Myka slid carefully out of bed, buttoning up the shirt she found discarded nearby in a heap as she regarded that pool of black hair on the pillow beside hers. The agent didn't think she had ever seen the time traveler sleep so soundly--a gift she was more than happy to give, even if it probably meant accidentally robbing the other occupants of the bed and breakfast of the same luxury. She grinned to herself, brazenly unapologetic, and committed to memory the vision of Helena in her bed, cocooned in her blankets, before padding for the door.
Figuring she'd let her sleep a bit longer, Myka decided first thing's first and jogged as quietly as she could down the hallway to the bathroom, tugging the shirt down in a valiant effort to cover herself. It mostly failed, but there were more pressing concerns. As she approached the bathroom door, the grin slid from her face at the sound of running water.
She pounded both as quietly and as emphatically as she could on the door. "Pete!" she hissed.
The tap turned off. "I'll be out in a minute!" her partner called back, and she let out a hearty groan. Myka was instantly and infinitely glad no one else was awake yet to see her half naked and crossing her legs locked outside the bathroom.
"Pete, hurry up!" she hissed again, and then was forced to content herself with shifting her weight from foot to foot.
He said a minute, but she quickly found out that what Pete had really meant was that he was going to make her suffer out there for as long as humanly possible. It felt like ages later when he finally opened the door, wearing that cheeky little grin and a wet towel around his neck.
Myka would have bowled right past him, but he was blocking the door. She pursed her lips and tried her best to glare at him. She guessed the effect was decidedly dampened by her urgent dancing on the spot.
"Whassamatter?" he said, oozing feigned innocence. "You need something?"
She scowled at him in lieu of punching his shoulder--her hands were still presently occupied with trying to tug her shirt down further. "Pete, get out of the way!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you need to use the bathroom?" he jerked a thumb back, but didn't budge from the doorway. In fact, he leaned against it as nonchalant and infuriating as could be. "Boy, this is weird, huh. Talk about the ol' switcheroo. We pull a Freaky Friday, Mykes?"
"Pete," she repeated again, but there was no reasoning him out of his goading. If he kept her from getting her girlfriends's tea ready in time for her to wake up...
"She's pretty loud, yanno. Like, keep-the-whole-place-up-all-night-so-I-get-to-the-bathroom-before-you loud." There was no helping it. She punched him now, and he rubbed at his shoulder more out of habit than any real pain. "Ow! Hey, I'm just saying, you sure got some moves there, tiger."
Myka gave him what he wanted and groaned in exasperation. Fit to burst, she would let him have this one. "Pete, please, I really gotta--"
"Say no more!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up. The gesture of surrender looked suspiciously victorious. "I read ya loud and clear. Congrats on the sex--" he finally, blessedly, began to move out of the way, patting her shoulder roughly--"hope you used protection, young lady--"
Myka pushed past him so soon as there was an opening to wriggle through, kicking the door shut behind her. Not that it did any good because he just raised his voice to finish the thought--"Dental dams, saran wrap, the whole nine yards! Better safe than sorry!"
Were she any less frantically wrapped up in pulling her underwear down, she would have cringed. Still, she spared enough thought to resolve she was probably going to kill him when she got out of there.
In a volume probably loud enough to wake whomever wasn't already up, he concluded sagely, "Never know what was going around in the Victorian days!"
Nope. Not probably. Definitely.