Steal Me Away

Skye closes her eyes, and tries to concentrate on what her other sense are telling her: the soft murmur of the ocean, the waves licking her feet, the salty wind caressing her skin and lifting her hair, the scent of palm trees and citrus and summer in the air.

She lets out a little, content sigh, all the tension leaving her body. She really needed this.

It was a bad mission – a trap, really. They barely got away, and one of them, a rare agent who stayed even of the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. was hit badly – Skye had blood on her hands, his blood, and she just had enough. She felt like combusting, she wanted to cry and shout and claw at her skin, because it was too much, she wasn't ready for this, she wasn't…

But Grant helped – he always did, in his silent way. He led her away from the hangar, away from the horrors, into their shared bunk; he helped her to get rid of her dirty, blood-stained clothes, and made her stand under the shower. He didn't leave her until he knew she'd be okay.

She was already curled up in bed, wearing one of his old, faded shirts, the covers pulled to her chin when he returned. He picked up her laptop and brought it over to her.

"I need you to create two false identities – one for me and one for you. They don't have to be airtight – just something that gets us through airport security," he told her.

"Why?" She blinked up at him with wide eyes. He didn't answer right away – at first, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, pushing her hair back.

"Because this time tomorrow, we'll be sitting on a plane going… I don't know. Somewhere tropical and clichéd. Like the Bahamas. Or Hawaii. I don't care. But I'm taking you on a vacation."

And that's what he did – within four hours he managed to convince Coulson to give them a couple of days off, chose a location, booked plane tickets and a hotel room under their false aliases, and packed her suitcase. And the next morning they were already leaving the base.

And now… now they are here.

A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist.

"Hey," Grant whispers into her ear, kissing her neck. "I wondered where you went."

She gives him a little shrug, leaning against his tall frame.

"I just missed the ocean, I guess." She turns around, facing him, and putting her arms around his neck. "Thank you for doing it for me," she says, looking deep into his eyes. She really is thankful – because even if only for a couple of days, she can be a silly girl and pretend that everything is right in her world; that she's just a girl on vacation on a tropical island with her boyfriend whom she is head over heels in love with.

He smiles down at her – his smile is something she thinks she'll never get enough of.

"It was the least I could do. And anyway," his arms tighten around her middle, pulling her closer, "do you know what day it is?"

She gives him a little frown – she is sure she should know what day it is, but she just has no idea –, then shakes her head.

He doesn't answer right away, but puts his hand under her chin and gently tilts her head so he can kiss her lips.

"It's our anniversary," he tells her when they pull apart. "It was one year ago today that I first met you."

She just can't help it – breaking the serenity of the moment, she bursts out laughing.

"You really want to celebrate the anniversary of the day when you put a bag on my head, pulled me out of a van, and then we kept playing and insulting each other in the cage?"

He shrugs, his smile widening into a grin.

"Well, you pretty much turned my life around that day. I think it's worth celebrating, so…" there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that comes out so rarely, but something she absolutely adores. "…Can I at least buy you a drink?"

She laughs, burying her face in his chest.

"I want a piña colada – in a pineapple, with a little umbrella and a curly straw. Do you think they have that stuff here? Because if they don't, I'll deeply disappointed in this place." She grabs his hand, squeezing his fingers, and starts leading him back to the bar. "And then maybe some Sex on the Beach?" she adds with a wink.

He chuckles then grabs her by the waist and picks her up, holding her bridal style, eliciting an amused squeal from her.

"I like where your mind is at," he tells her.

"I hate you a little bit right now," she tells him hours later, lying in bed, sated, blissed out and on the verge of falling asleep, as he draws nonsensical patterns on her naked back.

"Why?" he asks, amused.

She lets out a little groan.

"Because you set the bar too high – how the hell am I gonna top this for our actual anniversary?"