Chapter Text
Pete sat up with a jolt—cold sweat immediately springing across the back of his neck. Someone was in the house. He had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room the second they finished dinner. He and Steve had gotten back from a particularly brutal snag in Athens, and between the jet lag and the soreness lingering and tugging at his muscles from getting slammed against a wall at the Parthenon, it took all his energy just to make it through dinner. He had finished eating and collapsed fully clothed on the couch, unable to fathom the idea of actually climbing the stairs to his room. Now though, his mind was on high alert. The jostling of the back door had woken him, and now he could hear hurried rustling coming from the kitchen; whoever was in the house was in a hurry, all the noise they were making indicating that they weren’t seeking to be covert with their breaking and entering
He grabbed his tesla off the floor, only vaguely registering that he probably shouldn’t just leave it lying around like that, yet also being thankful that he had it nearby. He slowly crept through the hall, edging quietly towards the kitchen, gun in front of him, poised and ready to strike if necessary. As he peered around the door frame, he saw the back patio door flung wide open, but the kitchen remained completely dark, save for the light from the open refrigerator door glinting off the counters, casting odd shadows around the room. Pete registered a pair of feet under the door of the fridge, but otherwise the mystery burglar was hidden, completely bent double into the open cavern of the fridge. What the hell? What kind of person breaks in to steal food? What was he dealing with, the Grinch? Gripping his tesla a little tighter, he calmly, yet firmly called into the darkness, “Alright, hands off the cold cuts. Hands up, turn around and face me.”
He heard an exasperated sigh rebound through the quiet space, one that sounded vaguely familiar but wouldn’t register in his mind that was too focused on the possible danger of what was unfolding before him. “I’m serious kitchen crazy, hands up.”
“Oh honestly…”
Wait…that voice, realization careened through Pete’s brain, “What the hell? HG?”
“Yes Pete.” Helena unfolded herself from her stooped position, and turned towards the entryway, hands up in mock seriousness, “At ease Agent Lattimer, or are you going to shoot me for stealing your food?”
“What? No,” he lowered his tesla to his side and stepped further into the room. ‘HG, it’s two in the morning, what are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.”
“I gathered as much from all the gun pointing.” Helena leaned back into the fridge with a roll of her eyes. Pete heard jars jostling against her hands, until an exclamation of “ah ha!” resounded from the fridge. “What I am doing is pilfering your chips and salsa Pete, along with,” she stood back up and jiggled a half full container of orange juice in front of him, “your orange juice.”
Pete had the momentary thought that maybe HG had in fact lost it again, “Oooook, that’s fine, but why?”
Helena shut the door, dowsing them into darkness once again, save for the moonlight shining through the windows, “Because my wife apparently has been struck by a massive need for such things before she can go to bed, and our refrigerator is woefully empty of such essentials.”
Pete laughed, “Ah, Mykes is getting hit with the cravings, huh?”
A smile that warmed Pete’s heart lit up Helena’s face, “Yes, it would appear so.”
As Pete took in the image before him, HG Wells standing in her pajamas, arms full of food, wedding ring clinking against the orange juice container, Pete realized he’d never seen her look so domesticated, or so happy. “Sorry I almost shot you—I thought you were someone breaking in.”
“Quite alright. Technically I was breaking in, and it is rather late, I should’ve tried to be more quiet.”
“Man, Myka would have killed me if I’d tesla’d you.”
A soft sigh of laughter came from Helena’s lips, “Indeed. So it’s a good thing you didn’t.”
A silence settled over them, Pete shifted from foot to foot, “Hey, do you want some help carrying all that back over? You probably shouldn’t leave the pregnant lady waiting, and I doubt she’d be happy with you if you dropped her food all over the backyard.”
“On that count you are correct, but I should be able to manage on my own. Thank you Pete.” She turned back towards the patio door, but Pete’s voice stalled her steps, “HG…”
She looked over her shoulder at Pete who was leaning on his palms against the island, “Yes, Pete?”
“Thank you…for…for taking care of her.”
There’s that smile again Pete thought, that special, only about Myka, smile, “You’re very welcome. Taking care of her is the greatest thing that I do. Good night Pete.”
He returned her smile, “Good night HG.” As he watched her walk out the back door he was struck by just how much this woman had changed, and how deeply she loved his partner. Never in a million years could he have imagined that the woman who once left them unconscious in a vault in the middle of Egypt would become an irreplaceable part of their family, let alone be Myka’s wife. No, he can’t say he ever expected to see HG Wells bringing Myka food in the middle of the night because their baby was keeping her up with cravings. Man, Pete thought as he climbed the stairs to his room, endless wonder indeed.