The campaign begins to heat up, Myka and Helena 'come out' as a married couple, and something else begins to heat up, too.
The next week was extremely busy. The campaign was heating up, and Walter Sykes' rhetoric had begun to be aimed directly at Helena, rather than at the more nebulous immigrants that he'd been targeting before. Helena was the worst kind of immigrant – an American only on a technicality, a trust fund child who did nothing but take from those around her. She was gliding along on her father's reputation as a businessman, on her brother's reputation as a Senator. She was, he implied, untrustworthy because of her many any public flings, and worst of all, she was bisexual. She had abandoned her husband, Sykes alleged, abandoned him in his grief at the loss of their child and moved on to sleep with multiple woman. She did not have the moral character to lead this great State. She was the worst kind of immigrant, he said, because she gave nothing back to the country. Did she even pay taxes?
They went on and on, Walter Sykes' allegations, and they were, Claudia warned, just the beginning.
"Marcus Diamond is disgusting. He will dig up every single skeleton he can find. He will use every dirty trick in the book. Walter Sykes will use anything and everything against you. So you two need to dial up the PDA," she said, pointing at Helena and Myka. "You need to be seen in public, get drunk, fool around a little. I'm getting Steve to come for a couple of days. I've been wanting to set him up with Liam." Liam was one of the older interns. "So he comes here, you go out for dinner and drinks and we leak it to the press. I want pictures of you two looking at each other lovingly. And then I want you to do an interview with one of the networks. They've all been asking to see you – I want to give them both of you. Focus on the love story, the real American woman who tamed the wild HG Wells."
Helena nodded, as did Myka. Helena had been struggling with Walter Sykes' tactics. She was angry, she was hurt, and she was vulnerable. Myka had been soft and sweet and supportive, but Helena was sinking. Every morning she heard things about herself that made her feel dirty. That they had used her dead infant daughter against her had almost broken her, and the campaign wasn't even a third of the way through. She needed to take action, to take control. The headlines, the disgusting things Sykes and his campaign said, they were running through her head constantly.
Steve arrived that weekend, and he took one look at Helena's wan face and pulled her in for a hug. He held her tightly and kissed her hair.
"I'm so sorry, HG. I'm sorry they're doing this, honey," he murmured.
To her own very great surprise, Helena began to cry. Luckily, Steve was already walking her along to the town car. Myka was on her other side and together they shielded her from any possible attention.
When they reached the car Steve pulled Helena in close and she cried her heart out for the entire journey back to the house. When they arrived home she wiped her face and they went inside. Myka showed Steve to the guest room and left him to freshen up, and when she returned she sat next to Helena.
"Are you okay, honey?" Myka asked softly.
"Yes. I'm sorry, Myka. I lost my composure in public. I can't afford to do that," Helena said shortly.
Myka stared at her for a moment and then took Helena's hands in hers.
"You are a human being, Helena. You get to feel bad. You get to feel hurt. You get to feel whatever the hell you like. Walter Sykes – he's an asshole. The man is attacking you and I know that you are hurting. Why did it take Steve coming here for you to react? Why are you holding this in? I've been here this whole time, Helena, and you sleep in my arms every night. But you haven't cried. You haven't shouted. You've been silent this whole time. Why can't you just let go with me?"
Helena didn't say anything. She just stared at their joined hands.
"I thought after…after the homeless shelter, we had established some trust, you know? I thought you knew that I was here for you," Myka said, frowning.
"I do," Helena said, almost inaudibly.
"Then why?"
Helena shrugged.
"Do you… do you want me to back off, Helena? I'm trying to support you, but if it's not working, if I'm not helping…" Myka began.
"No, that's not it, Myka. I just… I'm not used to depending on anyone else. Steve and I – we've spent years working together and he's been my closest friend. I suppose that I am comfortable leaning on him on the odd occasion when I become overwhelmed. I've never been under this sort of pressure before, though."
"Pressure, Helena? This isn't pressure! This is like a war – they're attacking you, every aspect of your character. You need help and support, not just someone you can lean on occasionally," Myka said, and as she did so, she moved closer to Helena and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Helena sighed and let her head rest on Myka's shoulder.
"I'll try, Myka. I'm not in the habit, I suppose," she sighed.
"Well, get into the habit. You need this, Helena. You need to depend on someone or you're gonna go insane."
She squeezed Helena a little closer and kissed her temple. Helena let herself relax, turning her body towards Myka's and putting her arm across Myka's abdomen. Myka began rubbing Helena's back soothingly. They stayed like that until Steve returned from his room, changed and ready to go out.
"You guys ready?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"No, not yet, Steve. Sorry," Helena said, sitting up properly and extricating herself from Myka. "I'll go have a quick shower and change. Myka, do you want to use the other bathroom so we can save time?"
"Sure. You okay here, Steve?" Myka asked.
"Yes, of course," he said, going to the kitchen to brew himself some tea. Had Helena been listening, she would have heard him whisper, "You got it so bad…"
They showered and dressed quickly, both wearing almost identical casual outfits – jeans, boots and blue shirts – different shades, but blue nonetheless. The only difference was that Helena was also wearing one of her favourite waistcoats on top. They smiled at one another and Myka took Helena's hand to lead her out into the living area.
"You guys look great," Steve said, unfolding his long body from the chair and fetching his coat.
The restaurant Claudia had chosen was infamous and full of celebrities and LA's glitterati. It was owned by a celebrity chef who had a television show on a major network. By the time they had made it to their table, they had been greeted by no less than seven different well-known LA celebrities and local politicians, with Helena openly introducing Myka as her wife.
Claudia, Liam and Todd, Claudia's boyfriend, joined them shortly after their arrival, and after they'd ordered, they toasted to Helena's campaign and to the opening of the homeless shelter, which was due to happen in a few days, having been delayed by a plumbing problem.
"Thank you, everyone. And thank you for coming out with us this evening to help us let our hair down and have a good time," Helena said, toasting them all with her wine.
They ate a lovely meal – the celebrity chef's reputation being well founded – and drank copious amounts of red wine. Myka was sitting next to Helena, and as they had been instructed by Claudia, they were "dialling up the PDA," which meant lots of touching – of hands on thighs, around waists, of fingertips ghosting across knuckles. Each touch made Helena's breath catch in her throat, and while she kept talking to herself, telling herself that this was just a charade for the sake of her career, her body, her heart - they didn't care. They just wanted. And after a while, the red wine, her body and her heart won. They were halfway through dessert when Helena - who had stopped listening to the conversation some time ago, listening only to her own libido while she stared at the green of Myka's eyes and the hint of rose in her cheeks – Helena lost control. Helena forgot where she was, who she was with. She took Myka's hand and dragged her from her chair to the small corridor leading to the bathroom, and she pushed her against the wall of the corridor. Not aggressively, but not gently either. She kissed those lips that she had been staring at all night and she was extremely pleased when Myka made a noise deep in her throat, putting her arms around Helena's waist and kissing back passionately, her tongue in Helena's mouth. After a moment, her hands descended perilously close to Helena's rear. Helena retained enough sense to grab Myka's hands and pull them upwards to her lower back – the last thing they needed were pictures of them practically having sex in public – but kissing was okay, even this kind of kissing where Myka's tongue was painting vivid pictures against Helena's of what it would like to do, where it would like to go. And God, did Helena want that. All of it.
"I said dial up the PDA, not get us thrown out," Claudia said from behind them. Helena pulled away from Myka with a real wrenching effort, and took a second, with her forehead resting against Myka's, before she turned in Myka's arms to smile at Claudia.
"Sorry, Claudia. Did we overdo it?" Helena asked, trying to catch her breath as Myka's hand teased at the edge of her underwear at the back.
"Not exactly," Claudia said wryly, "but Steve and Liam would like to go clubbing, and I think to be honest that might be the best place for you two right now."
"I think you're right," Helena said, as Myka's hand, hidden from Claudia's view, began to creep under the edge of her underwear and down from her lower back to her buttock.
"Okay. Come on, let's keep it moderately PG for the paparazzi, okay?" Claudia said, shaking her head. Helena heard Myka chuckle from behind her, and her hand pulled away. Helena mourned the loss. But Myka didn't let go of her hand, at least.
They managed to keep it 'PG for the paparazzi', but Myka kept Helena close, and Helena was warmed – figuratively and literally – by the contact.
They went to a nearby gay club, which was mostly populated by men – it was one of Liam's usual haunts, apparently – but it also had the expected complement of straight women – fag hags, they were known as, at least in London – and a few gay women, so Helena and Myka were not entirely out of place. Claudia and Todd had taken off, with stern warnings from the former that they were not to do anything that could get the campaign in trouble. They hadn't been followed by any photographers, so it appeared that the rest of the night was their own.
Liam and Steve made themselves scarce almost immediately. Helena knew Steve well enough to know that he was smitten with the younger man, and that chances were good that they would go home together, and soon. The dancing, the drinking – it was all part of the courtship ritual, but the ending was inevitable.
As that thought entered her head, she turned her head to look at Myka, who was standing behind her, leaning on the wall, one arm around Helena's abdomen, the other holding a Scotch.
"Are you okay, darling?" Helena asked, as Myka's eyes met hers.
"Of course," Myka said. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well," Helena began, "I thought I might have taken you a little by surprise earlier."
Myka smiled, her head tilting a little.
"I thought that was why we were at the restaurant, Helena," she murmured. "To get pictures of us being affectionate, showing everyone that we're in love."
For some reason, hearing Myka say that made a lump develop in Helena's throat.
"Well, yes," she managed, finally, with a weak smile. She turned her head, leaning it back against Myka's shoulder, and closed her eyes, taking a sip of her own drink.
"You know," Myka whispered, right next to Helena's ear, "there's no reason why we can't see what happens here. We've promised we won't see other people, and we're clearly attracted to each other."
Helena turned her head again, looking up slightly. Myka, too, had turned her head and had angled it in such a way that their eyes could meet. There was a question in Myka's. Helena looked at her for a long moment before turning just a little bit more, so that their lips could meet again. From that angle the advantage was all Myka's, and she took that advantage and took control of the kiss. Her tongue was in Helena's mouth, teasing Helena's, and now it tasted of the harsh burn of Scotch instead of red wine. Her fingers were slipping into the gaps between Helena's shirt buttons and ghosting along her bare abdomen, making Helena's stomach twitch.
"You never mentioned that, when we were practising," Myka murmured, her lips moving to Helena's throat.
"I didn't realise until just now," Helena said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as Myka's teeth nibbled under her jawline. "I think it just might be you that does that to me," she whispered, as Myka's hand slipped smoothly inside her shirt and her fingernails scraped at Helena's skin near her ribs.
Their lips met again and Helena turned in Myka's arms, slipping her own arms smoothly around Myka's neck and pulling her head down further so that she could lose her fingers in soft curls, to gain back some leverage and advantage in this. It was her turn, then, to kiss Myka's jaw and neck and to bite sharply at her earlobe, relishing the gasp she drew from Myka as a result. Myka's hand wended its way into Helena's hair and she pulled, sharply, eliciting an echoing gasp from Helena before her mouth came down again and she once again kissed Helena urgently with teeth and tongue and lips. Myka's leg, a little longer than Helena's, was pressed ever so slightly between Helena's, fitting just perfectly at the top of her thighs, and Helena was just leaning in, trying to gain some friction, when they were interrupted.
"Ahem," came an incredibly unrealistic throat-clearing from behind them. It was Steve and Liam. Helena turned to face her friend, slightly embarrassed at being caught this way, necking like a teenager at a keg party.
"Helena, I think I'm going to go get some coffee with Liam. Are you guys okay if I make my way back to you later?" Steve said, with an emphasis on the 'later' that clearly meant 'tomorrow'.
"Of course, darling," she said with a slight smirk. He could hardly judge her for doing exactly the same as what he had planned. And at least she and Myka were married, however tenuous their bond might be. Her smirk broadened into a smug smile and he gave her a faux-dirty look that promised they would be talking about this tomorrow.
"Can we give you gentlemen a ride?" she asked. She turned to Myka and lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "I think we were just about to head home, weren't we, my love?" she asked Myka, smiling slightly at the endearment which was of course for Liam's benefit. He was not high enough on the campaign food chain to be clued in on their arrangement.
"Sure," Steve said easily. Helena called her car service and a driver arrived quickly, dropping Liam and Steve off for 'coffee' at a block of apartments with no coffee shop in sight. As soon as Steve and Liam had closed the door behind them, Myka was upon Helena, her lips on Helena's throat and her hand sliding up underneath her shirt to scratch and drag at the skin of Helena's back.
Helena wasn't normally one to cede control to anyone. Sexually speaking, that was not her typical modus operandi. She liked to be in control, and while that perhaps made things rather predictable in some ways, it certainly made them easier. She got what she wanted and she left. That had been how she had operated since Nate had broken her heart, and that was how she had planned to continue operating, when she thought about sex, about relationships, at all. She hadn't planned, however, on Myka. Myka did not take Helena's control away, however. What Myka did was much worse. She made Helena want to give control to her, happily. Helena had never been handled like this, and she never thought she would want to be, but Myka, who had tipped her world upside down in so many ways already, was now doing it again. In the scrape of her teeth against Helena's neck, she was saying "you are mine," and as Helena tipped her head back, she was saying "yes, yes, I'm yours," and she almost began saying it out loud after Myka bit down on her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Myka had claimed her, and that was before they had even left the town car.
When they arrived at the house, they stumbled to the door in a jumbled mass of limbs and lips and after a brief tussle with her jacket pocket, Helena freed the keys and they made their way inside.
Stepping into their shared home, for some reason, stopped Helena in her tracks, and she began thinking, a process which was decidedly hampered by Myka grabbing her and almost slamming her bodily against the inside of the front door, before beginning an all-out assault on her body with teeth and lips, tongue and hands. Myka's hands were cupping Helena's buttocks and lifting slightly, eliciting an intense moan from Helena, but she could also feel her brain telling her to brake, to pull up. Myka was drunk. What if this was the worst idea? What if it destroyed their fairly easy-going relationship and made things hopelessly awkward between them?
"Myka," she murmured weakly, and Myka responded only with a satisfied hum as she sucked on Helena's collarbone, probably leaving the kind of mark behind that Helena hadn't had since she was a teenager. "Myka," she tried, again, and Myka squeezed her behind tighter, putting pressure in places that were not helping Helena think clearly.
"Myka, sweetheart, can we talk for a moment, please?" she said, and Myka's head came up, her eyes meeting Helena's, glazed over with lust and alcohol.
"What is it, Helena?" she asked, confused.
"Are you sure about this, Myka? You're drunk, we're both drunk. I don't want you to regret this. I don't want you to feel like you have to do this."
"I don't feel like that at all," Myka said, looking bewildered. "I don't think I've ever wanted anything so much," she murmured, and the way she looked at Helena – it was something too raw, too strong, too real. Helena couldn't stand up in the face of that look and say no, or in fact anything at all. So she just leaned forward and kissed Myka, pulling Myka's hands down to rest on her ass again, and they stayed where they were for a little while, kissing (and if Helena was quite honest about it, grinding against each other) before they made their way into their bed, naked and drunk and high on each other.
Myka took control, despite her professed lack of experience with women, and Helena told her later that she would never, ever believe that she didn't know what she was doing, because Helena had never been so thoroughly cared for, so thoroughly and methodically brought to that kind of intensity by anyone, male or female. Myka was surrounding her, and Myka's mouth was on her, all over her, and Myka was in her – she was intensely glad that they had no close neighbours because the noises she was making were so loud that she would have been embarrassed if she hadn't been so incredibly lost in sensation. When she finally recovered, she determinedly set to making Myka feel the same way, and she was gratified when Myka's cries were no less intense than her own had been. Whatever this was between them, the word attraction did not cover. Helena had truly lost herself in Myka, and Myka in Helena, in a way that Helena at least could say she'd never before experienced. As she lay in their marriage bed watching Myka's soft smile slowly relax into the slackness of true deep sleep, her heart clenched and she swallowed against the lump developing in her throat. As Claudia would say, she was well and truly fucked now.
She woke in the morning in Myka's arms, very much as she usually did, but on this particular morning they were both naked, the room smelled of sex, and so did they. It was, mercifully, the weekend, and while the campaign never slept, they didn't have anything pressing to do that morning. Helena was lying on her back with Myka's arm flung over her belly. Myka's face was pressed into Helena's hair, and her soft breath was tickling at Helena's ear. She was still fast asleep. Helena didn't know what to do. If it had been anyone else in bed with her, Helena would be sneaking out, calling a cab, throwing her one night stand out with nothing more than a nod and a goodbye. But this was Myka. This was her wife – her fake wife, yes, but her legal wife. With whom she had now consummated the marriage. Her wife.
She thought it was possible that she might start hyperventilating, so she began to take slow, deep breaths, and the movement of her abdomen must have disturbed Myka, because she, too, began to stir. Helena turned in her arms and watched as Myka's eyes opened slowly, revealing the green and gold of her irises, glassy with tiredness.
"Hey," Myka murmured, her lips turning up in a smile. She leaned forward straight away and kissed Helena, surprising her intensely. Helena had expected embarrassment, or at the very least an attempt to distance herself. But Myka was diving right in.
Myka was not stopping. Myka was kissing her, and Myka's hands were beginning to move, and before Helena had truly registered what was happening they were consummating again enthusiastically, and she sincerely hoped that Steve wasn't back yet because the night before had definitely not been a one-off in terms of Myka's effect on her, nor in terms of her effect on Myka. The walls of the house were sturdy and well-built but they were not soundproof. When they finished together the first time Helena was assuming they would get up afterwards, make breakfast, have coffee. But Myka had other ideas and so too did Helena's body, which meant that it was a long, long time before anyone was moving anywhere other than underneath the bedcovers.
