A/N: Pure crack. I apologize in advance.
"What's the matter with you, love?" Simmons asks, because this is quite possibly the grumpiest she has seen Ward all week.
"The flower sneezed on us," Ward replies in disgust.
Jemma blinked, "...It...sneezed? Are you sure?"
"Yes," May bites out.
"Ohh." Jemma stifles a look of delight over this unusual discovery and opts for the more appropriate response of sympathy. "Are you hurt?"
"Just. Get. It. Off." May says and now that Jemma looks closer, she can see that both their faces are spattered with a fine yellow pollen. She pulls on some gloves and then decides she better add a mask and goggles. She steps closer and notices that the exposed skin of their arms, hands, and necks are also covered.
"Let me get a couple samples and then it's off to the decontamination showers for you!"
What happens next is nothing Simmons could have ever foreseen. Ward, who had indeed, been standing perfectly still, suddenly seems to lose his balance. In a desperate attempt to steady himself, he grabs for May, who is, thoughtfully, reaching to catch him at the same time. Despite their efforts, he is unable to counterbalance himself and he pitches further towards the floor, taking May with him. For a split second, there is a look of abject horror on May's face, then she, too, tumbles to the floor.
"Oh, dear! Are you two alright?" Jemma asks anxiously, leaning over to look at them.
There is a scuffle as the two of them try to disentangle. Somehow, their efforts only seem to make their situation worse. May shoves at Ward's chest the same moment that he tries to push himself up off the ground, but her hands slip and Ward crashes down on top of her. May grunts and Ward groans and May's hands fly up to propel him off of her. It serves only to further pin her under him and for Ward to knock his head—loudly—against the floor.
Horrified, Jemma realizes she had better intervene—and quickly.
"Maybe lay still for a minute, May, and let me help Ward up?" Jemma suggests.
Ward takes her proffered hand, just as May says, "I wouldn't."
Ward outweighs Jemma significantly, so she has absolutely no chance when Ward can't quite catch his balance. They both land, hard, on the floor.
Ward looks absolutely mortified. "I am so sorry."
"Never mind. I'm fine! I bounce."
May manages, in slow, deliberate, movements, to pull herself into an upright position. She refuses to go near Ward.
"What's wrong with us?" She asks Jemma and the scientist appreciates that the "fix it" is only implied this time, instead of being explicitly stated. It makes for a nice change.
"Well, I can't be certain, not without running some tests, but I would presume that the pollen has affected your neurological and muscular function. How fascinating!"
"You think?" Ward asks, from where he is still sitting on the floor.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Let me-" she reaches over to try and help him up again.
Ward scoots back away from her. "I'm good down here, thanks."
Fitz comes in then and due to the look Simmons is giving him, refrains from laughing—barely—and from asking any questions (yet). Between the two of them, they manage to get an irritated Ward up off the floor and onto the examination chair in the lab.
Jemma then gathers a permanent marker, a handful of test tubes, and some cotton swabs.
Ward jerks violently with the first touch of the swab to his cheek. Startled, Jemma jumps back from him. "Ward!"
"Sorry."
"You should probably lay back and try to lay still. I don't want to put an eyeball out!" Jemma says cheerfully.
Ward looks vaguely sick.
FitzSimmons manage to safely deliver Ward and May to the decontamination showers before they begin running tests on the pollen.
"It sneezed, are you sure?" Fitz whispers. "Is that possible?"
"Well, it is certainly unusual behavior for earthly botanicals. Our knowledge base of extraterrestrial plant life is significantly less robust, however so I couldn't rule out some kind of..."
She is cut off by a loud thud and a pained yelp that emanate from the general direction of the decontamination showers. She and Fitz look up in alarm.
"Ward?" May asks cautiously.
"I'm fine."
FitzSimmons exchange a look.
"We better figure it out quick," Fitz says in a hushed tone, "Before they get themselves killed."
Simmons nods earnestly and resumes looking at the sample beneath the microscope.
A few minutes later, the showers shut off in sync and Ward and May emerge. May exits from the left side of her shower and Ward from the right of his, causing them to be standing practically nose-to-nose. The agents both attempt to step out of each other's way...the same direction. It's not pretty. There's a tangle of limbs and white towels and half-naked graceless bodies and then they are both on the floor.
"Are you ok?!" FitzSimmons exclaim at the same time.
There's a mad scramble as they try to get up...and continually get in each other's way.
It gets worse.
The truth of the matter is towels were never meant to contour to a human body and well, they don't now, either.
Jemma gasps. Fitz throws a hand up to cover her eyes, scrunching his own tightly shut at the same time.
"The good news is," Simmons says to Coulson and Skye later, "It should wear off on its own soon, most likely in less than twenty-four hours."
"Did you tell Ward and May?"
"Indeed, sir. They wanted to know if there was any way I could speed the process up."
He grinned. "I'm sure they did. Where are they now, anyway?"
There is a loud thud from the hall and Simmons winces. "They should be here momentarily, sir."
"I think you two should just go to your rooms and lie down until this passes."
They both glare at him, but Coulson is undeterred.
"Skye. Help Ward back to his room. May, come on, I'll take you."
"I don't need her help, Sir."
Coulson raises his eyebrows at him. "Sure you don't." He turns to May who's still glaring at him. "Melinda, it's not up for debate."
Skye steps forward and pulls his arm over her shoulders. "C'mon, Big Guy."
It is deeply shameful how proud Ward is of himself that he makes it all the way back to his quarters without falling. Doubly shameful, because he can only be proud that he didn't end up on the floor, whereas crashing into a few walls was a different story.
"I'll take it from here. Thank you." Ward says when they reach his doorway. It's not like she has to walk him to his bed, for pete's sake.
The second he lets go of her, though, he lurches forward and has to grab the doorframe to save himself. Skye raises an eyebrow at him. "Fine," he sighs.
He lets her go through the doorway first and then steps forward, wrapping his arm around Skye's shoulders for balance once more. Honestly, could this get any worse?
Apparently it could, because his not-falling streak ends abruptly as he loses his balance walking in the space between the bed and the doorway. His arm is still around Skye's shoulders, so he takes her down with him. He's more humiliated than hurt and he hopes the same is true for her.
"Sorry," he mumbles, too embarrassed to look at her.
He briefly considers crawling to his bed, or, better yet, sleeping down here. It wasn't like that could be more humiliating than falling again.
By this time, however, Skye has got free of his traitorous limbs and is standing above him. She's planted her feet a distance apart for support and is reaching for him.
"I don't think you want—"
"I'm not leaving you on the floor. Just, don't try to help."
He decides the strength-training he's been having her do is paying off; she miraculously manages to pull him upright. She doesn't let go until he is safely ensconced in bed. She then proceeds to fluff his pillow before he can stop her. She reaches for his blankets next.
"I can tuck myself in, Skye," he says in exasperation.
"Ok, then," Skye backs away, throwing her hands in the air, "I was only trying to help."
He ignores her, aggressively grabbing for the blankets at the foot of the bed.
And then it all goes wrong. The world seems to tilt on its axis and he slides half off the bed. He puts his arm out to brace himself and with his other hand grabs desperately at the mattress to keep himself from falling the rest of the way off the bed. After he somehow manages to wrangle himself back onto the bed, he looks over to see why Skye didn't help him.
She is doubled-over, shaking with silent laughter.
"Skye. It's not that funny."
She lifts her head to look at him. There are tears streaming down her cheeks. She tries to say something, but can't get it out over the laughter, so she just shakes her head at him.
He waits a beat and she still hasn't stopped. "Skye. Please stop."
She finally stops laughing long enough to pull the blanket up over him.
"Sweet dreams, Agent Ward."
"There, see. Relatively painless," Coulson smiles. May ignores him. He watches as she weaves her way through her room, with a great deal of care, steadying herself on the furniture. She doesn't even bother with the covers as she sits down on the bed.
"Need me to tuck you in?"
She resists the urge to smack him, if only because she's afraid of what could happen with her current lack of balance.
"Sleep well. Maybe call me if you need to get up in the middle of the night for anything?" Coulson says in far too chipper a tone with a ridiculous grin on his face.
This time, she throws a pillow at him, even though she has to anchor herself against the wall to do so.
When the morning sunlight streaming through her window wakes her up, May carefully pulls herself to a sitting position on the side of the bed. Everything feels alright, so she gingerly touches her feet to the floor and stands up. She can't help the triumphant smile on her face when she reaches the door without any mishap.
Then, she feels slightly ashamed for herself for that smile. Congratulations, Melinda, you managed to walk across a floor. Wouldn't your SO be proud?
When Grant wakes up, his brain is churning, trying to figure out a way to cope with all this. He decides on plan D—if the pollen's still in his system today, he's faking his own death (shouldn't be hard, considering his physical state, he thinks bitterly) and going deep deep underground.
All that still requires getting out of bed. He groans.
He steels himself and stands up. He takes a timid step.
Gravity does not betray him, so he continues over to his dresser. He manages to get dressed without hurting himself, so he takes that as a good sign.
He walks his room cautiously several times over and does not lose his balance once.
If Ward had been the sort to turn cartwheels, he might have.
Better not press his luck.
They round the corner at the same time, freeze, and stand two feet apart.
"Agent May."
"Agent Ward."
He steps aside—as far aside as is humanly possible in the cramped space—and lets her pass.
She gives him a wide berth as she slides past him.
The two of them avoid both each other and making eye contact with the rest of team for the duration of the week.
And if the paperwork gets lost on its way to HQ, well, neither of them know anything about it.
-end-