A/N: I started watching Ancient Aliens, and it brought up all my memories of reading Däniken and the like when I was younger, and I just had to do this. I'm not even sorry. Note: the following story includes scenes that deeply religious readers (e.g. if you believe that the Bible is to be taken literally, word-by-word) might find offensive, as Skye is taking some liberties at interpreting certain biblical stories.
Rating: K+
Word Count: 1980
Disclaimer: [Insert funny text here that tells you I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.]

Chariot of the Gods

Skye was already in bed when he came out of the bathroom–nestled comfortably under the covers, her back against the headboard, intently reading something on her tablet, while wearing an old, faded Academy T-shirt that was so not hers (although, thinking about it, by now it was totally hers). On most nights, this would have been the point when he climbed onto the bed, plucked the device from her hands, kissed her deeply, and rid her of that T-shirt (purely as an attempt to get it back to his possession, of course). But tonight he was too tired to even think about anything else other than dragging himself to the bed, slid under the duvet, and sleep for a solid eight hours–maybe ten.

It must have been apparent to her as well, because it was enough for her to take a look at his face as he walked over to the bed, and she was already locking the screen and putting the tablet away.

"Good night," she told him softly as he settled beside her, gave him a quick sweet dreams-kiss, then turned off the lamp.

She lay on her side, with her back to him, like she usually did–like he preferred. As soon as she had settled comfortably, he scooted closer to her, threw an arm over her waist, pulled her close, tucked his legs under hers, and nuzzled his face against her neck, effectively spooning her. She sighed contently as she slipped her hand into his, letting him know that this was the way she preferred to sleep as well.

(Really, he couldn't help it–ever since they'd gotten together, he just had to know that she was there right beside him, even in his sleep, well and safe. The comfort her body offered–her warmth, her scent, the softness of her skin, and everything that did wonders to his frayed nerves–was just an added bonus.)

A couple of minutes passed, and he was just about to fall asleep, his mind blissfully quietening, nothing filling his thoughts just the heady, floral scent of her shampoo–when suddenly, her whole body started rocking, as if she was sobbing, mercilessly yanking him back from the brink of sleep.

"Skye?" he whispered into the darkness of the room, worry lacing his voice as he swept an errant lock from her face. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing," came her answer, a little louder than his question, in a tone that really did not sound like crying. Honestly, it sounded a lot more like chuckling. "It's just… damn… it's just dawned upon me that Erich von Däniken was right all along!" Another chuckle.

He frowned; it was late, he was tired, she was talking absolute nonsense, and he didn't understand a word of it.

"What?"

She stilled for a moment.

"Erich von Däniken was right all along?" she repeated, phrasing it as a tentative question this time. When he still didn't respond, he felt her turn around to face him. "Erich von Däniken? Chariot of the Gods? Alien astronauts?" But all the answer she got remained a pair of raised eyebrows–although he had no idea how much of that she saw in the darkness.

"Doesn't ring a bell," he admitted, wanting nothing more than have Skye lay back down, so they could both go to sleep.

But, apparently, that wasn't happening.

The next moment she sat up suddenly and turned on the bedside lamp, the harsh light making him wince even through his closed eyelids.

"You have never heard of Erich von Däniken?" she asked incredulously.

"Should I have?" he said, cracking his eyes open slightly to risk taking a glance at her.

Skye huffed. She actually huffed.

"How could you have missed that?" (This didn't exactly answer his question, but he really wasn't in a mood to point that out to her.) "The guy is a freaking legend."

(He sensed a bit of an exaggeration here, but, then again, he had absolutely no energy or will to point that out.)

"Long story short?" he prompted, hoping that if he gave her an opportunity to cap the story, he'd be able to sleep sooner. And it seemed to be working, because she got on with her explanation right away.

"He's this scientist–or something like that, anyway–, who has been around like… forever. And he's built his whole career on the theory that the mythological gods are actually aliens–that, and even more absurd stuff."

"O-okay," he drew out the word, feeling like, based on her face, that he was still missing a point. "Where do you even learn this stuff from?"

"The Internet," she answered like it was self-evident. "Conspiracy theory blogs are fun," she added with a little shrug. "But, you see, as crazy as it sounds, he was right all along!" she went on, her excitement mounting; by then, she was practically bouncing on the bed, rocking the whole mattress. "Because, you know, his theory is that aliens visited the earth thousands of years ago, and they brought technology and did experiments and stuff, and people didn't understand what they were seeing, so they thought that the gods have come to them. And this is exactly what happened! The Kree came here! And they did do experiments! Damn… if only he could know!"

Grant blinked. Then blinked again.

"That's… great," he said, sounding way less enthusiastic than Skye. So some guy figured out that an alien race had been to Earth, and was talking about it, but not loudly enough to get to their ears of those who actually mattered in the topic. Yay. "Can we sleep now?"

Skye took back a notch right away.

"Yes, of course, sorry," she said, turning the lamp off and settling back on the pillow. "It's just occurred to me, and it was so ironic, I just couldn't help it."

"It's okay," he said, pulling her against his chest once again. "Good night!"

He got about a total of three minutes of peace–not nearly enough to fall asleep–, when Skye started speaking again.

"Of course people in the ancient times knew that the Kree had come," she mumbled, mostly to herself–which was actually not that hard to tune out, so he closed his eyes and went back to the business of falling asleep. "I mean, Hindus even have those blue guys on some of their old pictures–I bet they were actually painting Krees."

Half a minute of silence, and then she went again: "And I guess Asgardians qualify in this category, too–I mean, they were here hundreds, or thousands, years ago, too. Although in a different area, maybe–Däniken's mostly concerned about stuff in Middle- and South-America, Egypt, India, and the like, I guess. But still. And they are even referred to as gods."

Grant, for the umpteenth time in his life, was grateful for his training–he found it easier and easier by the second to tune her out. At least until she addressed him.

"Hey, Grant?" she whispered into the darkness. He replied with a simple grunt, letting her know that he was awake, but didn't really want to be. "Do you think Adam and Eve were Inhumans too?"

Now that got him open his eyes.

"What? Where do you get that?"

Skye shrugged in his arms. "I mean, it only makes sense," she said. It might have made sense to her, but he wasn't so sure. But before he could have voiced that, she went on: "I mean, exhibit A, it is explicitly said that they were created by "God,"" she actually made quotation marks in the air, "who, we assume, was actually a Kree. Or a group of Krees. Exhibit B, they were isolated from the rest of the world for a while–you know, in the Garden of Eden, which, if you think about it, could have been a fancy name for a laboratory," she ticked off the second item on her fingers. "Exhibit C, once the experiment failed–and we know it technically failed–I mean the Kree one–, Adam and Eve were let out of the lab and into the world, where they assumedly met other people–you know, humans." She scoffed. "Hell, for all we know, the fruit from the forbidden tree could have been Terrigen, and what came after eating it the gross description of their superpowers. What do you think?"

Grant contemplated for a moment to simply pretend that he had fallen asleep, but then gave up, let out a long breath, and said, "I think it's too late to theorize about stuff like this." He found evasion to be a great technique–especially when basically his only options were agreeing to what she had said, only to fuel her excitement, or saying that it is nonsense and risk a fight in the middle of the night. "But…" he sighed, relenting, "there might be something in what you are saying. If in nothing else, then in the bit that our ancestors thought the Kree were gods."

"Hah, I told you," she said with a note of finality in her voice. He really hoped that this could be the end of their conversation.

But of course, he had no such luck.

"I wonder if the other people in the Bible were Inhumans too–you know, Moses parting the Red Sea? Dude totally could have had some water-manipulation power of something," she said after another short period of silence.

That was it. The last straw. The last strike his sleep-deprived nerves could take. He could basically hear his last nerve snap.

Pushing himself away from her and swinging his legs to the side, he climbed out of bed, and with such determined movements that they contrasted wildly with his sluggish mind, he climbed out of the bed. He was already halfway around it when Skye turned on the lamp again and looked up at him with wide, alarmed eyes.

"Where are you going?"

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "To sleep–because, apparently, it isn't happening here. I'll… I'll just find an empty room, and…" Honestly, although he had slept in much worse places–woes of the job–, the thought of a lonely bed without Skye didn't appeal to him a bit. But he really, really wanted to sleep now.

"I'm sorry!" Skye interrupted him, her lower lip quivering slightly (Just perfect…). "Please, come back? I'll be on my best behavior–keeping it shut and all, reserving my theories for the morning," she promised, even mimicking pulling the zipper close on her mouth. "Please?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in spite of himself–she was lucky she was this adorable and he was this whipped–, and before he knew it, he was already slipping back into the bed. He lay on his back this time–maybe as a silent protest, maybe as a sign that he wanted to be consoled. And Skye, as soon as she turned off the lights, did snuggle up to him, throwing a leg over his and resting her cheek on his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

And this time, she really seemed to be serious about going to sleep–he could feel the tension leaving her muscles, her body becoming pliant, her breathing evening out (she actually kind of reminded him of a kitten falling asleep when she did this). So, after a little while, he let himself relax too–no point in trying to fall asleep if she was going to shake him awake anyway in a minute–, his eyelids heavy, his limbs craving rest, and her weight so delightful on his chest…

"Hey, Grant?" she whispered into the darkness. "Do you think we could visit Däniken in Switzerland? Talk a bit to him about Inhumans?"

He gave it up.