"Maybe you're getting a promotion."

"I disobeyed my commanding officer's orders." Ward repeats.

He had been pacing the entire length of her kitchen since arriving approximately an hour and 20 minutes ago; since it's not even that big he's essentially been walking around the counter, talking about how he had messed up a mission.

"You took initiative." He raises an eyebrow. "Hey, it's not my fault you see the glass half-empty."

"Skye."

"I like to think positive. Taste," she holds the spoon to his lips. "Is that good?"

"Needs something," Ward says, "I'm going to be fired. I'll be unemployed."

"Why would your boss and his wife come to your house to fire you? That doesn't make sense. So stop freaking out. You'll short circuit – Fitz isn't here to reset you."

"You're not helping."

"Sorry, babe." She ducks underneath his arms to stand between him and the counter. "It's just dinner. It'll be okay." He lets his head droop onto her shoulder, sighing as her hands card through his hair.

"Have you got plans Saturday?"

"As in legit plans or are you asking if I'm marathoning The Mindy Project again?"

He chuckles, hugging her. "Actual plans."

"Nope. Even if I did, I'll be with you in spirit. Or tweeting it."

"What's the use of that? I won't be reading it."

"How about you text me when things get bad – not that it will – but if, big if, and I'll come over and ask to borrow sugar? Neighbourly thing to do. And it'll give you a break."

"How's about you stay for dinner?"

"But I'll be there then."

"Yeah. It's stupid - but I was wondering if you'd be there at dinner? This Saturday? When my boss grills me."

"Are you asking me to play wife?"

He stills. Skye can feel the beginning of him stumbling over words, so she hugs him tighter. "Ward, I'm kidding. But I wouldn't be opposed to it. What would Mrs Grant Ward be like?"

"Small and annoying."

"Are you saying I'm a Chihuahua?"

"I thought you didn't want to take my name if we got married."

"Skye Ward doesn't sound so bad. It's grown on me." Skye says, "And besides, people are naming their kids weird things soon there'll be Box Richards or something."

"What's the verdict?"

"Sure. I can pretend to be Mrs Grant Ward for a night."

"How's about we don't pretend?"

Skye pushed against his chest, seeing the slight grin though his eyes betrayed exactly how nervous he was. Still, she couldn't resist. "Are we still talking hypotheticals or is this your way of asking me?"

"The latter."

"Was any of this conversation real or did you rig it to say that line?"

"No. I might actually be in trouble at work -"

"Nope. Shut up. We're not going there again."

"So do you want this?"

"Eh – why not, you're not so bad." She says, watching him slide the ring onto her finger.

His fingers ghost over her sides, sending Skye into a fit of giggles as she tries to get away. "Grant!" He stops, rubbing their noses together before kissing her softly.

There's a stupid, dopey look on his face when they pull away. "Hi, Mrs Ward."

"I like that." She tilts his head forwards, pecking his lips. "Now, go set the table, Mr Ward. Dinner's almost done."

"As you wish."

"God, you're so lame." Skye groans, smacking his arm.

He steals one more kiss. "You're stuck with me now."

Skye watches him arrange the cutlery with precision. He turns around as if sensing her eyes and gives her that stupid smile. She probably has the same one now but whatever, she's way past the point of caring. And getting stuck with Grant Ward for the rest of her life, not so bad.

"Skye!"

"What?" He points to the stove. "Shit. It's good. We're good." She gives him two thumbs up. He laughs.

Yeah, they're good.