Chapter Text
Steve woke up to the smell of pancakes. Leena was getting an early start to the day, which meant Artie was probably on his way over with a case. He sighed, closed his eyes again, squeezed them tight and then opened, and then reluctantly moved his legs off the side of the bed and sat up. He closed his eyes again and rubbed them. Time for a shower.
He could hear Myka moving around in her room, and the faint traces of steam coming out of the shared bathroom meant she had already showered. Knowing Myka, she already had her entire day laid out. Him and Pete just could not function like that, but he figured he was better off than Pete. There were no signs of life coming from the other’s room at the end of the hall.
Waiting for the water to heat up again only took a minute, but Steve found himself staring into the mirror for longer. His eyes barely registered anything in the reflection but themselves, looking back at each other, asking the question he asked himself every day. He already knew the answer. No, he would not act on his feelings he had for Pete.
Pete, by all accounts, was the very definition of heterosexual, and was clearly very comfortable in his sexuality. He had dated Kelly for god’s sake. But Steve couldn’t help but linger on one thing. When Pete offered to take his shirt off for Steve to look at anytime he wanted, he wasn’t lying.
Steve closed his eyes and shook his head, breaking the spell. You need to stop dwelling, he said to himself. It’s not going to happen. Move on.
He showered, and walked back down the hall to his room. He could hear Myka downstairs talking to Artie, who must have arrived while he was showering.
“Since there’s only one artifact, I was hoping I could take the day off? I just had some things I need to get done. I need to run to the hardware store, and I have a package to mail to my dad. Last mission in France I found a copy of Les Misérables I know he doesn’t have.” Typical Myka.
“What do you mean, you ‘know’ he doesn’t have it?” Artie’s voice was low, and Steve knew exactly the face he was making. Well, not necessarily the whole face. He knew exactly what Artie’s eyebrows looked like at this moment. “Is it just rare, or does it belong in the warehouse? Because I know Victor Hugo, and if that book is even artifact adjacent then we need to…” Steve shut the door to his room, missing the last part of the sentence. Or not even necessarily last, knowing Artie that was probably just the beginning of a sentence, beginning an entire lecture. He smirked to no one, just glad he wasn’t on the receiving end.
He fumbled through his dresser, grabbing clothes. As he dropped his towel, the door busted open.
“Jinksy, Artie’s ready to debrief!” Pete’s mouth shut and turned into a massive grin as Steve snatched the towel off the floor and held it in front of him, “But it looks like you’ve already been debriefed”
“Oh ha-ha” Steve replied, “Listen, it’s too early for puns. Just. Get out. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
Pete’s face suddenly turned serious, “Steve, it is never, ever, too early for puns.” He smile again, then backed out and shut the door. Steve let out a breath of relief, and put the towel back down. He got dressed quickly and headed downstairs to meet the others.
“And that is why the original copy of Les Misérables is locked away in the Warehouse.” It seemed Artie had just finished up the lecture. Myka, as always, looked genuinely interested, while Pete was stuffing a bite of pancake in his mouth, clearly before he had even finished the first one.
“As far as I know Artie, it’s not, but I’ve been proven wrong before.” Myka replied. She saw Steve coming and smiled. “Morning!”
Pete looked up too, and said something that could have been “Good Morning” but sounded more like “gmm mnnoohhng” and winked. Pete hadn’t even tried to get ready for the day, in fleece pajama bottoms and t-shirt, and his hair a mess. That almost made it worse. Steve could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his head, and he urged it to stay away. Just a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of a china cabinet showed he wasn’t even near successful.
“Here’s some pancakes, Steve!” And there was Leena, swooping in the save the day like always.
“They look delicious Leena, thanks.” Steve took the plate and sat down quickly, trying to hide his face, which he knew was beet red.
“Steve, what’s wrong? Your aura is a little off today.” Okay, maybe Leena wasn’t saving the day.
“Nothing!” He winced after saying it. He realized too late that it was a little too quick and a little too loud. “I had some bad dreams last night, maybe that’s it?” Leena smiled, clearly satisfied with his answer, and walked back to the kitchen.
Artie cleared his throat. “Who wants to go to Greece?” He looked around at the three agents. Pete was adding more pancake to his already full mouth with one hand, while raising the other. Artie looked over his glasses at Myka. “I don’t want to send all three of you, but I do want you guys to go in a pair.”
“Like I said, I have a couple things I need to get done,” Myka said.
Pete swallowed his pancakes, began to choke, and started sputtering into a glass of milk. Once he recovered he looked at Myka. “Awww, Mykes, but I want to go to Italy.”
“You’re thinking of Rome, Pete.”
“Same thing!”
“Nope, they are separated by a sea.”
“Are you sure?”
“What about you Steve?” Artie said, looking over his glasses at him, interrupting Pete and Myka’s bickering. “I know you normally go out in the field with Claudia, but since she’s visiting Joshua, we’d have to mix things up.”
“Yeah, I’ll go to Greece,” Steve said.
“Even though you’ll be stuck with the child over there?” Myka gestured towards Pete, who put on a wide grin, showing pancake still stuck in his teeth. On anyone else, Steve would find that annoying, but with Pete, well, it was Pete.
“I’ll find a way to manage,” he found himself saying. “Maybe I can put him on a leash, all the cool parents are doing it these days.” Myka and Pete both laughed, Pete sarcastically, while Artie ignored everything that was happening.
“Okay, then it’s decided, Pete and Steve will go to Greece.” Artie opened up the folder in front of him.
“Yeah, boy’s trip, woo-hoo!” Pete stood up and reached over the table to give Steve a high five. Even with just that instant of hand contact, Steve could feel his stomach start to spin. “So what’s up Artie, what are we looking for across the ol’ pond?”
“I’m not really, sure, the fish got a ping from Patras, one of the cities over there. There’s been a string of deaths with unusual circumstances. Several people have been found dead of dehydration, in their own homes, with readily available water. Except for the first recorded death, Marilyn Hannah, an American tourist, who was found dead in her hotel room, but still from dehydration, with the water at the hotel functioning perfectly”
“Ahhh, so we’re looking for some sort of desert artifact,” Pete said, putting on a detective’s voice.
“That’s for you to find out, over there. With the death of an American tourist, you should be able to work with the local police. Here, take this file, your flight leaves in 2 hours.” Artie grabbed his briefcase and walked out, yelling over his shoulder, “Leena, you know I’m on a diet!”
Steve started to dig in to his pancakes, but he could feel Pete looking at him instead of the file. At least, he thought he felt it.