Chapter Text
His reluctance to sleep in the same bed poses tactical challenges.
"What if the neighbors see you?" Skye asks.
She tries to sound reasonable and not like a perv. She is being reasonable – but she does feel like a perv. Less than 24 hours undercover and she is definitely starting to get comfortable with the charade.
It's a bit predictable, that.
"Why would the neighbors come into the house to check where I'm sleeping?" Coulson asks.
She shrugs, like it's nothing to her.
"I don't know, but we should be ready for anything. They can't see us being anything less than the perfect marriage. Arcadia is a pretty conservative community. They could have infrared to spy on us. Have you thought about that?"
Pretty conservative community is a mild way of putting it – which makes sense, if they are offering real state opportunities to HYDRA criminals. Skye was a bit surprised there weren't more raised eyebrows when they saw the pair of them, and the obvious unconventionality of such a (pretend) marriage. Or maybe she is just projecting. Perhaps Coulson sees it as perfectly normal, someone like her hanging onto the arm of someone like him.
The old tenants had been the perfect picture of conventionality – except for their old ties to SHIELD, which is why they had chosen to get in touch with Coulson about the sinister underbelly of this utopian place. Which is what had eventually got them killed.
Skye reminds herself she's here to catch bad guys, really bad guys, not play house.
It was fun getting to fool around when they were being introduced to the neighbors, though, scooting against him for the introductions and kissing him on the cheek. Unlike Fitz that one time Coulson didn't tense up, didn't blank out, he just wrapped his arm around Skye's waist casually, raising the stakes. He's pretty good at the whole undercover thing. He doesn't oversell it. He's playing someone very different from himself and yet the little touches, the easy smiles – it's not difficult to imagine this, more or less, is what it would feel like, being in a relationship with Coulson. Skye tries not to enjoy it too much.
"And I'm still bitter that you didn't let me carry you through the threshold," she points out on the second day.
Coulson does this slow blinking thing that lets her know he is fighting the urge to smile at her joke.
"You're no fun."
"This is not meant to be fun," he says, but his tone is friendly. He knows Skye is not disrespecting the couple who lost their lives (presumably, no one has seen the bodies) to warn SHIELD.
"Yeah, I know that."
Is it meant to be this weird? She wonders.
For a moment Skye twists the gold band over her finger. It makes her feel strange. In part because she knows it's something fake, in part beause it's Coulson, and in part because a wedding ring is the kind of stuff she never included in her plans of future. And she still doesn't. And well, she doesn't really care about the ring or about a meaningless piece of paper, that's not it – but the idea of companionship, of having a partner like that, Skye doesn't think she can reject it as she used to.
"And what about our surnames?" she asks. "Holden is such a boring choice."
"You wanted to choose Petrie."
She chuckles. "At least I didn't pick Jimenez again."
"I haven't forgiven you for that one," Coulson says and quirks a little smile as he continues unpacking.
Skye feels optimistic about the mission.
+
It takes Skye two days to convince him to sleep in the same bed.
She is right, of course. She is being the professional one here. He's just letting his personal misgivings get in the way of the mission. He didn't think this could be the case.
He knew this strange arrangement was bound to stir some things up, that's why he pretty much left the preparations to Skye on her own. Because he didn't want to think about the details.
Skye had the right instincts picking their fake identities, he's impressed. At this point he still has the ability to be surprised by her. She was smart making his character Robert Holden a widower – people look more kindly on a guy who shows up with a wife more than twenty years his junior when he has gone through the trauma of losing a spouse. For a person who hasn't been properly educated in social interaction that choice shows a lot of insight on Skye's. It also tells him that she is aware of how inappropriate the assumption of a romantic relationship between people like them looks, from the outside. She might even agree with this point.
He's just doing it again, Coulson reflects, he's dragging his personal feelings into this.
Sleeping in the same bed is not as awkward as he'd imagine. There is no alarming morning scene where they find they have accidentally tangled limbs during the night as he feared. No such thing. He always finds Skye in the exact same position she took the night before, curled up at the other edge of the bed, giving him all the space in the world and it looks like she doesn't move an inch while she sleeps. He wonders if she learned that sleeping in the limited room of her van or if it's a habit from before that. There's another possibility: that she might be too intimidated by him, even though she suggested sharing the bed in the first place. The idea makes his stomach drop, he doesn't like it, but it's better than the alternative.
Bottom line is he shouldn't have overreated about the bed issue.
He finds other ways to make things awkward.
When they asked what she did now Skye had replied she worked from home, because Robert "doesn't want to share me with the rest of the world". Coulson knew it was pretend, part of her character (just like the way her body swayed and pressed against his side was just part of her character, not the real Skye seeking his touch) but it sat ill with him. Listening to Skye say something so uncharacteristic. It made him wonder what it would be like to know the truth, to know what Skye would need from a relationship.
Of course he can't keep his mouth shut and be professional for just this once.
"That's what you want? Someone who doesn't want to share you with the rest of the world?"
He know he shouldn't ask this kind of question, but something about the phrasing bothered him.
Skye snorts, throwing a truly offended glare his way. "Please, Coulson. As if. But these people think that's what all women should want."
"You know that?"
"Follow my lead on this," she says. There is no arrogance in there, just a quiet and profound wisdom he wasn't expecting. He wonders.
"You're the expert on undercover now," he comments, without bite, just curious.
"Well, no, but I'm the expert on suburban life."
He pauses at her tone.
"How old were you?" he asks.
She turns to him, looking kind of surprised at how quickly he understood.
"Thirteen. It's amazing the kind of crap thirteen year olds can pick up around them."
She says nothing more on the subject and he knows better than to press Skye about her past but that night he catches her looking outside the living room window, while the neighbors walk their dog on the too-quiet street, and her expression is one of unusual disdain. He doesn't think he has seen Skye put that face before.
But whatever Skye personally feels about this environment she plays a perfect role in front of the neighbors. The third day Nick and Sylvia (the couple from the end of the street, whom Skye has identified as "the real power" in the community) come over the house for a middle-of-the-morning glass of wine and to see how Skye and Coulson are settling in.
He has never seen Skye work a mark up close, has never been there to witness it as it happens. He doesn't wonder how she survived so long on the streets on her own. She's got this. Even though the smile is fake it is perfect. At some point she curls her hand over his while she smiles at their new acquantainces, over their marble kitchen counter. Even though it's fake it's nice, if only because Coulson has not been in a position to receive casual affectionate physical contact in so long, and because Skye doesn't seem to struggle so much with it as with the smiling and the chit chat. He would like to ask if it's the same for her; it's been more than a year since Miles Lydon and as Skye's ultimate superior he can see that she is lonely in that sense, and that she is beginning to accept the lack of intimacy with another human being as part of the sacrifices she has to make for SHIELD. Coulson doesn't want her to become him, and he doesn't want new SHIELD to be shaped by his own experiences. He knows it's a fiction but there can't be any harm in indulging in such an innocent gesture. He takes Skye's hand and turns it over so that he can lace their fingers together, distractedly, while they talk to the other couple. He feels her relax into it, brush her thumb gently along the heel of his hand.
"Do you know anything about the couple who lived here before? It was so lucky that a free house popped up right when we were looking to buy."
Skye's focus on the mission kind of breaks the spell but Coulson can't help but admire the subtle show of interest. She's already established Laura Holden as chatty, sociable and more than a little nosy, so the question should raise no alarms.
And it doesn't. And Nick and Sylvia are very good, they barely blink at it (but Coulson can tell the difference between barely blinking and not blinking at all).
It's the wife who answers, while Nick smiles at Skye warmly.
"Ah, they didn't quite fit in. The rest of us tried to make them feel at home but... we weren't clicking. You know how it goes. They went back East."
Skye nods.
"I hope the same thing doesn't happen to us," she says, laughing, and Coulson almost chokes at the unexpected grim humor only someone who knows Skye can detect in her voice.
"I'm sure there will be lots of clicking with you two," Nick jokes and throws a knowing glance at Coulson.
He gets what Skye meant; he can't imagine himself ever liking these people.
+
"That went well."
"You sound surprised," she points out.
"No. But this is kind of a delicate assigment. And I've never done anything like this."
"Undercover?"
"Not like this."
It's unusual to hear Coulson speak so freely about his own shortcomings. He's nervous about the mission, Skye could tell from minute one, from minute minus ten; but for him to tell her so... it's a good sign.
"I think they were charmed enough by you," she reassures him. "The psychos."
"They invited me to jog with them in the mornings," Coulson says.
He does fit right in, she thinks, at least superficially. The jogging and the talking about antique furniture and wine. She had to do a lot of research preparing for the mission, but he seems to sink into the scene effortlessly.
There are other things he seems to do effortlessly.
She thinks about the way Coulson held her hand earlier. It surprised her – she had touched him lightly, to put on a show for Nick and Sylvia, to flaunt their status as a excited couple buying their first house together. She hadn't thought Coulson would reciprocate. It's undercover, she gets it, but it had been a bit more playful and a bit more enthusiastic than she had expected. The whole situation is bizarre, she realizes, having to play the lovestruck pair every day, and Coulson is perhaps the unlikeliest person to go on a mission like this. Not that he is repressed normally, but he is so private that it's hard to imagine him prone to intimate gestures in front of strangers. She feels bad about how nice it felt, though, his casual (but totally calculated) touch and wonders if she was holding on to his hand longer than the mission parameters required.
She can't think like that. If she keeps obsession about mission parameters and propriety her character is not going to be convincing. She will hold hands with her boss and she will not worry about how much she likes it.
+
The first few days he spends pretending to go to work in the mornings, only to start tailing every person in the community, follow them to their jobs, to make sure that is indeed where they were going. He starts with Nick Clarke, driving behind him to his law firm two towns away.
A couple of times he feels he himself is being followed, so he changes the strategy.
Once they have a good idea of where everybody goes normally, what is the pattern with these people, it'll be easier to spot the anomaly. Once he finishes figuring everybody out he will pass on the data to the team so they can keep an eye on all of them. There's only so much he and Skye can do behind the gates.
He spends the all morning and all afternoon driving and he comes home (home? that sounds innacurate) to Skye still working at her computer, just as he left her after breakfast. But she hasn't spent all morning like that, she's informs him right after dinner.
"Guess what? You're not the only one who charmed the neighbors. Nick and Sylvia have invited us for a wine glass at their house tomorrow. What is it with these people and wine? Is there something I don't know?"
He tries not to smile at that, he wouldn't want Skye to think he's being patronizing – but he's pretty sure she couldn't tell between red and white wine if it weren't for the different color.
"Nick commented he has a wine cellar in the basement." He notices Skye's face doing something. "What? What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that if I were to try and smuggle wanted terrorists to another country I would probably hide them in a cellar."
These people look benign enough, he thinks, but they have already killed two people to protect their secret; Coulson doesn't want to rush things, do something that could put him and Skye in danger. There is no way of knowing how mild Nick and Sylvia would react if they knew who their new neighbors really are.
"Sounds like something out of a movie," he says.
"Yes, it does."
"I doubt they'd invite us over if they had a HYDRA agent squatting in the basement."
She rolls her eyes at his lack of faith. "I know that. But it could be a good chance to do some reconnaissance, see if we can plant a couple of bugs."
"Yes, it could."
He admires how proactive Skye has become of late. She's never been shy about expressing her own opinions on missions, but ever since they moved to the Playground (even since he became director) she's been set on enforcing her own ideas. That's good, he thinks, that means she feels comfortable that they won't be shot down. He had asked her to help him build the new SHIELD and she had taken that promise to heart.
He watches her work at her computer, perched over a kitchen stool and not minding the hour.
"Are you coming up?" he asks, feeling weird about inquiring if his subordinate is going to come to bed with him.
"I still have a couple of things to touch up down here," she replies. He wonders if she is doing it on purpose. "Good night, Robert."
Coulson snorts. "Yes, you're right. Good night, Laura."
He feels her climb into bed later, when he is already half-asleep, the mattress raises and here he is, sleeping with someone after so much time, even in a roundabout way, even if it's fake; once more Skye settles under the sheets without a sound and slides her body (Coulson cannot help but notice how warm the night soon becomes) to the edge of the bed, as if trying not to bother him.
+
"These clothes are the worst. Well, they are nice. But they are totally not me. Not my style."
"No, you don't look like yourself," Coulson agrees.
There's something off in his voice. Skye doesn't think too hard about it, because that's the quickest way of turning this whole undercover thing into something that it's not, and she has more sense and more self-preservation instinct than that. Still, there's something in Coulson's voice and in his expression, like he misses the way she normally dresses, like he is a bit pissed off at this not-really-Skye, this simulacrum.
She doesn't look like herself in the mirror, that's true, which shouldn't bother her as much as it does, and she is wearing far too much make-up for what she likes, but she needs to look like she belongs. She's good at that, though. And if she could do it for herself for so long she definitely can do it for the mission.
"You, on the other hand," she comments, almost grimacing at his attire, "look like you fit right in."
It's kind of funny because she has read his file and this couldn't be further from the kind of environment where Coulson grew up and yet – yeah, he looks like he belongs, the polo and the khakis and the boring smile he gives the neighbors when they open the door.
When they sit in the living room – the super expensive super maudlin wallpaper, Skye could barf – Coulson puts his arm around her shoulder casually. She tries not to fidget. The curiosity comes back to her. Is this how Coulson normally is, when he is in a relationship, or is it for the benefit of their hosts? This mission will raise this kind of questions for her, in a way it can't be helped. She can only hope it won't interfere too much. She can't imagine Coulson being this into PDA, to be fair, though she finds the touch warm in its fakeness. But maybe she's just starved, it's been a pretty long time. There's a woman in Portland who knows the answers to these questions, someone Coulson actually loves, even though he has been ambiguous about his plans on that respect – he hinted he had no hopes of continuing the relationship but she doubts that's the end of it.
"Welcome to Arcadia, officially," Nick Clarke tells them and something about his smile makes Skye uncomfortable. Something other than the possibility he might be collaborating with Nazis.
+
Living with Skye in close quarters is... surprisingly easy in some aspects.
It's quite different than living with her and the team in the Playground, in the Bus. He had feared they'd be in each other's way.
He had worried she'd be messy (he has seen her van) but she's not messy at all. She's clean and she travels surprisingly light – no, actually, not surprisingly. Some times he forgets Skye doesn't do things in a normal way, because she can't. She doesn't hog the bathroom in the mornings – actually, Coulson is pretty sure he takes longer – and her things never get in the way. He wouldn't have expected a Rising Tide hacker to be this disciplined but he should have known better.
She sets shop in the spacious kitchen, behind the tv and the couch. It takes her a couple of nights to crack the neighbors' security systems – nighttime is somehow less complicated because Coulson is normally already asleep by the time she goes to bed. It's a bit unnerving waking up next to another person and that makes him realize, again, how long it's been since he's done so. He's just really lonely, that's why he finds all this unnerving but nice. He likes the sound of Skye pacing in the kitchen while she checks everybody's emails in search of a clue. He likes sharing a conspiratory glance with her when the neighbors aren't looking. He actually likes having someone to talk to during meals – for some reason he tends to eat in his office alone whenever they go back to the base.
He's beginning to like this arrangement a little too much. He's beginning to get used to it in a way he knows he's going to miss all this when the mission is over and he doesn't have to share everything with Skye. So he does what he usually does. He goes too far the other way.
"Is there something wrong?" Skye asks him.
He watches her bite at her lower lip, trying to stop her natural instinct, which is to ask Did I do something wrong? even though she knows she hasn't.
"No," he replies, but he realizes that's no real answer to why he has been distant and cold all day. "I'm just... frustrated. I'm not used to missions progressing so slowly. It has hit me that we might be here for the long run."
"I'm sorry," she says, honestly, like she feels she should be doing more somehow.
He shakes his head. "It's okay. Those people risked everything to warn us of the situation here. The least I can do is make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain."
Skye drops her gaze.
"I don't get it. I mean, I know the dark heart at the center of places like this but... they are basically helping Nazis. Don't they have any trouble with that?"
Uncomfortable silence falls after her words. What can he tell her? She's not naive. She knows the world – probably better than he does.
He wonders if she is thinking about Ward.
He wants to keep her mind away from disturbing thoughts.
"I'll make dinner tonight," he tells her.
He knows he'll get a reaction from that. He does.
"Oh. Really?"
They've been ordering food so far, or eating out while surveilling their targets in town, using the excuse that they are not already settled in, accepting neighbor's welcome dishes.
"Yes."
"Sorry, we haven't set up the division of labor. This is not like a usual mission," she says. "I could cook today if you want. Set up a schedule..."
"No offense, Skye, but I saw you had a camping stove in your van. I'm not sure I'm that brave." She pouts. "And I don't mind. It'll be nice to get a break from the Playground's diet."
By the wistful look on her face he can see Skye agrees on that point.
"I could make soup," she argues, a little hurt in her pride.
He's skeptical, if a bit curious. He's going all the way to the other side now, enjoying the banter more than the mission requires.
"Soup?"
"Yes, even I can manage that. You just boil water and throw a lot of stuff in."
"... throw a lot of stuff in?" He watches her blush, which is kind of a novelty in itself. "No, no, I'm sorry, now I'm definitely excited about the idea of you making soup."
He watches as she mutters some muted comeback and says she'll go set the table.
He makes two generous bowls of salad for him and Skye. He has bought quite a lot of stuff, and upscale, too – he has to play the rich guy to the last details, and he has already established the image of the connoisseur, at least among these people. It's not that much of a stretch. He hasn't had the opportunity to cook regularly in years, but he still likes it. He enjoys the idea of making something Skye might like. He remembers the last time he did this – she was trying to impress a woman, he was with Audrey, still trying to impress her six months into the relationship. He doesn't have to impress Skye, it's not like that with her. But he still gets a little thrill of offering the simple but classy dish of rocket, cherry tomatoes and smoked ham with a hint of tarragon and orange to her and watch her eat it with delight. In a way it's good that it's not like that with Skye, that he doesn't have to impress her. He feels freer like this.
Afterwards he carries the empty plates to the sink and Skye protests loudly.
"You've made dinner, I should wash the dishes."
"It's okay," he says.
But Skye doesn't let it go. "No, move over."
She pushes her hip against him, trying to get him out of the way, but he stands his ground so they end up trying to wash the dishes both at the same time, a mess of hands under the water.
They elbow each other gently in the ribs as soon as they see an opening.
"Great," Coulson says when Skye splashes water over his shirt.
She laughs, swaying her body happily against his, her hair falling on his shoulder.
Coulson worries he is beginning to really not hate this mission.