Flying Monkeys.
Title: Flying Monkeys.
Prompt: Main Lab
Warnings: None
Summary: Next in the 'I accidentally started shipping Magnus and Will' series. I promise, it will get explicit at some point.
There is a time in life when all men realise they are out of their depth with women. For most it occurs early on, as they struggle to understand the importance of Valentine's day, or work in vein to win the affection of their high school crush. For Will Zimmerman this moment occurred at 10:15 AM on a Tuesday morning as Helen passed him a Petri-dish. She still bore a small mark where only two days before they had tested the age of question of what was stronger - a pine tree or a Mercedes. It seemed the pine tree had been triumphant. He had heard her use a few expletives when she discovered the cost of shipping a European made motor from Germany to Canada in less than four days.
They stood side by side dressed in lab coats and goggles, attempting to sample several species of previously undiscovered fauna for use in the ever growing abnormal habitats Magnus loved.
“This one,” she smiled widely as she stroked a leaf of a rubbery plant “is a particular favorite of pan chiroptodytes, the winged monkey. We rescued one in Burundi years ago, and set up a outpost to study them.”
“Winged monkeys?” Will gave her a quizzical look “Are you secretly the wicked witch of the west? Tell the truth, you just made that one up.”
“Oh no, I'm quite serious,” Helen picked up a file and opened it to the relevant page, displaying a photo of her holding the aforementioned creature, it's wing bound, and an infants bottle in it's mouth “Henry wanted to bring a few back, but I think it would have been unfair to cage such creatures. They're even more intelligent than their conventional cousins.”
“Ok, flying monkeys. So where are you keeping the unicorns?”
“Extinct I'm afraid, Will,” she returned to her work, motioning for him to pass her the next sample “and before you ask, it was long before my time.”
“I wasn't gong to ask that.”
“Really?” she shot back, not even looking up from her microscope.
“Ok, so I was,” Will smiled despite her apparent level of irritation, hoping he could resolve her mood with a little good humor “but you can hardly blame me. You've got a story for everything.”
“Not from the middle ages.” Helen thrust another Petri-dish at him.
“Point taken.” he nodded, knowing it was better to concede rather than even attempt to argue with any woman on something as sensitive as their age.
For a while they fell into an uncomfortable silence, each working steadily to compile the samples necessary, moving in unison and yet uncommunicative. Will knew something was bothering her, though she was attempting not to show it. After five minutes the main lab seemed to have shrunk significantly. It took ten minutes for Helen to start sneaking looks at him when he appeared otherwise engaged, like a schoolgirl with a crush. It took twelve for him to look her in the eye and reveal he had noticed.
“Sorry,” Helen sighed “I've been a bit out-of-sorts over the past few days.”
“I know,” Will touched her arm, smiling sympathetically when she didn't recoil “are you going to tell me what's wrong, or shall I just assume it's me?”
“Will,” she shook her head “it's not you, it's me.”
“That's the oldest one in the book, Helen,” he closed the final Petri-dish and placed it away, then started to remove his latex gloves while she watched “you could at least be a bit more creative. And if you think I'm accepting it then you're mad. We can take things slow, do whatever you want, but I.....”
“Will,” Helen held up a hand to halt him, a small smile forming “I just meant I have a headache.”
“Oh.....”
“Oh indeed.” she crossed her arms, the smile widening.
“Okay, I'm going to finish this, then probably die of embarrassment.” his face turned the colour of freshly picked strawberries as she started to laugh, one hand resting on the work bench and the other on her stomach. Will fumbled with the draws as she continued to chuckle, eventually shaking her head and touching the small of his back tenderly before he turned back to her. “You could have stopped me, you know.”
“I know.” Helen tilted her head and regarded him “But you're cute when you're blushing.”
“So, we're... okay?” Will searched her face for something to tell him what she was thinking, drawing a blank as she remained sedate but smiling.
“Yes, Will,” she nodded slowly “we are.”
“Just give me something, anything,” he held up his hands in defeat, half pleading and half joking “please.”
Helen moved forwards and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, eyes closed for the briefest of moments, then turned and left.
“Something more than that?” he called after her. Usually this would have been the moment to go after the girl, it happened in all the movies, catch her in his arms and seal his confession with a kiss. Unfortunately Helen Magnus played by different rules, written in another age, if they were written at all. Will waited for a moment, then retreated to his office to consider his next move.
Prompt: Main Lab
Warnings: None
Summary: Next in the 'I accidentally started shipping Magnus and Will' series. I promise, it will get explicit at some point.
There is a time in life when all men realise they are out of their depth with women. For most it occurs early on, as they struggle to understand the importance of Valentine's day, or work in vein to win the affection of their high school crush. For Will Zimmerman this moment occurred at 10:15 AM on a Tuesday morning as Helen passed him a Petri-dish. She still bore a small mark where only two days before they had tested the age of question of what was stronger - a pine tree or a Mercedes. It seemed the pine tree had been triumphant. He had heard her use a few expletives when she discovered the cost of shipping a European made motor from Germany to Canada in less than four days.
They stood side by side dressed in lab coats and goggles, attempting to sample several species of previously undiscovered fauna for use in the ever growing abnormal habitats Magnus loved.
“This one,” she smiled widely as she stroked a leaf of a rubbery plant “is a particular favorite of pan chiroptodytes, the winged monkey. We rescued one in Burundi years ago, and set up a outpost to study them.”
“Winged monkeys?” Will gave her a quizzical look “Are you secretly the wicked witch of the west? Tell the truth, you just made that one up.”
“Oh no, I'm quite serious,” Helen picked up a file and opened it to the relevant page, displaying a photo of her holding the aforementioned creature, it's wing bound, and an infants bottle in it's mouth “Henry wanted to bring a few back, but I think it would have been unfair to cage such creatures. They're even more intelligent than their conventional cousins.”
“Ok, flying monkeys. So where are you keeping the unicorns?”
“Extinct I'm afraid, Will,” she returned to her work, motioning for him to pass her the next sample “and before you ask, it was long before my time.”
“I wasn't gong to ask that.”
“Really?” she shot back, not even looking up from her microscope.
“Ok, so I was,” Will smiled despite her apparent level of irritation, hoping he could resolve her mood with a little good humor “but you can hardly blame me. You've got a story for everything.”
“Not from the middle ages.” Helen thrust another Petri-dish at him.
“Point taken.” he nodded, knowing it was better to concede rather than even attempt to argue with any woman on something as sensitive as their age.
For a while they fell into an uncomfortable silence, each working steadily to compile the samples necessary, moving in unison and yet uncommunicative. Will knew something was bothering her, though she was attempting not to show it. After five minutes the main lab seemed to have shrunk significantly. It took ten minutes for Helen to start sneaking looks at him when he appeared otherwise engaged, like a schoolgirl with a crush. It took twelve for him to look her in the eye and reveal he had noticed.
“Sorry,” Helen sighed “I've been a bit out-of-sorts over the past few days.”
“I know,” Will touched her arm, smiling sympathetically when she didn't recoil “are you going to tell me what's wrong, or shall I just assume it's me?”
“Will,” she shook her head “it's not you, it's me.”
“That's the oldest one in the book, Helen,” he closed the final Petri-dish and placed it away, then started to remove his latex gloves while she watched “you could at least be a bit more creative. And if you think I'm accepting it then you're mad. We can take things slow, do whatever you want, but I.....”
“Will,” Helen held up a hand to halt him, a small smile forming “I just meant I have a headache.”
“Oh.....”
“Oh indeed.” she crossed her arms, the smile widening.
“Okay, I'm going to finish this, then probably die of embarrassment.” his face turned the colour of freshly picked strawberries as she started to laugh, one hand resting on the work bench and the other on her stomach. Will fumbled with the draws as she continued to chuckle, eventually shaking her head and touching the small of his back tenderly before he turned back to her. “You could have stopped me, you know.”
“I know.” Helen tilted her head and regarded him “But you're cute when you're blushing.”
“So, we're... okay?” Will searched her face for something to tell him what she was thinking, drawing a blank as she remained sedate but smiling.
“Yes, Will,” she nodded slowly “we are.”
“Just give me something, anything,” he held up his hands in defeat, half pleading and half joking “please.”
Helen moved forwards and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, eyes closed for the briefest of moments, then turned and left.
“Something more than that?” he called after her. Usually this would have been the moment to go after the girl, it happened in all the movies, catch her in his arms and seal his confession with a kiss. Unfortunately Helen Magnus played by different rules, written in another age, if they were written at all. Will waited for a moment, then retreated to his office to consider his next move.