FIC: "Extreme Makeover: Sanctuary Edition," Will/Helen UST, Teen and Up
Title: Extreme Makeover: Sanctuary Edition
Author: geonncannon
Pairing: Will/Helen
Word Count: 862
Category: Humor, UST, Fetish fuel?
Spoilers: Hero (I)
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me!
Rating: Teen and Up
Author's Notes: Written for my sanctuary_bingo Round 3 card prompt "Hero (1)." A pertinent image from the scene that inspired the story can be seen here.
Summary: After the dust settles, there's still a tiny matter of a Walter-shaped hole in the Sanctuary wall.
Will flexed his fingers in the work gloves, glancing over at Henry as they rode up together in the elevator. Henry was wearing his typical T-shirt and jeans combo, but today they were complimented by steel-toed boots, a long-sleeved undershirt, and protective goggles. Will wore a heavy plaid shirt unbuttoned over a white T-shirt. He took off his goggles and squinted at the scratched plastic before fitting them back over his glasses. He missed his contacts, but the idea of getting plaster dust underneath one... he could suffer with his glasses for one afternoon.
He sighed and rolled his shoulders to get his muscles ready for what he was about to ask of them. "You know, I studied hard and went to Harvard, aced all of my exams, and got my doctorate... all to end up here, today... doing manual labor."
Henry looked up from playing with his tool belt. "Come on, dude. You saying you're too good for construction?"
"No! I'm saying I'm terrible at it for the same reason I don't want to be an MMA fighter or a high-rise window washer. Some people can do that kind of work, and Will Zimmerman is not one of them. Give me a temperature-controlled room and a stack of books any day." The elevator bell chimed and they stepped out onto the damaged floor. "This kind of thing is... not my forte."
"Ah, you'll be fine. Magnus likes making renaissance men out of the people who work for her. And renaissance women."
"Kate's not here."
"Yeah, but she would have been lurking if I hadn't clarified. Trust me." He looked around as if to make sure she hadn't snuck up while he was talking, and then clapped his hands together as he faced the work that needed to be done. "Okay. Let's clear the area."
"Who made you foreman?"
"I gave the first order. Automatic foreman. You snooze, you loose."
Will rolled his eyes and moved to the couch. He helped Henry lift it and moved it further down the hall where it would be out of the way. They had a small scaffold that would put them at eye-level with the majority of the damage. Henry took off the tarp that had been covering the damage caused by Walter's sudden exit a few days earlier. The irregular hole had been cut into a more workable rectangular shape. Henry braced one hand against the wall and leaned out. The Big Guy had his own scaffold outside, on which he'd stacked bricks and buckets of plaster compound.
"This is an exterior wall, you know. We could have hired outside contractors to take care of it for us."
Helen was the one who answered him, her voice coming from farther down the hall. "Think of it as a character-building exercise, Will."
"I don't think I need this much charac--" The word died in his throat, and Henry turned to see what had choked him.
Helen Magnus wore a white tank top that left her arms and upper chest entirely exposed, her waves of brown hair tamed into a ponytail. Her shirt was tucked into her jeans, a mean feat considering how painted-on the denim appeared to be. Will could see every move of her thighs underneath the skintight material, and he wondered idly what the view was like from the back. She wore a yellow hardhat and, by some sheer miracle, managed to make her protective eyewear look like designer sunglasses. Her tool belt was smaller than Henry's and seemed to hug her hips.
She stopped in front of the scaffold and looked up at them, hands on her tool belt, and smiled. "Problem, Will?"
"No, just surprised. I don't think I've ever seen you wearing shoes that didn't have high heels."
Helen looked down at her yellow work boots and chuckled. "It is a bit odd. I feel somehow shorter." She stretched her arms over her head. Will thought it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen in the Sanctuary. She worked her neck back and forth and hauled herself up onto the scaffold platform with the grace of someone a fraction of her age. "Kate is on her way outside to help with the bricklaying. You should count yourself lucky you got the part of the job on the inside of the building."
She gathered the tarp and turned to toss it onto the floor so it wouldn't tangle around their feet. Will got a look at her from behind and confirmed it would be just as nice to watch her walk away as it was to--
Henry's slap stung Will's upper arm even through the sleeve. "Dude."
"Sorry."
Helen turned and eyed them before deciding to ignore it. She hitched the belt higher on her hips and examined the damage. "Well... might as well get to work."
Work. Manual labor, which meant in a few hours Helen's outfit would be accessorized by a fine sheen of sweat all over her upper chest and arms...
Maybe there was an upside to manual labor after all. He picked up a hammer and waited to be told what to do with it.
Author: geonncannon
Pairing: Will/Helen
Word Count: 862
Category: Humor, UST, Fetish fuel?
Spoilers: Hero (I)
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me!
Rating: Teen and Up
Author's Notes: Written for my sanctuary_bingo Round 3 card prompt "Hero (1)." A pertinent image from the scene that inspired the story can be seen here.
Summary: After the dust settles, there's still a tiny matter of a Walter-shaped hole in the Sanctuary wall.
Will flexed his fingers in the work gloves, glancing over at Henry as they rode up together in the elevator. Henry was wearing his typical T-shirt and jeans combo, but today they were complimented by steel-toed boots, a long-sleeved undershirt, and protective goggles. Will wore a heavy plaid shirt unbuttoned over a white T-shirt. He took off his goggles and squinted at the scratched plastic before fitting them back over his glasses. He missed his contacts, but the idea of getting plaster dust underneath one... he could suffer with his glasses for one afternoon.
He sighed and rolled his shoulders to get his muscles ready for what he was about to ask of them. "You know, I studied hard and went to Harvard, aced all of my exams, and got my doctorate... all to end up here, today... doing manual labor."
Henry looked up from playing with his tool belt. "Come on, dude. You saying you're too good for construction?"
"No! I'm saying I'm terrible at it for the same reason I don't want to be an MMA fighter or a high-rise window washer. Some people can do that kind of work, and Will Zimmerman is not one of them. Give me a temperature-controlled room and a stack of books any day." The elevator bell chimed and they stepped out onto the damaged floor. "This kind of thing is... not my forte."
"Ah, you'll be fine. Magnus likes making renaissance men out of the people who work for her. And renaissance women."
"Kate's not here."
"Yeah, but she would have been lurking if I hadn't clarified. Trust me." He looked around as if to make sure she hadn't snuck up while he was talking, and then clapped his hands together as he faced the work that needed to be done. "Okay. Let's clear the area."
"Who made you foreman?"
"I gave the first order. Automatic foreman. You snooze, you loose."
Will rolled his eyes and moved to the couch. He helped Henry lift it and moved it further down the hall where it would be out of the way. They had a small scaffold that would put them at eye-level with the majority of the damage. Henry took off the tarp that had been covering the damage caused by Walter's sudden exit a few days earlier. The irregular hole had been cut into a more workable rectangular shape. Henry braced one hand against the wall and leaned out. The Big Guy had his own scaffold outside, on which he'd stacked bricks and buckets of plaster compound.
"This is an exterior wall, you know. We could have hired outside contractors to take care of it for us."
Helen was the one who answered him, her voice coming from farther down the hall. "Think of it as a character-building exercise, Will."
"I don't think I need this much charac--" The word died in his throat, and Henry turned to see what had choked him.
Helen Magnus wore a white tank top that left her arms and upper chest entirely exposed, her waves of brown hair tamed into a ponytail. Her shirt was tucked into her jeans, a mean feat considering how painted-on the denim appeared to be. Will could see every move of her thighs underneath the skintight material, and he wondered idly what the view was like from the back. She wore a yellow hardhat and, by some sheer miracle, managed to make her protective eyewear look like designer sunglasses. Her tool belt was smaller than Henry's and seemed to hug her hips.
She stopped in front of the scaffold and looked up at them, hands on her tool belt, and smiled. "Problem, Will?"
"No, just surprised. I don't think I've ever seen you wearing shoes that didn't have high heels."
Helen looked down at her yellow work boots and chuckled. "It is a bit odd. I feel somehow shorter." She stretched her arms over her head. Will thought it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen in the Sanctuary. She worked her neck back and forth and hauled herself up onto the scaffold platform with the grace of someone a fraction of her age. "Kate is on her way outside to help with the bricklaying. You should count yourself lucky you got the part of the job on the inside of the building."
She gathered the tarp and turned to toss it onto the floor so it wouldn't tangle around their feet. Will got a look at her from behind and confirmed it would be just as nice to watch her walk away as it was to--
Henry's slap stung Will's upper arm even through the sleeve. "Dude."
"Sorry."
Helen turned and eyed them before deciding to ignore it. She hitched the belt higher on her hips and examined the damage. "Well... might as well get to work."
Work. Manual labor, which meant in a few hours Helen's outfit would be accessorized by a fine sheen of sweat all over her upper chest and arms...
Maybe there was an upside to manual labor after all. He picked up a hammer and waited to be told what to do with it.