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[Fic] The Cat-Burglar Job Part 2

Title: The Cat-Burglar Job. [Part 2 of 3]
Pairing: Category error.
Rating: I don't think these thieves are being totally honest
Notes: Written with brown_betty, and betaed by skywardprodigal. This story may be considered to be set in an AU branching from about the middle of the The First David Job. Sequel to The Underwire Job. Part one here. Part three scheduled to be released next Friday.

Summary: Wherein Eliot begins to realise the extent of the hole he has dug, and Fish does not.

Eliot wasn't quite sure when seeing Nathan Ford had become the signal for thank god, someone to take over this clusterfuck, but even half-blind and still weepy, he was relieved. He couldn't quite feel that way about either Sophie or Hardison; Sophie could make him feel like a hick with hay in his hair at the best of times, and Hardison-- Eliot stumbled his way to Parker's kitchenette and ran more water over his face to make sure he'd gotten all the atomized chili pepper out of his eyes. Although the water was running, he could hear Parker tell them more or less what she'd already told him.

"Spencer?" said Nate, "what can you add?"

Eliot, with a jolt, realized Nate hadn't called him Spencer for a while; Nate was pissed. "He's going to look pretty funny when I rip out his tongue?" Eliot suggested, stalling a second, while he tried to put together something helpful from his ten minute impression. "He uh. I'd bet he's never worked with a partner twice in a row; he's most comfortable when a relationship is on a cash basis. He keeps his promises, but mostly because it's bad business otherwise. He's careful, and he's afraid of physical pain." Eliot grinned to himself at the last one.

Nate nodded. "Does that sound right to you, Parker?"

Parker was on the floor, looking perfectly relaxed, while a cat tried to climb the front of her chest, and although Eliot wasn't quite sure because she was in front of him, he thought she might be leaning against Hardison's leg. Parker looked up when Nate said her name.

"I guess? Did you notice anything about him, Grover?"

Grover had no contribution to make.

Eliot thought Hardison looked-- tense. Unhappy. Obviously, he'd bugged them, but the important question was, where had he put the bugs, and had they made any noise during the thank you kiss that meant nothing at all and especially not that he was going to make a play for Hardison's girl.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hardison asked.

Parker looked up. "He said not to."

"But you should have-- we're --"

"Oh. Is this part of the dating thing?"

Hardison winced, nodded, and crouched beside her. "I saw you upset," he said, careful and plain. "That made me upset, you get me?"

Parker tilted her head. "Huh. Okay. Yeah."

Eliot thought that he might be in the clear, but then Hardison looked at him and said "And why didn't you tell me?"

"That is an excellent question," Sophie said. "Parker, these drapes have got to go. I can recommend a fantastic interior designer."

"I promised Parker I wouldn't," Eliot said. And while Nate rolled his eyes, and Sophie made a tut-tut noise, Hardison nodded as if he understood, and something eased in Eliot's stomach.

"I like the curtains," Parker said. "Beige is very soothing. What are we going to do to Fish? I vote for explosions."

"That might be excessive," Nate suggested.

Parker rose to her feet, handed Grover and Susan to Hardison, and stalked towards Nate. "He stole my cats."

"Prison," Sophie said. "He locked your cats up; we'll lock him up. How about a new sofa, then?"

"Bastard fucking pepper-sprayed me," Eliot pointed out. "Whatever the plan is, there needs to be a part where I break his face."

Nate looked inscrutable. "I'll try to work that in."

* * *

Hardison tracked Fish's airport departure time and Eliot resisted his nagging urge to ask him if he was sure Fish was going to be there, or if he had just bought tickets to throw off possible pursuit, because he was, actually, sure that Hardison was at least as serious about this as he was.

"Stop watching over my shoulder, man, it's freaky. It's like trying to hack into the city electric while the librarian checks every fifteen minutes to make sure you ain't watching porn."

"Sorry," said Eliot, and went back to pacing the hallway. His eyes and stopped running, but the urge to rub them clear hadn't receded, so he was trying to keep his fingers knit to stop himself from rubbing them red again. Nate and Sophie were out setting up the hook, so Sophie couldn't threaten him, and Hardison had his headphones on, so Eliot figured it wasn't like he could hear him anyway, except a couple minutes later something flew out and hit him in the shin.

"Sit yo' ass down, man!" Hardison called, and held up his hand for whatever he'd thrown. Eliot retrieved it; it looked like one of his USB data things. "C'mon, he pepper-sprayed you, does it really bother you so much?"

Eliot snorted. "You've never been maced, obviously."

Hardison continued as if Eliot hadn't spoken. "'Cuz if you think you gotta win a fight with him to prove something, I promise, you're still manly enough for me."

"Yeah, but so's Parker," Eliot pointed out, and then heard what he'd said and tried to figure out if he'd just insinuated something he hadn't meant to. "Anyway," he said, quickly, "that's not it. Not all of it. I don't like someone loose out there who's gotten one over on us."

"Yeah," said Hardison. "I get that."

"I really want to pound him."

"Not in the plan," Hardison said.

Which was part of the problem. Eliot had pissed and moaned about it, not least because everyone else got to do what they were good at, and his role was restricted to staying out of sight. It wasn't a bad plan; it just didn't have nearly enough broken teeth.

"Okay," said Hardison. "Here's what's gonna happen. You sit in that chair and face that screen, and I introduce you to the wonderful world of Azeroth, where Alliance and Horde have united against the curse of the Scourge."

Eliot stared at him. "That's not even English."

"Shut it, sit it. You're playing a warrior. The more damage you deal, the more powerful you are." He nodded, lips pursed. "Yeah. Eliot smash. I'm hacking airport security cameras here, which they will eventually notice, so I got to concentrate."

"I'm not going to play games with elves," said Eliot, crossing his arms.

"That's cool. You could play a gnome, or a-- " Hardison abruptly cut himself off and rose a hand for silence. "He's on your left, Sophie, twenty meters, at the gate-"

Eliot crowded over Hardison's shoulder, and didn't even mind when the other man shoved him back a step. In the sketchy black and white security footage, Sophie walked in a little black trenchcoat and dark glasses, just a little too fast. Nothing anyone normal would notice, but a pace that would catch a professional's eye right away. Fish lifted his head, and froze, the same recognition tell he'd given Eliot, but with none of the fear.

Maybe he was a moron.

"Yeah, baby," Hardison crowed. "Fish is flopping. Set the hook."

Sophie teetered on one spindly heel and crashed right into him, then helped him up, her expressive face all polite apologies as she glanced behind, and then a really good look of dawning recognition.

"Sound," Eliot said. "Hardison, I wanna-"

"Backseat goddamn driver," Hardison muttered, but he fiddled with one of his computers, and the sound came out over the speakers, Sophie's voice warm and intimate:

"--heard about your work in Chicago, very impressive, Mr. Fish."

Fish's voice was a little flatter. "From the famous Ms. Deveraux, quite a compliment! I wish I could say that was entirely skill, but there was some luck involved, too."

"I find the very best in the business consistently make their own luck." Eliot could almost feel Sophie turning that hot look on him, the one that managed to promise everything without saying anything, and then a moment later disappeared so fast you'd think you'd imagined it.

"Have you been lucky, lately?"

"As it happens..." she said, her voice low, "I've run into a spot of bad luck. Tell me, Mr. Fish. Have you ever heard of Nathan Ford?"

"The IYS washout? Sure."

"The ex-IYS, now private agent, non-washout," she corrected, with a little grimace. "The man is relentless. And he's been following me for three weeks. He seems to think I have something to do with a large number of missing items from various art galleries and museums, stored right here in L.A."

"That's your cue," Eliot said, but Nate was already moving, just a glimpse of him behind a row of seats - facing the other direction and clearly hunting for her. Sophie directed Fish's eye, grabbed his arm, and pulled him off-camera.

"Go back corner," Hardison said, fingers flying. "Okay, gotcha."

The screen dissolved, then came up, showing the two at a table in the near-by bar.

"I was going to leave my lovelies and run," Sophie was saying, "but once he's sure I've left the city, I think the irritating Mr. Ford will find them in my absence. He's almost as good as he thinks he is."

Eliot bit back a chuckle.

"You can't move them?"

"Mr. Fish, I can't go to the bathroom without Ford two steps behind." Sophie's lashes went down, then up again. "I don't suppose I could prevail upon your good nature? For a fee, naturally."

"Come on, come on," Eliot said, bouncing on his toes. "Take it, take it."

Fish's face was settling into smug lines. "Sorry, Ms. Deveraux. No can do. But I might be able to take these things off your hands. Depending on what you've got, I might be willing to go as high as three million."

"Three million! The collection's worth three times that! I just want them moved."

Fish spread his hands. "Look, I'd be taking all the risks here. I get the goodies, and you get three mil in nice, easily transportable diamonds to set you up in your new digs. That's my offer. Sorry."

Sophie glared at him and stood abruptly. "I'll think about it."

"What is she doing?" Eliot demanded.

Fish settled back into his booth. "Now or never, Ms. Deveraux. You agree, or I'm leaving tonight."

Sophie hesitated, radiating tension from every line in her back, then flipped him a business card and said, "Fine. Meet me at this hotel bar tomorrow. 8. Sharp."

"I'll be there," he said and tipped an imaginary hat as she walked out. Nate followed her a moment after, never glancing into the bar interior.

Hardison, because he was an enormous geek hit something on his keyboard that made fireworks go off across the screen. "Victory is ours!" He spun his chair in a circle and stretched his arms over his head in something about like a touchdown celebration, but also a bit like an office-worker's stretch, palms turned up to the ceiling. His sweater pulled down a little and showed his wrists.

"Eliot, go give Mr. Fish his scare," said Nate, catching his attention back.

That was Eliot's cue, so he swung around to Fish's hotel, and lurked. "Not too obvious, Eliot," said Nate in his ear.

"I was running the Liverpool Loom when you were still tracking down stolen bicycles," Eliot growled, but Nate actually laughed at him.

"Not unless you were an incredibly menacing toddler."

Fish hadn't spotted him yet, so Eliot unfolded a newspaper and installed himself at the cafe across the street. "If he doesn't see me by the time this place closes, I'm going to heave a brick through his window."

"Patience, Mr. Spencer. Is that today's edition? Let me know if you figure out eighteen across."

Nate probably solved the crosswords when they were typeset the morning before, but the crossword did provide ten minute's amusement until Hardison came on-line and said, "I got a program that can solve that doing Bayesian regression of the writer's last two-hundred puzzles and a dictionary," and then he occupied himself arguing with Hardison over whether or not Google was going to come alive one day and enslave them all.

"I've seen their algorithms," Hardison was saying, "They can find out what kind of toothpaste you-- wait, he's just opened his room, he might be going down to the lobby."

Eliot picked up his newspaper and slouched a little behind it.

"Yep, the desk is calling him a cab."

"And you think Google is creepy," Eliot muttered.

"Are you trying to hurt my feelings?" said Hardison, managing to sound curious without sounding in any way sincere.

Eliot folded his paper and put his phone up to his ear as the bellhop held the door for Fish, and by the way Fish gave a slight jerk before he got in, he was pretty sure he'd been seen. "All right, there better be some beer left," Eliot said, folding up his phone as soon as Fish's cab rounded the block. Now Fish knew he had a stalker, and Sophie had a stalker, and if he couldn't come up with a brilliant plan from that, well, hopefully Nate would be open to Eliot's suggestions involving barmats.

* * *

It was part of the plan that Parker kept staying with Eliot, so if Fish did any checking, they'd look like partners. Parker agreed to it as long as she could take her cats, and no one bothered to ask Eliot what he thought.

So he walked in to the totally terrifying sight of Parker in the middle of his living room floor cooing over the cats and assuring them that their daddy-Hardison would be able to visit soon.

"If you spoil them, they won't be an effective ninja crime squad," he pointed out.

Parker looked at him. "They're little and they deserve nice things," she said, and he shied away from that to go and get a beer.

Sitting on his kitchen table was a computer that looked like the electronic equivalent of a Navy Seal fixed-blade commando knife, all black surfaces and clean lines with an air of ruthless efficiency. It had a big red bow stuck to the monitor.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's your present from Hardison," Parker said, popping up on his right from god knew where, Benjamin riding on her shoulder.

"I don't even... what am I gonna do with this?"

His phone rang.

"Play chess," Hardison said. "And do crosswords. And I'm gonna get you into WoW man, you watch me, I'm relentless."


"You are welcome."

Eliot gave in. "Thank you," he said, because he was holding out hope that Parker could learn from example when it came to manners.

"Thank you," Hardison said, and hung up before Eliot could protest he hadn't done anything to be thanked for.

Eliot downed half the beer and watched Parker throw sparkly things for the cats to chase, occasionally bending herself in distracting ways to retrieve the toys. The hollow of her throat was too appealing. There ought to be a law, except she'd break it.

"I'm going to bed," he said at last, pointedly.

"It's only ten."

"I'm tired."

"Whatever," Parker said, and gathered the cats, storming into his bedroom - his bedroom, which he still wasn't allowed to use! - without so much as a good night. She wasn't even human.

Eliot dreamt of the hollow of her throat, and the press of her lips on his, and woke aching into the new day, desperate to hurt someone. He had a crick in his neck and, on top of that, had to bear Parker eating her breakfast. Which was a mustard sandwich.

"I have stuff you could have put on that," he protested, trying not to watch her chew happily on the bread.

"I like my sandwiches."

Even though he ate it with his back to her, Eliot's fig and prosciutto tartine was pretty much ruined.

Afterwards, they went out to get Hardison the footage he wanted, slightly handicapped by Parker's unwillingness to be separated from her cats.

"It won't be a problem, I'll carry them in my jacket," she told him, and stuffed the cats inside her windbreaker. While they certainly all fit, they would occasionally writhe visibly under its surface, making her look like she was host to some kind of alien parasite, and when they settled down, she looked vaguely pregnant, which was almost as disturbing. Eliot found he couldn't quite look at her full on; he tried to look like inserting his earpiece required his total attention while they rode the elevator down to the lobby.

"Eliot, checking in," he said before the elevator door opened, so as to avoid talking to himself in front of the doorman. His opinion of Eliot was already going to take a blow when he saw him escorting a pregnant woman out the door in the morning.

He hadn't seen Parker put her earpiece in, but she said, "Hardison, what's our itinerary?" and Hardison answered:

"You're going to be casing a courier service, Hensen Direct. Don't take more than an hour, but I want some nice CCTV footage of you opening and closing doors. I'll give you directions once you're inside."

Parker had no particular difficulty getting into the Hensen offices, but before she popped the lock on the service entrance, she suddenly fished into her jacket and handed Eliot a kitten. "Here, she's a bit energetic this morning."

Eliot looked at the kitten nonplussed. The kitten looked back at him, or, from the way her eyes were focusing, a point about three feet behind him. Eliot checked over his shoulder, just in case, but the alleyway was empty.

He had planned to wait for Parker across the street, browsing through the magazine stand where he could keep one eye on the alleyway entrance to make sure no one else entered it before Parker came out, but he wasn't sure how the cat fit into that plan. "Are you going to be a problem?" he asked it.

"Me?" asked Hardison. "Why would I be-- you got something you want to confess?"

Eliot's heart thumped against his ribcage like a two-handed punch. "Jesus! No, I mean-- I was talking to the cat." He stared at the cat, as if she was Hardison, suspicious and watching over his shoulder. She shrugged in his grip like she wanted out, but he wasn't going to put her down so she could run off.

"They're good listeners," said Hardison, as if Eliot hadn't just admitted-- Eliot remembered that he hadn't admitted to anything, and for lack of a better option, stuck the kitten down his jacket so he could go browse magazines. Maybe he'd look like he had a beer gut.

They didn't have the New York Times, but there was a cuisine magazine that had some interesting things to say about beef marinades. Eliot was thinking about acidity levels and keeping half an eye on the alley, when the female voice spoke from behind him.

"Oh my god," she cooed, and Eliot looked down to see the grey head poking out of his zip. "That is so cute!"

Eliot did a quick assessment. Actress-slash-model-slash-waitress, tight pink T-shirt, silver glitter picture of a pony.

No. Well, maybe... no.

"I just love animals!" she said. "What's his name?"


"Awwww, look at little Susan." She poked her finger at the kitten's face, which Susan, predictably, took offense to. It wasn't a bad swipe, but her balance was off, so the claws missed the intrusive, red-enamelled finger. "Cats just love me! She's so cute!"

"What's going on?" Parker said.

"Some girl's flirting with Eliot," Hardison replied, in between bursts of offensive and highly inappropriate laughter.

"Do you want to have sex with her, Eliot?"

"No!" Eliot said, then had to convert it to, "No, she's not that cute. She's kind of a... you know, a little rascal." He hoisted Susan out and rearranged her on his arm.

The woman squealed and held a hand to her heart. "Oh, you have a southern accent! That's so cute! Are you from Texas? I bet you're from Texas!"

"Are you sure?" Parker persisted.

Eliot choked, caught between correcting the woman's stupid and downright insulting misapprehension - Kentucky was nothing like Texas - and getting out of the conversation before Parker showed up and tried to be his wingman.

"Got all the footage I need," Hardison said.

"Because if you want to have sex with her I want to get Susan back first."

Eliot smiled weakly. "Well, uh, there's my...uh, Parker." He nodded at the alley, where Parker was emerging, did a twist-shuffle, and fled.

"Man, you are so smooth," Hardison said.

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying, brother, you ever need some tips, I am there, okay?"

"Shut up."

"Alec Hardison: Love Doctor."

"Hardison, you're gonna need a doctor," Eliot growled, and met Parker at the van.

"Didn't you think she was sexually attractive?" Parker wondered, and Eliot was forced to beat his head against the steering wheel a couple times.

But other than that, the operation was a success.

* * *

There was no reason for them to go back to the office and listen in on Sophie's appointment with Fish, but Parker wanted to, and Eliot was kind of being her bodyguard right then. Well, no one had said so, but he was, right? For appearances, if nothing else. So they swung back around to his apartment to get the cats' crate, since Parker had developed some kind of hopefully-temporary cat-separation anxiety, and got back to the office with a quarter of an hour to spare before Sophie's appointment.

"Sorry about the video," apologized Hardison. "All I got in there is the security cam up behind the cash, and you're better off not watching it, seriously, it's got, like, two frames per second, you don't even want to see it, it's too brutal."

Eliot followed Parker's example and ignored him until he started talking in English. "Where's Nate?"

"Said he was working out some details, and left humming. Did you know he's tone-deaf? Because I don't think he knows."

"I knew," said Parker. "He can't tell an E flat from an F sharp."

There was something about Parker that always made Eliot check the reaction of those around him: just to make sure she was really as bizarre as she seemed on first impression. But no, Hardison was looking at her with pretty much the expression he knew was on his own face.

Parker noticed their expectant silence and looked up from where she was amusing (or possibly annoying, hard to say) Benjamin, and expanded. "Once, when he was trying to stop me from taking something from the Antiquities Museum in Cairo, he set off the fire alarm to try to make me think I'd hit a security alarm. Hee!" She snickered happily at this memory before noticing that neither of them seemed to be getting the joke. "Because, see, the fire alarm was an F sharp, so that was just ridiculous."

"Right," said Eliot, because there didn't seem to be anything else to say.

"I'm going in," said Sophie's voice, and Hardison swung his chair back around so he was facing his tentacled monster computer.

"Reading you loud and clear, Sophie."

"I can't go ahead," Fish said, jerky and grey in the video footage. Eliot smirked, and worked the kinks out of his right hand.

Sophie's voice was glacial. "We had a deal, Mr. Fish."

"I know. I'm sorry. That's why I'm keeping this meeting. But something's come up and I've got to-"

"Mr. Fish," Sophie said. "I think you know that I am someone with a reputation in our... society. You have a reputation too. As a smart businessman. Who keeps his promises. If I were to make it known that this reputation was, shall we say, undeserved-"

"Is he sweating?" Parker asked. "If he's sweating the threat is working."

Fish wiped at his forehead. "You don't understand. I'm- I had business with a top-storey woman who owed me a favour, and it turns out she's shacked up with Eliot Spencer."

"Oh," said Sophie.

"Yes, oh. Did you know he once disabled a US Marine with a paperclip?"

Eliot sat up straight. "What did he say?"

Hardison waved him off. "It don't matter-"

"I've never disabled a US Marine with anything!"

"I'm trying to-"

"He was from Beli Orlovi, and it was a key ring."

"Shut up," Parker said, and flicked the back of his head, really hard.

"It's the principle," he muttered, and settled back into his chair, scritching under Grover's chin. "Semper Fi."

"-disappointing," Sophie was saying. "With Ford on me and Spencer and his partner on you. It's a shame we can't sic them on each other."

"Guy does not take a hint," Hardison observed.

"Just a minute," Fish said, with sudden glee. "Hmm. Yeah. Maybe we can."

And that was it. Eliot was not going to get a chance to smear this guy's face over the pavement, and he was just going to have to live with it. Sophie let Fish spin out the plan, only steering him when she had to, such as on the subject of a hacker she knew who owed her a favour and would work without questions. By the time she was done, Fish was so puffed up with his own brilliance that Eliot half expected him to explode. But it wasn't like he ever got that lucky.

"Time to break out the brew and catnip," said Hardison, grinning like a loon. A little early, but Fish was on the line, and Sophie was rock solid, there was no reason, except a certain learned cynicism, that it couldn't be down-hill from here.

"I don't--" said Parker, frowning, and Eliot remembered she didn't like beer.

"Maybe not catnip," said Hardison, "no reason to get them started on the hard stuff." He bounced out of his seat and went off humming, possibly to demonstrate that he could tell the difference between E-flat and F-sharp.

"Are you sure you didn't want to have sex with that woman?" Parker asked.

Eliot jerked, which Grover protested by flexing tiny daggers into his thigh. "No! Why do you keep asking?"

She shot him a look under her bangs. "I was curious. I can be curious. Grover likes you."

Grover slitted open one eye and gave Eliot a look that he'd once seen, scaled up, on a leopard in Zambesi. The leopard had decided against disembowelling him, so maybe Parker was right.

Parker wasn't saying anything and he wasn't saying anything and Eliot wasn't sure when silence with Parker had stopped being a welcome relief and started being a terrible opportunity to think about kissing her again. Hardison was just down the hall. He couldn't do this, he could not.

"Hey-" Parker said, leaning over her crossed legs.

Eliot stood up. "I gotta go," he said, and exchanged Grover for a beer as Hardison came back in. "You don't need me, right? I'm gonna- go."

He didn't move fast enough, and he'd left the door open. "What's with that?" he heard Hardison say. "Is he sore about the computer? I thought it was a nice gesture. You know?"

"There's something wrong with him," Parker diagnosed, as he stabbed the elevator button.

The worst thing was, she was right.

Part 3 here.


( 18 comments — Leave a comment )
Mar. 7th, 2009 07:34 am (UTC)
I LOVE this fic so much! It constantly keeps me laughing and I love the little triangle you've got going on. Keep up the good work!
Mar. 8th, 2009 08:39 am (UTC)
I'm glad you like it!
Mar. 7th, 2009 08:23 am (UTC)
Hee! Another great part. I'm looking forward to seeing how this all ends.
Mar. 8th, 2009 08:39 am (UTC)
So are we.

Oh, good!
Mar. 7th, 2009 08:49 am (UTC)
Can't wait for the next part... I really want to know how this turns out. :)

Thanks for sharing!

Edited at 2009-03-07 08:50 am (UTC)
Mar. 8th, 2009 08:39 am (UTC)
Thanks for the feedback!
Mar. 7th, 2009 02:42 pm (UTC)
And here it is...I spent most of yesterday refreshing my computer to see if you'd posted it and then gave up and missed it til today, d'oh! Very much enjoying :-)

(PS - Is E# and Fb some kind of musician in-joke...?)
Mar. 8th, 2009 08:40 am (UTC)
We keep different time in the Antipodes!

(And I'm not sure - that was Betty's bit of genius, so if there was a joke I totally missed it)
Mar. 7th, 2009 05:09 pm (UTC)
sorry, don't have a leverage icon yet . . .
I left a comment over on brown_betty's journal . . . it was basically quoting and squeaking, but the gist is that this is awesome. Thanks to both of you!!!

(and Hi!)
Mar. 8th, 2009 08:47 am (UTC)
Bah, neither do I.

(And thank you!)
(Deleted comment)
Mar. 8th, 2009 08:48 am (UTC)
I'm glad you like it; he's so much fun to write!
Mar. 8th, 2009 03:40 pm (UTC)
Poor Eliot. I can't wait for the next installment, to see what other knots he twists himself into. This is such a well done story. The only thing I noticed is a couple of mistakes that a beta probably would have caught for you. Here's one:

Eliot resisted his nagging urge to ask Eliot if he was sure Fish was going to be there

Unless Eliot is talking to himself, that second Eliot should have been someone else. ;-)
Mar. 8th, 2009 04:30 pm (UTC)
Ah, thank you! We do have a beta - the fabulous skywardprodigal - who fixed untold glaring errors. We definitely shan't be holding her accountable for the few that remain and slipped through!
Mar. 10th, 2009 01:54 pm (UTC)
Oops. I should have read that in the intro. My bad. :-\
Mar. 10th, 2009 06:43 am (UTC)

Mar. 10th, 2009 12:01 pm (UTC)
Still really, really awesome story. I don't know WoW, but the thought of Hardison getting Eliot hooked on online RPGs is wonderful. They could open their own littel group or guild or whatever and take over the game. Also Eliot is holding up surprisingly well under the threat of Parker managing his love life.
Aug. 20th, 2009 02:00 pm (UTC)
( 18 comments — Leave a comment )