a/n: After EP08: The Well, it just made me wish this would happen. I'm such a big, Skyeward shipper.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada-zlich. All belongs to marvel and ABC, and whoever else.
Word Count: 579.
I. No Awkward Silence.
His face was a mess, consisting of bloody cuts and bruises along the temple. Not only that but the split and enlarged lower lip he got from fighting those crazed God Wannabe's. Yet here he stood, with only one functioning eye thanks to the slight (yet still a minor swelling in the medical sense, with no long lasting damage) black-purple bruise that had appeared, trying to clean his face up. He had his own skills in medical training that if he shoved some ice on it, it would soothe the raging fire named the swelling.
Currently residing in the main bathroom facility on the bus, Agent Grant Ward was struggling to say the least- not only because of the physical damage to his anatomy but also because of the lingering rage and hatred that was flowing through his body freely, thanks to the Berserker staff. The emotional struggle that he was going through had made him fatigued to say the least, but right now sleep was the last thing he wanted. He would rather be an insomniac and sleep deprived than to have to relive those unforgiving, bitter memories of his childhood. Something the Agent refused to acknowledge since burying it in the past.
His walls were down emotionally, physically and mentally because he hadn't heard that someone else had come in, otherwise he would have donned on his discarded leather jacket and t-shirt. "Um, do you need some help?" A timid voice called out, maybe embarrassed that she walked in to find him staring at his damaged reflection in the mirror; those deep caramel eyes penetrating deep into his own thoughts. Skye, of course she had come to visit him- she had been there to help him up prior before May had taken up the staff with all three pieces connected. Not answering, Ward span around slowly before passing her the flannel he was going to use to rid the grime off his face.
A small smile graced Skye's lips as she acknowledged his silent words; she took the blue flannel from his hand before dousing it in warm, soapy water. Gently wiping his face, there was no awkward silence between them, just a comfortable space was present. They exchanged no words, only facial expressions - other than the occasional harsh exhale that Ward did when Skye went over his eye lid as gently as she could. Reaching over, to the medical box, she pulled out some alcohol wipes.
"Sorry..." She all but whispered as she tore open the paper package before wiping across his cuts, except his lip. A slight hiss escaped him; his breathing became rapid copying the movements of his chest as the slight pain radiated through his system. Her S.O's eyes were screwed tightly shut, wishing she hadn't cleaned the cuts with the strong alcohol but had she not, infection was bound to occur eventually - feeling his pain, she dropped everything in her hands to reach up on tip toes and gently pressed her lips to his now tilted forward forehead. "Thank-you," He whispered so low, she barely caught it - but she understood, "Anytime."