Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Why do we have an acronym for everything?” she asked with frustration, tossing the manual into the chair as she abruptly stood.

“It’s like having to memorize it twice.”

“It’s a proven technique for retaining information,” he said, raising his eyebrows from his desk at the sudden flutter of movement and noise.

“But ours are the worst.  I mean, come on.  Field Utilization Combat Kiosk?”

Coulson’s recall didn’t quite catch up with his cognition in time.

“F.U.C.…”

When it did, he pursed his lips, glaring at her.

“Skye.”

She slowly smiled in return.

“Almost had you,” she said mischievously.

“Hmm,” he said, and she caught the smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

His eyes went back to reviewing the invoices they'd hacked from Quinn Worldwide.  It was a needle in a haystack, but it was their needle in a haystack.

“I guess I’m going to take a break,” she said aloud, and when he didn’t reply, fidgety, she began to look around at the objects and curios on the nearby office shelves.

“Is this prehistoric or…”

“Chitauri,” he said, looking at her holding the bone bookend in her hand. “Fury had them made from one of the creatures from the Battle of New York. Beast of burden, we called them Leviathans...living airship.”

“I saw the videos,” she said, making a face and putting it back down. “Souvenir,” she added, with a pat.  “Do you…like having that here?”

“A reminder, I suppose,” he said, contemplating the question.  “What I survived.”

“I would’ve gone for the t-shirt,” she said, running her hand over a helmet of some kind.

Peering over at her, he watched his arrangement be slowly tipped and touched just out of place.

“Skye, when we agreed that you would study in my office,” he started, “It was on condition that you wouldn’t…”

“Be a distraction?” she said, finishing his thought.  “Yes, I remember, and,” she leaned against the shelf and knocked a rounded item off of it as he frowned, her trying to quickly catch it and missing.

“Sorry,” she bent down to pick it up.  "Besides, most of my time in here has been dedicated to hunting down Quinn, and jumping between the two is giving me a headache."

“You feeling nervous about the exam?” he asked, sitting back in his chair.

“Not really,” she said, replacing on the object on the shelf. 

“But,” she continued, walking over and sitting on the edge of his desk. “If you were to evaluate me right now, what level would you assign me?  Sir.”

“Level One,” he said, not missing a beat, and closing the folder. 

Because, clearly, no work was getting done here.

Skye huffed and tossed her head back. “Come on.”

“The process is just as important as the end game, Skye,” he said, standing with a smirk and buttoning his jacket front.

“I have been processing away,” she said. “I just happened to process you right out from under CENTIPEDE’s grubby little…crawly…feet," she added as her eyes followed him around his desk.

“And I’m grateful for that, as you know.” 

Coulson stood in front of her as she blocked his path.

“Like, Level Four grateful?  Or Level Five?”

She was being a little bit smug, pushing it.  Making it hard for him to resist.

“I don’t tend to express my gratitude in levels, Skye,” he said, staring back at her, a hint of challenge in his eyes.

“No levels, okay,” she said, fluttering her eyelids nervously.  "Then..."

“More like all-at-once.”

It came out very soft and with a step forward, he was watching her breathing change when they both turned at the tap at the door.

Ward was standing there wearing an unreadable expression, half leaning in.

Coulson let out his own breath, glanced for just a second at Skye, then looked up at Ward, wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“Russo is on the line.  Says he'd like to hear what you have to say.”

"Great."

Chapter Text

He likes having her in his office.

Although this is about tracking down Quinn, it’s also become something habit-forming and he finds himself itching to put their teamwork to field test.

The way she thinks, rather, the way she leads…he can see this working out very well.  Not just for her, but for the team.  She’s already contributed to strongly to several ops, she’s so completely capable already; he knows there’s really nothing she can’t accomplish if given the right resources and opportunity.

When she takes her exam, she’ll pass with flying colors, no doubt.  She’ll be a Level One and that will give her access to SHIELD.  They won’t be able to dismiss her as simply a consultant anymore, or use her history with the Rising Tide to shut her out.

Where he sees this whole thing headed, really, is to cut her loose and eventually it will get Fury’s attention.  He’s had protégés before, but this is different.  He’s not going to push her, she’s going to carve her own path through SHIELD and he’s going to fall behind and have her back.

He catches her watching him from the corner of his eye; that look on her face like she already knows what’s on his mind.

Giving her a small smile, he can feel the buzz of excitement and wonders if she’s feeling or seeing something he can’t.  A little nervously, he thinks about giving too much away.

She’s had a lot of things holding her back in the past and he doesn’t want to overwhelm her now while she’s got so much on her plate.  She’s not one to shrink back from a challenge, but he sees how she tries to minimize herself, tuck herself out of the way, and putting her out front will probably make her feel very exposed.

A lot of this time together has been him letting her know he trusts her lead, that he sees her as an equal, not just as his protégé.

He finally set that aside when she rescued him out of the desert.

The truth is, she’s been rescuing him, resuscitating him, and he wants her to teach him. 

To see things the way she sees them.

“You’re doing it again,” she says, breaking the silence.

He glances back down at the file in front of him.

“Doing what?”

But, he already knows.  He’s been doing it a lot lately.  When they’re shut away in here, he finds himself staring.  Daydreaming about the future.  There’s not a version of it that doesn’t have her in it.

“Is there something wrong with my face?” she asks.

“No,” he says, looking up.  “It’s a very nice face.”

“Then…”

This other thing, though, that is what will land him in real trouble, he knows.  She’s been prodding around the edges.  He’s trying to figure out what it means.  If she’s wanting something more than just his support and approval.  And what that means.

He doesn’t want his overtures to be misinterpreted as something inappropriate.

It all might look a little inappropriate.

“I was thinking about you running SHIELD someday,” he blurts out. “That’s all.”

She has this face she makes, where she wants to believe what he’s saying, but isn’t sure that she can just yet.  It’s what she’s wearing right now.

“You don’t believe me?” he asks, crossing his hands over the file and leaning forward slightly.

“Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you, sir?” she teases.

“A guy’s allowed to dream.”

He wishes he could take it back the second it comes out of his mouth, because it’s a little embarrassing. She looks like someone just dangled something shiny in front of her.  This is about to be picked apart and examined.

“If I’m running SHIELD,” she starts, playing along, “Where does that leave you?”

“Watching your blind side,” he replies.

“So, you relish the idea of me bossing you around someday? Calling all the shots?” she asks, leaning forward in her chair with a grin.

“That’s not going to be a problem for me,” he answers, hushed, underneath his breath.

He knows it’s now in that territory.  He’s not just looking at her with admiration, he’s looking at the line of her neck and the way her hair is falling down one shoulder, curling over her arm.  He's thought about touching her hair one too many times.

As much as he is desperate to make her think all of his efforts are not about this, he’s finding it harder to keep those thoughts at bay.  He admires her more than anything else, but…

She is so beautiful.

The fact that she’s sitting on the other side of the desk gives him a small amount of comfort.  He wouldn’t want to be completely found out and desire that's curling in him is just intensifying the longer they stare back at one another.

If this desk wasn't in the way, how she's looking at him right now.  He's not sure...

"Coulson."

May's voice, flat and stern cuts through it like a knife, and just like that, the moment is lost.

His eyes immediately turn towards the sound of her voice.

"May."

He watches her eyes slowly linger on Skye as she tilts her head, and Skye sits back in her chair, goes back to her tablet.

May's eyes flicker at Coulson and he can see the look there.  May's stamp of disapproval.

Of course, May can't really talk since she's having sex with Ward, but, that doesn't make it sting any less. It actually digs in him a little deeper because he told her that these kinds of things are really not the best of ideas. 

Nothing has happened.  Nothing is going to happen.

"The team's waiting, whenever you're ready."

For the op they designed.  The op she designed.

"Skye?" he asks.

"Whenever you are."

Chapter Text

He'd been carrying around the unbearable weight of losing her.

And so, he had done something very rash, very foolish.

He had just wanted to save her life, not turn her into something inhuman.

It dawned on him then that this was becoming a common occurrence.  The rashness.  She inspired something…rebellious in him.  Maybe even bordering on...

Traitorous.

He's telling her everything, what a bastard he was, doing something so horribly desperate and selfish.  Because, he couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

And she's just looking at him calmly, happy to be alive, and shrugging at him.

"...So what?"

The last 48 hours were spent going through all of his shadow contacts, trying to find out about Project: TAHITI and what that thing was.  Because this didn’t just involve him now.

And he still had nothing.

Only what he had seen with his eyes, and the knowledge that this facility had existed, and no one knew even a word about it. 

"At least we're in the dark together."

Suddenly, he understands.  She's not going to let him continue to wallow in self pity, she just wants to keep moving forward.  What kind of cards has life dealt her to allow her to say and do this after what she's just been through? He wants to know, he wants, so badly to feel that about his own circumstances.

Part of him wanted her to reject him, wanted her to tell him she'd had enough.  He was giving her an exit and if she took it, he would completely understand.

But she's still right here.  Beside him.

He wishes she could understand just why he's so angry.

Fury wasn’t returning his calls. 

He had better have a good explanation for this.

Someone had better have one.

All the more reason for her to advance.  The pressing urgency of it hits him.  They will both be able to work SHIELD from the inside, get some real answers.

"You mean...the Clairvoyant," she says.

"Yes," he answers.  The trigger man, Ian Quinn is sitting in a cell.  Hopefully, more miserable than he's ever been in his life.  And it was because of him; they wanted him to come running.

Hurting him through her. Shooting her and leaving her to bleed out like that...

It did hurt. It might have killed him, whatever is left of him.  This is not what she deserves.

"Looks like we're going to be running ops again," she says nudging him with her foot from her place on the medbed, trying to lighten the mood.

He realizes he's made his way very much into her personal space once more. He needs to stop that.

"I'm setting you up to take the exam as soon as possible, if you're ready for it," he continues, wanting to come to agreement on a few things before they move on.

"Of course, whenever...," she nods.

"Because I'm tired of following breadcrumbs, Skye. I'm going to shake things down for a change."

She looks a little taken aback at this new demeanor of his, cocks her head slightly.

"Are you thinking of being a bad boy?" she says, joking at the seriousness of his expression.

Immediately, she bites her lip when she sees his reaction, like she knows she's gone too far.  He stares back at her in silence.  She probably was just attempting silly, but it's too late, the thought is immediately lodged in his brain and is quickly heading south.

Skye looks a bit panicked for a moment as he doesn't say anything, then he swallows and leans forward, his hands coming to rest on the top of the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I am now," he answers.

It's too much for her to resist and she has her hands around his neck and then their mouths are locked together and he knows, knows, she's been wanting this just as much as he has.

And very much in the way he had feared.

It was hard to feel too fearful at the moment, with his hand winding in her hair and her groaning as he nudged the skin at her neck, tasting her, hearing an actual ache in her voice that didn't sound like pain or frustration, but something almost too wonderful.

"Skye."

He says her name like he's breathing it in, and her hands are on his face, her shoulder shrugging him, guiding him back towards her mouth and then he feels her tongue flicker against his lower lip, and all he can think is that he wants inside her, any way that she'll have him.  He shouldn't, but he wants to be that close.

Her mouth opens up under his and he's slowing them down, kissing her back leisurely, tracing the roof of her mouth, pulling at her soft lips, his teeth raking over her jawline to the sound of her sighs.  

Like they aren't in danger of being found out, like he has all the time in the world.

Right now that's all he wants.

"I like you, like this," she says, her eyes roving over his face, landing on his ruddied mouth, as her thumb brushes against it.

His hands are on her hips, tugging at her just ever so slightly.

"I need you, Skye."

The look on her face is so focused, like she's answering some kind of challenge, her fingers are threaded through the hair on the back of his head and her mouth is on his again, hungry, needy and he finds her arching herself up into him as his fingers dig into her sides, lifting and grabbing.

He lets out a loud moan at the friction and Skye stops him with a quick kiss and a laugh.

"Pretty sure you meant to keep this a secret?"

Relaxing he sets her back on the medbed and she puts a finger over his lips.

"Although," she continues, looking up at him through her lashes. "I wouldn't mind hearing it turned all the way up.  If you get my drift."

A smile has plastered itself across his face. 

He's just so happy that she's here with him.  Alive.

"Okay," he answers, a surrendering laugh. "Okay."

Chapter Text

The drawer slid open and he looked down at the leather case inside.  It had sat there for two days, tucked away from her view.

Hers.  

And she had earned it, wholly.  It was just a matter of timing now.

He felt like a stone skipping across a pond, going forward, forward, but wanting to sink, be swallowed up.  There was no time for sinking at the moment and designing the op was distraction enough between them.

The way they had switched so easily into the mission amazed him, the way they just seemed to move with each other instead of against.

"Even if the senior agents agree to this," Skye had said, "I don't have authorized access to SHIELD."

"Leave that to me," he answered.

The touches and glances he shared were his ways of reassuring her.  At least half-a-dozen of his sentences had been started or ended with, "Once things slow down," along with a quick glance and watching her small smile in reply, even in front of the rest of the team.

He was pretty sure May suspected.  She had a few tells, and suddenly she was around, like he might trip over her.

Kissing Skye had just made him feel more confident in the end.  Despite his initial fears, what had actually happened (as things often did with Skye), what he thought might be an obstacle, ended up playing to their strengths and truthfully, it had lifted off the pressure of loss and loneliness and harboring guilt for feelings that it turns out weren't so unrequited after all.

The fact that his office was no longer their sanctuary, that it was filled with May and Fitz and Simmons coming in and out talking tracking rounds for ICERS and GH-325 reports, didn't phase him.  It was as though the whole team was propelled forward at once, waiting for him to pull the trigger.

The only one strangely apart was Ward. 

Some distance was allowed for what happened after Lorelei. Although Ward wasn't willing to talk about it, and neither was May, something had changed, and based on what he had seen in that hotel room in Las Vegas, Ward needed to talk whether he realized it or not.  If it didn't happen soon, he might have to make it an order, but he wanted to give him the chance to take his time with it first.

His hand reached out and fingers lifted the leather case from the desk, opening it and looking at the badge inside.

Fury giving him his badge just out of high school, his senior year when his good grades had gone bad and his natural abilities had gotten him into trouble with the local authorities culminating with the Bishop incident (it had really just started as a prank, but the problem was the head of the diocese had no sense of humor and stealing his baby Jesus and painting it black had been just the thing to push all of his buttons).  He had evaporated his own opportunities for college, had decided he didn't need the system after all.

Fury had told him that day, that he could spend the rest of his life being a putz and he was probably just funny enough that someone might actually consent to marry his sorry ass, but maybe he'd like to think about changing the world instead?  He had told him more, but that was the gist of it.

And he liked the idea of changing the world.  He always had.

The parallels weren't lost on him.  Skye.  The way she saw things.

He felt today like he had that day.

So, he was going to use his privilege to drag the senior agents on the Bus, haul them to 50,000 feet, and let them see him open that door for her.

They would get those answers.  Together.

Then, when things did slow down, he would tell her how he really felt.  His words the other day had been insufficient, not that she seemed to mind him lacking for words.

But, he needed her to know what she meant to him.

This thing in his hand stood for something.

It was a promise.  That he was here for her.  To have her back all the way.

To help her change the world.

 He couldn't wait.