Grant Ward let go of the punching bag and drew back, signaling to Skye that her self-defense practice was drawing to a close. "I've been thinking," he said while wiping sweat from his forehead. "We should have sex."
Skye blinked, sure she hadn't heard him right.
"I mean, you and me. In bed. Campy slow mood music and all. Maybe some desperate kissing first."
Sky blinked again and shook her head. "What makes you think I would -"
"You're a sexy computer whiz. Impossibly beautiful, with whip-quick zinger responses whenever you get a chance and oh, you can hack into just about anything and save the world at the last second. You're like if Wesley Crusher wore lots of makeup and fewer ugly sweaters. You're damn near perfect."
Skye frowned. "I'm not perfect! I have a mysterious, troubled past, which I refuse to talk about, even to you. And I know I sulk a lot."
Ward swaggered forward, getting into Skye's personal space and backing her up several steps. "Your troubled past is a stupid reason for you to get mixed up with S.H.I.E.L.D, and you know it."
She licked her lips, not even realizing she did it until she noticed Ward's attention immediately diverting to her mouth. "And you . . . want to sleep with me? Really?"
Ward threw his head back and laughed. "Want to? No. God no. You drive me absolutely insane - you drive us all insane. But the fastest way to get Joss Whedon to kill off a main character is to settle them into a relationship, so the rest of us drew straws and I lost. Hell, I figure even a 50-50 chance at being the one suddenly shot or impaled by a spear or who-the-hell-knows is worth it to get you off the plane." He smiled again, once again all sexy and sweaty and lying. "So - wanna come to bed?"