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It was the way he brought flowers on their first date. Or on any and every special occasion. Anniversaries, birthdays, random Wednesdays when he thought she needed something to cheer her up. It made her smile, that reluctant ‘I can’t believe I’m in love with this dork’ smile that made him smile back even wider.
It was the way he encouraged her to take the leader position for the SHIELD team, without an ounce of thought to himself or what it would mean if they were to be separated by lightyears.
It was the way she thought of no one else she’d rather have as her second in command, her right-hand man to depend upon when the going got tough.
It was the way he made a valiant effort to bond with her sister. Both of them plucked out of time, they had some similar life experiences, but Daisy watched as Daniel made a concerted effort to get to know Kora, even if a lot of it was jokes at her own expense. Both of them taught each other in areas where the other had little or no knowledge or capability. Daniel taught Kora to cook (Daisy wasn’t allowed to learn on the Zephyr, she’d almost set the kitchen on fire to many times and had been relegated to chopping and preparing duties), and Kora taught Daniel to pilot Z3, the way May had taught her at the academy.
It was the way she instinctively trusted him to have her back on missions, and the excellent strategist that SHIELD history told her he was. He was able to look at a mission brief and suggest approaches or methods that wouldn’t have even crossed her mind, but solved or eliminated the issues she foresaw in her own plan.
It was the witty sarcastic comments she made to literally anyone, friend or foe, that made him have to hold back a laugh in serious moments.
It was his dry sense of humour and the way he deadpanned jokes, that made her snort with laughter. In fact, they laughed together a lot. So much so that they got weird looks from the other member of the team on earth or the Z3 crew in space. The original SHIELD team were just happy that Daisy was clearly happy, happier than she had been in a long time.
It was the way that on movie night at the Mackenzie-Rodriguez house, she swore up and down that she was happy to watch a horror movie with everyone, but then spent 90% of the film burying her head in his shoulder and shrieking when there was a jump scare. He couldn’t help but chuckle as his fearless, super-powered, strong, independent girlfriend, was scared of killer clowns. And if she spent the other 10% of time flicking popcorn at Mack and Flint when they weren’t looking, he couldn’t help but laugh at the director’s expressions as he lobbed a throw pillow at her head.
It was the way that when he startled awake from a nightmare, covered in a sheen of cold sweat and his heart racing, she was already awake ready to comfort and hold him until the dreams of being sucked into rifts, or slowly dying in the middle of a wintery battlefield faded. The way she gently carded her hands through his hair and muttered sweet nothings or assurances in his ear until he drifted into an easier sleep.
It was the way that when she had a nightmare and subconsciously sent shockwaves through their bedroom, he would gently wake her up to not scare her. He understood that sometimes she couldn’t go to sleep straight away after a dream like that, so he’d hold her and talk to her about everything and nothing till her heart rate returned to normal. If she was unable to get to sleep after that, he’d press a kiss to her head and leave to make her tea, the kind May had taught him to make. He’d return with tea and a book and read it aloud until she was able to fall asleep peacefully in his arms, her head resting on his chest to feel his heartbeat.
It was the way he woke her up with coffee, brewed the right way, even if he couldn’t believe how much sugar she liked having in it. He had very quickly learnt that Daisy on no coffee in the morning was hit or miss, but Daisy at work having had no coffee was positively catastrophic for anyone who got in her way.
It was the way she brought him coffee in the mid-afternoon, just as his head was beginning to droop into whatever pile of reports he was working his way through, as if she could sense when he needed it. On missions, the adrenaline carried them all through, but when it was paperwork, he had to substitute with caffeine, or he’d be useless. On another note, modern SHIELD coffee was a hell of a lot better than what had been served at the SSR or old SHIELD offices.
It was the way he scooped her off the couch and carried her to bed when she got into their apartment exhausted after work. It was oddly reminiscent of that day in the barn, but it was a lot easier this time thanks to the genius of a Fitzsimmons prosthetic, and the fact that Daisy was not completely unconscious and able to wrap her arms round his neck to help.
It was the way that when he woke up in the healing chamber after a mission gone sideways, the first face he saw was hers, sleeping in a chair beside the pod, her head resting on a cardboard box. And the way her eyes filled with tears when she saw he was alive and awake. Or the flash of anger that crossed her face when she remembers that he sacrificed himself to get her out of danger. It was then that she told him about Lincoln.
It was the way he listened to her talk about her trauma and didn’t try to fix it or justify that she should let it go. He accepted it and supported her in any way he could, helping her to carry the baggage in a way she had never been able to before.
It was the way she listened to his trauma, and the struggles he had fought to overcome after the war. She couldn’t relate to losing a limb, but she listened as he explained the horrific nature of Phantom Limb pain and the helpless feeling that life was never going to be the same again. Although the new prosthetic looked and performed like his actual limb, it didn’t negate the struggle he had being an amputee and she tried to understand it the best she could. She suggested talking to Yo-yo about it, a fellow amputee might be able to relate in a way Daisy knew she never could.
It was the way he sang when he cooked breakfast, mostly to old-timey songs played on the record player Coulson had gifted him. One of Daisy’s favourite activities had become watching him as he bopped around the kitchen, absentmindedly dancing slightly as he tended to something on the stove, only to go slightly red when he saw her watching him.
It was the way she sang in the shower, completely unaware that he could hear her no matter where he was in the apartment. He often found him just listening to her, singing songs he was becoming more familiar with as time went on. Some songs were sung more often than others and he would often find himself humming them when he was doing the filing at work or was thinking about her while washing dishes.
It was the way he made her favourite foods when she was craving them, without her even mentioning them. Coming home to steaming plates of pasta or getting to her desk to see that a brownie from that one specific bakery she liked three blocks over, was waiting for her.
It was the way she teased him about his book collection that was overtaking the apartment but continued to buy him books whenever she passed a book store. Stories he might find interesting or history accounts that he had missed out on.
It was the way he kissed her forehead when he passed her as she was typing, a gentle reminder that he loved her and was there if she needed him.
It was the way she wrapped her blanket around the pair of them when they sat down to binge watch some sitcom that they both loved. (Daniel preferred How I Met Your Mother to Friends, and Daisy teased him about it, but couldn’t get over how much Robyn looked like Maria Hill, and how none of the team had brought it up before).
It was the way that two years after they met, on a walk down the Santa Monica pier during a quick getaway, Daniel got down on one knee and asked Daisy to marry him.
It was the way she threw herself at him instead of answering, nearly knocking the ring out of his hand and taking them both down to the floor. They were in fits of laughter, much to the curiosity of onlookers, as the pair of them attempted to get themselves together long enough for Daniel to get a straight answer out of Daisy.
It was the way he had Fitz help him design the ring so it could cope with her using her powers.
It was the way he happily went along with her ideas to tell the team they were engaged in the weird ways she thought up. May and Coulson already knew, as Daniel being ever the square thought it was only right to ask her parental figures for their blessing before-hand. And Kora had made him confess his plan when found him looking at rings on the internet (he had to get her help, clearing the web search history).
It was the way she asked him to marry her mid-mission with Mack and Yo-yo and he nonchalantly agreed before they ran off in separate directions to take out the enemy, leaving them stood dumbfounded and confused in their wake. Only to bust up laughing when they were confronted about it during debrief.
It was the way he flew them on the Quinjet to Perthshire to surprise the Fitzsimmons family and announce the engagement. Somehow Fitz had managed to keep it from his wife for long enough, and Jemma was almost in tears as she congratulated them.
It was the way her heart swelled when he saw Daniel playing football with Alya and Fitz, as he took the time to chat with the youngest Fitzsimmons about anything and everything. The look Jemma gave her when the biochemist saw her watching them was very telling.
It was the way he would never admit he was sick but was ever so grateful when she took care of him.
It was the way she worried she wasn’t good enough for him, only for him to tell her that he felt he wasn’t good enough for her. Neither of them understood the other side of the argument. They agreed to disagree and carried on looking out for each other, being what others had described as ‘sickeningly in love’.
It was the way his jaw literally dropped when he saw her in her wedding dress and the way she teased him for crying with tears in her own eyes, when she met him at the end of the aisle.
It was the way that he kissed her when they pronounced man and wife, soft but passionate. A familiar warm tingle spreading through both their bodies as they were bound in matrimony, in front of their friends and family.
It was the way she laughed as he spun her around the dance floor in their first dance, before holding her close as they swayed to the music.
It was the way that the best part of his morning was waking up beside her and the best part of her evening was falling asleep in his arms.
It was the routine they developed on their days off that let them both relax for the first time in both of their adult lives.
It was the way they understood each other, the way they communicated silently with full understanding. An unspoken language and the rhythm of their movements.
It was the way they loved each other, as if nothing else in the world would ever come close to the feeling.