Title: The Middle
Rating: PG
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Infringement is not intended, if you think I am infringing just send me a cease and desist email.
A/N - I am aware there are holes in this story large enough to drive a truck through, I don't care. Although, I do hope the flashes from past to present are not too confusing.
Myka looked at Helena, their eyes met and the silent plan was passed between them. She paused a moment gauging the range, then launched herself forward. She hit Pete mid thigh and wrapped her arms around his legs. She felt Helena's impact above her, somewhere around his chest and as he toppled away from the cliff edge, she heard Helena mutter, "Bloody hell."
Earlier that morning
The day had started out simple enough. She and Helena were sitting at the breakfast table enjoying their morning tea when Pete came racing by screaming, "Get it off! Get it off!" His voice at a pitch normally reserved for crying "Uncle" during tickle fights.
The women traded looks before dropping their cups on the table and racing after Pete. They heard Trailer barking ahead of them, Pete had made it outside the house leaving the front door ajar. Running thought the open door and into the driveway they looked around, Helena was the first to determine the direction he'd gone, "He went this way." She tossed back over her shoulder as she headed around the back of the house.
Myka nearly ran into Helena as the woman skid to a halt. She huffed out, "What's wrong, where is he?" Helena pointed ahead of her toward the tree line, where they could see him disappearing, Trailer hot on his heels. She'd forgotten how quick Pete could move. Usually he only ran that fast when Leena's cookies came out of the oven or the new Batman hit store shelves.
"What now?" Helena asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking at Myka.
"I suppose we call Artie and see if he knows what is going on."
Present
They hit the ground with a thud. She heard a dull, "omphf" somewhere above her. Myka's grasp on Pete's legs tightening, she looked up his body at Helena. The inventor had landed half under Pete, her arms locked around his chest pinning his arms to his side, their faces inches apart.
"You know H.G., there are easier ways to get close to me if that's what you want." Pete grumbled as he looked down at her.
"Peter, the only reason I would get this close to you was if I were trying to save you from whatever illness has befallen you." She snapped. "Did you truly think you could survive a jump off that ledge?"
Myka thought this was a good time to get them back to the reason they were all in a tangled heap, "Pete, what happened?"
Flashback
"Tell me exactly what happened!" Artie bellowed into the Farnsworth.
She heard Helena sigh next to her, calling Artie on a Sunday at Dr. Calder's was not their idea of fun.
"All we know is that Pete was screaming about getting something off of him. He ran out of the house and we chased after him, but by the time we found him he was disappearing into the trees behind the house. Trailer followed him."
"So, what you're telling me is that my dog and Agent Lattimer are missing?" He growled.
"Well, Trailer has returned. The odd part is that he had one of Pete's shoes in his mouth. His left shoe, right Helena?"
"Yes, darling it was indeed the left." Her lip curled as she went on, "I really must speak to Peter about those infernal sneakers he insists on wearing. It's beyond me how one can find them fashionable or comfortable"
"If you'd ever tried them Helena, you'd see the appeal. And they're trainers, not sneakers. No one calls them sneakers anymore." Myka tossed back.
"Now why would I want to try anything that looks like something a clown would wear? With all those bright colors and crazy patterns." Helena looked at Myka, her gaze darkening. She truly loved to rile Myka up. She was breathtaking, her skin slightly flushed, eyes narrowing with her sharp green gaze, and the way her back became ramrod straight. It caused her breasts to thrust forward in the most delicious way. Yes, she quite liked irritated Myka.
"Are you saying that I look like a clown?" Myka bit out, looking down at her pink Adidas trainers. She looked back up and locked eyes with the other woman, a slight twinkle was in those brown eyes. She knew Helena was goading her, trying to elicit just such a response. The woman was impossible, what with her Victorian ideals and throwback fashion sense. Although, the way she wore a vest was particularly nice.
"Yes well, as entertaining as this visit to the pop culture debate is, we need to find Pete." Artie's acerbic tone broke the women's stare.
"Arthur, what could cause Peter to act this way?" Helena looked at the Farnsworth, bringing the focus back to the issue. "We've not been to the Warehouse all weekend."
"Find. Him." His Farnsworth slammed shut.
Present
Pete looked sheepish. "I, ugh, was in my room. I remembered that I had liberated the modeling clay from the Warehouse and I-."
Helena cut him off, "You took Harbutt's Plasticine!?" She leveled a dangerous look at him. "Don't you know what that stuff can do? Peter, you must really stop playing with artifacts."
"But H.G., it was really cool." He whined.
"Be that as it may, it is still dangerous. Where is it?"
Myka looked between the two, "Can we get up now?" Her arms were going numb from gripping his legs.
"Not until we locate the Plasticine. It cannot be left wherever it is on Peter."
"Pete, where is it?" Myka trying not to sound as irritated as she was becoming.
He looked contrite as he avoided their eyes. "It's on my back."
Helena spoke to Myka, "Can you reach a static bag? " At Myka's nod, she looked back to Pete. "I am going to shift out from under you. Can you try not moving, please?"
"Sure, whatever you say H.G."
Helena nimbly slid out from under Pete, contorting her body in such a way Myka wondered if she had taken lessons from a gymnast. She ended up perched on his back, her right knee in his lower back with his wrists crossed, and his thumbs locked in her left hand. She had her right leg extended out, providing her leverage over the prone man. "Myka, you can let go of his legs now. Please put on some gloves and help me remove his shirt."
"Not a word, Pete." Myka said knowing that an innuendo was on the tip of his tongue.
Myka donned the gloves and approached them. She lowered herself to her knees next to Pete's head and looked at Helena, "How do we want to do this? What exactly does this stuff do?"
Helena's lips quirked as she said, "Harbutt created this clay that could be formed into anything you wanted. It never dries out, allowing it to be shaped and reshaped as many times as the user wants. William was so pleased with his product he played with it constantly." Helena had a fond look in her eye. Myka knew there was more to the story, but she wasn't sure she really wanted to know.
"He took it everywhere with him, it was always in his hands and the longer he had it the more he molded it subconsciously. After a few years the Plasticine became imbued with an ability to form itself. It feels what the user wants and becomes that item. I'd hazard a guess that Peter was wishing for something additional on his body." She looked down at Pete, her face serious, "Just what were you wishing for?"
"Honestly H.G., I was not wishing for anything! I was just messing around with it. I was reading an Iron Man comic and thought about how cool it would be to fly. Next thing I know is this stuff flew out of my hands and attached to my back. It started to form wings." He looked at Myka, "Wings, Myka! On the Pete Man's back, so not cool."
Myka supposed it could be worse, it could have formed a jet pack and they could still be trying to catch him. "How about we take care of this now and maybe talk about why you feel the need to play with things all the time, later?"
She looked at Helena, who had taken her free hand and grabbed the knife she kept in her boot. It always amazed her how many places the woman stashed weapons. If she was honest with herself, it also turned her on. She would love to search that toned body for them, simply to know where they all were hidden. Yeah, that's the only reason. She shook herself out of her thoughts and took the knife Helena was handing over. "Sorry Pete, this is the end for your shirt."
A groan erupted from him, "Ah Mykes, not the Green Lantern shirt! Can't we talk about this?"
Myka quickly slipped the knife into the back collar of his shirt and slit it carefully down the center. Pulling the sides apart she exposed the modeling clay. It was attached to his back between his shoulder blades where it formed small wings that were laying flat along his sides. Thankfully, it didn't look like it was embedded in his skin. She looked at Helena, "On three."
"One."
"Two."
"Three!"
She grasped the clay in her right hand, tearing it from Pete's body and quickly dropped it in the static bag. Sparks emitted from the bag as Pete's body collapsed in relief.
Helena released her hold and got up. Looking at Myka she lifted a dark eyebrow, "Darling, I may have underestimated the skill with which you use your hands. Perhaps we could test their dexterity in other ways, later."
Myka blushed as Pete stood and looked between the two, "I'm still right here you know."
Later
"… and stop touching artifacts!" The women could hear Artie's bellow over the Farnsworth.
Getting up from the couch, Helena reached down for the other woman's hand. She linked her fingers with Myka's, gently pulling her up. She turned and headed toward the stairs, looking back over her shoulder she addressed the taller agent, her lips lifted in a flirtatious grin.
"I believe we have some testing to do."