The first time Coulson tells May he loves her.
One of my favourite things living in China was being able to buy cheap roses, I loved the black ones with gold glitter on the petals. I'd never seen them before I moved there.
I don't really know where the idea for this came from but I enjoyed writing it. I don't actually know if this suits May and Coulson but the way she was opening up to him while still being guarded seemed right when I was writing it. Also, this is not the first time I've thought that Mays childhood might have been a troubled one so I think I will be exploring that a little further at another point in time.
The next (and last chapter) is already written and should be up in a few days. I should have also made clear that, in my head, there is at least a year or so (usually more) time period between each chapter.
Enjoy :)
Coulson glanced over at May. She was sitting quietly in the passenger seat looking out the window.
"How much further?"
May chuckled "You are like a child."
"No, I just don't like not knowing where I'm going."
"You're the one that wanted to drive, so either stop complaining or let me drive." She gave him a very pointed look as she cocked her eyebrow at him. Coulson raised his hands in defeat before putting his eyes back on the road. He was driving through the countryside in China, no idea where they were heading. May had wanted to show him how her family celebrated Chinese New Year; that was all she had said when she woke him up at dawn and told him he had 10minutes to meet her in the car.
They had left the city hours ago, only passing through a few villages since then. They were heading East, he presumed towards the water. He desperately wanted to ask more but in all the years they had known each other she had never mentioned her family or her childhood and he wasn't going to risk her changing her mind.
They had stopped in at a little village for some dinner before getting straight back on the road. This time May insisted on driving, telling Coulson he should get some rest as they still had a few solid hours until they arrived. He resisted at first but as soon as he sank into the passenger seat he quickly felt his body start to give way.
He was awoken hours later when May finally stopped driving.
"We're here."
Rubbing his face, Coulson glanced out the window and smiled. They were at the ocean, and they were the only people there. He followed May outside the car and down to the water, noticing the duffel bag over her shoulder. She stopped just short of the water and sat down, motioning for Coulson to join her.
They sat there in silence, just watching the waves come and go, listening to the sounds of the water and the wind howling around them.
Moving closer to May, Coulson wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into him. He could feel she was just as cold as he was but he didn't say anything. He would sit her with her for as long as she wanted.
"I've missed the water."
Coulson nodded his agreement.
"It calms me. I grew up near the water."
"Here?"
"No, further south."
They looked down the beach at the sound of fireworks, watching as they went off in the sky.
"When I was a child we would let fireworks off for Chinese New Year. It was my favourite time of year."
"Is that what we are doing here? Because I don't remember seeing a firework stand." May chuckled and shook her head, resting it on Coulsons shoulder.
"I haven't set fireworks off since I was 10. My mother wouldn't allow it after the death of her father."
"They were close?"
May shook her head. "My mother didn't get close to anyone."
Coulson frowned, looking down at her but she had already moved on.
"I'd only met him twice before he died but my mother said he was a good man." May reached over and unzipped the bag, pulling out a bunch of roses, some black paint, two paintbrushes and a small tube of glitter.
"My mother had some strange tendencies. Her father died suddenly; there was no time for her to fly back to America. I remember her walking into the garden after she got the call and cutting up all our roses."
May cut the stems off all the roses.
"She called us into the garden and got us to paint them all black."
May unscrewed the paint bottle and handed Coulson a brush. They sat there in silence, painting the roses black. May was gratefully Coulson wasn't asking questions, allowing her to tell the story at her own pace. Once they had finished painting them, she took the cap off the glitter, carefully sprinkling it over the roses.
"And then she got us to cover them in glitter, before we took them down the to the beach."
May collected the roses, leaving a few for Coulson, before making her way down to the water. Coulson followed her as she walked into the water, ignoring the icy feeling he got as the water flowed around his legs.
"We let them go into the ocean." She paused before whispering, "We let him go into the ocean." They slowly rested each rose down on the water, watching as they were carried out to sea.
"We did it every year on the eve of his death. Over time I think it became more about just spending those few hours together, just the three of us."
"Three?"
"My father never participated."
Coulson moved closer to her, slipping his hand into hers.
"Your mother sounds-"
"She had her demons, she needed help but my father would never acknowledge that. May's don't need help, he would say. We help ourselves."
"You never talk about them." Coulson said as he turned her around to face him, struggling to read her expression in the dark.
"I left that life behind when I moved to America" May said with a sad smile. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Being here with me."
"Well you didn't really give me a choice." The look she gave him wiped the smirk off his face.
"There is nowhere else I'd rather be Melinda."
May smiled as she leaned up, pressing her lips against his. It was a light kiss, her lips just barely touching his, but as Coulson wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss she realised how thankful he was that she had shared this piece of her past with him.
Pulling back, Coulson traced her lips with his thumb, smiling as she kissed his fingertip.
"I love you Melinda May."
Leaning back in, he kissed her again. He didn't want to give her time to respond because he knew she wouldn't. He might never get a response from her and he was okay with that. He would always be okay with that.
