[A/N]: Hi there! It's FBI AU time! Thanks for reading, and ily for even opening the first chapter. 3 Enjoy!
Pete always got on her case about her lunchtime habit. He got bafflingly fixated on it sometimes, and could never wrap his mind around the fact that despite her love of libraries, Myka would always sacrifice the convenience and closeness of the Bureau's library for the comforting, relaxing shelves of the public library a few blocks east of their workplace. It wasn't that she didn't like the Bureau's library, but it was home to none of the classics, of her favorites, and it was so drab. Besides, it didn't have that pleasant, social feeling the public one did.
So, every day at lunch, Myka would sit in the public library, eat a grilled cheese and a salad (no dressing, because as much as the librarians liked her that was where they drew the line) and read in perfect contentment. The natural light was always warm, no matter the season, and the chairs were plush and comfortable in the classics section.
It was a place where she could forget the frustrations of their newest case, and damn, but she needed that. Of course, a case with a crook nicknamed "the Time Traveler" could never be easy. No, never, which meant for Myka late nights, dead end leads, and stress, stress, stress.
They had one single picture of their suspect, and the only useful information it gave them was her gender. Her hair was tied up in a plain headscarf, her eyes hidden by large sunglasses, even though she was inside the bank at some ungodly hour of the night. Lush lips tugged up into what was either a smirk or a smile, but the agents couldn't make it out because her damn face was in profile.
She was called the Time Traveler because she was in and out in seconds flat. The security was tripped as she entered and not a breath later the vault opened and the cameras failed. The breaches never lasted longer than forty five seconds, and no one could figure out how she did it.
A particularly irritating night, poring over crime scene photos, witness reports, and disgusting coffee led to her ripping into her sandwich with an unconscious vengeance the next morning while she paged through The Invisible Man, looking up at the sound of an amused little "hmph" sound.
A gorgeous, dark-haired woman sat in one of the armchairs across from Myka, smiling faintly. "Whatever did rye bread do to you, darling?" she inquired, voice dripping with an accent that did something very strange to Myka's gut.
The federal agent swallowed quickly, answering in a faintly apologetic tone, "Rough night at the office, that's all."
"Do have mercy on the poor sandwich. It's not the one driving you mad," the Brit mused, opening her own book and saying no more.
...
The woman became a regular at the library just like Myka, and they began a sort of book club, recommending books to one another and trading excited rants about their favorites. Helena was the woman's name, and Myka found herself more and more often lingering over the Brit's face instead of reading, hanging off every exotically-pronounced syllable.
She was almost disgusted by the degree of her infatuation, not because she thought it was wrong (that particular conflict was a whole other bucket of snakes) but because she was starting to get distracted at work. She had even been late once because of a particularly enthralling discussion with Helena over War of the Worlds.
On a Friday five or six weeks into their budding friendship, as Myka was packing up her lunch and her book (The Scarlet Letter), she shook her head and blurted, "You're ruining my work ethic, you know."
Helena looked up in surprise, her cheeks going pink as Myka stared in equal if not greater embarrassment as she realized what she had kinda-sorta admitted. "I wish I could say I was sorry but I do hate lying," Helena replied finally, voice as smooth as if she hasn't missed a beat.
The agent cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, I'll-I'll see you Monday, then."
"Actually, well, I was sorting hoping we could meet sooner? Tonight?" Her voice was silky, yet her expression was almost nervous as she stood to face Myka.
The curly-haired woman was nodding furiously before she even realized it. "Yeah, okay, um, yeah," she finished lamely, even as her stomach was doing strange, excited loop-the-loops.
Helena grinned dazzlingly. "Brilliant. Is dinner okay? Er, six? At the Italian place on 17th?"
Myka nodded again, at a loss for words. "Maybe six thirty, I get off work at half past five," she managed eventually, fighting the ridiculous smile stealing across her lips.
Helena nodded brightly and Myka shifted her feet. "I-I should go, I don't want to be late to work again," she admitted. "I'll see you tonight, Helena."
"It's a date!" the Brit answered cheerily.
Myka stopped in her tracks, unable to name the sensation in her chest. "Is it?"
Helena glanced away, taken aback by Myka's change in demeanor. "I was rather hoping so."
Myka squared her shoulders and continued on her way. "It's a date, then."
...
The Federal Investigation Bureau was a very serious, highly regulated department. It dealt with high security threats crossing all state borders, and each agent was highly trained and dangerous.
It was staffed entirely by children.
Especially on Fridays. Anxious for the weekend, Pete and Claudia spent the whole day having a paper airplane fight, with poor Jinks stuck in the middle. It wasn't like they had any new leads in the Time Traveler case anyway, so they weren't shirking much actual work. Artie's computer crashed twice, at eight fifty six and one twenty seven exactly (you could set your watch to it, it happened every day), prompting Claudia to stick a stuffed animal in his face to calm him down while she fixed the problems. The young tech was brilliant and resourceful but highly unsuited to office work; Artie and the bureau as a whole had given up trying to make her obey the dress code.
Restless to get ready for her date(!) Myka began packing away her files, stopping only when she realized the stares she was attracting. A flush crept up her neck as Pete cleared his throat. "Uh, Mykes," he reminded her, "it's five thirty." Her partner and number one confidante, he was often stuck working with her on all her late nights.
"So it is," she agreed, willing her voice not to fail.
"You stay until past ten," Claudia added, slowly pulling her feet off her desk to watch the scene unfold. Her eyes glimmered as Myka turned to face them. "What's the hot gossip, Mykalicious?"
"Don't ever call me that again."
"She is allowed to leave anytime after five thirty, it's none of your business, children," Artie yelled from his office.
"Where are you going?" Pete asked slyly.
"Nowhere," she replied a little too quickly.
Even if her voice hadn't given her away, it didn't get past lie detector Jinksy. "Try again, Myka." The closely-shaven man got annoying with his immediate dispelling of lies but there was no denying he was worth his weight in gold in the interrogation room, no matter how much Claudia corrupted his work ethic.
"Home?" Not quite a lie; she wanted to change before her date. A date with Helena, oh my god.
"Almost there," Jinks disagreed.
Myka sat back against the edge of her desk awkwardly, brushing some loose curls out of her face as she mumbled, "I'm going to dinner."
"A little louder, please!" Pete urged her.
"I have a date!" she yelled.
"With who?" asked Agent Martino, an investigator from a different team, as he walked by. There was something strangely unpleasant in his tone.
"Yeah, how can you meet anyone when you spend all her time here, asleep, or both?" Claudia pressed.
Pete snapped his fingers and Myka could just see the lightbulb go off. "Mykes! Did you meet a nerd at the library!"
"No! ...Yes," she confessed before Steve could call her out on the lie. She braced herself for the onslaught of questions and was not disappointed.
"What's his name?" (From Steve)
"Is he hot?" (From Claudia)
"What's he like?" (Steve again)
"Anyone we know?" (Sam, with a twinge of jealousy that she would rather do without)
"Do you liiiike him?" (Pete, of course)
Him, he, he, him. Yikes. This was gonna be hard to explain. Especially to Sam, her never-really-accepted-it-and-moved-on-ex. Myka felt her blush threaten to return.
"All of you shut up!" Artie barked. "Let the poor girl escape!"
"Thanks, Artie," Myka said dryly, gathering her bag and coat. "I'll see you guys Monday."
"This isn't over, Bering! Prepare to kiss and tell!" Claudia yelled.
Myka's face erupted in a burning blush and she fled to hail a cab outside.
...
Myka's thoughts on the way to the restaurant were conflicted; elation, a bit of dread, and mostly nervousness battled within her. I'm so overdressed oh but this place is fancy maybe I'm underdressed what if it just fizzles out I'm gonna blow it I'm gonna fuckin blow it oh my god do I really like- now is not the time to try and figure out your feelings Myka Bering just go out and have fun things will be more clear afterwards oh my gOD I'M GONNA BLOW IT.
She managed to compose herself outwardly as the cab drew up to the restaurant, tugging at the hem of her red is-it-too-long-or-is-it-too-short cocktail dress. The night was warm, and she was glad to have chosen a sleeveless dress from her limited arsenal.
Entering nervously, Myka scanned the room for the woman she was supposed to meet. For a second, she saw no one, until like a mirage her date appeared, beaming at the sight of the agent. Myka was sure that the relieved swoop in her stomach was visible as she made her way over and Helena rose fluidly to her feet.
Oh my god. The Englishwoman was clad in a strapless turquoise dress that clung to her perfectly. Myka tore her eyes away, focusing instead on Helena's brilliant smile. "Hi," the agent offered.
Helena laughed. "Hi," she replied, pulling out Myka's chair for her.
"Thank you. And I thought chivalry was dead," Myka murmured as the Brit returned to her seat.
"Not so long as I am alive," Helena declared gallanty. "You look absolutely lovely," she added breathlessly, taking in Myka's appearance with sparkling eyes.
Myka blushed and ducked her head. Good lord, this woman made her feel like some flighty teenager. Myka had shot people, for god's sake! What was she doing acting so demure?
Helena brushed her soft, dark hair out of her face. "I'm glad you could make it," she said softly, and all of Myka's bravado flew from her mind, replaced by a warm blush that she could hardly think around.
"I'm glad you made the date," Myka answered quietly, smiling.
They did the standard first date dance; work, friends, basic information. Helena worked in imports and exports downtown, she didn't have many friends in DC yet, being new to the city, et cetera et cetera. Despite the mundane topics, Myka was never not delighted with everything Helena had to say. The twisting in her stomach never went away-god, would she ever not have butterflies in her stomach when she talked to this woman? She was fascinating, charming, exciting, beautiful-everything Myka herself was not, and Myka was intoxicated by it.
She didn't realize the passing of time until the waiter placed the check on the table, coming to her senses just in time to snatch the check, special agent reflexes working faster than her date's. "Not on your life, Wells," she warned as Helena reached her hand out.
"No, I insist," Helena persisted.
"Well, I refuse," Myka retorted. "I won't take no for an answer."
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, then, darling," Helena replied smoothly, rising to her feet.
Myka dug in her purse for her wallet, hardly noticing as the Brit came around the table, but she definitely noticed as Helena gently ran electrifying fingers up Myka's arm. As Helena leaned down, her hair tickled Myka's shoulder, lush lips brushing the shell of the agent's ear. Myka was lost in a whirl of sensation, Helena's touch sending shivers up and down her spine, almost missing the accented purr, "I'll take that."
Again, Myka was too fast, rescuing the check before Helena could draw it all the way out of her fingers. She regretted the loss of Helena's touch, but snapped playfully, "That's cheating!"
"What is, darling?" Helena queried coyly, dancing fingers playing up Myka's arm again.
"That!" Myka shot back, cheeks flushing pink.
"All's fair," Helena shrugged, returning to her seat with an arch look. "Are you sure, darling? I'd be more than happy to pay."
"Clearly I would, too," Myka replied easily, sliding her card into the little black book and ignoring the thundering of her heart. The waiter accepted it as he passed. "It's no trouble, Helena, really," she told her soothingly.
"Fine, but I pay for the next one," the woman replied, sounding unconvinced.
"Is that a promise?"
"It's a fact, my dear."
...
The cab stopped in front of Myka's building and they both climbed out, Helena signaling for the cabbie to wait.
"I had a lovely evening, darling," Helena murmured, taking Myka's hands in her own.
The federal agent smiled. "Me, too. Thank you, Helena."
One soft hand came up to cup Myka's face. "May I?" Helena asked softly.
"Please," Myka breathed, and the Englishwoman drew her in for a long, soft kiss.
One arm encircled Myka's waist, the other trailing from her cheek to the back of neck, fingers tangling in her curls as Myka tugged her closer. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering at maximum intensity, high on the taste of Helena's tongue, still spicy from her meal. Her heart pounded in time with the rapidfire beating of her heart.
When they separated, Myka found herself whispering, "Where is this going, Helena?"
"As far as you want it to go, darling," she breathed back, leaning her forehead against Myka's.
The agent brushed Helena's hair behind her ear and kissed her again. "What if what I want isn't what should happen?"
"Then tell me what should happen, and it will come to pass."
Myka groaned, her mouth finding Helena's again. "Well, I think we should return to our separate homes."
"I was afraid you'd say that," Helena sighed.
"My damn rational mind," Myka agreed in a mumble. They stepped out of each other's arms, Helena into her cab and Myka onto the steps of her building, and the cabbie took the Brit off into the night.
...
Myka didn't sleep much that night. She couldn't shut her brain off, turning the night over and over in her mind. She hadn't been able to think when kissing Helena, didn't think twice about kissing her a second, third time. It had felt so right, electrifying. But if it was so right, then why had she let her go?
What had she and Helena become? Where would this path take her? For the life of her, she didn't know, and she definitely didn't know where she wanted it to go. She wanted Helena, that much she knew, but for what, well, she couldn't answer.
She didn't know where to begin with what this meant for her sexuality. She had never in her wildest dreams seen herself so attracted to another woman. Not wanting to think about what her family would think, she rolled over and tried to imagine the others in her life.
Work was going to be an experience, come Monday. She vividly remembered the last time she had a date with someone new, that someone being Sam, and the office had nearly ripped her apart, scrounging for their fix of gossip.
But what would she tell them? What would they think? Hi guys, so my date was with a really really attractive woman and and and
And what? What else was there to say?
[A/N]: This'll be a shorter fic, four or five (maybe six! *gasp*) chapters max. I'm kinda digging it so far? Are you! Please review and tell me what you think!
