Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.
Sometimes Grant honestly feels like a babysitter. Or an unfortunate older brother tasked with taking care of his wayward younger siblings.
He is sitting behind the wheel, listening to Skye and Jemma sing – way off key – and giggle in the backseat – because they had a girls' night out, and somehow he ended up picking them up from the bar where they had consumed, he presumes, one too many cocktails.
Fighting the urge to frown and massage the bridge of his nose (it's really late and his patience is paper thin by now), he rolls onto the lowered ramp of the Bus and puts the car into Park. By the time he gets out, the back door is already open and the girls are climbing out – Jemma seems more steady on her feet, while Skye almost trips in her own foot, so he stands beside her and grips her elbow to study her.
All he gets is a slightly annoyed look.
"I'm okay," Skye says as she half-heartedly tries to free her arm. Jemma's already halfway up the spiral staircase, oblivious to the fact that they have stayed behind. "I'm not drunk," she sways again, all but falling against his chest. "Just a little tipsy."
"Make that very tipsy," Grant corrects her with raised eyebrows as he leads her to the staircase. He briefly contemplates simply picking her up and carry her bridal-style, not really trusting her balance right now, but then she takes the first step successfully, so he decides against it, and simply stands right behind her so he'll be able to catch her if she falls.
"Ah, potato, pothato," she dismisses it with a wave of her hand. "Still, I had a grrreat night – I really needed this. I just wish you were there, too," she says as they reach the main deck and she bends down, getting rid of her heels. (He most definitely does not sneak a glance at her ass.)
"Really?" he asks, a little surprised. "Why?"
"The guys there were so lame," she explains as he walks her to her bunk. "They rrreally coulda used a good example." She stops in front of her door and turns around, placing a hand, fingers splayed wide, on his chest. "And you're such a nice guy."
And with that, completely taking him unawares, she stands on the tip of her toes, and presses a quick kiss to his lips.
"Good night, Mr. Nice Guy," she giggles, looking up at him from under lowered lashes, then she disappears into her bunk.
And Grant just stands there, dumbfounded, blinking at the closed door, trying to wrap his mind around what has just happened in the last fifteen seconds.
Then he decides that maybe he should get Skye tipsy more often.
