Why are you whispering?
"Why are you whispering?" Daisy asks in a low voice.
Coulson shrugs. "It's the middle of the night," he says.
She raises her eyebrows. "But there's no one else in the base," she points out. "I mean, it's Thanksgiving – everyone else has gone away, even Koenig."
He chuckles weakly. "Yeah, sorry."
She shakes her head at him. "What are you doing up anyway?" She looks at the mug on the table in front of him, taking in the smell of Jemma's camomile tea. "Couldn't sleep?"
He nods. "You?"
"Same," she admits. "You know, I'm kinda surprised you're not having Thanksgiving with – " She cuts herself off with an apologetic shrug.
"Ros – Ms Price? She already made plans, and it was kinda late in the day to add someone new. Besides she's not my girlfriend, Daisy. Just a colleague."
Daisy bites her tongue and goes to root in the kitchen cabinets. She can't pretend she likes the Dragon Lady, not even for Coulson's sake. And while she wants him to be happy, she's not at all convinced that woman's the person to make him happy. How could she, when her values are so totally against everything Phil's stood for the last few years? She sighs, then startles when Coulson speaks from right behind her.
"Bad dreams?" he asks, and reaches past her to open another cabinet and fish around in the back.
"Too much on my mind to even fall asleep," she tells him.
He pauses his scrabbling, turning half towards her, and tentatively puts a hand on her back between her shoulder blades. "Anything I can help you with?" he asks softly.
"Not this time," she tells him – because how can she tell him that his not-a-girlfriend, the head of the ATCU, is the reason she can't sleep? He should be able to figure it out himself.
He presses his palm more firmly against her back for a moment, and she finds it a reassuring gesture. "I'm sorry, Daisy," he says softly. "Our working with the ATCU probably isn't helping, is it?"
Very perceptive of you, she thinks, slightly resentfully. "Honestly? No. It's not helping at all."
His expression closes down, the soft open look of a few moments ago going completely blank, and Daisy steps away from him, opening a different cabinet and taking out a tall glass, which she then fills with milk.
"I think I'm going back to bed," he says, his voice a little unsteady. "Try again."
"Good luck," she tells him sincerely.
He nods. "Thanks."
She makes herself turn away and not watch him as he takes his mug of tea and heads out of the kitchen.
"Blew it," she mutters a little resentfully once his vibrations have faded from her awareness.
DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ
When Coulson enters the kitchen the next morning, slightly later than normal, it takes him a moment to fully register what he's smelling – then the scent of pumpkin hits him properly, and he moves further into the room, then stares in disbelief at the two cooling racks on the counter beside the oven on which repose a number of cookies, pumpkin-flavoured cookies topped with cream cheese unless he's very much mistaken.
"Oh Daisy," he whispers. There's a lump in his throat and a prickle at the back of his eyes, and he suddenly feels an absolute monster – he's not done right by Daisy where the ATCU and its head are concerned, although he's been trying to do the right thing. For some reason the sight of the cookies – which she must have spent ages making last night – makes him realise that trying isn't good enough, not when it comes to Daisy. She's the most important person in all this.
He shakes his head, then goes back to his bunk and changes out of his sweatpants, t-shirt, and sweater, pulling on jeans, a pale blue button down, and a different sweater, then dragging on his coat as well. He feels sure there's a coffee shop or diner already open somewhere, even on the Thanksgiving.
When he gets back to the base, nearly an hour later, it's still relatively early, though not for Daisy, whom he knows still keeps to her early morning training schedule. On the off chance that she's in the gym, he heads there first. He'd prefer not to find her there, of course, because he'd rather she was finally getting some sleep, but the gym's on the way to the bunks anyway, so he figures he'll check there first.
It's deserted, so he goes on towards her bunk. It's only when he reaches it that he realises he doesn't want to wake her up if she is sleeping – but at the same time, he's brought her breakfast. Perhaps he can persuade her to have breakfast in bed, and then go back to sleep.
He's almost at her door when it opens and she comes out wearing her workout kit.
"Phil!" She sounds startled, as well she might.
"Daisy," he says softly. "I – uh – I brought you breakfast."
She frowns. "You didn't have to do that," she says.
"Like you didn't have to spend half the night making Thanksgiving cookies," he points out, and she ducks her head.
"I wanted to do something nice," she says, sounding defensive. "Even if no one else is here today."
"It's very nice of you," he says, and she looks back up at him, biting her bottom lip.
"Did you bring breakfast for two?" she asks.
"I did," he says, "but I wasn't – "
"Come in," she says, and opens her door again, stepping backwards and holding it wide.
He crosses the threshold, aware that he's never been inside her room before. It's neat and rather spartan, he notices, and the bed's already made, which makes him a little sad.
"I don't have any chairs in here, sorry," she tells him, "but you're welcome to share my bed." Her eyes go wide and she blushes as she obviously realises what a double entendre that is. It relaxes him, though, and he chuckles softly.
"I don't mind," he tells her, and they move to sit side by side on the bed. He holds out the cup carrier her got from the coffee shop. "That's yours."
She takes the one he nodded at, and gives him a shy sort of smile. "Thanks."
He holds out the bakery bag in his left hand. "I thought you might enjoy these."
She sets the coffee cup on the nightstand, then takes the bag from him and opens it to reveal three chocolate and orange muffins.
"Phil," she says softly, and bumps her shoulder against his. "Thanks." She takes one out and holds it out to him.
"I bought those for you," he protests.
"And I choose to share them with you," she says firmly.
He accepts it with a nod, then takes a first mouthful of coffee.
"I should really save these for after my workout," she says thoughtfully, then smiles wickedly. "But I'm not gonna."
He chuckles, then bumps his shoulder against hers in solidarity. "That's my girl."
They eat their muffins and drink their coffee in a silence that's companionable, to Coulson's great relief. He's pretty sure he doesn't deserve Daisy forgiving him this easily for getting SHIELD involved with the ATCU, but then she's always been far more forgiving than anyone he's ever known. He suspects it's a result of her upbringing – and it still angers him that SHIELD was responsible for her shitty childhood, even if it was done to protect her.
"Hey," she says softly. "No sad faces today, okay? It's Thanksgiving – let's be thankful."
"I am thankful," he says firmly. "For you." She blushes, and opens her mouth, but he holds up his hand. "Please, Daisy, let me finish." She nods, biting her bottom lip. "I'm thankful that we met, and that I've had the privilege of working beside you, and of the chance to put the resources in your way that have helped you to fulfil the potential I saw in you three years ago when you came aboard the Bus. I'm thankful for all the support you've given me, even when I shut you out. And I'm thankful that your example's inspired me to try to become a better man."
"Phil," she says softly. Then leans in and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. "I'm thankful for you, too."
He turns his head and lifts his hand to cup the back of her neck, and she looks him in the eye, then nods, so he kisses her properly, slipping his tongue into her mouth and tangling it with hers.
They spend some time making out, barely coming up for air as they kiss and kiss and kiss, until eventually she moans and pushes him down onto the bed.
"Phil," she gasps, and he knows what she wants, and although he's quite sure he's not good enough for her, and he definitely knows he doesn't deserve her, he doesn't hesitate to bring her body down over his. Pretty soon he's naked and hard, and she's rolling a condom onto his cock before guiding it into her slick heat.
"Daisy," he groans as he sinks into her velvet warmth.
"Phil." She moans, and he can feel that he's stretching her as he fills her, and it's almost enough to send him over the edge prematurely. Once he's buried to the hilt she squeezes her inner walls around him, and he groans again, then begins to thrust.
DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ
"So I guess I don't need to go to the gym for my workout today after all," she says, a couple of sweaty, satisfying hours later.
He chuckles. "I guess you don't," he says, and continues stroking his hand up and down her spine as she lies half on top of him, her head resting below his chin.
"Good. I kinda prefer this sort of workout, to be honest."
"Mmhmm."
She chuckles this time, then lifts her head and kisses him, slow and languorous. "Are we gonna grab a shower and get dressed, or – "
"Or – for now," he says.
"Or what?" she asks.
"Stay here and have a nap?" he suggests.
"Mmm. Okay, I can get behind that." She manoeuvres them under the covers – he's not entirely sure how as he's pretty sleepy at the moment, then presses her body tightly against his again.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Phil," she whispers.
"Happy Thanksgiving Daisy."