Warehouse 13 Fic: Still Learning
Still Learning
Fewthistle
Warehouse 13
Myka/H.G.
Words: 942 1/1
Disclaimer: They are not mine. Little in this world is. If they were, I would have treated them far more kindly.
A/N: Just a one-shot, fluff piece to amuse myself. I cannot see Helena not being intellectually curious about the world in which she finds herself, but I tried to temper that a bit. Hopefully I succeeded. If not, no harm. Back to By the Pricking of My Thumbs this weekend.
Un-beta’d, so all mistakes and errors mine.
The quote at the end has been left in its original form.
“Helena, it’s almost midnight. Everyone’s gone to bed. What’re you doing?” Myka asked, bending over the back of the sofa to peer over Helena’s shoulder at the laptop computer with which Claudia had recently presented her, insisting that if H.G. was going to live in the 21st century, she needed to know how to google.
“Catching up. Get bronzed for a century and one misses out on the decline and fall of Western civilization,” Helena replied wearily, her hand automatically rising to gently cover Myka’s as it rested on the back of the couch. “Mr. Gibbon should be grateful he lived in the 18th century and merely had to chronicle the collapse of Rome. Just the first half of the 20th century had enough chaos, mayhem and bloodshed to constitute hundreds of volumes and several lifetimes of work.”
“Yeah, you know, when Claudia gave you that thing and showed you how to use it, I was afraid you were going to do this,” Myka sighed, squeezing Helena’s hand and coming around to drop gracefully onto the couch beside her. She settled comfortably against Helena, shoulders, arms and legs touching.
“Do what precisely?” H.G. inquired, one eyebrow quirking challengingly.
“Obsess. Over wars and diseases, and the moral decline of civilization,” Myka stated matter-of-factly, tilting her head to rest it on Helena’s shoulder.
“You must admit, my darling, that a great many wars and a great deal of decline has occurred in the past hundred years,” Helena answered defensively, fingers moving with impressive skill over the keyboard of her new toy.
Myka studied in silence the webpage Helena was perusing, a catalog of major world events of the 20th century, including two world wars, several other large military encounters, several attempts at genocide, not to mention drought, famine and plague. She glanced up to meet Helena’s accusing stare.
Myka held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “It wasn’t me, I swear,” she admonished, “so stop giving me that ‘you screwed up the world look’.”
“I didn’t say it was your fault, love,” Helena soothed, “I was merely making the point that I was correct in my assessment of the state the world has come to since I stepped into the bronzer.”
“Give me that,” Myka responded, making a grab for the computer, pulling it swiftly from Helena’s lap. Her fingers flew over the keys. She scrolled down the list of search items and clicked on a link, a satisfied smile on her face as she plunked the netbook rather unceremoniously back on Helena’s lap.
“There. Read that,” Myka ordered, smirking slightly as one hand slid down to trail along the smooth line of Helena’s thigh as the other woman did as commanded.
“What is this?” Helena asked, moving the cursor to scroll down the incredibly long list on the page, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to ignore the feel of Myka’s hand on her leg.
“Wars of the 15th and 16th centuries, during the height of the Renaissance, considered by many to be the cumulative point in human history. And yet, there are at least twice, if not three times as many wars and altercations between countries as the 20th century,” Myka pronounced a trifle smugly, although whether it was from the well-made point or the slight hitch in Helena’s breathing as her fingers slid along the inside of Helena’s thighs was debatable.
“And has there been another Renaissance during this past century as well, to balance out all the murder and mayhem?” Helena inquired innocently, trying to control her reaction to the feel of Myka’s hand as it inched ever upward in its quest.
“Well, not exactly. But there have been tremendous technological advances, advances in human rights,” Myka murmured, leaning over to brush the tip of her nose along the slender column of Helena’s throat, her breath warm against warm skin.
Her mouth found Helena’s pulse point, the steady flutter under her lips growing faster, the rasp of Helena’s breathing more shallow.
“Still, one has to consider,” Helena began, her words drying up as Myka turned slightly, her hand now tucked up quite nicely under the edge of the computer, resting quite comfortably between Helena’s legs. Myka’s trailed her lips back up the length of Helena’s neck, nuzzling into the fine hairs behind her ear, finding that most sensitive of spots. The one that made Helena forget her name.
“Consider what?” Myka whispered, moving her hand that final inch so that her fingers were pressed against the inner seam of Helena’s pants; against the incredible warmth. She felt Helena shift forward, a soft moan escaping her as she pressed into Myka’s hand.
“Hmmm?” Helena murmured rather incoherently.
“Consider what?” Myka chuckled softly, as ever, pleased and amazed at the effect she had on the world’s most self-sufficient woman.
“Um. Context,” Helena finally managed to breathe, her head tilted to the side to allow Myka better access. “There were no weapons of mass destruction capable of…ohhh, yes, right there….as I was saying, nothing capable of destroying the planet in one fell swoop.”
“You know, you’re very sexy when you’re being all professorial,” Myka said huskily, her mouth finally finding Helena’s, stopping any reply that might have come.
“Only when I’m being professorial?” Helena asked, lips still brushing lightly along Myka’s.
“Especially then. In fact, I think I could definitely use a private tutoring session. Upstairs. Now,” Myka confirmed, slipping her hand from between Helena’s thighs and rising smoothly from the couch, chuckling at Helena’s bereft moan.
“The things I do in the name of academic excellence,” Helena muttered, tossing the laptop onto the couch and following Myka’s shapely ass up the stairs. “Ancora imparo, indeed.”
Fewthistle
Warehouse 13
Myka/H.G.
Words: 942 1/1
Disclaimer: They are not mine. Little in this world is. If they were, I would have treated them far more kindly.
A/N: Just a one-shot, fluff piece to amuse myself. I cannot see Helena not being intellectually curious about the world in which she finds herself, but I tried to temper that a bit. Hopefully I succeeded. If not, no harm. Back to By the Pricking of My Thumbs this weekend.
Un-beta’d, so all mistakes and errors mine.
The quote at the end has been left in its original form.
“Helena, it’s almost midnight. Everyone’s gone to bed. What’re you doing?” Myka asked, bending over the back of the sofa to peer over Helena’s shoulder at the laptop computer with which Claudia had recently presented her, insisting that if H.G. was going to live in the 21st century, she needed to know how to google.
“Catching up. Get bronzed for a century and one misses out on the decline and fall of Western civilization,” Helena replied wearily, her hand automatically rising to gently cover Myka’s as it rested on the back of the couch. “Mr. Gibbon should be grateful he lived in the 18th century and merely had to chronicle the collapse of Rome. Just the first half of the 20th century had enough chaos, mayhem and bloodshed to constitute hundreds of volumes and several lifetimes of work.”
“Yeah, you know, when Claudia gave you that thing and showed you how to use it, I was afraid you were going to do this,” Myka sighed, squeezing Helena’s hand and coming around to drop gracefully onto the couch beside her. She settled comfortably against Helena, shoulders, arms and legs touching.
“Do what precisely?” H.G. inquired, one eyebrow quirking challengingly.
“Obsess. Over wars and diseases, and the moral decline of civilization,” Myka stated matter-of-factly, tilting her head to rest it on Helena’s shoulder.
“You must admit, my darling, that a great many wars and a great deal of decline has occurred in the past hundred years,” Helena answered defensively, fingers moving with impressive skill over the keyboard of her new toy.
Myka studied in silence the webpage Helena was perusing, a catalog of major world events of the 20th century, including two world wars, several other large military encounters, several attempts at genocide, not to mention drought, famine and plague. She glanced up to meet Helena’s accusing stare.
Myka held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “It wasn’t me, I swear,” she admonished, “so stop giving me that ‘you screwed up the world look’.”
“I didn’t say it was your fault, love,” Helena soothed, “I was merely making the point that I was correct in my assessment of the state the world has come to since I stepped into the bronzer.”
“Give me that,” Myka responded, making a grab for the computer, pulling it swiftly from Helena’s lap. Her fingers flew over the keys. She scrolled down the list of search items and clicked on a link, a satisfied smile on her face as she plunked the netbook rather unceremoniously back on Helena’s lap.
“There. Read that,” Myka ordered, smirking slightly as one hand slid down to trail along the smooth line of Helena’s thigh as the other woman did as commanded.
“What is this?” Helena asked, moving the cursor to scroll down the incredibly long list on the page, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to ignore the feel of Myka’s hand on her leg.
“Wars of the 15th and 16th centuries, during the height of the Renaissance, considered by many to be the cumulative point in human history. And yet, there are at least twice, if not three times as many wars and altercations between countries as the 20th century,” Myka pronounced a trifle smugly, although whether it was from the well-made point or the slight hitch in Helena’s breathing as her fingers slid along the inside of Helena’s thighs was debatable.
“And has there been another Renaissance during this past century as well, to balance out all the murder and mayhem?” Helena inquired innocently, trying to control her reaction to the feel of Myka’s hand as it inched ever upward in its quest.
“Well, not exactly. But there have been tremendous technological advances, advances in human rights,” Myka murmured, leaning over to brush the tip of her nose along the slender column of Helena’s throat, her breath warm against warm skin.
Her mouth found Helena’s pulse point, the steady flutter under her lips growing faster, the rasp of Helena’s breathing more shallow.
“Still, one has to consider,” Helena began, her words drying up as Myka turned slightly, her hand now tucked up quite nicely under the edge of the computer, resting quite comfortably between Helena’s legs. Myka’s trailed her lips back up the length of Helena’s neck, nuzzling into the fine hairs behind her ear, finding that most sensitive of spots. The one that made Helena forget her name.
“Consider what?” Myka whispered, moving her hand that final inch so that her fingers were pressed against the inner seam of Helena’s pants; against the incredible warmth. She felt Helena shift forward, a soft moan escaping her as she pressed into Myka’s hand.
“Hmmm?” Helena murmured rather incoherently.
“Consider what?” Myka chuckled softly, as ever, pleased and amazed at the effect she had on the world’s most self-sufficient woman.
“Um. Context,” Helena finally managed to breathe, her head tilted to the side to allow Myka better access. “There were no weapons of mass destruction capable of…ohhh, yes, right there….as I was saying, nothing capable of destroying the planet in one fell swoop.”
“You know, you’re very sexy when you’re being all professorial,” Myka said huskily, her mouth finally finding Helena’s, stopping any reply that might have come.
“Only when I’m being professorial?” Helena asked, lips still brushing lightly along Myka’s.
“Especially then. In fact, I think I could definitely use a private tutoring session. Upstairs. Now,” Myka confirmed, slipping her hand from between Helena’s thighs and rising smoothly from the couch, chuckling at Helena’s bereft moan.
“The things I do in the name of academic excellence,” Helena muttered, tossing the laptop onto the couch and following Myka’s shapely ass up the stairs. “Ancora imparo, indeed.”