#makeouts are mandatory

His heart pounds too hard in his chest as he takes a step backward into his room, silently inviting her to follow. She does, she steps inside the open door, but only enough to close it behind her so there are still several feet between them, and he wishes for the impulsivity of three days ago.

They’re both in pajamas — SHIELD issue sweats with a t-shirt for him, tank top for her — and he can’t help but feel like the lack of clothing makes it paradoxically harder to get close than it was before, when he was fully dressed and she was in her field suit. Like they’re almost too vulnerable.

The memory of her mouth against his seems to take up all the space between them, and he can feel himself blushing as he moves towards her, as he tells himself that she came here to kiss him and really, it’s his turn to take the initiative.

“Hi,” he whispers as he leans in close to her, close enough that his nose brushes against hers, close enough that he can feel her smile.

“Hi,” Daisy answers, and her warm breath over his cheek settles the nerves gnawing at his stomach so that he can turn his head and brush his lips shyly over hers.

She sighs against his mouth and then meets his kiss more enthusiastically than he was anticipating; her lips are soft and her tongue hits the roof of his mouth so that his whole spine tingles.

Coulson runs his hands up her arms, trembling fingers gripping over her smooth skin and strong shoulders, taking her in and stabilizing himself at the same time.

When Daisy pulls back, he’s not ready — not ready to stop kissing her, not ready to take his hands off of her. The needy little moan he lets out is embarrassing, especially when Daisy releases out a quiet giggle and kisses him again — one last meeting of lips, her tongue brushing over his.

“I thought maybe you’d want to eat a late dinner with me.”

Coulson’s eyes pop open, and he can’t even be disappointed at the end of the kiss — instead he smiles widely at the chance to spend time with her.

“You want me to make you something?”

“Hmm,” she agrees. “I’m starving.”

“Did you eat anything while you were gone?”

“Mostly protein bars,” she admits, and Coulson shakes his head as he ushers her out his door. Sure it’s late, but he’s going to make her a feast, he decides.

She’s wedged herself into his lap, between his chest and Lola’s steering wheel, and she hovers just a little so that his head is tilted back into the seat, mouth pointed up to meet hers. It’s intense, the way she kisses him tonight in the dim emergency lights of the garage. Her tongue presses just behind his teeth and her hands pin his shoulders to the seat, so that it feels like she’s having her way with him.

(He likes it too much, the thought of Daisy having her way with him.)

And then she pulls back and locks her eyes to his as she snakes her right hand slowly down his chest between them, scratching lightly down over his stomach to run over the front of his jeans, so he can feel her palm curve around his cock.

She smiles, with her lips and her eyes and something deeper than that, as she touches him like this for the first time. He tugs her down into another kiss, his mouth needy and desperate under hers as he thrusts up against her hand, but he’s not sure about pushing this further, pushing this to where it seems to be going.

“Wait, stop,” he manages, the words muffled between their mouths.

Daisy pulls back instantly, looks startled.

“Was that not okay?”

“No,” he shakes his head, sucks in a shaky breath. “I mean yes.” He slides his hands to grip her hips, silently requesting that she stay where she is, perched over his lap. “It was good, I just…”

He can’t seem to put together the words he wants to say, finds himself too completely drawn in by her.

“Coulson?”

She’s still hovering over him, so he’s looking up at her as she blinks at him, and he can’t quite move his eyes away from her mouth, from the way her lower lip glistens.

Coulson’s throat goes dry at the image, at how much he wants to pull her back against him. It’s completely unfair, when he’s just trying to talk to her.

And then she runs her tongue over it, pink and wet over her lower lip like she’s licking the remnants of him, like she’s savoring the taste of him.

“Daisy, stop,” he groans.

“Stop what?” She asks the question with suddenly-focused eyes, completely innocent because she’s not trying to tease him, it’s just that he wants her desperately all the time, just that this is a day that ends in ‘y,’ just that she’s Daisy.

“Fuck,” he curses softly under his breath, and runs his hand up her back and into her hair, tugs her mouth back down against his. She laughs into the kiss even as she returns it, even as she nips at his lower lip, and then she pulls back.

“Why did you wanna stop?” There are still some nerves in her expression, like she’s worried he’s going to say something bad, and it breaks his heart a little that she doesn’t know how wonderful she is. Because the problem isn’t that he wants to stop, it’s actually pretty much the opposite.

Coulson blinks, struggles to articulate what it is he wanted to say — it’s not helped at all by the way she squeezes her hands against his shoulders, by the way her eyes stray back down to his mouth. It almost sets him off again, to see with his own eyes, to feel on his skin how Daisy wants him.

He swallows.

“I want to take you on a date,” he manages, oddly bashful about saying it, given that he just had his tongue in her mouth.

Daisy looks surprised, he thinks, and something he doesn’t exactly understand, like a momentary flash of fear.

“You want to be...official.”

He nods once.

“I like official.”

Which is true. He has liked this, whatever this is that they’ve had, he’s liked it a lot. A lot. But it’s been something growing somehow separate from their entanglements in SHIELD, and that’s not tenable — he knows himself, and actually he knows her, too. Her and him and them, they’re never going to be something compartmentalized from everything else. There was a time in his life where that made him uncomfortable, but it doesn't so much anymore. At least, not with her.

“I don’t…” Daisy swallows, looks at him with big brown eyes that draw him towards her, that have always drawn him towards her. “I don’t have the best track record with official.”

“Me either,” he acknowledges. It’s a fair point.

“But you still want that?”

“With you.” Because he definitely does.

It makes Daisy smile, slow and sweet, and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. With you.”

“Good.” He smiles, a little too pleased with himself, and he remembers the first girl he asked to go steady back...way too long ago.

“Hi,” she responds, and then her lips connect with the back of his neck, soft at first and then harder, a gentle bite that makes his spine tingle almost as much as her powers did. Coulson groans and finds himself pushed up against a wall, his forehead resting against exposed brick while Daisy’s mouth moves against his skin.

They’re not officially keeping it secret — they’re not officially anything, he supposes — but they’re this, they’re the shiver of pleasure down his back and the hot breath working towards his ear and the way his stomach twists with anticipation.

There’s a final nip at his neck followed by her tongue pressed to his skin, and then she pulls her mouth just far enough away that he can feel cold air rush past his skin as she draws in a breath.

“Okay, I’m good,” she whispers with a little laugh before she steps back away from him.

“You’re good?” He turns around, raises a playful eyebrow at her.

“Hmm. I just saw the back of your neck.”

“You saw the back of my neck and decided you needed to lick it?”

“Yup.” She pokes her tongue past her lip, past a cute little smile that makes his knees weak. “I like your neck.” She smiles widely, a veneer of confidence over an obvious nervousness, but he catches her hand before she can take another step back and tugs her towards him, tugs her until her chest is pressed his.

“I didn’t know you liked my neck.”

He leans in and brushes his lips against hers, so he can feel the shape of her smile.

“You have a nice neck,” she half-defends herself, lips moving against his, and Coulson’s face gets hot at the praise.

To take the attention off of himself, he runs his hands up her arms, thumbs at the edges of the sleeveless top she’s wearing — clearly she’s headed to the gym. Her skin is silky under his palms, and he presses into the soft definition of her muscles and then tugs her shirt collar down, exposing her left shoulder.

“You have nice shoulders,” he murmurs, as he leans down to kiss her there. It makes him nervous; it’s not something he’s done, yet — bared her skin and put his mouth somewhere other than against hers.

Daisy melts into his chest, though, and sighs against every brush of his lips over her skin, so his stomach settles and he can appreciate the smell of her skin, salty under a layer of her lotion. When he nips at her shoulder, she presses him back into the wall and kisses him, hard.

Suddenly things seem more than they have been so far, him hard against her hip, her limp but almost writhing against him, and he wants to push further, to run his hand down her back, under her sweats. He pauses, though, not quite sure of himself, of where they are — practically in public.

Daisy seems to have the same thought, since she pulls back, eyes wide and lips slightly parted and wet.

“We should probably stop.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leans in to press one more kiss to her shoulder, drawing strength from her before he tugs her shirt back up to cover her skin. “You need a partner in the gym?”

“You think you can keep up with me?”

“I’m insulted,” he deadpans, pushes off the wall.

In the moment, standing in front of the jump seats after a mission, he just sucks in a half-gasp of shock, his legs almost vibrating, and then sinks into her — her soft lips and her strong arms and her steady hands that clutch at his shoulders.

She’s not rough, Daisy could never be rough he doesn't think, but she’s forceful, like she feels increasingly sure about it, or at least more sure that he is, since he can’t quite bring himself to touch her. Instead, he just returns her kiss deeply, leans into her, and shivers at the feel of her fingers sliding across his chest.

Every nerve seems to fire, like she's somehow touching his whole body.

“Okay?” She whispers the question almost into his mouth, and his answer is just a moan, overly enthusiastic and desperate-sounding to his own ears, but she smiles against him and slides her tongue along his lower lip. He moans again and unclenches his hands, maybe ready to put them on her, to touch her.

“Daisy?” Ms. Rodriguez’s voice calls out from the hanger, and Daisy pulls back, looks at him with dark eyes and wet lips, and he’d give most anything to ignore Elena and go back to what they’d been doing.

“Later,” she tells him, sounding just as breathless as he is, and all he can manage is a nod as Daisy pulls back, heads towards her friend.

Coulson, though, Coulson falls backwards into a jump seat and sucks deep, slow breaths, trying to calm his hammering heart.