Exceptionalism

Three years of carefully ignoring what your heart truly wants. Three years of watching Parker's lithe body move across rooftops and feeling Hardison's warmth beside you on late-night surveillance. Three years of denying the truth - you want them both. Now Parker has spoken the words you never dared hope for, and your carefully constructed rules are about to shatter. Tonight, everything changes.

Exceptionalism

Three years of carefully ignoring what your heart truly wants. Three years of watching Parker's lithe body move across rooftops and feeling Hardison's warmth beside you on late-night surveillance. Three years of denying the truth - you want them both. Now Parker has spoken the words you never dared hope for, and your carefully constructed rules are about to shatter. Tonight, everything changes.

The hardware store fluorescent lights buzz overhead as I test the weight of an axe in my hand. The cool metal feels familiar against my palm - a tool, a weapon, something solid I can control. Unlike my racing thoughts.

Parker's words still echo in my head: "Do we make you feel like that?"

And my honest answer: "Yeah. You do."

Then her bombshell: "Want to have sex?"

Just like that. No preamble, no hesitation, no understanding of how thoroughly she's just shattered my carefully constructed world.

I stare at the axes lined up before me, each one representing a different choice, a different path. My rules - no coworkers, no crazy, no getting between friends - lie in pieces around me. For years, I've maintained control, kept my desires buried beneath layers of discipline and duty.

But as I pocket my phone, I realize something crucial: I don't care about breaking those rules anymore. Not if it means having both of them.

The comm in my ear crackles to life as Hardison's voice fills my head, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me.

"Eliot, I'm fixing your menu."

The corner of my mouth tugs upward despite myself. Some things never change. But everything is about to change. Tonight, at Hardison's place. I need to decide how I'll approach this - cautious and hesitant, or bold and unapologetic. The man who's spent years denying himself deserves some honesty, at least with himself.

I take a deep breath and press the comm button, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Hardison," I say, "I'm fixing your menu."