Skimmons "I'm sorry I kissed you, but that guy over there was checking me out and I wanted him to stop."

disclaimed

the one where skye's probably going to get murdered and jemma's conveniently located

...

Skye's probably about to get murdered. Like—legitimately murdered. And it's all Grant's fault.

Well—like, he's not the one about to murder her, nor is there really any way for him to know that she would come to a club alone, but he was the one that said he was too tired to go out with her, which led her to come to Icer on her own, which led to her being ogled by a guy that was definitely a serial killer.

God. She's going to inspire an episode of Criminal Minds, isn't she?

He's been staring at her for, like, a century, and the club is busy, thrumming with energy, enough people to drown her out if she screamed. Jesus. Of all the ways to go.

As his eyes make what has to be the twentieth trip up and down her body, Skye starts to panic and scan for escape routes. When she glances back, Stalker Boy is making his way to her.

Haha. Shit.

Someone bumps into her elbow, bouncing up to the bar and asking for whatever is on tap. Skye takes one last desperate look around, and then—

"Hey, just go with this?" she half yells above the crowd, spinning around and kissing the first pair of lips she sees.

Which are very soft.

Shit.

She figures out that her savior is a girl, mainly from the way that her hips curve into her waist and also boobs, pressed against Skye, who's probably drawing this out too long.

Drawing back hastily, Skye chances a look over her shoulder in the direction that Stalker Boy was coming from, and she sees him, shoulders slumped in defeat, so god bless that.

She turns back to her Mystery Girl, who's standing shell shocked, hands frozen in the air in front of her. Maybe this wasn't the best plan?

"Oh my god," Skye grimaces. "I'm so sorry."

Mystery Girl's mouth opens and closes silently, her eyes wide.

"I'm so, so sorry," Skye yells. "I shouldn't have kissed you like that, but there was this really creepy guy? And he's been staring at me all night and I just wanted him to leave me alone, you know? Oh god, I'm so—."

Mystery Girl surges forward suddenly, no longer frozen, and her hands are on Skye's hips, and yeah, yep, her lips are really very soft, and her lipgloss tastes like raspberries?

Oh my god.

When Mystery Girl pulls away, it's Skye's turn to freeze, dumbstruck. "We're even now?" Mystery Girl laughs nervously, and wow, yeah, that's a British accent and Skye's super gay.

"Heh," Skye manages to choke out. "Yeah."

"Are you-?" Mystery Girl starts, concern in her eyes. "Are you okay? Oh, goodness—do you not like girls?"

"No!" Skye shouts, the tequila shots she did earlier coming at her with a vengeance. "No—I mean—yes, I do like girls, I just-?" She struggles for words, mind still stuck on those lips and how her heart pounded and—"I just wasn't expecting you to reacting like that?"

Mystery Girls runs a hand through her hair, blushing, from what Skye can tell in the dim lighting of the club. "Well, I—I suppose I wasn't expecting to react like that, either. But—ah, not every day that you're kissed by a pretty girl." She offers Skye a shy smile

Wow. Yeah. This is turning out to be a great night. Skye silently thanks Grant for being an eighty year old at heart.

"I—uh. I'm Skye," she says, toying with the ends of her hair.

"Jemma," Mystery Girl responds, smiling wider. "Can I buy you a drink?"