Yes, you will be subjected to a long author's note, it's the final chapter and THIS IS MY DUE. So first of all, you guys are great; thank you so, so, so much for your reviews/general awesomeness. And second, if ever I post another one shot saying something like 'i have written literally nothing else for this, but i kinda want to continue should i?' your responsibility as citizens of the Earth is to message me and say 'WHAT. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER LAST TIME? A STORY YOU THOUGHT WOULD BE LOOSELY CONNECTED ONE SHOTS ABOUT MYKA AND HG GETTING IT ON IN VARIOUS COLLEGE ENVIRONS (sex in the library really appealed to me, not gonna lie – don't include this part) TURNED INTO A SEVEN CHAPTERS OF MYKA FREAKING OUT OVER BABY!CHRISTINA WHO IS CANONICALLY DEAAAAD'.
I appreciate your cooperation in this Very Serious matter. Enjoy.
The kitchen smells amazing, but Myka is far too focused on her task to notice. She sticks her head into the oven (it is turned off, she's not stupid), appraising the way the cheese has melted on top of the lasagna and, deeming it satisfactory, pulls out the dish. She turns, only to remember that the counter is packed with food in various containers and steadily growing stacks of dirty dishes – she and Deb really need to buy themselves a rack. There is, however, a small space between a tray of iced cupcakes and aforementioned stack of dirty dishes, and Myka uses her elbows to make some room for her lasagna. It requires an awkward, twisting sort of side to side dance but she does it, and Pete wanders in just in time to place a towel underneath the pan.
Myka smiles her thanks at the makeshift coaster. "When did you get in?" she asks. Pete plops down on a rickety old stool – which Myka reminds herself to stow away somewhere, she wants Christina nowhere near it – and goes to double check that all the appropriate drinks are in the fridge.
"Just now," Pete replies, yawning. Myka nods absently, cataloging the one litre bottles that line the bottom shelf – cream soda and Dr. Pepper and tonic water and apple juice, all present and accounted for. Myka closes the door with a satisfied thunk and flits across the kitchen to reassure herself that the potato chips she bought early this morning haven't disappeared. She skims the labels – barbeque, all dressed, ketchup, sour cream and onion, salt and pepper, regular, regular with ridges, lightly salted. Yes, she is well prepared.
She even has Pete-distractors, a platter of chips and dip that sit invitingly on the counter so he won't be tempted by the food sitting on the dining table the food before the guests arrive.
"This is a lot of food, Mykes," Pete says, casting an appreciative glance around. He's not wrong – food, homemade or otherwise, covers almost every flat surface in the tiny kitchen Myka and Deb share. There's even a plate of cookies on top of the fridge because there was no room elsewhere. "How many people are going to be here, anyway?"
"Just me, you, Leena, and of course H.G. and Christina."
Pete pauses with a chip halfway to his mouth. "Just us?" Pete asks in surprise. Myka shrugs.
"Not much of a party. Why isn't Claudia or Joshua or someone here too?
"Well, who else knows about Christina? Even Helena's neighbours aren't sure."
"You mean to tell me I'm going to be the only guy in a room full of girls?" Pete demands. "Awes – whoa, hello there."
"Pete, if you drool on the furniture I swear I will punch you."
"Hey, my BFF makes a porno, I'm allowed to look!" Pete protests, leering at a particularly enticing platter of croissants.
"So you got the toy for Christina?" Myka checks, and to his credit, Pete keeps himself from rolling his eyes.
"Yep."
"And remember to act like it's from you," Myka orders. "I promised H.G. we wouldn't buy each other anything."
"I know," Pete says. "You've only reminded me a kagillion bazillion times in two weeks."
"Okay. Okay," Myka exhales noisily. "Okay. So, Leena's due here with H.G. and Christina in an hour and a half -"
"Wait wait wait, did they just get back today? Isn't London like six hours behind us?"
"Ahead. No, they got back yesterday but I didn't want to have the party then because, you know, jet lag and everything." Myka continues her original train of thought, "And Deb is in Florida so there's no way she'll walk in on us giving my girlfriend and my girlfriend's baby a welcome back party. So that's good." She breathes in and out again, and picks up the final dish. "You know, you're here pretty early, for you."
"Whaddaya mean, early for me?" Pete takes up the dish rag and starts drying. "It's 11. A.M.! How much earlier does it get?"
"Hey, I've been doing this for three hours." Myka rolls her eyes, handing him another dish.
"You were up at 8?" Pete sounds unreasonably impressed.
Myka bats at the hand sneaking towards a chocolate cupcake. "I was up at 5," she corrects. "Couldn't sleep," she adds sheepishly.
Pete whistles. "You must really love her."
Myka leans over to smack at Pete's hand, and he pulls away from the icing bowl with an outraged yelp. "There's still the living room to decorate," she informs him archly.
Pete pouts rubs his hand, but doesn't mention what Myka ignored. Which she'll probably pay for later, she figures. But for now –
"Let's get cracking!" Pete exclaims.
The living room has been fully decorated, food has been placed into appropriate containers, maximum effort has been made to match chairs to dining table. Everything is set.
And then of course, because the universe hates her, when Myka goes to wipe her hands, she discovers her jeans are streaked with drying chocolate, brown-black and peeling against the denim. Leena is due to bring Helena and Christina over in approximately thirty seconds and there is no way they can see her like this.
She turns to Pete, pleading. "I need to go change can you answer the door I'll be real quick okay?"
"What? Hey, wait!" he calls, but Myka is already sliding down the hall.
Thirty seconds pass far, far quicker when one is in a rush, something Myka discovers when she runs into her room and hears a loud knock. Soon after is a muffled Surprise! and Pete cheering from the living room, enough noise for a whole crowd. Myka groans in despair.
Panicking, she shimmies out of her clothes and snatches up the nearest thing in her wardrobe. She runs to the mirror and stares for a second, paralyzed. Does she have time to run a brush through her hair? She should be out there welcoming Helena and Christina back home – but she also should look less like she just rolled out of bed. A quick brush through it is. She doesn't register that she's wearing a dress until she's halfway down the hall and it's far too late to change.
Pete and Leena are sitting on the couch when Myka walks into the living room, but Helena and Christina are nowhere in sight. Before Myka can really worry, Leena catches sight of her and waves. Manners take over, and she heads towards them, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her dress, a periwinkle blue thing that flares out just slightly past mid-thigh. She tells herself she's not overdressed. In fact, most girls would consider this no fancier than a spring dress. It's is a solid colour, with a round neckline and little cap sleeves. She is not overdressed.
Pete's back is to her, though she can hear him speaking animatedly. "Yeah," she hears him say. "Mykes did most of the cooking and the cleaning today, and – oh man, have you tried her lasagna yet? It's like the one thing she knows how to make and ohmy God, it's – ugh." Pete tips his head all the way back, mouth moving soundlessly. Beside him, Leena looks vaguely amused, which seems to be her default expression the few times she has been confronted with a chatty Pete Lattimer. "But hey, you know what, I hung up that sign," Pete points toward the Welcome Back! banner draped across the wall. "All by myself, and Myka only had to fix one side of it. Not that I'm bragging, but that is quite the accomplishment, considering how ana -"
"Hi, Myka!" Leena says quickly, and Pete chortles . "Good to see you again!"
"Hi, Leena." Myka accepts the hug and smiles. "Nice to see you, too."
"So now I'm dying to try your lasagna," Leena tells her with a laugh and Pete nods in approval, sipping at his Coke.
She mutters a thanks and Pete says, "Welcome back, Mykes. Thanks for ditching me, not that I'm bitter or anything."
"Shut up, Pete," Myka says absently, craning her neck for any sight of H.G. or Christina.
"Unnecessary rudeness right now, Mykes." He wags a finger at her. "And I was just about to tell you how nice you look."
"Helena and Christina are just in the kitchen," Leena interjects, smiling kindly at Myka. "H.G.'s calling her parents. Let me go and find them."
"Oh, no, I can -"
"No, no," Leena insists. "Pete's been telling me how hard you've been working to set this party up. I'll go get them for you, okay? Rest, relax."
"It's a tiny apartment, I don't -" Myka protests, but Leena is halfway to the kitchen. Myka purses her lips and flops down on the couch. "Oh, wow," she says, sinking into the cushions. Her fatigue catches up with her all of a sudden and she stretches out with a groan, feeling her muscles pull and relax.
"You excited to see H.G. again?" Pete asks, looking at her over top of his giant cup of pop.
Myka feels a grin tug at her lips before she quite gives permission. " Yeah, of course. Skype just isn't the same, you know?"
Pete hums in agreement, watching Myka jiggle her knee. "Impatient or nervous?"
Myka looks at him in surprise. "I'm – what?"
"Because you look more nervous than anything," he continues, as though she hadn't spoken. "You wanna share with the class?"
"I'm – I'm not nervous." Myka pauses. "Well, I mean, I am but it's not because of Helena. Okay, no obviously it's because of Helena, but it's not like, Helena did anything wrong, you know, it's just that – she's been acting kind of strange on Skype. Like, not the usual amount of eye contact." She winces, because if that's not the weirdest thing to notice, she's not sure what is. "I don't know."
"Is everything okay with her?" Pete asks, leaning forward curiously, but Myka is already shaking her head.
"Yeah, I'm probably just reading too much into it. I'm glad to have her back home."
Pete is quiet for a second. Then, "She must really like you, huh? I mean, if I had a kid, I wouldn't let just anyone within a ten foot radius of her. And I know you said you found out about Christina by accident, but I would've just – distanced myself. Right there, but she didn't." Pete slurps thoughtfully at his drink and Myka looks on, speechless. "And if I were you, I would've split the second my girlfriend told me she had a kid. Like, Usain Bolt woulda got nothing on me." Myka shifts and Pete's eyes flick to her and away. "If I did stick around, and if I tried to get to know the kid, that's how I'd figure it was -"
"Pete."
Pete leans back on the couch. "I'm just saying, Mykes. You should be more confident in your relationship."
"I am confident!" Myka protests.
He squints. "You were just over analyzing the amount of eye contact she made with you on a Skype chat."
Myka sputters, "Pete! I – I well, I mean, there's kind of a lot at stake here, if I screw up."
"Whoa, Mykes, you're not going to screw up." Pete stares at her, shocked.
Myka has had two weeks on her own to adjust to the fact that Helena and Christina are very much a package deal, and she has. What worries Myka now is that she will be lacking in some way, and fail to give Christina or Helena something they need. Actually, it terrifies her, which might show on her face because Pete squeezes her knee and smiles.
"I dunno, Pete," she mutters.
"Well, if you want to be there for them so much, what's stopping you?"
Myka recoils at the challenging tone. "Nothing's stopping me; I made enough food to feed an army of you for weeks! I'm there!"
"There you go then!"
"Exact – wait, what?"
Pete sips his drink, making the action seem smug and Myka stares at him, not sure if she should be angry or –
"Hi hi!"
Christina is already trying to climb up Myka's legs by the time Myka turns, ever present stuffed bunny clutched tight in her hand.
"Christina." Myka says, sitting up. She pulls the little girl into her arms and buries her face in Christina's soft yellow sweater. "Oh, I missed you."
"Me too," Christina whispers right against her ear, in the too-loud way of toddlers. Myka pulls back and Christina's eyes shine dark and bright like her mother's and Myka cradles the little girl close, breathing in her sweet baby smell.
"I went to London!" Christina exclaims, booted feet dangling off Myka's knees. They catch her shins as they kick absently but Myka can't bring herself to mind.
"Oh, wow! And did you have fun?"
"Yup." Christina nods. "Next time you come, too. We can visit Buck-in-um Palace." Myka laughs delightedly, and marvels at how very quickly Christina picks up grammar and pronunciation. In the next breath she finds herself wrapping her arms tighter around Christina, worrying the little girl is growing up without her. She hasn't had much one-on-one time with Christina, because six hours is a ridiculous time difference and the little girl was in bed whenever Myka was just getting home from school. So in the two weeks the Wellses were in London, they communicated mostly through Helena and on one occasion, a letter, written by Helena and dictated solely by Christina. (It occupies a place of honour on her desk, and more than a week later, Myka still grins every time she catches sight of it.) "A whole queen lives there," Christina finishes earnestly.
"A whole queen?" Myka asks, and tries to keep herself from sounding too falsely surprised, she hates it when people do that to children, but Christina doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she nods very seriously and allows Myka to cover her with kisses once more.
A throat clears. "Hey there, Christina," Pete says, and both Myka and Christina jolt. Pete pauses in the middle of waving to the child and Myka pretends she hadn't forgotten he was sitting there.
Christina twists to face the stranger, then promptly tries to burrow into Myka's shirt. Myka laughs, she can't help herself, because Christina really is the cutest. She remembers fondly to when Christina met her for the first time, how Helena had reassured her with a look. Helena is still in the kitchen with Leena, so Myka takes a fortifying breath and shifts Christina in her arms. She waits until the shy toddler looks up at her and murmurs, "It's all right. This is Pete." Christina stares back at her, not at all convinced, so she continues encouragingly, "He's really nice."
"Nice?" Christina repeats, softly enough that Myka's not sure Pete can hear.
"Nice," she promises, equally as quiet. She smooths a ringlet away from Christina's face and waits for her to make a decision.
"I'm not just nice, Myka!" Pete's indignant tone catches Christina's attention immediately, and she watches curiously, still half hidden in Myka's shirt. Pete sits straight up, brimming with wounded pride. "I'm super duper nice. It's true!"
Christina laughs, easily charmed, and Myka knows it's going to be okay.
"Oh, before I forget." Pete reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plastic chef doll. "It's Colette Tatou, from Ratatouille, I think. Your Myka told me you like dolls." He holds the toy out with an encouraging smile. Christina sits immobile, clearly conflicted – on one hand, toy. On the other, relative stranger.
Christina twists to face Myka and Myka waits bemusedly as Christina stretches to 'whisper' in her ear. "Nice?"
Myka wonders if she'll ever get used to the rush of love whenever Christina looks up at her so trustingly. "Nice," she agrees, and if her voice is a little hoarse, Pete doesn't say anything.
Christina stretches out little arms for the doll, which Pete relinquishes with a silly little bow, making Christina laugh once more.
"There was a Ratatouille for sale, too," Pete says, watching Christina inspect the new toy. "Right next to Colette, but – ew, right? I hate rats."
"Oh?" A smooth voice queries innocently. "How unfortunate. Christina adores rodents."
Myka's eyes flutter shut at the sound, which is ridiculous, but tell that to her body. "Helena." Now Myka drinks in the sight of her, standing nowhere near the middle of the room but the center of Myka's attention anyway.
"Mummy, see?" Christina holds her doll out, as triumphant as if she'd bought it for herself.
"I see it, darling." Helena's eyes crinkle at the edges, a detail the webcam never quite managed to capture properly, and in seeing it, something deep within Myka shifts and settles back into place.
Pete clears his throat once more, and it's so obviously awkward in the sudden silence that Myka wants to laugh. "And on that note, I'm gonna go try out that lasagna. Again. Mm, lasagna!" Distantly, Myka hears Christina laugh at the excitement in his voice.
"It was very kind of you to buy her something, Pete," Helena says, sitting down a foot away from Myka, which she doesn't understand at all.
"It was Myka's idea," Pete says easily. "She came up with what to buy, I just had to go out and get it." Myka attempts to glare and wince apologetically in the same breath.
Helena raises an eyebrow. "Is that right? And whatever happened to 'I hate shopping as much as you so let's promise we won't buy any presents for each other'?"
"This doesn't count," Myka says quickly. "It's from Pete. And it's for Christina!"
Helena snorts, settling in to argue the point when Leena calls from the kitchen. "Pete, help me make a salad!"
"One Pete-chef, headin' your way! Wanna come, Chris?" Pete holds out his hand invitingly and Christina hesitates only for a second before scrambling off Myka's lap.
"Careful," Helena and Myka say as one, but Pete steadies the little girl easily, and trails her into the kitchen. They leave silence in their wake and Myka finds herself staring at the stains on her coffee table and sneaking looks at Helena. She seems to have forgotten about the present Christina isn't supposed to have, and Myka doesn't want to be the one to remind her.
"You look lovely," Helena says finally.
Myka looks down at herself in surprise and starts a little, she'd forgotten she's wearing a dress. She fusses with the hem, smoothing out the wrinkles. "It's not too much? I mean, I don't usually wear dresses but this is pretty plain and it's a special occasion, so. I mean, it seemed appropriate. Also, I was wearing really dirty jeans right before you came in, so I needed to change and I also, it turns out, need to do my laundry, so that's why I wasn't there when you -"
"Myka." A cool finger presses against her mouth and Myka breathes deeply, eyes falling shut.
"I missed you." It's easier to say things like this when she doesn't have to look into Helena's chocolate warm eyes, but she finds herself missing the way Helena's mouth quirks up at the corners whenever she's happy. She blinks her eyes open slowly and finds Helena watching her with an inscrutable expression – which she had done on Skype as well, and Myka had thought was the fault of the low quality of her parents' webcam, but now she's here in person and looking at her in the same way. "What is it?" she asks, brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"
Helena blinks and the look disappears. "Nothing," she whispers. "I'm glad to be beside you again."
Myka grins and Helena reaches for her hand. Myka surprises herself when she practically lunges across the sofa to kiss Helena, whose mouth opens invitingly under her assault, her arms coming tight around her. Myka melts into her, remembers anew the softness of Helena's skin and the twist of her tongue as it traces along Myka's teeth.
"Sorry," she mutters when she gathers herself enough to pull back, a blush burning her cheeks. "I didn't mean to just attack you like that."
"Don't apologize," Helena murmurs, tracing a finger along Myka's cheek. "Not for that."
Myka sees her smile mirrored on Helena's lips, and slides off Helena's lap, mostly gracefully. "How've you been?"
"Fine," Helena replies, turning to face Myka. Myka keeps her hands in her lap, oddly shy now. "Didn't my letter tell you everything?"
"That was Christina's letter," Myka protests, hiding a smile.
"Oh, no, what gave it away? Surely not the crayon marks?"
The laugh quietly, until Myka reaches for Helena's wrist again, and tugs. Helena comes willingly, shoulder pressing hard into Myka's sternum, Helena's arms slipping around her, and she rests her cheek against Myka's collarbone. Helena releases a sigh at the same time as Myka, and Myka smiles, taken by the warmth and rightness of having Helena's body tight against hers again.
She hums softly into Helena's hair, silky strands tickling her nose. "Did I tell you I missed you? Because I missed you."
Helena leans back to cup Myka's face in the gentle way she does, like Myka is something precious. "And I you," she says earnestly, and Myka darts in for another kiss just before Pete hollers from the kitchen, "Chow time!"
"Well, let us make our way to the feast you've prepared," Helena murmurs, rising from the couch with a grace Myka has missed so much. She offers her hand. Myka takes it and rises, hoping the blush isn't too noticeable.
"It's not a feast," she mumbles. "Just lasagna and some dessert."
"Nonsense. I saw some of it while I was talking with my parents, and I declare the meal fit for a king," Helena says, leading the way to the kitchen.
Myka reminds herself that she is brave, that she is confident in their relationship, and stretches out her hand to snag Helena's fingers in between her own. Helena turns and raises a questioning eyebrow, at which Myka simply shrugs. "They know anyway," she offers.
"They do." Helena smiles, and squeezes her hand. They walk into the kitchen hand in hand and Myka is surprised and pleased to find that she is not scared, not even uncomfortable by the looks Pete and Leena give them – first curious, then warm and supportive. It's progress, she thinks, helping Leena finish setting up Christina's highchair. She's not too proud of herself just yet, she knows she has a long way to go – but she's on her way. And that, Myka thinks, looking over at her laughing family, is the important thing.
It's finally warming up in South Dakota – which is to say there's still snow on the ground but it's melting, and the air is brisk instead of freezing-boogers-in-nose cold. Still, Myka is glad to step inside the warmth of Helena's townhouse.
"Hi," she murmurs and smiles at the vibrations of Helena's "hello" against her lips. She pulls back to regard Helena. Myka is dressed in only jeans and a white t-shirt, but Helena looks vaguely formal with her white button down and tight black pants. "Where's Christina?" The little girl usually likes to make her presence known as soon as someone steps foot into her house.
"With Leena," comes the quiet reply. Helena slips the jacket off Myka's shoulders and leads them into the living room, where she pauses abruptly and stares at the coat in her hands. "I should've hung that up," she mutters and turns to do so, only to almost walk into Myka. "I – oh! Oh, goodness, I'm sorry, I didn't -"
Helena is blushing, Myka realizes with a start. "What's the matter?" she asks. "What's going on?"
"I - sit, Myka, please," Helena says, still staring at the jacket. Gently, carefully, Myka puts her hand on the jacket and tugs Helena over to the couch.
"We'll just keep the jacket here," Myka says, trying for reassuring and getting something more worried. Helena looks up sharply at that and then her shoulders go down, and she smiles – it's forced, Myka notes – and sits in the armchair across from Myka. Myka licks suddenly dry lips as anxiety begin to gnaw at her gut.
"Helena," she says softly, "Please tell me what's bothering you."
"Do you think we ought to take a break, from each other?"
Myka's world crashes to a standstill, then in the next breath spins again, and sends Myka careening off the surface. She can't form thoughts but that doesn't stop her throat from working noiselessly as she stares straight ahead.
Helena hasn't looked up from her hands. "If that's what, you know, you -"
"I agree." She doesn't realize it's her who has spoken for a second, though she should have, it really couldn't have been anyone else.
Across from her, Helena's hand tightens briefly on the arm of the chair then relax. "Well, then," Helena says. She stands, a movement that should be graceful but comes off abrupt and Myka doesn't – can't – lift her eyes from the belt Helena has on, buckle partially obscured by the soft white button down she's wearing.
"Myka, I feel I must tell you -"
"No, you're right." Myka fumbles for her jacket. She doesn't look at Helena. "You're protecting yourself, I get that. I can't give you what you need so you need me to go, I get that. She doesn't look at Helena. "I think you're right. I don't deserve either of you and – maybe one day?" Now she looks up, looks straight at H.G. and keeps her breathing even. "Not that I think you should wait for me, but I swear, Helena if you -" Her voice cracks here and she pauses to regroup. "Just a little, maybe? If you wait just a little while, I'll research everything on how to do this, okay, I'll even ask Pete but please let me -"
Myka lets herself look, really look at H.G., for what may be her very last time and H.G. looks horrified.
"Myka," she breathes. "Myka, what are you saying? Myka, no, it's not you, I'm the one who -"
Myka laughs. Really, honestly laughs. "Helena, we both know it's not you – you're perfect."
"I'm not!" She insists, rising from the chair. "My goodness, no I'm not, I've -"
"Helena, I couldn't even tell you I'd miss you!" Helena snaps her jaw shut. "I could tell you, I couldn't tell Christina and I told Pete but you were already in the air and it wasn't Pete who should have known that -"
"But I did know," Helena interrupts quietly. "Myka, I did know." Myka can't speak past the lump in her throat to question it but Helena smiles reassuringly. "Me, with my past and my unsound judgments and you, so kind and so accepting of all I've thrown at you – of course I knew. Do you remember when you were looking after Christina? You were curled so protectively around her, and the two of you looked – of course I knew."
"Christina didn't," Myka says, and it's this that has really been eating at her, she's not capable of being a role model – a parent, good grief, a parent – to a young girl. "She didn't, and I couldn't tell her."
"Myka. Dear Myka, sweet Myka." Helena's voice is low and gentle and not at all what Myka deserves. Helena doesn't seem to care, Helena comes and rubs the nape of Myka's neck, massaging the tense muscles there. "I thought I was being rather noble, you know." Her tone is playful and Myka knows she's trying surprise her into looking up, but Myka keeps her gaze rooted to the floor. "Giving you a graceful way out of a relationship and never mind how brokenhearted I would be never seeing you again." Myka does look up at this, flabbergasted and Helena turns serious instantly. "You must listen to me: the reason – the only reason – I suggested a break is not because I think you're incapable of being there for Christina and I both, it's because I would never want to rope you into something you might regret later."
Myka feels the confusion creep up again. "But I could never regret either of you," she says and Helena captures her mouth in a kiss so unexpected it keeps her off her guard until she's backed against the wall, hands fumbling at Helena's back.
"I love you," Myka mumbles when they break for air, a breath away from Helena's lips. "I love you so, so much."
"Show me," Helena sighs, and Myka tugs Helena towards her and twists them around so that their positions are reversed. She finds she likes the way Helena has to stretch up to reach her mouth, and pushes her harder into the wall. Helena's mouth parts easily under hers, and she wriggles against the hands on her hips, trying to get closer.
She resists when Myka tries to pull away, tugging at Myka's shirt, encouraging her to return. "Go upstairs." Myka's voice is thick and husky and she sees Helena shiver. "We're not – there's a bed and I'm not – our first time won't be against a wall."
Myka's skin feels too tight and her mind is too clouded and she's not sure Helena will listen but then Helena licks her lips and pushes off the wall – hips first, the rest of her body following in a graceful arc. Myka stares, throat dry and she wants to push Helena back against it, wants to swallow the breath that will rush out of Helena, wants, wants, wants.
"Is that how it's to be?" A smirk plays around Helena's lips and Myka loves her voice like this, low and smoky and going straight to Myka's centre. "You, ordering me about?" Helena meanders over and Myka has to remind herself to breathe.
"Um," Myka says.
That's something I would enjoy, I think," Helena confesses, and something in Myka tugs, violently. "I think you would be good at that. But," Helena continues, like Myka's jaw isn't hanging open uselessly. "I think we'd appreciate it more if you let me take care of you, just this once."
Myka melts. "Helena," she says quietly, wonderingly. "Helena," she says again, and cups Helena's cheek, because Helena has always known her so well. Helena presses a warm kiss to the hand against her cheek and steps into Myka's arms. Their mouths meet, and Myka sighs into it, nerves alighting all along her body.
They trip up the stairs, mouths coming together and breaking apart and coming together again, which is dangerous but neither of them care. Helena almost falls through the open door to her bedroom – "How the tables turn," Myka teases, and catches Helena when she launches herself at Myka – they stumble into the room, laughing and breathless and together.
"Helena."
She's lying on her back but she turns a little when she hears her name, nosing against Myka's neck before shifting down in Myka's arms to press a kiss against the hollow of her throat. "Myka," she murmurs, and Myka shivers and shifts, tangling her legs more securely with Helena's. They're still very much feeling the afterglow, and their movements are slow and languid, maximizing the drag of skin on soft skin.
Myka doesn't say anything for a while, just listens to Helena breathe, feels the steady beat of Helena's heart beneath her hand. "You don't mind that I told Pete?"
"About Christina?" Helena asks and Myka nods.
"No," Helena says. "You needed someone to talk to."
"Because I was scared," Myka clarifies, because she can do this now, she can tell Helena things while looking at her (Mostly. She can only really see Helena's head tucked into Myka's chest and, if she peers farther, hints of the porcelain skin she spent an hour discovering.) Helena hums and the vibrations tickle her neck.
"I thought it might be something like that," Helena says, tracing lines down Myka's forearm.
"I'm still kind of scared." She feels Helena tense very slightly and the sheets slide silkily over her body as Myka props herself up on an elbow and tilts Helena's chin up and kisses her hard, saying But I would never leave, and I love you and You're stuck with me now and a million other things without having to fumble with words.
"You make me so happy, you and Christina. And that's that," Myka says, slinging an arm around Helena's waist.
"It is, hm?" Helena brushes a curl off her shoulder, the touch impossibly light.
"Yeah. I'd be Superman if that's what you needed." Myka yawns into the crook of Helena's neck.
"Did I tire you out, darling?" Helena wonders, and Myka can hear the smirk in her voice.
"Shut up," Myka mumbles halfheartedly, pressing her too-hot cheek against Helena's shoulder. She slips into slumber with a smile tugging at her lips, thinking of how many piggyback rides Christina would demand if Myka really could fly.
She's woken a short while later, when Helena slips her arm out from underneath Myka's neck. "Christina's home," is mumbled against her temple, and Myka stretches, letting the pleasant sound of Helena's voice drift over her. "I won't be a second. Let me just say goodbye to Leena, make sure she received her paycheck."
Myka forces her eyes wider, watching Helena reach for a shirt. "I can hang out with Christina while you're doing that," she offers.
Helena pauses, tugging the shirt out of her jeans. Myka wonders if she should tell Helena that she put on the wrong shirt, then decides to remain silent. She likes the way her clothes look on her, slightly wrinkled, slightly baggy. "That would be wonderful, thank you."
"And I'd like to babysit her more," Myka adds, before she forgets. "Alone, so I get used to it and don't freak out over every little thing. Like diapers. Or play-doh."
A warm mouth presses firmly against hers. "You're brilliant," she's told, and "I love you."
"Be there in a se-" and she cuts herself off because did Helena just – ?
She stares, and Helena very briefly looks back at her in the doorway, in Myka's shirt and smiling shyly, which prompts a heartfelt grinning from Myka, one she knows is on the verge of splitting her face in half.
Leena leaves almost immediately, to grab an early dinner with Claudia and Pete and Steve. Christina, once she's properly regaled Myka with the story of her day, then demands to play dress-up. Myka spends the rest of the evening dressing up as Jessie the cowgirl from Toy Story – Christina's latest obsession – and watching Helena attempt to make them a snack. (They had gone to an ice cream parlour, eventually. It seemed the safest option.) It's the best day she's spent in recent memory, and when 8 o'clock rolls around, Myka is still at Helena's, lounging on the sofa and watching Leena and Pete try not to cry.
"It's just such a good movie," Leena mumbles, wiping at her eyes. Myka pats her shoulder awkwardly.
It's not that she's against romantic comedies in any way, it's just that she never expected unflappable Leena to be reduced to a bawling mess over Water for Elephants. Pete beside Leena, eyes suspiciously shiny as well.
"An anti-climatic declaration of love if ever I've seen one," Helena sniffs, handing the bowl of popcorn to Pete, who clutches it like Christina would her stuffed bunny.
"Hey," Myka laughs, nudging Helena's shoulder as she sits. "You told me you loved me and left the room. You have no room to judge here." She appreciates the way both Leena and Pete try to hide the way they almost choked on their drinks.
"On the contrary," Helena says, smirking. "I told you, and you fell asleep."
Leena nearly spews her juice and Pete laughs outright. "That's worse," he says definitively. "That is so much worse.
Myka barely hears them. "You did?" she asks softly, reaching for Helena's hand.
"I did," Helena confirms, and Myka tamps down hard on the urge to kiss her senseless though she knows Helena sees the longing in her, sees the way her eyes flick to Helena's lips and back up to dilated pupils. But she restrains herself, because of Pete and Leena and little Christina, building a Leaning Tower of Pisa out of Lego blocks a few feet away. Helena brushes a kiss across Myka's lips anyway, prompting an 'Ew, gross!' from Pete reminiscent of Christina all those weeks ago. Myka laughs, light and happy, like she could just float away.
Pete opens his mouth but Leena cuts him off preemptively. "Sh!" she demands. "This is the best part!"
Christina ambles over then, abandoning her Leaning Tower (which is more of a Leaning Pyramid, but no one's had the heart to tell her), and stretches out her arms expectantly. Helena swoops her up and kisses her cheek loudly. She lets Christina crawl from her lap into Myka's, hopefully to settle down for the nap she flat out refused to take earlier in the day. Myka grins and strokes Christina's soft soft hair, pressing a kiss to Helena's head when she, too, leans into Myka's side. Their combined weight grounds her and sends her soaring and she doesn't know if she's ever been fit to burst from happiness before.
"Myka?" Christina mumbles her name, half asleep, but determined to see the pretty 'ponies'. (She calls elephants ponies. There is actually no way for this child to get cuter, Myka thinks, though she admits she may be biased.) "Nice movie?"
Myka looks down in surprise, breathes in and holds it. She resolves to ask Helena is she'll ever stop marveling at the freely given love of a child. "Nice," she agrees on an exhale.
Helena lifts her head long enough to squint at Myka. "One day I want you to tell me when on Earth you two developed your own language."
Myka laughs softly, careful not to disturb Leena or Pete, who are watching with rapt attention. "It's not a language if it's only one word." Helena makes a disbelieving noise, mutters something like 'of course it is what do you know' and Myka surrenders with a grin. "I'll tell you," she promises. "Later. We've got time."
Myka feels Helena smile against her shoulder, slow and sure. "All the time in the world," Helena says.
And she's right.