A/N: From the Tumblr list "Nonsexual Acts of Intimacy" – Shoulder rubs.
After-Mission Interlude
"Come here, oh, you gallant knight!" Skye says, her voice light, teasing, and his lips curl into a weak smile in spite of himself.
He's half dead on his feet, beyond exhausted; he hasn't slept in almost forty hours, he's been knocked around, beaten, and shot (the bullet hit his vest, but it still hurt like hell). He is more than happy that the op is finally over and he's at home at last, and there is nothing he wants more at the than some sleep.
"Gallant knight?" he chuckles weakly, walking to the bed. "More like a jackass… ugh," his sentence ends in an undignified groan as he all but falls into bed, stomach first. He's just showered, washing away all the grime and sweat, his skin still feels almost damp, and the sheets are pure heaven. He lets his eyelids fall.
He hears Skye's giggles jingle like delicate, silver bells in the distance.
"No more Galavant for you, mister."
He smiles into his pillow.
The next moment he feels the mattress dip, then Skye is climbing on top of him, settling down on the small of his back, her slender, gentle hands on his shoulders.
"Skye…" he mumbles weakly, although even he doesn't know whether it's a protest or a plea.
"It's okay," she says softly, pressing a ghost of a kiss under his ear. "Just relax."
And then her hands are back on his shoulder, kneading gently. He's sore all over, but her hands are magic; she massages all the pain and stiffness and tension away, making him feel as if he was soaring on a cloud, only her weight anchoring him to the here and now.
She is talking to him in soft, hushed tones, but he couldn't tell what about. There's half a thought forming in his barely-awake mind to ask her about it later – once he is more rested –, but he gives in to sleep before he could make up his mind about it.
He dreams of spring sunshine and chocolate eyes and teasing laugh.
