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It’s a few weeks before they do more than kiss, brief little stolen moments that seem to exist outside of explanation, outside of categorization. There have been walls, and closets, and here — in Lola — but they never make it back to one of their bedrooms. Without ever discussing it, it’s like they silently agree to keep things light.
(Except light is the wrong word. Even if it’s no more than kissing, nothing about kissing Daisy — touching his hands and lips to Daisy’s mouth and shoulders and neck — nothing about that is light.)
Daisy is the one who pushes things further.
She’s wedged herself into his lap, between his chest and Lola’s steering wheel, and she hovers just a little so that his head is tilted back into the seat, mouth pointed up to meet hers. It’s intense, the way she kisses him tonight in the dim emergency lights of the garage. Her tongue presses just behind his teeth and her hands pin his shoulders to the seat, so that it feels like she’s having her way with him.
(He likes it too much, the thought of Daisy having her way with him.)
And then she pulls back and locks her eyes to his as she snakes her right hand slowly down his chest between them, scratching lightly down over his stomach to run over the front of his jeans, so he can feel her palm curve around his cock.
She smiles, with her lips and her eyes and something deeper than that, as she touches him like this for the first time. He tugs her down into another kiss, his mouth needy and desperate under hers as he thrusts up against her hand, but he’s not sure about pushing this further, pushing this to where it seems to be going.
“Wait, stop,” he manages, the words muffled between their mouths.
Daisy pulls back instantly, looks startled.
“Was that not okay?”
“No,” he shakes his head, sucks in a shaky breath. “I mean yes.” He slides his hands to grip her hips, silently requesting that she stay where she is, perched over his lap. “It was good, I just…”
He can’t seem to put together the words he wants to say, finds himself too completely drawn in by her.
“Coulson?”
She’s still hovering over him, so he’s looking up at her as she blinks at him, and he can’t quite move his eyes away from her mouth, from the way her lower lip glistens.
Coulson’s throat goes dry at the image, at how much he wants to pull her back against him. It’s completely unfair, when he’s just trying to talk to her.
And then she runs her tongue over it, pink and wet over her lower lip like she’s licking the remnants of him, like she’s savoring the taste of him.
“Daisy, stop,” he groans.
“Stop what?” She asks the question with suddenly-focused eyes, completely innocent because she’s not trying to tease him, it’s just that he wants her desperately all the time, just that this is a day that ends in ‘y,’ just that she’s Daisy.
“Fuck,” he curses softly under his breath, and runs his hand up her back and into her hair, tugs her mouth back down against his. She laughs into the kiss even as she returns it, even as she nips at his lower lip, and then she pulls back.
“Why did you wanna stop?” There are still some nerves in her expression, like she’s worried he’s going to say something bad, and it breaks his heart a little that she doesn’t know how wonderful she is. Because the problem isn’t that he wants to stop, it’s actually pretty much the opposite.
Coulson blinks, struggles to articulate what it is he wanted to say — it’s not helped at all by the way she squeezes her hands against his shoulders, by the way her eyes stray back down to his mouth. It almost sets him off again, to see with his own eyes, to feel on his skin how Daisy wants him.
He swallows.
“I want to take you on a date,” he manages, oddly bashful about saying it, given that he just had his tongue in her mouth.
Daisy looks surprised, he thinks, and something he doesn’t exactly understand, like a momentary flash of fear.
“You want to be...official.”
He nods once.
“I like official.”
Which is true. He has liked this, whatever this is that they’ve had, he’s liked it a lot. A lot. But it’s been something growing somehow separate from their entanglements in SHIELD, and that’s not tenable — he knows himself, and actually he knows her, too. Her and him and them, they’re never going to be something compartmentalized from everything else. There was a time in his life where that made him uncomfortable, but it doesn't so much anymore. At least, not with her.
“I don’t…” Daisy swallows, looks at him with big brown eyes that draw him towards her, that have always drawn him towards her. “I don’t have the best track record with official.”
“Me either,” he acknowledges. It’s a fair point.
“But you still want that?”
“With you.” Because he definitely does.
It makes Daisy smile, slow and sweet, and then nod.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. With you.”
“Good.” He smiles, a little too pleased with himself, and he remembers the first girl he asked to go steady back...way too long ago.
Daisy pulls him from nostalgic thought, though, as she leans in and kisses him again, soft after the intensity of before.