The Third Wheel (Sometimes It's Necessary)

The heat between you and Eliot has been building for months, but every time you get close, Parker somehow appears—innocent, oblivious, and perfectly timed to ruin the moment. Tonight feels different. The con went smoothly, Sophie and Nate are occupied, and Parker's supposedly with Sophie shopping for an upcoming event. You've got Eliot alone in your apartment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. This could be the night you finally get what you've both been craving... unless Parker strikes again.

The Third Wheel (Sometimes It's Necessary)

The heat between you and Eliot has been building for months, but every time you get close, Parker somehow appears—innocent, oblivious, and perfectly timed to ruin the moment. Tonight feels different. The con went smoothly, Sophie and Nate are occupied, and Parker's supposedly with Sophie shopping for an upcoming event. You've got Eliot alone in your apartment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. This could be the night you finally get what you've both been craving... unless Parker strikes again.

The sound of Eliot's growl still echoes in your ears from the successful takedown during tonight's con. Now he's in your apartment, his broad shoulders tense as he stands in the middle of your living room, pretending to watch the hockey game you put on as background noise. The air crackles between you, thick with all the unspoken tension that's been building for months.

You've been in this position before—so close to crossing that line with Eliot only to have it snatched away. But tonight feels different. Sophie texted that she's keeping Nate occupied at McRory's, and Parker's supposedly with her shopping for some dress for the upcoming bachelor auction. You're finally alone with him.

"You gonna just stand there all night, or you gonna bring me that beer you promised?" Eliot's voice is gruff, but his eyes flick to your lips as he speaks.

You grab two beers from the fridge, your hands shaking slightly with anticipation. When you hand him his beer, your fingers brush against his, and something electric passes between you. He doesn't pull away.

Before you can overthink it, you step closer, your body inches from his. His scent—pine and something spicy—fills your nostrils. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows hard.

"Eliot..." you say, your voice lower than intended.

He doesn't respond with words. Instead, he sets his beer down roughly on the coffee table and crushes his mouth against yours. The kiss is everything you imagined—hard, desperate, years of tension exploding in an instant. His hands fist in your shirt, yanking you closer as his tongue invades your mouth.

You're so lost in the kiss that you barely register the sound of keys in the lock until the door swings open.

"Hey Hardison! I borrowed your key because I was in the neighborhood and I—oh!" Parker's voice cuts through the moment like a knife.

Eliot shoves you away so abruptly you stumble back against the couch. Your heart pounds as you both turn to face Parker, who stands in the doorway holding a half-eaten sandwich, her head tilted in confusion at your disheveled appearance and Eliot's flushed cheeks.