So this one is slightly more SkyeWard than FitzSimmons but that's okay right?

We're on 111 reviews - do you think we can get it to 120 by tomorrow's update?

Seriously though - I'm a bit unsure about my characterisation of Skye and Ward - oh, and the whole May/Ward thing isn't/wasn't happening in this universe - just so you know.

And in case you didn't catch it a couple of chapters ago - come follow me at amelia(-) .com.


In hindsight, a drinking game probably wasn't the best idea Skye had ever come up with.

Though it had to be admitted - neither could it be counted as her worst.

It was supposed to be a fun evening - a couple of movies, some alcohol - May couldn't attend because she was 'too busy flying the plane' - what an excuse that was, and apparently Coulson had paperwork coming out of his ass at this point (she was paraphrasing him, of course) and he needed to at least make a dent in it.

So that left her, Ward and FitzSimmons - plenty enough to have a good time.

She wasn't expecting the two scientists to such lightweights ... they'd only been drinking for - she glanced at the clock, the drunken haze that clouded her eyes making her strain a little bit more than usual to work out the time - oh ... almost four hours, maybe they weren't that lightweight.

Finally registering the noise she realised was her own voice, she decided she should probably spare at least a small portion of her brain to monitor what was coming out of her mouth.

"And how do they become super villains anyway? How is it any different from being a normal villain? Ward? WARD? WARD?."

He was ignoring her, his eyes trained on a point just off to her side - not drunk enough to actually care about anything she was saying, drunk enough to not want to do anything to stop her.

"Ward!" She poked a finger against his forehead.

Or at least, she attempted to - the vision taking a nose dive at the last moment, her finger ending up in the corner of his eyeball instead.

At least his attention was on her now, an almost fierce glare despite the fact that his left eye was involuntarily welling up with water.

"You do cry!" And why couldn't she just stop talking, it's not like it was difficult, just shut her mouth and not let words come out and was she still talking now - she wasn't quite sure.

He still didn't answer, instead just taking her glass off of her and placing it outside of easy reach - the action saying more than words ever could.

And being the mature, responsible adult she was ... she stuck her tongue out at him.


Suddenly curious at the lack of noise from FitzSimmons' direction, she took her eyes off Ward's eye (and really - that had gone red really fast), intending to take a quick glance at the scientists to ensure they weren't accidentally planning mass destruction or something - she would put it past drunk them, considering their earlier conversations.

What she found was slightly more ... weird.

There was something ... familiar in the way Simmons was nestled in her lab partner's (and at that distance, if they were just lab partners, she'd eat her hat - if she had a hat that is) lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her - having (finally) burned through the hyperactive stage in their drunkenness, and now firmly embedded in the 'sleepy' stage. There was a question on Skye's lips that she so desperately wanted to ask (namely what the hell was going on) - but she wasn't sure they'd even hear, so surrounded in their own world as they were.

It was answered in the next breath anyway, as Simmons twisted until she was facing him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, before resting her head on his chest, her eyes drifting into sleep, as he returned to kiss against the top of her forehead, his own head falling until it rested against his own shoulder following his other half into unconsciousness.

That wasn't the actions of a spontaneous drunk, nor of a new relationship, still unsure, still secret - that had history, familiarity, trust and all those other things that a healthy long term relationship was filled with.

Except healthy long term relationships weren't kept a complete secret from their friends (the 's' was necessary, because one look at Ward's face showed that was just as out of the blue to him as it was to her).

"Maybe we should," her eyes caught his as she gestured towards the beds, suddenly uncomfortable for some reason, that probably had something to do with the scientist pair now lightly snoring just a few metres away on the other side of the sofa.

He nodded in agreement, somehow ending up following her - actually looking forward to going to sleep now - when she stopped him just before the entrance to her bunk, a flutter of ... something ... passing across her face as she steeled herself for something - and then she moved, simultaneously going on up to her tiptoes as she pulled him down (and he'd never really thought about the height difference until now - and why was he thinking about it now), pressing her lips against his.

The kiss was sudden and forceful and everything he had ever thought kissing her would be like.

Not that he thought about kissing her.

Often.

And then, just as soon as it had started, she stopped - pulling away with a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

One of her hands jerked upwards, pointing at the ceiling, bringing the plant hanging their into his view.

"Mistletoe," she offered as a way of an explanation and an apology - practically running away and disappearing into her bunk, out of his reach before he could formulate an appropriate answer.

He was never going to be able to get to sleep now.

And his eye still hurt anyway.


Thank you for reading, and please review,
Mia