~ Series of one shots of the adorable couple, SkyeWard ~
AN: 57 favs and 103 followers?! *sniff sniff* I'm going to cry. You guys are amazing.
The prompt for this one was given by Leo and backed up by Wolf's Edge and OneFineDay. I hope you enjoy this one :)
Leo's prompt:"What about one where Ward hurts himself and Skye gives him a massage?"
Set after 1x08
It was his rhythm. Jab. Jab. Jab jab. His rhythm of the violent punches on the punching bag. He was punishing the poor bag. A form of rage release. The only way he could cope with the hot fire in his chest. And also the fact that he was forced to chase his rookie around the cargo hold because she wanted a 10 minute break and he didn't allow it.
She won.
So there she was, perching obediently on the spiral steps with a creased up face.
"You're kidding," she groaned in frustration as she saw the big bold red words on her laptop screen saying 'Denied'. Low muffles escaped from her mouth as she punched the keys on her keyboard madly, trying to find a way around her problem. Denied. She groaned again.
"What now?" he said, stopping in a middle of a punching spree. She kept her eyes fixed on the screen, still on a typing frenzy but managed to grumble while jiggling her wrist in the air, "This stupid... bracelet."
He threw another two punches then glared at her. She stopped and looked at her panting S.O. with a childish pout. It wasn't him she was annoyed with. It was that damn silver bracelet around her wrist. She understood why Coulson did what he did but to block out her most important daily routine? That was way over the line.
"I can't check on the Avengers," she sulked. He raised his eyebrow and informed, "That's classified."
"No, this one isn't SHIELD based. Some fan made an Avengers website for the entire world to join and discuss their favourite Avenger," she spoke to the skeptical Ward who was worried about her mental health.
"I mean, I need to know if there are new members in the Iron Man brethren and then check what Mr Tony Stark is doing for the weekend and wipe that look of your face, I'm not a crazy stalker fan but I need my daily dose of Stark because oh my god, the man's a genius," she rambled on before stopping for a single gasp of air, "Have you seen his tweets?! Pure gold."
He licked his lips and waved a hand in front of him, "Is this what you during your breaks? Tweet? Do something useful like sit ups."
"Uh, doing sit ups is not taking a break from training, Terminator." She cocked an eyebrow and formed a half-smile. She focused back onto her screen and tried to make full use of the 5 minutes remaining.
He rolled his eyes and continued murdering the punching bag. Jab. Jab. Jab jab. Argh. A sudden sharp soreness surged along his shoulders. He shrugged and stretched out a little, cracking his neck at the same time. "Okay," He breathed in, "again."
Jab. Argh. He shrugged again, slightly rubbing his sore shoulders. It was nothing. Just a sore pain that he had been feeling more and more lately. No biggie.
Jab. Argh. Yeah alright, this time it really hurt him. He circled the bag, rubbing the back of his neck when clearly he should be rubbing his shoulders.
She caught a glimpse of his troubled face and his unusual circling around the bag so she decided to ask, "What's up with you?"
He looked up with a controlled painful expression and shook his head. Lucky for him, she was not one to buy his macho persona. She closed her laptop and placed it carefully at the step just above the one she was sitting on then curved a finger back and forth, "Come here."
"No, you come here and continue," he bantered.
"Yeah no. My break is not over so you can't boss me around just yet," she dominated for which he reluctantly walked to her. She spun a finger. He complied and turned around. She tugged on his arms and forced him to sit down two steps beneath her. Thud.
"What are you doing?" he growled, looking back over his shoulder.
"Shh. Calm down," she asserted before planting a light slap on his strong back. Then grinned. It was a good thing Ward had been busting his ass and working out all these time. It gave her something to appreciate about him. Not that she didn't appreciate him as a person, but the physical aspects of him were quite a bonus, right?
Her hands so casually began to knead his shoulders but he didn't like it at all and not to mention, was exaggeratedly jumpy by it.
"Yes Ward, we're totally having a tickle fight," she told sarcastically, pressing down on his shoulders to tame him. He looked over his shoulder and growled in aggravation. He just couldn't help it. It was a natural reflex for him. He didn't want her to know that fact about him. And he knew she was kidding but he couldn't fully trust her. She was Skye after all. Who knows what she's up to?
She started kneading his shoulders slowly, having to stop every time he flinched. She wasn't an expert but anyone could tell that he had seriously tight muscles. "Relax. I can't massage you if you're all tensed up," she said. He stood up and scowled, "I didn't ask for a massage, did I? Come on." He motioned her to the punching bag.
"But you need one, pronto," she gave him puppy dog eyes and tugged on his arms again to force him to sit down in front of her. He growled but gave in anyway.
"Your muscles are really knotted," she informed, distracted by his condition. He said nothing and tried to relax but he just kept cringing. It wasn't just due to the ticklish sensation he was getting. Don't get him wrong; he was strangely comforted by her touch but he sat there with a glower on his face, thinking why on earth he allowed her to massage him. He could've walked away. He could've grabbed her and tied her upside down then used her for a punching bag so that she would learn her lesson for not concentrating during their training sessions. Yet, he found himself surrendering to her small hands.
To her surprise, he was actually quite calm now. His eyes were closed. His squirming had reduced but as soon as she moved her hands near his neck, the flinching fits happened again. Maybe he wasn't ticklish as how she first thought he was. Maybe it was much more than that. She bit her lips and squeezed the lower section of his neck and as anticipated, he squirmed. Yep, it was much more than that.
"It's more than just being ticklish, isn't it?" she whispered into his left ear. He slithered a glare as he opened his eyes and tsked. She frowned and continued running her hands along the curve of his neck, shoulders and down his back. He moaned as soon as she hit the right spot and she, being the mischievous person that she is, pressed harder than she should. She smirked when she felt him trying to contain a painful groan under her fingertips.
His breathing slowed then he heaved a sigh. His stance of a gladiator with head high and shoulders back turned into a submissive slumped shoulder. His stoic wall crumbled. It had begun to crumble bit by bit ever since the first time they met.
He leaned back closer to her as though he wanted to say something. She stopped massaging and kept her hands on his shoulders. His head fell forward, rested his elbows on his thighs then laced his fingers together before he faltered, "I know it's decades ago and you probably think I'm pathetic but he's just imprinted so deep in me that I just can't..." he abated and tightened his jaw. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she breathed out.
"It's okay," she coaxed then carefully wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. He looked down at her, staggered by her actions. Her doe brown eyes looked up into his teary rimmed eyes. That constant strong glare in his eyes was replaced by a look of consternation. She finally saw vulnerability in him and assured herself that he wasn't a heartless machine. He looked away, refusing to let her see into his soul.
"Every time someone gets near my neck..." he began with a soft tone, "I fear they are going to strangle me... Like he did." She snuggled in closer into the curve of neck, understanding that he was referring to his older brother. He swallowed and pointed his nose to the ceiling, biting his lower lip. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to erase the memory but they were knotted so tightly and tangled with his heartstrings that it was all such a huge mess. He couldn't loosen those dark memories without unravelling everything else. Like a fly caught in a wicked black widow's web, he was trapped. Every form of light and freedom was just beyond his reach. He only wanted to find a way out.
She wanted to understand his pain. She wanted to say that she knew exactly how he felt but she didn't. She didn't know how it was to have an abusive brother. She didn't know how it was to cope and live in fear every day. Her pain was different to his. Her pain was a pain of allegiance. The Rising Tide or SHIELD. An invisible line of loyalty. A constant tug of war. However, her problems were the least of her priorities at the moment.
"We're not going to hurt you," she mumbled into his shoulder. He tilted his head to rest on her head and his hand, without hesitation, held hers tightly. She reciprocated his action by tightening her grip around his waist and adding, "I'm not going to hurt you."
His eyes were closed. Her eyes were wide open. His hand was warm. Her hand was cold. His heart maintained a constant steady pace. Her heart was beating fast. Both were scared.
He inhaled the sweet scent of her orange blossom shampoo. A scent he had gotten used to after her numerous attempts of disarming a gun from him. Something so sweet couldn't possibly hurt him, right? She was going to be there for him whether he liked it or not and he was sure it wasn't the latter. His heart fluttered with not infatuation but affection. She was too diferent from him that she was perfect. Too perfect.
They remained in their position for as long as they could. Peaceful and comfortable. No, they didn't need more but less was not desirable. They didn't want a conversation. They didn't want to fall to pieces. What they had was tasteful. Just having their bodies close and their fingers intertwined was enough.
He cleared his throat then released her hand. She lazily let him go and stood up at the same time that he did. He faced her. She stood a few steps above him, towering just slightly but that didn't stop them from gazing longingly into each other's eyes. Both were speechless, lost for words but that's how they liked it. Silence was their answer.
"Your break went 10 minutes over. You know the drill," he broke the silence, implying a 150 push ups demand which she immediately understood.
"Well, your wiring's all knotted in there. Should I get Fitz or should I get the x-ray glasses and check you out myself?" She arched an eyebrow and curved a sly smile. He rolled his eyes and scoffed a chuckle before dragging her towards the punching bag instead, "Come on, we'll go easy."
She groaned. "Tis torture, not mercy."
AN: What up Shakespeare reference :P Have you guys read Brett Dalton's tweets?! Pure gold!
So for the next one, I was hoping you guys could give me a ONE WORD prompt and as usual, Eenie minie miney mo :)
