Who: Agents Coulson and Hill. What: Pheels. Where: Their house. When: Friday night. Rating: TBD. Status: In progress!
Maria Hill was good at a lot of things. Granted, most of those things involved work: shooting people, running the helicarrier, keeping Fury in check, a large secret organization... that sort of thing. They were good things. Familiar things. They were managed logically and in an orderly fashion, nice and neat, and there wasn't anything messy to compromise her. It kept her at a distance. Kept her safe.
What she was not good at, however, was feelings, particularly when it came to a certain coworker of hers. This stupid musical interlude had caused her to say some things she'd kept deeply hidden and had hoped to forget about all together. When she was younger, any feelings of attachment were usually destroyed by her resentful father. It'd been painful at the time but she'd built up armor. In a moment of weakness, she'd let that armor drop. Now it was getting more difficult to put it back up.
Which was why she was currently sitting in the dark, on the couch, still dressed in her work uniform. Her hands were wringing nervously in her lap as she waited what felt like forever for Phil to get home. She'd already lost him once, and she wasn't sure that she could do it again. But they needed to at least talk about it. She owed him that much.