AN: People seemed to put this story on story alert, so I guess I might as well make this a two-shot. Haha.
as he spoke, he spoke ordinary words
Although they did not feel
For I felt what I had not felt before
You'd swear those words could heal
And as I looked up into those eyes
His vision borrows mine
And I know he's no stranger
For I feel I've held him for all of time
Ordinary Day- Vanessa Carlton
"You made a promise that you wouldn't play your music, though." Pete stuck out his lip and his partner rolled her eyes.
"What does it matter? You're always breaking your promises, anyway."
"Yeah, but I'm serious this time. I don't want to listen to this."
"I hate riding in silence."
"Then let me play some of my-"
"No!" Pete shrunk back into his seat, eyes glancing over at her repeatedly.
"Jeez, Myka. All right. I don't see what the problem is with my taste in music." She barked out a laugh and he winced.
"Pete, your music consists of talking about shaking it on the dance floor and dropping it like it's hot, so I would have to say that my case wins."
"When did I sue you?" She shakes her head, the corner of her mouth curling up.
"You're in desperate need of some wrinkle cream." He stuck his tongue out and she punched him in the arm. "And a travel-friendly bottle of Aleve, because you keep punching me!"
"How did you ever survive in government training?" He rolled his eyes and settled back into his seat, eyeing the road ahead. Later that evening, on their way back from Florida, they stopped in at a little Italian restaurant before they switched drivers.
"They don't have tacos." Myka stared at Pete incredulously.
"It's an Italian restaurant."
"Well, Dairy Queen is an ice cream shop but they serve cheeseburgers."
"There's a difference between a restaurant and a fast food joint."
"Then go look up restaurant in the dictionary, Miss Know-It-All! Restaurant: an establishment where meals are served-"
"Can I take your orders?" A tiny voice piped in and the two agents turned to see a teenage girl, clearly nervous from their heated argument, standing ready with a pen and pad. Myka noticed her fingers trembling slightly.
"Yeah," Pete grinned and heaved the menu up to his face, "I'll have the…." He rambled off several items from the menu as Myka bit her tongue, watching the girl's eyes widen as he listed choice after choice.
"And you, miss?"
"A salad, Italian dressing, no tomatoes and a bowl of your soup of the day." The waitress nodded, smiled, promised the rolls would be out in a minute, and hurried to the next table.
"A salad and soup? You realize we're eating dinner, right?"
"Who are you smuggling food to? Several third-world countries?" They barked at each other in unison. After being caught off-guard, they stared embarrassingly at one another for a few seconds before muttering a quick apology. Myka rattled her foot against the table's stand while Pete drummed his palms to the beat inside his head.
"Are you trying to play footsies with me?" Pete gasped sarcastically and fluttered his hand in front of his chest. "I'm so touched!"
"You've been rubbing against my leg this entire time. I think that would count as footsies. I must say, you're very forthcoming. And not even a drop of alcohol in you…"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Pete. I've been kicking the table's pole."
"AKA my leg. You're a pervert, Bering." He was laughing but she found none of it funny. She just wanted to crawl into her bed at Leena's and collapse into a deep sleep- as if that ever happened. Myka brought her heel back and dug it into his knee cap. She smiled sweetly as he winced, his face scrunched up and reminding her of the ferret, Pete.
"Here's your food." The waitress settled the plates onto the table and was gone within the blink of an eye. Myka eyed her meal, making sure there were no spit marks or cyanide pills shoved in between the leaves of her salad.
"Look, here's how you do it," Pete poked a spoonful of soup into her face and prodded it at her closed mouth. "It won't kill you."
"Phetgtatwayfmme." She spoke through her clenched teeth, sending daggers his way to notify him to stop acting like a three year-old's parent. She could feed herself, damn it.
"Myka, here comes the train!" Pete started making train sounds, bringing the spoon closer and closer. "Choo-choo! Choo-choo!"
"Choooooo-chooooo! All aboard!" Myka flung her hand out, slapping the silverware away from her face and watched as the spoon flipped out of Pete's hand, tossing over and over again in midair before sending the soup all over his face with a huge splat. She gasped, picking up a napkin subconsciously and leaning over the table to clean the mess off of him.
"You." She swallowed, hoping he would understand she hadn't meant to fling the soup onto him. "Are in serious trouble." His hand shot down, grabbing a fistful of barbeque and throwing it at her. The food hit her square in the chest, little bits bouncing up to pepper her face and hair. Without missing a beat, she burst out laughing and tossed two handfuls of lettuce and dressing at him. As he was collecting other items to litter her with, she slipped out of the booth and ran for the door. Pete slid out right on her heels and dug into his pocket, dumping two twenties onto the table and grabbed some barbeque to continue the food fight with his partner. "Keep the change!"
AN: I don't know if I can go on. How can I wait until next summer? I won't be able to handle it. I'll have to make up my own episodes in my head to deal with Pete's absence in my life. Even re-watching every episode on Hulu can't help me. Haha.
So ready for the second season!