"What do you mean by…A Safe Word?" Fitz hears in hushed tones coming from the lounge. He can't believe it, but he thinks it's Simmons. His legs seem to grow a mind of their own as they carry him toward the low voices.

As he exits his bunk, he hears Skye say, "You know, just a word that means: Stop, cease, desist, halt all words currently fleeing your mouth! Then, hopefully, we can avoid any future need for May and I to bury dead bodies for you!"

"He was not dead! I mean, I shot him but…oh, all right, maybe that could be useful. Not that I ever want to be in a situation like that again!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who went all cray-cray in the hallway!" Skye says defensively.

"Ugh, I'm really quite bad at improvisation," Simmons acknowledges despondently. "So, how does one decide on a safe word?"

Poking his head around the corner from the kitchen, Fitz sees Simmons facing a cross-legged Skye on the sofa. They look up simultaneously at his approach.

"Hey, guys," he says innocently, walking slowly into the lounge. "Did I hear something about a safe word?"

Simmons looks appalled by his presence, her eyes large and uneasy. Skye smiles and says, "We're just coming up with a code word that I can use next time Simmons here gets into trouble with her mouth. Girlfriend cannot tell a lie and we do not need a repeat of that fiasco at the Hub".

A distinct blush begins creeping along Simmons' cheekbones and she looks away, placing one hand firmly over said mouth.

"Yes, when you shot Agent Sitwell…with the Night-Night Pistol. Good plan. And how does one go about selecting such a word?" He can't help but smirk a little at Simmons' evident lack of equanimity.

Skye continues oblivious to Jemma's rising blush, "I don't know. Something distinctive, yet simple, maybe?"

"Well, you don't want to make it too simple—you don't want it to come up in ordinary conversation," Ward adds, entering from the stairs.

Simmons looks as though she would like to melt into the sofa.

"Yeah, good point," Skye replies, eyes glazing over introspectively before going bright with inspiration. "How about, Blunderbuss?"

Simmons squirms in her seat and whimpers a little.

"Well," Fitz says, crossing his arms and tapping his chin in thought. "You don't want it to be so obscure that you can't use it in ordinary conversation."

"Hmm…how about something that relates to the problem like, Glitch?" Sky replies. "Nah, actually, I might use that word a lot. What about, Kibosh?"

Ward is shaking his head. "No, still could get used in everyday conversation. You need something more unusual. How about, Rumpus?" He's almost seems to be treating like a training exercise.

Skye bursts out laughing, instantly earning a deep frown from her S.O. She quickly tries to get her cool back but the laughter doesn't quite leave her eyes.

"Widdershins?" Fitz suggests.

"Um, how about—No?" Skye answers drily.

"What?" He grumbles. "It means 'contrary direction'. That's sort of what you're going for, isn't it?"

"It doesn't really have to mean anything…" Skye is tapping her lip with her index finger. "Mullet?" she suggests.

Ward is laughing now. "I'm not sure how you'd get that into a sentence if you needed it." He pauses, "Archipelago."

"I have to remember what it is." Skye throws a large sarcastic wave around the room, "Hey, remember me?"

"Neolithic," Simmons finally chimes in timidly, looking slightly less mortified.

"What if we're exploring some alien weapon in an ancient cave or something?" Fitz replies soberly.

"Sphygmomanometer," Simmons tries again. "…Or, Oocephalus."

Fitz snorts with laughter at that. Skye and Ward stare from Fitz to Simmons and back again. "Oh, it means, 'egghead'…in Greek," he offers.

"Oh, of course it does," Skye jokes, with a chuckle. "Your nickname? That is so TMI, you guys. And, 'Hello, me again!'" She waves at Simmons this time. "How about, Conniption? It is an accurate description of what will happen if you don't button-it next time," she finishes with a grin.

Simmons shakes her head, trying to stifle a laugh at Skye's joke. Fitz conveys his displeasure with his eyebrows.

"Brouhaha," Ward says.

"Amygdala?" Fitz tries.

"Platypus," Skye call out over both them. "Shenanigans."

"Schadenfreude," May says quietly, seeming to appear out of nowhere from the doorway near the cockpit.

Laughter explodes from Skye involuntarily. "…But, that's not even English…" she trails off. Her smile leaves almost immediately as she eyes May warily and looks swiftly away from the specialists' stony expression. "Is it?"

Fitz bites the inside of his lip in an attempt to hide his grin. He meets Jemma's eyes as she similarly hides her smile behind an open palm.

Ward's lips curl up minutely as he says, "It's German. It's, 'the pleasure you feel at another's misfortune'."

"Oh, um…" Skye looks vaguely appalled. "How about, Zing!" she shifts, trying to regain momentum.

"Herpetologist," Simmons says. Now they all burst into fits laughter. "What? It's a scientist who studies reptiles!" she complains.

Their laughter dies slowly into silence as they all become lost in thought again.

"Quagmire," Ward says softly.

"Hirsute," Fitz offers.

"Manscaping," it comes from behind them. They all turn to see Coulson standing in the doorway with a slight smirk on his face.

"I think The Boss has spoken," Skye breaks the stunned silence. "Manscaping, it is. Simmons, next time you hear that word: Stop speaking—no chitchat, no communicado, and definitely no shooting the breeze or anything else for that matter."

Simmons nods sharply and they all wordlessly and hurriedly retreat to various distant points of the Bus. Skye leaves last, throwing Coulson a half-smile and a jaunty salute on her way out. May and Coulson are left standing on opposite sides of the lounge.

"Were we ever that young?" Coulson wonders aloud.

May makes a soft "hmmph" sound, as she turns back toward the cockpit.