Phil Coulson (agentofsass) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2018-02-22 10:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, *kori, *stacey, melinda may, phil coulson |
Melinda didn’t know what the hell was happening, but after the last few hours, she didn’t trust anything. It was like time had stopped… One second she was in a diner, eating, sitting And then she was in space? With a pipe going through her leg? She didn’t know how that happened, but it had hurt like hell. More than that, it pissed her off. No one enjoyed being hobbled, but it was particularly difficult for her to bear. If she wasn’t able to do her job, to protect the team, then what use did she have? It wasn’t long after she freed herself from that damned pipe that she saw the coin. She picked it up- And then she was here. Talking to a hologram (not as weird as it would have one time seemed). As soon as she was alone, May flipped to the directory on the tablet she’d been given, scrolling through the directory and making note of certain names. Bobbi, Daisy, FitzSimmons… She paused for a second, seeing the name “Grant Ward”, but decided to wait and see with that one. It was a common enough name. There was a chance that it wasn’t the one she knew. Melinda paused again at one other name then headed off toward where the directory said his apartment would be. If it really was Phil was in the shower when there was a knock on the door. He would have sworn it was their knock, but that was ludicrous. "Coming!" he called, getting out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist before coming out of his bedroom suite and into the common area to open the door, leaving a trail of wet footprints. "I said I'm coming-" he said as he opened the door. May. All the words fled from his brain as he wrapped his good arm around her and hugged her tight. May returned the embrace, noting that he was not only mostly naked but also wet. The water was evaporating on his skin, drying and cooling it, so she held him just a tiny bit tighter. “I heard you,” she said softly, her eyes closed for just a second. He held her tight, giving her one of his looks before stepping back and motioning for her to come in. “Get in and I’ll throw some clothes on. Can I get you anything? Tea? Something stronger?” He made his way back to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar as he pulled on jeans and a T-shirt before rejoining May in the bedroom to reattach his prosthetic. May nodded and, reluctantly, let Phil pull away to get dressed. She only let her gaze linger on him for a moment as he walked away and moved further into the apartment to shut the door behind her. She winced silently when she put pressure on her injured leg, pressing a hand to it to hold her make-shift bandage in place. It wouldn’t last long and she’d have to get to a medical bay or whatever the equivalent here was, but seeing Phil and making certain he was safe and well was a bigger priority. “Got any Vicodin?” she joked, looking around the apartment. It looked almost exactly like the one she’d been assigned and wasn’t incredibly interesting. Phil raised an eyebrow at her as he came out of the bathroom, tugging the tshirt down with his one hand. "What happened?" he asked, knowing May wouldn't ask for vicodin without reason. He went over to the bureau, reaching for the prosthetic and clicking it into place, flexing the automated features to test it like he always did. His gaze settled on May then, taking in the way she was standing. "Drop your pants and get on the bed." Melinda arched a brow at him, her relief at seeing Phil so great that she was able to ignore the pain she was in, just for a second, while a smile quirked her lips. “I usually demand dinner first,” she said, leaning her weight against the door jamb. “I’ve had worse, Phil.” "We're way past dinner, Melinda," Phil said, giving her a look. "I don't care if you've had worse, you're not full weight bearing so get on the bed before I call Simmons down here." Melinda sighed heavily and leveled a look at him in return. She did as he said, though, and pulled the temporary bandage off her leg before unbuttoning her pants and pushing them down to her knees. She was careful, though, to sit on the edge of his bed so she wouldn’t get blood on it. “When we… arrived. On the spaceship. Apparently I tried to share the same space as a pipe.” "Spaceship?" he asked in confusion as he grabbed a first aid kit from the bathroom and set it on the bed next to her. Kneeling in front of her, he got to work cleaning the wound and bandaging it. "Was this before or after the diner? You know I'm still taking you to medical, they can do a better job than I can unless you really want me to stitch you up in my bedroom." Melinda shot him a look, her brows pulling together in concern. “...After. What’s the last thing you remember?” She knew a trip to medical was coming though. She couldn’t exactly do her job without some sort of medical attention. It would be too hard. "We were about to head to the diner. I just wanted to switch out this arm for the civilian model. Didn't want the feds getting their hands on Fitz's beautiful tech." His hands rested on her thighs. "What happened after that?" Melinda did her best to ignore the warmth of his palms on her skin. It wasn’t the right time for that and they still had things to talk about. So she focused on recounting what she remembered of the last few hours. “Feds grabbed us. All I remember is the lights and the seeing people in kevlar and someone saying your name. Then it felt like I blinked and I was on a spaceship. A rundown spaceship.” "A spaceship?" he asked incredulously, looking up at her as his thumb moved in a circle on her thigh. "Well, I guess after the framework and Ghost Rider, that was the only thing we haven't done yet." “That’s one item I would have been happy to leave unchecked on my bucket list.” There were a lot of things she would have rather not experienced, actually, but those things brought her to where she was, and to who she was, today. “How long have you been here?” "A little over a week," Phil said with a shrug. "FitzSimmons are here - and married. Daisy's here too." And Grant, but he'd wait to tell her about that since that required a bit more sensitivity. And well, figuring out how to keep them apart. Phil moved from the floor to the bed and wrapped his arms around May tightly, hugging her close. "I still owe you a scotch," he whispered. That was just the tip of the iceberg, Melinda thought. She relaxed slightly, slipping her arms around him too. “I saw a few names in the directory,” she said softly. “And I think you owe me more than just a scotch.” The fact that he drank their bottle with someone else- even if he thought it was her- still rankled a little, but she knew Phil Coulson well enough to know he’d make it up to her. He didn't say anything for a moment, content to have her in his arms and resting his head against hers. She was his other half and now that she was here he felt… complete. "A bottle then? Or are demanding something else?" “A bottle is a good place to start,” she said, humor coloring her words. The bottle would certainly make it easier to go over what she wanted next. She thought that pulling away might be the right play at this point, but she couldn’t force herself to do it. “I think we need to have a conversation, too. About what happened before the Framework.” Phil fought the urge to kiss her and pulled back, heading to the kitchenette to grab a bottle of scotch and two glasses. It wasn't Haig, but it would do for now. He poured each of them a generous amount before handing one glass to May and setting the bottle on the nightstand. “Consider this my first payment.” Melinda stood when Phil exited the room and pulled her pants back up. It would be easier to talk if she wasn’t partially dressed. She was easing herself back to the bed when he re-entered and handed her a glass. She swirled the amber liquid around for a moment before taking a deep drink. “Not bad for a down payment.” "You know I'm good for the rest," he said as he sunk onto the bed and took a slow sip. Truth be told, he had no desire to discuss what happened before the framework with the AI version of May. But then that would be telling her the details of the deal with Ghost Rider. Perhaps the lesser of two evils was the better choice. "So last week, folks here were acting like Disney characters… " “I know you are. And I’m going to be calling in that debt.” Melinda sipped her scotch again and waited to see where he was going to go with that comment. Was he trying to tell her that crazy things happened here? Her arrival alone was enough to illustrate that point. So he was probably trying to buy himself some time- or avoid the subject all together. The more she thought about it, the more likely that last reason became. So she sat, silent and sipping, waiting for Phil to talk himself into a corner. ".. it's a good thing you weren't here. If you'd started acting like Cinderella or Elsa, I think I'd be forced to lock you in the bathroom," he commented with a smirk, taking a sip of his scotch. Avoidance for 500, Alex. So avoidance it was. Melinda would let it pass for now. “A princess?” she snorted, one brow arching toward her hairline. “I’d be Mulan.” There was no way she’d be anyone else. “So who were you acting like?” Her money was on Prince Philip. "I came in after it started. Didn't get me at all. Didn't get Daisy either, but apparently Fitz and Simmons were affected. I think I missed most of it while I was catching up with Barton and Romanoff. Had a bit of explaining to do there," he said with a shrug, taking another drink. “Yeah, I imagine you did have a lot of explaining to do.” The phrase was as pointed as the look she gave him. “How did that go?” "Well neither one of them decided to punch me, so I'd consider it a success." Melinda nodded, setting her glass aside. “I’d say so. I wouldn’t want to be punched by either of them.” She’d never faced off against either of them, but she’d heard stories. "True. I'd wager Clint loves me too much to do serious damage. But then again, I wouldn't want to be punched by you either." He smirked at that, having been on the receiving end of her punches too many times. “Yeah, he’d pull his punch if he took a swing at you,” she said, returning the smirk. “I wouldn’t.” But she couldn’t allow the conversation to avoid the things they needed to talk about forever. He’d promised her that conversation. So Melinda sighed, turning on the bed enough to face him while not jostling her leg too much. “Phil… tell me what happened.” Phil moved the glass of scotch to the prosthetic left hand and used his right to pinch the bridge of his nose. Even after all this time, he still wasn't a fan of touch his face with the prosthetic. He sighed heavily. "May…" Melinda squared her shoulders, as if she was preparing for a physical blow. “Coulson.” "What do you want me to say, May?" Coulson said, huffing out a sigh as he got to his feet and began pacing. He didn't want to have this conversation. "It had all your memories, your emotions, everything.. It wasn't like Agent 33 and the photoveil.. It was like you.. Almost perfect until it got a hold of the Darkhold.. We drank Haig, we flirted… I freaking started to fall for it.. I though.. Hell, I thought maybe we'd finally get our chance." He turned to stare out the window, arms crossed and shoulders tense. "But it wasn't real. Or it was. I don't even know anymore. " And there it was. Phil had been reminded of a long ago night when she’d finally said something about the thing between them and had acted on it. With something that was sort of her. Okay, she could understand that awkwardness and the desire to simply forget about it. There were many things in her life that she’d love to ignore or forget, but the man at the window wasn’t one of them. He never could be. Melinda took a deep breath. “I think you do know, Phil. So tell me.” Phil spun on his heel with military precision. "Tell you what, Melinda? Tell you that I couldn't tell the difference between you and a fucking robot?" His face was full of pain and guilt. Because he loved her. Had loved her for years, but the timing had always been wrong. And the mission always came first. And he couldn't even tell it wasn't really her. "Fitz said there was something about a quantum brain, that it was like your consciousness almost.. But it doesn't change the fact that I couldn't tell the difference. Maybe I just wanted it to be true so much. Wanted to believe that you-- I failed you, May." And with that, the tension returned. Shoulders drew back and his jaw was set. "It won't happen again." Melinda could read the guilt as plainly as if he had a flashing sign hanging over his head. The severity of her expression eased as his hardened. So she sighed and stood, moving slowly to stand before him. “You didn’t fail me, Phil,” she said, watching his face intently. “You know as well as I do that the LMDs were designed to pass as human.” And those were things she already knew. They weren’t what she wanted him to tell her, anyway. “You wanted to believe that I what, Phil?” Phil held her gaze for a moment. If she had to ask. "It's nothing," he said, a sad smile of resignation coming over his features as he went to refill both their glasses. Men could be so infuriating. Melinda rolled her eyes, turning in place to watch him. “Bullshit. It’s not nothing.” If bearing weight on her bum leg hadn’t been such a chore, she would have stalked over to him, punched him (in the arm. Probably.), and told him exactly what she thought. She’d just have to make do with the telling part. But that was harder than she thought. “Do you- Do you have any idea how I feel about you, you idiot?” That stopped Phil in his tracks. His hand clutched the bottle of scotch for dear life. Emotion flickered on his face. Hopefulness quickly eclipsed by resignation. "It's alright. You don't have to do this, May. " “Meaning no, you don’t.” Melinda moved then, following through on the idea that she’d follow and punch him. Except maybe not punch right now. A good hard shove should get her point across. “I am here, in the field, for you. Not for SHIELD, not for Fury, not for anyone else. For you. Because I want to be where you are.” She took the bottle of scotch from his hand and drank straight from it before passing it back. It wasn’t the most sanitary thing, but he’d have to deal. “Now… do you have any idea how I feel about you? Do you know what you mean to me? Do you know how far I will go for you?” The words were similar to what her LMD had said. I'm right where I want to be. With you. "No… please…" Phil said quietly, sitting back on the bed and hanging his head in his hands. "Don't do this, May. Please, don't do this if it's all going to fall apart again. I can't go through this again." “You can’t go through what again?” she asked, standing where she was. They were going to talk through this and come to some sort of an agreement before she moved a muscle. They’d skirted around it for too many years to continue. “Phil, if you don’t- If you can’t love me, that’s fine. I’m a big girl and I can take rejection and it won’t change a thing between us, I promise you that. But I need to know where I stand after all that we’ve been through. Because I can’t keep going through this either.” "Take your pick. I can't lose you again. I can't have all this turn out to be fake again. I don't need your pity, Melinda. I don't want it." He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and let out a breath. "May. Melinda. God, I've loved you for years, which is why I can't do this. Can't deal with this just being a trick again." That made her pause. “... Do you think I’m an LMD?” Because that was the only thing she could think of to explain what he’s said. “Do you think I would tell you that I love you out of pity?” "Stranger things have happened," Phil said as he met her eyes with a sad look in his eyes. It didn't matter that Fury had thought him worthy of resurrection, that he'd been director of SHIELD, that he'd stopped the world from ending. In the end, he was still the dorky kid who didn't think he would ever get the girl. Heaven help her, Melinda was in love with an idiot. Had been in love with an idiot for a large portion of her adult life, even through her ill-fated marriage to Andrew and the sad, failed attempt at a resurrection of that relationship. More than that, he was an idiot who didn’t listen to her when he was moping. So she guessed she’d have to show him to prove her point. Suddenly, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt, twisting her hands into the material to ensure a good grip before pulling him up. It put a fair amount of pressure on her leg that she’d likely pay for later, but it was worth it. “You’re an idiot,” she said again, without any heat in the words. The only thing in them was fond affection that carried over into the way she pressed her lips against his. For a moment Phil thought she was going to punch him or throw him into the alternative. Of course, he was fairly certain he was guilty of her accusation. It took a moment before he returned the kiss, arms settling on her hips and pulling her close against him. "Melinda…" he whispered, praying this wasn't a dream or some cruel trick of Atlantis. Her grip on his shirt eased. She smoothed the wrinkles she’d caused out as best she could, but there was only so much she could do with a cotton shirt. “Do you believe I’m me now?” she asked, arching a brow again. “Because if you don't, I can punch you in the face. That’s still an option.” It was a loaded question. Phil still wasn't 100% sure this wasn't going to blow up in his face again, but the the thing was, it was Melinda and it didn't matter. He would fall for her everytime. In every universe. "Shut up and kiss me." There was a soft smile as he leaned in to kiss her, one arm going around her waist to encourage her to lean into him and take some of the weight off her bad leg. Melinda pulled back as Phil leaned in, shaking her head. “I want to know if you believe me first,” she said. Because it was important to her that he did. Whatever this was, wherever they went with this, the one thing she refused to give up was the trust between them. It had been painstakingly rebuilt after the secrets between them came to light and Melinda valued it too much to risk it. Phil pulled back. "You should get that leg looked at. Come on, I'll take you to medical." Melinda did punch him then, in the shoulder, because that was the best way she knew to make her displeasure known. There was no real force behind it, just enough to jostle him a little bit. “What happened to ‘kiss me’?” Phil clutched his shoulder in mock pain. "I'd rather kiss than talk." Not recognizing the LMD had messed with his head. The framework had messed with his head. Ghost Rider had… well, he didn't want to think about that. "Options are kiss or go to medical. Talking is off the table for now." Melinda’s eyes narrowed as she leaned in close. “For now. Not forever.” She was adamant about that. This conversation would be finished and, with any luck, she wouldn’t need to resort to punching him again to get it. "For now," he promised before leaning in to brush his lips against hers. "Come on, I don't want you bleeding out all over my bedroom. People might ask questions." Melinda shrugged but let Phil guide her out of the room. It wouldn’t be the first time she bled all over him. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d bled all over his bed either. And she didn’t particularly care about anyone’s opinion on it. But he was right in that she needed to get it taken care of. |