Your smile is not as bright as it used to be
"Your smile is not as bright as it used to be."
"Are you surprised?" Daisy asks.
Coulson shakes his head. "Not at all." He gives her an apologetic half smile. "Sorry. I'm not having a go, or trying to imply you should be smiling all the time."
"You're not one of those guys," she points out.
"I try not to be," he agrees. He's always found people, especially men, who tell women to 'Smile' thoroughly patronising, so he's always tried to avoid doing it himself.
She leans into his shoulder a bit, and he wrestles with the temptation to lift his left arm and wrap it around her shoulders – he's fairly sure Daisy wouldn't mind, but he's trying to be professional: he cannot yet forget Gonzales' accusations about his relationship with Daisy.
They're currently sitting on the couch in his office, looking over the plans for the base that housed the men and women who worked on the SHIELD helicarrier, the base which is going to be converted into a place where Inhumans can go to train away from most of SHIELD. It's not that he wants to hide the Inhumans away, so much as that he wants to protect them, as much as he can, from the having to deal with the stresses of being around the rest of SHIELD's agents, some of whom will undoubtedly be wary, or even hostile.
"I like the name 'The Cocoon', she tells him, and he hopes he's not blushing. "It sounds very cosy."
He smiles. "I'm hoping it will be. I hope it'll be somewhere safe and cosy where you can train and work with your people without the close scrutiny of SHIELD."
"Particularly the new Council?"
He nods. The so-called Real SHIELD had been amalgamated with Coulson's SHIELD, but with a 'Council' to offer oversight. He can't claim to be happy at the development, but he can't deny, either, that 'his' SHIELD needs the resources that Gonzales' SHIELD has brought with them in terms of personnel, equipment, and funds.
"Hey, if the Council gets too much, you can always sneak out to the Cocoon and spend time with me – " She hesitates for a tiny moment, before continuing, "and my team."
"Yeah?" He feels his heart lift at her words.
"Of course. Phil."
His heart is now doing very strange things indeed. He'd asked her to call him 'Phil' after she'd asked him to call her Daisy, and had explained why she was changing her name officially to the name her parents had chosen, but she's still mostly been calling him 'Coulson' or 'Director' so it continues to gives him a thrill when she says 'Phil' instead.
"I'd like that," he says softly, and she smiles.
"Good." She returns her attention to the plans, and the notes she's been making on her tablet, and Coulson forces himself to focus his attention on the task, and not on the young woman beside him.
DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ
"Welcome to The Cocoon, Phil." Daisy greets him with a bright smile as he climbs from the SUV.
"Thank you Agent Johnson."
She smirks at him, probably because he got her name right, then gestures at the door. "Shall we?"
He nods, and follows her as she crosses the floor of the underground parking garage, then badges herself inside. He presents his own lanyard, and a moment later the electronic voice that just greeted Daisy also greets him.
"I thought I'd save the grand tour until tomorrow," she tells him as she walks beside him down the long hallway. "You must be tired after driving all the way up here."
"A bit," he admits. He'd had a fairly long day at the Playground before setting out, and it's a four hour drive, so he's definitely weary.
"I thought we could have dinner in my quarters, and then you can get yourself settled into your bunk, and then tomorrow we'll look around."
"That sounds good," he says gratefully. "But do you mind if I grab a shower before we eat?"
"Of course not, Phil."
They take an elevator up four stories, then Daisy ushers him out into a wider, more pleasant hallway, her hand feeling warm at the small of his back.
"I've put you in the bunk next to my quarters," she tells him. "Though you could've chosen any one of the bunks on this floor since there's so few of us here yet."
"Where are Alisha, Joey, and the others?" he asks curiously.
"On the floor below – nearer the 'action'." She makes air quotes around the last word with a little smirk.
He'll admit to being relieved that Lincoln isn't sleeping next to, or even with, Daisy. And he knows he has no right to feel that way, no right to feel even the tiniest bit jealous, but he can't help it: Phil Coulson has loved Daisy Johnson for a long time, though he's only recently admitted that to himself, and certainly hasn't admitted it to anyone else (though he suspects that Dr Garner has guessed).
"So you're in the lofty grandeur of the top floor," he teases, and she snickers.
"Lofty grandeur," she repeats, as if it's ridiculous. Which he supposes it is, though he's seen the plans for her quarters so he knows that they're certainly more spacious than the bunk she has back at the Playground.
She opens a door, and steps inside, switching on the central light to reveal a pleasant room: it's not as big as his bedroom back at the base, but it's certainly not a closet, either.
"I'm afraid only my quarters have an ensuite," she tells him, then gestures back through the open door. "But the bathroom is straight across the hall so you won't have far to walk." He nods, and she steps back into the hallway. "When you're ready, I'll be next door." She gestures to the door that's at the end of the hall, facing down its length.
"I'll be as quick as I can," he tells her.
She frowns. "Take your time, Phil," she says. "There's no hurry."
"Okay."
She nods. "I'll see you in a bit." Then she leans in and presses her lips lightly against his cheek. "It's good to see you again," she says, and walks away before he can gather his wits sufficiently to respond.
He swallows, then steps back into his room and closes the door. As he unpacks his overnight bag and finds his toiletries, then lays out a change of clothes, he can't help wondering why Daisy kissed him – okay, pecked him on the cheek, then. He doesn't mind – in fact, he's delighted, but he's also puzzled.
Shaking his head, he strips out of his suit with a mental sigh of relief, then pulls on his bathrobe and grabs his toiletries before crossing to the bathroom opposite.
He takes his time showering, and can't resist the temptation to jerk off, although he's somewhat ashamed at doing so when the object of his fantasies is sitting unaware in her quarters.
Once he's dried and dressed again, he knocks on Daisy's door, and hears a 'Come in' from within, so he pushes open the door and steps in, then blinks slightly. He's standing on the threshold of Daisy's sitting room and it seems to exude homeliness. It's quite a shock, given how relatively austere her bunk is back at the Playground.
She looks over at him from her spot by the table where there are two place settings laid, and cocks an eyebrow. "You okay, Phil?"
"Yeah," he says. "Sorry. Just admiring the effect."
She gives him another bright smile, and he suddenly realises that she's practically glowing: it's as if taking charge of her own team has given her a new strength of purpose, and it's clear – to him at least – that she's exactly where she should be, and although he'll miss her presence at the Playground, he's very glad for her.
He crosses the room, taking in the flowers, fabrics, and candles which are subtle and discreet yet definitely give the room a character and warmth that seems like the perfect reflection of Daisy.
"I like what you've done with the place," he tells her as she gestures for him to take a seat.
She ducks her head, her face flushing. "Thanks. I – uh – I took inspiration from my mom, well, from Afterlife, really."
"It looks very comfortable," he tells her sincerely.
"That's what I was aiming for." She goes to fetch two covered plates from the desk at the side of the room, and sets them down on the table. "Joey helped me to cook this," she says. "So it should, you know, be edible." She lifts the covers from the plates, revealing baked fish on a bed of steamed veggies, then sets a basket of thick slices of bread between their plates.
"It looks very good," he assures her, then reaches for his cutlery, and they settle down to eat, talking desultorily about his day at the Playground.
After eating, they relocate to the couch by the window with their mugs of coffee, and he gets her to tell him about how the training is going. He listens to her, sipping his coffee, and noticing how animated she grows when she's talking of her new team, and he feels so happy for her. She deserves this – she's worked so hard and been through such a lot, but she's never given up, and he thinks that some day quite soon he'll be able to step down as Director of SHIELD and let her take up the role she's so obviously born for. It's a slightly bittersweet thought – but mostly sweet.
He finishes his coffee and sets the empty mug on the floor, then reaches out and touches her knee (she's sitting facing him with her feet tucked under her). "I'm going to miss you," he says, and she goes wide-eyed.
"Are you leaving, Phil?"
He shakes his head. "No. I meant I'm going to miss having you at the Playground. You've been my right hand woman for quite some time now – it'll be strange not having you there, but you belong here, and I can tell your team are going to be a great asset as soon as you're ready to unleash them."
"Phil," she says, and wraps her fingers around his wrist, then slides her hand up his arm. "I love this casual look you've adopted." She has both her hands wrapped around his upper arms now, and her face is ridiculously close, and he tries desperately to think of something to say – maybe a comment about his sweater-and-jeans attire, but he can't find the words, and he can hardly breathe, and then her mouth touches his lightly, and he grabs her shoulders to press his mouth more firmly against hers.
"Daisy," he breathes, then he nips at her lower lip, laving the spot with his tongue, and she moans, then climbs onto his lap, making him groan as her weight settles over him.
She insinuates her hands under his soft sweater, dragging her palms up his torso, and tweaking his nipples which makes his cock throb as it begins to thicken. They spend a long time kissing, their hands wandering over each other's bodies, until she finally reaches down and unfastens his belt and zip.
"Phil." She hisses his name when her questing hands find his stiff prick pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans.
"Daisy." He grabs her wrists, lifting her hands away and she gives him a worried look. "You have a bed, don't you?" he asks a little desperately, and after a blank moment she chuckles.
"A very nice, very comfy bed," she agrees.
"Can we make use of it, then?"
She smirks, then lifts herself off his lap before grabbing his left hand and tugging him towards the door that leads into her bedroom. He can't recall the last time he desired someone this much and this intensely, but that's not really a surprise: it's what he thinks of as 'the Daisy effect'.
She uses a sparring move to tumble him backwards onto her bed, then proceeds to strip him rapidly, before swiftly ditching her own clothes. She settles her body over his, guiding his throbbing cock into her slick heat, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from him.
He has a feeling that sex with Daisy is going to be spectacular and he's pretty excited at the prospect.