There's blood on my hands
"There's blood on my hands."
"There's blood on both our hands," Daisy replies, and wonders if Coulson's going into shock: he seems captivated, of all things, by the blood on their hands after he got shot by an asshole who was trying to take her down.
"C'mon, Phil, snap out of it," she says sharply, because she needs him focused, not fascinated.
He swallows, then whispers. "Sorry, Daisy."
"Don't be," she says, and kisses his forehead, a gesture which seems to surprise him as much as it does her – since when does she go around kissing fellow agents on the forehead, she thinks. Well, since the agent in question is Phil Coulson, the man she's loved secretly and hopelessly for years.
She opens a couple of the pouches on her utility built, glad that the latter's been redesigned to hold more stuff for when she's in the field. She takes out some wipes to get the blood off her hands before she tries to start dressing the wound, and she wipes the excess off Coulson's upper left arm so she can see what she's doing. She drops a couple of the wipes into his right hand so he can clean up his own hands – hoping that he'll be able to focus better without the sight of blood on his hands.
She gets the wound cleaned and dressed, and yes, no longer having blood on his own hands helps Coulson to concentrate so that he can assist her as she's never had to dress a bullet wound in the field before.
"Okay," she says, helping him up from the ground. "Let's get the hell out of Dodge."
He stumbles a bit, which she guesses is either shock or blood loss, or both – she's not a doctor, so she's not sure, but the fact is that he's unsteady on his feet, so she ducks under his right arm, and wraps her left around his torso to support some of his weight and keep him steady.
"Okay?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says, but his heart rate's increased, he's breathless, and his vibrations are 'off' –which is not something she can explain to anyone who doesn't have her powers.
"Right," she says firmly. "We need to get you somewhere safe to recover.
"Daisy, I'm – "
"Don't tell me you're fine, Phil," she says, almost snapping at him with exasperation – not that she really has room to be mad at him for minimising his injuries when she still does the same thing. "Vibrations don't lie."
He swallows, and the sound seems absurdly loud in the echoing silence. "Sorry."
"God." She stops them both walking for a moment and scrubs her free hand over her face a moment. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to snap."
"It's okay," he says gently. "You're stressed. It's understandable."
"Yeah." She sighs. "It's probably gonna be a couple of hours before Mack can get to us. I knew we should've brought a backup team."
"Daisy." This time Coulson's tone is stern, almost Director-ish, and she gives him a rueful look.
"Hindsight, huh?"
He chuckles weakly, then can't quite hide a wince. "Yeah."
"Okay." Her tone's decisive now. "I'm going to borrow a vehicle and get us away from here. I can't believe the authorities haven't descended on us yet, but since they haven't – "
"Yeah."
DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ
Some three hours later they're about a hundred miles away, in another state altogether, and Coulson's just stirring into life in the back seat of the suburban family car she 'borrowed': she'd made him as comfortable as she could in the back: her field suit jacket's folded under his head, and her utility belt is on the seat by his feet so that Daisy appears to be dressed in a tank and black pants – a typical suburban mom, she hopes, not a superhero and her sidekick.
She's been keeping an eye out for somewhere suitable to go to ground – Mack's been delayed getting away to come to their assistance (the problem with running a black ops team that's only semi-official – and certainly not known to SHIELD's bosses, she supposes), and now she spots something that looks suitable: a house set back from the main road, with a weed-infested track, and what looks like a bunch of junk mail stuffed into the mailbox by the gate. She scrambles out and opens the gate, then drives the car inside, before closing the gate again, then she bumps carefully along the track and into a gravelled yard.
"Where are we?" Coulson asks, sitting up as she pulls the car to a stop out of sight of the track.
"Somewhere safe, I hope," she tells him.
She slips out of the car, then opens the back door, and he slides out, stumbling a little when his feet reach the ground. "Just a sec," she tells him, and reaches back in to grab her belt and field jacket. Then she helps Coulson across the yard to the door.
"It'll be locked, won't it?" he asks doubtfully.
"Mmm." Daisy places her palm flat against the lock and carefully vibrates it. A moment later there's a distinct click, and the door swings open at her shove.
"Wow, Daisy."
She glances sideways at Coulson's face and sees his 'heart eyes' as she thinks of them – the frankly ridiculously adoring face he does whenever she does something with her powers that he's not seen before.
She guides him straight up the stairs, wanting to get him into an actual bed, and she's relieved to discover that while the house is clearly abandoned, it's still fully furnished, and while it smells musty, she can't see any obvious signs of mould. She guides Coulson into a chair, then rummages in the closets and a chest in the corner until she finds clean, slightly cedar-scented bed linens, and she quickly strips the bed, then remakes it with fresh bedding.
"You don't have to go to all this trouble for me," he tells her as she's finishing up making the bed.
"No, I guess I don't, but I want to, so."
"Daisy." His soft voice and softer expression does weird things to her, but she ignores it, and guides him across to the bed, removing his shoes, and ensuring he's comfortable.
"Are you okay?" he asks when she has him settled to her satisfaction.
"Hungry," she admits.
"I don't know what food you'll find downstairs," he says.
"Me either," she says, "but I'll look. Failing that, I do have those protein bars Jemma makes."
He chuckles softly at her expression: while she loves Jemma and is grateful to her friend for making up the protein bars, they really don't taste of much. One of these days, Daisy's going to get the recipe off her and make some up for herself, but with more flavour.
"Do you want anything?" she asks.
"Some water would be nice," he admits, and she nods.
"I'll be back in a few then."
"Not going anywhere," he murmurs, and she can't help noticing that he looks paler than usual.
"Not until Mack's free to come and fetch us, anyway," she tells him as lightly as she can.
"Mmm."
She leans down and presses her lips to his forehead and his eyes, which had closed, open again as he gives her a questioning look. She shrugs, not really sure what to say, then heads back downstairs in search of food, and a glass for water.
After some rummaging she comes up with a couple of cans of vegetable soup, a box of crackers, and some cans of fruit, all of which are not yet past their last date to eat. She fills a glass with cold water, and carries that up to the bedroom, and Coulson accepts it gratefully, along with some painkillers from Daisy's utility belt.
"I found canned soup and fruit, and crackers," she tells him.
"A veritable feast," he says dryly, and she chuckles.
"Better than protein bars, at any rate," she says. "Want some? I mean, you should probably eat something to keep your strength up after getting shot."
"Yeah, I should. Thanks. Do you want me to come and help."
She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Phil, I know I'm not a good cook, but I think even I can manage to open a few cans and heat some soup."
He smirks, and she smiles back, glad that he's feeling chipper enough to tease. "I'll await my share of the feast, then," he says.
She bows. "Your wish is my command, sire."
He chokes with laughter, then waves her away, and she hurries back downstairs feeling considerably more chipper herself.
DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ
Daisy wakes abruptly from the light sleep she'd fallen into after eating the scratch meal with Coulson, and he stirs beside her. She hadn't meant to fall asleep on the bed beside him, but she'd been so tired from their fight earlier, and from worrying about Coulson, that her exhaustion had caught up with her.
"What is it?" he asks softly.
"A vehicle's coming," she says. "Wait here, while I go and see if it's Mack or trouble." She slips the ICER from its holster on her utility belt and moves noiselessly off the bed and across the room. She pads, sock-clad and silent, down the stairs and across the ground floor until she reaches the window that overlooks the yard. She sighs with relief when she spots a familiar SUV pulling up, and sees two very familiar figures climb out.
She waits until they've almost reached the door, then opens it quickly, and is pleased that though they're clearly both startled, they also both produce their ICERS, only to relax when they see Daisy's waiting for them.
"Tremors," Mack says. "Everything okay?"
"It is now you're here," she tells him.
He and Elena follow her inside, and she starts up the stairs to fetch Coulson, and meets him half way. He's carrying her boots, utility belt and field suit jacket, and has put on his own shoes but left them untied. She touches his wrist, and gestures at them, so he stops on the stairs and lets her fix them.
"I couldn't do them myself without feeling dizzy," he tells her quietly.
She bites her bottom lip, nods, then slips her arm around him and brings him the rest of the way downstairs.
"Let's get out of here," Daisy says, putting on her boots and jacket as soon as they reach the bottom of the stairs. She looks at Mack. "Did you bring the item I requested?"
"I did," he answers, and pulls an envelope from his pocket.
"Thanks."
She takes the envelope and once they're outside, she crosses to the borrowed car, then puts the envelope in the glove compartment. She's already made a note of the car's registration plate, and once they're out of the area, she'll anonymously report its location to the authorities so that the owner will be able to recover it. The envelope contains some cash which she hopes will make up for the inconvenience of her taking it.
"Okay, time to go," she says, and follows Coulson into the back of the SUV, while Mack and Elena climb back into the driver and passenger seats.
"Did you complete your mission objective?" Elena asks, half turning in her seat to look at them, and Daisy nods, and in a few moments they're deep in a discussion of the current iteration of the Watchdogs – although they're calling themselves something else now – and the trip back to the Zephyr passes quickly.
She's a little concerned about Coulson, who's very quiet, but his vibrations aren't agitated, so she doesn't worry unduly about his infrequent contributions to the conversation – she suspects the painkillers she gave him are wearing off, but she doesn't offer him any more as she knows whoever Mack brought along for medical assistance will likely be able to give him something stronger once he's in their care.
Once they're aboard the plane, she sees Coulson to the Infirmary, and is surprised to find that Mack brought Jemma along – she doesn't tend to come out on field missions that often since their stint in the Framework, but Daisy guesses she felt concerned enough about Coulson's injury to come along.
"I'll be in the Director's cabin, writing my report, when you're done," she tells him, and he clasps her wrist in his free hand, then laces their fingers together and squeezes before heading into the Infirmary. As Daisy makes her way to the Director's cabin she wonders if Coulson's hand squeeze is the equivalent of her forehead kisses.
DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ
They're still a couple of hours away from the Playground when Coulson appears in the doorway of the Director's cabin, and she gives him an appraising look as he crosses the room towards her carrying two mugs of coffee.
"How is it?" she asks, nodding at his arm, which has been far more expertly dressed.
"Sore," he says, and sets the mugs down on the desk. "Can I talk to you?"
"Of course," she says, wondering why he sounds so serious. She picks up her mug of coffee, and murmurs a thank you, then gives him an expectant look.
"Since we got out of the Framework, you've been a lot more – " He pauses, frowning in thought, and she waits with curiosity to see what adjectives he's going to use to describe her behaviour. "Solicitous and careful with me – which I very much appreciate."
"But – ?" she prompts after a short silence, because she feels sure there's a but coming.
"Not exactly a but," he says. "Today you went a step beyond that solicitousness and carefulness." She opens her mouth to apologise, but he holds up his hand to stop her. "Daisy, I'm really not complaining." To her surprise he seems to be blushing. "I liked it. When you kissed me, it made me feel safe."
"Then I'm glad I did it," she tells him. "And if you like it, then I won't offer to stop."
"Thank you."
She nods, then drinks some of her coffee, though it's still a bit too hot, because she thinks she might start blushing if she meets his eyes. When she does look up, he's smirking a little, and she rolls her eyes, which elicits a chuckle, but he doesn't say anything else for the moment.
DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ
When they get back to the Playground they go their separate ways, and Daisy doesn't see Coulson again until about eight o'clock – she's on her way back to her bunk with a mug of coffee, intending to catch up on some report reading (because this is what happens when you head up a black ops team of superheroes), and he catches her up part way there.
"Hey," she says, smiling at him.
"Daisy."
She cocks an eyebrow at him when he doesn't immediately say any more than her name. "Phil." She mimics his too-solemn tone, hoping to make him smile, but he doesn't. "What's up?"
"Can we talk?"
She frowns. "We already are?"
He looks a little frustrated, but not at her, she thinks, then he takes a deeper breath. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you – in private, if that's okay?"
She's a bit surprised, but nods anyway, and gestures at her door when they reach her bunk. "After you."
"Thanks." He steps inside, and she thinks he seems nervous, almost – which doesn't really make sense because she can't think of single reason why he'd be nervous.
She makes a beeline for her desk and sets her mug of coffee down on the coaster (blame Coulson for that). "What can I do for you?" she asks, turning back towards him.
Rather than answering, he steps into her personal space, cups her face carefully in both hands, then brings his mouth to hover over hers. "Kiss me?" he breathes.
She can't deny she's surprised by the request, but she doesn't hesitate to respond, nor does she waste words in doing so, she simply brings her mouth to his and kisses him.
When they eventually pull apart to breathe, she clasps his shoulders and steps backwards to her bed, guiding him to sit beside her.
"Gotta confess, Phil, I wasn't expecting this."
He smiles, almost shyly. "I wasn't planning on this," he admits. "But I couldn't stop thinking about you pressing kisses to my forehead, and I felt I wanted more. And I hoped you would too."
"For the longest time," she admits.
"Good." He kisses her this time, and she finds herself slipping one hand under the back of his polo shirt, then trailing her fingertips up his spine. He moans quietly into her mouth, and she begins trying to get his shirt off, suddenly wanting more skin to skin contact.
Within moments they're naked on her bed, their bodies tangling together as they kiss and caress, and Daisy can feel the buzz of his arousal in his vibrations. It gives her a buzz, too, and she guides his hand between her thighs, moaning a little more loudly when he strokes his index down her slit before pushing it inside her. He soon adds a second finger, and she gives herself up to the pleasure of Coulson's – Phil's – fingers inside her twisting and stroking until he drives her to an intense climax, then she rolls onto her back and tugs his body over hers. Being a very smart guy, he gets the message straight away, and he quickly slides his erection into her, filling and stretching her.
"God, Phil, that feels so good," she mutters, and tightens her muscles around him.
"You too," he murmurs, then buries his face in the side of her neck as he begins to move, rocking slowly at first, then gradually picking up speed until he's thrusting deep and hard into her, and she can feel her orgasm building up and up, and she has to grab the corner of her pillow and stuff it into her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure as she comes incredibly hard, and then she feels his climax spilling into her, and she has another, shallower orgasm.
"Wow, Phil," she says, looking up at him with what she's sure is a rather dazed expression. He looks pretty dazed himself.
"Yeah," he says, a little breathlessly. "Yeah, Daisy, that was – that was really good."
She nuzzles the side of his neck, nips at his earlobe, which elicits a shudder of obvious pleasure, which she takes note of, then kisses him open-mouthed and kinda dirty.
"You will stay the night, won't you?" she asks hopefully.
"Gladly," he murmurs, and wraps his arms around her, rolling onto his back and bringing her with him so that she lies atop him. "Very gladly."
She smiles: he sounds sleepy and sated, and very satisfied. "I'll allow you a nap," she tells him, nudging his nose with hers, "but the night's young yet, so don't think that's all I'll want from you." He looks both scandalised and delighted by this, and she smirks. "Think of it as your reward for a job well done," she teases.
He chuckles. "Your wish is my command," he says in a solemn tone.
"You might regret that," she warns him, and he laughs, and she laughs too, snuggling herself tightly against him.
"I love you," he whispers, and she lifts her head, surprised that he's saying this so soon, and then thinking that it's really not that soon at all – given how long they've known each other, and how long they've been dancing around this.
"Love you too, Phil." She rests her head on his shoulder, thinking that a nap wouldn't be a bad thing at all.
Today's turned out quite differently than she'd expected, but she can't say she actually minds.