Why Did You Kiss Me?

It was a minor, momentary lapse of judgement, really – nothing else. He blamed it on… Well, he blamed it on a lot of things, amongst them that she was standing really close to him, close enough that he got a whiff of her shampoo (something savory but sweet, maybe green apple?), and she was gazing up at him from under her lashes, looking innocent and coy all at once, all but daring him to do something, he swears.

And her lips looked damn kissable (kissable – is that even a word?).

So he kissed her.

Caught her face in his hands, keeping her still, then leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, soft but hungry, pleading and passionate, feeling like he could never get close enough to her. She froze for a moment; but then kissed him back with vengeance, wounding her arms around his neck and pulling him close, then opening her mouth, inviting him in.

What a kiss it was!

But then he bit into her lower lip and she moaned – and it was like he was suddenly shaken awake.

What the hell was he thinking?

He pushed her away – he missed the touch of her lips the moment they left his –, and looked down at her, panting, disoriented, and feeling overwhelmingly guilty (she just seemed confused).

"Ward, what…"

"No," he cut in. "It's just… No."

And with that, he turned around and rushed out of the cargo bay, leaving her without any further excuse or explanation.

He spent the remainder part of the day with the following things: avoiding her, lamenting on what an idiot he was, and remembering that kiss.

He did the first thing because damn, specialist or not, he was sure he just couldn't look her in the eye after the… incident. Good thing they were currently docking in a S.H.I.E.L.D. base near Chicago; in the massive administrative building of the base he could easily – well, not hide from her, but merely choose a position where his chance of running into her was close to zero.

As for the second thing – well, he was one, okay? Kissing her was the stupidest thing he could have done. They had a status quo to uphold – him, the S.O., she, the Rookie. Getting romantically involved would have made things terribly difficult (not to mention the protocols they would break). Not to mention that he didn't even ask for her opinion in the matter: did she want to kiss him? (Well, based on the evidence: yes). And what about him being this straightforward? Did she like that?

And anyway, why did he have to kiss her in such an out of the blue manner? Why couldn't he had been a gentleman, and taken her out for a date first? (Because that was the least she deserved.) Damn, why was he such an idiot?

This leaves the third thing, which, honestly, was maybe the most problematic of all, because damn it, it was the best kiss of his miserable life, and he wanted to repeat it. Soon. And many times over.

All of those things presented a dilemma: act like nothing had happened, or own up to it? Both options had their pros and cons – like if he chose the latter, he'd most likely get more kisses out of it. But then again, it would mean facing Skye, which he really didn't want to do.

But that kiss…

His panic over the matter slowly rose as the day ticked by. Also, the fact that no less than three secretaries informer him that a young woman who claimed to be a consultant was looking for him, not to mention all the missed calls and texts from Skye on his cell he refused to open didn't help at all.

He was at crossroads: he wanted to forget to whole incident – blame it all on his stupid lapse in judgement –, but at the same time, he wanted to repeat it.

Still, when he got back to the Bus well after hours, he still hadn't run into the girl, and he considered that a victory. Maybe the next morning, rested and more clear-head he could talk to her…

He only reached until his point in his train of thought, because meanwhile he opened his laptop, planning on taking a look at the world news before bed, only to be met with a wallpaper he definitely did not set.

First of all, because it was pink all over.

He blinked once, twice, then shook his head and made himself focus on the details. It was a photo of the front of a slightly run-down house, the wall painted pink, while the window frames were red, and there was a message in red, cut out paper letters on strings, hanging in front of the door.

He laughed out loud when he read it.

Why did you kiss me?

Oh, Skye. Snarky, little hacker Skye. The girl who is too stubborn to ever give up, and intelligent enough to come up with creative ways to get her message across to him.

And he loved her for that.

Heavens, he loved her.

But admission of it put aside still, the question remained: what to do with the situation at hand?

Although, if he wanted to be honest with himself, he had already made his decision.

Next morning, when Skye came out of her bunk, she found a post it on the sliding door, with a simple message, one single sentence written on it in neat handwriting:

Why did you kiss me back?