Title: Ours
Author: A. Windsor
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, Max Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.
Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My law degree (holy crap) could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing! And Max is mine, so please don't steal him!
Summary: Helena allows herself to want.
Author's Note: I'm so sorry. I'll just say that July was a pretty terrible month, and August was spent recovering from it. I think the mojo is back, though, so I hope you will stick with me! Also, Myka and HG in this chapter are inspired by webgeekist's AMAZING art, found on tumblr (can't do links in , unfortunately, message me if you want a link!), so thanks for the inspiration! Beta'd by my favorite weirdy reindeer panda giraffe, roughian. And a special thanks to cacheese for listening to two months of "MY MUSE IS DEAD AND I HAVE TO WRITE A WEDDING" whining.
By the time she offers HG her arm, Claudia is mostly used to both the constant flow and smell of orange blossoms. That doesn't mean she isn't eager to see these two crazy kids get hitched, though.
"No peeking," she admonishes as HG, in her smart suit and undone tie, takes her arm with an eye roll.
Pete and Myka follow behind them, Claudia knows, just as Max and Olivia sweetly bumble down the aisle in front of them, Olivia throwing petals of her own volition and Max balancing two very tightly secured wedding bands on a pillow.
Given the small size of the party, HG's lack of living relatives, and Myka's uneasy (if somewhat healed) relationship with her father, Myka and HG elected to walk down the aisle with their best man and maid of honor. If Mr. Bering was upset or objected, he isn't showing it now, and Claudia thankfully wasn't on that side of the planning.
The aisle is short, given that there are all of thirteen guests that aren't participating, and one is an infant. The Berings have front row seats on one side, with a seat saved for Olivia. Artie, Vanessa, and Leena are on the other. At the end of the aisle, in all her glory, is the perfectly coiffed, impeccably suited, indomitable Irene Frederic. On the breast of her tweed jacket is pinned a single purple orchid, matching the one pinned on Claudia's own black tuxedo jacket, and similar in color to the boys' ties and both Olivia and Claudia's dresses.
She's waiting until after they're actually married to ask HG and Myka if they know the "color" of their wedding is the color of goo. She can't wait to see the looks on their faces.
Claudia sneaks a glance over her shoulder and nearly squeals with glee. Pete, Myka on his arm, gives her a thumbs up, and Myka rolls her eyes and shoos her on.
"Oh, you get to peek," HG murmurs softly, and Claudia just keeps grinning.
"She looks beautiful," is all Claudia says as they reach the end of the aisle and Mrs. Frederic (Mrs. Frederic!) gives them a grin.
Claudia falls into place and turns to get a good look at HG's face as she gets her first look at Myka in that gown. She stifles another squeal of delight.
She's sure that Irene is saying all manner of lovely and stirring words, but Helena honestly notices none of them. All of her is focused on Myka.
Myka, who beams at her, flower in her hair and a satin dress that is beyond stunning. She's not sure what she expected Myka to wear. She herself has been opposed to dresses ever since she spent the majority of her life being forced to wear one. But this dress, with the way it clings at the bodice, then fall away at the hip, pooling on the floor, the way Myka stands before her, so sure and bright...
Helena loves this dress.
And she's still not sure how she feels about marriage, and especially weddings, in the abstract, but she would not trade this moment for anything in the world.
"Goin' to the chapel, and we're-"
"Oh my god, Pete. Stop singing that song," Claudia groans. "They already are married."
The wedding party is breaking up, if only to move into the next room over for the small reception. Claudia stopped flowering when Myka and HG sealed the deal with a kiss, and she's happy to escort the bubbly Lattimer boys with only the stray petals remaining on the lapels of her jacket. Behind them, Myka and HG linger, hand-in-hand.
"Grandma!"
Max greets Jane Lattimer with exuberance. Jane Lattimer greets the best man and maid of honor with a four-year-old hugging her leg.
"Max, you were superb," Jane praises, smoothing Max's hair back into place. It had been neatly tamed before the service, but like most kids, Max never keeps it that way.
Max nods in agreement with his grandmother's assessment of his performance.
"It was a beautiful ceremony," Jane says to the adults.
"They're so cute," Claudia agrees with a brief look over her shoulder.
"Aunt Claud cried," Max supplies, earning a guffaw from his father.
"I did not!" Claudia flushes.
"Uh huh," Max insists, though he is quickly distracted when Pete lifts him up onto his shoulders, sniffing loudly.
"Do you smell that, Maximus?" he asks.
"Yum!" Max agrees.
"I think it's calling our names."
Jane shakes her head as the two-headed bottomless pit that is her family takes off for the reception at a jog.
"I'm not quite sure where Leena finds enough food to keep them fed," she comments to the young caretaker-to-be, who is admittedly still nervous to be left alone with the bearer of the Rammadi shackle.
"I have my ways," Leena saves Claudia, appearing from the direction Pete and Max just made for. "It's not the meals I have trouble with, actually. Between those two and Artie, cookies disappear at an alarming rate." She slips an arm through Claudia's and then calls over her shoulder to the newlyweds: "Dinner is ready whenever you are."
"We'll find a way to hold off Pete and Max," Claudia teases.
They've forgone most of the reception traditions: no grand announcement (everyone knows them anyway), no father-daughter dance (for obvious reasons), and certainly no "first dance" (there's enough attention on them). There are no "toasts" scheduled for the evening, but Myka is not naïve enough to think their scheming best man and maid of honor will let them get away scot-free.
After dinner, then, they have Claudia simply cue up the music and encourage everyone to start dancing. And so it is that Myka finds herself sitting out the first dance at her own wedding reception.
There's nowhere else she'd rather be.
She slips the ring from her finger again, beaming as she catches a few words of the inscription in the blinking candlelight of the table.
"Put that back on," Helena admonishes. "You'll lose it."
Myka laughs and meets her eyes.
"You're pretty protective of a silly old tradition."
"This tradition I like. Tells everyone you're taken."
"Who's the jealous one now?"
Helena huffs lightly and, still grinning, Myka ignores her, reading the inscription: ...and those that carry us forward, are dreams.
"It says something that you quoted yourself."
"You quoted me as well," Helena twinkles back at her. Myka rolls her eyes. Helena continues: "The whole line would not fit."
"We all have our time machines, don't we. Those that take us back are memories... and those that carry us forward, are dreams," Myka completes the quotation. She's only read The Time Machine a thousand times.
"It seemed appropriate," Helena says cheekily, stealing the ring from Myka's right hand and sliding it back in it proper place on her left ring finger. Taking a hold of her hand, Helena pulls Myka to her feet, allowing space for the swish of her gown.
"Now that we've properly thumbed our nose at tradition, it's time to dance, and I'd like to be your first before Max can steal the honor away from me."
Pete's dogs are barking, and he once again wishes that he could've gone the Converse route like Max. Dress shoes just aren't designed for the amount of rug-cutting Pete prefers.
He slumps into a seat at one of the abandoned tables at the edge of the dance floor, watching as the rest continue to dance to Claudia's music choices. Myka shares a dance with her nieces, baby Chloe on her hip, Olivia spinning at her feet. Max has charmed Dr. V into yet another dance over Grandpa Artie's playful objection. Mr. Kosen gives Mrs. Bering a spin, Leena cons Artie into joining her, Dre swings Pete's mom around, and... yep, there's HG making Claudia laugh and blush as they dance.
It's damn good party.
"I didn't think you'd be such a lightweight," comes Myka's teasing voice. The song has changed, and her nieces have been returned to their parents.
"My feet hurt!" Pete pouts.
"Suck it up," Myka extends a hand.
"Agent Bering, are you asking me to dance?"
Myka just raises her eyebrows and nods towards her hand, which he takes.
"Or is that, Mrs. Wells, are you asking me to dance, now?" he teases, and Myka snorts as she rests her hand on his shoulder.
"No, we're keeping our names."
"Oh good. That could be confusing." In the middle of giving her a twirl, Pete realizes: "Hey! What about the baby?"
Myka finishes ducking under his arm and says: "What about the baby?"
"Whose last name will the baby have?"
"Both," Myka shrugs.
"Okay, but whose first?"
Myka grins. "Now that is the question."
He's surprised at how easily they talk about "the baby" these days. Even he has become more comfortable with the idea, though all this happy planning makes him think about all the lead up he missed with Max. He missed every single thing in his son's life before he arrived as a three-week-old surprise, and he can't ever get it back.
He glances over to where Max is goofily jumping around with his grandma then, and the regret is shoved aside by pride and joy.
"May I propose a trade?" HG interrupts, having made her way across the dance floor with Claudia.
"Oh, I dunno, HG. Myka just got me: she might not want to give me up for Claudia yet."
Myka rolls her eyes like she always does, giving his shoulder a squeeze before stepping away from him.
"Newlyweds," Claudia shakes her head as the two dance off. "Ugh. I haven't danced this much since I thought trying on Ginger Rogers's shoes was a good idea. I'm gonna sleep well tonight."
"So will I. As long as Max doesn't pull his Pele routine."
The dancing has winded down, over half of the party has retired upstairs (including all the Berings), but the sturdy few remain, Max stubbornly among them.
He has somehow found his way onto Myka's lap, though only her firm grip around his waist keeps him from sliding down the satin. HG sits in the chair pulled up close to theirs, completing the circle formed by Claudia, Leena, Dre, and Pete.
"Aren't you tired, buddy?" Myka coaxes.
"No," Max insists, shaking his head.
"That makes one of us," Claudia yawns, leaning against Leena's shoulder.
"I don't think I can walk upstairs," Pete says. "Dre, you're gonna have to carry me."
"I got ya," Dre agrees, making Max giggle.
"Seniority rocks," Pete exchanges a sleepy high five with Claudia.
"We need a new 'New Guy'," Dre muses.
"Or for the current New Guy to just grow a pair," Myka comments.
This gets laughs from around the circle, joined belatedly by Max, who laughs only because his adults are.
"Fair enough," Dre grins at her. "How about I make a deal with the Lattimer men?"
"We are up for deals," Pete agrees.
"I say the three of us head up now, and I'll carry Max, and I'll do it Superman-style if he'll come up to bed now."
"That sounds like a good deal, Macsen," HG encourages.
"I'm in," Pete announces.
Max seems to consider it, then sets Aunt Myka's bouquet back on the table and acquiesces.
"Okay."
"Great," Pete pushes himself to his feet, and Dre follows suit. Pete turns to Max: "Kiss all your aunts." He gestures around the what's left of the circle he just broke.
"Night, love you," Max says, reaching back to kiss Myka's cheek. He leans over to HG and repeats the process: "Night, love you." He slides down Myka's lap with a grin and heads over to Leena and Claudia, a hug and a kiss and a "Night, love you."
Getting to their feet, too, all of his aunts return the sentiments, and Max practically leaps into Deandre's arms, already throwing his own arms out in front of him. While Dre gives him a few practice swoops, Pete does the circle in reverse, coming to HG and Myka last.
"Congratulations," he beams at them, pulling them into a joint hug.
"Thanks. And good luck," Myka returns his smile.
"Good luck?"
HG gestures over his shoulder to Dre and Max. "I have it on good authority he's had far more than his daily allotment for sugary drinks. And now he's getting riled up again."
Pete shrugs. "I'll just lock the door and let him go wild."
The newlyweds laugh.
"I'll see you at breakfast, yeah? We'll wanna see you again before you head off on the honeymoon of boring old stuff."
"There's more than boring old stuff in Greece, Pete," Myka argues.
"Maybe, but you probably won't see it."
"We'll see you at breakfast," HG promises, taking Myka's hand to forestall the sibling bickering that erupts regularly between these two. "Have a good night."
Myka is sleeping. Helena was, too, briefly, but she's awake, now, in that oh-so-comfortable bed, watching her oh-so-beautiful Myka sleep.
And snore. A little. But Helena won't complain: it's rather endearing, actually. She aches from a long day and a long night of activity, both in and out of this bed, but it's a pleasant kind of ache. Besides, the hotel bed is sinfully comfortable, so much so that it practically draws the soreness out of her. Its plush comfort, of course, makes her reflect sourly on their mattress at the B&B.
Alternatively lumpy and hard as a board, it's been on the bed since Myka moved in so many years ago, and who knows how many years and agents before that. Perhaps they should invest in one as heavenly as this one once they return from Greece. If she remembers anything from carrying Christina, it's the long, uncomfortable nights trying to find a position that would grant both her and the baby relief. She wants to at least give Myka the advantage of starting with a comfortable bed, even if that won't help much towards the end.
Myka being Myka, she's already started to plan how their two weeks in Greece will be spent, but Helena has attempted to leave at least some of their days open to spontaneous adventures, and hopefully no artifacts. She's not naïve enough to think they'll get out of Greece without any brushes with Warehouse weirdness (she's packed neutralizer bag and Tesla for the eventuality) but a girl can dream.
Myka is most excited about a day's excursion to Amphipolis, the site of Alexander's most recently purported tomb, and the tour specially guided by the archaeologist himself, arranged by the Regents. Helena is most excited by the sight of Myka on Greece's exquisite beaches.
Helena reaches up to brush hair from Myka's face, her new ring catching in the moonlight. She smiles. Being "tied" to Myka Bering for an eternity is not so bad, but she knows what will really bind them together forever is greater than any ceremony, and it's the idea of that child still to come both terrifies and exhilarates her.
tbc