Title: you really know me.
Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Characters: Bobbi, Hunter.
Prompt: Protection.
Rating: PG.
Length: 1k.
Content warnings: References past violence.
Author’s notes: Set post season 2. Title is from Camilla Cabello’s "Easy".
Summary: Hunter’s hovering. Bobbi’s frustrated.


"I can carry the bag, Hunter."

"It’s fine, I’ve got a hand to spare," he says, sidestepping her when she reaches out with her right hand to try and steal the strap of the calico bag from his fingertips.

Bobbi sighs, shaking her head. Hunter can be agile when he wants to be, which is often when she doesn’t want him to be. She mutters, "Child."

"I heard that," he says loudly, puffing his chest out. When she glances at him, she notes the little happy smirk on his face.

"I don’t need you to babysit me," she says, glaring at him playfully.

He steps behind her when a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent hurries by them in the small corridor. Hunter’s noisy when he moves beside her, his knuckles white with how tightly he holds all the bags in his hands. Carrying at least five bags, all of various weights, Bobbi wants to elbow him hard and corner him against the wall and steal them from him. It’d be easy. She always has the element of surprise with him.

But that’s not nice—and she’s doing her best to be as much.

"That’s not what I’m doing," he says a moment later, shaking his head. "I had nothing else to do, and I remember how bad you are at shopping—"

"Hunter," she warns.

"What?" He blinks at her innocently. "I’m just saying, I wasn’t doing anything nefarious. I had nothing planned and I chose to help you out."

"Uh huh."

"I’m serious!"

"You know, May did tell me that you refused to go on any assignments that meant you couldn’t come and spy on me."

He shakes his head, brows furrowing incredulously. "That’s not—"

"And," she says a little loudly, looking ahead and nodding towards an agent she doesn’t mind the company of, "Coulson also told me that you always ask him what I’m doing, where I am, if I’m doing my physio."

At the challenging cock of her brow, he almost fumbles and trips over his own feet.

"Bob… You know I’m just trying to look out for you, don’t you?"

She can’t help but exhale heavily through her nose, glancing down a little sheepishly towards the floor. "I know," she admits quietly.

As their destination approaches, Bobbi calculates how she can get there first. What she doesn’t need is Hunter opening the door for her and holding it until she steps through the threshold. She doesn’t need that; she can open doors just fine.

Taking a few long strides before he can think to, she opens the door and gestures with her right arm for him to step inside first.

He shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in her and easily steps through, turning around to face her. She thinks he’s about to reach out to hold the door for her, but given how many bags he has in his hands—and the fact she knows they’re straining him (Hunter’s never been good with holding things for a very long time)—he wanders into the small office and unceremoniously deposits the bags onto the desk.

"I just…" Hunter cards his hand through his short-cropped hair and purposefully doesn’t look at her. "You know, Bob… I just—you took a bullet for me," he says exasperatedly. It’s a comment he’s repeated over and over, and each time he does so, he doesn’t sound like he believes it at all.

She took a bullet for him. It’s a simple fact he refuses to grasp for its many heavy connotations.

Bobbi remains standing near the closed door and keeps her arms against her sides. She observes the way his shoulders tense and the line of his throat grows tight. All she wants to do is take it away, but she’s only ever been good at putting the tension and anger beneath his skin.

"I know," she says. "I was there."

He turns to face her, tilting his head to the side with a look of impatience. "You didn’t need to do that."

It’s her turn to look away, her gaze dropping to the floor. She does her best to remain still. "You would’ve died."

"And you almost did."

Bobbi inhales deeply, closing her eyes before she opens them to look at him. "I made a choice," she says, taking a step towards him. Hunter stands tall, as he always does in her presence. She doesn’t approach him to challenge him this time. She approaches him for him. "And I decided that wasn’t worth the risk."

"I’m always worth the risk," he mutters. "Especially when—"

"For god’s sake, Hunter," she sighs, rolling her eyes. When she looks at him, it’s with a fond smile. "Can you let me take this one?"

Hunter presses his lips together, the corners—still so stressed and strained in the way they’ve been curving downward every time he looks at her—curve upward slightly. "No," he says, grinning at her lopsidedly. "You know I can’t let you take it. I’ve never been good at doing what you want."

"Yes, you have," she says, reaching out to brush her fingers against his bicep. "You have stayed. And you haven’t called me a "She-beast" in two weeks."

He ducks his head, smiling. With a shake of it and a scuff of his foot, he mutters, "Week and a half."

Stepping into him, Bobbi invites herself to place her hands gently against his neck. Letting him take his time in looking up at her, when he does, she can see how strained his small smile is. She smiles brightly, wanting him to mirror her. He will, eventually. Hunter may be a slow learner, but he learns.

"I made a choice," she says, looking him in the eye. "And I chose that taking that bullet in my shoulder was worth it." When he opens his mouth, she shakes her head. "And I’d do it again. Deal with it," she says, lips curving into a lopsided smile. "I made sure you kept your promise."

He sighs heavily, shoulders slumping. "Don’t die out there," he murmurs.

Bobbi smiles. "I didn’t want to lose the pain in my ass, so."

"Okay, okay," he says, smiling. His brows furrow as he tilts his head to the side playfully. "It’s a good pain in the ass, right?"

"Oh, no," she says with a shake of her head. "You’re the worst."