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“I don’t know about you guys,” Hardison yawned as he shut his laptop, “but I’m ready to bug out of here for the evening.”
Eliot, sitting at the other end of the breakfast bar, drained the last of his beer. “Yeah, me too,” he said after a beat. “Plus, it’s almost eight, and I told Cora I’d help her close tonight.”
Nate continued to review the blueprints that were spread across his table. “You’re going downstairs to help Cora 'close' tonight?” he asked pointedly.
Eliot rolled his eyes. “Look, man. She’s short-staffed, alright?”
Hardison moved to exit the kitchen. “Cora’s been ‘short-staffed’ three times this week, bro. For someone with your elite skillset, you ain't hiding your intentions very well.”
He sidestepped the hitter’s attempt to kick him in the shin.
“Eliot,” Nate muttered sternly as he uncapped a highlighter with his teeth, “for your sake, I sure hope the only thing you’re doing at McRory’s is the dishes. Otherwise, our next job is going to be your funeral.”
The two younger men exchanged nervous glances.
“So,” Hardison pivoted loudly, “how are those new hire orientation videos coming along, Parker?”
There was no response from the living room.
“Parker?”
He walked over to the couch, where the thief had been wading through module after module as part of her cover, only to find her fast asleep.
“Hot damn,” he mused. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen homegirl take a nap, let alone close her eyes."
Eliot was by his side within seconds. “Parker fell asleep? No way.”
He looked down at the slumbering thief – one arm dangling off the side of the couch, the other clutching a tablet – and pulled out his phone. “We gotta send this to Soph.”
“Good idea,” Hardison nodded. “Otherwise, she’ll never believe us.”
Nate stepped into the living room shortly after the two snapped a selfie with Parker in the background. “Who are you texting?” he asked, looking over Eliot’s shoulder.
“Tara,” Eliot lied, pocketing his device.
Nate continued to eye him skeptically. “Well,” he said, turning his attention toward Parker, “this would explain why she’s been so quiet over the past hour.”
The trio hovered awkwardly around the couch for a long minute, unsure of how to proceed.
“You want us to take her home?” Eliot finally asked. “I can carry her to my truck, and Hardison has her address. It’s some place on Central Square.”
Nate considered the offer. “No. It’s okay. She can just…” he trailed off as a tiny snore escaped Parker’s mouth. “She can just stay here for the night, I guess.”
Hardison feigned surprise. “Really? Last week, you threw a fit when I stayed late on Saturday. Now you’re gonna let Sleeping Beauty crash on your couch all night?” He shouldered his laptop bag. “Whatever happened to ‘Mr. I Want My Privacy Back?’”
Eliot, visibly amused, pulled the hacker toward the door. “Make sure you get her a damn blanket,” he instructed, looking directly at Nate. “And don’t let her skip breakfast. You remember last Tuesday, when she forgot, right? She was squirrelly as hell.”
Nate waved the pair out of his apartment. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now get out of here, before I change my mind. And stay away from Cora.”
***
Something hitched in Nate’s chest the moment he covered Parker with a wool Afghan. How long had it been since he’d last tucked Sam into bed? Three years? He stopped himself from calculating the exact number of months and days.
A similar thought crossed his mind as he gently lifted Parker’s free arm and folded it across her chest. When was the last time her parents had tucked her in? When she was eight? Five? Two?
He lingered a moment longer than necessary, simply watching her rest, before quietly retreating to the kitchen. There, he refilled his mug with a mix of dark roast and Irish cream and returned to work.
Some time later, Parker made a low, contented sound as she rolled over and snuggled deeper into the couch.
Nate shook his head—leave it to a feral twenty-something to con him into feeling like a parent again, if only for one night.