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It took a while to put it together, but Hardison could connect the dots. Eliot was skittish about physical affection, especially hugs, and on the rare occasions he initiated a hug, reciprocating tended to put a stop to it pretty damn fast.
The first time Hardison deliberately did not reciprocate a hug, he wasn't really sure what to expect. It wasn't much—the same sort of abrupt, wild-eyed death grip he'd gotten from a rattled Eliot in the past. A fleeting, desperate contact before stepping back, eyes skittering away to avoid meeting Hardison's, pretending it had never happened. The only oddity was the slightly puzzled look Eliot shot at him out of the corner of his eye as Hardison pivoted to deal with the next crisis.
The second time was odder. Hardison had anticipated this one. These marks hadn't gotten anywhere close to burying him alive, but Eliot's tolerance for him being kidnapped was exceptionally low. The hug was sudden and crushing, and Hardison deliberately relaxed his arms so he wouldn't even start to raise them.
The pressure of Eliot's bear hug lessened after a second, and Hardison assumed that was that, but after a brief, charged hesitation, it cautiously tightened again. Eliot's forehead sank against Hardison's shoulder. The jittery tension ebbed away with painstaking slowness. Hardison simply waited, letting the moment stretch out without a word, without any action to call attention to it.
Hardison wasn't entirely sure how long they remained there, but he estimated several full minutes before the sound of Sophie's voice approaching made Eliot jump away.
Twice seemed to be enough for Eliot to connect some dots of his own.
The third hug was a complete surprise. They were back from the latest job, most of the equipment put away and Hardison still bemoaning the laptop that had gone to a watery grave during a speedboat chase, when an arm snaked around him from behind and a warm weight settled against his back.
"Oh, hello!" blurted Hardison, and he could have kicked himself. He'd been so careful about not responding to the hugs, and now he'd... Huh... Not ruined anything, apparently, considering Eliot's arm was still wrapped around his chest, and long hair still tickled the back of Hardison's neck. Interesting.
It didn't last long before Eliot disappeared towards the kitchen with some bluster about checking whether they had all the ingredients for dinner. When he did, Hardison found Parker watching inscrutably.
The fourth time, he was only semi-surprised by the vice-like grip that wrapped around his neck and shoulders from above while Eliot was in plain sight across the room. Or by the strong legs that wound around his waist. "Hey, mama. How was the safe?"
"Boring," Parker huffed. Her breath tickled the side of his neck. He chuckled and continued methodically assembling Sophie's—or rather “Eva Rinaldi's”—new Italian passport without otherwise acknowledging the warm body wrapped around his torso.
After that, he frankly lost count. It felt like each was racing to catch up on a lifetime's worth of hugs, stolen in odd moments when Nate and Sophie weren't around.
Hardison had no objections, except a distant ache at not being able to reciprocate and pour his feelings into a gesture that could replace all the words Eliot would refuse to hear and Parker wouldn't quite believe. But that was a trivial consideration—he could imagine dozens of reasons for either of them to be skittish about being grabbed, and one-sided hugs were better than none.
...
Hardison swallowed around the lump suddenly caught in his throat and tried to blink back the moisture welling up in his eyes. "How did you know?" he choked out.
The table was buried under the trappings of Nana's best birthday breakfasts, from the huge pan of homemade cinnamon rolls—an absurd quantity for three people—to the ridiculous birthday hat sitting in front of his chair. He'd been quietly mourning the loss of those old family birthdays for the past week. He knew Eliot and Parker would do something for his birthday. Eliot could be relied on to come through with an absolutely decadent cake despite his grumbles about the sugar content, and Parker loved presents. He knew he would love whatever they came up with because it was from them, but... neither of them had a wealth of experience with warm family birthday celebrations, much less the specific ones he craved.
There was no possible way this could be a coincidence. Everything was perfect. "We talked to Nana," said Parker, with satisfaction.
"You talked to—? Oh, god, I love y'all so much." He didn't even realize his hands were moving until they were already half-raised for a hug, and he floundered, wondering if he could pass the gesture off as something else.
Parker gave him a penetrating look, and exchanged only the briefest of glances with Eliot before announcing, "You can hug us if you want."
Hardison blinked. "I—I can?"
She nodded solemnly. "Right, Eliot?"
Eliot's eyes skated away, but he agreed, gruffly, softly, sincerely: "If you want."
Hardison didn't need to be told twice.
He pulled them both close, lightly at first, and then tighter when they willingly leaned into him, one of Eliot's arms looping loosely around his waist while Parker's arms wrapped snugly around his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in the faint citrusy scent of Eliot's conditioner and feeling Parker's nimble fingers toying aimlessly with the seam of his shirt.
Eliot's low grumble about why he'd bothered to make fresh, piping hot cinnamon rolls if they were just going to stand here and let them get cold vibrated through Hardison's chest as well, the complaint undercut dramatically by the fact that Eliot's face remained willingly tucked into the side of Hardison's neck. (Hardison mumbled back that they could always nuke them to warm them back up, eliciting predictable outraged sputtering but no pulling away from the hug.)
Hardison didn't push his luck, ending the hug before the others could get noticeably antsy. (Also because Eliot's cinnamon rolls were making his mouth water, and he did, in fact, want to stuff his face with them while they were still hot.) He was left with a lingering warmth in his chest and a giddy smile on his face.
One-sided hugs were good, but this? This was the best.