"So... don't think I didn't notice you never technically answered my question," Leon grinned at Helena as they sat at a table at a small corner pub near the HQ, Leonsipping a pint as Helena took a taste of her rum and coke. Hunnigan had excused herself and headed home, informing the two agents she had a lot of paperwork to sort out and a dog to feed.

"Which one exactly? You asked a lot of questions," Helena smirked.
"The first ones, namely how you knew my name, and how you and Hunnigan know each other."

"Well, what's there to tell?" Helena dismissed and Leon chuckled.

"She laughs louder at your jokes than she does at mine, I'm jealous," he teased and Helena rolled her eyes, smiling at him. She was fairly certain he had no idea Hunnigan had told many amusing tales of his flirting. Granted, Helena admitted Leon was probably doing it on purpose, she doubted anyone was actually as clumsy at flirting as he'd pretended to be.

"I like my women like I like my coffee, in a porcelain mug," was quite a memorable line though, Helena admitted. Somewhat disturbing, but memorable.

"Maybe you just need to learn better jokes," she shrugged, "And seriously, what the hell was the sewer-comment? 'Not a fan of sewers?', like I'm supposed to enjoy running around in sewers," she continued, a sceptical eyebrow quirking.

"Okay, I admit, that was pretty bad," Leon chuckled, having no explanation for the odd comment either.
"Well, to finally answer your questions, she and I know each other intimately and I knew your name because I've heard horror stories of your horrid flirting, so there," Helena shrugged.

"Horrid! I respectfully disagree with that remark," Leon scoffed and took a sip of his beer before continuing, "So, how long have you two been involved?"

"Practically the entire time I've known her," Helena laughed awkwardly, not wanting to go into details of how quickly things had actually escalated. Leon merely quirked an eyebrow, not commenting or requesting for further details despite being curious. If there was anything he'd learned of Helena during the short time he'd known her, it was that she was definitely not the type to disclose much details even if asked.

"Did you know that she has a dog named Catnip?"
"Oh, now that's just wrong!" Leon shook his head.

"I think so too!" Helena agreed. They were silent for a while, Leon intently staring at Helena until she finally frowned at him.
"What?"

"I was just trying to imagine you two as a couple. I kind of can't see it at first because... well, I've known Hunnigan for almost ten years and based on what I know of her, I wouldn't necessarily think you're her type," Leon explained himself and Helena quirked an eyebrow.

"And just how well do you know her?" she smirked.
"...obviously not as well as I thought," Leon then admitted after pondering on it for a moment. Truthfully, he knew almost nothing of Hunnigan on a personal level, she rarely spoke of herself or her personal life.

"Well, in all honesty, I wouldn't necessarily think of myself as her type either if I didn't know better. Considering how different we fundamentally are, it's amazing how well-attuned we are," Helena commented then.
"Yeah, you're the plate smashing-type, she's the silent treatment-type," Leon smirked and Helena rolled her eyes.

He wasn't wrong exactly. While Helena didn't go around destroying dishes, she was likely to take her wrath out on an inanimate objects that happened to be conveniently nearby at the moment. And when it came to arguing, Hunnigan was the uncrowned queen of passive-aggressive behavior. Helena would've actually preferred having dishes thrown at her than the silence and the feeling of discomfort caused by what felt like her heart imploding in her chest, an emotion that came with knowing that Hunnigan was angry at her.

They didn't argue very often, but when they did, it was horrible because Hunnigan could drag it out for days and go on apparently unaffected, she could function like she normally would. Helena on the other hand was the opposite type, unable to concentrare properly on anything because she was so bothered by what was happening. Distracted, expecting a message or a call, anything that would either hint at finally being able to settle the argument... or something that would escalate it to the point where even Hunnigan wouldn't be able to just silently sulk, but would have to argue and clear the air.

While Hunnigan was the one who could drag the arguments out, Helena was the one who had difficulties recovering from them. "Fight about it, talk about it, get over it and move on" wasn't an option for her because the feeling of everything not being all right lingered for a while afterward. Hell, just thinking about it made her feel like she had some kind of a rodent chewing away at her sternum.

"Actually, she mutters at me in French because she knows that not being able to understand the things she calls me really annoys me," Helena finally commented with a light chuckle.
"I didn't know she knows how to speak French," Leon mumbled into his pint and Helena giggled a little at him.

"And why would you have known?" she shrugged, emptying her glass and heading to order another and a second pint for Leon as well.
"Thanks, I'll owe ya," he smiled as he accepted the pint.

"Well, there is a favor I'd like to ask," Helena began slowly as she sat back down.
"Sure, I'll help if I can- wait, what do you need help with, don't tell me you're..."

"Yes, I'm moving," Helena chuckled.
"Aw, shit. Well, you better not have a piano."


"Oh, crap," Helena muttered as she stumbled over Catnip's toy newspaper and it squeaked loudly. She lost her balance and would've fallen face first if it weren't for reflexes and muscle memory saving her and helping her manage an almost graceful landing. She got back up, kicked her shoes off and snuck into the bedroom.

Helena undressed and slipped into the bed, trying not to wake Hunnigan, unaware that the other woman had already been awake since Helena's initial stumble into the apartment... after having spent an unreasonably long time trying to fit the key into the lock... and then starting over after realizing she'd been trying to enter with the key to her own apartment instead of Hunnigan's key.

"Did you have fun?" Hunnigan inquired amusedly.
"Uh-huh. Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay."
"This isn't my fauly, I was overserved."

"Yeah, and you're a lightweight."
"My secret shame!" Helena exclaimed dramatically. Hunnigan laughed softly and pulled Helena close, resting her cheek on the top of the younger woman's head as Helena snuggled into Hunnigan's neck.

"Oh, I tricked- er, I mean I recruited Leon to help me move in. That is if the deal is still on," Helena then said.
"It is," Hunnigan assured with a soft chuckle and ran her fingers through Helena's hair, leaving them to lightly caress the back of Helena's neck then.

"I love you," Helena snuffled sleepily.
"I love you too. Get some rest," Hunnigan whispered.


Times like this morning were when Hunnigan became consciously aware of the age difference between herself and Helena. Usually she thought nothing of it; Helena was nearly a decade younger, but most of the time she was so responsible, serious and grown up, the years between were barely noticeable. However, when Helena scuffed into the kitchen, dressed only in her underwear, digging remnants of last night's mascara from the corner of her eye, and still managed to look almost fresh and completely not hungover, Hunnigan became aware of her youth.

A decade ago she herself could've pulled the same off. Hell, in her early twenties, she'd spent numerous nights out drinking excessively until four in the morning and had still managed to get to work by nine without a hint of a hangover. Not something she could do now... not that she would've wanted to either; in the past few years she'd realized overindulging was not really worth the effort anymore.

"Well, you're only as old as the woman you're feeling," Helena had said the one time they'd discussed their age difference.
"So, you're thirty-three?"
"Smartass."

"I'm starving," Helena yawned, "Drunk-Helena was supposed to feed me, but Drunk-Helena spent all her cash at the bar and forgot that she's still technically dead... because you did a very convincing job faking my death, my bank still believes it, so the ATM ate my card and now I literally have no money... so, could you feed me, please-thank you?" she requested then and went to sit at the kitchen table.

"Oh, crap, that's what I forgot!" Hunnigan smacked her palm over her forehead.
"You forgot to resurrect me? How could you!" Helena pouted.

"I'm sorry, it's been a busy couple of days."
"I had no idea being declared dead could be this inconvenient. Considering how hard faking one's death supposedly is, I'm amazed no one believes I live."

"For your information, it is hard, you're considered dead only because I am damn good at my job."
"What a strange thing to take pride in," Helena chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'll fix it as soon as possible. You're free to use my card in the meantime," Hunnigan offered.
"Thanks, I'll pay you back when I'm alive again."

"You don't need to," Hunnigan shrugged, "Especially when considering you're moving in, we might as well combine some of our finances to jointly cover the living expenses."
"Sounds good to me," Helena agreed and got up, moving to peek over Hunnigan's shoulder and stare into the pot on the stove.

"What's cookin', Doc? It smells good."
"It's, uh... a pig's heart... for the dog."

"Oh," Helena deadpanned, "...well, it still smells kinda good."
"You really must be hungry."