#also nysm poly magicians prompts. never written them before but my brain is leaking out of my ears like goo abt them rn so.

[grasslandgirl]

Five sentence fic prompt?

The knife in elliots hand slipped the slightest bit when he felt Parker’s arms wrap around his midsection.

five sentences? dont know how to do that. enjoy. (i have feelings about Parker and Eliot. and food.)

The knife in Eliot’s hand slipped the slightest bit when he felt Parker’s arms wrap around his midsection. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts- an unending spiral circling around everything that’d happened during the last con- that he hadn’t heard her shuffle through the kitchen until she was already almost pressed against him. Her arms were warm and familiar, though; solid and lean in a way that came from years of trusting nothing but her own body- Eliot recognized it in the way she moved, in the way she held herself in stillness when she thought no one else was watching. He recognized it in himself.

Parker tucked her face into his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck. Eliot readjust his grip on the knife. Dinner. He was making dinner. “Hungry.” She grumbled into his neck, the rumble of her voice traveling straight down his spine, into his gut.

Eliot nodded, careful not to jostle her. “Soon,” he growled, aiming for irritated and coming out fond. He felt her answering grin pressed against the side of his neck. She nudged the collar of his shirt just slightly out of the way with the tip of her nose, and pressed a feather-light kiss to the edge of his collarbone. Eliot pressed his lips against a smile and refocused on the leeks he was trying to chop. At this rate, dinner would be done by midnight- maybe, he realized, that was Parker’s plan.

“You gotta let me finish.”

She let go, finally, begrudgingly, and Eliot allowed himself the briefest moment of regret as her warmth left with her. He thought that she would shuffle back away- slump onto Hardison’s shoulders in his nerd cave, or climb up into the rafters or onto the roof until dinner was ready. But almost as soon as she let go, Eliot felt her bump her hip into his. Her fingers plucked at the knife in his hand, and when he looked up, Parker had the same glint in her eye she got when she was something shiny that she wanted.

“Show me.”

Eliot sighed, long suffering, but Parker's grin grew, and he knew she hadn’t missed the unspoken okay. The things this girl did to him. He handed her the knife, and rearranged her fingers correctly around the handle. And if he stepped a little closer into her space than absolutely necessary, Parker didn’t seem to have a problem with it. They made their way through the prep, working like the well oiled machine they were. There was always something in Eliot’s chest that sparked to life in moments like this; where the same synchronicity from the cons leached into their everyday lives. When there were little moments of perfect silent understanding. It made the suspicious, pacing animal in Eliot’s chest settle down a little bit.

“You showing our girl how to cook?” Hardison asked, later, wandering loudly in the kitchen. Parker was in the middle of trying to poke Eliot on the nose with a sauce-covered spoon, and didn’t stop except to shoot Hardison a conspiratorial grin.

Our girl. “Yeah,” Eliot said, having long since given up on hiding his smile as Parker finally managed to get through his defenses enough to smudge the spoon against his face. (They both knew he let her, but neither of them had to admit it.) “I am.”

send me one sentence of a fic and ill write you five (or more)!!