“God, did it have to be so hot out?” Skye moans, lamenting the summer day, which would be lovely if she wasn’t fully clothed - and by fully clothed, she means fully clothed - leather pants and bulletproof vest included. Hiding behind this barrier, waiting to be joined by their targets and their guards, the sun’s beating down on them directly.
“When I die of heat stroke, I’ll be sure to ask. Besides, your fault.” Grant breathlessly grunts in response, and she really wishes she could manage a harsher glare over at him.
“Can we really not hide on the other side of the building?”
“Only if you’re okay with not being able to see anything, or complete the mission.”
“Fuck you,” she murmurs under her breath.
“You know, one of these days, I’m gonna make you follow through on these threats of yours.”
“And that’s obviously a convincing argument for your morality, isn’t it?”
“Okay, I didn’t mean make as in make, like force, I mean - you know what I mean!”
“I’m pretty sure you do, yeah.”
“Oh, my God, can you two shut up?” comes Fitz’s voice through her earwig, and they both quiet down with a grumble.
“You’ll wanna be on the move,” orders May. “You’re gonna have company pretty damn -”
Gunshots are fired before she even fully finishes her sentence, and they rush out from behind the barrier and fling themselves into action.
Damn, he’s one weak bastard.
With all his training, Grant shouldn’t have to remind himself to pay attention to what he’s doing.
When it’s Skye at his side, he can’t even calculate how much of his attention has to be on appearing as collected as possible, because he’s so fucking not. She’s beautiful, and badass (and to be quite frank, hotter than the ninety-fucking-something-degrees weather) and he’s sweating just as much for that as for the beating sun.
Maybe to his credit, she doesn’t seem to have noticed how hard he is (yet), and he does manage not to fall flat on his face when she shakes the ground beneath them and then literally tosses a couple guys aside. She even gives a breathy grunt of thanks when he stops one of their targets’ bodyguards from taking a shot on her with a hasty bullet to the leg, but he’s all too certain that it won’t be long until jacking off to memories of moments like these won’t be able to suffice.
Not that they really do now, he’s just…still able to handle it. Barely, but he’s hanging on.
He knows he’s blown his shot with her, but God, sometimes he thinks that just another taste of her might hold him till he dies. That’s a lie, of course, unless he dies immediately afterwards (which just might be a possibility, considering, but he really hopes not): he wants all of her. Ever, forever, everywhere, all the time, and it’s insane. Wanting her this much is the most insane he’s ever been - and that includes having been lowkey brainwashed into being a disciple of a dude who thought that Nazis were the good guys. So, yeah, really fucking insane.
And he knows, as she unzips her jacket to give herself a chance to have her vest not pressed so tightly against her chest, and he notices that all she’d put on under it was a thin lavender shirt that would probably hide precious little were it not covered up…that she really isn’t going to let him forget it.
It was honestly kind of unnerving how nervous New Ward seemed to be.
Still kind of a jackass, sure, still smart as hell - still hot as fuck - but a lot of the time, way more on edge than was necessary.
Skye knew it probably came with the territory, with the sorts of experiences he’s had, but there’s a part of her that hopes she’s got something to do with it.
It’s not completely outlandish, right? I mean, not only have we been together, but he’s a man. And specifically, Ward. Let’s be real.
He was looking at her, after all, now that she’d taken her jacket off. Maybe hoping she’d deem the area safe enough to take her vest off, too…or maybe that was just her, convoluting everything by hoping that he was hoping.
In the hypothetical world in which she updates FaceBook, they are definitely still in the “complicated” category.
Then again, he did look both impressed and uncomfortable, which could quite possibly add up to horny, right?
Maybe, just maybe, she’d just have to test that theory.
Grant’s heading to the gym that night, having been unable to sleep, the first time that he sees her after they’ve returned from their mission; and unfortunately, the half hour he and his cock had spent reminiscing about it doesn’t help any when he realizes that not only is she in a shirt that seems to be the same cut and thickness - well, lack thereof - as the one she’d worn earlier, but shorts. Proper fucking not-worn-in-public-after-college short shorts.
Skye’s letting the punching bag really have it, and he’s convinced she’s totally focused until he chides himself out of staring at her longingly and reconsiders his visit. He swivels to walk away and her remark comes practically as a taunt: “leaving so soon?”
He turns back around, and Skye meets his eyes with a teasing look and half a smile, even as she continues punching. She’s pretty damn good at it now - not that he didn’t know that already, having been on the receiving end of quite a few of her punches.
“Wasn’t gonna bother you,” he says, and she laughs a little.
“Little late for that, isn’t it?” she retorts, and stops.
She takes the gloves off and undoes her ponytail, bending down and tossing all of her hair over her head so that she can gather it back up again. And why was that arousing? It defied logic for that to be…exacerbating his little problem. Well, not little but - he wasn’t pleading his case to anyone, it didn’t even fucking matter, dammit. Now if he could just stop thinking about it, well, this would be a different situation, wouldn’t it? Remembering the couple of times he’d had the luck of being the one tying her ponytail for her while she was -
“So, what? You just stop by for the view or do you actually need something?”
Grant hesitates. That answer totally depended on what she would allow him to consider a need.
“Oh, my God, I don’t even wanna know,” she laughs, and he’s a little surprised to hear only amusement, scorn being notably absent from her tone.
Skye cocks her hips, and the change in position - most likely unintentionally - spreads her profile out a bit more, making the strain of her breasts against her shirt even more stark and well, under the circumstances, less pleasant.
He feels the way he fumbles over himself even before it happens; he gulps and foolishly says, “I’m calling to mind to my training and I am going to go back to my bunk,” forgetting until he's said it that he’s already tried to use part of that line to diminish the way he reacted to her in sexually awkward situations. He starts to turn away again, but freezes when he hears her scoff, knowing that she's recalled at least one such occasion.
“Jeez, Hydra really wound you down. Can’t even flirt with me anymore.”
Even now that he knows she’s watching, he can’t keep himself from gulping.
“Stand down, Agent,” he says in the most faux-confident voice that he can, but her smile creases with even more amusement, and as much as he tries to keep up at least a bit of his guard, well, it’s Skye, and once she laughs all his effort is totally in vain and he melts.
Well, there’s one wall starting to come down…now maybe once my heartbeat - no, nope, apparently he’s actually looking back at me now.
Grant meets her eyes, and she cocks her head, trying to make herself seem a little more comfortable than she feels. Maybe he thought she was just teasing him? He wasn’t doing shit, just standing there like an idiot. Maybe that had been too far.
“Well, if you aren’t going anywhere, you should come over here and give me a hand or two.”
“With?” he asks, and she realizes that he had caught her drift…that’s just as nerve-wracking as him being totally oblivious. Great.
She poises herself, and does that little ‘come hither’ thing that May does - without the angry eyes, of course. And he definitely notices that, but he meets her eyes again, like he’s looking for permission, and she doesn’t give herself a chance to second guess herself before she moves. There wasn’t too much distance between them to begin with, so it doesn’t take her more than a moment to be within a foot of him, though she allows that it might take a certain sort of look to be any closer.
It seems like she’s the one who has to make the next move, too, because as Grant - seemingly reflexively, actually - glances down Skye’s profile, he tenses, hands slipping into his back pockets, and she knows why, she knows that’s how he’s avoided touching her and it’s not like that’s explicitly a bad thing but they’re alone now and it’s been a while and he can’t possibly be so much of an idiot not to see that she’s been craving him, too?
She lets her hands go to rest inside of his where they sit at his hips, in the least bold way she can, and she doesn’t dare press herself against him now but she inches a bit closer, tilting her head upwards from her eye level near the top of his chest. Grant does look down at her; he still looks so hesitant, but up close…
“It’s not like you could break me, you know,” Skye whispers, and the huff of warm air that comes down towards her makes her bite her lip.
“It’s not so much you that I’m worried about,” he replies. His voice cracks. “It’s us.”
“You say that like you’ve been giving us a chance, Grant.”
“Skye…” he moans raspily, almost too quiet for her to hear.
Oh, fuck it.
She pushes herself onto her toes and sucks in a breath before clasping his lips in hers; even though his most immediate reaction is to kiss her back with uncharacteristic gentleness, she can feel his entire body go stiff against her, and she realizes that he’s been stiff and holy shit, they’re in deep now.
It’s just a couple of feet back to the wall, and once she’s sure that he’s not standing too sturdily, she shoves him back against it, and he obliges, pulling her entirely taut against him and not even giving her the chance to yank at his belt before he coaxes her arms up above her head and pulls off her sweaty tee shirt.