Hello readers! Forgot to do this last time, so: I don't claim to own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

It was harder getting into Grant's head than May. Let me know what you think in the reviews!

Grant waited, gritting his teeth, until May lay still and breathed evenly. Then he turned onto his back and sighed up at the ceiling. He'd never been able to sleep on his side, but after what they'd just done, it had been very important to avoid any position that might seem like an invitation to conversation. The way he was feeling right now made pillow talk seem more painful than getting shot.

Besides which, what would I say? "Thanks for fucking me, it made the urge to kill someone subside somewhat?" "That was so good that I hardly even remembered the time I tried to drown my baby brother?" "I promise the fact I thought of another woman during that is no reflection on you?" "By the way, I'm part of a Hydra sleeper cell?" Dammit. As if it wasn't hard enough maintaining his cover without Berserker rage sloshing around inside his skull. He was getting sloppy and it had only been one day. A few decades, the Asgardian had said. Fucking great.

Now he could add anxiety to the list of emotions he was feeling. He knew he'd just broken S.H.I.E.L.D. regulations (be a good soldier, stay out of sight), ignored his mandate from Garrett (don't get attached, don't get involved, it's how you survive), and quite possibly insulted Skye (just one drink? maybe I can get a rain check . . .). His emotional equilibrium was far too broken to deal with that much fallout. He was going to slip up, get a detail of a story wrong, respond inappropriately to some bit of news, and blow the cover he'd been living every day of his life for the last ten years.

And this was his state of mind after an hour of blowing off steam with (the admittedly quite talented) May. He was so screwed.

Can I spin this when I report to John? Maybe . . . May was by far the most observant team member most of the time, but everyone's blind to the people closest to them. That's why you can't get attached, you fucking moron. If he could convince her to continue this affair, she'd never see him coming. If you can even manage to be convincing.

Grant began to relax, just a tiny bit. He could work with the idea of this being another gambit. Heck, most of the women he'd slept with over the years had been part of a mission from S.H.I.E.L.D. or from HYDRA. Piling lies on top of lies wasn't always easy, logistically, but it didn't bother him anymore.

Except you're a goddamn idiot who can't even follow orders properly. And when the hell did you start thinking in Garrett's voice? You're pathetic.

Grant groaned. Could he risk going to sleep? He was physically exhausted, but never liked sleeping in front of other people. Violent memories flooded his mind at that thought, and he was too weak to stop them. He groaned again and desperately tried to think of something else.

And suddenly, now of all times, he was thinking of Skye. Now you're never going to sleep, stupid. Well, better to think of her than of-things I'm NOT thinking about. He didn't know what it was about her. The world was full of women, but she was the first one to catch his eye in a very long time. She was just so . . . unflappable. Both tough and creative. Had the soul of a fighter, but a gentle side too.

He honestly couldn't say why those thoughts made him suddenly so uncomfortable in May's bed.

Maybe he should've agreed to that drink with her. But no matter how messy things got with May, he knew for sure they'd be worse with her. Skye was a cuddlier, he could just tell. You can't fake sleeping if you're literally in a woman's arms. He'd learned that lesson under . . . strangely pleasant circumstances. The woman in question had decided not to rest until he was resting, and things had gotten rather creative. Farah. She was a lot of fun.

But when she'd finally gotten him too exhausted to stay awake, he had talked in his sleep. He'd spent the next morning desperately trying to make her believe that it was only a strange nightmare, prompted by too much late-night TV, nothing based in personal events at all, no no no, don't ask too many questions about why I was screaming, just LEAVE IT ALONE!

Still, it had briefly been nice to know someone was concerned about his well-being. Sometimes he wondered what had happened to her, after that mission was over. He knew he'd wonder about Skye when this one was. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to stop wondering about her. After all, here he was thinking about her while lying next to someone else. Her eyes, her laugh, her muscles tensing under his hands as they sparred . . .

It's a weakness. Man up. Skye had a tender heart, she'd try to open him up, understand him, love him properly. But there were things she couldn't ever see.

You're better off pretending to be asleep next to May. She won't try to fix you. He risked a glance in her direction; she was fast asleep. Good. Time to think about his next move. He'd have to play the morning carefully. Slipping out without a word would end things then and there, but staying for breakfast might get them caught. What kind of man did she want to wake up next to?

As he lay there strategizing, he carefully did not think about Farah's arms around him (ancient history, forget her). He tried not to think about May's body, lying next to him in bed (too distracting, focus on the mission). But he couldn't shake the feeling that his arms were too empty, that there should've been a woman in them. A soft woman, a woman who cared about him deeply, a woman who would wrap her arms around his chest and try to get him to go to sleep.

It was a lot of work trying to pretend that he didn't know who that woman was.