A/N: This was the very first fic I posted in my other account. Thought I would share it here, too.
She was wearing a red sundress. It reminded him of the first time he took her for a ride in Lola. The colour of the dress itself sort of reminded him of Lola, too. That was what he blamed for the fact that he couldn't keep his eyes from her for very long.
They were on the run, trying to shake their tail of Hydra operatives attempting on figuring out the location of the Playground. They hadn't been approached, and they didn't want to cause a scene, so they were currently at a bit of a stalemate. Skye suggested they enter this pub, wait until it got busy, and then try and pull the slip on their tail.
Of course, she also insisted - since they didn't want to appear suspicious - they should order a drink or something, and "blend in". He wasn't sure if he quite liked her version of blending in.
He was sitting at the end of the bar, with the clearest view of all the exits, slowly nursing a glass of bourbon. Very slowly. He didn't believe in getting drunk during an operation, particularly if that operation included supposed drunkenness.
He wasn't a prideful man, but his drunk impersonation was one of the best. According to Agent Hill, anyway.
Skye was currently on the dance floor with a number of other people. There weren't enough patrons yet to disappear into, but there were apparently enough to line dance. Coulson hadn't even known Skye could line dance, but he supposed he shouldn't be that surprised. Skye was constantly surprising him, these days.
Particularly that she owned not only a red sundress, but also a pair of black cowboy boots. And she was currently dancing, a big smile on her face, no remnants of the past weeks of stress anywhere to be found. He realized that he was a bit jealous.
He was still deciding whether he was jealous of her freedom, or jealous of the man who currently had his hands on her waist, a little too firmly in Coulson's opinion. Coulson glared over the rim of his glass as he took another sip.
He was grateful when the song ended; telling himself that it was because he didn't have to work so hard to keep his eye on her, now that she was sitting next to him at the bar. Telling himself that none of this had to do with his territorial need to keep her close to him.
That had been happening a lot, lately.
She was out of breath; he couldn't quite catch what she said to him before she leaned over and spoke to the bartender. The man seemed more than happy to fulfill her request, and asked Coulson if he wanted another bourbon. Coulson declined, but Skye was nodding, and next thing he knew, he had a fresh glass in front of him. He gave her a wry look, but she was all smiles and playful eyes. Her cheeks were a bit reddened from her dancing, but she was still tapping her feet to the beat of the next song, her eyes out on the floor. Coulson wondered if she was looking for her new friend and his eyes quickly scanned the room.
She caught him, and smirked.
"Our tail hasn't moved from their table. It's starting to get a bit more crowded, but there's no way we can shake them by sitting at this bar the whole night." Skye pointed out, and Coulson said nothing as he took a drink.
The bartender brought along Skye's order, sliding it in front of her with a grin, and she thanked him as she brought the edge of the glass to her lips.
Coulson stared.
"What?" Skye asked after a moment, somewhat nervous after the way he was looking at her. She set her martini glass down and brushed her thumb across the corner of her lip.
"Nothing," Coulson said quickly, "I just... Expected you to be more of a whiskey girl, honestly." He admitted, and the grin she gave him made his blood run cold.
"Oh," She laughed lightly, "Well... That's for later." She looked at him a moment longer, took another drink, and slipped away again. He stared after her, wide-eyed.
"You've gotta be careful with those, buddy. Firecrackers." The bartender commented, cleaning a glass as he watched Skye saunter back onto the dance floor.
"Oh," Coulson sighed heavily, "You have no idea." He took a long pull from his glass as he watched her group up with some new people, joining in yet another line dance.
...
Skye sat next to him long enough to catch her breath, and finish her Cosmo. She raised her eyebrows innocently toward Coulson and pressed her finger against the knot of his tie.
"C'mon, AC," She asked, sweetly but without begging. He narrowed his eyes, swallowing. It was classic 'my-brain-is-saying-no but my-body-is-telling-me-hell-yes'. She leaned forward into his space, and he frowned slightly.
There was no way she could be drunk - he'd watched her, and she had only ordered the one drink.
"We can slip away through the dance floor. Out the kitchen - I persuaded one of the busboys to prop the door open for me," Skye said, her lips brushing against his ear.
"So that's what you were doing with the handsy boy," Coulson mused, staring over her shoulder somewhere, trying to distract himself from the physicality of her. Skye smirked that grin again, and he shifted in his seat a little.
"So you did notice," She sounded pleased with herself, and Coulson glared at her softly. "C'mon," She said again, wrapping her fingers around his tie and pulling him to a standing position. He was about to protest the wrinkling of his suit, but then her hand slipped down to his, and she'd entwined her fingers through his. He quickly pulled out some bills for the bartender and then allowed her to pull him into the growing crowd. He tugged back a little so that her back was pressed against his front, and he leaned his head down to her ear.
"You know I don't like crowds," He told her, his nose brushing against her ear. Her fingers clenched around his, and she zigzagged them through to an area where the two of them could at least maneuver to face one another.
"Thirty seconds, then we move to the left. Thirty seconds after that, straight back, and then we just wait for the perfect moment to slip back into the kitchens," Skye told him, reaching her hands up behind his neck.
He knew what she had planned to do in those thirty second intervals.
Coulson had danced before, plenty of times. However, his forte was generally more ballroom style, or swing dancing. This... 'Dirty Dancing' thing Skye - and everyone else around them - was doing made him completely nervous. Though her fingers at the nape of his neck felt very nice, and he certainly wouldn't complain about the way she was moving her body against his...
He shook his head, clearing it. His hands were resting low on her waist, and with his head lowered, she lifted hers so that they were nose to nose. He was startled, but didn't pull away, and was rewarded with a pleased look on her face.
"Now," She whispered; he had almost forgotten what they were planning to do. He deftly maneuvered them along with the music, succeeding in not drawing any attention.
He was seriously off of his game if something like this got him so distracted from the mission. He'd never had this problem before.
Granted, he'd never done this with Skye, before - and certainly not with her in that dress and those boots.
"Ready?" She whispered, and he saw the open doorway just behind her. He nodded, and then did something that he probably should have thought ahead on first.
He placed both hands on either side of her face and kissed her.
She didn't even have time to react before he was walking them back toward the kitchen door, propped open as promised. As soon as they crossed the threshold, he kicked it shut with his foot. He pulled his lips away from hers gently, immediately searching for the back door. He could see her wide eyes in his peripheral vision, but he needed to force his mind to focus on getting them away.
After that he could argue with himself over whether or not he had felt her kissing him back.
The kitchen was small, thankfully; just a couple cooks and some busboys - one of them looking rather disappointed. One of the waitresses was there as well, smirking at them and pointing along the counters - there. Exit sign.
"Thanks," Coulson breathed, catching Skye's hand and pulling her after him. He heard her apologize to the dejected busboy, and then he was pulling her out into the alleyway. "Come on; before they check up on the car," Coulson urged. Skye was doing well with keeping up, however, and firmly grasped his hand in return.
They reached the car without spying their tail, and both of them didn't bother to even open the doors; hopping in through the open roof and buckling quickly.
Skye made sure hers was tight.
...
The ride back to the base was quiet, save for the wind rushing around them. Coulson had chosen the skies; he figured it would be even harder for Hydra to track them once they were airborne.
His head was buzzing and he wasn't sure whether it was from the adrenalin, the two glasses of bourbon, or the kiss he had just shared with his second in command. He imagined it was probably a combination of all three.
Skye was curiously quiet, as well, and he was selfishly grateful for that. He was not ready to begin explaining how very much against protocol his actions had been. He glanced over at her worriedly. She had a soft smile on her face.
He chose not to comment, but it made him hopeful.
...
When they arrived at the Playground, parking Lola in the hanger a safe distance from any danger, the silence became oppressive. They both sat in the car after he shut it off, staring straight ahead toward the rest of the hanger. The Bus was parked there, a few SUV's, and a couple of Jeeps. They were slowly building up the base, piece by piece.
"Are we going to talk about what happened?" Skye finally asked.
"Do we need to?" Coulson asked carefully, wincing because his 'Director' voice came out.
"No," Skye said quickly, taking in a breath. Coulson was silent; he knew otherwise, but he had no idea how to begin that conversation.
"Briefing room in ten?" Skye was the one to break the silence again, speaking in a rush. She opened the door and stepped one foot out.
"Wait," Coulson said, unsure why he wanted her to wait, and reached out to rest his hand on her forearm.
"What?" She said, just as quickly, looking back at him. Glancing at his lips, and remembering the last time she'd been sitting in Lola and looking at his lips. He'd just saved her life, then. This time, she wasn't sure what she was thinking.
No - she knew exactly what she was thinking. What she was thinking scared the crap out of her.
"Don't - " He stopped himself, looked perturbed, and removed his hand from her arm. She gave him a questioning look, and he put a neutral look on his face as he heard quick footsteps echo across the hangar.
"Coulson!" May sounded simultaneously relieved and frustrated. She approached the car and stood staring at him, glaring.
"Yes, May," Coulson said heavily, opening the car door. Skye stepped out as he did the same, slipping the keys into his pocket.
"We expected you hours ago. No word. What the hell happened?" May folded her arms across her chest. Coulson knew she was fairly angry; she hardly ever allowed her anger to seep into her tone.
"Briefing in ten," Coulson informed her, moving tiredly toward the hall.
"Phil,"
"Agent May. You will be briefed in ten minutes. No one is hurt, the base isn't threatened. That's all you need to know." Coulson didn't exactly mean to be so snappy, but he was preoccupied with trying to figure out if he'd screwed up one of the best relationships he's had since New York.
May flinched, took it personally, nodded respectfully and left quickly. Coulson heaved a heavy sigh, knowing why Skye was looking at him the way she was.
"I know, I know. She's going to take my frustration with her personally for a while. And honestly, a part of me feels she deserves it for what she put me through." Coulson said, rubbing his eyes. Skye opened her mouth, and Coulson shook his head. "I know. I'll apologize to her."
They both walked silently down the hallway, with heavy, slow steps. Coulson felt Skye's hand slip into his, and he looked at her in surprise. The boots she was wearing put them eye to eye. She gave him a small smile, uncertain as she was, and she squeezed his hand lightly. His eyes softened, creasing at the corners, but that was all he could offer, other than squeezing her hand in return. She pulled away, and disappeared into her bunk when they passed, without a word.
Coulson shoved his hands into his pockets, frustrated. He had no idea what she felt, and he wasn't feeling too great. If this was what was going to be on his mind for the rest of the night (at least), he needed another bourbon.
Needless to say, during the debriefing, they didn't mention specifically how they had managed to get out of the bar undetected.
...
A month later, Agent Maria Hill graced the Playground with her presence.
Koenig told them how Fury had said he didn't put her in charge of the Playground because then it would have been called the Bunker or something ridiculous like that.
Hill was their only source of contact with Fury, and even then, she didn't do it often. Coulson enjoyed it when she visited; they would catch up on old times and share battle stories. He always seemed less stressed and more upbeat when she was around.
She was a remnant of the old SHIELD, one of the few okay ones that still came with a lot of great memories, and no more doubt and betrayal than what she was already suspected of since she began.
Coulson didn't trust her about TAHITI, but he trusted her as a friend and as a comrade, so he frequently shared a drink with her in the evenings. They were sitting in the lounge, on the barstools at the mini-sized bar in the corner. Coulson had his bourbon, and Hill was drinking something with tequila.
"Do you think it's time for me to move on?" Coulson wondered, twirling his glass around on the counter. Hill scoffed and took a sip of her drink.
"Yes, Phil, please. We are all very sorry about your card collection, but it's what sold the push that they needed."
Coulson scowled at her.
"Not what I was talking about," he said, "but thanks for reminding me."
Hill sighed, turning to give him more of her attention.
"Your cellist?" She asked softly, and he shrugged.
"It's not like I'm waiting for some magical day where I can be with her again. I know that I can't. And honestly, I don't think I want to, anymore. She seems happy where she is."
"Are you?" Hill asked knowingly, and Coulson sighed, staring at his drink. "I know that when you look at a drink more than drinking it, you're caught up on a woman. And if you say it isn't your cellist..." Hill's eyes lit up. "Is there a new lady in Coulson's life?" She teased. "Don't tell Lola."
"She likes Lola," Coulson replied immediately, and Hill's mirth fell away slowly. She gave him a serious look.
"Do I know this person?" She asked suspiciously. He didn't answer. "Is this person a SHIELD agent?" At his silence, Hill punched his arm. "Phil, you know about relationships within the agency."
"Yeah, so do you," He pointed out, and she gave him a wry look.
"You and I are different. And if you recall, we had some bad times there for a while." She reminded him, and he raised his glass to hers. She tapped the edge of it and they both took a drink.
"Seriously, though, Phil..." Hill sighed. "It's got to be someone from this team. You don't see anybody else, and I know you and I aren't getting back together." She glanced at him. "No offense."
"None taken." Coulson shrugged. "I'm just wondering if it's worth it at all. No matter who it is. An agent, a musician, a business woman - is it worth it?"
Hill waited for a few moments, letting him think about his own question before she answered with a question of her own.
"You tell me." She knowingly waited, sipping her tequila. Coulson was usually the type of person who didn't need actual advice - he just needed a sounding board. He was great at figuring stuff out on his own - heck, that was one of the reasons why Fury made him the head.
"What do I do?" Coulson asked her, a determined look in his eyes. She knew that he was asking about step three; he'd already decided on step two.
"Well," Hill said in a resigned manner, "You have experience. You know the drawbacks, you know the pluses. You're also the boss, so you could change the rules a bit, too, if you'd like."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Coulson mused, thinking not for the first time that there was something going on between her and Fury. Which was weird to think about, so he tried not to.
"It would appear less selfish of you if you claimed to be doing it because you want your friends to be happy." Hill conceded, and they both chuckled. "Talk to her about it," Hill became serious again, "Before you decide for real, talk about it. Make sure she knows how these things could go."
"She's not the type of person to harbor false delusions," Coulson replied, and Hill raised her eyebrow.
"God, May?"
"No!" Coulson was very perturbed by that thought. Hill must not be aware of May and Ward's fling.
He frowned. Another example of how bad these things can go. Of course, he was pretty certain that neither he nor Skye would spontaneously join Hydra and betray everyone they love. And by 'pretty certain', he was willing to bet Lola on it.
"Well, we all know about how Simmons dreams of the day she finds irrefutable evidence of the TARDIS technology..." Hill trailed off, setting her glass down firmly. "Phillip J Coulson." She admonished, and he gave her a wide-eyed look. "The girl?"
"I wouldn't let her hear you call her a girl," Coulson replied, taking a long drink from his glass. "She's been training with Trip since we landed here."
"She's hardly Level One!" Hill was astonished; she completely forgot about her drink.
"What's that got to do with it?" Coulson grumbled, frowning. Hill raised her eyebrows.
"You're the boss," Hill said, as if that explained everything.
"You just said that I could change the rules, as said boss." Coulson snarked, and Hill pulled his drink away before he could take another sip.
"You need to think about this," Hill told him seriously. "This isn't you having some sort of mid-life, after-death crisis, is it?" He narrowed his eyes at her, sighing heavily.
"No, this is serious," He admitted softly, and Hill immediately backed down. He didn't get that look on his face very often.
"Have you done anything?" Hill asked him carefully, and he shook his head.
"I kissed her." He said. "Just once. Not really recently." Hill raised her eyebrow again.
"All you've done is kiss her once and she's got you this messed up? Geez, Phil, this is serious." Hill slid his drink back in front of him, and he gave her a look.
"I don't want to screw this up with her. I trust her more than I trust myself, sometimes, and I value what I have with her now. If I introduce a whole other level to our relationship, and she doesn't agree - I don't think I can do this SHIELD 2.0 thing without her input." He said seriously, and Hill thought carefully before she answered.
"As young as she seems, I know that she's not the type of person to be flippant about things. She'll handle whatever you give her with maturity." Hill shrugged lightly. "Maybe you need to wait until SHIELD 2.0 is up and rolling, for your own sake." Coulson frowned at that, but knew that she had a point. He just wasn't sure how long that might take. Or if it will ever happen.
Hill drained her glass and stood.
"Or," she smirked playfully, "You could just be the boss, and do whatever the hell you want. We all know Fury played that card all the time." She clasped his shoulder. "You've already died once, Phil. You more than anyone else around here should be living your life however the hell you want to."
Coulson laughed, watching her as she moved to the sink and began washing her glass. He finished his own drink, but stayed in his seat.
"Life is shorter than you expect it to be. Might as well make it worth it." Hill told him, drying her hands on a towel. She disappeared, leaving him to sit there and make the final decision himself.
...
He'd been trying to find the right time, when to bring it up, what to say exactly, and then the day just sort of fell upon him.
She was wearing that red dress and those black boots again, playing a game of pool against Triplett in the lounge. FitzSimmons were there as well, watching a movie, and May was reading a book.
Much like the first time, Coulson didn't give anybody any warning before stepping up into Skye's space, backing her up against the edge of the pool table and planting his lips on hers. He felt her hands rest against his face, and then she was gloriously kissing him back, and then she was shoving him away.
"Why do you keep doing that?!" She demanded, out of breath.
"I don't know!" Coulson told her honestly, and she reached forward and pulled him against her again, kissing him soundly. She pulled away and looked at him almost sternly, her hands still on his jaw. They stood there staring at one another, and Fitz was the first to comment,
"What the hell is going on?"
"So this isn't the first time, then," Trip sounded disappointed.
"You owe me fifty bucks." May didn't even look up from her book.
"I... Feel like I should have noticed something." Simmons sounded disappointed with herself.
Coulson ignored all of them and continued staring at Skye, all the questions he wanted to ask her bouncing around in his mind. He saw the determined look in her eyes, and he knew that Hill had been right.
This was worth it. She was worth it.
A/N.2: I couldn't help but add in a little dirty dancing, given the venue, and all.