Grant Ward was an old soul.
Everything about him reminded her of an excellent aged whiskey.
His eyes were of the same color, eyes that Skye had dreamed in her sharper dreams. She had dreamed as they laughed to one of her jokes, as he looked stunned after she was finally able to do an exercise as he wanted.
She had also dreamed them while he was looking at her as if she was the only answer to his problems. As if she was the only light in his darkness.
Her lips always had that flavor. Burbon, whiskey, were all perfectly blended with the flavor that only Grant's lips could have.
"What is it?" He asked with a smile.
"Nothing" said Skye.
Kiss him again for the first time after the team had forgiven him seemed so natural.
It was like coming home.
A/N :I want a round of applause! Being a pathological talkative Drabble was impossible for me to write .In this series i will write Headcanons I will receive around, so feel free to leave prompt if you want!