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Parker’s in charge of the plan — they have to be extra careful with this one, because the mark is familiar with their faces and knows their style. They convene in the semi-darkness of Hardison’s game room, faces illuminated by the glow of screens. Hardison has the list of items they need to procure, information faithfully gathered by Parker over the course of a month as she broke in and surveyed the space, bringing back tid-bits like “He hates passata” and “We’ll need a distraction tomorrow, make sure the knife goes missing”.
Sometimes, she had to be in the same room as the mark to draw out the right information, and those were the times that called for high-risk obfuscation. When Parker came back with her mouth smudged dark and tongue heavy with chocolate, Hardison complained, “Why’s it only allowed to be you, mama. I can do this part too, you know! I’m like a ninja assassin when I play Dungeons and Dragons.”
Parker just licked her lips and savoured the taste. Hardison pouted loudly, got a consolation kiss and a pat on the head for his trouble, and then went to the kitchen to try and gain a sympathetic ear from Eliot. Waving his arms around, he said, “I can be sneaky! I’m sneaky all the time, you know how sneaky you gotta be when you’re piggybacking into the White House encrypted servers? So sneaky! And I did it before you were even outta high school, man.”
Eliot grunted and brandished his knife. “Listen, we all saw you with the diamond job. That acting was only just better’n Sophie when she’s on a stage. You oversell it.”
He finished chopping his first onion and clasped Hardison’s neck briefly, stance softening. “Damnit Hardison, you don’t gotta do everything.” His eyes glinted in humour as he tapped on Hardison’s chest.
“And you definitely don’t gotta do a hinky accent every time, c’mon, it’s just embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing,” Hardison yelped. “I’ll tell you what’s embarrassing, it’s you Eliot. I come in here wanting some reassurance from my boyfriend and all I get are damn insults, it’s a tragedy.”
“Well, if you want dinner tonight, you’ll admit those insults are true and get outta my kitchen, Hardison.”
“But—”
“Go on, go play with your orc-friends. Come back when it’s done.”
Later, Hardison preened to himself, because he’d been the perfect distraction. Hinky accent his butt.
Though he hadn’t managed to get a cookie out of it.
***
Preparations made, they set the trap. Parker slinks in and plants the false evidence while Hardison covers her electronic tracks, creating a paper trail and letting street cameras catch tiny glimpses of her — just enough to be convincing, and easy enough to wipe after the job is done.
Their mark takes the bait with gusto. In fact, he damn near swallows the hook and takes the whole plan with him. Luckily, their team is the best at what they do.
***
The crossed arms tend to happen a lot. The scowl is just about second nature, even with them; can’t do much about a resting grumpy face, after all, and it usually comes in handy. The chin-tilt, on the other hand? That’s a sign of danger.
“Why is there a Dominoes pizza box on our counter?”
Parker smiles at him. “We ordered in! I was hungry and I wanted to practice tipping.”
The chin goes down a bit at this admission, but then: “Ok. I get that. You didn’t have to eat the damn thing, though. Could’ve given it to the brewpub staff and then ordered off the menu.” Eliot gestured indignantly to the box with its lid untucked. “You didn’t even eat the whole thing, you left the crusts. If you're gonna buy something, might as well not let anything go to waste.” Now Eliot rounds on Hardison, pressing, “Didn't your Nana teach you better than that?”
“Oh come on now, man, don't you bring my Nana into this. Nothing wrong with leaving a few crusts, the compost likes 'em just as well as other food scraps, you know that.” Hardison shrugs. “They were dry.”
He hopes that Parker’s ready for the explosion this statement is about to trigger, because Eliot’s face is Not Happy. His orders were to antagonise, and that’s what he’s doing, yes ma’am, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about riling up Eliot, especially not when he’s in the room and the punching bag is all the way down the hall. Not that Eliot will actually hurt them, but a man can get anxious with all the violent twitching happening in his proximity. Eliot is very passionate about food, bless him.
“Of course they were dry! You had mass-produced pizza delivered, it prob’ly wasn't hot either by the time it arrived. You got no taste at all, the both of you. All that sugar’s gone and melted your brains.”
“Man, orange soda is good for you, the fruit content is right there in the name,” Hardison is a brave, brave man, he tells himself as he pokes the bear with a stick again. But not even Elioot can make him give up his orange soda and his gummies.
Eliot sputters. “This is like. Like walking right past a diamond and stealing the quartz ring from two jewellery shops over, that’s what you two did.”
Okay, time to reel in the fish, before there's line back-lash.
Parker steps closer and winds herself around Eliot. “Why don’t you show us what the diamond looks like, then.”
She pokes his stiff shoulder. “I love diamonds, how could you let me get a quartz instead. Can my pizza come with a diamond on the side? As compensation?”
“Oh, your pizza. Now you’re wanting me to make you a pizza? Aren’t you full after eating that heavy dough monstrosity, huh?” Eliot stands firm. “The brewpub is right here. We make good food. This ain’t my fault.”
Parker pouts. Behind Eliot, she wiggles her fingers for Hardison to join in, so he tries to arrange his face accordingly. He’s not the best liar, he can admit it, but he really does want that pizza. Slinky cheese, sauce that’s not too sweet because actually he does know good things when he eats them, dough made special with love and fresh herbs that Eliot’s grown himself… that’s worth a pout. It’s also worth this ridiculous con to keep Parker from getting too bored.
“C’mon Eliot, you think we could resist your pizza? Just thinking about it’s got me salivating. Don’t you worry about our stomach capacity.” Especially because they hadn't actually eaten the Dominoes, Hardison thinks to himself.
Parker adds, “You have all the ingredients for the weird gourmet pizza you like, too.” She unwinds herself and trots over to the pantry, opening it wide and pretending to search for the jars she’d snuck in earlier.
Eliot turns to squint at her. “We don’t have any artichoke hearts or Moroccan-style pickled lemon in there. Get outta my pantry, Parker, before everything turns magically into cereal.”
With a flourish, Parker makes her reveal, plunking both ingredients onto the table. “Sure we do! Right here! We also have those tomatoes you like making the sauce out of in our fridge.”
“How do you know what’s—” Eliot splutters. “Is that why you’ve been watching me through the vents lately? Damnit Parker!”
He swivels, bewildered, between the both of them. “I have. Guys, I’ve cooked for you every night this week. I cook for you all the damn time. You know you can just ask me to make you something, right?”
“It's more fun this way,” Parker replies. “Pizza heist!” She does a little dance with the jars on the counter.
Eliot and Hardison exchange a look. “You didn't steal the pizza, Parker.”
“Not yet, but we will. Once you make it.”
Eliot grumbles, “you better eat my crusts, damnit.” But he's getting out the sugar and yeast, so they know they’ve won.
As their boyfriend starts on the pizza dough, Hardison comes around to wrap him in a hug and kiss his cheek in thanks. Parker pecks the other cheek, then pokes him in the shoulder again. “No weird stuff in mine. Only cheese.”
“Only cheese. Got it, highness.” Eliot’s eyes crinkle in a smile.