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 eventually.
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: Okay, it's been forever. Over three months, forever. And I know there are some people disappointed about Baby Bering & Wells's gender and I'm sorry. Just trust me that it's all for a reason. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. There will be five more chapters before this ride is over!
Late June 2017
Mrs. Frederic has promised a new recruit soon, but for now, it's all hands on deck, with an obvious exception. This week, Dre and HG have scattered to Idaho, Claudia and Steve to Odessa, and Artie and Leena are knee-deep in artifact inventory, after Deandre and Pete accidentally took out a quadrant playing with Michael Jordan's Jordans.
The upside is that Pete has had more time to spend with his two favorite people in the world than he has had in months.
After this week's playdate with Laney and her moms (where Pete got to play real life cowboy with the horses), Pete drives a cranky and exhausted Max home to find a stir-crazy Myka.
"Did you bring it?" Myka demand practically as soon as he walks in. Pete sends Max to have a little alone, cooling down time in the living room.
"Bring what?"
"The paperwork! Artie said he'd send it with you when you stopped by this morning."
"Nope… But things are a little crazy over there."
Myka lets out a very loud, frustrated groan.
"Great. Now what am I supposed to do?"
"Read a book?"
Her glare could level city blocks.
"I'm so sick of reading."
"Holy crap, Max! Pack your bag, it's the apocalypse."
"Pete. I'm bored. I want to be productive."
"I want to not be productive. If only we could trade places."
"Sure. You carry the baby for awhile."
Pete laughs.
"Okydoky. What about the nursery? I'll carry stuff down from the attic and then we can assemble furniture and stuff. What do you think?"
"I don't know if I want to do it without Helena," Myka bites her lip.
"Assembly, arranging, no decorating!" Pete promises.
"Okay," Myka sighs.
Just then Max runs in with his backpack brimming over with stuff.
"Oh, false alarm, kiddo. No apocalypse."
Max looks pretty depressed about that.
"We'll have a drill tomorrow," Pete promises.
"Okay!"
"Wanna help me 'n' Aunt Mykes with some stuff upstairs?"
"Yeah, cool!"
"Alright, little man. Lead the way!"
"I can't believe he used to fit in this!" Pete muses as he hauls the crib into the nursery that recently popped up next to Myka and HG's room. Leena had tried to explain last week about how that happens, but Pete had gotten bored. Sometimes the magic and mystery are more fun, anyway.
Myka and Max are seated in the rocking chair Pete dragged in on the last trip from the attic. Max slides out of his aunt's lap. He has trouble fitting there these days anyway. His cute little face is screwed up as he surveys the crib.
"The baby's getting my bed?"
He certainly doesn't sound happy about it.
"Yeah, Maxy. You're too big for this one. You have your race car bed anyway. That's way cooler."
"It's my bed," Max says.
"Maybe he's right, Pete," Myka speaks up, pushing herself out of the rocker. "We should've asked."
Pete leans the crib parts against the wall and surveys his son's stubborn face.
"Yeah. You're right. Sorry, buddy. Would you like to give your old crib as a gift to the new little guy?"
Max thinks for a moment, then nods and unfolds his arms.
"Okay. He can have it."
Myka smiles at him and ruffles his hair.
"Thank you, Max."
Max nods.
"Do you want to help us build it?" she asks.
"Us?" Pete says, crossing his arms over his chest, just like Max.
"Yes, us, Pete. Once again, I am not an-"
"Invalid, I know," Pete sighs. "Okay, okay."
"I'll help," Max says enthusiastically, dashing out of the bedroom and disappearing into his own room. He returns with his belt of plastic tools around his waist and a pair of Claudia's goggles on his head.
"Where do we start?"
Pete laughs. "Alright, Handy Manny, let's see if Aunt Mykes and I remember how to do this…"
Max's "assistance" certainly doesn't hurry the process along, but it does make it lots of fun. His kid's laugh is just infectious. But Max grows bored before the job is done and retreats to his room to play with his cars.
"You figured out how you're going to decorate?"
"I don't know. HG and Claudia have a lot of ideas. They're almost all too… steampunk."
"Aha. Sports is always good," Pete says as he screws in one side of the crib.
"Because he's a boy?" Myka huffs, holding the rails steady.
"Nooo," Pete defends. "If he were a girl, I'd say the same. Oh! Or superheroes!"
He used to let Max win, when the boy was a toddler, but he's been starting to just play the game out, especially in games that require luck rather than skill. He doesn't want his son to be a sore loser or to pout when he loses, like his Aunt Claudia. But even though Pete is not actively allowing Max to beat him, the kid is still kicking his ass at Sorry.
And enthusiastically, gleefully crying "Sorry!" every time he bumps one of Pete's pieces, which in turn makes Myka laugh. Loudly.
Maybe "sore winner" is the lesson Pete should actually be teaching.
Or "be nice to Daddy", since there is less glee in his voice when he bumps his aunt.
This day has been pretty great. This week has been pretty great, actually. Like a mini-staycation with his two favorite people in the world. They started the day with "Breakfast a la Pete" (pancakes, which Pete finally forced himself to learn a few years ago) and have been alternating between enjoying the beautiful summer day and a board game tournament.
Pete is just digging himself out of another Max-induced Sorry-hole when Myka's phone rings. Her smile when she looks at the screen tells him all her needs to know about who the caller is.
"Just a second, guys," Myka says as she pushes off of the couch, which Pete thinks is impressive, given the fact she is pretty obviously incubating a future human at his point.
"Hey," she greets her wife.
"Is that Agey?" Max hops up. "Can I talk to Agey?"
"Everybody likes HG more," Pete pouts, but it's playful. He really can't complain; when he calls home when he's traveling, he can hear Max sprinting from the other end of the B&B to talk to him.
"In a minute, Max," Myka promises as she moves towards the doorway. "Yes, I'm fine, don't worry. I'm feeling pretty good, and the guys are keeping me company. How's Boise? … That good, huh? Well, don't you and Dre have too much fun with all that Idaho nightlife."
Max patiently (for Max, meaning no whining and minimal bouncing) waits for his turn to talk to HG. Pete studies the board to calculate the chances of saving his dignity.
When Max does get the phone, he disappears completely into the next room, as if in fear of eavesdroppers.
"What is that about?" Myka laughs.
"Maybe he's asking how to blow more things up. Thanks for that, by the way. The kitchen still smells like vinegar."
"Thank me? I didn't teach him that. HG did."
"Yeah well. Guilt by association. You're married to her."
"I'll ask her to limit all experiments to the Shed."
"Of if they're gonna blow stuff up, at least let me be there!"
Myka grins fondly at him as she sits back down. "I'll pass along the message."
Max finally returns, handing the phone off to Myka as he climbs onto the couch beside her. He gives her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek and a squeeze around the neck.
"That's from Agey."
Myka grins and kisses his cheek back. "Well, that's for you for being such a good messenger."
"Alright. Let's finish up this game," Pete says, rubbing his hands together. "And then maybe an ice cream trip?"
Pete likes to shake it up at Univille's favorite (and only) ice cream shop. By which he means, trying the whackiest (and yummiest) combinations of flavors. His tastes leave some of the teenage employees there rolling their eyes and bracing for the onslaught, but Pete's favorite scooper, Ashley, is working today, and they're having a grand old time making today's sundae. Max and Myka have more simple tastes and have already retreated to a table right next to a fan. Maybe he's just adjusted to North Dakota too much, but it is hot today. He hates it, and he's not even incubating a human.
"Da-ad. Hurry up!" Max calls over. Fast approaching five, he's developing a bit of a 'tude. Pete blames Claudia.
"Yeah, hurry up!" Myka mimics.
"You can't rush greatness, people."
Max and Myka laugh, and so does Ashley.
"What a sweet family," the woman behind him says as Ashley finally finishes their masterpiece and goes to ring him up. "So nice to see. I wish my son would get his act together and settle down like you."
"Oh! Yeah, thanks! No, um. I mean, no. We're not. Well, the kiddo's mine, but we're just - friends. Yep. She's his godmom."
"I'm sorry," the woman smiles over his awkward fumbling. "Cute little boy, though." She turns her attention to the scooper who's taking her order.
"You okay?" Ashley asks when she comes back from the register with his change.
"Huh? Yeah, sorry. Just spaced out."
"Thinking about this Caramel Coffee Pistachio Gummy Bear masterpiece?" Ashley teases.
"Oh, it's gonna be awesome, Ash, thanks," he says, but it sounds forced even to him.
He is okay, really, but for half a moment, he felt sad about denying that the three of them were a family. Not because of any feelings for (disgustingly happily married, basically his sister) Myka, but because just having the three of them for most of the week, hanging out and getting the baby's room ready has felt so… normal. Just like he'd always imagined family life. And he wants that. Mourns that, maybe, between the solo parent-teacher conferences and the late night tummy bugs and the epic two-man Mario Kart battles.
And maybe in another world he could've even had that with Myka. Maybe. (Gross.) But not in this world.
But where is he going to find someone else to share all of that in Univille, North Dakota, with a four-year-old son and a freaky-deaky job?
"Lattimer, get eating before it all melts on you!" Myka calls.
"Agey's home!"
"Hey! What about me?" Dre complains.
"Hi Dre," Max says more calmly, looking up from where his face is buried in HG's middle.
Pete also hurries to greet them, though he makes a point to greet Deandre first to soothe his bruised ego.
"How was Idaho?" Pete asks as he slings an arm around HG's shoulders.
"Boring," HG answers, giving him a curious glance. His hello probably is more enthusiastic than usual, but he is happy to see her, especially because he knows Myka has really missed her.
"Potatoes," is all Dre says. Pete laughs.
"Where is Myka?" HG asks.
"Slow," Max says matter-of-factly.
"She's not exactly light on her feet," Pete agrees. "I think the baby grew while you were gone. A lot."
"I can hear both of you, you know," Myka says as she finally joins them. Max lets out an "eep!" and hides behind HG.
"Just the facts, Mykes. Keeping her apprised of the situation on the ground. Slow and grumpy."
Pete ducks behind Dre just in time to miss her punch.
"Don't set bad examples for the kids," Pete teases, looking over Dre's shoulder. His partner's punch is still ready, but she's grinning, just a little.
Pete passes her a cheeky smile and then smacks an unexpected kiss on HG's cheek. "Welcome home. Now she's your problem again."
He escapes back into the inn before either can hit him this time. He hears Dre draw Max off, his son chattering away about some adventure or the other. He hears a prolonged silence that means kissing, and then:
"Darling, you're not a problem at all."
tbc