ofthickskin:

hands moving along every inch of him, her mind not fully able to comprehend that he was truly ALIVE, she could feel as his body trembled against her. she wanted to cringe – knowing his last moments had been beside hive; the thing that had taken so much away from everyone, away from them. but it wasn’t his last moments, you idiot. he’s right in front of you.

she wanted to stay there forever, to just hold him in her arms away from the rest of the world. but nothing was that simple anymore. lincoln didn’t know of the things that she had done. the quakes she had created in his absence, her leaving shield and them searching for her. what would he say when she told him that she had abandoned the only family she had known?

running her fingertips through hair, daisy kept her body pressed tightly against lincoln’s, taking comfort in feeling the rise and fall of his chest. “you can’t be telling me not to cry right now.” a sob left the inhuman’s throat as she pulled her face back to look at him. “i thought you were gone for good. i thought i’d never get to see you or feel you again.” sniffling, she shook her head and held onto him tighter.

closing her eyes, daisy pressed a kiss to where lincoln’s shoulder and neck met, not caring at all about the sweat. “i love you too. god, i love you so much.”

With his hand gently threading into her now dark hair, his eyes closed and he focused on keeping his breathing regular. Keeping his heart calm. Her lips pressed to his skin was grounding, as were her hands touching him, and the warmth of her body against him. Swallowing, he smiled softly into her hair. 

“I’m here, Daisy, I’m here. I’m not leaving you. I’m here.” Gently, his hands ran the length of her hair– longer than he had thought it was. So much longer. As his fingers caught the end of the strands, his eyes opened and he truly looked at it, focusing on the length and the dye color and trying to make the two facts stick in his head. Trying to figure out what it meant. It should mean something, he thought, it means something.

Carefully, he pulled back to cup her cheek with one hand, looking her over. The cut that had been present on her cheek was now fully healed, a slight scar left in it’s place. His arm around her waist made him note that she had lost weight, lost some of the muscle he knew had been there before he launched her out of the quinjet. I’m sorry. Goodbye. I’m sorry. I’m sorry… What was the man sorry for?

image

          The hair, the weight, the scar, the apology, where was SHIELD?
          How had she gotten so far from—-

Lincoln didn’t realize for a solid minute that his face had become pale as he stared at her, his fingers still holding the ends of her hair. 

                                                                          Oh, God… 

His stomach twisted painfully before his arm around her waist squeezed gently to hold himself together (and if it was also to keep her close so the truth didn’t bring them both down that was a bonus). Voice barely above a whisper, he managed to slur out the question that tied all of those little facts together. 

                      “Daisy, how long has-it-been? How long did you think I was dead?”

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