A/N: I wrote happy fic.
Of course happy by my standards may mean angsty by everybody else's, so if you're a fluffy kind of reader, proceed at your own risk. It shouldn't be as over-the-top in the hurt department as the rest of my stories, so it's realatively safe, but still, don't ecpect unicorns and roses.
Also, it was supposed to be smut, but I can't write smut.
And also, Ves made me do it. Kind of.
Right Here, Right Now
A time comes when you realize you have to enjoy simple things. Like the fact that you slept through the night. Or that the person next to you still sleeps. That, perhaps, you have a half an hour to do whatever your fancy.
Skye turns to glance at the watch she discarded last night on the bedside table. It's 5:07. So it's quite possible they have almost an hour.
She smiles to herself and closes her eyes, breathes in the unfamiliar smell of fresh sheets and something else, something much, much more homey. A scent of stale adrenalin and rush. Her heartbeat quickens.
Yesterday they crashed in this hotel room late at night. It was way past midnight and they were worn out, barely able to keep their eyes open. Grant didn't even have it in him to take off his pants. Skye wanted nothing more than to burrow her head in the pillow and wrap herself in the lush quilt. And she might have; he didn't need pampering. Sleeping in his pants? It was far from the worst torment he'd ever endured. Still, Skye wanted him to be able to fully enjoy the softness of hotel room linen. When she started to unbuckle his belt he grabbed her wrists and opened his eyes a slit. Shook his head and furrowed his brow.
"Oh, shut up," she scolded him. "I don't want to have sex with you now."
He may have protested all he wanted, but when Skye thought he deserved a proper rest, he had no say in it. It paid off, too. He didn't wake up even once.
She casts a glance at him now, eyes still closed, even rise and fall of his chest. He looks peaceful. Skye blinks the stinging in her eyes and she turns to look at the satin drapes in the window, their deep burgundy illuminated by the sunrise. The window glows. The painting of flowers on the wall next to it brims with happy colors. Plush chairs, smooth table with a bouquet matching the one in the frames, off white walls of this luxury suite feel so unreal. Overnights still aren't standard but they earned this one big time. Grant earned it. All Skye wants if for him to finally start believing that.
She should let him sleep. He hadn't had a night like this in... oh, well, in way too long. But she can't help herself, her gaze keeps coming back to his face. She tries to focus on the softness of the sheets and the smell of some lavish fabric softener they use in this hotel, but the smell of his sweat trumps all else. When she closes her eyes the memory of last night's scurry engulfs her and she knows all they have is right now. There may be no tomorrow, in their line of work every day may be the last, and yesterday is a far gone memory already.
Her hand reaches out almost against her will and brushes his cheek. The stubble under her fingertips feels scratchy.
Of course he startles awake, it can't be any other way. Startles and recoils from her touch, eyes open wide, breath quickening. It's only a moment, a heart beat and he recognizes her, his gaze softens and his hand raises to pull the strand of hair off her cheek. And if Skye notices this brief moment , those ghosts of the past resurfacing, she chooses to ignore it.
"It's early, I know," she whispers. "And I should let you rest, but..." She shrugs.
Grant smiles in response, buries his fingers in her hair and pulls her closer. Crashes their lips together.
Skye can't possibly resist it. When he's so near, his skin feels electric and all the feelings from last night come crushing and she wishes, she prays there was some way she could keep him in her arms forever, never let him out of her sight, into the dangers, where his actions are far too reckless, far too suicidal.
He tells her, every time, that he doesn't have a death wish, not anymore, but no amount of convincing will make her believe he wouldn't give his life for any one of their team, for any of the endangered civilians. He does't actually try to convince her he wouldn't; instead he convinces her that would be the right thing to do. He only wishes he had more lives, tens, hundreds of them, because that's how many times he deserves to die.
Skye finds herself straddling his hips. His hands brush her hair away from her face and she tries to beat at them but she can't hide. He looks at her with such sadness and his thumbs wipe tears away from her cheeks, his brow furrowed.
"What do you want me to say?" Skye blurts and sniffs angrily. "I was scared, yesterday. You think I shouldn't have? What? You were scared too? Yeah! I know, I wasn't being terribly careful either but... " It's surprising, because she doesn't do things nearly as dangerous as he does. "Trip was with me and besides I can take care of myself. What? I can. You should know, you taught me. And May did. And Triplett, actually. Not to mention Coul..." Grant's finger on her lips shuts her up.
And okay, they have better things to do than talk about who trained her. She takes one of his hands in her and kisses each of his fingers. Wraps her mouth around their tips, licks and bites and his eyes get that glazed over tint.
She loves the color of his eyes. When he's brooding they are dark brown, almost black, but when he's angry – what doesn't happen nearly as often as she believes it should – or when he's in a bliss, like right now – they turn golden. Like eyes of a dragon, she thinks.
Grant pulls his hand out of her grip and puts it under the short tunic in which she slept. The way his fingers grace her skin, delicate, barely there, sends shivers up her nerve endings. When he grabs her shoulder blades, she arches back and allows a moan escape her lips.
He's careful, gentle, timid but he takes initiative. It's not like those first times when he was so uncertain what he could or should do. She doesn't make mistakes either, anymore. Doesn't pin his wrists to the mattress like she once did, doesn't make anything sudden in general. When she leans in to kiss him, she holds his gaze till the last moment. Then she closes her eyes, she can't help it, but she knows he never does.
After that kiss, she stops thinking and analyzing. It's reflex now, really. She trust herself to not do anything to spook him, it's like training, muscle memory, and he's trained too. He knows her body, knows its needs and, more importantly he is aware of his own needs and he's not afraid to take from her. Joy, extasy, and then, finally, release and quiet.
When they hold each other so tight, after all is done and their breaths huff in the same quick rhythm and their sweaty bodies cling to each other, Skye feels safe. She wishes the moment would last. She wishes there was no tomorrow, no five minutes later, when Coulson will have called them and told them to meet on the Bus in five. And they will have another mission and she will worry again and...
Grant pulls himself up, leaning on one elbow and looks at her for a moment. Then he touches his finger to her right eyebrow and takes it away, angling his wrist.
Penny for your thought. What are you thinking?
Skye shrugs.
"That I wish we could stay here and pretend the world outside doesn't exist."
His smile and another kiss is his way of telling her that he wishes it too.
.end
A/N: No bashing of Grant Ward in the comments, please, I consider Ward!hate triggering, so spare me that.
However, reviews in general are not a bad thing. :) They are, actually, the best way to feed the author...