Author's Notes: So, yes, I do love my colors, but this one definitely isn't a companion piece to my other Andrew/Melinda work, Black. You're more than welcome to read it, though. I was waiting for the fandom to give me that Andrew and Melinda snuck into Phil's office and drank half his scotch fanfic, but almost a week since the finale and I haven't seen anything. So, here we go. Slightly angsty, slightly fluffy, may be PWP (?).
Disclaimer: I borrowed a few lines from the show, as well as the wonderful characters, but that's about it.
RED
She was a vision in red.
The battle over a few hours ago had left their wounds on her—the shock of scarlet as blood ran down her face, the ugly crimson of the fresh bruises on her arms and hands as S.H.I.E.L.D. medics tore off the sleeves of her tactical suit.
Red. He has always loved how she looked in red: The eye-catching sole of the heels she wore on their first date, a stunning wine-colored cocktail dress on the night he proposed to her, a sparkling pair of ruby earrings he gave her on their first wedding anniversary, the unmistakeable shade of Russian Red on her lips when she wanted to tease him.
But injuries—that's how Andrew saw her in red more often than he'd like. He didn't get used to seeing her that way in the years they were married, and he doesn't think he ever will, but Melinda May wears the color proud—it means she survived.
"Melinda." It wasn't a question.
She looked up from her wounds and scanned the room past the doctors and nurses, her eyes—bloodshot—finding his. Though she had never been one to talk much, they could always hold a silent conversation just by looking at each other.
You're alive.
You're here.
It was a connection, one they've had before, and one that was apparently still there.
It's been seven years since Bahrain, six since she left him, yet that phone call she made before the war brought him right where he belonged: with her.
She's made those phone calls before. It was a habit of hers, wanting to hear his voice before anything else. Not that Melinda needed it to get through difficult missions, but Andrew telling her to do good and come home to him, in that voice that always soothed her nerves, gave her strength and courage. She may have been one of the best specialists in S.H.I.E.L.D. may have had the weapons and skills to take down enemies single-handedly, but it was because of love that she survived.
He had always listened, always told her what she wanted to hear, always waited for her to come home. Until she didn't. This time around, he was no longer going to be just the one on the other end of the line. He had lost her that way once, and he wasn't going to let the both of them go through that again.
"Single, or double?" she asked, setting the two glasses she stole from the kitchen down on Coulson's desk. His office is one of the places people wouldn't think to find her in, not right now anyway when she's supposed to be resting, and definitely not while the Director is still in surgery to fix his amputated arm.
Andrew chuckled in reply, watching her as she opened one of the cabinets to retrieve a bottle of scotch. The corners of her lips turned up in a rare smile at the sound, remembering the last time they had a drink together at The Playground. She poured them both a single shot, and as if in a practiced dance, they took a glass each, clinked it against the other, and downed the alcohol in one gulp. It was a small thing, but even after all this time, he couldn't help but be amazed at how in sync they still were.
She refilled their glasses—this time with a double shot—as he set up a spot on the floor, surrounding a chair serving as a makeshift table with some throw pillows for them to rest on. Melinda made her way over with the drinks, wincing a bit as she descended to his level.
A silence—comfortable yet pregnant—blanketed over them as they nursed their drinks. There were things they didn't say that they wish they did, yes, but it didn't mean they knew where or how to begin.
Somehow, she eventually broke the solitude, and once she got going, everything came rushing out: Coulson's hypergraphia and the incompetence she felt when Coulson consulted him behind her back despite her efforts to help, not knowing how to deal with Skye developing her powers and finding out about the Inhumans, the emergence of the other S.H.I.E.L.D. and having to be on her feet dealing with them while finding out about Coulson's secrets and protecting her team...
Andrew remained silent, not knowing whether he should be the psychologist he always was, or the husband he once was, merely resorting to wordlessly refilling their glass until they've consumed half the bottle. This was probably the first time since before Bahrain that she had talked about herself at length, that she had put herself first before others, and just like that phone call did, he felt hope. Melinda was finally opening up—seven years later, yes, but to him, it wasn't too late.
He leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn't characteristic of him. He prided himself on figuring people out, but somehow, he never could figure himself out, especially when it came to Melinda. He leaned in and kissed her with all the love he still felt for her, kissed her with all the longing and frustration he felt when she walked out that door seven years ago.
Andrew half-expected her to slap him away, yet the other half of him expected her to kiss him back, which was exactly what she did. This time, the roles were reversed: She had done all the talking, while he told her all the things he didn't say but wish he did in that one passionate kiss. He knew they were still somehow in tune with each other, but he couldn't believe just how right he was, just how much this kiss confirmed that.
He reluctantly pulled away, catching his breath, and when he opened his eyes, he saw hers were sparkling with tears of happiness. They needed no words.
I still love you.
I love you, too.
Smiling, Melinda tilted her head up to request for another kiss, which he gladly obliged. He marveled at how some things have changed, yet some have remained the same, like the way she leaned into him, her slender arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They rediscovered each other, his lips moving down the curve of her neck, finding that spot that always elicited a moan from her. She gasped, trembling in his arms.
Andrew maneuvered them down to a lying position against the pillows, him on top of her, kissing her again while allowing her to unbutton his shirt. She tasted of scotch and him, and he grunted softly into her mouth as her hands came in contact with his skin, making him dizzy with desire. He kissed her harder, distracting himself by making quick work with her blouse and her bra, throwing both away off to one corner. He cupped a breast with one hand, his thumb flicking the nipple while his mouth descended to the other, gently sucking in the way he remembered she liked.
Melinda could feel him getting hard, and she snuck a hand down to feel him through his pants, moaning when he responded to her touch. He raised his head from her chest, looking at her with eyes blown wide with love and lust, gently grinding himself down on her palm.
"Do good, Melinda," he breathed, making her smile, partly in amusement at his choice of words and mostly out of amazement that she still knew how to make him feel good. She watched him as he closed his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him, a few more grunts escaping from between his lips. With great effort, he eventually pried himself away from her, his eyes sparkling as he took in the sight underneath him: her face bright with mischief and excitement, her chest flushed with arousal, her nipples hard and tempting, one glistening from his ministrations. He'd get back to them later, but for now, there was something he really needed to do.
Deftly, he undid her pants and slid them down her legs along with her panties, not having much patience to tease her. There would be more time for that. She was already wet, he noted with pride, and he didn't waste any minute before lowering his face between her legs. They both groaned in unison, she in pleasure and he in giving her that. He kissed and licked and sucked in that inconsistent way that worked for her, driving her to the edge and back over and over again.
"Andrew," she cried out, grabbing hold of his shoulders and trying to pull him back up to her. "I can't... I need you now." With that, he moved up her body to kiss her, letting her taste herself while he kicked off his pants. The desperation between them was high, and as soon as he was as naked as she was, he caved in to their desires.
Despite the fast intensity of their foreplay, they made love slowly, savoring the way their bodies moved against each other. She wrapped her arms around him and brought them even closer together, breathing his name into his ear while he buried his face into her neck, muffling his own moans into her skin.
Together they moved towards the much-needed release, and just as how it was all those years ago, they knew how to get each other there. Andrew thrust faster. Melinda arched her back to meet him halfway. He reached in a finger between them to play with her clit. She curled her toes on his butt, pulling him deeper inside. His grunts grew quiet, focusing on her pleasure. Her gasps turned into moans, unable to fight the feeling. She came first, with an endless breathless litany of his name as she trembled, and the immense feeling of her pulsing around him triggered his own orgasm, holding her close as he rode it out.
In the aftermath, Melinda could feel the beat of Andrew's heart as she lay on top of his chest. He smiled contently, pushing away a lock of hair from her forehead before kissing her there. This felt so good, so right, and in that moment, they knew they were never letting go of each other ever again.
As Andrew went to give his assessment of Coulson's team to the Director, Melinda stayed behind to pack her bags for a much-needed vacation. They would never be able to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. behind them, but that didn't mean they couldn't make the time to start on a second chance at a relationship.
She couldn't help but keep a smile off her face. It had only been a few days, but it felt like a lifetime. Andrew breathed life into her. She had pushed him away for far too long, but their recent reconnection made her feel like a better version of herself.
Melinda paused in her packing, eyeing the red bikini in her hands. It had never been used, not that there was a reason to in S.H.I.E.L.D., but she remembered Andrew's words from all the way back,
"When you get back, maybe you and I can take a trip. Somewhere warm."
She was back now, maybe not the same Melinda that he fell in love with, but the same Melinda that he loved all these years. It was time for that trip. With her mind set, she put the bikini into her bag.
Andrew did love her in red.
End.