Debt

Strawberry scented candles lined a path from the living room to the bedroom. Romantic music was playing softly in the background. Melinda quirked a curious eyebrow. "Grant?"

"Right here." Melinda turned to where the voice sounded and gasped softly. Grant was standing by the kitchen, dressed in a sharp black shirt and gray slacks. He looked like the epitome of handsome, much to her approval.

Her mouth opened to compliment him, but all that came out were soft, incoherent sounds that sounded like stuttering.

He smirked and approached her. "Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"

She specifically stated that she did not like being called 'sweetheart', but seeing him dressed like that, with swagger and confidence permeating off of him like a crisp cologne, she found it almost impossible to be angry with him. Almost. "I told you not to call me that, Ward," she said, expression perturbed. He smirked and continued walking toward her.

"I remember. Sweetheart." He drawled out each syllable in a way that sent an electric chill up her spine.

"You're trying to piss me off, aren't you?" she asked, managing to level an appropriate amount of annoyed in her voice. It only made his smirk increase. He kept approaching her, and then stopped when he was within her personal space. She could smell his scent; a tantalizing combination of musk and Aqua Velva®. She very nearly cooed upon smelling it.

"I would be, if I thought that me doing this was actually pissing you off." He was confident, bordering smug. She hated that she found it arousing. "You see, if, say, Fitz," he snorted at the thought, "called you that, you'd likely bite his head off. Coulson could get away with it, but then, he doesn't count since you used to let him fuck you. Me, you actually enjoy it."

She had the presence of mind to remember to roll her eyes, but it came across as telegraphed. "You're delusional." She discreetly rubbed her thighs together. Damn him, he was getting to her.

He just laughed huskily. "Then how do you explain that scarlet flush across your cheeks?" He closed the space between them in an instant. She tried to back away, but his hand cupped her rear, keeping her close. Instead of following through on the urge to deck him, her body became hot, face more flushed than before. She inadvertently let out a soft whimper when he placed his other hand on her butt and gave it a squeeze. "Feeling ruttish? How about I take you into that bedroom and… handle that for you?" He leered at her, smiling cockily and crushed his lips against hers. She made no effort to stop him; if anything, she pushed the kiss deeper.

She ended the kiss after a time, breathing heavily. "Take me, you bastard," she growled out with a randy smirk.

Melinda awoke to what sounded like a laugh. She assumed it was still Grant, well, dream Grant, and thought nothing of it. She looked at her watch; 7:14 AM. She had slept in the hospital room all night. Not exactly her intention, but she wasn't complaining. Actually, her neck and back were, and they were making legitimate arguments. She sat up from the bed, where she had been resting her head on Grant's bed. Her eyes cast over his still body. Much to her disappointment, he was still sleeping. "Good morning," she muttered.

"Good morning."

She jumped at the sudden reply. "Phil?" Coulson was sitting in a chair by the window, just out of her immediate peripheral vision. She had turned her chair to face his the bed, so she didn't see him.

He smiled. "Sleep well?"

There was a certain knowing tone in his voice. Shit, he must have been the one laughing. Meaning that she was talking in her sleep. Fuck, did she say Grant's name in the dream? No, she didn't think so? Wait! Shit, she did; right at the beginning. Twice, even.

Fuck.

"I slept fine," she answered. So much so that she needed to change her underwear.

"Sounded like it. …Is there something you'd like to tell me, Melinda?"

She managed to look confused. He didn't exactly look like he bought it, and cast his gaze just below hers. She followed it and realized in horror that her fingers were still interlaced with Grant's. You have got to be joking. "I…" What could she say? He had surely seen her hand interlocked with Grant's, and heard her say at least one racy thing in her sleep. She opted for half the truth. Wait, the whole truth. "I'm just scared."

"Of?" He frowned and leaned forward.

"Ward… I should be in this bed. He took my place because… I don't exactly know. But he did and it saved my life. I'm in his debt, and if he dies, then I'll never," see him again, hear his voice again, be held by him again, "be able to repay that debt. I'll spend the rest of my life indebted to a dead man."

He considered what she said, and then frowned. "But, holding his hand?"

Shit. Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? "Machines fail, Phil. You know that. I'm just making sure his pulse is where it needs to be." She did not have feelings for Grant Ward.

"But, you've been holding it all night."

She just shrugged. "I… just didn't want… to wake up and he's gone." That made absolutely no sense, but she prayed that he bought it. But why, when it was the truth?

It was a long moment before he responded. "If that's what you want to believe, then I'll drop it."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He always had a knack for calling her out on her bullshit without actually doing it. Well, if that was how he wanted to play it, then game on. "Okay."

His eyebrows raised. "He's still alive," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

"I'm aware of that."

"Then, why are you still holding his hand?"

"Oh. Right." Reluctantly, more than she thought she was capable of feeling, she allowed his limp hand to slip from her grip. She immediately missed his warmth.

"The doctors will be taking Ward off the brain machine thing today. They've been checking him periodically over night and say they're satisfied with his brain functions. Doesn't look like his brain lost much oxygen."

Doctors? Overnight? "People saw me like this?" She wasn't vain, despite what Grant tried to insinuate. But she couldn't afford for anyone to see her sleeping over his bed and holding his hand. They might have started talking at best and told Director Fury at worst.

He smirked. "Don't worry. Doctors around these parts have an unwritten rule; 'what happens in the hospital room, stays in the hospital room. Agents get hurt everyday, and a lot of things are revealed in these walls. They've learned pretty quickly that they need to keep a lot of things secret to keep their patients from running. You're safe."

She didn't sigh in relief. "Okay." She stood and headed to the restroom to wash up. "Got any toothbrushes in here?"

"Yeah, I stopped by the orthodontist down the hall last night to pick some up."

She opened the medicine cabinet and smirked at the flimsy looking toothbrushes. She grabbed the red one and the toothpaste. "SHIELD is really cheaping out on the toiletries."

"Gotta cut back somewhere." A few minutes later, Melinda walked out, refreshed, but found Phil sitting in her chair. "You spent the night him. The others would like to see him to." He smirked when her shoulders slumped an iota. "I'll work something out so you can stay the night with him, okay?"

She nodded once. She really didn't need to stay the night, just so long as she got to see him. "It's cold in here, so make sure he has more blankets."

Phil nodded. One more reluctant look toward Grant, and then she turned for the door. "Is Barton his replacement?"

"Replacement is such a nasty word in this case. I prefer pinch hitter."

"Surprised to see you still alive. I assume you two talked."

Phil smiled ruefully, and nodded. "That… wasn't a fun conversation, but he eventually understood." She nodded softly. "Go eat something, Melinda. He'll be fine. Promise."

She glared lightly at his insinuating that her concern was for anything other than what she said it was for. "Fine. I'll be back tonight." As soon as dinner was over, she would be there. Because she had a debt to pay, and planned in telling him that she was going to repay it as soon as possible as soon as he woke up.

She did not have feelings for Grant Ward. She was a woman with a debt to repay. Nothing more, nothing less.