Title: The Glasses Make the Agent
Disclaimer: Not mine, which makes me inordinately sad.
Notes: for mynameisme91 because she prompted me to write it: Myka needs new glasses and Pete, Claud and HG go with her as fashion consultants. Not entirely sure this was what you were after Court, but it's what happened all the same... The quote is not mine and a cookie goes to the first person (cept Court, cause she knows) to get it without googling.
Spoilers: Just show stuff. Takes place in a world where the events of Buried and it's subsequent fall out did not occur (ie. it's in happy!verse)
He would never admit it, but Pete was most definitely the mother hen of the group. It was he who made sure Claudia took a break in between her long hours at the warehouse and her nights studying. It was he who took the weekend and holiday shifts so Myka had the chance to visit with her parents, whether she felt like it or not. It was Pete who would quietly and subtly (for he was, at times, capable of such things) take Artie aside and suggest that a few gentle words would go a long way next time. And, though it had never been proven, everyone was sure it was he that made sure the British treats and pastries made their way into the kitchen on HG's darker days. He covered it all up with his bravado and juvenile humour, but his heart would always shine through, and it shone brightest for these people for whom he cared so much.
Which is why Myka should not have been so surprised that he was hovering so incessantly.
Gritting her teeth she returned her attention to her book, focusing carefully on the little black letters that were the building blocks of an entire world into which she was desperately trying to escape. It was no use, she knew, because no matter how hard she focused, she could not eliminate the Pete shaped blur bouncing around in the corner of her vision.
"Myka," he said, tapping her on the shoulder. "Myka. Mykes. Myyyyyyykes."
Myka blinked but refused to answer.
His hands started tapping out a rhythm on her shoulder blades, his voice starting to sing. "My-ka, My-kaaaaa, My-ka, M-M-M-Myka... you know I won't stop Mykes, give in already..."
She turned the page.
She jumped from her seat, Pete's voice still ringing in her ear from where he had shouted. "What the hell, Pete? What do you want?"
Pete smiled and calmly sat down on the lounge next to her, his manner now as polite as if she had asked him to join her for tea. "Myka, we need to talk."
She glared at him. "Pete, I'm reading."
"Yes I can see that. And what, pray tell, are you reading?" he asked, pulling the book non-too gently from her grasp.
Her hands followed his, reluctant to give up her novel so easily - especially as it was Helena had given her and the glee of receiving personal book recommendations from the H.G. Wells had not yet worn off.
Pete watched her movements, seeing her thoughts clearly cross her eyes. She was considering tackling him for it, he knew - and he also knew that she could likely take him - but he was pleased to see her expression slide into one of begrudging acceptance. She didn't want to have this conversation with him, but knew that it would probably be easier (not to mention shorter) if she simply had it done with.
"Pete, it's fine, just leave it alone," she said, shaking her head.
Pete looked at her disbelievingly, "It's not fine, Mykes. It's affecting you, and I know it is cause you're getting those little wrinkly things next to your eyes."
Myka resisted the urge to touch her face. "Pete -"
"Now look, I know HG thinks that's cute and all - and she should know, she's the one doing all the looking these days..."
"And what about that, huh? That's got to be killing you right? Not to be doing the looking. She's hot stuff, Mykes, you got yourself a looker, and you can't even be doing the lookin'."
Myka felt a blush settle across her face at his words. "Pete -"
"So if nothing else, that should have you listening to me right?"
Myka grabbed his hand, pulling his attention away from his meddling ramble and back to her. "Pete. Listen to me, I'm fine. Would I be sitting here reading if I wasn't?" He squinted at her, receiving an eye roll in return.
"I tell you what," he said, standing and taking two small steps away from her, holding the book up to the page she had been reading. "If you can read this without your head exploding, I'll leave you alone."
Myka fixed him with a look she hoped wasn't too smug and let the words fall easily from her mouth.
"I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle, something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous, that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream."
Pete was shocked. He hadn't expected that. "Ah..."
A scoff from the doorway broke his shock and he looked up to see Claudia dragging herself up and off the frame. "Dude. She's read it before. Probably before she could walk."
Myka looked up at him, having enough good grace to look slightly guilty, as Claudia pole vaulted the back of the lounge to collapse into the cushions. "Face it Myka. You need new glasses."