Public Displays
Ward knew it was going to be bad as soon as the words left Coulson's mouth. He left some time ago to escort Simmons and Skye on a quick two hour assignment that required their specific skillsets. That left Ward and May to, for lack of a better term, babysit Fitz until they got back.
He figured that it would have been easy. Just let him have his lab and let him go at whatever it was that he did in there. Until, in a fit of genuine curiosity, May asked what a certain machine did. That was an hour ago, and he was still explaining things. Not the machine; oh no, he moved on from that within five minutes. Currently, he was rambling on and on about some theory that Ward was sure had nothing to do with engineering. They had long since stopped listening and opted to just nodded slowly every so often. Fitz was so into it that he didn't even notice.
He heard May sigh quietly. He glanced her way and saw her looking as bored as ever. He touched her thigh and flashed a small smile when she looked over. The corners of her mouth curled upward ever so slightly. A win in his book.
But, he was feeling daring. As Fitz was turned around to write something on he board behind him, Ward took her hand in his and places a small, chaste kiss on it. She gawped briefly, as if processing what he had done, and then ripped her hand from his grasp. Even still, her cheeks were as red as a tomato. He smiled and winked. Her blush deepened. "Fitz, I have to check something in the cockpit. Be right back."
He didn't hear her, but that didn't stop her.
Before she left, she turned and flashed Ward a smile. It was gone before he could respond, but he saw it. Another win.
Tonight was movie night on the Bus, and it was Simmons' turn to choose the movie. May tried to bargain, finagle, even threaten Coulson to let her stay in the cockpit. Nothing doing. She sighed heavily and acquiesced.
The movie she chose wasn't all that bad, actually. It still wasn't her taste, but it wasn't the snoozefest that Fitz chose last week. She had decided to sit next to Ward, but made sure to keep plenty of space between the two of them on the sofa. No need to make everyone suspicious so quickly.
She munched on some popcorn, and was quickly realizing that she didn't regret allowing Coulson to make her leave the cockpit for this. Still wasn't her taste, but it wasn't half bad.
Two-thirds of the ways through, Coulson, the bastard, claimed he had a lot of work to finish up and checked out early. Only she and Ward noticed, since Skye and FitzSimmons were all bundled up together, all sound asleep.
They were so cute. She allowed herself to smile softly at them before turning back to the movie. She noticed Ward had his arm draped on the sofa. She scooted over and laid her head on his chest. His arm wrapped itself around her shoulders, making her feel warm and snug in his embrace. "If I fall asleep and find out you took a picture of us while I was sleeping, I will kill you," she said softly, but without any malice.
He chuckled.
He couldn't believe it.
He couldn't believe that something like this could happen. He had told her from the outset that he was going to prevent it from happening.
She was doing so well. Once she got over the initial shock of his teaching methods and stopped saying "Bang!" when firing the fake gun, she was taking to his training regimen quite nicely. Sometimes, she actually looked like a legitimate SHIELD agent. Her hand in finding Coulson, while by herself and without their resources, proved how capable she had become.
And then, in the blink of an eye, it came crashing down. When he saw her lying on the ground, bleeding from the abdomen and dying, he felt like he was dying.
Even though Simmons managed to prolong her life, there was no guarantee that she was going to make it.
Regardless, he had failed. He was tasked from the jump with protecting her, making sure she didn't get hurt or killed. He had failed. She was hurt, and was scant inches away from dying.
He inhaled sharply. Failure was not something he dealt with easily. He hated it. How it felt, how he felt the others would see him, as someone who couldn't protect his rookie. He hated it.
His fist smashed into the hood of the SUV. Again and again until his hand was throbbing. Deep breathes kept him from doing more. "I should have been there," he growled softly.
"You can't blame yourself." How long had she been there? It didn't matter. She was the only one who could understand; well, the only one he wanted to see.
He bristled slightly. "Don't worry," he said darkly, "I'm not blaming myself."
"Ward," she warned softly. She approached until she was right next to him. "She made the call she felt needed making. Nothing can change that."
No reply came from him. He didn't want to hear her damn common sense. All he wanted to do was wallow in his own anger and self-hatred for a little while.
As if sensing this, her small hand reached over and intertwined her fingers with his. Some of his anger vanished. He sighed and squeezed her hand softly. "Let go," she commanded.
Blaming anyone but Quinn wasn't going to help anything. He sighed and nodded. She kept her hand with his until he would calm down fully.
Anger was palpable on her. She exuded it as easily as she did quiet confidence.
In the blink of an eye, Coulson was gone, Ward was hurt and a little boy was left without his father. And there was nothing she could have done about any of it.
Her fist struck the punching bag with frightening force.
Damn it. Damn it all!
She should have been down there. Fuck what that bitch in the flower dress said. If she had have been down there, then none of this shit would have happened.
Coulson. She had already lost him once; she was going to be damned if she lost him again. Her fist struck the bag again, and then her foot. A flurry of limbs hit the bag with as much force as she could muster. Frustrated grunts and curses bubbled out from under breath in conjunction with each strike.
She was so passed angry and this point. She was angry when they all reentered the Bus. She said nothing to anyone, looked at no one and stalked off to parts unknown. If the others knew what was good for them, they wouldn't have followed her. They didn't.
Good. It would have been a shame if she were to punch one of them by 'accident'.
Raina's face appeared on the punching bag. Her pretty little face with that stupid flower dress in. Her punches gain more veracity as she tried to rearrange the bag's face as grotesquely as she could.
"For someone who said that punching things never helps, you seem to enjoying yourself."
He apparently didn't know what was good for himself. "Fuck off," she snapped.
He didn't respond, yet she heard his footsteps pad toward her. For an instant, she felt like striking out at him. She considered it strongly, but shot it down in preference of whirling around and glaring at him. "Go. Away."
He was undeterred and continued to approach her, only stopping once he was within five feet of her. Striking distance. It was either a challenge or he was making a point. That if she wanted to hit him, he wouldn't stop her, or that he wasn't afraid of a pissed off May. He wasn't stupid, so it had to be the former.
She sighed and relaxed her shoulders. She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand, and foe a moment, allowed him to see just how defeated she was. "Just go."
"Wallowing in anger won't help anyone," he replied sagely. Him, giving advice on anger management. Rich.
She sighed shakily. "I should have been down there."
"You're right." He closed the gap between them and wrapped her in a hug. She didn't fight back. "But, we'll get him back, and I'll let you shove Raina's head up her ass, alright?"
"Okay." Her arms lifted up and wrapped around her back. He squeezed her softly, and a tiny smile appeared briefly through the anger.
It was midnight on the Bus, and it was l
iterally as quiet as a graveyard. The only sounds were the soft hum of the engines, and Ward's footsteps as he crept quietly toward his assignment. Self-assignment, anyway. It was midnight, February fifteenth. Valentine's day was yesterday.
He personally didn't really see a reason to celebrate it. Why wait for one day to shower his loved one with gifts, chocolate, and flowers when he could do that whenever? He was thankful that May didn't make him shell out ridiculous amounts of money to buy her outlandish gifts that she really didn't need just so she could believe that he cared about her.
Still, he felt sort of bad that he didn't have the chance to do anything for her on the actually day. They had a mission that took up most of the day, and the rest was spent recuperating. He managed to sneak out for a little while and bought her something. A single rose. Simple, elegant, and easy to hide.
He patted himself on the back for finding the most Melinda May thing he could on such short notice and continued toward the cockpit. Everyone else was sleep, but he knew that she was still awake.
Once there, he looked around. Determining that the coast was clear, he knocked on the door. "May," he whispered.
The door opened slightly after a moment. "Why are you still… what is that?"
He could have smacked himself. In his excitement, he forgot to hide the rose behind his back. With a sheepish smile, he presented it to her. "A rose. Happy belated Valentine's Day, Melinda."
She stared at the flower for a long moment, as if was determining whether it was a venomous snake or not. Eventually, she took it and smelled it. "Sweet." A soft smile appeared as she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she said quietly.
He blushed like a schoolboy. "No problem, May. I'll… see you around." She nodded and disappeared behind the closing door.
Ward grunted with each collision. He loved that Melinda never held anything back, but this was a bit much. Still, the face she was make was too hot, so he couldn't help but egg her on a little. "You can go harder than that, can't ya, babe?"
He saw her gritted her teeth. He smirked, both impressed and surprised that he had managed to goad her on that easily. Her fist flew at speed, and he was barely able to parry them. When he did, he countered with jabs and bunny kicks; when he didn't, he absorbed the hits and kept asking for more.
May tried a high kick, but he managed to duck under it and grabbed her by the waist. She gasped softly when his hand fell to her hip. "Something wrong, Agent May?" he whispered.
She replied by elbowing him in the ribs. He grunted and let her go, only to fall when she swept his legs under him. Before he could react, she was straddling him and had his arm twisted into an armbar. He grimaced. "Something wrong, Agent Ward?" Her face was so close to his; he could smell the hairspray she used. A lock of her hair fell on his face and tickled his nose. He snorted. Then it hit him.
"Not a thing," he replied as he slid his hand between them and tickled her thighs, close to her pelvis. She yelped and scurried to get away. He jumped up and swept her to the floor before straddling her and pinning her arms above her head. "Looks like I win."
She struggled, but found his strength too much. She sighed. "Looks like it. You cheated, though."
He chuckled and dipped his head until it was inches from hers. "You call it cheating, I call it improvising." He kissed her softly, and then helped her up. "Good fight, nonetheless." He gave her a smack on the butt and turned to leave. Upon turning, he saw Skye standing in the doorway, face split into the widest, most amused grin he had ever seen. She had, apparently, been standing there watching the spar, and they didn't notice due to being so into it.
He couldn't say anything. He then knew what it felt like to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He turned around and was met by May impaling him on her fist. He dropped like a ton of bricks, a pathetic moan trickling out of his mouth. At that, Skye burst out laughing. "Oh, God," she barely managed. "You got some balls, Ward, I'll give you that much!"
He held his head up, and caught May smirking at him from behind the still guffawing Skye. He groaned and fell to the floor.