The only exception (is where the lines overlap)

Grant sipped his beer as he sat at one of the back tables of McGillevrey's watching a football game with Natasha, Antoine Triplett, Bobbi Morse, Ricky Mathis, and Ali Morales. They were all specialists, so all of them being in town at the same time didn't often happen. He had to admit it was nice to see them outside their usual mission parameters.

"Your home team is losing, Ward," Tripp observed.

"Yeah, well, not a Patriots fan," Grant replied, grabbing a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the table.

"How do you hail from Massachusetts and not be a Patriots fan?" Ricky asked curiously. "Isn't that some kind of sacrilege?"

Grant shrugged, having no intention of going into the reasons for his team affiliations. His brother Christian, now a state senator, had always been a Patriots fan just as their father was. Considering what a pompous asshole he'd been since childhood, Grant started rooting for opposing teams in high school just to get a rise out of both his father and older brother. Choosing West Point over Harvard had been the final blow, and he'd remained largely out of touch with his family over the years despite the fact that Christian was often in D.C.

"Another round?" Ali asked. "I can't remember the last time we all had downtime together." She'd recently returned from an operation in South America and had been reassigned to the Triskelion for a couple of months.

"I'm out," Bobbi said, standing up and pulling on her black leather jacket. "I'm headed back out tomorrow. Not all of us can be slackers."

"Where to this time?" Tripp asked.

"Panama. Probably a short trip, but we'll see." With a wave she headed for the entrance.

Ali raised a brow at Grant. "Your turn to pay, but I'll help you carry them."

Grant stood and looked at Ricky, Tripp and Natasha. "Anybody hungry?"

"Nachos, man," Ricky answered, crossing his arms as they all watched Brady getting sacked onscreen. "Ouch. That had to hurt."

"Your call sign should be Nacho," Tripp told Ricky, shaking his head in amusement. "Or Taco."

"I'll answer to that," Ricky replied, blue eyes never leaving the screen.

"Probably beats Honeypot," Natasha said, amused. "How many honeytrap missions have they sent you on lately?"

Grant couldn't help grinning at that. With his classic Adonis features, blue eyes and curly, dark hair, Ricky was always a draw for the ladies, and he'd been asked to use that on missions so frequently that other specialists had started calling him Honeypot.

Ricky's response was the middle finger, and Natasha smiled. "Charming. I'll never understand what women see in you."

"I'll have one of the club melts," Tripp told Grant as he glanced up from the menu.

Grant looked at Natasha. "You in?"

"Same," she said.

Grant followed Ali to the bar, where they placed their order with one of the bartenders and waited for the beer.

Ali leaned back against the bar. "I thought I'd see you around more now that I'm at the Triskelion."

"Flash missions are keeping me busy," Grant answered.

"Well, you know what they say about all work and no play," Ali murmured, her dark eyes flashing flirtatiously.

It was an invitation, one with which Grant was very familiar. Alisande Morales was a beautiful woman – long, black hair, dark eyes, a curvaceous figure, and a fiery Cuban nature were all things that had attracted him in the past. It certainly wasn't the first time they'd played this game, and as long as they both remained single, it probably wouldn't be the last. It was always a simple arrangement with them, and Grant appreciated that simplicity.

But ever since he'd met Skye, he found himself avoiding short term flings. He'd initially put it down to lack of time, but now he knew it had more to do with a lack of interest on his part. He'd been assigned to the Triskelion for just over three months, and he'd spent a lot of time with Skye during that period. Her involvement in flash missions had increased, and though Grant hadn't yet told her, he knew that the agency was considering bumping Skye's clearance level since she was routinely being approved for higher level operations on a case by case basis anyway.

For the second time in as many weeks, Grant chose to ignore Ali's thinly veiled invitation. "I'll keep that in mind."

Ali shrugged as the beer arrived, and she helped him carry it back to their table. Grant sat back and listened to the others trade good-natured barbs, smiling at a few of them. Since he'd been back in D.C., he'd spent quite a few evenings at McGillevrey's with Tripp and Natasha. While he still worked long hours, it was probably the first time since his academy days that he'd spent so long in one place.

It allowed him to relax his guard a little and reinforce friendships with fellow team members. The bond of being in the field together would always hold up, but the more casual environment fostered a different dynamic between them all. He'd been irritated when Garrett forced him out of the field, but he was beginning to see the benefits of the breaks other agents occasionally took from deep cover operations.

And then there was Skye. He'd bonded with her as well over the past few months, planning flash missions and subsequently poring over intelligence gathered on those missions. Grant had argued in favor of using Skye for higher level missions because in his opinion, her talents were being wasted at the lower levels. Missions that fell under Victoria Hand were usually a problem because she was a stickler for hard rules, but Coulson and Hill had both approved Skye's involvement on a number of level five and level six missions that Grant was overseeing.

They often had lunch together, though they were also frequently joined by her boyfriend Patrick Donnelly, who was a computer engineering expert. He'd looked into Patrick's background, and there were no skeletons. He was a genius in his field and only a couple of years older than Skye. Patrick was also not the average science geek – he was a hipster who played drums for a local band on weekends, and he could find the humor in almost anything. In that way he and Skye were well matched. But as far as Grant could tell their relationship was no more serious now than it had been a few months ago, and he was happier about that than he had any right to be.

He should probably take Ali up on her invitation. But while it was one thing to indulge in a form of no-strings release, it was another to use a friend as a stand-in for someone he couldn't have. And whether Patrick was in the picture or not, Grant knew he couldn't have Skye. It wouldn't work for a number of reasons, the biggest one being that eventually he'd go back to deep cover operations and she would remain in D.C.

It didn't mean that he didn't want her, and that tension had been building steadily in recent weeks. A part of him wondered if she felt it as strongly as he did, but the larger and more rational part of him didn't want to know the answer to that question. Because if she did feel it, he was afraid he'd be tempted to cross the lines he'd been busy drawing in the months since he'd been back.

He rarely saw her after hours, preferring to keep most of their interactions confined to the Triskelion. They had to work late on occasion, and they'd order dinner in on those nights. However, he tried to limit late nights, especially the ones where they were alone together. They were friends, but not the kind who hung out on weekends. They did run into each other at McGillevrey's fairly often now that he was spending more time there. Skye seemed less comfortable being around the other specialists, so she rarely stuck around long when he was with the others.

As if his thoughts had conjured her presence, he saw Skye at the bar talking to A.J. She was alone, which meant she was probably meeting her friends there. It was Friday night, and Patrick usually had a gig at a local bar not far from McGillevrey's. He knew that Skye sometimes met Fitz and Jemma there before they all went to watch the band play.

A.J. nodded in his direction and Skye looked over, lifting her hand in greeting when she saw him. He waved back, and she passed some money over to A.J. before walking over to his table.

"Hey," Skye said, nodding at everyone. "Good game? I noticed the Patriots are losing, so I figured you'd be happy."

He couldn't help smiling at that. "It's the little things in life, right?" He pulled out the chair beside him and she sat down, though he noticed she didn't remove her jacket. "Getting takeout?"

She nodded. "I'm meeting Jemma and Fitz at my place, and then we're going to watch Patrick's band. Do you feel like joining us?" She glanced around the table. "I mean, you're all welcome, obviously. The band is playing over at Black Cat this weekend. It's pretty low key."

Grant saw Ali and Ricky looking at Skye curiously. "Skye, I don't think you've met everyone. Alisande Morales and Ricky Mathis – you've probably heard their names before. This is Skye, one of the computer analysts who's been working with me on operations."

Skye shook their hands. "I have heard the names." She looked over at Tripp. "You're coming tonight, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Tripp replied as their food arrived. He took his plate from the waitress. "I like Patrick's band. They're pretty good."

"I haven't been to a live music venue in a long time," Natasha commented. "I'm in. Honeypot?"

Skye raised a brow at the nickname. "Honeypot?"

"Oh, the stories I could tell," Natasha said with a smile even as Ricky flipped her off a second time. "Ricky has a very specialized skill set."

Tripp and Ali laughed, and Grant shook his head in amusement.

"Fuck you, Nat," Ricky replied, though he was clearly fighting a grin.

"I really should," Natasha said easily. "Hell if I know what all the fuss is about. You can't be that damn good."

"Oh, I'm good," Ricky told her.

The waitress approached the table again, this time carrying Skye's takeout order. Grant watched her as she stood up, carrying one bag in each hand. "Are you taking the bus?"

She gave him a knowing look. "I'll be fine. It's only two stops down and believe me - I am super aware of my surroundings after being mugged at Brookland. You don't have to worry so much."

Grant stood up. "I'll walk you out."

Skye shook her head but didn't protest when he took the takeout bags from her. Outside the sun was fading on the horizon, and the evening air held the cool, crisp notes that signaled fall was just around the corner. At the bus stop, Skye took the takeout bags from him, and he felt that familiar spark of awareness when her fingers brushed his. He'd hoped it would fade with time, but so far that hadn't happened.

"Thanks for the escort," she said, looking up at him with a smile. "See you later?"

Tripp and Natasha were going, so it was likely that Ricky and Ali would join them. "Yeah, I'll drop by."

Grant kept his eyes on her as she went up the steps of the bus and settled in a seat by the window as the bus pulled out. He walked back inside, ignoring the brow that Natasha raised in his direction and the way that Ali was watching him, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

Skye sat at a front table with Jemma, Fitz, Skye and Natasha and tried not to stare at Grant and Ali at the bar. The way Ali leaned into him was pretty telling, and she was sure if they weren't lovers now that they had been in the past. And from the looks of it, it wasn't entirely in the past.

Jemma was talking about an incident that had occurred in the lab, and Skye forced her attention back to the conversation.

"They were caught in flagrante delicto if you know what I mean," Jemma said. "In the lab!"

"She set herself on fire?" Skye asked, confused. Everyone immediately laughed.

"What? No, although perhaps figuratively that's accurate because they were quite loud," Jemma replied. "Poor Dr. Perkins was just mortified, as was I when I followed him into the room to see what the yelling was about. They were hopping about trying to locate knickers and trousers. I saw much more of them than I'm comfortable with."

Skye laughed. "Nice visual. So, what was that word for fire? You know, the bananas at the restaurant?"

"That's flambé, Skye, not flagrante," Jemma said in an exasperated tone. "Remind me never to take you abroad. We're likely to be arrested for the kind of language mistakes you make."

"Hey!" Skye protested. "If it's a computer based language I can kick ass and take all the names, and I'm good at English. Mostly."

"Need I remind you of the Koreatown pharmacy incident?"

"Fine. I suck at languages. But the fact that the Korean word for intestinal problems sounds an awful lot like salsa is so not my fault," Skye retorted. "I thought she was asking me if I ate bad salsa or something."

"Well, I suppose you're not completely off in thinking flagrante means fire," Fitz told her. "It's Medieval Latin and loosely translates to being caught in the midst of a blazing crime. Perhaps you're improving."

"Improving?" Grant asked as he, Ali and Ricky rejoined them at the table.

"Fitz is being all bright side about my sad lack of foreign language skills," Skye explained. "Only slightly embarrassing since I'm sitting at a table with a bunch of language experts."

He slid a fresh drink in front of her. "True, but none of us can touch you when it comes to computers. We all have our particular skills, but I've never seen anyone break through firewalls as fast as you do. I can think of several recent missions that wouldn't have gone as well as they did if you hadn't been involved."

Skye knew that Grant didn't dole out praise lightly, and he always meant what he said. Though she knew her own value, she couldn't deny that it was nice to get that validation from someone like Grant. "I'm glad that I've been cleared to work on so many of your missions because they are a lot more interesting than most of the work I usually do."

"Speaking of which, something came up today that we might need to move quickly on," he told her. "I'll start going over the intel this weekend, so drop by my office first thing Monday morning."

Intrigued, she asked, "Do you need me before then?"

Grant shook his head. "No, you should enjoy your weekend. Monday is soon enough."

"Hey now, no shop talk," Tripp said, raising his glass. "We all need a break tonight."

Skye was a little quieter than usual, sitting back and letting the others take over the conversation. She rarely saw Grant outside the office these days. They had lunch together a few times a week, especially if they were going over mission parameters or intel, and she occasionally saw him at McGillevrey's. They had settled pretty firmly into the work friends category, and they worked extremely well together.

So why did she feel like something was missing? She was tempted to push for more of a relationship outside the office because she liked spending time with him, but then she thought of the sparks that still flared up between them at unexpected moments. She'd felt it again earlier at the bus stop – that residual attraction that seemed intent on sticking around despite her best efforts to ignore it.

Maybe it's better this way, she thought. Only it didn't feel better, it felt… wrong.

Jemma was eyeing her with concern, sensing her mood was off, so Skye made an effort to rejoin the conversation. When the band took a break, Patrick joined them.

"Hey, Tripp," Patrick said, slapping him on the back as he rounded the table. Dragging a chair up beside Skye, he nodded at Grant. "Ward. Nice to see you outside the office."

Ward nodded in response, and Skye felt Patrick shift awkwardly beside her.

No matter how many times Grant joined them for lunch, Patrick was never quite as comfortable around him as he was with Tripp. When she asked him about it, Patrick sheepishly admitted that Grant intimidated him. Skye could see why that might be true; Grant projected a serious vibe at the Triskelion, and he was self-contained in ways that made it difficult for others to get to know him. He relaxed his guard around her and with friends like Tripp and Natasha, but she'd quickly realized that most people at work were as intimidated by him as poor Greg had been. Jemma and Fitz had admitted to being impressed that she was able to work with him so well since he'd sent more than one analyst and scientist running with a hard stare whenever he didn't get the answers he needed.

Patrick was an easygoing guy, and he had the sort of laid back personality that allowed him to get along with everyone he met. He was open where Grant was reserved, and it was usually pretty easy to tell what he was thinking. After being burned by one douchebag too many, Skye liked that Patrick was an open book. But there was a certain challenge in getting close to a man like Grant, and the moments when he let her in felt like an accomplishment.

They were as opposite in appearance as they were in personality. Patrick was a few inches shorter and of average build. He hit the gym regularly, but he wasn't a field agent and didn't train in the same way. His brown hair was long enough to push the boundaries of SHIELD dress code and had copper highlights that brought out his green eyes. He pulled off the casual hipster look he favored well – he was currently sporting fitted black pants, a Ramones t-shirt worn under a plaid shirt, and a black beanie.

Patrick was handsome, smart, funny and sweet; still, he faded a bit next to Grant and the memory of that night.

It always came back to that night, and Skye knew it wasn't a fair comparison. That night had been an anomaly. It was perfect because it had been a moment – a fleeting moment of beauty that she had no hope of recapturing. And she genuinely cared about Patrick. He was accessible and available, he was genuine, and he cared about her. So whenever those comparisons rose in her mind, she made every effort to shut them down.

But when Patrick went back for the second set, she couldn't stop her gaze from drifting to Grant. He might not be accessible or available, and he was way too serious most of the time, but she felt drawn to him. While she was honest enough with herself to admit it was partly physical, she knew that wasn't the whole reason. And when he left an hour later, offering a ride to Ali, she felt a twinge of jealousy that she knew she shouldn't be feeling.

A/N: I know it's been way too long since I updated, and I'm sorry about that. Unfortunately, it couldn't really be avoided. Anyway, I'm back with part 3 of The Head and the Heart. This installment is two chapters, and I'll post the second chapter in a couple of days. There will be more of all the characters, and Skye's SHIELD agent father makes his debut. Then we have Skye's first time in the field and things don't go as planned. In other words, lots of things are happening. I should be able to get to the next chapter of Under My Skin by the weekend.