Chapter Text
Skye’s hands snake around your waist and she's laying her head there again, the soft spot between your shoulder and neck.
You think this- this is the last time I let this happen.
But Skye’s found a way to so easily, slip into your life without so much of a warning sign.
“Jem, so you know I totally think your doctor who obsession is absolutely too nerdy for me, but I was thinking, you let me get you addicted to Greys anatomy…so… fine.”
What became their guilty pleasure, not that Jemma would let her know that of course, some of their scientific scenarios and medical saves were just illogical, you knew that.
So why is it you cant prove the way you feel is illogical - its just chemical reactions… right?
“Fine?” You breathe, and wonder how Skye doesn't just feel your anxious nerves on the surface of your skin.
Skye slips her hands away from your waist and turns to stand in front of you as you lean your hands against the holotable.
“I’ll watch it with you, nerd.”
You've never been best pleased whenever anyone calls you that, having grown up always just being that - the nerd.
But when Skye says it, almost dripping with endearment, you cant help but sigh into yourself, the corner of your lips turning upwards ever so slightly.
“In that case, i’m making you start from 9 - God knows you wouldn't be able to sit through doctors 1 all the way to 9.”
She laughs and you feel your heart rate rise.
Its almost that being around this girl causes you physical exertion.
(She’ll never notice the glances you spare in her direction.)
“Alright, you're the boss!”
And she’s gone, a passing tap of her fingertips on your arm.
Its casual, but inwardly it lets off sparks that seem to skip and surge within you; it spreads from your stomach to your fingertips, just itching to reach out and touch her.
Instead, you feel your fingers unclench from the table, you never even realised you were that tense until she left and you could breathe again.
This has to stop. You're being irrational Jemma. One girl, Skye, shouldn't get to you this much.
But she's not just one girl, you feel that deeply - its a feeling you're trying so hard to repress.
Because bloody hell… wouldn't that be the worst disaster - to fall for the one person you know could go out into the field and never come back.
Your mind snaps to Skye in the chamber, lips chapped and tinged blue, still managing to look somehow, unearthly - ethereal you think, might be a more appropriate term. Its almost morbid, she's lying there, peaceful but bleeding, raw and dark red hues spilling out onto the glowing white chamber surface and you still, cant help but realise how beautiful she looks.
Now the wound is gone and no longer gaping, leaving in its place two slightly crescent shaped scars, just slightly raised above the skin and coloured white.
—————
You aren't supposed to feel this way as you both curl up on the sofa, a surprisingly boring day spent doing mundane experiments and Skye hacking video feeds.
You aren't supposed to feel this way as Skye leans into your shoulder, its one of your favourite episodes, but how cliche - you cant even concentrate on one part of it because Skye - damn her- has made herself comfortable, haphazardly laying her arm across your lap.
You think at this moment that you've found what addiction means to you.
Addiction is the way your lungs pound against your bones and threaten to burst.
It’s the way the her touch finds a way to heighten the electrical current in the air.
All scientifically improbable, sure, but you find yourself getting oddly poetic around Skye.
It’s the way that in the reflection of the sides of the tv, you see her lick her lips, and it feels like you're making an effort just to remember how to breathe properly.
Its like she's bloody taken over your mind, a Skye filled foggy haze.
You have to resist giggling to yourself because, what an oxymoron. A girl with the name Skye has found a way to make your wired and perfectly capable brain, so damn foggy and clustered.
Its like a storm cloud has made its way into what was a clear summer’s day.
Theres lightening, thunder and rain so hard it feels as though your heart is rattling against your ribs, begging to beat a faster rhythm, if only you'd let it.
————
Weeks pass and Skye’s touches seem to have become more lingering on your skin and you feels as though every time you send a passing smile each others way, it lasts a little longer than it should. Days when you only see Skye briefly because they're too busy, or theres always another mission or another serum, you don't stop feeling like you're missing an integral part to your day.
You've started a routine now - Skye’s always complained about your disregard for coffee, claiming its ‘the best caffeine-filled pick me up there is’, always a little groggy eyed and husky before she makes a morning cup. You make tea beside her using the stash of earl grey brought from home - not enough to make you miss it, because this is your home now, but enough to bring a little old home comfort into your new one.
You've grown to love the smell of coffee. You've grown to love the way it smells on Skye.
Skye says that a cup of freshly ground coffee is just what it takes to get some people moving in the morning.
But, according to a study, you've told Skye it may be the aroma rather than the coffee itself that does the trick.
You knows it does for you, you just associate it with her now.
Researchers believe that the aroma of roasted coffee beans can soothe frayed nerves - and that just the smell could be enough to reverse the effects of a poor night's sleep on the brain.
You however, could prove that hypothesis wrong. You know damn well how much thoughts of coffee in the morning with Skye keep you awake at night.
How one of those looks into gorgeous brown eyes make your nerves go haywire.
It only takes a quick call into Coulson’s office to destroy every notion you had about taking it slow and testing the waters one longing look at a time.
Because Coulson wants you undercover.
At Hydra.