bakerstreet | You got a friend in me

You got a friend in me

intimacy.

PHYSICAL INTIMACY: it might just be innocent touches or it might be during sex.
LONG CONVERSATIONS: honest words can be more intimate than touch.
DRUNK: perhaps you're oversharing or simply maudlin.
FORCED INTIMACY: magic, a truth serum, whatever — you didn't mean to bare your soul, but that is precisely what you're doing right now.
SLOW-DANCING: there is something inherently intimate about trusting someone else to lead you, and someone trusting you to lead them.
OTHER: intimacy can come in many forms. pick your poison.

[ He's not sure when he started thinking of his team as like a family, can't really pinpoint the moment where he cared about them more than his duties. But he is and he does. Maybe he came back different, maybe dying meant something. Whatever it did, it means now he does join them after a rough mission, lets himself have a human moment or two - albeit later than he should.

The bar is closed but Ward knew the owner and when he steps inside he's quick to shed his coat and take the empty stool beside Skye. The team is split into little groups and she's on her own lost in thought. He watches her for a moment before he speaks. ]

So what's good? [ He isn't really a big drinker. ]

[She's not lost in thought, she knows exactly what she's thinking about. Today's mission was...not good. It was bad. She finally shot a gun, though, efficiently to boot. Ward's proud of her for it even if he doesn't say, and May's looking at her like she knows exactly what Skye's going through right now, and Fitzsimmons are debating between half wary and half reverent. And Skye, Skye just wants a moment of blank thought, one moment of not remembering how much pressure she put on the trigger, how her hand shook with the shot, how she didn't have the breath to say bang this time.

She's not lost in thought. May be lost, however.

But she still jumps a little when Coulson joins her at the bar.] Me? I am, I promise...

[Something about Coulson sometimes makes her want to apologize for blinking the wrong way.]

To drink.

[ His clarification comes easily but he doesn't miss the way she immediately tries to tell him that she's good. He wonders if she means in behavior in emotion, resolves to find out but move slowly and carefully. ]

I've been a little busy dying to learn what the latest cocktail is.

[In everything. She's well on her way to drunk off her tits and this is where the hidden need to just have Coulson on her side rears its head. She's never had someone who wanted to mentor her, who believed in her like he does, who saw her potential for good. It's always just been Skye against the world, and the occasional boyfriend who turnd out to be all talk but not a lot of good action, and this time there's a team. She wants to be good. She wants him to know she is, and he wasn't wrong, and she'll work her way to the top step by agonizingly slow step.

She pulls herself together, and clears her throat.] Well, you've got your serious hardcore drinkers, [she points to May and Ward.] Your precious science geeks with their imported beers, [To Fitzsimmons, currently talking about who knows what precious thing, but the point is: imported beers, the fucking foodies.] And the coolest person you'll ever meet.

[Points to herself, and the red cocktail next to her which is a break from the tequila shots, and is totally a Cosmo.]

I'll have what she's having.

[ That's addressed to the one poor bemused bartender and he sets about making fresh cocktails for the both of them.

Phil shifts towards Skye, not touching her but angling himself so that she can see him and he can watch her face. His gaze is warm but assessing and he waits until the two glasses are set before them and the bartender goes to answer questions from Fitz before he speaks. ] You know you made the right call.

[Not tonight, AC, she can't deal with the warm assessing gazing tonight. If she closes her eyes, she sees the gun going off and the thud as the body hits the floor. If she keeps them open, she sees Coulson in his infinite wisdom and planning and trusting the stupid damn system and getting bit in the ass by it.

She ends up stretching herself over the countertop, her hands hanging over the edge where the bartender stands, though he relocates even before Skye's head falls on the table.]

Could we just talk about something nice tonight? The weather? Lola? How great this shirt looks on me? Anything.

You look good.

[ It comes across as genuine with the quick flick down of his gaze and back. It's not a line, maybe from somebody else it might be. Mostly he's just stating a fact. ]

The bad weather pretty much relegates Lola to the garage. [ A shrug. ]

[She gives him an absent wave, which means 'thank you for your consideration and support' in her semi-sober language, and finally lifts her forehead from the counter and props her chin against her hand.]

We've relegated Lola to the garage an awful long time, I think.

It's one of those jobs. She'll forgive me.

[ He does miss the open road, the purr of her engine. ]

I'm gonna start calling her your lady, if you keep talking about the car like that...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You got a friend in me

some bastardised version of three?

bastardised is how i roll

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