The Warehouse 13 fandom is ignoring the BROTP that is Steve and Myka and I won’t stand for it any longer.
Myka, throwing herself down onto Steve’s bed: Ugh. Straight people.
Steve, leaning on his elbows with an open copy of Hamlet upside down on his head: Tell me about it, sister.
Myka, bursting into Steve’s bedroom at two in the morning wearing a blue dressing gown and shaking a hat like a collection tin: I’m starting a fund to make Pete stop going to the bathroom with his door open.
Steve, throwing his wallet across the room at her: Take my money. Now.
Artie, arms folded and huffing impatiently: Why can’t I ever get a straight answer out of anybody in this house?
Myka, lying on the sofa with her head in Steve’s lap: You sure won’t get any out of us two.
Steve, raising his hand for a high-five: Ooh, that’s good.
Myka, upside down in a chair: How can you say that Miles Davis was a better jazz musician than Duke Ellington?
Steve, upside down next to her: Gay people have better taste in music, Ophelia.
Myka, folding her arms: Right, because I’m such a blatant heterosexual, aren’t I, Steven?
Steve, shoving her teasingly: Yeah, you are.
Steve, with his head on Myka’s stomach: Are you a can’t cook pan, can’t drive pan or can’t do math pan?
Myka, grinning: Can’t drive pan. No need to ask you what you are.
Steve and Myka, simultaneously: Can’t cook gay.
Steve, in a stereotypical conservative white female voice: Pansexual? Does that mean you’re attracted to frying pans?
Myka, throwing a pillow at him: You have no idea how much that pisses me off.
Steve: Somebody once asked Helena if she was attracted to bicycles. I honestly thought she was going to punch them.
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