Okay, so I should probably explain a little thing here. There have been a serious lack of Pyka fics, which is disappointing - i thought for sure when the episodes were released early that we'd get some more! So here I am, I've waited for two weeks for some to appear, but none did. So anyway, this came about from a Tumblr prompt, where I was supposed to write something about either travelling or a honeymoon of some sort. So I didn't really follow the prompt...kinda...I dunno. But anyway, enough of my rambling! I wrote this at about 1 am, so don't blame me for any errors there might be, or repetition, or...yeah. Obviously it's not the best, but it's something.

Married. Married. Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering were married. Myka was his wife. To say it was weird was an understatement. They'd gone from barely speaking to friends, friends to lovers, and now they'd taken the final step. They were…with the risk of sounding so cliche, they were one. As they took their first steps onto the dance floor, some song playing that Pete knew he would never remember, he felt like his heart might explode, and as he leaned in, he brushed his nose lightly against hers, and when she, all in her white-dress-glory, giggled in an entirely-un-Myka-like fashion, he thought he might just jump her right there. To hell with the reception, to hell with the guests…

But for once in his life, Pete resisted his impulse to touch, and instead he settled for tightening his arms ever so slightly around her waist as he attempted to lead her on the dance floor. Between the two, they had about four left feet, so needless to say the dance wasn't as successful as they would've liked. But when the song ended, and he leaned in to kiss her, it was like a spark had been ignited. She responded to it warmly, and Pete seemed to forget that they were, in fact, not alone. But then, that's how kissing Myka always was. It was a sensation he'd never tire of, and he intended to continue kissing her for the rest of their lives.

0o0o0o0

Picking a honeymoon destination had been the most difficult thing to decide, because between the two of them, where hadn't they been? They'd been all over the world to retrieve artifacts, but what was one place they'd always wanted to see? The truth was, their interests were polar opposites, and after a while, even Jane and Claudia had given up trying to help them decide.

And then, something hit Pete like a flash of lightning. They had so many memories of the United Kingdom, and not all of them good. They'd had each other's backs in Cardiff what with Excalibur, and all, and that was where they'd met H.G. Wells for the first time (granted, she'd held a Tesla to his throat). But London wasn't what he had in mind. So the next morning, they were up early ("Pete, we're gonna miss our flight if you don't shower now!" "Shower with me and it'll go faster…") and on a flight before the rest of the B&B had even woken up.

Their plane landed at London Heathrow Airport, and as Myka slept, Pete drove the four-and-a-half hour ride from the airport to the Lake District. Mostly secluded, but beautiful…and hadn't he read something about how a lot of old-time writers worked there? She had to love that, right?

They arrived at about midnight, and he kissed her awake, brushing curly hair from her face, and as she stirred, Pete had to marvel at her. He marvelled at her every morning if he woke up before her, he'd spend all day and night staring at her if he could. Not because she was hot (even though she definitely was), but because he didn't understand how she could think she wasn't special. To him, she was the most extraordinary person he'd ever met. And maybe that was why he'd fallen in love with her. He'd never met someone who could hold so much emotion inside, someone who had lost so much and bounced back from it the way she did. He'd never met someone with her sense of humour, and the way she insisted she didn't eat sugar, even though everyone already knew she did.

She wasn't a supermodel. She wasn't like any of Pete's many exes, and maybe that was another reason why he loved her. Because she was just Myka. It didn't matter to her if he thought she was extraordinary, because she wouldn't believe it no matter the number of times he said it, and right then, he resolved to annoy her with the amount of times he complimented her.

"Morning," he mumbled, as she opened her eyes, groaning a little bit.

"Did I sleep?" she asked regretfully, suddenly more awake. "Oh, Pete, 'm sorry…"

But he shook his head, kissing her again. This time, she responded with slightly more force. She gripped his face in her hands, and before he knew it, his shirt was half-undone and her hair was even more mussed and curly than before. Before they went any further, they made their way over to their lodge and then to the cabin they'd rented, and as soon as the door shut behind them, she peppered his face with kisses, all the while tearing off his shirt.

By the time they made it to the bedroom they were both fully bare, and he cupped her cheek. "Mykes," he murmured, and at the sound of her name, she looked up into his brown eyes that were taking her in — all of her — almost reverently.

"Pete?" Her voice was almost trembling, as if this was so different from any other moment they'd spent together.

He gripped her hands in his own and offered her a small smile. "I love you," was what he said, his voice low and warm. Because how could he tell her he loved every single little thing about her, even her imperfections. Because they were perfect to him. No guy wants a perfect girl, because perfect…well, it doesn't exist. But she was his perfect fit, she was the person he'd been searching for all his life, even if he didn't know it. She had made him a better person, and he'd taught her how to have fun.

Myka whispered the words back to him, his arms wrapped around her bare waist and pulled her close. She clung to him, as if she was afraid to let go, and they fell back onto the bed, both laughing as they leaned in for a kiss.

And as they reached their peak, crying out each other's names in ecstasy, what logical part of Pete that was left couldn't help but be grateful that she was just Myka. Because for once, he didn't feel like he had to be Pete Lattimer, heroic Warehouse Agent. With her, he could be just Pete.

Well, there it is. Short and kinda sweet. Leave a review or a comment if you care to.

Cheers!