Warehouse 13
Bering and Wells
psst...it's fluff
Imagine your OTP accidentally and unofficially moving in together. They're just over so much that things start to migrate over and like years later they realize this. Extra points if they aren't dating at first
It happens slowly. So slow, in fact, that neither of you actually notices.
It's her books.
After reading together one night, you lounging on your bed, her curled up in your armchair, she accidently leaves her book behind. It sits on the floor next to the armchair and never makes its way back to her room.
Over time, the pile of books grows. It starts to teeter. It reaches the armrest. Another pile forms next to it. It's obviously no longer an accident.
Her own books in your room.
A major sign of trust from someone as attached to their books as Helena.
It's the small contraptions she works on during the lengthy conversations you have when everyone has retired for the night.
You are amazed by her mind, vast enough to not only hold up her end of the conversations, but to also work on these small trinkets. Her hands never stop moving as whatever she's working on takes shape and purpose.
The first one left behind sits on your nightstand, where she set it before hugging you good night. She forgot to pick it back up before leaving.
You don't notice it laying there until the next day; your mind was too focused on how her scent lingered, how she felt in your arms, and how you wished to hold her through the night. How you had wished for the courage to tell her how you felt.
She begins to leave more and more of her contraptions behind. At first you let them be, they are her creations and you shouldn't mess with them, then you realize that she is making them for you.
You start to test them; to figure out every usage she creates them for; to find every hidden compartment she builds into them.
Her eyes light up the first time she sees you using one.
She starts to leave notes hidden in them.
You do take notice when her clothes begin to find residence in your drawers.
They are completely innocent reasons to begin with. A long mission that left her emotionally drained and too terrified – although she never admits it – to spend the night alone. A conversation one night that goes too long, and she just crawls onto your bed and falls asleep.
Then, one night on the town she has just a bit too much to drink. She kisses you before passing out. She kisses you the next morning as proof that it hadn't just been the alcohol.
You kiss her back, for those kisses and every one that follows.
Her clothes now find less than innocent reasons to stay in your room, and less than conventional hiding places.
One of her favorite bras is 'lost' behind your bookshelf. She complains for weeks about not being able to find it. You feel just a little proud that, even distracted by her, you are able to throw the fabric with such precision.
She begins to hide her underwear in random places for you to find. In your desk drawer. Behind some books on your shelf. In the pocket on your robe. You can no longer move around your room without half expecting to feel the silk under your fingers.
One of her shirts, deemed useless to wear after you tear it off of her and send the buttons flying – you still find them on occasion and leave then for reasons you can't even explain to yourself – finds a place under your pillow. You throw it in the washer with her loads so you can pull it out whenever she is out on a mission and let her scent calm you to sleep.
It isn't long before half of your closet and an entire drawer in your dresser is taken up by her clothes.
It isn't long before small pieces of her life are mixed with yours.
It isn't long before she stops spending any time in her room.
It isn't long before you start thinking of it as both of yours room.
It isn't until Leena starts to put your clothes into the same basket, however, that it hits you.
Helena has moved into your room just as easily as, but much more subtly than she had moved into your life and heart.