75 Godiva Street, Monday Afternoon

[geniuswithasmartphone]

Another weird weekend and Hardison wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. Being a teen seemed a lot more fraught than being a little kid and that wasn't even taking getting beaten up by a tiny version of his boyfriend into account.

But that wasn't the main issue on his mind right now. Hardison was looking at the howling wasteland that was their kitchen and shaking his head. Tiny!Parker had kindly left some of his sodas behind during her burglary spree, but not much else.

"How'm I supposed to get breakfast?" Hardison asked Val, who was sitting by his feet. "No bowls, no fridge--I'm pretty sure she even stripped the countertops!"

Hopefully she hadn't gotten very far with their belongings, or Eliot was going to have to remodel their kitchen. Again.

[Open! Will pickup pings when I'm conscious again.]

Comments

[vdistinctive]

Eliot had spent the weekend hiding out on the preserve, which was thankfully much less crowded than the damn beach around here. On Saturday, that was because he was a broody, emotional mess who couldn't be trusted around people. On Sunday -- it was because he was a broody, emotional mess who couldn't be trusted around people and old enough to know better. But as tempting as it was to just hide out as a hermit for the foreseeable future, he knew he had to face the music eventually. So he headed home.

Plus, he really needed to wash his hair.

He stopped dead in the doorway when he saw Hardison in the kitchen. What was left of the kitchen. Maybe he could claim that he was freezing up because of Parker's thoroughness. Hardison wouldn't believe it for a moment, but he could try. . . .

[whoisalicewhite]

Parker was looking just a little sheepish. Because while she was proud of her teenage self, she kind of thought the guys would be... less than pleased right now.

"Take out for breakfast?"