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Phil is tired. Phil is tired a lot of the time, actually, because his job is completely fucking exhausting. The first few nights after they found the map- okay, the first day and a half, but sometimes even he has to take a sick day- were amazing, because he just slept, like he hadn't in weeks.
Unfortunately, he's used up all his sick leave for the next year or two, but it was so nice while it lasted.
They've briefed and debriefed and studied footage and looked at surveillance, but there's only so much they can do in one day. Phil dispersed everyone, shooing them away to wherever, and now he's back to his room. He had these designs on sleeping, but he very quickly amends them when he sees that Melinda is already there. He's not tired enough that he objects to finding Melinda in his room; he's not sure he could actually be that tired.
The thing with Melinda is new; things had been leading there for a while, but it didn't seem right until after the writing was gone, didn't seem fair to be with someone who knew they might- probably would- have to kill him one day. Consequently, they've spent the majority of their relationship apart, which is not something Phil likes at all. It is what it is, though; this is a thing he's willing to compromise for, make sacrifices, and he knows she feels the same way.
But goddamn, is he ever glad to see her.
Phil takes his jacket off, laying it over his chair; it's the only thing he does before taking her into his arms. He just holds her for a moment, pulling her close. "I missed you," he says, kissing her. "I hate having to be away."
"We agreed that for the foreseeable future, we had to keep SHIELD leadership separated," she says, stepping away from him, and he knows immediately that something is off. He'd thought it was a sweet thing to say, but that's apparently not how she heard it. "You knew that going in. You agreed to deal with it."
"I did," he says. "I didn't agree to enjoy it."
"You think I do?" she fires back. "You think I don't miss you?"
"I never said you didn't," Phil says slowly. "What is this about? Because this wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind for coming home." He sees that she wants to say something, sees her swallow it down. "Are you pissed at me?"
"Of course I'm not," she says, in the voice that says that she totally is but has no interest in admitting it.
It clicks for him suddenly, what's wrong. It really had been opportunistic, being able to get his tie back. It lined up with what he needed for the mission, so there was no real reason not to do it- other than the ridiculous late-pickup fee that he'd had to pay, but that was his own problem. He wasn't exactly keeping it from Melinda; it's just that it wasn't a conversation that he actually wanted to have with her.
He hadn't imagined it going bad quite this fast, but here they are.
"I take it Skye has a big mouth," he says.
"Can we just drop it?" Melinda asks. "I don't want to talk about it."
"If you're pissed, then I think we do need to talk about it," Phil says.
"Am I supposed to be happy that you used our resources during an active mission to pick up your dry cleaning?" she says. "That's a thing we could have done without."
"That's not what you're angry about," Phil presses.
Melinda sighs angrily. "If you're trying to insinuate that I'm jealous-"
"I'm not trying to insinuate that you're jealous," he says. "I'm pretty sure I just said it."
"What do you want me to say?" Melinda demands. "If you want me to be angry, you're doing a damn good job of getting me there." He's about to protest, but she keeps talking. "And no, I'm not exactly thrilled that you wasted time on a mission to pick up a keepsake from your ex-girlfriend. I was trying not to say anything in the interest of keeping the peace, but apparently you have some burning need to dredge the whole thing up. It's not the kind of thing I have any particular interest in remembering. Maybe if you could just shut up about it, we could move on."
He knows that actually shutting up is the worst thing he can do; this is a thing now, and if they just cover it over, it's going to come back to bite them. But he doesn't know what to say, what he can say that she'll actually hear. He knows she'll fight him if she wants to, and anything he says right now will be fuel. He also knows she can't stand it when she does that, that losing her control is what she really fears.
He knows a lot about her. Sometimes he thinks she doesn't know how much.
He walks over to his dresser, and pulls out the bottom drawer; the fact that she doesn't just leave is a good sign. He has to feel around for a minute to find the bag, but he gets his hand around it and stands up. He unties the drawstring and pulls it open, taking out the leather-wrapped silver flask that's inside.
Phil leans back on the edge of the dresser, looking at the flask for a moment. "Do you recognize this?" he says, holding it up, and she shakes her head. Phil pulls down on the bottom of the flask, turning it, and it comes off in his hand. "Now?"
"Yes," she says, looking a little annoyed by this diversion.
"Do you know what it's from?" he prompts.
"SHIELD used to use them to hide documents," she says, still not getting it. "Paper goes in the bottom. If you hit the switch, the compartment opens, and the liquor destroys the message." Melinda shrugs. "I'm not sure why they were phased out."
"A combination of airport security regulations and agents who believe it's always five o'clock somewhere," he tells her. He puts the bottom back on the flask, closing it again. "The inscription reads, 'My darling Edward, always take me wherever you go. Love, Kathy.'"
She frowns in confusion. "But that was in Glasgow," she says. "That's been-"
"Yeah," Phil says.
"You were supposed to turn that back in to the quartermaster," Melinda says, raising an eyebrow.
"I know," he says. "I had every intention, but I used to be even lazier than I am now." He looks down at the flask. "We got back, and it sat on my dresser for a week. I kept intending to, and it just didn't happen."
"Because we left for Bahrain," she says softly.
"Yeah," he says. "So I kept it. I thought it was the last thing I'd ever get from you. I thought you were gone for good."
She doesn't say anything, and Phil assumes he's gone too far. It's delicate with Melinda; Phil is sentimental to his core, but Melinda's always shied away from it. He's afraid sometimes that he'll push too hard, show too much, and she'll recoil, turn away. He doesn't exactly enjoy it, doesn't like stopping short, but he's learned to account for it.
He's still looking down when he hears footsteps, and he tries not to sigh audibly. While he's running through damage control in his head, a pair of black shoes comes into his line of vision. Melinda puts her fingers under his chin, tilting his head up and kissing him. The kiss is long and sweet, and when they part, she puts her arms around him, holding him close.
For all that he knows her, Melinda still spends ninety percent of her time surprising him; he doesn't know why he keeps thinking she won't.
"I don't want you to get rid of the tie," she says. "But I also don't want you to wear it."
"Then I won't," he promises. "Audrey and I are over, and we have been for a long time." He hesitates, unsure how to explain, unsure if he should. "The past is gone. They don't make it anymore. If we throw it away, we can't get it back. It's like it never happened at all."
She takes the flask out of his hand, running her thumb over the inscription. "This?" she says, holding it up. "There's more where this came from."
He wraps his arms around her. "I was hoping you'd say something like that."
"I really did miss you," Melinda tells him. "I always do." She puts the flask back on the dresser and kisses him again, harder, running her hands up his arms. When she reaches his neck, she starts in on his shirt buttons, undoing them one by one. "Come to bed and let me show you how much."
"See, this is what I had in mind for coming home," he says, skimming his hands up under her shirt, lifting it up and off.
"It's much better," Melinda agrees. She wraps her hand around his wrist, pulling him away. "Now come on."