I was asked to write a second part on Tumblr, so I decided to post it here too. Thank you to everyone who as read, reviewed, followed, and favorited. You're all really wonderful, and I appreciate your support. =)

Melinda tried her best not to look at the clock again. She knew it would only make her more restless, which would just make time move slower. Patient, be patient.

Melinda was hungry. No, scratch that, she was starving. She had been running late that morning thanks to an unexpected phone call from her mother, and she had skipped breakfast. In addition to that, the night before she had only managed a paltry sandwich due to the benefit President Coulson had to attend. A security detail was necessary, as usual, and by the end of the night Melinda was so exhausted she just collapsed into bed.

So really, she hadn't eaten much in the past twenty-four hours, and she was quite eager to rectify that.

She was currently stuck in a briefing that was supposedly going to let out at 12:30. At least, that was what Fury had claimed.

"Now," he was saying, drawing Melinda from her thoughts about her aching stomach, "Next week the President has his conference with England's Prime Minister, which I'm sure you're all aware of." He sent a stern look around the table, receiving tight nods from the assembled agents.

"The President has requested a small Secret Service team, as he doesn't want to come off as 'too threatening or paranoid-looking.'" Fury rolled his one good eye, and Melinda suppressed a smile. "So, Barton, Hill, and May, you're all coming with me." Fury's gaze rested on Melinda far longer than the others, and she felt like squirming.

"Alright, get out of here, all of you." Fury waved his hand, and the room emptied faster than you could say "Free pizza buffet." Melinda practically jumped out of her chair in her haste to leave, but before she could make it to the door, Fury stopped her.

"May, a word."

"Sir?" She tried to act clueless, but it didn't take a mind-reader to know what was coming.

"I hope I haven't made a bad call in having you come to England," he said sternly.

"Have I done something to make you think you did?" she asked as politely as she could.

"Not yet," Fury admitted. "You're one of my best agents, if not the best. You've done incredible things for this country." His glare intensified. "But while I may be missing one eye, I'm not blind. I can see how close you are to the First Daughter, and I know the President is aware of it, too. Don't make it a security risk."

"Understood."

Fury stared at her for a moment longer before nodding, satisfied. "Have a good lunch, May."

"You too, sir."

Melinda sped from the room, desperate to put as much distance as possible between her and her boss. Over the past few weeks, those talks had gotten more frequent, and Melinda's movements had been heavily scrutinized. She knew exactly why, but that did nothing to calm her. In fact, it made the unease she felt worse.

Nearly a month ago, two bombs had gone off at the First Daughter's birthday party. Melinda had taken it upon herself to get the little girl and her father out, and she did without difficulty. She brought them to an underground bunker, where they waited for several hours until more Secret Service agents came to debrief the President and take them home.

Within that span of time, Melinda found herself lying on a bed with Skye, the First Daughter, curled up against her side, and Skye's father, the President of the Freaking United States, holding Melinda's hand. She would be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed it. That terrified her.

He had confessed he wanted to get to know her better, and Melinda wanted that too, but since then she had only seen him when she was on his security detail. The aftermath of the bombings had been a major blow for the country, and President Coulson was put under near-constant surveillance.

The bombers had been apprehended just last week, and the public was beginning to get back on its feet. That meant the President's schedule was lightening up (as much as the leader of the free world's schedule could lighten up), and Melinda had no clue as to what would happen.

On one hand, she wished he would just forget about her. Fury was watching her every move like a hawk, and if he caught her in any state of friendship (or something else) with Coulson – Phil, he had kept insisting – she would lose her job. And even if he wasn't, getting close to the President had "bad news" written all over it.

Yet, whenever Melinda told herself that, she remembered Phil's blue eyes. She remembered his smile. She remembered the way his hand felt resting over hers.

And she wondered if maybe getting to know him wasn't so bad.

And then she debated whether or not she should just quit now before things got messy.

Melinda shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself. It had been a week since the bombers were caught, and nothing from Phil. Therefore, his words at the bunker were simply said in the heat of the moment. He had more important things to do (like run a country) than organize dates with his Secret Service agents.

And if Melinda felt a shred of disappointment, she pushed it away.

She was halfway to the kitchen when a high, tiny voice called her name.

"Melinda!"

"Hello, Skye." Any irritation Melinda had felt about being interrupted was gone at the sight of the First Daughter coming her way. She automatically knelt down so she was at Skye's level.

"Where are you going?" Skye asked.

"I was going to get some lunch," Melinda explained, glancing wistfully down the hall. Her stomach growled.

"I'm going to eat lunch, too!" Skye exclaimed. Her eyes lit up, as though she had just come up with the most wonderful idea. "Will you eat with me?"

"Oh, sweetie, that's very kind of you, but I should probably be alone." Fury's words echoed in her mind. No attachments.

"Please? I have no one to eat with." Skye lowered her head, and Melinda cursed herself for falling prey to the cutest girl on the planet.

"Oh, alright. I suppose one lunch won't hurt."

"Yay!" Skye brightened immediately and grabbed Melinda's hand, leading her back down the hall in the direction Melinda had come. She began chattering about her newest toy, all traces of sadness gone, and Melinda suspected she had just been played.

She was proven correct when Skye finally brought her to their destination. Melinda thought they were going to Skye's bedroom, or maybe a more private kitchen.

She didn't realize she was going to be dining in the Oval Office that afternoon.

"Daddy!" Skye released Melinda's hand and raced over to her father, who opened his arms right in time to catch her. Melinda stood rooted in the doorway, half-debating running away.

"Hello, princess," Phil said, kissing Skye's cheek. "How's your day been so far?"

"Good," Skye replied with a shrug. She grinned. "Better now I'm with you."

"I feel the same way." Phil looked up at Melinda, and a soft smile spread across his face. Melinda's stomach did an odd jump.

"Hi."

She forced herself to swallow. "Hi."

"Will you be joining us for lunch?"

Melinda suddenly felt a wave of guilt for interrupting their special time. "I – Uh, no, I – I didn't – Skye told me she was eating alone, and I felt bad."

Melinda hated how lame she sounded. Phil simply smiled wider, clearly amused by how flustered she was.

"Nicely done, princess," he said to Skye.

"I said it just like you told me to!" Skye declared proudly.

Melinda's eyes darted from Phil to Skye.

"Wait," she said, "Did you tell her to lie to me?"

Phil's expression turned sheepish. "I didn't think you would accept a lunch invitation if it came from me."

"Wouldn't I have to? You are the President."

"Probably, but it wouldn't be the same." Phil suddenly seemed nervous. "If you really don't want to stay, you're free to go." Skye began to protest this, but Phil shushed her, keeping his gaze on Melinda.

He was telling the truth, Melinda could tell. She could turn on her heel and walk straight from this room, and he wouldn't hold it against her. If she was smart, she would do exactly that. These were dangerous waters, and moving further in could result in disastrous consequences.

"Well…" she said slowly, "I do remember you saying something about a date."

Tentative hope flashed across Phil's face. "You want this to be our date?"

Instead of speaking, Melinda simply walked deeper into the room and settled on one of the couches. She removed her jacket and draped it over the back of the couch.

"What's for lunch?"

"Macaroni and cheese!" Skye blurted, overjoyed at this latest development. She slid from her father's lap and darted over to Melinda, hopping up beside the Secret Service agent.

"Sounds delicious," Melinda commented, looking back at Phil. He was smiling warmly at her, and her stomach tingled.

"See, Daddy? Melinda loves mac and cheese," Skye boasted. Melinda suppressed a giggle brought on by the little girl's tone.

"You're right, princess," Phil said, standing up. "You should just run the whole country, you're so much smarter than me." He winked at Melinda and joined the two on the couch.

"That's what I've been saying," Skye stage-whispered to Melinda.

"I don't know, I think your dad can be pretty smart when he wants to be," Melinda said.

"I think that's a compliment. So thank you," Phil said with an inclination of his head. Melinda shrugged.

"A backhanded one, but you're welcome."

"I can have you deported, you know."

"Then you'd lose one of the best members of your security detail."

"You think very highly of yourself."

"I did save your life a few weeks ago."

"That you did." All remnants of teasing left his expression. "Thank you, again, for that."

Melinda blushed, ducking her head. "It's my job."

"So, you wouldn't save me if I wasn't the President?" He was joking again, but it struck something within Melinda.

"No, I would," she said softly, looking up again. Their gazes met, and Melinda practically stopped breathing at the intensity in his eyes.

"Well, either way, thank you."

"You said that already."

"Once doesn't seem enough."

"You've said it more than once."

"Can't you just take my gratitude?" Phil laughed, warming Melinda's body. She smiled.

"You're welcome."

"Thank you, Melinda," Skye said. She spoke quietly, but the two adults still jumped, having forgotten she was there. Melinda glanced down to see Skye fidgeting in her seat.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she replied in an equally soft voice. It suddenly hit Melinda how close she had been to losing this sweet, vibrant girl. It scared her far more than it should have. Melinda brushed Skye's hair back behind her ear.

Phil watched this interaction closely, a long-forgotten feeling blooming in his chest. It was an odd warmth, a happy warmth, the kind he associated with quiet nights and peaceful days.

It was the way he used to feel every time he saw Skye curled up with her mother. He had always pictured it as sunlight in his body, filling him up from head to toe. It had been a long, long time since he'd felt it last.

But there it was, once again, and it led Phil to a very important conclusion: He didn't want to lose it again.