Work Text:
'cause karma is the thunder
rattling your ground
karma's on your scent like a bounty hunter
karma's gonna track you down
step by step from town to town
sweet like justice, karma is a queen
karma takes all my friends to the summit
karma is the guy on the screen
coming straight home to me
Has he always been this reckless?
It seems like, years and years ago, Melinda was the one making stupid, impulsive decisions that ended up winning the day. Now, bizarrely, it seems as though she’s become the voice of reason between the two of them.
“Phil, you’re going to get killed.”
He laughs softly and rests his hand on her shoulder. The gesture is so natural that Melinda almost doesn’t notice it. Almost.
“I’m a pro at that.”
He’s clearly trying to lighten the mood, but she doesn’t feel reassured. He has a long history of dying; Melinda won’t let him do it again. Her brow furrows. His easy smile doesn’t fade, but it turns a bit more sympathetic as he notices her expression.
“Hey, I’ll be fine,” he says softly.
“You better be. Otherwise, I will find that planet and kill you myself.”
“I’m glad you care so much.”
Using the hand on her shoulder, he pulls her closer, into a hug. She immediately wraps her arms tight around him. Neither of them let go for a long time, and although she’s certain he’s just as aware as she is of the ticking clock, they’re not in a hurry.
Finally, he slowly pulls away, but keeps his hands on her.
And she makes the mistake of realizing she wants more.
She has to tell him. What if he doesn’t come back? What if this is the last time she ever sees him? She’d beat herself up for the rest of her life if she never told him. All those years together, and she never said a word. She doesn’t want it to suddenly be too late.
“Phil, I…”
She stops herself. All of a sudden, she’s lost her nerve. She can’t do it. She has to, but she can’t.
“What is it?”
“I…I can’t tell you.”
He tilts his head in a mix of confusion and concern. She can see the worry in his eyes. It’s almost enough to bring her confidence back, but…no. She won’t do that to him right before he leaves.
“Why not?” he asks. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She sighs deeply, trying to expel all the feelings that had so quickly surged within her. “It’s just…with what happened with Rosalind, and with Andrew…it’s nothing you want to hear.”
Phil winces at the mention of Rosalind, but says nothing. Eventually, he opens his mouth to speak. Melinda doesn’t even know if she wants to hear it. She can’t handle this right now, not on top of him being stupid and reckless.
Suddenly, a voice crackles over comms.
“Coulson. It’s time.”
Saved by the bell.
Melinda looks at Phil, taking in the sight of him for what she desperately hopes isn’t the last time. She wants to say goodbye, wish him luck, anything, but she can’t bring herself to speak again. Not after her near-confession. She settles for a determined nod and meaningful eye contact.
Then, in one swift movement, he presses his lips to hers.
The kiss is over as soon as it starts, just a light peck on the mouth. But Melinda’s heart is going crazy. She stumbles backward in bewilderment. She tries to say something, but all that comes out are strained little gasps. He grins.
“We’ll talk about this when I get back,” he says.
And then he jumps from the plane, into a portal to an unexplored planet halfway across the galaxy. Classic Phil.
The entire team is gathered around the big screen in Phil’s office. Daisy had the idea before the mission to hook up his bodycam to the base so S.H.I.E.L.D. could monitor his progress and watch his back. Melinda has no idea how Daisy managed to connect Phil’s bodycam across several galaxies with only mild lag, but that’s Daisy for you, she supposes.
She thought having the camera footage of him would help her relax. If she can see that he’s alive and moving, she’ll always know if he’s safe. Unfortunately, it’s having the opposite effect. Every time he moves, every time something unexpected happens, Melinda’s heart jumps into her throat and she forgets how to breathe. She’s worried every action will be his last, and she’ll have to watch the feed of his death live on camera. There are so many ways it could happen on that planet…
No. She needs to snap out of it. He’ll be fine. He…he has to be. He’s not allowed to leave her without explaining whatever the hell happened on the quinjet.
The butterflies in her stomach haven’t subsided in the hours since the incident. She’s sure they’re just anxiety. It’s only natural. People that Melinda really cares about are on an alien planet with a known murderer and several of his lackeys. Of course she’s anxious.
But there’s something else there too, beneath the surface. The butterflies aren’t all nerves, and she knows it. Because if they were just nerves, they wouldn’t have intensified tenfold after the quinjet. After Phil…
She needs to stop thinking so much about him. If she continues this line of thought, she’ll end up blushing, and she would rather die heroically in the field than let anyone on the team see her like that.
There’s a sudden movement on the screen, and suddenly, it doesn’t matter whether or not Melinda is blushing. Everyone’s attention is drawn to Phil’s bodycam footage, and it’s instantly obvious what’s about to go down.
Phil and Ward are in a physical showdown. And Melinda knows only one of them will walk out of Maveth alive.
She watches the feed with what she hopes is an unreadable expression. Sure, S.H.I.E.L.D. knows that Phil means something to her, but they have no idea how much. They don’t know that something inside her breaks every time she watches Ward’s fist make contact with Phil’s skin. They don’t know that it takes everything she has not to shout when he goes down. They don’t know that, if she could, she’d gladly take his place right now. Even if it meant never coming home again.
Because then he would. And that would be worth it.
The fight is agonizingly slow, and Melinda has no idea who will come out on top. She’d like to say it’s Phil. She’d really, really like that. But, having gone to the Communications Academy whereas Ward went to Operations, Phil has much less combat training than the other man, no matter how often he sparred with Melinda in the past. Besides, Phil isn’t exactly in the prime of his youth, while Ward…
Well. At any rate, it’s kind of a miracle that Phil isn’t losing spectacularly.
Her jaw clenches as Ward lands a hit to Phil’s gut that makes a particularly nauseating sound. Come on, Phil, fight.
Melinda somehow manages to tear her eyes from the screen. She needs to, otherwise she’s going to go out of her mind watching the man she loves, the man she’s always loved, get beaten up by the most disgustingly wretched asshole she’s ever met. And her eyes meet Daisy’s across the room.
Daisy walks toward Melinda, concern evident on her face. She doesn’t know if the concern is for Phil or for her. Knowing Daisy, it’s probably both, which touches Melinda’s heart. It’s not often she thinks of herself, so it’s nice to know that someone’s looking out for her. Aside from Phil, Daisy is one of the only people to consistently do that.
Still, Melinda wishes she wouldn’t be so damn nosy about her concern.
“You okay?” Daisy murmurs.
“I will be if he is.”
Melinda says it without thinking, but it’s undeniably true. And honest. More honest than she was going for. She’s certain that Daisy will read into that statement. It’s no secret that she’s been trying to get Phil and Melinda together for years. Melinda almost smirks at the sudden trueness of the idea, but manages to school her features by looking at the screen again.
“Yeah. You seem worried.”
“Of course.”
“No, I mean…more worried than you usually get when it comes to Coulson. This isn’t exactly the first time he’s looked death in the face. You’ve handled it before,” Daisy insists.
“And I’m handling it now.”
Daisy shakes her head stubbornly. That girl is perceptive . It’s annoying.
“Did something happen between you two? On the quinjet, maybe? Before he jumped?”
Melinda stills. How the hell did Daisy figure that out? There weren’t cameras in that part of the jet—Melinda checked. Had she been acting differently after the quinjet incident? Anyone else certainly would have been a little strange after being kissed by the person they’ve loved for more than half their life, only to have them dive into a portal to a distant planet. Still, she’s not anyone else. She’s Melinda May, and she knows better than to wear her heart on her sleeve. Daisy may be able to tell when she’s feeling worried, but she has so much practice hiding her feelings for Phil that she knows there’s no way Daisy noticed anything after the quinjet. More likely, she’s just guessing. Very accurately.
“Your silence is always a yes, May. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Melinda says, a little too quickly. “Nothing happened. I’m just worried about him.”
“Nope.”
Daisy shakes her head and turns around. For a brilliant moment, Melinda thinks that she’s going to leave well enough alone and stop asking questions, even though she of all people should know that’s not Daisy’s style. The younger agent steps into the hallway outside Phil’s office and beckons for Melinda to follow. Regrettably, she does. If she and Daisy are going to have this conversation, they might as well do it out of earshot of the rest of the team.
“Something happened, no matter how much you deny it. Did you two have a fight?” Daisy gasps suddenly and lowers her voice conspiratorially, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Did you two kiss?”
“No!” Melinda scoffs. She spots a sudden movement in her peripheral vision. “Hey, something’s happening.”
She and Daisy rush back into the office, eyes glued to the bodycam stream. Melinda can hardly believe what she sees.
Grant Ward is on the ground. Phil is directly above him. Ward is utterly powerless, and Phil is poised to strike. It’s an absolutely perfect moment, and Melinda wants to revel in it forever. In her mind, it’s the perfect end for Ward. Ward, the man who never loved her and whom she never loved, killed by Phil Coulson, the man she loves more than anything. The most vile representation of HYDRA taken out by the most valiant, selfless representation of S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s poetic.
In the split second in which Phil’s metal hand hovers over Ward’s chest, Melinda takes a moment to think.
She thinks about every reason she hates Ward, every awful thing he did to her and the people she loves. Everything—betraying the entire team for his sorry excuse for a mentor, dropping Fitzsimmons into the ocean, sleeping with her to gain her trust, breaking Daisy’s heart with his betrayal—it all comes back to her.
Phil’s hand comes down on Ward’s chest.
There’s a sickening crack.
It’s done.
And at first, all she feels is cold satisfaction.
Then, as Ward lies dead and Phil’s sigh of relief sounds through the speakers, other thoughts float in. One stands out to Melinda: he’s coming home. Phil is going to come back to her. He’s going to get off this hellscape and come back to S.H.I.E.L.D., back into her arms. Because she is definitely going to get him into her arms when he comes home.
She looks at Ward again and can’t help but smile. Maybe she’s horrible for it, but she doesn’t care. Karma’s a bitch, and Grant Ward has just experienced the full force of it in his death. This particular karma comes in a very specific form: that of the man on the screen, behind the bodycam, that’s coming straight home to her.
They’ve been waiting too long.
S.H.I.E.L.D. said that the Maveth crew would be back nearly an hour ago, and there’s still no sign of them. Melinda shouldn’t be so worried, really. The team got confirmation from one of the operatives tasked to bring them home that their boys are alive and well. But the butterflies in her stomach refuse to go away.
Then again, the butterflies may be there for another reason.
Her earpiece crackles. Is this it? Is it happening? Are their agents home?
“This is Agent Brady requesting permission to land. Transporting Agents Fitz and Coulson.”
Melinda sighs.
“Permission granted, Agent Brady. Bring them home.”
Before she knows it, she watches Fitz come out into the room where the team is waiting. Jemma Simmons immediately runs up to embrace him. Melinda smiles, fighting back rare tears.
And then, there he is.
Phil Coulson, looking exhausted and beat up and still so damn handsome.
She doesn’t even think about how crowded the room is when she rushes toward him. She doesn’t care if anyone is watching when she wraps him in her arms, as tight as she possibly can. She just needs him close, so close he’ll never go that far away from her ever again.
“You idiot,” she mumbles, pressing her face into the side of his neck.
“Good to see you, too.” He pulls her tighter against him.
He’s okay. She hears him grunt a little at how tight she’s squeezing him, so medical should probably take a look at his ribs once their greeting ends, but he’s okay. He’s okay and he’s in her arms, and for now, that’s all that matters. Maybe that’s all that ever will matter.
The hug lasts a long time, longer than Melinda’s been held in years. She never wants it to end. She wants her heart beating in tandem with Phil’s for the rest of her life. Also, she’s worried that if he lets go, he’ll do something stupid and reckless again. She wouldn’t put it past him.
But then he pulls away ever so slightly. He keeps her in his arms, but her face is no longer buried in the crook of his neck. Instead, the two of them face each other. They’re so close that Melinda avoids eye contact. She doesn’t know what he’d see in her eyes if they met his.
He pulls one arm from her back and gently touches the side of her face.
“Hey,” he whispers. Slowly, she looks into his eyes.
And then, just like on the quinjet, he kisses her.
It’s a soft kiss, but it’s strong and passionate. Instantly, Melinda finds herself kissing him right back, melting into his body. The hand that was touching her face ends up in her hair, while his other remains wrapped tight around her waist. Her own arms end up wrapped around his neck, pulling his face toward hers. Not that she needs to do that. He seems perfectly content to remain kissing her for a long, long time.
Through her haze of thoughts and passion, Melinda hears a squeal from somewhere in the room. Probably Daisy. She doesn’t care. Sure, the whole team is watching. Let them watch. All she cares about right now is Phil, and his hands on her body, and his lips on hers.
Too soon, though, they break apart. She rests her forehead against his, keeping him as close as she can.
“You came home,” she whispers, awed.
“Of course I did. I love you, Melinda.”
She grins, so wide that Phil starts to smile, too. She has been waiting thirty years to hear him say those words.
“I love you, too.”
This time, she’s the one to initiate the kiss. The team is louder this time around, whooping and hollering and cursing. Melinda thinks she hears the sound of money changing hands. At that, she only kisses Phil deeper.
And even though he’s the last person she wants to think about while she kisses the man she loves, she spares a single thought for Grant Ward:
The son of a bitch had it coming.