I’ve been buying the wrong underwear.
"I've been buying the wrong underwear," Daisy mutters.
Coulson's expression at hearing this is understandably startled. "I beg your pardon?"
She snorts. "Sorry. Just – Never mind." She goes to toss the waiting room magazine aside, but his prosthetic hand clasps her wrist, then slides over her hand to take it from her, and she does her best to suppress the little shiver that she feels at his touch – it's not that his hand is a prosthetic – that doesn't bother her – it's that he's not usually so touchy-feely with her.
She watches from the corner of her eye as he flips through the magazine until he finds the article she was just skimming while they waited for Cal – no, Dr Winslow – to finish up with a patient.
"I always think women should wear whatever underwear makes them feel good about themselves," he tells her, and she feels her eyebrows shoot up.
"Really?" she asks, curious despite herself – this conversation has major embarrassment potential, but apparently Coulson feels no embarrassment about discussing this with her. Is it because it's her, she wonders, or is it because he's Coulson and he's very definitely not like other men.
"Of course," he says, sounding surprised that she doubts him. "If you only care about feeling comfortable, wear – what do they call them? – granny knickers." She can't help a snort escaping at hearing those words from him, and he flicks an amused glance her way before bringing his attention back to the magazine pages. "If you want to look sexy, whether for yourself or someone else – wear the lacy, sexy stuff."
He closes the magazine and tosses it onto the coffee table in front of the couch where they're sitting. "After all," he goes on, "men don't have to worry about it – why should women? The double standards that apply to men and women in every facet of their lives is – Mmphf."
Daisy can't help it, and she knows it's impulsive, and might well ruin their friendship and working relationship, but when he goes all feminist on her like this, she has to kiss him. To her immense relief, he immediately kisses her back, once he's over his initial surprise. His right hand cups the back of her head, and his left strokes slowly up and down her spine, and she can't quite hold back a moan of pleasure.
A loudly cleared throat brings her back out of the haze of lust and desire, and she pulls back, a bit too slowly, to look over at Cal – Dr Winslow, who's watching them with a very amused expression.
"I hate to interrupt," he tells them, "but it's almost the end of office hours, and I do have paperwork to do before I can go home."
Daisy feels herself blushing, and doesn't dare to look at Coulson – Phil – although his vibrations tell her quite clearly that he's also grown very aroused.
"Sorry," she says, and peels herself away from Phil to get to her feet and shake hands with her unsuspecting father.
"We want to buy a dog for the son of a friend," she begins, and after a few moments, she senses Phil moving to stand half beside, half behind her, and his hand presses lightly to the small of her back. It feels just as good, albeit in a different way, to his hand stroking her back, and she lets herself press back lightly against his palm.
When Dr Winslow turns away to pick something up from his reception desk, Phil leans in and whispers in her ear: "Later", and she shivers at the promise in his voice.
Maybe she'll go and buy some new underwear after this – and he can help her choose.