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Coulson had called a team meeting to address that Skye would be leaving soon and that he would be going with her. It had gone well with few questions. That May disagreed with Coulson's decision wasn't obvious to anyone who wasn't really good at reading her, and, while the others seemed surprised, no one seemed totally astounded.
They haven't made an announcement about the adjustment in their personal relationship (that would have been beyond weird). And they aren't a couple of randy teenagers; it's not like the two of them have been making out all of over the base (His office, now, that was a different story. She thinks they've probably christened every surface in there one way or another.). But they haven't done anything to hide it either. Coulson spends his nights with her, and she spends her days working alongside him.
Maybe it shouldn't have surprised her like it had but Coulson is a small touches kind of guy: a light hand to the small of her back as she goes through a doorway, a quick squeeze of her hand before getting up from the couch, a finger tucking the hair behind her ear when it falls across her face. It's nice; it's really, really nice. Because it feels normal, and it's been a long time since there was anything even approaching normal in her life.
So word had gotten out about them, as well.
* * *
She and Coulson haven't made an announcement, but she had made an exception with Jemma Simmons. It hadn't seemed right that Simmons might find out through the grapevine about her and Coulson. And truth be told, she's missed having Simmons to talk to, to share innocuous gossip with. She'd never really had girlfriends before; she was too weird and her life was too strange and disjointed for that. So her friendship with Simmons had taken her a little bit by surprise.
But the fact was since San Juan she pulled away from, well, everybody, but Simmons especially. She had avoided the scientist, telling herself she couldn't handle Simmons' grief on top of her own. Something had been growing between Simmons and Tripp, and every time she saw Simmons she was reminded of Tripp's face crumbling to dust and that he wouldn't have even been there but for her. So anytime the woman sought her out, she'd remembered a meeting with May or Coulson or some other important task that required her attention right that moment.
She finds Simmons in her quarters, having a cup of tea and thumbing through a scientific journal. She looks up and gives Skye a quick smile when she knocks and enters. Good sign. Skye's a little anxious about this conversation, concerned that Simmons might be angry with her; Skye wouldn't blame her if she were. And she's not stupid; she knows this thing with Coulson isn't typical: because of the gap in their ages, because of his position, because of what she is now.
Skye runs through her prepared spiel, which she might have rehearsed a few times in front of the mirror in her room this morning (nerves, damnit, nerves) and waits for Simmons to respond.
Simmons speaks hesitantly, like she's choosing her words carefully, "Skye, it's hardly surprising. It's been clear that you and he care deeply for each other. That your relationship might evolve into one of a romantic nature isn't unnatural."
She pats the bed next to her, indicating that Skye sit down, and continues.
"It's rather idiotic for persons to ignore an attraction because they're afraid of how others might feel about it. I think it's good that you and Director Coulson aren't so cowardly."
Skye feels tears prick her eyes and moves to wrap her arms around the other woman. "Simmons, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry about Tripp, and I'm so sorry that I've been so wrapped up in my own crap that I haven't been much of a friend."
Simmons returns her hug, rubbing her back, saying, "Don't be ridiculous. It's no small thing what you've been dealing with. If you needed some time to process it, that's understandable. I'm glad you're here now."
They stay like this for awhile before pulling away, both of them wiping at their eyes. Simmons smiles brightly.
"Now, enough sniffling." Simmons leans over and asks in a conspiratorial voice, "So, tell me, how did it happen? And what's he like? In bed, I mean? You have had sex, haven't you?"
Skye grins and blushes. Yeah, she's definitely missed gossiping with Simmons.
* * *
Coulson talks to May. She's the other exception who deserved more than discovering by the equivalent of a change of relationship status on Facebook.
He hasn't said much about how that discussion went except to say that it had happened. Skye can guess that he's not satisfied with how things were left from his long silences tonight broken only by sounds of frustration wit the reports he's working his way through and the tense line of his shoulders and neck which he keeps trying to work out with frequent movements.
"You okay?" she asks as she walks over to lean against his desk next to where he's sitting.
He leans back in his chair, tossing his pen onto his desk.
"Yeah, long day." He sticks his tongue out in a very un-Coulsonlike gesture.
She nods. "That's the only kind we get these days." She runs her finger along the edge of his desk, before pushing off to move behind him and rest her hands on his shoulders.
"What did May say that's gotten you so tied up in knots?"
He tilts his head back to look at her and grimaces as she runs her hands down his upper arms and back up to his shoulders.
"Oh, there was a lot of discussion about my duties as Director. How I'm not acting responsibly with respect to SHIELD or to you."
He sighs and covers his eyes with his hand, pressing his fingers into both temples before running his hand down his face and letting out a sigh. She rubs his shoulders, feeling the tension stored in the muscle there.
"I tried to explain but I can't make her understand. I even quoted the Bible to her," he says ruefully.
"The Bible, very persuasive." She moves her fingers up to his neck and he rolls his head forward.
"So I thought. 'What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole word, and lose his own soul?'" He leans his head further forward until his chin is almost touching his chest, exposing his neck further to her.
"Very deep. Very, very deep." She runs her fingers through his hair, moving her thumbs in concentrated circles at the base of his skull, pressing firmly and thinking how vulnerable the nape of his neck seems.
She's silent for a moment, considering. "This is that important to you? Your soul is hanging in the balance?" Not so long ago Skye wouldn't have been able to fathom her being that important to anyone, except now he is to her so why couldn't she be to him. She feels a vague sense of gratitude to be given that kind of responsibility for him.
He reaches to take her hands in his and pulls her around in front of him. Still holding her hands, he tugs her into his lap.
"You are. And if I were to pretend that you weren't, that would be a betrayal of sorts." He takes his time before speaking again, looking at her and rubbing his thumb on her knee. "You didn't know me before. I thought of myself as a good man; I tried to do good things. What SHIELD said was right and good, that was the definition I adopted, who I was. And that was how I found myself collaborating on questionable projects like TAHITI."
"I can't do that anymore. Director or not, SHIELD isn't the center of my universe. It's important, our work is very important. But it's not who I am anymore. Maybe it's because of where I was before they brought me back, or something they did to me during that process. But I think it's you," he says softly, bringing his hand up to her face, lightly touching her nose, her cheek, her mouth. "Having you to challenge me, to learn from, to care for, maybe it's as simple as that. Maybe it's you that changed me."
He pulls her in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss before looking into her eyes.
"I know this is not some passing infatuation. And I'm not just some foolish old man chasing after a dream in the shape of a beautiful, young girl or dealing with an existential crisis by getting into an inappropriate relationship with a subordinate. If that's how others see me, see us, so what. I know different." He holds her tightly to him, and she rests her head where his neck meets his shoulder.
No wonder he's been so wound up if this is what's been going on in his head since his conversation with May. She wishes she could wrap her entire self around him, to shield him from disappointment and hurt because, he may not see it, but this Coulson is so vulnerable. But, she thinks, his vulnerabilities aren't the same as weaknesses; his vulnerabilities and strengths are intertwined, symbiotic. That this man could have lived the life he has and still possess such sincerity and clarity of purpose, he amazes her.
She moves to press her lips against his, running her thumb over his lower lip. "I love you, too."
Returning her head to its position on his shoulder, she says, "It sounds like my conversation with Simmons went much better. She's happy for us." She fiddles with his tie as she continues. "She did want to know what you were like in the sack. I told her you were an absolute maniac, of course."
He stiffens beneath her, pulling back to look at her. "You did what?"
"Yeah, I also told her you have a giant penis," she says, pressing her hand to the area in question.
"No, you did not." He stares at her like she has lost her mind.
She leans in and whispers in his ear, "And that you are like the King of Oral Sex, with that tongue and mouth of yours." As he continues sputtering protests, she can't keep it up any longer and starts laughing.
She rolls her eyes and presses her forehead to his. "Of course, I didn't. I told her a lady doesn't kiss and tell, but that I had no complaints in that department."
He relaxes beneath her, shaking his head in mock anger, before growling and moving to bite her neck playfully. She tilts her head to the side to give him better access.
"But I got you. I got you good. You should have seen the look on your face."
"Very funny. Very, very funny." She feels him smirk against her neck and then that smirk turn into a smile, and she smiles, too.
She turns to press a quick kiss to his mouth. "Come on, O Director of My Heart, let's call it a night."
"Your place again?"
"I thought maybe we might try the Director's quarters. I've heard he has a really comfortable bed. I'm wearing my heartrate thingie, and you'll be there." She shrugs. "My neck and back are screaming for a mattress. I'm sure yours are, too, old man."
She climbs out of his lap and rises. He stands, as well, and, in a quick movement, picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, taking her by surprise and she laughs.
"Okay, Coulson the Barbarian."
A strip of skin along her hip has been exposed, and he drags the flat of his tongue along that line, raising chill bumps on her skin. "I'll show you the King of Cunnilingus."
Her laughter gets huskier and she says, "Is that a promise or a threat?"
"Both. Now away to the bedroom with you, you wench."
He keeps her in this ridiculous position as they leave his office, making their way down the hall.
* * *
The next day Skye goes down to the garage to check on Lola's progress. Mack's legs and feet stick out from under the car.
"So, how's it going?" She walks around Lola. The bodywork's finished, and Lola's looking like her old self.
Mack slides out from under Lola and stands up, wiping his hand on a cloth.
"We're getting there. Turbo's still got a few kinks to work out with some modifications we made, but then the old girl will be good to go."
"Good, good."
"So, you and Coulson, huh?" He quirks an eyebrow, a half-smile on his face.
"Yep. Me and Coulson."
"Good, good." Mack's smile broadens, now reaching his eyes.
* * *
That evening Skye and Coulson are in her room, sitting on the bed, their heads against the headboard, going over potential routes on her tablet. There's a knock on her door, and the door bursts open before she has a chance to call out an acknowledgement.
Lance Hunter. And he looks pissed.
"I can't believe you two. After all that I've done and all that we've been through, you don't even have the decency to tell me in person. I have to hear about it from Bobbi of all people. It's like you didn't consider my feelings at all."
They turn their heads as one. Hunter's got his arms stretched, imploring.
Skye raises her eyebrows. "Um, that's because we didn't."
"That's hurts. Director, that woman is vicious. Of course, all women are vicious at heart. I hope you're prepared for when she turns on you with that sword of a tongue."
Skye gives him an incredulous look. "I'm curious, is everyone from your home planet as weird as you are?"
Hunter leans against the doorframe, getting comfortable.
"Very funny. Now, don't mind me. You two just get back to what you were doing, snogging, whispering sweet nothings in each others' ears, discussing the optimal way in which to shove a dagger through my still-beating heart as I lie bleeding on the ground."
Hunter ducks to avoid the notebook Skye throws at him. Coulson rises and starts walking towards him, a decidedly exasperated expression on his face. He takes the door in hand, closing it with force, and Hunter has to move quickly to avoid grave injury to his nose.
"Yes, well, next time I won't be so understanding!" he yells at the closed door. Walking away, he mutters, "And she's got another thing coming if she thinks she's ever getting this notebook back. Hmm, exit strategies, interesting."