Set Season 1, after TRACKS but before Hydra popped.
Rated G, possibly T.

Fitz stiffened as Skye's loud, drunken shout rang across the garishly decorated room. "Tryin'a skip out on us, monkey boy?"

He sighed. "I just need to use the l—"

"Party rules, Fitz! No one," she burped, then grimaced, "nobody in or out without kissing somebody."

"Skye…" He looked back plaintively. Those vodka sodas had been unrelenting, and while Fitz's alcohol tolerance might be impressive, his bladder size was decidedly not.

"Noooope!" Skye hopped off her chair, holding her martini glass over her head as if that would stop it from spilling. "You guys didn't wanna do mistletoe for Christmas, so this is what you get! " She stabbed the air with an index finger. "My birthday, my rules."

He bit his lip and considered pointing out that they didn't even know when her birthday was before deciding that would be the dickest move since Ward threw out his sandwich.

Just then May's voice came over the comms. "Coulson. Incoming message from Deputy Director Hill."

"I'll take it in my office," Coulson spoke up from where he'd been quietly nursing a single scotch all night.

As he slipped out of his seat, Skye waved an authoritative hand in his direction, opening her mouth to speak. Before she could get a word out, Coulson leaned over and dropped a fatherly peck on top of her hair. "Happy birthday, Skye."

His eyes scanned the remainder of the team, flushed with beer and laughter and sleepiness. With a final, tiny smile towards his agents, Coulson brushed past Fitz on his way out the door. Lucky bastard.

"Night, AC!" Skye waved happily, the movement causing her drink to tip precariously. Simmons reached over and delicately plucked the glass from her hand, while Skye pressed, "So? Who's it gonna be, Fitz? 'Cause you could make out with Ward, just sayin'."

Fitz refused to let her ruffle him. Maybe I can argue my way out of it. "Skye—"

"Me?" Skye looked at him appraisingly, surprised and the tiniest bit confused. She shrugged and moved to stand by him. Bloody Hell. Simmons' eyes were tracking them both now, round as pies.

"FYI, this doesn't count as my birthday present. Even if you are funny when you're flustered."

"What? No!" Fitz's cheeks pinked before he could help himself, and he remembered the only other time Skye had kissed him. He'd not been affected, no matter what she insisted. His undercover work was beyond reproach. "You kissed me that time, anyway," he muttered.

"Okay, I gotcha." Skye's gaze followed his across the room, and she winked. "No grandma kisses."

The next thing Fitz knew, Skye was pressing her lips fully onto to the left side of his mouth. After a second, she pulled back, her eyes dancing with mirth at his rabbit-in-headlights face.

Fitz blinked rapid-fire, his eyes flickering between Skye's teasing expression and Simmons' studied nonchalance on the other side of the party. "Ahh, erm," he fumbled. Say something, you walnut. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," Skye smirked. Oh, blast. She's in love with me. I knew it. He should've seen it coming, really, the way she'd jumped at the chance to kiss him again.

"Fitz? Didn't you need to…" Skye stepped to the side and motioned to the open doorway.

"Oh! Yeah." He nodded shortly and shuffled outside, but paused in the hall. "Ehm, Skye?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

He waited until Skye edged her way out to stand by him. Finally able to speak to her in relative privacy, he cleared his throat. "So, about that. Just now." He cleared his throat again, regret trickling into his tone. "Listen… Skye…"

"Oh my god ." If he didn't know which one of them desperately needed the toilet, he'd have thought Skye was poised to wet herself laughing. "Fitz. You don't have to break up with me."

He felt his thorns rise, embarrassment creeping up his neck. "I know that! No! I just meant, erm, y'know, if you…" His hand came up to scrub at his jaw.

She guffawed, "Haven't you ever played Spin the Bottle? Oh, honey, that wasn't your first kiss, was it?"

"Don't—" He cleared his throat yet again. Must be comin' down with somethin'. "Don't, er, be ridiculous. It's just… Simmons… well, we're not— but, what I mean is…" What, exactly? He and Simmons weren't… a thing . But that didn't stop him feeling the need to explain.

"Dude," Skye snorted. "Everyone already knows, except for maybe the two of you." She clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "It's totally fine."

"Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that's good then." His head snapped up to peer at Skye. "Wait, what does everyone know?"

She sighed, still amused, and patted the side of his face. "Fitz? Do me a favor."

He frowned and nodded. It was her birthday, after all.

"When you come back in and you have to kiss someone?"

"Yeah…"

"Just stop after 'Thank you.'"

A/N:

So in this dream I was at some sort of house party with either Fitz or Iain de Caestecker (surprise! it made no difference) and one of the party "rules" was that you had to kiss someone to go through a door, so I got to kiss Fitztecker. Just like a little thing, on the corner of his mouth (apparently dream-me does not take sexual advantage. hooray?) But then this cinnamon roll THANKS ME for the kiss and immediately tries to let me down easy. Of course I promptly cracked up laughing because no, we were not dating, I was a total stranger and we were only kissing due to some contrived reason, so it was fine. #cue the brOTP vibes

It's the most fun I've had in a dream since the one where I hung out with Elizabeth Henstridge in the costume department and she figured out I wasn't supposed to be there because I kept gushing about how awesome she looks in whatever she wears, and then she had me escorted out by security.
#not even mad

Skye because Season 1. I have nothing against her name change and she will be called Daisy in any Season 3 fics I write, or in appropriate AUs.