A/N: Unlike some of my other pieces, this is NOT an established-relationship piece - just so there's no confusion. ;) It's set some time in the future after Bobbi breaks Hunter's heart and moves on to other things...

"Skye and Hunter, you're up."

Mack opened the back door of the limo, and Skye slipped out, followed closely by Hunter, who placed a familiar hand on the small of her back. When she bristled at the contact, he bumped her gently. "It's our cover," he murmured, smiling graciously at the other partygoers as they entered the building.

Skye relaxed. True enough.

They checked Hunter's jacket and Skye's shrug and followed the crowd into the ballroom, which was luxuriously arrayed in silk and white lights, ethereal and lush in its presentation. This was quite the soirée they were infiltrating.

Coulson's voice came over their comms. "No rush. Just blend in until you locate your target."

Hunter's eyes met Skye's. She arched a questioning eyebrow, mouthing, "Blend in?"

He steered her gently toward the dance floor, where couples were twirling to a waltz, and turned to her. "Shall we?" he inquired with affected politeness. She blinked and nodded. Hunter smirked and swept her into the dance.

Skye had to remember to close her mouth, which had dropped open.

"What?" he scoffed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Her eyes were wide. "You can dance."

"As can you," he observed mildly, nodding toward her feet.

Skye cleared her throat, settling into the rhythm of the waltz. "May's been teaching me," she explained. "Mostly I practice with Coulson."

Hunter's mouth twitched in an ironic smile.

"Shut up," Skye grumbled.

The music ended, and another piece began - this time, a big-band-style rhythm that was unfamiliar. Skye hesitated as Hunter motioned for them to continue. "I - I don't know this one."

"It's the foxtrot. Come on. I'll show you." He made a face at her skeptical look. "It's not hard."

He led her off to the edge of the floor and subtly walked her through the basics of the steps, guiding her with a hand on her waist, so that it looked as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Skye couldn't contain her wry grin.

"What?" he asked testily.

Her eyes were mischievous. "I just never had you pegged as the kind of guy who's into ballroom dancing."

He rolled his eyes. "What do you think I've been doing for the last ten years?" he complained. "I was running covert ops while you were still in high school."

"Yeah, well, I dropped out of high school, so I doubt that," Skye shot back, feeling ruffled.

Hunter was silenced for a moment, looking at her with surprise.

"You've got one hell of a skill set for someone who dropped out of high school," he observed, almost with admiration.

Skye grinned. "I'm a fast learner," she replied smugly. She indicated her feet, which were keeping perfect time with his.

He grinned back. She'd won that round.

Honestly, Skye found, it wasn't unpleasant swirling around the dance floor with Hunter. It was actually kind of enjoyable. He was a competent and courteous dance partner, more skillful than Coulson. And - not that a tux ever did a disservice to any man - he really did clean up nicely. She had to admit that he was pretty easy on the eyes. That, combined with the confident charm he exuded, had more than one woman eyeing her enviously.

If she didn't know him better, she might just be swept off her feet.

Which was probably why they always chose him for missions like this.

The song changed again to something slow, and Skye leaned in closer to murmur quietly into Hunter's ear. "I see our target. Your five o'clock."

"Thank you," he replied in a businesslike tone. He twirled her out, then back in, and Skye couldn't resist a little grin.

They danced the rest of the song and then parted ways, Hunter slipping over to the bar next to a gaudily attired heiress by the name of Penelope.

"Have we ever met?" Skye heard him in her ear, oozing charm. "I'm sure we haven't. I'd remember you."

Skye heard the heiress laugh giddily, and she rolled her eyes. Conquest number 375,832 for Lance Hunter. All the man had to do was wear a tux and open his mouth.

"Wasn't that your girlfriend you were dancing with?" the woman inquired.

"What, her? Nah," Hunter replied dismissively. "Just a colleague."

Skye suddenly felt an insane, completely irrational pang of jealousy. She squashed the ridiculous thought. Really - what the heck?

"It looked like she was into you," the heiress insisted teasingly.

Skye's ears were suddenly burning, and she hoped Hunter wasn't looking in her direction. Her, into Lance Hunter? Uh-uh. No way.

"Well, I'd prefer to get to know you a bit better," Hunter redirected smoothly.

Skye left them to it, Hunter's lines and the heiress' inane chatter still filling her right ear as she made her way across the ballroom toward the ladies' room.

Once inside, she shut herself into a stall and pulled the mini tablet out of her purse. Almost immediately, it began blinking an incoming transmission from Agent Lance Hunter.

That was fast.

He was sending her the heiress' thumbprint and the DNA scan of a strand of her hair. Skye wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to get that far in the forty-five seconds it had taken her to get to the bathroom.

And she was definitely not jealous.

"Got it. Translating," she said quietly for the benefit of the comms.

Skye tapped through the process Fitz had shown her, encoding the information into a format she could send to Mack's device that would activate the biometric scanners on Penelope's Maserati. The heiress and her crooked father had apparently recently begun dabbling in the acquisition and resale of alien weaponry.

"Never a good idea," Skye muttered.

"What?" Mack's voice came over the comms.

"Nothing. Sending the file now."

"Copy that."

Skye made sure the transmission went through, then slipped the tablet back into her purse. She flushed the toilet in case anybody was listening, then went to wash her hands and lingered, touching up her makeup to kill time, until Mack reported that the necessary materials from the Maserati had been photographed and the tracker planted in the wheel well.

"We're done here," Coulson confirmed. "Field team, stay a little longer and then politely excuse yourselves."

"Copy that," Skye replied, brushing on another coat of mascara. She capped the mascara and studied herself in the mirror, smirking approvingly before tossing the mascara back into her bag.

She found Hunter sitting alone at the bar, nursing a Scotch. Skye felt a bit more pleased than she probably ought to at the fact that the heiress was nowhere to be seen.

"What happened to the blonde?"

Hunter grimaced in mock regret. "She abruptly found me too...forward."

"Imagine that."

Hunter's eyes twinkled at her over the rim of his glass. He set it down, empty. "I thought, given my options, I'd rather spend the rest of the evening with someone whose company doesn't grate on my every nerve."

Yeah, okay. Hunter was kind of adorable. And the way her heart rate sped up when he winked at her like that didn't hurt one bit.

Skye tilted her head toward the dance floor. "Wanna dance?"

He grinned at her. "Thought you'd never ask."