I think I made a mistake
"I think I made a mistake."
Daisy's voice is quiet, and almost muffled where her head's resting on Coulson's chest as they lie cuddled together in bed.
"About what?" he asks curiously. His right hand is idly stroking up and down her left arm, which rests across his chest.
"This. Us."
"Daisy?" He's startled by her response – he hadn't imagined she'd ever think them getting together was a bad idea, especially not when they've been together six months. "What do you mean?" He's trying not to panic, but it's not easy.
Daisy, of course, senses his panic, and she pushes herself up so she can look at him face to face. "I mean I'm not sure it was such a good idea." She gestures to his right leg, currently bandaged heavily and propped on a pillow. "We both know death follows me everywhere I go."
Coulson sits up. "Daisy," he says softly, "that's not true." He reaches out and cups her cheek with his right hand. "Come on, love, you know that's not true."
She shifts and leans forward, resting her forehead against his, and he wraps his arms around her. "Do I?" She sighs heavily. "Eric Koenig. Trip. My mom. Lincoln. They're all dead because of me. And I couldn't save Charles Hinton."
"Oh Daisy." He tightens his arms around her, wishing he knew how to comfort her, or convince her that she isn't a curse or a jinx or whatever she's thinking.
"And how many times have you been injured because of me? Or – "
"Daisy." He cuts her off, and holds her at arm's length from him so he look her in the eyes. "Do you really believe that in the 30 or so years I was a SHIELD agent before I met you I never got injured?" He snorts. "You do remember I died? That I was stabbed through the heart by Loki – which, let me remind you, was before we even met."
"I know, I know, but – "
"No, Daisy." He speaks very firmly now. "No buts. You are not a curse or a jinx or anything else, okay?" He cups her cheek again, drawing the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone because a tear's slipped down her face. "You're a superhero," he whispers. "You're my superhero – my favouritest and best – even better than Captain America. You are a force for good in this shitty world, and I am proud to work and fight along side you every single day. You're the best thing that ever happened to me – or to SHIELD – and neither of us could function half so well without your courage, your strength, and your moral righteousness."
He pulls her back into an embrace as she's crying properly now. "You can walk away from me and from SHIELD," he tells her. "But don't think that I'd let you go without a fight this time."
"Phil." She sobs his name, and he caresses and cuddles her, murmuring a stream of loving reassurance to her until the emotional storm subsides.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Don't be," he says firmly. "You're allowed to have moments of doubt, just like the rest of us."
"I just hate seeing you hurt," she says.
"Well likewise," he tells her, trying for a smile. "But we come through and we come back fighting."
"Yeah." She sighs, and he encourages her to resume her former position, cuddled up with him, and she leans in to give him a slow, languid kiss before she settles her head on his chest again.
"Feel better?" he asks gently.
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Any time." He squeezes her a bit more tightly, then begins stroking a hand up and down her side, while resting his right hand over her left arm where it lies across his chest again.
"Love you," she murmurs, and he thinks she sounds sleepy. He hopes she'll take a nap, at least.
He presses his lips to her hair. "Love you, too."