Just so you know, I’ve not written for this fandom or that ship in a long, long time and I am NOT good at fluff, but I figured I couldn’t exactly angst such a prompt ... Prompt picked up from that list
326. “Why are you baking muffins at three in the morning?”
H.G Wells was a lot of things, but a morning person she was not.
She liked beds more than an average human person should. Whether it be to sleep, to read, to think or to do a whole and vast variety of unholy activities that often led to more sleep, she enjoyed the comfort of a firm but not too firm mattress, the warmth of a thick but not too heavy duvet, the delicately fashioned imprint of the pillow after she’d used it for so long that it was then specially made for her head, the softness of expensive and non irritating sheets against her naked skin and above all, she loved the peace and quiet that came with the night, especially during the very first few hours of the morning.Which is why, when a rather loud banging and clattering jolted her awake, when she bleared-eyedly glanced at the analog clock on the opposite nightstand and eventually processed the 2:46am spread on the small screen in big, bold, neon red numbers, she let out a string of long British curses that could have made a Victorian whore blush and flee.
As she threw the blankets away to get out of bed, her muscles ached and not in a good way, which provoked a new string of swear words, all more sophisticated than the first few ones.
The pain was a little souvenir of their latest artifact-hunting trip in the middle of Wyoming, where Pete, Myka, Claudia and herself went to retrieve the original edition of the comic that featured Supergirl’s very first appearance. Finding the artifact had been a piece of cake but when they finally discovered what abilities it gave the owner, they had to call Artie to ask him to book a few more nights at the motel they were staying in. Apparently, the creators of Supergirl’s characters had a blast building up the man of steel’s older cousin, because any woman who was in possession of the comic was suddenly gifted with all of Supergirl’s powers. For years, the original edition of this particular comic had been the centrepiece of a private collector’s collection but when he died, his niece Marley inherited everything, and she’d grabbed the comic with the intent of selling it to the highest bidder.That was until she found out she could fly, fire laser beams out of her eyes, freeze anything and everyone to death, regenerate but above all, she realized she was indestructible. So, she kept the comic and read it everyday, since it was the only way to make her power last. The downside was that, the more she had and used her powers, the more she aged under her newly found Kryptonian metabolism.
The human underneath the powers was ageing alarmingly fast, in addition to getting sick from having those unnatural abilities.
Which explained why, after a few days of getting beaten up by a super strong, artifact induced alien, Helena’s body was still sore and a little broken.
In the end, it took Pete’s knowledge of the comics to help Claudia and her brother make some kind of Kryptonite, and then Myka and Helena managed to trap and hit the wannabe Supergirl with the green substance, before they could get to the artifact and finally seal it.
They’d all come back the previous day and Helena, after a much-needed hot shower, had finally crashed in her bed next to Myka.
Myka, who wasn’t in the bed anymore and when another loud clang echoed through the whole house, Helena abandoned all hope of ever getting back to her peaceful slumber. Grabbing one of Myka’s hoodies on the chair next to the bathroom door, she pulled it on, added a pair of panties and then she went out to find her lover.
Slowly climbing down the stairs, she didn’t turn on any light, guiding herself with her memories as she was more than familiar with the layout of the house. She’d been living in their joint home for the past three years, ever since she came back after the Boone disaster, finally admitting to Myka that she’d been wrong and that she couldn’t just ignore or dismiss her feelings. She’d only asked for a chance but Myka, weary, broken and guarded, had almost turned her down.
Steve, Pete and Claudia had worked their magic on Myka, persuading her to give their relationship a shot. The first six months had been tense and hard, with Myka retreating back to her defensive self whenever Helena did something she didn’t agree with, which was a lot of the time, if not always. Eventually, when Myka almost died from a stray bullet in a shooting that occurred as they were trying to grab one particularly deadly artifact, things got better. Helena had been so terrified of losing Myka, she’d opened her heart when she thought the agent was unconscious. She had told her how much she loved her and how badly she wanted it to work, adding that she couldn’t change who she was but that she would try and do better. To which Myka, finally opening up her eyes to pull Helena out of her misery, had said she didn’t want her to change, she just wanted her to talk it out and communicate. Somewhere in the middle of that heavy, tearful and dread-filled conversation, Myka had said she loved her too.
Three years and some months later, Myka was up at three in the morning and Helena, who most definitely wasn’t a morning person, still had left her bed to come find her.
She followed the halo of light coming from the kitchen and spilling onto the hard wooden floor of the living room, until she was finally meet with a incongruous sight that made her pause.Myka was dressed in her full jogging attire, right down to her worn-out running sneakers. Her wild curls barely tamed into a high ponytail, she was mixing some kind of dough into a bowl while humming something to herself, some kind of melody the inventor didn’t recognize. Helena took one distracted glance at the kitchen and her eyes widened even more. Her usually perfectly ordered and immaculate kitchen was a mess, with flour spread on almost every available surface, with soiled bowls and opened ingredients thrown in various spots, and something sticky was even dropping from the counter’s edge onto the floor, near the open dishwasher. It looked a lot like egg white, but Helena couldn’t be sure. Sugar was also littering the counter island, along with chocolate chips. A muffin mold with six spots, all still empty as far as Helena could tell, seemed to be waiting for the dough in the middle of the disaster.
Tentatively, Helena stepped closer to the battlefield that was her kitchen and called out. “Darling? Did a few leprechauns break in and turn the kitchen upside down when they couldn’t find any gold?”
Myka only turned her head, not even startled by Helena’s voice. The inventor figured she must have heard her come in. Myka always seemed to know where Helena was, in the room, without ever needing to look.
“As much as I’d love to blame anyone else, the mess around here is all mine, sadly,” Myka answered with a tilt of her head and that crooked little smile that, even after all the years they’d known each other, still made Helena’s stomach flutter.
“Righty-oh then. Care to explain to me why you are baking … muffins? A three in the morning?” Helena asked, venturing a little further inside of her kitchen and grimacing when she felt grains of sugar and chocolate chips under her bare feet.
“I went for a run, I couldn’t sleep but when I got home, I still couldn’t sleep and I figured you’d like some baked goods in the morning …” Myka distractedly explained, still mixing up the dough as if it was some kind of evil monster she needed to put down.
“You couldn’t sleep? How is that even possible? You passed out way before me, which I didn’t think was possible …” Helena blinked, confused and a little worried. Myka had always been a light sleeper and an early riser but she’d been having a lot of insomnia lately and it was straining her, splitting her focus and wearing her thin.
“Yes I know, but then I was up before one and running didn’t calm me enough, so I came home. Obviously, I should have tried to read a book …” Myka mumbled and finally let the dough alone, putting the bowl down to go retrieve the mold. Helena watched in horror as Myka tried to pour the almost liquid dough in the different spots, making a true mess of it.
“Obviously,” Helena snarked as she mentally resigned herself to see her kitchen suffer through the Myka storm.
“I’ll clean up, don’t worry. Go back to sleep,” Myka offered, dropping the bowl into the already full sink.
“Yes well, you just put everything in the sink …” Helena pointed out and when Myka arched a confused brow, not seeing the point, she sighed. “The dishwasher is literally two steps away and it’s open, and empty. I purposely enhanced it so it could handle your rare yet frantic attempts at cooking … which seems to be the case today.”
Myka glanced at the dishwasher and then shrugged, before grabbing gloves to place the mold into the hot oven. Helena was very surprised and little impressed that Myka had remembered to put the oven on beforehand.
“Alright darling, I’ll help you clean up. Just, put everything you placed in the sink into the dishwasher instead, I’ll take care of the actual cleaning part …” Helena sighed, getting closer to Myka as she spoke. “Then, once my kitchen is back to her shining new natural state, I’ll take you to bed and we’ll see if I can wear you out enough for you to be sleepy again …”
Helena didn’t miss the very interested gleam in her lover’s eyes and smirked.
“Uh uh, that comes after the cleaning,” Helena warned and Myka broke out the puppy eyes and the pout, which could have worked if Helena didn’t look away the moment she figured what it was. “No, you can’t sway me. Come along darling, let’s get my kitchen back to its rightful state and then off to bed with you.”
To soften the blow of her sassy comments, Helena placed a soft kiss at the corner of Myka’s lips. It was gentle and sweet, but all too brief. She took one step back and then brushed past her lover on her way to the sink, to grab a sponge.
By the time they were finally done with the cleaning, the muffins were ready. Helena pulled the mold out of the oven, turned it off and deposited the baked goods on the countertop. They looked good, which was some kind of a miracle given what Helena had witnessed of their conception.
“Well, I can’t wait to taste them but for now, let’s go to bed darling,” Helena offered, walking around the island to intertwine her fingers with Myka’s. She drew her lover closer and lovingly kissed her, before pulling away.
Then, just as they were about to exit the kitchen, Myka yawned.
