scurvyknavery

Title: We Were Lovers (Now We're Not Even Friends)
Challenge: Written as part of

everysecondtuesday
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Pairing: Myka Bering/Helena "H.G." Wells
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3651
Summary: The first time H.G. kisses Myka, they're in Moscow.
Notes: Thank you to

thrace_ for the beta help, and

hjea for history and artifact support. Title excerpted from William Fitzsimmons' "You Still Hurt Me."

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction - all events and actions are completely made up. Absolutely nothing in this story should be taken as fact. I am not, nor do I claim to be, the owner of the rights to any of the characters in this work. This original work of fan fiction is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License; attribution should include a link to this Livejournal post.

The first time H.G. kisses Myka, they're in Moscow.

Artie's grateful to be alive, but even exhausted and recently tortured, he's stubborn as ever. "No offense," he says, clutching at his ribs, "But someone had better get her -" he nods at H.G., contemptuously. "Out of my sight, before I turn her in to the Regents."

H.G. smiles, weakly, and starts to stand. The effects of the driftwood are still lingering, and she looks half-frozen and just as worn out as Artie.

"Dude," Pete says. "She did just save your life."

"Exactly," Myka says. "If she hadn't been there -"

Artie shakes his head, fierce with as much determination as he can muster. "That's enough. No. This is not a discussion."

Myka sighs, swallowing down the surge of now-familiar frustration. "We can't just leave her here."

H.G.'s managed to get to her feet, but she's leaning heavily against a pillar, arms wrapped tight around herself. "I'll be fine," she says. "Really, it's alright."

Myka can see Pete's gaze slide from Artie to Helena and back again, and she fixes him with a stare. He rolls his eyes at her, Universal Pete for what am I supposed to do about it?. Myka cocks her head to the side, and he huffs. "Look, Artie. Why don't you and I go back to the hotel together, and Myka will make sure H.G. gets somewhere safe." Artie opens his mouth to speak, but Pete keeps talking right over him. "And then Myka will meet up with us, and we can all have a grand old time arguing about whether or not H.G. is evil incarnate, somewhere that's not a creepy Russian torture factory. Alright?"

Artie throws up one hand in exasperation. "Alright. Fine. Let's both just hope that Myka knows what she's doing."

Myka offers H.G an arm, and she takes it eagerly, letting Myka hold what feels like most of her weight. Every so often, she shivers, teeth chattering audibly, and on instinct Myka lets her hand go to the small of H.G.'s back, rubbing to warm her. "Artie," Myka starts but he and Pete are already halfway out the door. The disgusted look he casts in her direction - presumably at H.G. - hurts more than she'd like to think about.

"Come on," she says, to H.G. "Let's get you back to your hotel."

H.G. smiles and wraps an arm around Myka's waist for support. "Yes," she says, and her voice sounds so fragile, now that they're alone. "Let's do that."

It's a long, slow walk back to the street. Myka does her best to match H.G.'s pace, letting her lead the way. She gets stronger as they walk, and shivers less. By the time they reach the main road, H.G. can walk on her own, and the only sign of her recent near-death experience is the way that she wraps her coat around herself, a little more tightly than fits the weather. Myka hails a cab for them both, and, to Myka's astonishment, H.G. gives the driver directions in what sounds like near-perfect Russian.

Myka just stares.

"What?"

"You speak Russian?"

H.G. smiles, a bit smug. It's contagious, and Myka can't help but smile back. "Any other secrets I should know about?" Myka asks, teasing.

H.G. bumps her shoulder against Myka's, pressing close enough that Myka can smell her shampoo. "Maybe. You'll just have to find out," she says, suddenly flirtatious.

It makes Myka feel off balance and flustered. She's not sure how to respond, so she doesn't. Instead she blinks, once, then turns away to look out the window in silence, watching the city go by.

Helena looks much better by the time they arrive at her hotel, and when they pay the cab driver and leave, she insists on holding Myka's door for her. It's sweet, if a little old-fashioned, and Myka lets her, smiling thanks as she steps out of the cab. H.G.'s room is upstairs, and Myka lets her lead the way to the elevator.

"You know," H.G. says, as they wait. "You don't have to walk me all the way, if you don't want to. I think I'll make it from here."

It takes Myka a moment to realize that she's teasing. She smiles, a beat too late, and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Well," she says. "You are over a hundred. I'm not sure how much stress you can handle."

H.G. laughs, and as they step into the elevator, Myka can't quite keep from thinking about how beautiful it sounds. H.G. teases back, and by the time they make it to her floor, they're laughing together, like friends. It's only when they get to H.G.'s hotel room, that she suddenly grows serious again. "Anyway, thank you," she says, looking right into Myka's eyes. "It was good of you to accompany me."

"H.G.," Myka says. "Really, it's fine. It was no trouble at all."

"Helena," she replies, softly. "Call me Helena."

Myka nods, a smile working its way across her face. Helena smiles back, and gives Myka that flirtatious look again, the one that makes her flustered. Myka feels herself start to blush, and before she can turn away to make her excuses, there's a hand on her chin, then another at her shoulder.

Helena kisses her swiftly, mouth confident, like she knows Myka's been waiting for this all along. Myka doesn't know what to do, caught off guard like this, but she feels her body responding and she leans into Helena's arms, warm and inviting, on instinct. She hears herself sigh against Helena's mouth, as something warm and exhilarating blooms behind her chest, and it's all too much, too unexpected. She takes a step back, and Helena lets her.

"Um." Myka says. She feels breathless, and she knows that she'll sound it, but she forces herself to speak. "I'm not -"

"Oh," Helena says. She looks surprised. "I see."

"It's not that you're not attractive, it's just that I'm not -" Myka shakes her head, suddenly forgetting what she's not. "Interested."

"Of course," Helena says, but she doesn't look disappointed.

"Yeah," Myka says, dumbly. She hasn't felt like this since she was fifteen and doing Kurt Smoller's math homework, awkward and more than a little nervous.

Helena's not helping, either. She's still too close, standing in Myka's personal space with her shoulder braced against the door. Her jacket is hanging open now, and Myka's gaze keeps sliding down to the deep pink of her mouth, and the curve of her breasts beneath her shirt.

"Right," Helena says, lips curving into something between a smile and a pout.

Myka shakes her head, and takes another step away from the door. "Good night, Helena," she says, trying to sound decisive.

"Good night, Myka." Helena says, with a knowing smile. "I'll see you around."

She does.

*

The first time Myka kisses Helena, they're at Leena's.

Claudia and Pete are in Univille, having what Pete called, "a good, old-fashioned Lattimer night on the town." Myka's not sure she ever wants to know what that means, so she's opted to stay in, curled up in the wicker chair next to her bedroom window with a copy of The Invisible Man.

She doesn't get enough time to read for fun, these days, and having a whole evening to herself to discover a book feels like a luxury. She lets herself relax, losing herself in the story, and she's so focused that she doesn't hear the footsteps on the stairs, or the gentle knock on her bedroom door. It's not until she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder that Myka looks up at all, surprised. Her instincts take over, and she tenses, looking for a weapon. It's a moment before she realizes that the person beside her is Helena, carrying two gently steaming coffee mugs.

"Hey," she says, relaxing.

"Hello," Helena says, resting her hip against the side of Myka's chair. She's in for the evening as well, dressed down in loose-fitting pants and a t-shirt. Myka doesn't think she'll ever stop being fascinated by how different Helena seems, out of her usual clothes. When she's dressed like this, hair loose around her shoulders, she looks so much softer. It makes Myka think back to that one night in Moscow, and the feel of her arm around Helena's waist.

"What's up?" Myka says, closing her book.

"I thought I'd see if you wanted something to drink," Helena says, gesturing with one mug. "I made tea."

"Tea would be wonderful," Myka says.

She takes the proferred mug and brings it to her mouth, taking the smallest of sips but inhaling deeply. It's chamomile, her favourite, and her eyes flutter closed for one happy moment. "Mmm, chamomile. Thank you."

Helena sits gracefully on the ottoman in front of Myka, folding one knee underneath herself. "You're very welcome. The Invisible Man," she says, gesturing to Myka's book. "I remember that."

"Yeah," Myka says, self-consciously. "I just thought, since the author's living in my house, I might as well."

"Are you enjoying it?" Helena asks, an earnestness to her voice that Myka's never heard before.

Myka's tea is warm against her hand, and she sets it on the table beside her as she thinks. Helena watches her face while she does, expectant and interested. "Yeah," Myka says, and she can't help but stare at the way that Helena smiles in reply, proud and almost bashful. "It's a little dark, but still sort of beautiful."

Helena ducks her head, looking away for a moment. Myka's never seen her shy, before, and it feels like something precious. "Thank you," she says, softly.

Helena's knee bumps against Myka's, gently, and it gives her a little thrill of want. "You're welcome," Myka says.

Helena reaches out, and rests her hand on the book in Myka's lap. Their thumbs brush together, and Myka feels it again, that flutter of something she doesn't want to name, under her ribs. Suddenly, she finds herself noticing the inviting curve of Helena's mouth, and she wants it more than she'd realized. She leans close, hesitantly, and before she can give herself time to think she ducks her head forward and presses her lips to Helena's.

Helena is still against her, and they stay that way for a long moment, mouths pressed together while Myka's heart hammers behind her ribs. It's only when Helena starts to kiss back that Myka starts to breathe again, and she reaches up, fitting her hand beneath Helena's jaw to pull her closer. Then, as Helena's tongue laps against Myka's teeth, Myka realizes what she's doing - she's kissing H.G. Wells, who is her female colleague - and she pulls back, surprised.

"Oh," she says, resisting the urge to reach up and touch her own mouth. Helena's smile is hopeful, and all Myka can think about is how beautiful she is.

It's then, though, that reality comes rushing back, and she starts to think again. She's already gone down this road once before. "I'm sorry," Myka says, and she shakes her head, trying to clear it.

Helena cocks her head to the side. "Sorry for what?"

"We shouldn't," Myka says, stating the obvious.

Helena's hand takes Myka's forearm and she tugs, coaxing Myka towards her. "We shouldn't what?" Helena murmurs, voice low and full of intent that makes Myka shiver.

When she kisses Myka for the second time, it's even better than the first.

"Helena," she says, when they part, trying to sound stern despite her own breathlessness. Her voice is throaty with desire, and Helena kisses her again, soundly.

"We work together," Myka says, but it sounds like an excuse even to her own ears.

"We do." Helena's voice is tender, as she brushes her thumb across Myka's lower lip.

"This isn't a good idea."

"Alright, then," Helena says, and the flirtatious gleam in her eye is one that's quickly becoming familiar. "Go ahead and stop."

Myka sighs and rests her forehead against Helena's. Every logical, responsible part of her knows that this is a bad decision, but Helena's hand is warm and insistent on her arm, and all Myka wants to do is kiss her, again and again, and find out what she looks like underneath that t-shirt. She takes a breath, tangles her free hand in Helena's hair, and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

They don't stop.

*

The first time they have sex, they're in Canada, on a case with Pete.

There's an artifact in the capital making people think they're 19th-century settlers, and after a full day spent searching, bundled up against the impressive February cold, they're coming up empty handed. After following their fourth lead to its dead end, they decide to call it a day.

They've got rooms at a motel just outside of Ottawa. It's the three of them there, but Artie wasn't willing to spring for an extra room for Helena, so she and Myka share. The room is nice enough, but there's just one bed, and while the two of them are something - mostly stolen kisses at Leena's, and, one memorable time, in the warehouse stacks - they've certainly never shared a bed before.

But they're both tired, and they've both got to sleep somewhere, and sharing a bed with Pete is not an experience Myka wants to have anytime soon. So she settles in for the evening, laughing when Helena teases her, making small talk about the case. It's not until they get into bed that things change.

The bed is big enough for two, but it somehow shrinks when Helena climbs in next to Myka. She's suddenly acutely aware of her own body, and how near Helena really is. There's a big difference between the kisses they've shared in Helena's bedroom, over the covers, and sharing a bed like this. Helena shifts, her knee brushing against Myka's thigh, and that's all it takes before Myka is flustered, heart racing. "Good night," Helena says, dragging her knuckles down the length of Myka's arm.

"Good night," Myka whispers, smiling at her in the darkness.

Helena rolls over, back to Myka, and settles in to sleep while Myka lies silently, staring at the ceiling. She wants, desperately, to pull Helena close. She wants to wrap her arms around Helena's waist, and figure out the way that their bodies fit together. But she's a professional, and getting a good night's sleep is important, and having sex with a fellow agent while traveling on the job is irresponsible, at best.

Helena sighs, adjusting the blankets around herself. Myka's hands itch, but she does her best not to fidget, lying motionless and waiting as the minutes pass.

It's not long before Helena sighs again, and rolls over to face Myka. She props herself up on one elbow, and Myka stares as her hair falls forward to blanket her shoulders, dark and glossy in even in the dark. "You're not sleeping," she says, gently.

Myka looks away. "Not tired, I guess."

"Come here." Helena reaches out and puts an arm around Myka's shoulder, pressing until Myka shifts and closes the space between them.

They fit together front-to-front, and Helena is warm and soft against her. It's not long before Myka feels overheated, her heart thrumming behind her ribs in double-time. She's never, ever going to sleep this way. "Is this better?" Helena murmurs against the top of Myka's head.

Myka looks up, ready to agree, but before she can speak Helena's mouth is pressed to hers. She kisses slowly, deliberately, and Myka sighs into her, running her hands up the length of Helena's back. Lust throbs between her thighs, and she finds herself wanting to touch Helena, everywhere.

Helena's hands find the hem of Myka's shirt, and she twists it in her hands, hiking it up just enough to rest her palm against the bare skin of Myka's hip. "Tell me if I'm going too fast for you, darling," she says, tugging upwards. Her knuckles drag along Myka's back, raising goosebumps, and Helena's smile grows smug as Myka shudders.

"Definitely not," Myka says, shifting her weight so that Helena can tug her shirt completely off. "Keep going."

Helena's gaze dips down, clearly appreciative, and Myka feels herself blush. Then Helena touches, brushing her thumb across the underside of Myka's breast and then moving higher, just roughly enough to make Myka shudder. She clutches at the hem of Helena's shirt, then takes it off.

Helena, shirtless, is beautiful, and Myka can't help but stare. Helena chuckles, caressing Myka's cheek, and kisses her with intent, pulling her close. Myka can feel Helena against her, and there's something delicious in the unfamiliarity of her, in the press of breasts against her own and the way that Helena's body feels soft and yielding.

Myka traces the length of Helena's back with her palms, learning the shape of it and pulling her nearer. She cups Helena's ass, and Helena chuckles against her mouth, breathlessly. Myka dips her head to kiss Helena's throat, her breasts, and Helena tips her head back and groans, loudly. Myka's cunt feels liquid, and she hasn't wanted someone quite this badly in a long while.

Helena slips her fingertips beneath the waistband of Myka's underwear, running her nails along the skin at the small of Myka's back until Myka shudders, again. They undress together, Helena's hands at Myka's waistband and Myka tugging at Helena's pyjamas until they're both entirely naked, legs tangled together.

Helena touches first, tracing a path down Myka's side, across her thigh, then finally between her legs. One fingertip finds her clit, and it's been too long since someone touched her like this. The whimper that comes from Myka is barely a sound she recognizes as her own, and she buries her face in the crook of Helena's shoulder, half-undone. Helena caresses her, hands deft, and it's all Myka can do to pull her close, hands clumsy as she clutches at Helena's hips.

Somehow, their legs fit together just so, and Myka's thigh presses up against the heat between Helena's legs. Helena gasps, whimpers her name, and the sound sends a thrill of arousal straight to Myka's cunt, getting her wet all over again. Helena moves to slip two fingers inside Myka, and as she thrusts forward her cunt comes down against Myka's thigh, grinding insistently in a a slow, steady rhythm.

Myka comes fast against Helena's hand, digging her nails into Helena's back and gasping nonsense against her shoulder. She takes a moment, dazed and spent, as Helena rocks with her hips once, twice, and then finishes against Myka's thigh, all slick heat and shuddering moans.

"Wow," Myka huffs. She feels sated, drowsy in the afterglow, and she lets herself bask in it.

Helena wraps her arms around her, clumsily, as though she feels the same way. "Mmmhmm," she murmurs against the top of Myka's head, drowsily. "Are you tired, yet?"

Myka had honestly forgotten that they were supposed to be sleeping. It's a moment before she remembers: the artifact, getting a good night's sleep, and Pete in the next room over. She closes her eyes, briefly hoping that Pete's still a sound sleeper. "Yes," she says. "Exhausted."

Helena chuckles in reply. Myka turns in her arms, shifting until they're lying back-to-front, Helena's arm slung low across her waist. Their legs tangle together, and Myka falls asleep quickly.

*

The last time they kiss, before Helena betrays her, they're in Egypt.

It's before Warehouse Two, at the camp site. They're waiting for Pete to finish speaking with Kelly, and for Valda to disarm the entrance. Myka's never liked waiting for things when she could be helping, and the combination of waiting and not knowing what they'll find inside Warehouse Two is making her fidgety. Helena is surprisingly quiet, leaning against a camp table in her shorts and those ridiculous boots, watching as Myka paces.

As Myka passes by her, she reaches out, stilling Myka with a hand on her arm. "What?"

Helena smiles. "You're making me dizzy."

Myka ducks her head, smiling in return. "Just a little on edge," she says.

All at once, Helena's expression changes, and she tugs at Myka's arm, pulling her into a nearby tent. Before Myka can react, Helena's arm is around her waist and she's kissing her, fiercely, clutching her tightly. Myka sighs into it for a moment, but she's acutely aware of where they are, the fact that they're at work and Valda could see. (Or worse, Pete.)

She pulls away, breathless, arms around Helena's neck. "What was that for?"

Helena's expression is serious, and she kisses Myka once more, quickly. "The stories all say that Warehouse Two is a dangerous place."

"Helena," Myka says. "It'll be fine."

Helena forces a smile, quick and flat. "Just in case," she says, hollow-voiced.

Myka takes Helena's hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. "We're going to make it out of there."

"I wanted you to know," Helena says, not meeting her eyes. "That I care about you."

Helena's distress is something Myka's never seen, before. She reaches up to touch Helena's jaw, caressing with her thumb, until Helena looks at her. "I care about you, too," Myka says. She can feel heat rising in her cheeks, but she doesn't care.

Helena kisses her once more, mouth sweet and chaste, and Myka's chest tightens. Helena never stops surprising her.

Later, after Yellowstone, she'll think about this moment. She'll think about all the ways she should have known, how she should have seen through Helena. When she dreams, this will be the moment where she figures out Helena's plan, and stops her before things end up the way they do. Later, Myka will remember it as the last time they spend together, happy and innocent, without the heaviness of Helena's betrayal and Myka's guilt and everything that happens, after this.

Now, she squeezes Helena's hand, and says, "Come on. Pete's waiting."

Helena nods, and they walk out of the tent together, ready to face Warehouse Two.

It's not the last time they kiss.