A House Is Not a Home

Skye pushes the door open with her foot, grunting under her burden, then walks into the apartment, setting the box in her hands in the middle of the living room, next to the others. Standing up again she lets out a huff and looks around.

A simple, S.H.I.E.L.D.-issue apartment, one of the many identical ones built in the complex next to the new Triskelion (which is still under construction, but who cares?) – a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom and a bedroom. White walls, dark floorboards, basic furniture (both in function and style). Sure, it's the fanciest place she could ever call her own, but it's still… bland. Characterless. And they have – she looks down next to her feet – three boxes (plus two more that Grant is bringing up right now) and two duffel bags.

She pouts at them – there's no way they can make this place theirs.

A soft click, then quiet footsteps interrupt her thoughts as Grant gets back to the apartment, his face hidden behind the box-tower he's holding in his hand. She just can't keep herself from smiling at the sight.

As if he already knows the layout, Grant gracefully puts down and the boxes, then, facing her, he smiles down at her; but, reading her well, his smile soon turns into a small frown.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, reaching out to take her hand.

She shrugs, hugging her arm close to herself self-consciously.

"Yeah, sure, it's just…" She sighs, looking around. "It doesn't feel like home. At all," she confesses to him.

She half expects him to laugh, but he doesn't. Instead he pulls her close, presses a kiss to her forehead, then leads her to the couch. It's black, made if faux leather; it's squeaky and hard and entirely uncomfortable. She wiggles on it as she sits down next to Grant, but she just can't find the perfect position.

"I know what you are feeling – I guess," he tells her after a short pause, drawing her close until her head is pillowed on his shoulder. "It really feels… impersonal."

She nods.

"Exactly. I just can't see it becoming a home."

"Well, I can," he replies, leaning down and stealing a kiss. "I know you can make a home out of it. You already have, really – since wherever you are, that's my home."

She grins against his sweater.

"You are a big, corny robot, aren't you?" she says with a teasing edge in her voice, cuddling closer to him. "Who would have thought?"

Her head bounces a little as he laughs.

"Only for you," he tells her, then falls silent for a while. "And it's not like this is a permanent situation."

"It is not?" she asks a bit surprised, rising a little.

"Of course not," he tells her, looking into her eyes and squeezing her hand. "I mean this place is too small. There's not even a room you could turn into a nursery. Hell, there's not even enough space for a crib in the bedroom."

"I guess you're right. This place really is…" She starts then stops mid-sentence, her eyes going wide as his words sink in. "Honestly?!" she raises her voice, hitting his chest half-playfully. "You are honestly telling me now – and this way – that you want a family with me? Honestly?!" She hits him again, but he just chuckles.

"Honestly," he agrees, then kisses her long and slow. "I want a family with you, Skye," he tells her with complete earnestness, looking so deep into her eyes that she blushes.

"Well, good," she manages to say. "Because I want that, too. With you."

"Great." Another kiss. "Then we'll make this place ours as well as we can…"

"…Yes."

"…Then when we decide that it's time…"

"…When the baby's on the way…"

"Yes. Well, then we move. We'll buy a house – lots of space, and a yard, and we'll even get a white picket fence if you want."

"Nah," she grimaces. "That's too clichéd," she shakes her head, making him laugh.

"Okay – no picket fence," he nods. "But until then what about unpacking?" he asks, standing up and pulling her with himself as well.

"I'm game," she tells him, grinning. "Let's make this place ours as much as we can," she says, suddenly with a lot more enthusiasm, already leaning over and opening one of the boxes. "Oh, but before I forget," she tells him turning back towards him with a mischievous smile on her lips. "I'm calling dips on the right side of the bed. And the closet place."

The corner of his mouth twitches.

"We'll see about that," he tells her calmly, then the next moment he's on her, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her, making her squeal with laughter as they fall back on the couch in a heap of limbs.

(Six months later they are already looking for houses.)