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“Hey,” Daisy said, looking up from the folder in her hands. “What’s up?”
Coulson walked into her office, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Have you heard of Serafina?”
Daisy sat on the edge of the desk and put her folder down, racking her brain. “Restaurant, right?” Fancy restaurant, if she recalled correctly. Popular amongst the politicians when it came to entertaining and schmoozing.
She had yet to receive her invite, but Daisy wasn’t sweating it. Down the line someone was going to want to kiss her ass, she wasn’t exactly on the edge of her seat waiting for that inevitable moment.
“How hard do you think it would be for you to get a reservation?”
Daisy looked at Coulson oddly. “That depends, when do you need one?” Were they supposed to be kissing someone’s ass? She wasn’t aware.“And who will you be wining and dining?” And bribing and/or blackmailing? She kind of let Coulson roam free when it came to this stuff, he had a good sense of when to get involved and when to stay out of it.
“Tonight,” Coulson answered, leaning back against the door. “And you, if you’re up for it.”
Daisy blinked. “Uhhh,” she said, eloquently, then shook her head. One thing at a time or you’ll overload. “You want a reservation at one of the nicest places in town for tonight? Tonight, not like, two weeks from now, or a month.”
Coulson raised an eyebrow. “Yes, tonight. That part is kind of important. And I did ask how hard it would be for you to get a reservation,” he said, in that flatter-y voice that was reading kind of flirty, if she wasn’t mistaken. There was a lot to process. “I thought that might fall under your particular skill set.”
Walking around to sit at her desk, Daisy tried to figure out what exactly was going on. “Yeah, I mean I could probably manage something,” she said, pretending to shuffle some papers before looking up at him. “Is there a special occasion, or…?”
Coulson shrugged, with that infuriatingly relaxed smile on his face. “Not sure yet, I'm hoping we’ll find out. Let me know when you can get us in, try to aim for something around 7:30?”
Daisy nodded blankly.
“Great,” Coulson said, before waltzing out the door like he hadn’t just kind of blown her mind. There had to be something else going on, right? There’s no way…
Sure, they’d been spending more time together lately and they were always close but this seemed like an odd first step, if that’s what it even was. Catching a glimpse of herself in the reflection of her darkened monitor, she scowled. Blushing, really?
Sue her, she was a romantic, okay? And as cheesy as this had the potential to be, getting the opportunity to dress up and go out for a fancy dinner with Coulson? Coulson and his suits and his nice smile and his weirdly old-fashioned (okay, not so weird on him) gestures? Like, he would probably pull out her chair for her, wouldn’t he?
(Yes, she had wondered about this and no, she hadn’t told anyone, thanks for asking.)
Screw it, Daisy was kind of excited. Even if it was just friendly, everyone else clearly had plans, and it would be nice for the two of them to spend some time together, one on one.
One on one. At a really nice restaurant. On Valentine’s Day.
Daisy did a happy little shoulder shake. She should probably get started on that reservation, now that she thought about it.
He did pull her chair out for her, even politely waving off the waiter who moved to do it first. Same for taking her coat, which, the sooner the better really. While Daisy had invested in a couple nice wardrobe additions for political events, a warm coat hadn’t exactly been on that list. So although her dress fit in just fine with the rest of the crowd, her battered winter jacket? Not so much. Coulson didn’t seem to care, of course.
It wasn’t like Daisy had never been on a date before, even nice ones, but there was something about going on a date with her former boss/mentor/friend that was kind of weirdly thrilling. She wasn’t sure where she stood with him sometimes, and after all the drama of the last year, something like this was pretty much exactly what she needed.
“You look nice,” he said pleasantly after sitting down across from her.
“Thanks,” Daisy answered, stopping herself before she went so far as to play with her hair. Honestly, what was it about candlelight that made everything feel super romantic? This was literally how everything used to be lit, right? No wonder people used to have so many kids. Daisy cleared her throat. “New suit?”
Coulson gave her a friendly smile, then scanned the room around them. Typical spy instinct, Daisy thought, smiling fondly. Basically everything he did tonight was cute to her suddenly, even things he’d been doing forever. It was weird, but also really welcome. After all, was there anyone she knew better than Coulson? That little resigned sigh when he knew she was right, the way he pursed his lips-- too early to think about his lips, tiger -- when he was thinking deeply, that little furrow in his brow when he was looking for something.
“So, why here?” Daisy asked, having saved the obvious question until now. Asking why, exactly, Coulson wanted to take her to this restaurant could result in a Serious Discussion, and Daisy had debated all day when she should broach the topic, if she was ready for that conversation.
But now that they’d done all the rituals and he’d yet to say anything…
“What?”
Hold on. Daisy leaned forward a little bit, watching him closely. He was still looking around the room between glances at the menu, that telltale little furrow in his brow.
Daisy cleared her throat, plastering what she hoped was a natural smile on her face. “What are we looking for tonight, Agent?” She asked quietly, looking at the menu so she didn’t have to look him in the eye. She felt Coulson glance over in her direction so she straightened her shoulders.
Everything was totally fine and normal.
Coulson went off on some explanation about a congressman possibly taking bribes, and Daisy tried to absorb as much relevant information as possible while she did her best not to shrink into a tiny little embarrassed ball. Of course it was a mission. Why he didn’t bother to mention that, she wasn’t sure, but why would the first thing she assumed when he literally asked her to hack her way to a last minute reservation at a known political hot spot be a date?
On Valentine’s Day.
Okay, this was on him, right? She'd given him plenty of opportunity to explain what it was. But apparently he felt no need to explain.
Because this would never happen.
Daisy tried to compose herself, that way they could just get through this dinner--mission--no harm no foul. He never needed to know.
But she should have known better than that. She knew Coulson and he knew her, so it was only a matter of time before he went quiet, clearly noticing something was amiss.
“What are you ordering?” Daisy asked, cheerful. But the damage was done. Coulson and his furrowed brows and his slightly pursed lips were looking around the restaurant again. This time he wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Probably taking in the newly relevant details: no political gab sessions tonight, just couples, many with visible gifts of flowers or jewelry boxes resting on the table. An unusual amount of tasteful red accents in addition to the regular ambiance.
Aaaand there it is, Daisy thought, watching as his face went totally blank. She opened her menu, silently pleading that he let it pass, just let it pass, they didn’t need to make this any more awkward than it had to be.
Across from her, Coulson cleared his throat. She winced.
“You really do look nice,” he said weakly, and Daisy couldn’t help but snort. It was a simple misunderstanding, but of course he was going to try to make it up to her. Finally looking up, she saw Coulson frowning at her. He looked kind of offended, which, okay did he really get to pull that right now?
He looked like he was about to say something, but a waiter approached and Coulson got this thoughtful look before grabbing the wine list and pointing to something Daisy couldn’t see. Watching the waiter go, she raised an eyebrow.
“Should we be drinking on the job?”
Coulson picked up his dinner menu coolly, opening it and looking through the options. “We’re not on the job.”
... What now?
“Coulson, you just--”
“What are you going to get?” He asked, just plowing right through. “These starters all look great, we should order a couple of those.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Coulson, we don’t have to--”
“How do you feel about ricotta? You can just smear it on bread here, it’s pretty amazing,” he carried on, clearly not open to acknowledging his---her? Error.
Resigned to play along, Daisy sighed. “Sure, that sounds good.” The waiter returned with a bottle of wine, and Daisy was almost tempted to look at the wine list and see how much that had set them back. If this was some sort of elaborate apology for the misunderstanding, she supposed she could accept it. Besides, Coulson seemed to be enjoying himself as well, taking the proffered glass to taste the wine (what, did people normally send it back?) and declaring it excellent and ordering some appetizers while they were each poured a glass.
Was this Coulson in his element? She’d seen him on the field, in the director’s chair, even lounging in the common room, but this was a new side to him. The novelty was fun, but she was undecided about the overall effect.
Raising her glass of wine (red, that’s all she knew/cared to know about it) to her lips Daisy caught Coulson staring at her. He looked kind of disapproving, but mostly amused, holding his glass up to her like an ignored high-five. Awkwardly Daisy clinked hers against it, relieved he just smiled and didn’t try to make some sort of cheesy toast or something.
Speaking of cheesy toast…
“What are you getting?” Daisy asked, after taking a sip of wine. Coulson shrugged, sipping from his own glass and scanning the menu.
“I don’t usually get seafood but the options here look good,” he said. “You?”
Daisy grimaced. “Well, all of this is in Italian and this is a nice joint so I’m pretty sure none of the words I know are on the menu.”
Coulson looked confused, then scandalized and Daisy smiled. This, she was comfortable with.
“Dare I even ask?” Coulson said, raising an eyebrow. Daisy picked up her wineglass and considered him thoughtfully.
“I don’t know, Phil,” she said, swirling the wine in a way she knew was over the top dramatic and probably like, bad for the wine or something. “I’m not sure that conversation is mission appropriate.”
Maybe it was playing with fire, bringing the misunderstanding up again. But even if things were getting more friendly and comfortable, it wasn’t exactly easy to forget how she felt when she realized what was going on. Or, well, wasn’t going on. And maybe she was just feeling insecure, but part of her needed him to come through, to be her friend, and to tell her again.
Reaching across the table, surprisingly confident, he put his hand over hers. Looking at her with such direct eye contact it would be unnerving coming from anyone else, Coulson gave a small shake of his head.
“No mission.”
Daisy nodded, smiling slightly when Coulson gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. “Okay then,” she said, “help me choose a fancy dinner, then prepare to be shocked.”
“Looking forward to it,” Coulson said, eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “First things first.” Grabbing the bottle of wine, he refilled her glass, then his own. “I have a feeling I might need this.”
“Good decision,” Daisy said, throwing in a wink so casually she impressed herself. Luckily, Coulson caught himself before his glass overflowed.
“So,” Daisy said, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. They were both a little buzzed--that much wine will do that to people-- so Coulson had suggested a walk around the block.
“So,” he repeated, stopping as Daisy leaned back against the wall of an apartment building they had been walking past. He had this smile on his face Daisy liked, like he knew exactly what she was going to say.
“You had no idea it was Valentine’s Day.”
Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that, as the confident smile all but dropped off his face.
“Of course I did,” he bluffed, and Daisy had to laugh.
“Phil, you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t,” he sighed, leaning one hand against the wall and kicking the bricks lightly. Daisy laughed again, and Coulson smiled, strained.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she reassured him, patting him on the chest. “You made up for it surprisingly well, given the circumstances.” She would thank him, but Daisy felt like he might not like that. Her thanking him for fixing a mistake he technically made. “Seriously, it was probably the best not-date date I’ve ever had.” She was fishing, she knew it, hell he probably knew it.
Instead of calling her out, Coulson leaned back against the wall next to her. “Well, you seemed to be having a nice time before I ruined everything,” he told her. “It was the least I could do. Besides…” He trailed off, like he wasn’t sure where he had been going with that. Or if he was second-guessing where he had been going with that.
“Yeah?” Daisy encouraged, not wanting to push but yeah, kind of to push. This whole talking and being open thing was going really well and she would really like to keep that going. Plus it had to be pretty clear by now that she had been totally game for a romantic date night with him from the beginning, so what did she have to lose, really?
Coulson shrugged. “You were having a good time,” he repeated. “So I thought maybe that made it okay for me to do the same.”
“I think you thought correctly,” Daisy told him conspiratorially. She elbowed him in the side, friendly, and he smiled at her.
“I’m not usually this forward,” Coulson said, looking a little bashful. “Dinner on Valentine’s Day?” He looked at Daisy questioningly, as if wondering if he could have possibly, actually done that. Daisy nodded, and he shook his head, still smiling but a little baffled. “Jeez. I guess it’s easier when you do it without realizing.”
Pushing off the wall, Daisy turned and faced him.“Let’s keep this up then. Making mistakes then pretending you meant to be smooth.” Coulson rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I can pretend to brush lint off your jacket and end up with my arm around you, you can ask me to get a drink, accidentally take me to a bar in a hotel.” Feeling playful, Daisy tugged hard at the lapels of his coat.
Whether it was his surprise or her arm strength, Coulson let himself get pulled in close, closer than Daisy had been expecting.
“Um,” Daisy muttered, noticing how wide (and blue and right there his eyes were,) “I was kidding. That was a joke. About the hotel thing.” She let go of the fabric of his coat, deciding at the last second to smooth it down once before dropping her arms.
Coulson, who had been rather still since her friendly suggestion, stepped even closer.
“Was it?”
Feeling his chest pressed against hers, his breath on her face, Daisy hesitated. “You know, I’m not sure?” Her voice was low, practically a whisper, as if saying it that way would somehow keep it from reaching Coulson’s ears.
She wasn’t sure who kissed whom first (her hands tightly gripping his jacket again gave her a hint) but suddenly his lips were on hers and she was pushing him back against the brick wall, which he hit with a soft thud.
Daisy easily predicted that Coulson would do the whole gentleman routine at the restaurant, and even guessed which tie he would wear, but she was ashamed to realize she had zero idea he would be such a great kisser. Sure, she had been a little preoccupied with his mouth at times, but she always stopped herself before getting too carried away.
It was so him, though. Such an odd mix of tentative and confident, like he was arguing with himself about whether to hold back or let go. His hands would grip at her hip or her neck briefly, before releasing and simply resting against her. He would kiss her deeply--okay, did anyone know Coulson would be such a tongue guy?--but back off and press his lips somewhere safer like the edge of her mouth, as if he was reminding himself to settle down.
All in all it was kind of confusingly hot. Like that time she saw him walking around the kitchen in ratty sweatpants.
“You’re thinking a lot,” he said against her ear, and Daisy fought the urge to tilt her head and encourage more exploration in that area.
“Kind of a lot to think about,” she answered, embarrassingly frazzled. She was the one who thought this was a date from the beginning, it was frankly unfair that he got to be the cool one.
Directly above them a window filled with light, and the two trained agents exchanged a look. They should probably wrap this up, or at least change locations, lest the occupants of that apartment not be super open to people making out against their house.
Placing an encouraging hand on the small of her back, Coulson led her away quickly, falling into step behind another couple walking down the sidewalk.
“So what’s next,” he asked. “Do you want to get a drink?” The innuendo was there, but only partly. Despite the proficient kissing, he seemed to be more inclined to let Daisy steer the direction of the date. Was she ready to take that step with him? Literally get a room?
Part of her was pretty insistent: yes, hell yes, what are you doing say yes, please!
But also, why rush? Unless this was a one-time opportunity, and she was guessing it was not, there would be other chances. Hopefully soon. But for now?
“Well,” Daisy sighed, looping an arm through is. “You didn’t get me dessert at that restaurant--”
“Everything had gold leaf on it and you refused,” he argued. That was true.
“Well regardless, I’m pretty sure if we’re following tradition you owe me chocolate. How about some humble ice cream?” Daisy asked, looking at Coulson curiously. Would he be put off by her backing down a little bit? She didn’t think so, but also he didn’t know this was a date to begin with so maybe they weren’t the best at reading each other lately.
“Sounds perfect,” he said, sounding like he meant it. Daisy grinned, squeezing his arm tighter.
“And I mean,” she added, leaning her head against his shoulder, “if we accidentally choose a place next to a secluded park with some primo makeout benches...so be it, you know?”
“I think we can adapt,” Coulson agreed. He was quiet for a bit, then Daisy felt him press a kiss to the side of her head. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Shit, it’s Valentine’s Day?”
“Okay, that’s enough.”