Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me
A/N: This is a short little scene that popped into my head. I wrote down for IDF, since time didn't permit me to make a larger contribution. It takes place sometime after S2E7 but before S2E9; the early days when Myka and Helena had just met.
The Rapture of a Finished Day
Myka hated the Bed & Breakfast sometimes. Privacy was nonexistent, too many people in too close proximity to one another. It could get suffocating. Moving silently through the still inn, the agent made her way to the back porch.
She relaxed as she stepped out into the quiet night. Breathing in the cool night air, she reveled in the momentary solitude darkness afforded her. Nimbly climbing the railing and letting her feet dangle off the side, Myka looked up at the night sky still amazed at all the stars she could see. It reminded her of home and a time when her life was a lot less complicated.
"Oh good," Myka almost fell backward in her haste to turn to the disembodied voice coming from a shadowed corner of the porch, "I thought you would never get here." Heart beating hard against her chest, Myka felt adrenaline rush her system lighting her entire body into a hyper alert state. "I think I fell asleep for a moment," the sleep roughened voice continued, sounding awfully familiar to Myka's ears.
The intruder moved forward, stepping into the abundant moonlight. Myka gasped. "Helena," she squeaked wildly looking around to make sure they were actually alone. She half expected Artie, Pete, or even Claudia to burst through the door and find them together. "What are you doing here?" Myka's voice was an octave higher than usual but she was modulating it to a fierce whisper, which made her voice sound strangled.
Helena looked at her oddly, "Are you quite alright, darling?"
Myka's green eyes widened. She pressed a finger to her lips letting out a sharp shh trying to shush the other woman, "Not so loud."
"Oh bugger," Helena mumbled tripping over her own feet before catching herself. "Don't worry," she slurred slightly moving closer to Myka, "they're all asleep."
The agent stepped back to lean her hip against the railing she had been sitting on. Crossing her arms over her chest, Myka narrowed green eyes at the writer, assessing her with a shrewd once over, "Are you drunk?" Her voice went high at the end, expressing her incredulity at Helena's audaciousness coming to the Bed & Breakfast without her full faculties.
Now leaning against the railing next to Myka and facing the agent's profile, Helena's voice was much quieter cognizant of the fact that there were people sleeping not far from them, "I may be slightly inebriated."
"How did you even buy alcohol?" Myka asked shaking her head at the woman. "It's not like you have money."
Helena let out an affronted snort, "I'll have you know that men and women still buy other people drinks in a bar."
"Univille has a bar," the agent sounded surprised. "Wait," Myka looked into slightly glazed brown eyes, "what did you do for those drinks?"
"Nothing untoward," now Helena really sounded offended, "I am a lady." And snooty, Myka thought a smile playing over her lips. She did not understand how that was endearing at all, but she felt insidious affection warming her chest.
"As opposed to popular belief," she pointed a sloppy glare in Myka's direction, "my presence can rouse other things beside suspicion."
The agent had to choke back a laugh at the wording, "I'm certain you rouse plenty of things, Helena."
Brown eyes narrowed, the writer trying to figure out if she was being mocked. Unable to discern the tone and innocent look on the agent's face Helena gave up but sniffed haughtily just in case. Myka's smile widened. She turned her hip, fully facing the writer; no longer pretending she was not interested in her presence.
"My face does seem to get its share of attention," Helena explained unprompted, "At least, enough for free drinks."
"It is a pretty face," Myka assured, jade eyes warm with something more than simple affection as they caressed the beautiful face in front of her.
"It is. I'm glad you noticed," Helena said with aplomb.
Myka rolled her eyes and let out a small chuckle.
"And the accent seems to do wonders, as well," the writer continued, slightly mystified that a difference in speech pattern garnered so much attention.
"Well, yes," Myka felt obliged to explain, "that's because it's sexy."
Something like realization dawned on the writer's face. "You realize you just said by virtue of my place of birth, I am effortlessly sexy," the awe in her voice was completely put on.
Myka snorted in amusement, "Like you needed me to tell you something you most definitely already knew."
"It is nice when I hear it so directly," Helena's lips quirked into a smile reflexively as she watched Myka's lips curve into a pretty grin. Shifting a bit more into the agent's personal space, the writer traced the face across from hers with a gentle gaze. "You have a beautiful smile," she told Myka sincerely, "and beautiful eyes," brown eyes roamed over the whole of the agent, "and beautiful everything really."
Myka blushed in pleasure at the words, before quickly becoming self-conscious. She was wearing tiny shorts and a tight tank top, with little else underneath. "Thank you," she said earnestly, blush deepening at Helena's continued perusal. Gallant even while drunk, brown eyes stayed on Myka's face once she noticed the agent's discomfort.
Clearing her throat, Myka returned to an earlier query, "What are you doing here, Helena?"
Sad eyes looked up at her, "I missed you." Apparently, the writer was also an honest drunk.
The words made Myka's heart miss a beat, which it quickly compensated for by thundering to break neck speed the next moment. Feeling lightheaded, the agent shook her head, "You shouldn't have risked coming here."
"I couldn't help myself," Helena stepped closer still, leaving mere inches between their bodies, "I had to see you." Delicate fingers reached to trace the agent's lips. Myka allowed it and shuddered at the touch. She canted her head into the palm of Helena's hand as the writer moved to cup her cheek. Green gaze locking with brown, Myka momentarily wondered where all the cool air had gone, she was practically burning up.
Helena closed the distance between their bodies, the hand not on Myka's face wrapping around her waist pulling them tightly together. The agent automatically wrapped her arms around slim shoulder, the writer at the perfect height to do so because her boots put her on eye level with a barefoot Myka. Somewhere in the shift, the hand Helena had on her face had shifted the back of her neck sending delicious tingles down the agent's spine.
Their noses brushed. They breathed each other in.
"You're drunk, Helena," Myka pointed out, not really protesting just stating the obvious.
"Only slightly," Helena reassured, eyes veering to lips she was aching to taste.
"You won't remember this," Myka breathed tilting closer to the writer's lips.
"I won't be able to forget," Helena promised.
Myka pressed their lips together. Arms tightened, bringing them impossibly closer. Helena's mouth was soft and supple under the agent's insistent assault. Opening her lips to deepen their contact, Myka swiped the writer's lips with her tongue; the lovely mouth yielded to her entreaty for entrance. The agent ventured her tongue into a warm mouth. She groaned as their tongues gently glided over each other. Helena tasted of peppermint and chocolate.
One kiss continued into the next, until the women were clutching each other desperately; desire morphing into need. Knowing now was neither the time nor place to do anything about it, they let the kisses peter out naturally. Their foreheads pressed and breathing labored when they finally stopped.
Feeling slightly drunk herself now, Myka kept a firm hold on Helena needing the support. Once her knees felt like they could hold her weight, the agent stopped clinging so desperately to the writer. After an interminable moment, Helena sighed and began to disengage from the embrace. "I must go," she whispered despondently. Myka nodded but clasped the writer's hands as she fully pulled out of the embrace; she was loath to let her go.
Raising the hands clutching hers to her lips, Helena gently kissed the knuckles on each hand. Looking up through her lashes at the agent, Helena smiled, "We will see each other again. Soon. I promise." Nodding mutely, not doubting the writer's word for a second, Myka released her and let her walk away. Again.
Watching Helena's figure disappear into the darkness, Myka shook her head at herself. Her lips still tingled and her hands itched at the absence of the writer. Gripping the rail tightly to keep from following after the woman, the agent stared hard into the darkness. "That woman will be your ruin, Myka Bering," she whispered to herself with certainty, unsure if the fact thrilled or terrified her.