After the whole craziness with Moreau, Eliot was happier than ever to be home. The flight back to Boston was uneventful (Thank God), though it was amusing to watch Nate and Sophie try to pretend like they hadn't been up to something naughty the night before.
Yeah, like he hadn't noticed her dress hanging over the back of the couch. He simply had chosen to ignore it, preferring not to know anything more about what those two did during their alone time. It was much better for his sanity that way.
When they'd made Boston their base of operations, Eliot had looked for a place to claim as his own. He'd purchased a closed mill on the Neponset River, in the aptly named Lower Mills district of Dorchester. He liked the sturdy, brick buildings and had been renovating the insides during his free time. He had a massive greenhouse on the property and the old loading docks he'd converted into a garage for his trucks and motorcycles.
His living quarters were clean and airy, with wood floors salvaged from old constructions and exposed beams to add the odd mix of industrial and rustic charm that he had imbued the place with.
Entering the bedroom and shedding his shirt as he toed off his boots and socks, he allowed himself to collapse on the large bed, letting his body sink into the soft, down comforters. It had been a long few months and he considered indulging and sleeping more than his usual 90 minutes…hell, he more than considered it. He was just going to sleep for as long as his body wanted to sleep.
Shifting around, he opened his eyes and proceeded to jump about 5 inches off of the bed, an impressive feat considering his prone position.
"What the hell, Parker?" he barked indignantly, as the sight of the little blond thief perched on one of the exposed beams above his bed had been the cause of his sudden jolt.
She gave him a little wave before tumbling off of the beam, executing a neat back flip and landing in a crouch beside the bed. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Eliot was a little startled when she clambered up to kneel on the bed beside him.
"Your security system's pretty good," she informed him, then got one of her odd little smiles. "Anyone but me would have had a heck of a time getting in here."
Resigning himself to the knowledge that Parker could get in and out of pretty much anywhere, Eliot flopped back onto his back and closed his eyes. Maybe when he opened them, she'd be gone.
Instead, he felt her shifting around, clearly making herself comfortable. Cracking an eye, he saw that she had stretched out on her side, a few inches away from him. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked, hoping she didn't want him to make her pancakes or some other random food product. Normally, he wouldn't mind, but right now all he wanted to do was sleep.
She made a face, the face that said she was trying to figure out how to put some odd thought into words. "The Moreau thing," she began and his spine tensed. Quickly, she added, "I'm not asking you to tell me! I just…you looked so sad that day, thinking about whatever it was and I just wanted to tell you Sophie is right. You're not that guy. You're the you you are now and that you is a good you."
Parker logic. Eliot wondered what it said about him that he could now follow her trains of thought without any real effort at all. In her own way, she was trying to make him feel better.
"Thank you, Parker." It was really the only reply to her little speech.
Face breaking out into a grin, she draped one of her long, lithe arms across his chest and hugged him fiercely, cuddling close as she did so. A little maneuvering let him wrap an arm around her and return the squeeze gently.
When she didn't seem inclined to move, he realized she was planning on staying. Heaving a mental shrug, he pulled the loose ends of the comforter up and over them and closed his eyes.
After a few minutes of silence, Parker spoke. "Eliot?"
"Will you make pancakes in the morning?"
Comments, pretty please?