A/N: So, I do kind of enjoy the dark!Skyeward trope, but, honestly I find too much of it emotionally exhausting. And I figured, if we have what we have, soul-crushingly-awful-on-the-dark-end-of-the-middle!Skyeward in show, and we have dark!Skyeward in fandom, then by all the laws of multiple universes, in one, maybe just one, they get to be happy. So, I wrote light!Skyeward. I've just been craving it so badly.
"Honey, I'm home," Grant Ward calls, shaking rain off his hat, as he steps into the foyer of their very first home.
"I'm in the kitchen!" Skye calls back, and he never gets tired of that beautiful voice.
He kicks off his shoes, hangs up his hat and coat, and heads for the kitchen.
Or of that beautiful woman. He stands in the doorway, taking a moment just to drink her in. Even after all this time, she still takes his breath away.
"What are you just standing there for?" she protests, lifting sticky, doughy hands out of a bowl. "Come over here and kiss me!"
He doesn't need a second invitation. He risks flour down the front of his suit and dough in his hair and wraps his arms around her. He pulls her close, leans down, and takes his time with a sweet, lingering kiss.
"Worst thing about a long work day is having to wait even more hours to kiss you," Grant says, sliding his hands down to her hips and leaning back so he can look at her beautiful face.
"Aww, babe!" she kisses him again, "I missed you, too. Now, wash your hands and help me. Your crusts never look like this. I don't know what I'm doing wrong!"
He laughs. He is definitely the better cook of the two of them, but Skye is too stubborn to ever give it up.
He looks down into the bowl. "I've seen worse."
She rolls her eyes at him.
As they finish up dinner, Skye glances out the window. "Looks like the rain'll let up long enough for us to walk Bow Wow."
"I still can't believe I let you talk me into calling him Bow Wow," Ward replies, lips quirked in a teasing smile. It's a frequent conversation between the two of them.
"It's been two years; you need to let it go," Skye retorts, standing up and gathering the dishes from the table. "Besides he likes it. Makes him feel young and hip."
Their aging golden retriever, a stray rescued from the streets, hence the renaming, rubs up against Grant's legs. "Sorry, boy, I tried to talk her out of it."
Skye snorts. While she has her back to them, Grant gives Bow Wow a piece of the chicken from dinner.
"Grant Douglas Ward! Do not feed the dog from the table!"
"Busted," Grant mutters under his breath to the dog.
They're the sort of couple that make people smile as they walk down the street, hand-in-hand, their dog's leash wrapped around Ward's free hand. They're friendly and smile at everyone and make small talk to their neighbors and other regulars at the park. They stop to let small children pet their dog. And they're so so in love; it's the other thing that draws people to them.
They're the perfect picture of happiness.
Later that night, when they are both settled in bed, Skye remembers a conversation that she had overheard at work earlier that day that had piqued her interest.
Grant is playing scrabble on his i-pad, one hand resting on Skye's knee as she surfs food blogs, as had recently become her habit, since she was bound and determined to one day show up Grant in the kitchen. (It's a long way away, but she likes to pretend anyway.)
"Some of the guys at work were talking about the theory of parallel universes today."
Grant's forehead wrinkles. "Parallel universes?"
"You know, the idea that this universe is not the only one, that somewhere out there, we're living a thousand different lives in a thousand different universes."
"It's … interesting."
She makes a face at him. "I think it's kind of beautiful. The guys from work were kind of obsessed with how different your life might turn out. What do you think about it? The idea that in another universe, you and I could have turned out completely differently." She gasps softly, "We might not even know each other. We might have never met. Or maybe we would just meet in passing or barely miss meeting each other, like I got off the subway one stop ahead of the one you got on, or I get out of the taxi and we brush shoulders as you get in..."
"I think," Grant says thoughtfully, reaching out a hand to play with her hair, "That no matter how many universes, things always turn out the way they're supposed to. I mean, ultimately. Like us. In any universe, you and I would be together."
"I like that thought," Skye says, snuggling against him.
"But I like this universe," Grant says, pulling her into his arms, and kissing her. "I wouldn't want to change a thing."
"Mmm," Skye says, leaning in for another kiss. "Me neither."
In another universe, Skye wakes up sobbing, alone.
-end-