RP: Parker Hardison Who: Parker and Hardison. Where: Hardison's bedroom. When: Early Wednesday the 30th of November. Summary: Parker and labels and pretzels, OH MY.
Hardison was used to sleeping late, staying up late playing games, drinking a little soda and then sleeping until when ever he felt like it, or when ever a job called for him to be awake. So getting up early every day really didn't suit him. But it wasn't so much optional as suck it up and get on with it. It was lucky he was fitter now than he had been when he'd first got together with the team, or he'd probably have fallen over sideways on his first day.
Although he wasn't a battle hardened agent there were still a few things that could wake him. The smell of pancakes. Maybe a lovely lady waking up beside him. Or, as it was at this godforsaken hour, scratching his nose and realizing Parker had put a label on it. But at least he'd caught her in the act.
"Woman are you out of your bloody mind!" He groaned, catching her wrist in his hand. "I should shoot you. I should shoot you right here," Hardison said as he slowly sat up. "What are you doing?" he asked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to being open and his brain to adjust to functioning.