Don't call me that
"Don't call me that," Daisy protests feebly.
Phil just smirks at her, the cad. "You don't like the handle?" he teases.
"I'm not an Avenger," she says.
"Which is exactly the point of the name," he says, being so annoyingly reasonable that she rolls her eyes.
"'The Avenger Who Isn't'," she quotes.
He chuckles. "You're a big damn superhero," he says. "You can't blame people for wondering why you're not an Avenger."
She shakes her head, and to her relief, he relents, settling in the chair beside her bed. "How're you feeling?"
"Battered and bruised," she says. "And hungry and exhausted."
"Time will take care of the first two," he tells her. "I'm hoping I can take care of the third, and that having taken care of that, you'll be able to take care of the fourth." He gently touches his fingertips to her left wrist. "What do you want to eat?"
"The usual Coulson Specials, please."
He gives her a shy grin. "Can do," he says, and starts to get to his feet. She clasps his wrist, then slides her fingers down to lace them with his, and squeezes.
"I've got a feeling I don't thank you often enough for the way you take care of me post-mission."
He shakes his head, giving her that soft, tender look he seems to get at times like this. "You don't have to thank me for that," he says. "You deserve to be taken care of."
"All the same, I appreciate it. Having you as my personal chef definitely helps me."
"Then let me help some more by getting you some grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato and basil soup, and the rest."
She nods, lets go of his wrist, then closes her eyes as he lets himself out of the bedroom attached to the Director's cabin aboard Zephyr1. Her cabin, now. Which is kinda weird, but also weirdly satisfying. When Coulson had first broached the idea a few months ago, she'd laughed it off because the idea had seemed absurd. Then she'd found out Jeff Mace wasn't really an Inhuman, and discovered, too, that it'd been the likes of Talbot who'd cooked up that particular plot – the same Brigadier General Talbot who'd accused her of Quaking Mace to death, and accused Coulson and May, and others, of being LMDs. When the dust had finally settled after she and Robbie had taken down AIDA – or Ophelia as she'd begun calling herself once she was out of the Framework and had a real body – she'd decided that she didn't want to be an Agent of a SHIELD that could be party to such a deception. Mace had done his best, poor devil, but he should never have agreed to pretend to be part of a persecuted minority.
She had talked with Coulson, May, Mack, and Elena, and they'd collectively decided that SHIELD was going to go back into the shadows again – and when Coulson, admittedly rather tentatively, had suggested that she become the new Director, she'd agreed – provided he agreed to be Deputy Director. She'd explained that she didn't want to be the sole decision maker and that she felt that he was the best person to assist her in running the new SHIELD since he had the most experience, besides May (and Daisy knew well enough that May would never accept the role), of working for SHIELD, and he had agreed – to her immense relief.
She allows her thoughts to drift away from the state of her body, and the mission she's just successfully, if painfully, completed (rescuing a handful of young Inhumans from the latest iteration of the Watchdogs), and thinks, instead, about how well she and Coulson work together. They've planned ops together in the past, of course, but this is a couple of levels up from that: they're running SHIELD, not merely ops, which means that Daisy's responsible for the safety of every single agent, whether they're deskbound at their new base (they'd converted the Cocoon from a training and assessment space for Inhumans into their base), or out on field missions. Sometimes that responsibility has almost paralysed her, and she's sure that if it wasn't for Phil Coulson having her back, literally and metaphorically, she'd have had to step down.
"Daisy." Coulson's hand on her arm wakes her from the doze she'd slipped into while waiting for him to return.
"God, sorry. I – "
"Daisy, you don't need to apologise for falling asleep. I'm sorry I had to wake you, but I know you need the food to refuel after using your powers extensively."
"Yeah," she agrees, and struggles to sit up so she can eat. He immediately helps, and as he's leaning over her straightening the bedding, an expression of mingled concern and tenderness on his face, she lifts her right hand, cups his cheek, then presses her lips to his.
"Daisy," he murmurs, then kisses her back as softly. "Thank god."
She raises her eyebrows as he pulls back. "'Thank god'?" she repeats.
He smirks. "I've been wanting to kiss you forever," he says, so casually.
She rolls her eyes. "You're impossible."
"Mmm." He's grinning as he picks up the tray of food and sets it across her lap. "Eat your food."
"We're going to continue this conversation afterwards," she tells him.
He chuckles. "Conversation? I've never heard it called that before."
She rolls her eyes again, then grabs one of the triangles of grilled cheese and dunks it into the bowl of soup. "Behave, Philip." She looks up just as she speaks, and sees a flash of something in his eyes, and she finds herself wondering if he'd like her to be stern with him. The idea is surprisingly appealing, but she decides to focus on the food first otherwise she'll collapse soon.
Afterwards though…