Prompt: skyeward arguing then they're kissing


She's not easy to argue with.

He sits with his arms crossed on the counter, the ever-present frown on his face deepened and his brow furrowed. He really, really hates arguing with Skye. Ward prides himself on being logical, on arguing facts and explanations and truths, and Skye is sitting across from him repeating his words like a child.

"Just talk to me," he huffs.

"Just talk to me," she mimics. It's infuriating.

She refuses to meet his gaze, wide eyes clouded with anger and hurt. Neither is sure why they're arguing anymore, just that she got mad during training and stormed off to have a drink and now they're here.

"Skye-" he beings once more, and she simply glares. "God, Skye, let me talk to you. Stop being immature." This makes her sigh and look up, resigned to her fate. "Why are you so pissed off?"

There's a beat of silence with only the whirring of the plane in the background, and then Skye speaks. "You just told me to let you talk and to stop being immature. Listen to your own advice." He opens his mouth to object, so she quickly raises her hand to shush him. "See? Don't talk. My turn because, yeah, I get it. You're the spiffy SO. It's literally your job to be a know-it-all. But you have this, like, superiority complex. You have this 'I must protect people' thing, and, look, it'd be nice and all, 'cept it's happens to be annoying as hell." Her turns aren't entirely true, for he has saved her life several times thus far, and she knows his protectiveness is something to admire.

Yet his face is carefully blank, and for some reason that angers her even more. "Dammit, Ward, you don't even care. I know you're here to train me, but I need you to accept that I'm not completely incompetent. You came in with the idea that working with a team would be the end of your whole damn world because you were better than everyone, and you need to let that go." Skye takes a deep breath and he's struck by the surprising logic of her argument, the fact that it rings true, much to his shame.

His face is still composed, but it is a curious blankness - raised eyebrows, an incredibly slight smile - in the place of forced, angry composure. Yet when he turns to talk to Skye, she's gone.

She's not quiet - she never has been - so it's easy to trace her footsteps as heading toward her bunk. He stands, knocking over her shot glass in the process, and runs out without bothering to pick it up. It's probably a violation of about ten of Coulson's cleanliness and security rules, but he couldn't care less.

Ward doesn't know what to say to her when he catches up, yet he tugs on her sleeve, and she spins, and they're awkwardly face to face.

So he kisses her like it's the most natural thing in the world, and he's struck by the frightening realization that it was. It was entirely natural.

She kisses back for a long moment before realizing what's happening and pulling away. "Wha-?"

Ward shrugs in almost helplessness and offers a quiet, "I'm sorry." He doesn't say anything else because she's nodding; she gets it and she gets him, and he wants to be more scared than he is.

She doesn't argue when their lips meet again, and then again. That's probably a good thing given how much he hates arguing with her.