Chapter Text
“Knew it”, Daisy growls. They have been on a two-week mission, flying directly to a small town in Italy for their next task. What they haven’t anticipated is the federally imposed 10-day quarantine rule. However much Maria tries to pull old strings, she doesn’t succeed in reaching an alternate solution. The only thing they can do is stay put in a tiny hotel from the government-approved quarantine list for five days minimum. After that, they’re at liberty to get tested and, if negative, to continue their journey.
Coulson carries their stuff from the baggage check to the closest taxi, sweating under his mask, Daisy trailing behind him. When they both slump into the back seat, Coulson winks at her (maybe it’s just an itch because of the mask, but Daisy wants to believe he winked), then murmurs conspiratorially, “Guess we could still make this a vacation.” And Daisy really wants to believe that, even though it means they’ll have to stay inside the whole time. But who knows, it could be nice, even just to sleep in and have someone (a cook!) make breakfast for you. She sighs and smiles at Coulson, her mask hopping up for a moment, because he’s being a dork, and she knows what he’s doing. He’s trying to cheer her up. She particularly appreciates that because their schedule was her responsibility.
They finally arrive (after-work traffic is a nightmare), and Daisy can see the mask straps leaving weird marks on Coulson’s cheek as they’re lining up for reception. That isn’t supposed to do things for her, but it gives her a hot flash for a second. Then the receptionist turns their attention to them and Daisy is distracted. With joint forces, they manage to explain in Italian what’s going on. The taxi driver could do it (airport security had explained to him, after all), but either he wants to give them some privacy, or he’s just not interested. Whichever it is, they seem to have managed, because the receptionist takes one of their bags and gestures towards the stairs (using the elevator is not allowed the moment).
When they reach the third floor, everyone panting, the guy explains they have to stay inside, that there is food if they order it on the phone, and that they can sit on the balcony if they want. They can even leave their laundry outside if needed, but only if they write their name on the closed laundry bag. Daisy makes an effort to smile so hard that it clearly reaches her eyes, making sure the guy can see. She’s still grumpy, but it’s nobody’s fault. Of course she doesn’t want to infect anyone. And maybe Coulson’s right, it could be nice. He steps forward to swipe the card he’s been handed, and Daisy stands there, waiting for the receptionist to give her one too. The guy shrugs, says that’s all they have, or something to that effect, then hops down the stairs. She’s not sure if things got lost in translation, but spending five days in one and the same room with Coulson is ... quite another challenge.
She lugs the rest of their bags inside, kicks off her shoes, then dutifully washes her hands before removing her mask. Coulson is already maskless, unpacking some things in the main area. The room isn’t even as small as Daisy expected, but the bed – the bed is a French bed. Oh joy.
“You okay?,” Coulson tries.
Daisy realizes she’s frowning. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Just really tired.”
“Same. We could ring downstairs for coffee if you want?”
That does sound good, and Daisy does her best to look as grateful as she can. “Yes, please. I would actually love that.”
Coulson goes to the nightstand, figures out the right extension, then rubs the back of his head in concentration as he orders in Italian. Daisy smiles because Coulson isn’t a fan of Italian coffee for nothing, things seem to go pretty smoothly.
He looks a little embarrassed when he turns around, but Daisy smiles. “Grazie, Phil,” she tries, and it works, oh it definitely works, judging by the colour of his cheeks. Good to know. Or not. Wow, Daisy really needs to get a grip. Five days! Five fucking days. This is not going to be easy. But to be fair, there are far worse people she could be quarantined with. Hunter, for example.
“I think this is going to be nice,” Coulson says, sheepishly, having regained most of his natural cheek colour. “I mean ... we could have Hunter in the mix.”
It takes them a moment before they burst out in laughter.
Then, there’s a knock on the door. Daisy gathers that they’ll leave their coffee on the floor on a tray, so everyone’s safe. She does her best to confirm, then waits for the waiter to leave.
When she gets back, Coulson has changed his clothes and opened the balcony door. The two small chairs indeed look very inviting, and there’s some evening sun to be had still. Daisy carefully sets the tray down, then gestures at herself, announcing she’ll change as well.
When she returns, Coulson gives her a curious look. Daisy has put on her sweatpants, but hasn’t bothered with a jumper, so she’s in one of her sleeveless training tops. But it can’t be her arms Coulson finds that interesting, can it?
Daisy smiles a little awkwardly, and they turn their attention to the coffee, which is fucking divine, probably even better than in Coulson’s wildest dreams. They take turns moaning into the perfect foam. After three or four tourist noises each, Coulson starts to giggle. No, really: giggle; and of course she can’t hold back. It’s hard to stop, but when they do, the look Coulson shoots her is priceless. Daisy is simultaneously very, very happy to see that, and very, very worried about their sleeping arrangements and having to spend all this time at arm’s length from him. She knows herself, if she hadn’t any self-control, she would never have become an agent, but this feels wonderful and dangerous at the same time.