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“You don’t like me very much, do you?” Rosalind asked, crossing one leg over the other in what was clearly a choreographed move.
Yes we get it, Daisy thought. You’re very elegant and evil. Slouching in her chair, Daisy spread her own knees in an immensely unladylike show of defiance.
“I have no clue where you got that idea.”
The smile she received was icy, but then Price looked down at her tablet. “You know Daisy--”
“Agent Johnson,” Daisy corrected.
“Agent Johnson,” Rosalind just barely bristled. “I think we’d be a good team.” Now Daisy frowned. “Really, in the long run, we want the same thing.”
“No, we really don’t,” Daisy said flatly, looking to the door. She clenched her fists. “You want to lock us up, disappear us from society into your creepy people-tanks and let the public think we don’t exist. Without wondering how you erased the problem.”
“I want to protect the world from those who would destroy it,” Rosalind said, leaning forward. Daisy scoffed.
“You don’t need powers to cause destruction,” she said, despite wanting to cause some destruction herself in that moment. Price just shrugged her shoulders elegantly, swiped something on her screen. “But they help, don’t they?”
Now she had her attention.
“Pardon me?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Daisy said, sitting up in her chair. She could see Price’s eyes dart to the door, just for a second. She’s afraid. Good. That meant a possibility of getting out was there. Or they just don’t know what I’m capable of. Her heart had begun to beat faster, but she willed herself to calm down. She needed to relax.
Then: she could feel it. An exploit. A weakness.
A crack.
She flexed her fingers.
“You want to turn us into weapons,” Daisy continued. “The government is terrified, working everyone up into a panic, but only because they don’t want someone else to utilize us first.” She shook her head. “You’re not saving Inhumans, you’re stockpiling them.”
“I’ll admit it, utility is an important factor,” Price said. “But what do you expect? Your kind are an untapped resource. You know how this world works; I listened to your podcasts,” she said, in that faux friendly tone. Daisy would rather she’d just slap her. “You were never exactly a fan of the government to begin with, were you? Or SHIELD, for that matter.”
Daisy looked at the other woman, stony faced. In her lap, she twisted her fingers together. A bead of sweat ran down her temple.
“What changed your mind?”
“They had dental,” Daisy said, smiling. Rosalind hummed, trying to sound more amused than she was.
“I think it was something else,” she said, showing Daisy the screen of her tablet. “Or someone, really.” Looking down at the image there, she shrugged. “Well, maybe something. We’re not exactly sure what he is.”
Daisy grit her teeth. “What are you looking to accomplish here?” She asked, looking deliberately at Price and not the image in front of her. She didn’t need to give any more of a reaction than she could help. She was already breathing heavier than normal, no matter how she tried to regulate it. It was only a matter of time…
“I told you--”
“That’s not what I meant,” Daisy said sharply and leaned close, rejoicing as Rosalind recoiled. The woman took just a second to regain her composure, but there was no hiding it.
“You seem like you’re getting upset,” she said with a faltering smile. Her eyes were drawn briefly to Daisy’s arms, as if she needed to reassure herself, before they moved back to her face.
“You haven’t seen me upset,” Daisy hissed. You want me to be a monster? I saved you once.
Daisy wondered if Price thought about that. In that moment when Daisy was saving her life, holding her aloft on just pure instinct, was Price thinking about how puny she really was? After, while she was in the Playground, sleeping in their home base. Was she wondering what else could Daisy do to her?
Daisy could feel the heat creeping up her neck, her hands becoming sweaty and shaky. “You made a mistake,” she said quietly, looking at Rosalind’s screen.
“Taking you in?” Price asked, noticing her gaze.
Daisy shook her head. “Thinking you could keep me.” Standing up before Price could react, Daisy shot her right hand out in front of her. It hurt, burned like she could have never imagined, but the gradually weakening metal encasing her arm finally gave, shattering into a hundred pieces. Price was calling for backup, but Daisy’s own yells drowned her out as the second modified gauntlet broke.
Ignoring the pain in her arms, shutting that part of her brain off, Daisy stepped closer to Rosalind, who had fallen backward onto the floor. It was satisfying, her fear. More so than the look of astonishment and reluctant gratitude she gave her the first time around.
“Where is he?”
***
Hearing the handle begin to turn, Phil looked quickly over his shoulder at the door. His hand, which had been working to dislodge itself from the needlessly elaborate cuffs for just one whole hand, paused. He’d been alone for what felt like at least 30 minutes, maybe 45.
“Oh good, I was hoping for some company,” he said, dry. Behind him the door creaked open.
“Were you.”
Skye.
“Daisy?” Coulson asked, straining to turn his head again.
“Not the company you were expecting?” She asked, and he winced.
“I’m so--”
“Save it,” she said quietly as he felt her move in close. He sighed. Everything had gone so wrong. He had been stupid, or at least careless.
“Give me a second,” Daisy said, hushed, and for some reason Phil held his breath.
Feeling the cuffs shake briefly before falling apart, Phil groaned as his cramped arms finally regained their freedom.
“Are they coming?” He asked, rolling his shoulders, trying to get rid of the numbness that had overtaken them.
“Ah, no,” Daisy said, looking toward the door. She looked down at the place where his prosthetic typically was, now bare. “Did they--”
“It’s fine, they just detached it.” He shrugged, trying to sound more okay than he felt. “Probably not worth the risk getting back at this point.”
Daisy nodded, but he could see the small knit in her brow. Was she worried or angry? Suddenly he felt pathetic. Maybe it’s pity.
“Okay, well, if you change your mind we’re clear. Very clear. For now.”
Although he very much would have liked to ask a few questions about that, the important thing was that they get out of there. Daisy had the same idea, heading toward the door.
But all that reasonable thinking seemed to fade away in that moment. He'd planned to save it for later, for a better time, but seeing her back turn to him, Phil couldn’t help it.
“Daisy, hold on a second--” he began, reaching out to grab her gently. As soon as his hand landed on her forearm, she recoiled, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth. “What--?”
“Not now, Coulson,” she said, and he pursed his lips but didn’t protest.
What did they do? He thought, dread beginning to pool in his gut. She was hurt. Not the time, he reminded himself. Making it an issue now would not endear him to her.
Following her out the door, Phil saw a few of Price’s downed agents sprinkled through the halls. “They’re--”
“Unconscious,” Daisy said quickly, and he nodded, not liking the feeling of her needing to defend herself to him.
“I was going to say ‘a lot more pleasant like this,’” he joked, and was sure he somehow heard her eyes roll. Switching between watching the knocked out agents they passed and watching Daisy’s back, he looked at her jacket. His eyes narrowed.
“Did you borrow that?” He asked, staring at the expensive-looking black blazer. Definitely a far cry from her usual attire of leather jackets, olive drab, the always-appreciated tactical suit. And you’ve seen it before, he thought with a grimace. He could picture it, hanging over the back of the office chair in his quarters. Pathetic, the little voice whispered again.
“'Borrow' implies an intent to return," Daisy explained. She snorted. "Although she probably would come looking for it, wouldn't she?" She peered down the two ends of the hall they had reached. She took the one on the left, stepping over another ATCU agent.
“How many of them did you take down?” Phil asked, wondering how long it took her to make it to him.
“However many were stupid enough to confront me,” she answered simply, and Phil felt that familiar ache in his chest.
Affection mixed with melancholy, mixed with guilt, with more than a dash of...Not the time.
Daisy seemed to pick up speed, seeing a door in their path. It must have been the way out. Phil wasn’t sure where they had come in; he had been a little busy taking an impromptu nap as the dendrotoxin wore off.
They even took our toys, he thought, sulking. That’s what he got for ‘cooperating,’ wasn’t it? More betrayals, more shoddy deals, same old same old.
Daisy seemed to take a breath, bracing herself as they reached the door, and Phil began to grow more concerned. Was that from fatigue, or from pain? At the prospect of an escape, everything from the past few hours began to catch up with him.
The shocking, annoyingly predictable turn the relationship took, after becoming the third outing in a row that had left Price (and her boss) unsatisfied. Too many weak or harmless powers, too many with no control that would take ages to utilize. Apparently they didn’t have as much time as they thought.
Phil’s head shot up as he heard a chirping ring. Daisy reached into the pocket of Rosalind’s jacket, pulling out a cellphone.
It was not a SHIELD phone.
Eyeing the number on the screen, Daisy answered.
“Hey.” He thought he saw her lips curve up into the hint of a smirk before she was all business again, giving a curt “okay” and “see you in a second.”
Ending the call the she dropped the phone on the floor, crushing it beneath her boot. Catching his gaze, Daisy nodded her head to the exit. “Come on,” she said. “I don’t think she’s going to be too concerned about the jacket or the phone when she finds out how we’re getting out of here.” She opened the door.
Phil blamed his brief moment of fear at seeing Rosalind’s convertible waiting for them on fatigue, but allowed himself an audible sigh of relief when his eyes were met with a very stern looking Agent Mackenzie leaning against the driver’s side door.
“Enjoy your date, Sir?” Mack asked, and Coulson cringed. He deserved that.
“It wasn’t-- no, clearly,” he said, and his clear shame seemed enough for Mack for now. The taller man shrugged, opening the driver’s side door and climbing in.
“Let’s go, before she orders dessert,” Mack said, and Phil groaned.
“Mack,” Daisy sighed, and her partner gave her a concerned look before nodding and closing his door.
There was a pause then, when the three of them looked at the seats. Namely the fact that there were two of them, and Mack was currently sitting in one. Putting on his sunglasses, Mack shrugged.
“My options were practical or satisfying,” he explained, looking up at Daisy. “Figured you both could use a laugh.”
He was met with two strained smiles.
***
Did Daisy enjoy sticking it to Rosalind once more? Sure. Was it easy to enjoy sticking it to Rosalind when she was miserable and in pain and sitting across Phil’s lap? Phil, who was also currently miserable and in (she assumed) some pain? Not particularly.
She appreciated Mack’s gesture, of course. And hoped he was finally enjoying himself after the stress she and Phil had put him through with their disappearance. It was a good look on him, she thought as he drove the admittedly nice car.
But it’s no Lola.
She wondered if she should talk to him, tell him to go easy on Coulson. But she couldn’t exactly do that from her position now. She sighed.
They weren’t fighting. She wasn’t petty, though she did allow herself a couple snippy remarks when she found him. She wasn’t mad, obviously, how could she be? But things were too intense, there was still too much going through her head. She wasn’t ready to be this close to him again, smelling his cologne, and sweat, and that basement, and (unless she was imagining it?) the last vestiges of Price’s perfume. Then again, maybe that was Daisy herself, or the jacket. Either way the smell, or simply the idea of it, was nauseating.
She wasn’t mad at Phil. She was sad for him, and yes, a little disappointed that she was who he chose to loosen up with. To let down his guard with. Blame it on the throbbing pain in her arms, or the nauseous worry that had been eating her up since they had been separated, but yes, she let herself get in a dig or two after she found him. Her emotions were running too high, too hot.
But the second she saw his arm… She glanced at it again as much as she dared. With his right one resting over the door behind her, she could see his left against his side, almost out of her sight.
They’d removed his hand. Of course they fucking did. What’s another dehumanizing act done to the man? Strategically it made sense for them, considering his previous escape, but to act as if clinically detaching it was any less painful than amputating it was nothing less than monstrous in her opinion.
“Let me see,” Coulson said quietly after they had been on the road a few minutes, and Daisy didn’t dare argue, didn’t look at his face so close to her own. Mack kept his eyes on the road. He had let her stretch out, all things considered, and her feet rested against his thigh, warm and reassuring, over the center console. “Daisy,” Phil said again, and even in the open air of the car she could feel his breath against her face.
She let out a long sigh, leaning forward a bit, straining to remove Price’s jacket from her shoulders. Coulson helped her slip it over her arms before tucking it between her back and the door.
He let out a pained hiss. “Skye,” he murmured, slipping up. She didn’t need to look to see what he was so disturbed by. Her arms were red and raw, with clear, clean lines on the tops of her hands and below her elbows. “What did they--”
“This was me,” she said, closing her eyes. “These restraints they had, they suppressed my powers. Not completely, I was able to--” She held out her arms, grimacing as she finally looked at them. “I could destroy them, but I had to heat them up a bit first.”
She saw his face contort as he stared at her, at what she’d had to do to get them out of there. It was definitely no picnic, the searing pain and possibly imagined sizzle of her own skin. Although, the look of terror on Rosalind’s face had been somewhat worth it.
Sure, she only likes my powers when they’re keeping her from going splat on the floor.
Apparently wanting to take a closer look, Phil wrapped his arm tighter around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him so he could place his hand in the crook of her elbow. His thumb pressed against the soft skin there, lifting her arm just slightly. Whether he noticed it or not she wasn’t sure, but his thumb began to rub small circles there, and she felt goosebumps form all over.
After he was done staring and dwelling, Phil seemed to notice.
“Are you cold?” He asked, pulling the jacket from where he had crumpled it behind her. Daisy took it from his hands and released it over her head, letting the wind take it.
***
“We need to talk,” Daisy said as Phil walked into his office. His eyes widened just a fraction as he registered that she was in fact sitting in his chair, at his desk, but his recovery was impressively quick.
“Of course,” he told her, sitting in the chair across from her like it was the most normal thing in the word. “Simmons cleared you to--”
“You shouldn’t have trusted her,” she said, and Coulson stared at her.
“You’re not wasting any time, are you?”
“I know it was out of your hands working with them in the first place, but you absolutely should have pulled back when Mack and I expressed our concerns.” Frankly, she hadn’t wanted to work with Rosalind from the beginning, though she knew it was done to protect her. But as each ‘extraction’ occurred, Daisy felt less and less at ease. Price, she wasn’t reacting correctly. She should have been relieved that the Inhumans they were finding were relatively harmless, if sometimes a little odd looking.
He hung his head, but she could see his eyes scanning over her arms, landing on the line of bandages peeking out from under her sleeves.
“But you need to stop,” she told him, pulling the cuffs of her sweater over her hands.
He looked up, confused. “Stop what?”
“Stop acting like you walked into her bedroom, handed her the keys to the Playground and single-handedly--” She winced. Fuck. “Like you somehow compromised all of SHIELD. With your...penis.”
Coulson stared at her, aghast. And still confused, she thought, which made sense. She wasn’t making much sense. “Phil,” she said, trying to start again. “We-- well, some of us, to different extents-- have been there.”
Coulson was already shaking his head. “That’s not the same,” he said seriously, “Ward was out of the blue, I should have known better--”
“But you did, that was the point, right?” She sighed, leaning back. “Your whole thing, it seemed like it would work because you guys were both withholding information, but you both knew it. Which,” she said, tapping her finger on the desk, “is kind of messed up, but who am I to judge?”
“I thought I could trust her,” Coulson told her, with those sad little guilty eyes. She rotated her chair, looking out the window instead. “After the investigation. Or at least--predict her moves, before she made them.”
Daisy couldn’t help it, she snorted. “That’s not trust, Coulson. Trying to look at their cards before they can look at yours.” She should know, she was kind of the Queen of Trust Issues. Risking a look back at him, she was relieved to find him looking even the slightest bit less tortured. He had reined it in, thank god. She couldn’t take much more of sad, guilty Coulson.“Price just had more cards under the table.”
Coulson looked down at the desk, but his mouth quirked up slightly. “I think you’re mixing metaphors.”
“Shut up I’m punishing you,” Daisy said lightly. His head made this curious little tilt, and she couldn’t see his eyes very well but she had a feeling she knew what he was thinking. “I’m not actually punishing you, Phil.” He looked up, and Daisy gave a sad little shrug. “You got played. I’m sorry.”
And she was. Rosalind? Not her first choice for a companion for Coulson, even before she went all diabolical on them. Her last, really. The way the woman always talked down to her, even when she was trying to be ‘nice.’ The horror show of her facility. And she hadn’t seen them interact much, she avoided it, really, but some of the “banter” between her and Phil kind of felt...mean.
But Coulson was a grown up. A very lonely grown up, she had gathered. The small part of her she tried to silence, the petty part, had kept calling out, ‘why not me?’ He was the most important person in her life, why couldn’t she fulfill that role as well?
She knew why, to a degree. And it was selfish of her to be upset when she didn’t do enough before he met someone. That was on her, right? But they just had so much work. And he lost a hand and she lost her parents and suddenly they were losing Inhumans too, it never seemed like the right time.
She thought about Lincoln. Tried not to think about the suspect timing that even he eventually picked up on. After all, Coulson wasn’t the only one who was lonely.
“I did, didn’t I?” He asked, resting his forehead on his palm, leaning forward on the desk. Rubbing a hand over his face, he looked up at her. “I got played.”
Something about his face just looked so sad. Not even the guilt as much anymore, just resigned. Which was terrible because Coulson should never be sad, never feel like he should give up.
Reaching over, Daisy placed a hand on over his as it came to rest on the desk.
“It happens to the best of us,” she said wistfully, and Coulson nodded. “No I mean it, May and I are the best people you have.” Encouraged by the small smile she got, Daisy continued. “And you’re alright, I guess.”
“Yeah?” He asked, looking at her hand over his just a beat long enough to be noticeable before looking back at her.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “But this sucks, really. Because you...you’re great, and you deserve way better than that.” Coulson leaned back, immediately shaking his head at her admittedly mushy sentiment. “I mean it, Phil, you do.”
Coulson sighed, looking out the window. His hand turned over, so Daisy’s palm was now resting on his. She could feel his fingertips fidget around the soft edge of her bandages. “So do you,” he said quietly.
Daisy cringed, as that little part of her began to whisper again. ‘Why not me?'
“Yeah well, I never seem to get the timing right on that,” she said, and she saw Coulson’s brow furrow.
“I thought…”
Daisy tilted her head. You thought…
“You and Lincoln?” He shook his head. “It’s not my business.”
Funny thing to say when you’re holding my hand, but okay.
Well, holding her fingers, actually. His own had curled around hers lightly, but whether he actually noticed it was questionable.
“Yeah, no,” she said, turning to look out the window as well. The sun was beginning to set. “That’s not really happening right now. Anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Phil said, and she actually believed it. Not that it was a surprise.
“Me too,” she agreed, selfishly not feeling too sorry when she could feel his hand beneath hers, warm and solid and Coulson.
“Does it hurt?” Phil asked after some time, and Daisy frowned.
“A little, I guess? I mean, we were never-- it wasn’t serious or anything. And he’s hated being here since the second we landed so that hasn’t been--” She stopped. He was shaking his head.
“I meant your--” Coulson lifted her hand slightly, gesturing toward her arm. He smiled apologetically.
“Oh,” Daisy said, feeling the heat creep up her face. Unnecessary overshare. “Yeah, actually,” she admitted, and saw Coulson’s face immediately awash with concern. “I just--really didn’t want to be out of it right now,” she said truthfully. Simmons hadn’t been a fan of the idea, but Daisy needed to figure some things out before dosing her way away from it. And frankly, she needed to talk to Coulson about everything ASAP, otherwise she would be blissed out on painkillers while he languished in his office over what had transpired.
“Well, for my peace of mind, do you think you could try now?” He asked politely, and Daisy could see that the idea of her in pain was really bothering him. She tilted her head.
“If you promise not to bolt, or spend the next day alone in here punishing yourself, I’ll see what I can do,” she offered, watching him concede her point with a nod.
“Does punishing myself include watching old movies and listening to my most depressing records?”
Daisy considered his question. Looking over his darkening office, she felt uneasy. Even if he was joking now, she didn’t trust that the second she left he wouldn’t just fall into a state of guilt and anguish and regret. She’d heard his depressing records, and while they were classics that she herself had listened to on a rainy day or five, they were no joke.
They needed another solution.
“Only if you do it alone.”
***
“Am I going to have a hard time following this?” Daisy asked, scooching up against her headboard. They’d considered doing this in his room for a hot second before he made it clear that would not be anything resembling ‘okay’ just yet, and Daisy immediately understood because of course she did. “Once my arms are better we can redecorate,” she’d offered, “move some furniture around, try out some interior design?”
Get some new bedding, had been the unspoken offer, one that embarrassed him but nonetheless left him appreciative. No, he preferred her space now. It was much smaller than his own, but it was cozy and it smelled like her and made him feel safe and welcome. Putting the DVD in her laptop, Phil adjusted the pillows behind her, made sure she wasn’t leaning her arms too heavily against the wall or himself and sat on top of the covers next to her.
“It’s a comedy, shouldn’t be too hard. Even in your ‘altered state,’” he joked and Daisy sent him a lazy, slightly doped up smile. Simmons wasn’t playing around with the meds. Daisy was conscious, obviously, and fairly aware, but probably more relaxed than he’d seen her since...ever, probably.
A few minutes into the film, Daisy warm against his side, Phil looked over. She was frowning.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, hoping she wasn’t in pain again. Or maybe she just hates the movie.
“Is it the drugs, or do they talk really fast?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. Coulson chuckled, feeling a little guilty. He’d watched the movie so many times it was no problem for him to follow along, but the fast-talkers probably seemed even more so to someone like Daisy who wasn’t familiar.
Taking on a goofy old Hollywood accent, Daisy muttered, “‘I’ll show you, you old so and so, take you down to the cleaners like an old suit,’” she imitated. Phil frowned.
“That’s not even-- no one says that,” he argued, a little offended at her mockery.
“That’s basically what they sound like,” Daisy said, looking up at him, eyebrow raised. “It makes no sense, who can even talk like that?”
“‘I wouldn't cover the burning of Rome for you if they were just lighting it up. If I ever lay my two eyes on you again, I'm gonna walk right up to you and hammer on that monkeyed skull of yours 'til it rings like a Chinese gong!’” Phil quoted, in a --if he could say so himself-- much more accurate interpretation of the dialogue.
Daisy stared at him, mouth agape.
“That sounds racist,” she murmured, and Phil’s eyebrows shot up.
“Wha-- it’s not--”
“Sssshhhh, I must have missed like, ten scenes by this point,” she said, leaning on him until her head rested under his chin.
“Yeah okay,” Phil said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Then stop making fun of the things I like,” he teased.
“Shhhhhhh…”
Chuckling, Phil looked down at her, and could see her eyes beginning to droop closed. “You’re going to miss it,” he whispered, but just got some quiet muttering in return.
It was okay if she didn’t like his favorite movies, he thought. That her clothes were never tailored or sometimes she wouldn’t have the patience to banter because she was too anxious to help people than spend time making sarcastic retorts.
He wasn’t trying to compare her to anyone else, but that’s because there truly was no comparison. Turning the volume down he turned on the caption, letting Daisy get some much needed rest, hopefully with the knowledge that he was obeying her orders. There would be no moping that night.
***
Phil was in his room late the next morning, when Daisy found him. He had been spreading his new sheets over the bed when she appeared at the door, all dressed for the day. She wore a soft sweater and her eyes were alert.
“Redecorating?” She asked, carefully. Phil smiled as he tucked in the corners and reached for his new comforter. It was all stuff they had for spare rooms on the base, but he’d go shopping soon enough.
“Just a bit,” he replied, tossing the newly-cased pillows at the head of the bed. “Did you see Simmons this morning?”
Daisy lifted her arm, pulling her sleeve back to reveal fresh bandages. He nodded approvingly and straightened out one of the pillows. From the other side of the bed, she straightened the other one. It was a little crooked, but he preferred to just leave it.
“How’s the--” She gestured to his arm, fitted with yet another prosthetic. Fitz had been working through the night to finish the latest model, his deadline moved up since the unexpected removal of the last one.
“Good,” he said, flexing out the fingers. “Better, a bit. Some more mobility than the last.” Not the same, he admitted to himself. Never the same.
But things rarely ever stayed the same.
“I’m glad,” Daisy told him, and he smiled at her. “Heard you sent May and Bobbi after the ATCU,” she said, and Phil nodded.
“I had them out looking when we got back, but I’m afraid they were able to clear out pretty quickly.” Of course they were. It wasn’t as if they would be able to betray them again, but knowing they were still out there, still looking for Inhumans...it was a sobering thought.
“We’ll get them,” Daisy told him, and he believed her. “Did you finish the movie?”
Phil gave her a funny look. “You’re asking a lot of questions today,” he observed, folding up his old sheets. Kind of a pointless exercise, considering they were either going to the laundry room or the trash, but it was a slow, menial task he could focus on, work on using the new hand. Not pick up on Daisy’s growing, contagious, nervous energy. Too late.
She seemed to be bouncing on her heels, fidgety. Not ready to interpret what that meant, he decided to give her a break.
“I did, I’m sorry it wasn’t up your alley,” he said, shrugging. “I know not everyone likes them, you’re not the first person to fall asleep during one of my movies,” Phil joked, and Daisy nodded.
“Yeah, sorry. It wasn’t bad, just-- I was on a lot of meds.” She looked at him apologetically, and Phil decided he never wanted Daisy to apologize to him again.
“I’m glad you got some sleep, you deserve it,” he said sincerely, and Daisy bit her lip. “What’s wrong?” Phil could feel the air in the room change, and he place the pillowcase he had been folding down on the bed, letting it fall into a small, crumpled heap.
“I just--” Daisy said, twisting her fingers. “I woke up, and forgot you weren’t still there for a second,” she explained, shutting her eyes tightly for a moment as if trying to block out their experience over the last couple days. “And I just really wished you were there. Here, with me when I woke up. And look, I know my timing is terrible--”
Phil barely let her finish, stepping onto the bed and taking two large strides across it before kneeling on the mattress in front of her, because walking all the way around it would just take too damn long. Grabbing her face with his hands he kissed her deeply, throwing every apology and regret and plea for forgiveness he had into it. But it was also so much more than that, he knew, as he felt her own fingers land delicately on his chest, curling into his shirt. She didn’t want any more apologies either, she’d said as much the night before in his office.
“I love you,” he said quickly, pulling away to look her in the eyes. Daisy nodded and he kissed her again, robotic and human hands wrapping around her waist. He pulled back again. “I shouldn’t have pushed it away,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “I should have said something sooner.”
Daisy kissed him this time, one of her hands moving up to cup his chin. He could feel the warm skin of her fingers and the soft gauze catching on the 5 o’clock shadow he had yet to address. She backed off for a second. “‘Well you practically did,’” she said, in an affected voice that made his eyes widen. ‘“Making goo-goo eyes at me for two years until I broke down.’’”
“You did watch it,” he said, mystified as she pushed him back until he was on his ass. Scooting back so she could climb up and kneel between his legs, Phil smiled widely.
“You took your copy with you but it’s on Netflix,” she explained, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. “I caught up.” Coulson ran his hands up and down her back, leaning backward until he was flat against the bed. Daisy made a noise of approval as she straddled his hips, and when she slipped her tongue in his mouth he wondered if he didn’t actually die back there. Again.
Sitting back, Daisy looked around his room. She gave him a cheeky look, and Phil surged up to kiss her again. She placed a finger over his lips. “‘Oh and I see you’ve got your rubbers too,’” she said, laughing at herself. “‘Always good to be prepared for anything.’”
Phil rolled his eyes. “That’s not. What that line. 'S about,” he said between kisses, pausing to hold her chin between two fingers so he could look her dead in the eye. “But that can be arranged.”