AN: Here's another go-round with a Warehouse 13 fanfic. This one is a bit more comical, though. Mete!
"No," Myka ordered and his eyes blinked pitifully. "No. You know I don't do puppy-dog eyes."
"We're heading to Florida in the morning. I don't want you complaining about a sore stomach the whole way there. A 35 year-old man filled with sugary treats isn't exactly... delectable on a 16-hour drive."
"You're no fun," He pouted and she placed a hand onto the rise of her hip. Knowing he was about to be chewed out by a very pissed-off Myka, he threw both his hands up into the air. "Hey, now. All right. We'll make a trade." As she moved her stance- leaning against the counter now- he knew he had intrigued her interest.
"What kind of trade?"
"I won't eat any cookies if you don't play that terrible music in the car."
"What's wrong with my music?"
"It sounds like spoons having sex!"
"It does not!"
"Does- you know what? Never mind." She stuck her hand out, grabbing his firmly and sealing the deal. "No cookies, then."
"No spoon sex, then."
"It's called instrumental music, Pete."
"Sppoooooonnsss, Myka. Spoons making love." Resisting an eye roll, she let go of his hand and left the room. Pete watched her leave, eyeing her backside as she went. He spun around, giving the room a quick 360 and after assessing that no one was around, stuffed a dozen or so cookies into a Ziploc bag to hide away in his luggage. "Sucker."
Myka was regretting not taking a plane to Florida. She'd opted for a car instead because her father had notified her about the severe red level risk of a terrorist attack. Even though she was nearly thirty years-old and hated the idea of listening to her father, she didn't like lying to him, or anyone for that matter, so she went ahead and drove. Listening to Pete snore for seven hours, she found out, was worse than any plane explosion, though. And the fact that she couldn't listen to her favorite genre of music was eating at her. At least it would have drowned out the sound of her partner snoring. Although, since Pete- the ferret- had chewed apart her iPod, it wouldn't do her much good to whine over spilled milk, or in this case, broken iPods. Another loud snore erupted out of him and he rolled over, pressing his face against her upper arm. Yes, plunging out of the sky at 35,000 feet would be more pleasant. When a spot of moisture- presumably drool- soaked her jacket sleeve, she reached over to shove him back into his seat.
"Pete, move." He snored louder. "Pete. Seriously."
"You need to wake up."
"No," His face burrowed closer, his head resting on her right shoulder.
"Pete, I am warning you. Don't you dare drool on my new-"
"Mmkay." His arms reached out, snuggling against her right limb. Seeing Pete Lattimer treat her like a fluffy pillow and mutter something about comfy sheets was too much. Myka chuckled softly to herself and took the next exit to find a hotel. Leaving Pete asleep in the car, she dragged their suitcases into the hotel room and tossed her onto her bed. "That's man's work, Bering." She shrieked at the sudden appearance of her partner, throwing Pete's suitcase- still in hand- into the air.
"Cookies!" Pete shouted, diving for the precious cargo. The black duffel bag stopped, inches away from his awaiting hands. It hovered for a moment before crashing down onto his head.
"How am I supposed to trust you as my partner when you can't even handle leaving cookies behind?" He could tell she was furious by her wide eyes and the twitching corners of her mouth. Was she really that mad because he'd broken a promise? Then again, this was Myka. She remembered everything he'd ever said to her- including stupid deals about his cookie fetish. He knew he should apologize. But what was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry you hate cookies that much?'
"I guess I'm just a fat kid at heart." Awesome response, Lattimer, he hissed to himself and resisted the urge to smack his self upside the head. Rising from his position on the floor, he scooted out of her way as she headed out to the parking lot. "Where are you going?"
"I need some coffee." She slipped on her sunglasses, keys twirling in her open palm and glancing back at her partner, "I should be back in thirty minutes."
"You're going to leave me here?" Pete acted surprised, but really his mind was kicking into high gear about how he could get back on Myka's good side.
"You'll be okay. Besides," She slipped into her car and revved the engine, "you've got your damn cookies." Pete ignored the harsh tone in her voice and the tiny pebbles that pricked at his legs as she peeled out of the hotel's parking lot. He was too busy calculating the distance to the nearest Best Buy.
When Myka returned, she found the hotel room completely dark. A sense of panic swept over her. You idiot, what were you thinking leaving Pete alone! Now he's been kidnapped and if he doesn't have his cell phone or Farnsworth then there's no way to get a hold of him. And-
"Surprise!" Her partner jumped out from behind the bathroom door. Her keys dropped to the floor and she instinctively tightened the grip on her gun.
"Pete, what on earth are you-"
"I know, I know. You're probably mad…" He trailed off as she narrowed her eyes. Yeah, definitely mad. "But I made it all up to you!"
"How?" He brought out the present from behind his back, wrapped crudely in newspaper. She grinned, quirking an eyebrow up. "Nice wrapping paper."
"Hey, I ran out of money buying the gift. Besides, it's the thought that counts, Bering."
"Pete, you didn't have to buy me anything." She placed her gun back into its holster and shut the hotel room door, flicking on the light. The gift wasn't too heavy and seemed to not be just loose change in a box. She'd learned to check for it after Christmas presents from her Aunt Linda. She popped open the tape on the side and slid the box out. "Pete, why on earth would you buy me a brand new iPod? Are you crazy?" She glanced up at him as he shrugged, a silly grin playing on his features.
"I just thought you'd need a new one since your ferret ate your last one. Besides, this one has cooler features than the other."
"Thanks, Pete," Myka pulled him close and she felt his arms go around her and squeeze tightly. When was the last time she'd had this much physical contact with someone? She couldn't recall, exactly. The pair stepped back nervously. This was new ground, a new territory they hadn't stepped onto yet. It was like testing the water with your toe for the first swim of the year. Little by little, you'd get accustomed to it and eventually, it would become natural. Myka hoped that she received many more of these hugs from Pete in the future.
"Besides, now you can listen to your spoons."
"My music does not sound like spoons making love. If anything, your terrible hip-hop music should be wiped off the face of the planet."
"At least mine doesn't sound like silverware making sexual advances, Myka."
"You're hopeless." She laughed, her eyes crinkling lightly as she did so.
"Spooooons, Myka. Spooooons." If anything, she laughed harder.
AN: I'm quite content with this one. As for the "spoons" part, my friend told me yesterday that some of my instrumental music sounded like silverware banging. My mind was in the gutter, thus bringing upon this. Ha, ha.
You know the drill: read and review!