It starts to cheer up Fitz, and everyone, really—to give their minds something to think about other than the empty space where Jemma should be—and deteriorates remarkably quickly into drunken truth or dare.

"God, I feel like I'm back in college," Bobbi muses with an extremely uncharacteristic giggle, not for the first time that night.

"You are not old enough to be out of college," is Lincoln's standby reply—that for some unknown reason has been making Skye absolutely steam, glaring daggers at the side of his head while he gives her eyes that make her stomach turn.

"She's old enough to have been married and divorced," she grumbles, maybe purposefully louder than she should. Fitz is the only one with the dignity left to shoot her a look and she instantly feels bad because she likes Bobbi, she really does.

She just is not a huge fan of the attention she is getting tonight.

There is another indecipherable grumble that shockingly, Skye finds, did not leave her own mouth. Hunter is on the side of her not taken by Lincoln and she catches the dirty looks he is shooting him through her she can practically feel the icy sting of.

It is getting later in the game at this point and boundaries are being tested. Fitz has no shirt on, Bobbi's oddest fear is lego figures, Lincoln has stolen a pair of Coulson's socks from his bunk and has one tucked behind his ear courtesy of Bobbi—and there is really nothing else to expect when Skye pleas dare and Hunter's eyes narrow in thought that is clearly beginning to grow difficult for him at this point.

"I dare you, Skye…" More pained thought. "To a kiss," he finally concludes, looking pleased with himself. "Anyone in the game."

It's that that finally gets Lincoln's eyes off of Bobbi, and it isn't Skye's fault if vengeance blooms angrily in her stomach. Her only clear thought is that it is very important to position herself so all the right people can see when she shuffles in front of Hunter, who has the decency to look sufficiently shocked.

"You said anyone," she reasons, smirking and resisting the urge to look at Lincoln's reaction, "Backing out of your own dare?"

It is technically then him who kisses her, in probably some misguided show of masculinity or an attempt at vengeance equal to her own. Either way the energy behind their combined attempts at revenge ends in a way she doesn't hate, his hand knotted in her hair and lips still hovering somewhat breathless over hers.

(She lets herself look at Lincoln now and isn't disappointed in the redness that colors his cheeks).

"Get a room next time," Fitz grumbles, staring uncomfortably at the ground in front of him.

She does not hate it at all, and she smiles innocently at Lincoln as she shuffles back into her spot beside him.

And then he gets up.

"I'm going to bed."

Silence follows as he turns away, and Skye's heart gives way a little as she watches him go to something she refuses to call regret.

"I… me also."

She doesn't even bother to pretend to go to her room, following where he left, not daring to call after him till the hallway door closes behind her.

It isn't hard to catch up with him.

"What are you doing? You looked like you were having fun."

"I just had to kiss Hunter," she tells his bitter expression with a furrowed brow, "I'm concerned that you would label that as fun."

"Skye, you picked him," he reasons fairly, and she matches his glare.

"Oh my God, do you honestly think I wanted to kiss him!?"

His glare goes slightly perplexed as he stares at her, confusion clear as he shakes his head sharply as if to clear the fog.

"You sure as hell seemed to enjoy it."

They both are getting sharp and angry, and liquor and their combined tempers are not a good mix at all.

"Okay, you know what, whether or not you have an opinion about me kissing Hunter is completely irrelevant after you flirted with Bobbi all night!" She presses an angry finger to his chest, and he attempts a step back in retaliation only to press himself to the wall. "You started this," she concludes angrily.

His eyes narrow.

"I did not flirt with Bobbi!"

She raises a brow.

"You're too young and beautiful and perfect to be out of college," she mocks, anger possibly influencing the complete accuracy of the impression of him.

He startles her when he doesn't argue, expression unchanging as he stares her down.

"Okay, maybe I did," he finally snaps, "Why the hell would it even matter!?"

"Why does it matter to you that I kissed Hunter!?"

His ears are bright red and he scratches angrily at the nape of his neck, breathing in and out slowly, before meeting her eyes with an impressive albeit angry sincerity—her heart pounds oddly against her chest and in that beat, something in the mood between them shifts, and the finger she still has pressed hard to his chest flattens slowly until her hand is pressed to his stuttering heartbeat and their eyes are still caught in the others gaze.

And then she is grabbing his shoulders, dragging him down to her level before pushing him harder into the wall at his back as their lips clash together. It's sloppy, his fingers dragging down the line of her waist and halting at the hem of her shirt when his fingers brush skin and send shockwaves through her. His other hand is tangled deep in her curls cupping the back of her neck and dragging her closer as he shifts his angle over her to deepen the kiss—pushing off the wall and walking her backwards into the opposite one. The cool brick contrasts with the warmth of his skin and he drifts back a moment and she can feel his heart racing against her palm.

"That's why," he says breathily, hand tightening in her hair and at her waist and she wishes his eyes would open so she could see the full effect of the wrecked lines that have etched into his expression.

"Eh," she responds, smirking as she watches him tense, "I think I'll stick with Hunter."

His eyes open to ensure that she's teasing and when he glares at her, she swallows her laughter by pressing her lips back to his.