“Blatant dislike can turn into blatant attraction. Do you not know how a love-hate relationship works? I should teach. I’m working on one, actually. I’ll personally mail you a copy when they come out. Can’t have my number one fan going without. Oh please, Fitz can take care of himself. Stop being a guard dog. It’s not a good look on you.”
“Has your writing career also extended into songwriting, and, if so, did you have something to do with that Robin Thicke hit? What was it called again, ‘No means yes’? I know he can, but it’s in my best interest to make sure he knows how to get rid of a body after he’s taken care of himself. Can’t have it strung to a tree like a virgin sacrifice, now can we, Jonathan?”
“Oh boy, Skye, you’re playing right into my erotic humiliation fantasy. Who knew that a little bit of death would make you like this? I’m almost grateful there was a death but we both know I have eyes for someone else, so as much as I would love the hate sex we could have, I’m going to have to turn you down. Maybe you could find a substitute though, like a vibrator.”
“It’s really cute how I literally just talked about shooting you and you still think my blatant dislike towards you is foreplay. Write a self-help book, I’d love to read it. Oh, and while we’re on the topic, if Fitz as much as frowns because of you, I’m gonna teach him how to hide a dead body.”
“I don’t care. Your threats just turn me on, actually. Wow, because being insulting towards me just shows that you’re a better person. Let’s face it, Skye, you think you’re the bigger person by calling me out but really, you’re just lowering yourself to my level. Welcome to the pit.”
“What, like it’s hard to be a bigger person than you? Leave the psych report to a professional, babe. I’m not claiming to be. I’m simply lowering myself to your level because it’s taking an edge off both of us. You do that entire thing where you get disgustingly turned on by being degraded, and you know I get off on winning arguments against you.”
“So… a dead body shows up on campus and suddenly everything stops? Alright. Cool. Won’t trust you guys if we go to war.”
“I’d love to shoot you and get things going again, but I think one murder is enough. Because, you know, I’m empathetic. Whereas you’re just the other half of the word.”
“Yikes Skye, could you be any more boring? If I’m not your last choice then why come to me at all? It’s almost like you want to antagonize me - or yourself, because I really don’t give a shit. Go find the password yourself. You’re a professor now, you can’t rely on everyone else to do things for you.”
“And yet you followed me out of that class. Why’s that? Were you expecting to talk about Fitz? Get me angrier? Find a better foreplay move, babe. This isn’t really working for me.” She stepped closer to him, “Or are you afraid of what I’ll find?” Skye asked, using the uncomfortable proximity to straighten out his collar. “You could’ve cooperated, colleague and all, but I guess we’ll know why you didn’t soon enough.”
“Yikes.” he muttered under his breath before saying a quick apology to his class. Getting up, he moved across to her and out of the room, shutting the door behind them so no one heard what was about to happen. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “If it’s about what happened the other day then don’t worry about it, I’ve sorted everything out with Fitz. You can go back to your kennel now.”
“Stop talking,” was all she said, continuing in brief sentences, still. Somehow, the parts of his speech he emphasized were turned from normal words to slurs, and she couldn’t let him ruin the entire dictionary. “Classified data gets lost when the database runs updates, either by accident, or, if you’ve been responsible so far, incompetence. The old versions are archived, so the data can be recovered if I run manual simulations. I need the password to the archive. Before you open your mouth to say anything, you’re not even my last choice. You’re in negatives. But, I can’t be bothered hacking into it, so I’m taking the path of least resistance.”
“You know when you say to yourself Hey, why don’t you take a sip of that vodka and then the sip turns into a whole bottle and then you find yourself regretting a lot of things? Yeah same. Don’t drink alcohol kids.”
Skye pushed herself off the doorframe she was leaning on, inconspicuously observing as Jonathan gave a lecture unlike anything he had in his curriculum. “You know when you say to yourself ‘Hey, why don’t you go check on a fellow colleague and realise he’s turned this class into an AA meeting for one’? Yeah, same. Jonathan, a word?” she finally spoke up, nodding to the hallway. “Maybe a sentence. We’ll see how it goes.”
Fitz barely noticed the noise of someone nearby, he was too involved with his confusion and the kiss and just everything, hell he was still in tears actively–he literally was still crying–but when it registered that there was someone, Jonathan reacted first, pulling quickly away and wiping his mouth, a fucking rude gesture honestly. Fitz swallowed heavily and blinked, turning to see who had caught them and–well shit, it was Skye. He bit his lip guiltily, glancing down at the floor when Jonathan called Skye his girlfriend, he kept doing that honestly, and all Fitz could do was shake his head. “She’s, ehm… she’s not my girlfriend.” His voice was a mumble and he raised his arm to dry his eyes. He didn’t address Skye, he couldn’t even look at Skye, honestly. He felt ashamed, responsible for everything wrong that was happening.
Her expression darkened at Fitz’s reaction, and suddenly the probably pointless and slightly vile things Jonathan was saying became a white noise. She shot him a dirty look indicating she needed him gone immediately, reaching to rest her hand on the engineer’s arm. Was it consoling? She hoped so. “You, fuck off,” she turned to Jonathan again in case he didn’t get the hint, giving him a dismissive wave of hand. “I don’t feel like dealing with you today.”
Out of all the responses to get from Jonathan, Fitz honest to god had not expected THIS. He expected that the professor would just watch him leave, probably, or maybe come out to insult him a bit more, but… more kissing?? It wouldn’t be a lie to say Fitz was slightly excited by the kiss, his chest was warm and his skin tingled despite himself and he didn’t know what to DO, he wanted to pull back and tell him off again, but. Well. He hunched his shoulders a little and ended up kissing him back in confusion. He was overwhelmed and stressed and he had NO clue how he should react to this.
Skye was hearing voices. She had her music on full volume while she rummaged through her desk drawer, and she still heard voices. Removing one earbud with a sigh and stopping in her tracks so that the rustle of the papers she was going through wouldn’t interfere, the most easily distinguishable accent in the entire building reached her almost immediately, and, sliding the drawer shut with a heavy sigh, she went to confirm the commotion was exactly what she’d thought it was. Spoiler alert; it was. One difference, though - she didn’t catch them in the gruesome murder scene she expected.
She couldn’t stop herself before a silent and thoroughly horrified “what the fuck?” escaped, and while it was inaudible enough not to catch their attention, her next step certainly would be. She tiptoed to where they were blaspheming (Jonathan conveniently not facing her) and cleared her throat, arms already crossed over her chest.
Johnny: Ah, so that's what this is about. Johnny: It's really not that big of a deal, I don't even care about him, all he was was something warm to lean on while I waited for a better option to show face. Johnny: You can put your claws away now. skye: do you really think you can get a better option than him? you? that's both hilarious and sad. skye: have someone check you for a concussion tomorrow and maybe have some blood taken. (: skye: fuck you, good night, convert to catholicism and start praying I don't run into you.
