A/N: This is a random drabble. Written in the middle of a multichapter fic that I'm not sure I'll ever publish. Anyway, short and sweet. Hope you enjoy.

Hardison's dart flew straight into the bulls-eye. Once, twice, then a third time. Eliot watched him from the bar. He was good, Eliot thought, but he needed to be fucked with a little bit.

"Any school girl can do it with their eye on the target," he drawled, walking over to the board to collect the darts. "The greats? They don't have to look." Never taking his eyes of Hardison, he fired one, then two, then three darts directly into the bulls-eye. He counted it as a personal achievement that he'd accomplished this even with the stupid flutter that the younger man seemed to always cause in his stomach.

Hardison rolled his eyes. "You're a damn showoff, you know that? Nobody likes a showoff." He mumbled. Eliot just grinned. "Not true," he responded, "everyone likes me." And he tossed his hair a little bit for effect.

Finding it hard to hold the other man's gaze, Hardison went to go collect the darts from the board. Handing them back to Eliot, he said, "How'd you do that?" The hitter laughed.

"It's all about confidence. You've seen the target a million times. You know where it is. Just throw the dart as if you know where the target is." Never breaking eye contact, he threw a dart. Bulls-eye. The hitter raised an eyebrow. The hacker swallowed hard.

Suddenly, there was a dart in his hand. "Your turn," Eliot murmured.

Out of habit, Hardison turned towards the dart board, only to be stopped by a firm hand pulling him back. "No, no, no, no, no," the hitter chuckled, "eyes here." He never took his hand off Hardison's face.

The dart was thrown, but the men's mouths were connected before it even found it's target.

Bulls eye.