Chapter Text
The Zephyr flying overhead felt at once an end and a new beginning; an endless horizon of possibilities before them. Melinda’s hand in his, her head on his shoulder, her presence at his side a much welcome weight as he turned to her, bringing his free hand around her waist as he drew her to him, their hands still entwined at their sides, her cheek on his chest, his chin upon her head.
“You ok?” he felt the rumble of her voice against his chest as the sound of the Zephyr dissipated above them, their team – their family – gone, as she turned her face up to his.
“I am,” he confirmed with a soft nod, a smile more content than she remembered seeing for a long time gracing his features, crinkling the lines at the corner of the eyes she couldn’t quite see through his sunglasses.
Her free hand, held between her chest and his, made its way to his throat, his jaw – that muscle that gave his emotions away every time twitching under her fingers – brushing through the hair at his temple, settling loosely at the nape of his neck.
“Thank you,” he sighed, his head slowly coming into contact with hers, forehead against forehead. He heard the soft exhale more than saw her gentle smile as her hand toyed with the hair at the back of his head.
He didn’t have to clarify. She understood.
Leaning forward, slowly, she pressed her lips to his, the hand at her waist twitching as the one at his neck raked softly through his hair. It wasn’t kissing-under-a-hale-of-bullets-passionate as their first kiss on the Remorath ship had been, and it wasn’t Fitz-just-died life-affirming like their last desperate moment alone in her bunk had been what seemed like an eternity ago. It was lazy, and soft, his lips parting only enough to capture her bottom lip between them, then hers mimicking his movement. The softest, slowest, tenderest, tug of war.
Their sunglasses still on, neither saw the desire in the other’s eyes as the kiss slowed and they each pulled back, but the air had grown thick around them, breaths becoming fractionally faster with each swipe of lips on lips, soft, shallow exhales becoming shorter; faster.
Pulling away as her hand drifted from his head to his cheek, Phil turned to her touch, his lips landing on her palm.
“You said you wanted to take a walk?” May asked, her voice huskier than she’d expected it to be.
“I—“ his voice too, was hoarse, and he took a moment to swallow the tension behind his Adam’s apple. He nodded, an almost sheepish smile tweaking the corner of his mouth as he looked away from her, embarrassed by how obviously his voice betrayed him.
Something in her chest swelled with affection at his embarrassment – how she loved him.
“Yes,” he nodded, her hand still clasped in his as he took a step back from her, the distance giving him enough clarity to think. “We’ll be here a while,” he shrugged, “probably best to get the lay of the land, get some supplies—“
“Recon?” she supplied, amused, it would take them both a while to completely switch off, to accept that this wasn’t a mission, that there were no threats looming behind the palm trees; beneath each upturned fishing boat scattered on the beach.
He offered her a timid shrug in response, his left cheek raising in a half smile, acquiescing the point she hadn’t made out loud, “we also need food,” he offered, almost as a question.
Smirking up at him, Melinda squeezed his hand where their fingers remained laced together, “lead the way,” she gestured with her free hand to the expanse of sand stretching out before them.
And his hand never releasing hers, he did, as they walked in companionable silence towards the small town beyond the palm trees.