Turn Back the Clock

She woke up next to him. To the sound and feeling of him shifting. The feel of his weight stirring right next to her. So, so close.

They'd fallen asleep on top of the covers. She'd managed to kick off her shoes and and toss her jacket on the floor. He'd fared about the same.

Sitting up on one elbow, she squinted and looked at the light outside, not sure what time it was. She sighed. This had been so tender, but so frustrating.

He'd wanted to talk about the future. She had said they might not have one once they went after Garrett and Ward. He said he'd rather believe for that future, than letting someone he loved so dearly know just how much he meant that in a cheap motel room. Very Coulson.

That was, of course, after they had kissed wildly on nearly every surface of the room that would support them. (Okay, maybe not *every*, but still.)

She was backtracking it in her mind, enjoying the memory, trying not to laugh a bit at the whole thing.

"You get five minutes," she'd said, and began walking toward him.

He held the door open, closed it behind them.

Crossing over to stand at a distance, she waited for him to say whatever he was going to say. She owed him that much, at least. And she kind of wondered if anyone had heard them arguing out by the pool, and him making declarations. But, no matter.

"When I died and came back," he said, "I felt different. But I also felt in the dark. Everyone was acting strange, handling me with kid gloves, like I might break. I guess that is possible," he said to himself. "But!," he resumed, "But! I thought they were just being sensitive, given the circumstances. Turns out, they were all lying to me."

"Yeah," she responded. A lot had changed. For the both of them. He'd showed her the video May had dug up. She'd be lying if she denied that it had made her feel ill.

He couldn't really read her expression, so, he said, "All of that to say, you walked into my life, the only unknown, and *still* the only unknown," he said, "And I realized for the first time in my life, I really had a second chance," he paused. "This is what freedom feels like." He looked over at her. "And I love you for that," he said, emotion creeping in, "...in so many ways, I can't even..."

Skye didn't have to hear anymore. She plowed right into him with a happy sigh of, "Phil," and kissed him before he could even finish the thought. It was brief, but sweet, full of meaning.

"Do I still need to say stuff? Because, I do have more," he said earnestly, "But, frankly, I'd rather do this," he kissed her back, his hands on either side of her face, then picking her up bodily and pushing her against the wall.

Wow. I mean, she'd thought about him, what it would be like. This? This was better. He trickled kisses down her neck, "We," she started breathlessly, "...have a lot of catching up to do." She pulled his face back towards her, locked eyes with him, deepened the kiss. That got a wonderful sound out of him. A very un-Coulson-like sound, that thrilled her. Followed by him pushing everything in him against her.

"Come here," she said, tearing away from him and grabbing him by the hand, leading him towards the bed.

It was like hearing the sound of brakes grinding to a halt. He let go. He was there. She was here. The pause button had been pushed.

"Skye," he said, his chest rising and falling, hair all over the place. He kind of looked like he had in Lola, after they'd almost fallen to their deaths. She looked at his eyes and at his mouth, like she had then. Was he CRAZY?!

"Yes!" she said, "Yes!"

"No."

Ugh. And so they talked. After she had rolled her eyes, hair all a mess (he thought she looked a lot like that day they'd almost died in Lola), she just let herself fall down on the bed. Arms akimbo, staring at the ceiling.

"When this happens," he said, laying his jacket gently over the nearby chair, "And I really think it should happen," he continued, taking off his tie and laying it atop the jacket, "It's not going to be in a place where I have to fight over the bacon at the free breakfast buffet."

"Better get used to it," she said laconically. "We're homeless."

"Yeah? Let's talk about that for a moment," he said, and flopped down next to her on the bed, making it bounce. He had to catch himself so he didn't fall off. Her eyes said all that needed to be said.

"That's not my long-term plan. What kind of guys are you used to dealing with?" he asked sincerely.

Skye pursed her lips, "I usually just think about how to get through the day."

He turned on his side, touched her cheek lightly, turned her face towards him gently, "The good you want to do," he said, "The good that's inside of you, whatever it takes, I'm going to make sure that 'just getting by' is not an option."

She bit her lip, why did this have to happen now? Why couldn't they just go run off someplace together, to the REAL Tahiti, and all of this SHIELD and HYDRA stuff be damned?

"I've seen what you can do. I've seen who you are. And, us? We're going to change the world."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly.

"What if we die tomorrow, Phil?"

He took a deep breath, pushed a stray hair off her face. "If we die tomorrow, everything, *everything*, in my heart will have wanted nothing but the best for you. And if we live, everything in my heart..."

She kissed him again. He knew what she was saying. He kissed her back.

They'd gone back and forth like that all night. And now, it was daylight.

Skye looked over at him, sleeping. She thought about poking him to see if he was really awake. Instead, she gently ran her hand over his hair, smiling when he stirred a bit, let out a small sigh.

This whole thing was insane. She was in love with a 50 year-old-dude who was her boss, number one, and who probably had a crapload of enemies and his own little laundry list which would take a lifetime to unravel.

Yep, the only cure for this was to go secure his bacon at the buffet.

Rolling off the bed gently, she went for the hotel key and the jacket. Looked back at him.

"Don't," he said, as she started for the door.

Oh, so he was awake.

He sat up on the bed, rubbed a hand across his face. He looked beat, she tried not to laugh a bit. He'd obviously caught her smile.

"What?" he asked.

The sight of him rumpled and looking beat and with that totally adorable smirk he wore whenever they talked one-on-one, oh yes, she recognized that now, was making her want to push him over and start last night again. Two. Point. Oh.

"We're going out for brunch," he said, getting up from the bed. "My treat."

Skye put the hotel key back on the table. Took off her jacket.

"In that case," she grinned, "I"d better freshen up."

***

"Ritz-Carlton Concierge Desk," the man announced with a flourish, "How may I be of service?"

"Yes," said the male voice on the other line. "We are Mr. and Mrs..." There was a pause. Maybe a giggle? He wasn't sure. "Lee," he continued, "Our vehicle was struck by lightning last night, and I'm afraid that we've become...st-t-randed..."

"I'm sorry, sir, are you alright?" asked the concierge. He held the receiver away from his ear when what sounded like laughter and a loud rustling noise filled it.

"Yes," said a female voice suddenly, "I'm sorry, my husband is VERY upset about the state of his car."

Oh good. Someone calm.

"We wandered if we could get room service delivered to our current location?" she asked. Very sweetly. Too sweetly.

"And where is that?" asked the concierge curtly.

"The Vagabond Inn," she said, with a snort.

"I see."

He checked the computer. They *did* have two guests registered under Lee staying on the premises. He called the room. No one answered. The Lees stayed here frequently, and they *were* Platinum Elite Members. Very well.

"We would be happy to accommodate you and assist you with your vehicle. I will transfer you to room service now and they will take your order."

"You are too kind!" she said, enthusiastically.

As he prepared to transfer the call, he heard whispered...

"And extra bacon."