“Budge.”
The request was firm, and difficult to deny. Even if Ward had wanted to, he wouldn't really have had the choice; not with the way Fitz manhandled his arms out of the way and settled himself squarely in the older man's lap, tablet in hand. “Continue.”
Not that it was rare for Fitz to sort of insert himself into things, but literally climbing into Ward's lap while he was working on a mission report, and then going back to Candy Crush (or whatever it was) like nothing was happening... That was a bit new.
“Can I help you?” Ward asked, voice quiet, tone level, distracted from the tablet in his own hands for a second.
Fitz looked up at him, eyebrows raised in question of his own, like he didn't understand why Ward was asking him anything at all. “I'm fine.”
“Comfy?” Ward followed up. He could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smirk flit across Fitz's face.
“Very, thank you. Don't let me stop you from your...” He gestured vaguely.
“Mission report.” Ward filled in.
“That,” Fitz agreed, lifting his tablet again, and wiggling slightly, getting comfortable. Grant didn't grunt, though he easily could have. Or, pointed out the other's bony ass. That would lead to an argument, though, and it was two in the morning. Better to just get his mission report done with. The faster he did, the more pleased Fitz would be, he suspected. Something made Ward think the other was angling for time together, even if it meant passing out in one of their bunks, side by side.
The hint in his lap was something of a dead giveaway for that.
The mission report was nearly done, anyway. Using Fitz's bent knees as an easel for the tablet, Ward went back to work on it, outlining the assault taken on the enemy's vehicles.
“You're missing a U.”
The interjection was so random and unexpected that, for a second, Ward wondered if Fitz was more tired than he'd seemed. One look up, however, found the other with eyes trained on Ward's tablet instead of his own, and frowning.
“Where?”
“Here.” Fitz tapped the screen, highlighting the word 'armored'. “You're missing a U.”
Glancing from the highlighted word, to Fitz, and back again, Ward shook his head. “There's no U in 'armored'.”
“Uh,” Fitz looked up at him, face a mask of skepticism. “Yes, there is.”
“No, there isn't,” Ward corrected, just as firmly.
“A-r-m-o-u-r-e-d.” Fitz spelled out, slow and deliberate, like Ward might not follow along if he went any quicker.
“Sorry,” Ward said, holding up a hand. “I meant there's no U in American English.”
“American English,” mused Fitz. “Something like... Bastardized ignorance towards the letter U.”
“Fitz,” Ward lifted his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth turning up in the slightest smile. “If I wanted someone to grade my paper, I'd ask May to land the Bus at a public school.”
“Ward,” Fitz mimicked, his smile patient sweetness tinged with snark. “I'm not grading your paper, I'm correcting your English.” He tapped the tablet screen again, drawing attention to the date. “This is also backwards.”
“Don't start.”
This time, when Fitz smiled, it was genuine, full of amusement. And it also made it obvious just how pleased with himself the engineer was. “Day first, then month, then year. In order of how often they change.”
“Now you're just nitpicking.”
Fitz shrugged one shoulder. “You'd be lying if you said you didn't like that about me.”
He had a point. That was the most infuriating part. He had a point, and he knew it. More, he knew that Ward knew he knew it. Just like he probably he just the effect his genuine smile had had on Ward's heart.
Leaning forward, Ward pressed their foreheads together, speaking quiet between them. “The sooner you stop being nitpicky, the sooner I can finish this, and we can go to bed.”
Fitz's smile gentled, and he slid his free hand behind Ward's head, leading him into a quick, light kiss. “All right. I promise, I'm done correcting you.”
“Good. I'm going to finish this now,” Ward pointed to the tablet in this hand. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Fitz agreed, settling back against the arm of the couch again, clearly comfortable in Ward's lap. His attention refocused on his own tablet, the discussion about Ward's English over and done with. Satisfied, Ward went back to his report. It should only take, tops, five more minutes to complete, and then they'd be able to curl up and sleep.
“That Z should be a S.”
Make that ten more minutes.