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Eliot is woken up from a mostly restful sleep by a ratta-tatt-tatt of rapid knocks on his bedroom door, and he’s awake in an instant and on alert, only to huff and relax a moment later when he hears Parker’s voice.
“Wake up, Eliot!” she calls, jiggling the handle to his locked door.
He knows she could get in if she wanted, of course, but he appreciates that she isn’t actively trying to get stabbed by trying to sneak into his bedroom.
Still, a bleary glance at the clock shows it’s not quite 6AM, and Eliot groans.
“Is anybody dead?” he asks, pushing himself up on his elbows but otherwise remaining snug in bed.
“No?” Parker says, voice tiling into a question, as if she doesn’t realize it’s 6 in the damn morning.
“Grievously injured, kidnapped, or otherwise needing me to punch somebody?” Eliot calls back, narrowing his eyes at the closed door.
“Ugh,” Parker says, and Eliot can hear the dull thud of her pressing her head against the door in irritation. “No.”
“Then what in the hell do you want at 6 in the morning?” Eliot asks.
“I’m coming in,” Parker warns, and she’s got the door popped open before Eliot can both protesting.
He takes her appearance in, looking far too awake, with cold-reddened cheeks and a wide smile on her face. Definitely not an emergency, then.
“It’s Christmas!” Parker says, bounding over and plopping herself down on Eliot’s bed, sitting criss-cross next to his feet and looking over at him expectantly.
Eliot drops back to lie flat against his pillow and groans, bringing up an arm to cover his eyes.
“We said no Christmas until at least 9am, Parker,” he says. “We had a whole meeting about it yesterday. I made cocoa.”
“It was delicious,” Parker agrees, smiling over at him with a placating look.
“Then I’ll ask again,” Eliot signs, not bothering to uncover his eyes or move, “what the hell do you want at 6 in the morning?”
“It’s snowing!” Parker exclaims, bed jostling as she bounces in place.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eliot grumbles, “this couldn’t wait until a reasonable hour?”
“What if the sun melts it by 9?” Parker says, “It barely snows here! It could happen.”
“The sun isn’t even fully up yet,” Eliot argues mildly. “This could have waited until at least 8.”
He can’t see her face, but he just knows Parker is plotting her next move silently.
“You’re already awake,” she says after a moment. “And I know you can’t fall back to sleep now. You might as well come play in the snow.”
“Go make Hardison play in the snow with you,” Eliot says, wonderingly idly if Parker will go away if he just ignores her long enough.
Parker cackles and grabs one of Eliot’s ankles over the blanket, shaking it.
“He’s in the van,” she says. “And he has coffee.”
“Fuck,” Eliot groans, knowing there’s really no point in going back to sleep now. “Why didn’t you start with that?”
Parker just shrugs and gestures towards Eliot’s bathroom.
“Go get ready,” she says. “We’re going to bug Nate next!”
A grin breaks out over Eliot’s face at that, and he finally gives in. At least the look on Nate’s face will be worth it.
By the time Parker, Hardison, and Eliot arrive at Nate’s building/their office, it’s almost 7 and the sun is fully out. The snow is still falling steadily, so Parker is less worried about it melting too soon now.
Nate opens the door before they can even get a key in, looking wide awake and freshly showered.
“Didn’t take you for a morning person,” Eliot drawl, observing Nate’s clean pajamas and thick house-robe, and his admittedly plush looking navy blue slippers.
“It’s Christmas,” Nate says, shrugging and moving aside to let them in.
To their not quite surprise, Sophie is there too, curled up on one of the armchairs in her own silky pajamas, lap covered by a plush green blanket. Her hair is also freshly washed.
Eliot, Parker, and Hardison exchange looks before Hardison shakes his head.
“I didn’t need that visual,” Hardison groans, looking over at Parker in distress. She just laughs at him and pets his head in mock-comfort.
Sophie, unfazed as always, gives Hardison a sly smirk and looks entirely too pleased with herself for his liking.
“Merry Merry,” she says, greeting them with a softer smile and a tilt of the coffee cup in her hand towards them.
“Do you wanna build a snow-man?” Parker asks, sing-song voice in a surprisingly good imitation of Anna from Frozen.
“I do not,” Sophie says, pausing to sip her drink before placing it back on the table beside her. “But you kids have fun. We’ll open gifts when Eliot drags you back in before you get frost bite.”
“We’re not children,” Eliot huffs, “You’re not even that much older than me.”
“I know how to not get frostbite,” Parker says, frowning slightly. “I even brought gloves!”
“Gifts?” Hardison asks, looking over at the Christmas tree with eagerness.
“Of course,” Sophie says. Who her response was intended for is unclear, but their pretty sure that was her intention.
Leaving everthing they don’t need in the apartment, Eliot and Hardison let Parker lead them outside to play in the snow.
“Hmm,” Parker says a while later as she studies the 6 foot snowman they’ve built. “He still needs something, I think.”
“We’ve got the corncob pipe,” Hardison says, “and the eyes made out of coal.”
“And the top hat,” Eliot adds, “even though we’re ruining a perfectly good silk lining.”
“It’ll dry,” Parker rolls her eyes.
“I think it’s the button nose,” Hardison says, finally. “It’s just not as cool looking as it sounds in the song.”
“We need a carrot!” Parker says excitedly, looking at the boys expectantly.
“Why would I just randomly have a carrot on me?” Hardison asks, shrugging at Parker.
Eliot, however, pulls out a somehow pristine carrot from his jacket pocket, handing it over to Parker with a smug grin.
“Always be prepared,” he says to Hardison, who is looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind.
“I’m sure you were quite the Boy Scout,” Hardison replies, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.
“It’s perfect!” Parker declares once she’s placed the carrot on the snowman’s face.
The three of them take a moment to take in their handiwork, stepping back so Hardison can take some pictures on his phone that he knows Parker will demand he send to her later.
Their snowman is just under Hardison’s height, and segmented in perfectly round mounds of snow, almost glistening in the thankfully dull sunlight. The coal makes up his eyes and mouth, as well as the buttons up his chest. In a last minute addition, Parker had pulled the deep purple scarf from her own neck and wrapped it artfully around the snowman’s neck.
“He needs a name,” Parker says, after Hardison has taken enough pictures for her.
“Name him whatever you want,” Eliot says, “Sophie will kill me if you actually freeze out here.”
“Hardison?” Parker asks, ignoring Eliot. “Suggestions?”
“Sunny,” Hardison replies after a moment of consideration. “Sunny the Snowman!”
“Really?” Eliot asks, wryly.
“Don’t see you coming up with any brilliant ideas,” Hardison says, glaring at Eliot lightly.
“I like it,” Parker says. “It makes him seem happy.”
“Makes no damn sense to name a snowman after the Sun,” Eliot grumbles under his breath.
“That’s why it’s funny,” Hardison grumbles back, not quite so under his breath.
“Stay cool, Sunny!” Parker says to the snowman, giving him a little wave as the three of them begin to walk away.
“Let’s go open some presents and drink some mulled cider!” she adds, skipping ahead of the guys, snow-boots clomping away in her merriment.
“I don’t remember promising any cider,” Eliot says to Hardison, who just gives him an amused look.
“You know you’ll make her mulled cider if she wants mulled cider. You gonna try to say no to that face when she’s so happy?”
“Let me have my illusions,” Eliot says, knowing full well that Hardison is right.
Hardison laughs loudly at that, breath coming out in a great puff of white steam around him, and for just a moment, Eliot lets himself be caught up in the joy of it all.
The snow is wet and cold, but it does give off an enchanted appearance where it’s blanketed down; stilling everything into moments like this, where the world around them is calm and quiet, and achingly beautiful.
Eliot smiles.
THE END