parker says that night, so quietly that Alec experiences the words more as movements against the shell of his ear than as sounds. "Eliot." The T at the end of Eliot's name clicks against his earlobe.

It's their first night without Eliot in a while; they finished the game on Levinson, came back to Portland, and now there's no reason to sleep where they can hear Eliot breathe carefully against his re-cracked rib. The apartment is too empty, too quiet. Alec holds Parker a little tighter, grateful, as always, that she tends to cling like a limpet in bed.

Alec swallows. "Yeah." It's not as hard to admit as he thought it would be.

She runs a hand over Alec's chest. She's been jealous before, with him, angry and violent when he looked at other women. He wants to reassure her that he wouldn't ever do anything about his . . . attraction? to Eliot, except he's not sure that's where this conversation is heading.

"It's okay," Parker says, maybe sensing his tension. Parker's never been great with words, but she reads his body like a rope in her rig, knows his tensile strength and breaking point at a touch. "Me too. I – that's what I want too."

Alec relaxes, overwhelmed by the idea of Parker and Eliot together but somehow not surprised by it, the image almost as familiar as a memory, something he's already seen happen.

"Should we – " he begins. Unable to find the right verb, he gestures vaguely with his hand in the darkness.

"Have sex with Eliot?" Parker asks, genuinely confused.

"Uh, well." He thinks about it. "Yes."

"Then yes."

Alec lets the idea sit, turning it over and over in his mind. He can imagine the sex – it's not as if he's new to the idea that he likes fucking men, or even that he would like fucking Eliot – but that's not where his mind keeps landing; instead, he thinks about Eliot standing by the window in the dark, about Eliot stepping between Alec's body and six heavily armed thugs, about the reassuring sound of Eliot's low voice in the darkness. He thinks, again, about that grainy security footage: Eliot taking a beating for them, Eliot beating the shit out of a guy and calling himself their dog.

*

It becomes standard practice for them to share one suite during jobs, and during the dangerous jobs, Eliot beds down on the floor of Alec and Parker's room without even asking. He just glares at them defiantly while throwing a pillow on the floor and dares them to say something.

Alec sure as hell doesn't say anything.

Parker takes to dangling head-first off the end of the bed to kiss Eliot's forehead, just a sweet goodnight kiss, the kind Parker probably never got growing up. Eliot rolls his eyes when she does it, but doesn't tell her to stop.

Alec wishes he could do the same, sometimes. But he doesn't have the excuses Parker has (she's cute, she's a girl, she's, well, Parker) that would make it okay for him to lean down and offer Eliot a soft kiss on the forehead, an expression of his appreciation for the way Eliot cares for them, a way of making sure that Eliot knows he's cared for in return.

*

"Come on, come on," Alec mutters, more out of long habit than because he truly believes that begging will make the machine work any faster. Eliot's on lookout, and keeps glancing back at Alec anxiously.

"Two more minutes," Alec says, and Eliot nods, grimacing. In that two minutes, while Alec's back is turned, Eliot apparently takes out four private security officers and a museum curator who was working late.

"What?" Eliot says, belligerent, breathing hard as he duct tapes their wrists. "I didn't give them concussions, they'll be fine."

"Says you," Alec says, stepping over he body of one of the tied-up guards who's apparently in perfect health. "Okay, I got the door open, but there could be more security on the other side. Depends on where they are in their rounds."

"Get behind me," Eliot breathes. He pushes his hair back with his hands and wipes a drop of blood from his lip and Alec is suddenly, overwhelmingly turned on. Blinking, trying to keep his mind on the security measures he still has to beat, he gets behind Eliot.

There are two more guards behind the door. Alec does his best not to focus on the play of muscles in Eliot's shoulders as he runs for them, the delicate turn of his wrist as he strikes, the little grunts that he makes as his blows land, as the blows of the security guards land on his body.

When the guards are down, Alec doesn't say "you're beautiful when you fight," but he figures he must be staring anyway.

"What are you doing? C'mon," Eliot hisses. Alec goes to work on the next door.

"Good to have you at my back, man," he mutters, speaking what isn't a deep romantic confession mostly towards the key card reader.

But Eliot's hands land on his shoulder, on his bicep, restless and strong against Alec's body. Alec can't help but shiver.

"You too," Eliot says, and squeezes lightly against the back of Alec's neck.

The card reader beeps. The light turns green. The door lock clicks mechanically, and if there's one love that he and Parker share, it's that moment, when the lock falls open under your hands and a new world opens up before you.

He turns and looks at Eliot, then, letting some of the heat he feels show through. Eliot smiles at him slowly, and squeezes harder, giving Alec a little push through the door.

Alec lets his body be moved.

"Let's go steal stuff," Eliot grins. Alec laughs, and they do.

*

"This is delicious, man," Alec says around a mouthful of Eliot's latest – a North African-inspired stew that's just the right balance of rich and sweet. "This is for the restaurant?"

"Yeah, well, I gotta find something to distract people from that godawful stout you came up with, don't I?"

"You drank three pints of that stout last week, so don't even front." Alec takes another bite, grinning and rolling his eyes back and making yummy noises the whole time, until Eliot starts to smile. This is something Alec's known for a while now: Eliot can't help but be happy when people are enjoying his food.

Parker comes bustling in, arms full of bags and boxes, and Alec and Eliot both turn to face her.

"Hey babe," Alec says. "You get the rest of the supplies?"

She nods. "This one salesgirl was so nice, I even paid for some of it!"

"That's what good customer service can do for a business," Alec says approvingly, taking the bags out of her arms.

"What is all that stuff?" Eliot asks, eyeing the packages suspiciously. It's true enough that sometimes, when Parker goes out shopping, she comes home with explosives.

Alec looks inside as he walks towards the spare bedroom. "Bedding, a clock, some towels, slippers, toothbrush, toiletries, et cetera." He furrows his brow. "Parker, is this a stuffed bunny?"

"You wanted Eliot to be comfortable!" she calls, and Alec laughs and walks towards the spare bedroom.

"What?" Eliot asks her. Alec strains his ears to hear Parker's reply.

"We're setting you up a bedroom here in the apartment. We got you some stuff. So you can stay over, if you want."

"Huh," Eliot says.

Alec throws the stuff onto the bed, takes a minute to set the clock to the correct time, and wonders what's happening in the kitchen.

"Parker," he yells, "try some of Eliot's stew, it's amazing."

Parker oooohs loud enough that Alec can hear it from the closet where he's shoving all the towels and spare pillows.

When he finishes and walks back out to the kitchen, Eliot is holding a spoon over his cupped hand, and Parker is leaning forward to take a bite. Eliot's smile broadens as Parker's eyes close in pleasure, and Alec wishes desperately that he had a photo of that exact moment, their heads bent together, Eliot wiping a drop of sauce off her chin with his broad thumb.

Eliot glances up and sees Alec staring like an idiot, and in a split second his entire body language changes: he leans back instead of forward, and his right foot goes back, as if he's about to turn and run.

"Sorry," Eliot says, and Alec wonders if he even knows what he's apologizing for. Lustful thoughts about Alec's girl, probably.

"Chill," Alec says softly, walking over to them. "I'm just jealous that Parker gets hand-fed. What, I don't rate that kind of treatment?"

He expects Eliot to back off, or make a joke, or throw a spoon at him and tell him to feed himself, and there's a moment when it looks like Eliot is going to choose one of those options; but the moment passes, and then Eliot cocks his head, and grins big, and dips his spoon back into the stew before holding it out toward Alec expectantly.

Alec bends his head and fastens his lips around Eliot's spoon, closing his eyes and dragging back as slow as he can manage, leaving the spoon spit-clean and shiny where his mouth has been. When he gets to the tip, he opens his eyes and glances up at Eliot from beneath his eyelashes, and if the look on Eliot's face isn't surprise, it's close enough.

"Mmmm," Alec says, swallowing. He can feel a little bit of sauce at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn't lick it away, remembering Eliot's thumb against Parker's chin and hoping that he can push his luck just a little further.

He waits, the way he waits for a server to crack; behind him and slightly to his right, he can feel Parker waiting too, the way she waits for a lock to click. They breathe together, and after a moment Eliot moves, opens, steps forward: he puts his thumb to the corner of Alec's mouth and rubs once, slowly.

"Got something there," Eliot says.

"Yeah," Alec says, just so that he can open his mouth against Eliot's thumb and feel the press and slide of his lip against Eliot's skin.

"Kiss him," Parker says hoarsely, and she's the mastermind, so Alec does. Eliot's mouth is warm and wet, and he kisses back softly, far more softly than Alec ever imagined he would. For a long moment that's all there is, just this kiss between them, Eliot open and real beneath him.

Of course Eliot pulls away first, firmly, putting a strong hand on Alec's collarbone and pushing him back half a step.

"You two look beautiful together," Parker breathes. Alec licks his lips and meets Eliot's eyes. Eliot's very blue, very distracting, stone cold killer eyes.

"Dammit, Hardison," Eliot says softly.

"It was Parker's idea," Alec protests. "Don't kill me."

"I ain't gonna kill you." There's a pause between them, Eliot's hand still on Alec's shoulder, Parker's eyes still on them both. Eliot's breathing fast, Alec notices, and even though he's a grand master at makeouts, he doesn't think it's because of the kiss.

"You – you already have me," Eliot rasps out, his voice uncharacteristically reedy in the silence. He coughs. "You both – I'm already. Yours. Okay? You don't need to do this."

Alec can feel Parker shifting beside him, foot to foot, the way she moves when she knows the next step but not how to take it. She's still not great at feeling-words. But she moves closer to Alec and holds his hand, completing the circuit from Eliot to Alec to herself. And after working under her for all these months, Alec knows how to take a cue.

"It ain't about that," Alec says. "Loyalty. It's – this is just – "

"This is what we want," Parker fills in, direct like always.

Eliot's eyes widen, then narrow down again. "Not a good idea to fuck your crew," he says, and they've been grifting together enough lately that Alec can recognize Eliot's "stalling for time" voice.

"Works for Hardison and me," Parker says, with a shrug.

"I don't – I can't," Eliot says. He takes his hand off Alec's shoulder, breaking the connection.

Alec bites his lip. "Hey, man, that's okay. You don't gotta." He thinks about whether he should take the risk and say it, but hell, he's already kissed Eliot; why not be honest about why? "It's like you said. You're already ours."

Eliot had been looking at Parker, but at this his eyes snap to Alec. Alec doesn't look away.

"And we're already yours, too. Ain't gonna change."

"Family," Parker says, firmly, brooking no argument. "Eliot, will you sleep with us tonight?"

Alec and Eliot both turn to look at her, incredulous.

"Woman, he just got done saying no – "

"Just to sleep. On the floor, like on a job. But not for safety. Just because you want to. And because we want you to."

Eliot backs up a few steps and picks up his spoon again, stirring the stew slowly and carefully, like stew-stirring is a Tai Chi form.

"Sure," he says, into the pot. "No problem."

Parker steps up to him – staying in his field of vision, not getting too close – and slowly, gently, runs her hand through his hair. She's getting better at it. Eliot leans into the touch, just a little, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

*

That night, Alec leans up on his elbows to watch as Eliot bunks down at the foot of the bed. He's wearing a tank top and boxers, like he does on the job. Alec can't help but feel a pang at the sight of Eliot's arms, his legs, the strength that he carries around every day but that's only obvious when he strips down.

"You're not wearing a shirt," Eliot says, and Alec guiltily looks up to meet his eyes.

"I don't, when I'm at home," Alec replies. Eliot nods.

"You sure you don't want up here with us?" Alec tries to keep the offer casual.

"Nah," Eliot says.

When Parker goes by on her way to bed – wearing a tank and boxers just like Eliot, barefoot and gorgeous – she pauses and cocks her head at him.

"Do you want a hug?"

There's something terrifying about the way she asks it, even to Alec, who's hugged Parker plenty of times.

"No," Eliot says. Parker looks annoyed, and drops smoothly down to her knees next to him. She sits back on her heels, resting her palms on her thighs, waiting.

"Really, though."

Eliot stares at her for a long minute, but much as Alec loves the guy, his money's on Parker. No one wins a staring match with Parker.

"Fine," Eliot says, a minute later.

The hug that they share is perhaps the most awkward Alec's ever seen, even including that time he got all cute and hugged Eliot in the bar. Parker's never sure where to put her arms when she hugs, so she sort of drapes them over Eliot's shoulders; Eliot starts the process looking like he's a normal person who's hugged other normal people before, but loses it halfway through and ends up with his chin angled weirdly on her shoulder and his hands patting gingerly at her back. It's clear that neither of them knows how to end it, so Alec takes pity on them both and coughs loudly. They break apart.

"Good effort," he says, which makes Parker beam and Eliot scowl.

Parker climbs up into the bed and lays down half on top of Alec, kissing him deeply. She's all energy and motion, all the time, and when she squirms on top of him like this it gets his motor running like nothing else.

"Enough," Eliot calls, laughing.

"We were being quiet," Alec protests, and Parker snorts.

"It's a very distinctive sound," Eliot says.

They sleep, eventually. Eliot sleeps way more than ninety minutes. He even snores.

*

"So, can I ask why?" Alec says, when the two of them are alone in the van, waiting for Parker to scale a building.

"Why what." Eliot doesn't say it like it's a question, probably because he already knows what Alec's talking about.

"Why you said no. It's okay, I mean, you don't have to talk about it. But . . . I see the way you look at Parker. And you – you kissed me back." He wishes he didn't sound so unsure, like a middle schooler upset about an unrequited Valentine, but he can't help it.

Eliot sits down in the seat next to Alec and sighs dramatically. For a long minute Alec thinks he's not going to say anything, and then he says, "I ain't made for marrying, Alec."

Alec notices the use of his first name, wonders what it signifies to Eliot, but doesn't let it slow him down. "I heard what you said to Nate. You said you'd be with us till your dying day."

This, for some messed-up reason, makes Eliot laugh. "That's it," he chuckles dryly. "That's the thing exactly." And then he reaches down and grips the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up to bare his chest. Alec's confused by this gesture for a long moment, until he realizes that Eliot is trying to turn him off with this display.

There's yellow-green bruising over Eliot's ribs from the thing two weeks ago, and a red scar, still healing, from the slice of Barrett Kalder's knife, the case before that. There are older scars, too, knives and bullets and fire, places where Eliot's been dragged on rough pavement, places where his bones have shoved out through his skin.

"My dying day ain't that far off," he says. "I meant what I said to Nate. But I'm pushing forty, and some day soon you two will have to do without me. Or, you know, replace me." He looks away from Alec, then, down at his lap. "I ain't the marrying kind," he repeats, almost an apology, and Alec feels like there's a slow explosion going on in his chest.

Alec turns in his chair, wanting to look at Eliot, wanting to take his hand. "Eliot, man, I – " he doesn't know what he's about to say, and he never finds out, either, because that's the moment when Parker calls in and mentions that she's found an easy access point to the server room, and would Hardison like to come and join her, please?

"Looks like you're going in the rig," Eliot says, waggling his eyebrows with his particular kind of bloody mischievousness. Alec rolls his eyes.

"I'll be fine. You won't let me fall."

"Nope," Eliot agrees, easily. "Not ever."

*

After that, Eliot sleeps on their floor three days out of seven, avoids any and all conversations about anyone's feelings, and then, maybe just to rub it in their faces, he gets himself kidnapped.

"Could be the Swedes. Or that guy from the private equity company. Or the woman who was killing puppies, remember? She went down thinking Eliot was betraying her so he could get her job as Regional Shelter Manager. Or – "

"Stop," Alec says, as much to his own racing thoughts as to her increasingly wild theories. "Stop, Parker. We can't – it's not the woman from the crooked animal shelters, she's got no reach from prison. We can't think about who it could be. We have to think about who it is."

Parker's pacing, now, fast and anxious, with short sharp turns whenever she hits a wall. "This isn't my job. Eliot's the retrieval specialist."

"If only we could call him to consult on his own retrieval," Alec sighs, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. Parker looks up hopefully, but he shakes his head.

"His earbud's long gone, babe, you know that. And every GPS tracker I had on him."

"Including the – " she gestures at her own arm, where they'd all carefully implanted Alec's specially designed passive trackers.

"Yeah," he croaks. Parker looks, if possible, even more murderous.

"Someone cut into him."

"Yeah," Alec says again. "They did."

Parker gets cold, the way Nate used to sometimes get cold, and as much as it scares him, Alec is glad to see it. This is Parker the mastermind, Parker who'll be able to tell him what to do, where to look, what to hack. Alec's fingers are twitching already, waiting for her instructions.

"It was a professional job, quiet and quick, no witnesses."

Alec nods. "How do you take Eliot quickly and quietly, against his will? For that matter, how do you do it at all?"

Parker closes her eyes. Alec watches her as she takes a breath and centers herself. Work the problem, he thinks, the same words she's said to him a dozen times.

"I know how I'd do it," she says, and then they're off and running.

*

Alec works until his fingers seize up, forty hours straight as Parker snaps out directions. She's doing two jobs at once, out in the field running down leads even as she spins theories in her head, eliminates suspects, finds possibilities for Alec to trace. He wishes desperately for help, but apparently Nate and Sophie are actually at sea, so he's not even sure if his message has reached them yet, and there's no one else Alec trusts enough to come in on this.

Finally Parker finds the right tire mark, and Alec is able to run down a VIN, and a short recon mission later, they're pretty sure they know where Eliot is being held.

There's a question behind his lips, a question that's been sitting there for two days now, and every time it tries to push its way out Alec swallows it back, unwilling to hear it out loud.

Parker, of course, answers it anyway, even without him having to ask.

"They took him for one of four reasons. One is someone wants revenge on him, in which case he's probably dead already." She says it dispassionately, but then glances at Alec's face, and adds, softly, "I don't think it's one."

"Okay." Alec's heart is racing. He can't seem to get it to stop.

"Two is information, which is a good scenario for us, because Eliot's good at being interrogated and that option means he's probably being held in one place."

Alec knows that interrogated means tortured, that Eliot's good at being tortured, and he wishes for a second that he had that thing that Parker has, that lets her disconnect and see the situation from outside.

"Three is that they want to use him for something, make him do a job for them." She grimaces. "That one has a lot of variables."

Alec nods. She falls silent, and after a while he asks.

"What's four?" He can't imagine that there's anything worse than one.

"Four is revenge on us."

"You mean – "

"Four is, they know who we are, who we all are, and they know how to hurt us. It's what I'd do. I'd take Eliot out of the equation, force you and me to work outside our comfort zones, force a physical confrontation of a kind we're unfamiliar with. Guns, probably. In four, we probably find him alive, and then they kill him."

Parker doesn't elaborate on what happens after that, in scenario four, but Alec can't imagine that it's a rainbow picnic.

"Four is worse than one," Alec says.

"Yes."

He grabs her up, then, unable to stop himself: he takes her in his arms and holds her tight, because she's the only part of his family he's got left.

"I can't lose him," Parker says, and Alec thinks back to that conversation in the van, to Eliot saying, casually, that he'd be dead before too long, and that Alec shouldn't get too attached. Like an old dog, about to die, adopted out of pity.

"Me neither," he breathes, into her hair. "But now we know where he is."

"We go in when the guard shifts change at midnight," Parker says, and glances at the clock. It's six pm. "Lie down with me."

"I don't think I could sleep," Alec says. It's true. It's been so long since he's slept that he's not sure he even remembers how.

"Lie down with me," Parker insists, so he does, in the clothes he's standing up in, bending his knees and neck so that he and Parker are forehead to forehead, her shins pressed against his thighs. They kiss slowly, for what feels like a long time but probably isn't, and then Parker makes a few subtle movements that he doesn't even track and they're fucking. They fuck gently, easily, until Parker's strong callused hands grip at his arms while she comes, and until Alec's orgasm rushes through him, leaving him empty enough, for the moment, that he can fall asleep.

They sleep for four hours. At ten they get dressed in their best stealth gear, pick up their bags of tricks, and leave to get their man back.

*

It was scenario two.

Alec has to watch the cameras and squelch the radios and take out four security guards on the outer perimeter without sounding an alarm, so he's not there when Parker finds him, when they find out that it was scenario two. All he knows is that he can hear Parker breathing heavy, and every minute or two, he hears her talking to Eliot.

"C'mon, you bastard, just a little farther," she grits out, and "stay awake, asshole," and "I'm gonna kick your ass when we get home." That's how Alec first knows that Eliot's alive, that it's not scenario one or scenario four: he hears Parker swearing at him, and distantly, through the mic, he hears the sound of Eliot's mumbled, half-cogent replies.

When Parker comes out, she's got Eliot in a fireman's carry, slung over her shoulders. There's a little blood dripping down the side of her face, a minor head wound, but other than that, she looks okay.

Eliot doesn't look okay. Alec's seen him walk on all kinds of damage, including bullet wounds to the thigh, so the sight of him prone and unresisting on Parker's shoulders is shocking.

"You're so heavy, you jerk," Parker is muttering. Eliot looks only semi-conscious. "Broken legs," she says to Alec, and Alec nods. His whole body feels cold, though whether with rage or horror he's not sure.

"Anyone left in the building?" he asks, pulling out his phone. Parker shakes her head no.

"Just Taylor," she says darkly, and gives him a nod. Taylor, who ordered that this should be done to Eliot; who sought to profit off of Eliot's torture.

From a safe distance, with a glance at Eliot's bloody clothes and without a single ounce of regret, Alec blows the shit out of the building.

Then, as Parker drives at something approaching light speed towards the hospital, he pulls out the IDs they'll need to get Eliot admitted and treated without sending up any red flags.

Once he's done that, he kisses Eliot on the temple and does his best to steady him, so that the bumps on the road don't jar him too badly. If Eliot objects to Alec taking liberties, he can just live long enough to tell him off.

*

"That was a dumbass, bone-headed risk," Eliot says, as soon as he's conscious and able to speak.

"Eh," Alec says, "retrieval ain't so hard."

"We got you, didn't we?" Parker asks.

Eliot glowers at them both, but when they reach out for him, he reaches back, and holds their hands, one of them on each side of the hospital bed. His grip isn't as strong as it usually is, so Alec makes up for it by squeezing back just as hard.

"You got me," Eliot says shakily. "I knew you'd come and get me."

Parker and Alec nod, because of course they'd go and get him, of course. But Eliot shakes his head, like he's trying to shake out a thought that doesn't quite fit.

"I knew," he repeats, in a tone of disbelief.

Alec doesn't know what to say to that, so he just holds on tight to the warm solid weight of Eliot's hand, and watches the tears slip unselfconsciously down Parker's face, and waits for Eliot to sleep again.

*

It's not that Alec regrets storming the building and saving Eliot's life and bringing him back home, per se. It's just that life would've been a lot easier if they hadn't, because unsurprisingly, and as suggested by past experience, Eliot when injured is completely insufferable. Even Parker, who went crawling through air ducts and rescuing waitresses when she was injured, complains about how bad a patient Eliot is.

"Sit down and eat your cereal," she insists, shoving his shoulder down hard so that he thumps back into the chair. "The doctor said rest."

"I can't eat this crap anymore," Eliot says. "Between you feeding me cereal and Hardison feeding me Hot Pockets, I am going to die of malnutrition. Or poisoning. What's in those Hot Pockets anyway?"

"The mystery is part of the attraction," Alec says absently, staring at his computer. There's hinky stuff in Van Roy's financials, he knows it; he just has to track it down.

"No it's not," Eliot replies, angry.

"Anyway, I made you soup yesterday," Alec adds.

"No you didn't. I don't know what that was, but it wasn't soup."

"Tough. Don't get kidnapped next time."

Eliot shuts up for a long minute, during which Parker waves the bowl of cereal under his nose in an attempt to make it enticing. It's the kind with dried fruit and bran, which Parker would never touch, herself; all her cereal choices involve bright colors and the word "frosted." Eliot doesn't seem to have the patience right now to recognize that she's trying, though.

"That's it, I'm cooking. We need real food."

Parker looks up at Alec in exasperation, and Alec shrugs.

"Let him try it," he says. "Last time he tried it, it hurt so bad to use the crutches that after a while he collapsed and had to be carried back to bed, but hey why not."

"That's passive-aggressive bullshit," Eliot says, balancing on the crutches and hauling himself up.

"Eliot," Alec says, finally turning towards him, "we will order in. We will order in from your favorite restaurant. We will order in from restaurants that don't even do delivery but will deliver for bazillionaires. Just sit your ass down."

Eliot's making the face he makes when he really really wants to beat someone up, but can't find anyone in the immediate vicinity who deserves it. While he hesitates, Parker starts poking him in the side and arms with increasing vehemence.

"Sit down!" she says, and her face is the face she makes when there's a lock in front of her that's particularly pissing her off. Eliot collapses down again, and winces.

"Good," she says. "Finally."

"I can hire a goddamn nurse," Eliot mutters, not for the first time. "I done it before."

"No one believed that was a nurse," Alec says, remembering. "And we can look after you."

"You can let me lick my fucking wounds in private and get back to business," Eliot yells. "I'm no use to you like this."

Parker shares another look with Alec, one that eloquently says, "can you even believe that I hate this guy so much, yet simultaneously feel pity for him and think he's adorable?" Alec knows just the feeling.

"It's not about being useful," Parker says, bracing against the arms of the chair and bending down over Eliot. She stares him down until he looks properly cowed, then stands up again and gestures at the door. "Go if you want, Eliot, no one's stopping you." She says it softly, sincerely.

"But don't act like you're a burden," Alec adds, softly.

Eliot stays where he is.

"So what do you all want to eat?" Alec asks, opening a new tab. "Dinner's on me."

*

"You guys'd really keep around some fucked up hitter who can't even walk," Eliot says, only because he's drunk and high on the inadvisable but apparently delicious combination of alcohol and vicodin.

"Yeah, idiot," Alec sighs, loading him into bed. "If you don't get better I'll teach you to hack, then I'll go out and do your job."

Eliot laughs. Alec pulls the blankets up over him.

"Don't be a hitter, Alec. It's shitty pay and more concussions than the NFL."

"I noticed that, yeah. We gotta work on your retirement plan."

"Never really thought I needed one," Eliot sighs. His eyes are closing and he's snuggling down into the bed, and if Alec didn't have such superb self-control, he'd snuggle right down next to him.

He smiles, even though Eliot can't see him. "I noticed that, too."

*

After a week and a half, Alec gets tired enough of Eliot's frustrated cabin fever that he takes himself to Home Depot and comes back with enough metal to build his very own Terminator. Or his very own Eliot-sized jungle gym, which is what he, sadly, actually intends to use it for.

"Why is there drilling," Eliot yells, swinging himself out of the bedroom on his crutches and glaring at Alec. To be fair, it is seven in the morning, but dammit Alec was excited about the project, and anyway Eliot should be grateful.

"I'm making you some exercise equipment," Alec says, because he discarded the phrase a playground to keep your hyperactive toddler ass occupied as probably too antagonizing, and it's not like Eliot doesn't have other limbs he can use to kill Alec if he wants. Hell, he's getting dangerous with those crutches.

Eliot glances around, surprised, and Alec gestures at the bars and grips he's already installed. He's only about halfway done, but it's already a pretty complex system.

"Huh," he says, dropping one crutch and testing a low bar. "Not just for chin-ups, huh?"

"I admit I had Parker in mind as well," he admits. "But you climb, right?"

"Sometimes," Eliot agrees.

By the time Parker gets back from her morning parkour run, Alec's packing away the power tools, and Eliot's moving hand-over-hand across the ceiling like a monkey.

"Oooooh," she says, immediately flipping herself up into the air to join Eliot. Alec watches them clamber around, both of them circumnavigating the room without touching the ground – and, in Eliot's case, without using his legs. Parker, of course, swings from her knees and clings to near-invisible toeholds, but Eliot will have to wait to be able to do that with her.

"I knew it," Alec says smugly. "This is just like My Cat From Hell, give you guys access to vertical spaces and all of a sudden you're up surveying your territory. I should've known."

"M'not a cat," Eliot huffs out, as he glances at the space around him and tries to figure out his next move. Parker, flying through the air with so much hang time that Alec wonders once again if she's secretly got the X-gene, blows right by him.

"Just keep telling yourself that," Alec laughs. Though, secretly, he wonders if Pitbulls and Parolees might be the more appropriate analogy. Then he wonders if he's been watching too much Animal Planet.

Eventually Eliot gets tired and uses the bars to lower himself back down into one of the comfy chairs. Alec brings him his crutches, then shows him the chair he got for Eliot to use in the kitchen. It's got back support, so Eliot won't exhaust himself just by sitting up, and it's exactly the right height for him to reach the countertop.

Eliot grins, flushed and sweaty and happy, and then he makes them pancakes, so all in all Alec counts it as time and money well spent.

*

Eliot notices the syringe on the table before Alec even has to bring it up. "That for me?" he asks, nodding at it. Alec looks up to meet his eyes.

"They cut the last one out of you," he says. He still can't keep the anger out of his voice when he thinks about that, about goons cutting into Eliot and pulling Alec's tech out of him. "But this one's shielded better. Shouldn't show up unless they're really looking for it."

"Good," Eliot says, and sits down backwards on the second desk chair, leaning forward over the backrest. "Put it in."

Eliot's wearing a t-shirt and hoodie.

"Uh, can you – " Alec gestures at the clothes.

"Right." Eliot shucks off the hoodie, then, without Alec having to ask, pulls the t-shirt over his head and drops it on the floor.

"Turn around," Alec says, dry mouthed. He licks his lips unconsciously as Eliot does it, swiveling on the desk chair and bending his head. Gently, Alec brushes Eliot's hair aside to bare the nape of his neck, but the hair just falls right back into place.

"Here," Eliot says. He reaches back and runs his hand across his neck, pulling his hair over his shoulder and out of the way.

"Thanks." Carefully, doing it just like the vet videos on Youtube, Alec grabs up the layer of skin and fat between Eliot's collarbones.

"It's bigger than the last one," Alec says, apologetically. "S'gonna hurt."

"Just do it already," Eliot mutters. He keeps his head bent forward, exposing his back, his neck, all his vulnerable points. Alec can't stop looking at the knobs of his spine.

"Okay," Alec says, and pushes the needle into Eliot's body, avoiding the rough red scar where Taylor's men cut his last transponder out.

Eliot gives a little hiss of pain at the sensation of the needle inside him, which is more sound than he makes when he's punched, or kicked, or breaks his bones.

"Almost done," Alec says, depressing the plunger. "Hang on."

"I'm fine," Eliot says, but there's no defensiveness to it. Alec finishes and pulls the needle back out. There's only a tiny pinprick of blood. Alec picks up the alcohol and cotton that he got for this purpose and swabs gently at the hole, the near-invisible place where Eliot was willing to be marked.

"Done," Alec says.

Turning around again, Eliot bends from where he's sitting to pick up his t-shirt and hoodie again, pulling them back on. "I'm all GPSed again?"

"Well, you're transponded again. Technically it's a transponder, works with different trackers I've installed all over the city. Putting a whole GPS tracker in your body would be difficult."

"So you set these up all over? When did you do that?"

Alec smiles. "When I figured out your propensity for getting your dumb ass lost."

Eliot rolls his eyes and punches Alec lightly in the shoulder. "Thanks, man."

"Anytime," Alec responds. He watches Eliot walk away, and doesn't miss the way he rubs at the space between his shoulderblades as he goes, touching the place where he's tagged.

*

It's a few days before Eliot's casts are due to come off when Alec walks out of the ensuite bathroom, into the bedroom he shares with Parker, and finds Eliot in their bed.

He pauses with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, halfway between one molar and the next.

"Is this okay?" Eliot asks. "I can't exactly curl up on the floor."

To Alec, this seems like a perfectly reasonable argument: since I can't take my accustomed place at your feet, is it all right if I sleep in your bed? even though he recognizes that, to an outsider – even to Nate or Sophie – it might look weird.

"Yeah, man." Some toothpaste dribbles down Alec's chin, not his sexiest moment of all time, and he ducks back into the bathroom.

When he comes back out again, Parker's curled up next to Eliot. Alec wonders what he did to deserve these two incredibly sneaky people. Eliot is sneaky even with his legs in casts, which is truly frightening.

Eliot squirms a little under the covers, looking like he's starting to regret his decision, maybe because Parker's petting his bare arm in that slightly creepy way she has. Alec's used to it by now, but he can see how it'd be disconcerting to some people.

"Eliot, man, you want a hand back to your room, let me know," he offers. Eliot rolls his eyes.

"When I need your help I'll say so," he growls. Alec chuckles and climbs in on Eliot's other side. Then he has to forgive Parker her creepy petting, because Eliot is soft and warm and half-naked and right there beside him, and Alec can't help but pet him a little himself.

After Alec turns the lights off, Eliot relaxes, like maybe the dark gives him permission to take what he wants. Parker is running her fingers through Eliot's hair slowly, rhythmically – she's pretty good at it now – and after a minute or two, Eliot shuffles down in the covers and lays his head on Parker's shoulder. She goes on petting him, and he nuzzles against her, his breathing steadying out.

Alec curls himself against Eliot's other side. After a minute, Eliot reaches back and takes Alec's hand stiffly, pulling it over his waist. It feels good to spread his hand over Eliot's stomach, to feel the solidity and density of him. Alec has big hands, and he can span a lot of Eliot's skin when he spreads his fingers.

"I can't, you know," Eliot mutters. "The painkillers." Alec figures that's an excuse; Eliot hasn't been taking that many painkillers this last week, and he's almost better.

"But you want to," Parker asks.

"I always wanted to." Breathed into the dark like a confession. Which is dumb, because it's not like Alec and Parker didn't know that already.

"You can have whatever you need from us," Alec says, because long practice with Parker taught him that sometimes you just need to offer something and wait for the wild animal to decide to take it from you.

Parker makes a noise of agreement, and Eliot's hand comes down to cover Alec's where it's pressed to his belly.

Testing a theory, Alec adds, "You're our boy."

Eliot's hand clenches on his, only for a moment, but it's enough for Alec to know.

"Yeah," Eliot says. "I – yeah. That's what I want."

They lie in the dark together with that between them, the revelation of Eliot's desire – or, no; the revelation of Eliot's willingness to share his desire with them.

Alec sleeps, for the first time, with both of them in his arms, and hopes to wake up that way.

*

"Call," Eliot grins, and allows a few seconds, just enough time for the mark's confidence to fade, before showing his hand: full house, queens over jacks. In the flash of anger in the mark's eyes, Alec sees the whole con unfold before them, perfect and elegant. Eliot's snotty little smile as he rakes in the chips makes the anger flare even brighter, and Alec laughs at his computer screen with pure joy.

"This one feels good," Parker says, because she truly doesn't believe in luck, or in jinxing them. She's right, though, it does feel good, and Alec can't help but wrap an arm around Eliot's neck when he comes back to the van, can't help but give him a little shake in triumph.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Eliot grins. "I thought I was gonna bust out laughing."

"You did great," Parker says. "Now you just have to seduce his wife."

Eliot rubs his palms together. "Bring it on," he says.

"Keep it gentlemanly, now," Alec cautions him, and Eliot, high on whatever grifter's endorphins are rushing through his system, grabs Alec up and kisses him, full and loud, on the mouth.

"I ain't nothing but a gentleman," Eliot breathes. He looks surprised, surprised at himself, maybe, but elated too. Alec only has enough time for his breath to catch in his throat before they both have a lap full of Parker, Parker who's straddling Eliot's lap and kissing him dramatically. Parker's good at that kind of kiss, the big showy kind, like something from the silver screen.

"I got jealous," Parker says, when she pulls back. "Alec's kissed you twice now."

"Then I guess you get one more to even the score," Eliot drawls, and they kiss again, wet and dirty and practically on top of Alec, so that he really can't complain about being left out.

They don't fuck, though, not there in the van, and not later in the hotel room, even though they're all present and willing. Alec thinks they're waiting, all three of them still waiting for something else to happen: for the tumblers to fall and align, for the lock to click and the last door to swing open. He lies in bed with Parker, and Eliot lies on the floor at their feet, and not fucking makes it better, makes the air between them rich and heavy with anticipation.

So they don't fuck, but Alec knows they're going to. He knows it from the hot hooded looks that Eliot gives him and the cackling glee all over Parker's face, knows it from the feeling running through his own body, hot and big along his nerves.

The con goes perfectly, ultraviolet all the way, and Alec doesn't even realize until the end that Eliot didn't have to punch a single person to get it done.

It obviously didn't escape Parker's attention, though, because as they pack the van and get ready to roll out of town she tugs on a strand of Eliot's hair and says, "You make quite the grifter."

"I kinda miss hitting people, though," Eliot sighs. But he doesn't sound unsatisfied.

"Get through another couple of weeks of physical therapy, and I'll have a con all ready for you with plenty of violence," Parker promises. "I wouldn't want you to get rusty."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Eliot says, grinning, almost bouncing, for all the world as if Parker just offered him walkies. Alec does his best to hide his smile, but he doesn't think he's very successful.

"Work on that poker face, son," Eliot laughs, as Parker kisses him again, on the temple this time.

*

It's after Parker's violent mission that it goes down. Eliot dances through half a dozen fights with trained professionals, as fast as he's ever been, his legs finally built up enough to support him properly again. Every fist, every elbow strike, every kick is solid, and precise, and just barely held in check: it's clear that Eliot's been waiting for this for a while. When he emerges from the stairwell he's flushed, panting, hair wild around his face, scrapes and bruises over his knuckles but pretty much no where else.

"Have fun?" Alec asks, smiling even though he has to keep his eyes on his computer screen. This security system is no Sterenko, but it ain't no slouch, either.

"You have no idea," Eliot pants. Parker drops down from the ceiling, holding her newly-made wax copy of the key in her hands.

"This should speed things up," she says, and fakes the CEO's thumbprint with a printout and some gum before sliding the key into the lock. She's busy slipping past the motion sensors, and Alec's busy keeping the security cameras from seeing them, when one more guy comes up the stairwell and finds them.

"Hey there," Eliot says, smiling. His position isn't optimal – he was securing the other door, not guarding the stairwell – but he runs fast, in that angry, terrifying way that he has, moving to cut the guy off.

The guy gets almost within five feet of Alec before Eliot tackles him to the ground. Alec allows himself to glance up, just for a moment, so that he can see it happen, take in Eliot's fury and his unleashed energy as he bears their would-be attacker to the floor and punches him, twice, in the face.

"Beautiful," Alec says, before he has to drop his eyes to look at his screen again. As he does, though, he catches Eliot's pleased smile.

"Thanks, man. I take pride in my work."

"Eliot, we got an exit?" Parker calls, coming out of the vault with the locket.

"Ready to go," Eliot replies. Parker grins.

"Good."

There's not even any question about it: they get home, Parker tosses the locket on the coffee table (as careless as Alec's ever seen her be with priceless jewelry) and they fall into one another, kissing and touching like it was just the capstone in Parker's plan. Hell, maybe it was.

Parker sheds her clothing so gracefully that Alec almost can't see her do it: a sleight-of-whole-body move that he'll never really get used to. He follows her example with a little less grace, pulling his t-shirt over his head and unbuttoning his jeans as they move towards the bedroom.

When he spins to see what Eliot's doing, he's confronted by the sight of Eliot's bare chest, still bearing all the fucked-up scars that Eliot had shown him months ago. Alec runs his hands over it, unable to help himself, and at Eliot's self-satisfied little smirk, he smacks his ass.

"Cocky bastard," Alec mutters. "Think you're so pretty."

Eliot laughs and shakes his hair back like a L'Oréal model. "Yup."

"He is pretty, though," Parker says, and pulls Eliot's pants and boxers off as she flips him onto the bed. Eliot goes willingly, face first and naked, running his palms against the covers as if he's desperate for some kind of sensation against his skin and can't quite wait for Parker and Alec to start touching him.

His ass is perfect. Alec slaps it again, so that he can hear the sound of his palm against Eliot's skin. Eliot grunts, and his fingertips dig into the blankets.

Parker sits on the bed, scooting around to where Eliot's head is, and takes his face in her hands. "How do you want it, Eliot?" she asks, so sweetly that Alec feels nothing but steel in her voice.

Eliot pushes himself up on his arms, like half of a push-up. "Just wanna do you both. Get you off. Give you what you want."

Parker runs her hand through his hair, now a long-practiced move between them, and Eliot shudders. His eyes close and he turns to mouth at her hand helplessly. Alec wants very badly to fuck him, and use him, and hold him, and make him feel that happy all the time.

"You wanna be our good boy?" Parker asks.

Eliot's head hangs down between his broad, muscled shoulders. "Yeah."

Alec shucks the rest of his clothes and crawls up the bed behind Eliot. "You're gonna be so good for us," he says, sliding his palm up Eliot's spine. Up the bed, Parker is kissing Eliot and squirming up underneath him, grabbing one of his hands and putting it on her breast.

"Pinch it," she says, and he does, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger while they kiss hard and desperate.

Alec, meanwhile, runs his hands up Eliot's thighs, letting his thumbs press up against his asshole.

"I wanna take you like this, Eliot," he says, rubbing slowly, pushing in just a little. "You gonna let me?"

"Yes," Eliot says, breaking his kiss with Parker and groaning. "Yes, yes, yes, do it, goddammit."

Alec grabs some lube and condoms from the bedside table and gets his fingers slick, bending down to kiss the base of Eliot's spine as he does it. Eliot groans into Parker's mouth, and Alec smiles.

"Sensitive there?" he asks, kissing him in the same spot again, slow and wet and sucking. When he pulls back, he notices for the first time the ridge of scar tissue next to where his mouth was, where a blade of some kind barely missed Eliot's spine.

"Next to the scar tissue," Eliot grunts out, as Parker runs her teeth over his neck.

"That was a close one," Alec says, and puts his fingers into Eliot's body. Eliot opens around him, and after a minute, spreads his knees a little further apart on the bed to give him more access.

"There's one down here just above his heart," Parker says, softly, into Eliot's ear. "Bullet hit a rib?"

"Nine millimeter," Eliot agrees, groaning and twisting himself backwards onto Alec's fingers. "Bad angle. Got lucky."

Alec has his free hand on Eliot's left thigh, holding him as best he can, but the thick muscles there bunch and push against him, all Eliot's power and strength only partially restrained.

"But you're here with us now," Alec says.

"And I ain't gonna be here much longer you don't stop jawing and fuck me," Eliot pants. His accent gets more pronounced in bed. Like he loses control over it.

"Parker, you wanna fuck him at the same time?" Alec asks. Parker likes balance in all things, so he expects her to say yes immediately, but instead she hmmms.

"You start," she says. "I wanna play with him some more."

Eliot drops his forehead to Parker's shoulder at this, and she responds by digging her hands into his hair and tugging firmly.

Alec rolls on a condom and pushes in, working himself slowly into Eliot's ass. Eliot growls low, the noise he makes instead of a purr, and pushes backwards to meet him.

"That's gorgeous, Eliot, mmm," Alec says. "You feel good. You're so good."

It's a long slow slide into him, until he's holding tight to Eliot's hips and Eliot, beneath him, is holding tight to Parker's shoulders, breathing hard and still braced with his forehead against her collarbone.

"You're doing so good, baby," Parker coos. She calls Alec baby in bed, too. Hearing her say it to Eliot makes Alec shiver, a ripple of want passing through his entire body. Shifting slightly, Parker lifts her hips – lifts her whole body effortlessly up off the bed – and wraps her legs around Eliot's waist. Alec thinks she's going to fuck him like that, and then for a second he thinks she already is, but after a minute he sees that she's just running her pussy along his dick, teasing him, teasing herself, getting them both warm and wet but not letting him in.

Eliot groans and takes it.

"So good," Alec pants. He's fucking him in earnest now, hard and slow, the way he's always wanted to do it to Eliot. Giving him everything, taking his time.

"Say it," Eliot gasps. "Will you – please, will you say it." They don't answer, because they're not sure what he means. After a second, Eliot adds, "Say I'm yours."

Parker throws back her head and laughs, thrusting her hips up to stroke against Eliot's dick again, a long slow tease.

"Of course you're ours," she says. "Our boy." Alec feels Eliot tremble beneath him, and makes himself slow down. He wants to draw this out. He doesn't want it to ever end.

"Our good boy," Alec agrees, and all he can hear is the harsh sound of their breathing, the soft slide of their skin, the wet sounds at the places where they're joined together.

"I want your mouth, Eliot," Parker says. She slides up the bed until Eliot's face is level with her belly. "Bend your head and get me off." She fists a hand in his hair, and, looking him in the eyes, guides him down. He can't see from this angle, but Alec imagines Eliot closing his eyes, and licking his lips, and seeking out Parker's heat with his mouth.

Instead he watches the movement in the muscles of Eliot's tanned shoulders as he licks into Parker. He's taking his weight on his elbows and holding Parker's thighs open with his hands, but despite the precarious position, despite Alec fucking him hard and deep, Eliot doesn't move, solid and braced and utterly unmoving beneath him. Alec runs his hands up and down Eliot's torso as he fucks him, over his ribs, under his body to rub against his nipples. Eliot groans, which makes Parker groan and arch, which pushes Eliot's firm ass back against the cradle of Alec's hips, so he groans too.

"This is just where we wanted you," Alec breathes. "Right here between us."

Parker starts to laugh the way she does when she's close to coming, short huffing breaths of utter delight. Her hands slip down out of Eliot's hair and rest on his shoulders instead, grasping and pulling against the muscles there, tugging him in closer.

"Harder," she says, "Harder, Eliot, oh – "

Alec can only just see the line of Eliot's jaw as it works, the way his lips pull back to bare his teeth, the flash of his tongue, pressing hard and sure into Parker's pussy. She lets out one more long laugh that turns into a cry, her head falling back and her hands clenching against Eliot's strong, steady body.

"Oh, baby, that's so beautiful," Alec groans. Eliot doesn't stop licking, keeps lapping at her wet pussy the whole way through, so that when Parker finally stops coming she's boneless and sated, thumping back down into the mattress with a sigh.

"That was great," Parker says. "You have a great mouth." Reaching out, Parker rubs her thumb against his cheek, smearing the wetness there. Eliot's mouth falls open at her touch and his breath emerges loud and harsh into the quiet bedroom.

"Great ass, too," Alec says. He's just floating in the sensation of it right now, but he's getting to where he'd like to come sometime soon.

"What do you want, Eliot? Can you come like this?" Parker asks.

Eliot shakes his head, his hair falling down to frame his face. "No. I need a little help, here, darlin." Alec's fucking him hard enough, driving him down against the mattress, that it might not be a simple task for Eliot to jerk himself off. He likes that idea, that Eliot has to wait for them to get him off. They said that he was theirs, that he belongs to them, and Alec doesn't think it was just sex talk; this makes it real, that Eliot would wait for them to decide how to make him come.

"Alec," Parker says, "give me your hand."

Alec doesn't even hesitate, just takes one hand off of Eliot's hip and offers it to Parker. She coats it in lube, then wraps his fingers slowly around Eliot's hot, hard cock.

"Beautiful," she sighs. "Jerk him off slow. I want to watch."

"Yes ma'am," Alec says, which makes Eliot sort of laugh and groan at the same time.

"Just like that, god, Alec," Eliot says through gritted teeth as Alec begins to stroke him. "That's just what I need."

"I know," Alec breathes, and thumbs hard over the tip of Eliot's cock.

"Gonna come," Eliot says. "God, god, god, gonna come – "

Parker reaches under them and threads her fingers in with Alec's, so that they're both holding him, both stroking him off.

"You're so good, Eliot. Our good boy, so good, you belong to us," Parker says softly, amid Eliot's soft helpless groans. She kisses him softly on the cheek. "Come now. Do it." And Eliot does, falling back down onto his elbows and groaning as he comes and comes all over their hands. Alec's overwhelmed by the sight of it, Eliot messy and open, coming beneath him, coming into his hand and Parker's; he takes a deep, sudden breath, and fucks Eliot a couple more times before coming too, shaking against the feeling of Eliot's hard scarred body beneath him, Eliot's softening cock in his hands, and Parker's eyes on them both, voracious and greedy.

"That was really pretty," Parker says, what feels like a million years later. Alec struggles clumsily upwards until he finds enough coordination to slip his cock out of Eliot's ass and get rid of the condom; as he does so, Eliot flips over beneath him, naked and unselfconscious.

"Ugh. The bed is wet."

"That's your fault," Parker says.

Eliot flings his arm across his eyes and gasps for air. "You came all over my face, Parker," he protests. "It's at least a little your fault."

"You both nasty," Alec proclaims, tossing the condom in the direction of the trash basket, smiling when it hits its target. "You're lucky you're both gorgeous athletes who like to steal shit with me."

"We love you too," Eliot laughs from behind his arm. Alec's eyebrows shoot up, but Parker doesn't look surprised at all.

"Eliot always struck me as a post-coital love confessions kind of guy," she says, smiling.

Eliot takes his arm off his head and sits up on his elbows. Alec's momentarily distracted by the play of his abs as he does it, because damn, the man is just not getting any less pretty, even with his hair all flyaway and tangled and his cock soft and wet against his thigh.

"What, so, taking bullets for you wasn't enough of a love confession?" he asks crankily.

"We just thought you liked taking bullets," Alec shrugs, then ducks, laughing, as Eliot throws a pillow at him.

*

Parker's not wrong, though, because the more nights they spend together, the more confessions they hear tumbling out of Eliot's mouth, quiet and hushed and only in the darkness, as if he thinks that makes them less real. Parker and Alec lie still beside him and listen, every time, straining their bodies to hear every word.

"I wanted you both so much," Eliot tells them, after the second night they all spend together. "I didn't want to get in the way."

and

"I thought I'd be dead by now," he tells them, when they sleep together in a big king bed in a hotel room, a week after they start fucking, after a long day of recon. Eliot's going to go undercover as a record producer on this one, since his knee is bothering him a little and Parker decided to bench him from fight duty for a few days. "Thought I'd be long dead."

and

"Someday I want you both to fuck me at once, Parker with the strap-on." Alec's mind shorts out at this sighed admission, so that he almost misses the second part: "I want you both to pin me down so I can't do anything but open for you."

They try to pay him back in kind, with secrets of their own, though Alec, who's never had a lot of secrets to begin with, finds this a little harder than Parker does. Parker doesn't ever say much, but when she does, she says:

"I killed people. When I was a kid. You have to, sometimes."

and

"No one's ever stuck around before."

and

"This is what I want forever."

And Alec says:

"I have aliases for us all over the world. Places we own under different names. Places we can go. They're all built for three." At Eliot's questioning look, he adds, "They've been places built for three for a long time now."

and

"I want you two to meet my Nana."

and, hesitatingly,

"I like when Eliot says he belongs to us. I don't – I don't know if that makes me a bad person, liking that so much."

At this, Parker frowns. "Because it's possessive?" she asks. "Would you stop Eliot from leaving, if he wanted to go? Or make him do things he doesn't want?"

"No," Alec says impatiently. "But – "

"Then it's okay."

Eliot's quiet, but Alec knows he's not asleep. "Eliot?" he says.

"I like it," Eliot says, eventually. "I want it. Don't reckon there's harm in it."

Parker strokes his hair, then reaches around him to stroke Alec's jaw. Alec leans into her touch. Eliot reaches up, too, runs his short fingernails down Alec's bicep, then up again, down and up, thoughtfully. Alec lets himself be soothed by their touch, their callused hands soft against his body.

"Eliot," Alec says slowly, because this is one secret he'd like to let go of. "I heard you that day, when you were fighting the three dudes."

"What three dudes?" Eliot sounds both sleepy and grumpy, which is the most common Eliot dwarf-name combination. "I fight three dudes all the time."

"In the warehouse. On the Reverend whatsisname case, the fake faith healer."

Eliot's fingers pause in their lazy stroking, then start up again.

"Yeah?" he sounds a little apprehensive, but mostly curious. Alec takes a breath.

"Yeah. And you said – he said you were our dog. And you said you were."

"Yeah," Eliot sighs. "I did." Beside him, in the dark, Eliot closes his eyes tight, as if to brace against a bright light. "Meant it, too."

"You said you didn't like that, when I called you a puppy," Parker says. Her breath warms the space between them.

"I don't. Or, I do, but I don't. I wanted it. It's – complicated."

"Okay," Alec says softly. It's not really an explanation, but it's half of one, and he can wait for the second half, whenever it might come.

They're all quiet for a long time, and then Eliot speaks again.

"Moreau used to call me. That. His dog." He laughs hollowly. "His vicious little pitbull."

"Pitbulls aren't vicious," Parker says, her voice the timbre of a frown. "They're just dogs." Parker, Alec knows, has a story about stealing from drug lords and being chased by half a dozen pitbulls, the kind that are trained to be aggressive and deprived of food until they go crazy, dogs that were snapping at her heels and baying for her blood as she ran, and climbed, and escaped. She has a scar on her left calf where one of them almost took her down. It's amazing that she would speak up on their behalf.

But then, Alec thinks, Parker knows what it is to be made vicious by anger and deprivation.

He figures Eliot does too.

"Did you and Moreau . . . " Alec makes a vague gesture that he hopes is expressive enough, because he can't quite bring himself to ask if Moreau and Eliot used to bone down.

"No," Eliot says, firmly. "Never. But he . . . liked to think of me that way." A pause, and then Eliot continues, "I liked it too. Even though – even though there was so much wrong there. I liked it."

"Do you want to be our dog now instead?" Parker asks, without guile. "Our little pitbull?"

Eliot's silence is heartbreaking, and so delicate that Alec can't bear to disturb it, so he waits as it spins out before them, fine as the thinnest thread of blown glass.

After a long time, Eliot says, "I think so."

"That's what you already are, anyway," Parker says. "Our loyal protector. Part of our family."

"You wouldn't chain me up in the backyard?" Eliot smiles, like he's trying to play it off, but Parker takes the question seriously.

"You'd sleep in the bedroom with us, and we'd give you treats and rub your belly." Her hand slips down Eliot's chest, and she does start rubbing slow, soothing circles on Eliot's belly. Eliot arches up into it.

"And you'd get all the toys and playtime you wanted," Alec smiles, stretching out next to them, leaning over to kiss Eliot's neck gently.

Eliot shifts, obviously turned on, obviously uncomfortable. "I – it's dumb, you guys don't have to – I feel stupid asking you for this."

Parker glances helplessly over at Alec, her "help me with these feelings words" look again, and Alec throws himself in, not quite certain what he's going to say but certain of the feeling he wants to express.

"It isn't dumb," Alec breathes. "You want to be useful, know you're doing good. Want someone to tell you you're good, so you can be sure."

Eliot turns his head to kiss Alec, hot and fast and sharp. "I can't always be sure," he mutters, a moment later, into Alec's mouth, so quietly that Alec almost can't hear the words.

"You think you're a bad man," Parker says, her hand still soothing slow circles on Eliot's belly. "But you think you can be a good dog." Eliot shudders under her hand, as if she's tickled him, or stabbed him.

"Yeah."

Parker sighs. "You think if you belong to us, we'll make you be good. Our good boy."

"Yeah." Eliot's voice is husky, strained and desperate. Alec's glad the light's not on, glad they only do this in the dark, because he knows Eliot wouldn't want them to see him right now.

Alec reaches out and brushes away the tear at the corner of Eliot's eye.

"You're good," Alec says, and kisses him again. "You're good, and I want you to be ours so bad. Our dog, our boy, our family. I want you to stay here with us."

Eliot, caught between the two of them, naked, desiring, arches into touch and says, "Till my dying day."