Hey

‘We haven’t exactly been….careful’

Phil was trailing his fingertips in soothing circles along Melinda’s back when he paused deliberately on the side of her abdomen as he spoke. He felt bad for disturbing her post coital slumber but there was only so many times he could have this conversation in his head without her rather crucial input. The tiny woman curled against his chest seemed intent on breaking his heart as she sat up slowly, drawing the comforter around her and fixing him with a creased look of concern. She was a little flushed and a lot beautiful and damn, Phil Coulson was in trouble.

‘That’s my fault too, if you still like it like this’, she shifted her bare leg against him, sending an involuntary shiver down Phil’s spine as she referenced their bare forms, ‘I can ask Jemma to put me back on the shot, she’s already – ‘

Phil had to force the words out, before he lost his nerve.

‘And what if that’s not what I wanted?’

Her brown eyes lifted to his, and yep, the woman had to be trying to break his heart. She looked disappointed, hopeful.. ?

And so, at the risk of everything he now held dear, he said it as plainly as his nerves would let him;

‘What if I wasn’t interested in being careful?’

Her gaze never faltered but he didn’t miss the way her throat clenched as she swallowed,

‘I thought your priorities were always to be – careful?’

He tugged her slowly back down, so that her head rested on the pillow, facing him, and so that maybe the comforting warmth between them might say some of what he couldn’t;

‘Maybe I’m only interested in being not-careful with you – maybe – maybe I’m ready to be terrifyingly invested in being not-careful, with you’

He couldn’t hold her gaze any longer, knew she’d need space to process –

Her warm kiss against his mouth was a surprise, to spite the intimate press of their bodies as they laid side-by-side. His hands flew to her hair, reflexively, and he allowed himself a minute to soak up her affections before he stilled her. He got a somewhat sulky pout in return, as he tried to search her eyes for confirmation of the answer his unsteady heart thought she was trying to give him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Melinda was apparently done with talking for the morning as she straddled his hips in one fluent movement and stole the breath he was about to take. He was about to argue as her mouth moved once again to his, but she stopped short, her eyes fixed on his, uncertain and questioning.

Phil knew that it was his turn to stop talking then, and quickly drew her down to meet his lips before rolling them suddenly, so that she was pressed firmly beneath him.

Her alarm was chiming somewhere on his right, and if Melinda heard it, she didn’t seem to care. And Phil found himself unable to care about anything at all really, except Melinda’s heat around him and the warmth between them.

Hell, she’d have to be late today, and hopefully again, very soon.

The recent memory left a warmth in his chest as Coulson awoke slowly, only to find the sheets regrettably cold. His vaguely remembered Melinda whispering the promise of a speeding return as he drifted off into a (in his opinion, well earned) nap. Another nap sounded pretty good actually, the fact that no one was breaking down his door meant that it must still have been pretty early. Sleep had almost claimed him again by the time he realised what had woken him in the first place as the insistent buzz of the phone started up again. Knowing his was currently silent on his bedside table, Phil groped blindly towards Melinda’s side of the bed and huffed as he came up empty.

Now more alert, Phil realized the sound was coming from the dresser Melinda had commandeered on the far side of the room. Looking around as he stretched lazily, Phil was glad to see the building evidence of Melinda’s integration is his physical space, and not just his heart and head, as it had been for so long. The red sweater she liked to read in was draped over the chair in the corner, the heavy mug she preferred to keep her tea hot sitting atop a tattered book on the low table beside it.

Alright, alright, I’m coming, Phil muttered to himself as he stood, wincing slightly as he did so; while there wasn’t anything he’d likely trade for the ability to continuously fuck Melinda in the shower like they were 20 years younger than they actually were, he may have to carefully consider it’s functionality when weighed against the continuing use of his knees.

The battered old phone he had seen Melinda keep charged, but rarely use, was flashing on the dresser, her actual phone, most likely forgotten, beside it. The app currently open on the screen seemed to have stopped the phone from locking itself; there was a minimized video feed running on the bottom half of the screen, which was likely the culprit. Still, notifications continued to alert and Phil hastily cleared a few of them as he tried to shut it down.

AREA BREACHED: 1.1

AREA BREACHED: 1.4

ADDITIONAL FLOOR COMPROMISED

The video feed, Coulson realized with a pang of mixed emotions, was showing the entrance hallway in Melinda’s old home. He recognized the console table beside the door; and the hideous glass bowl on top of it that he had given Melinda as a gag gift when she had bought the place. Why would she be - ?

‘Excuse me, Sir? I’m sorry to bother you!’ Even when showing up at his personal quarters before 9a.m., Jemma Simmons was still polite as she knocked lightly on the door.

‘Just a second’, Phil hastily tugged on a pair of slacks and a shirt, unlocking the door for Jemma to let herself in as he struggled one-handedly with the buttons.

She was a flurry of nervous energy that Coulson was not prepared to deal with this early without coffee; maybe he’d treat himself this morning and drive to the little coffee place not far from the base (and conveniently close to Melinda’s old home).

‘Sir, I’m sorry to barge in on you like this – really – and I’m not even sure I should be doing this – But I saw May leave this morning – and I’m not sure if you sent her on assignment – and it made me realize that I really should say something if she was going to be in the field - - Sir?’

Jemma was still mid-ramble when she noted Coulson’s attention was fixed firmly on the phone in his white-knuckled grip, and not even remotely on her. Phil had ideally retrieved the abandoned device as it alerted again, clicking on the notification that populated on the screen;

STRUCTURAL BREACH: UPPER LEVEL

The grainy video feed switched to a dimly lit room, Coulson could barely make out the unfamiliar figure that appeared to be beating his fists against the wall, it wasn’t important, the much smaller form sprawled across what looked like a pile of kindling was unmistakably Melinda May.

The mixture of recent events crowded his consciousness as Phil came to, laying on the cramped bed in the familiar holding cell. He could hear Jemma talking, faintly, and it was her voice, from inside his foggy brain, that pulled him back into the darkness.

Damn ICERS.