Disclaimer: I own so little, and Warehouse 13 is not included in that short list. No infringement intended and no compensation derived.
She expected music. In moments of, well moments, there's always music in the movies.
Being pressed against the door of her room, the knob tunneling into her spine, Pete crowing down the hall about who knows what, and Helena's lips searing the skin of her neck would seem to qualify as a moment.
She expected music.
Nate was long gone, still in Boone with his garden, picketed fence, and little girl, his normal life. Screw normal. Teeth closed themselves around her clavicle and she gasped, pressing upward with her thigh.
It hadn't taken long, however long it takes Claudia to squeal across the living room, for the reality of Helena's return to settle in her bones. There had been a thump, bags dropping, Claudia's momentum throwing Helena and her into the wall, and then there was silence. Sounds continued, she simply didn't hear as she watched Helena smile, return the hug, Helena's eyes catching her gaze, melting into her.
The buttons on her blouse flew to parts unknown as Helena tore it open and buried her face in warm skin. The wet tongue that slid along the edges of lace pulled a groan from somewhere.
Claudia finally let go just as the ability to process her surroundings returned, and she took that first step, and another, before they stood toe to toe. Helena's fingers twitched and she smelled of jasmine, the scent heady as her skin was still warmed by the sun outside. She could taste it. "I've walked away from my truth long enough, don't you think?"
Pete finally shut up and being taller has its advantages. Helena's legs are around her waist and she's flat on her back before either of them seems to realize they've moved. Suddenly, the bed's not too large at all. Helena grunts as she lands on her, all soft curves and desperate touches. She can already feel the sting of the scratches on her back and the throb of the mark behind her ear. Her fingers ache for fumbling with Helena's belt buckle. She hates belts. It's official. After being forced to endure four hours of family time downstairs, this won't be soft. This won't be gentle, but it's awesome, in the very sense of the word.
It's a moment, damn it. She expected music.
She rolled her hips and bit down on the nearest shoulder. "Myka!"
And there it is.