There is something about waking up curled tight in his arms with no place to be that makes Skye wonder how she'd gotten on so long without him. Tired kisses pressed lazily to her shoulder blades and roaming fingers finding her own as he lets out a little breath that borders on groan and makes her stomach do little flips beneath where their hands are tangled.

"Don't get up," she orders in a voice that is a little too groggy to be taken seriously—but she squeezes his fingers tight between her own and snuggles back closer to him when he chuckles delicately into the hair tangled at her neck.

"I had no intention of going anywhere," he promises, punctuating the words with his lips brushed along the sharp line of her jaw and no, she isn't sure how she went on so long without this at all.

The bed is small—not designed with sharing in mind, but they get on fine with it anyway—legs and arms a jumbled tangled mess among the sheets—and neither of them particularly mind that they wake so twisted together they can't tell where they end and where the other begins.

At least for Skye, the close proximity is a comfort—being so physically near to him that it's like their invisible walls have shifted and meshed and there isn't a single thing in the world he might be keeping from her.

It is a comfort that she never loses her appreciation for.

He has let her hand go now—arm draped over her hip, playing his fingers in a mindless gentle pattern above her belly button that makes her skin tingle. His lips have found her shoulder again, and his hair (perpetually stuck up but even more ridiculous in the mornings) tickles where it brushes beneath her jaw.

"You might need a haircut," she tells him, smirking as she shifts in his arms so she's lying on her back, head tilted to take in his sleep fogged and mildly offended expression, lips turned slightly downwards. She only smiles harder, untangling her hand from between them to run up through his chaotic hair then down beneath his jaw, thumbing gently at his frown till it softens away and he rolls his eyes.

"Your hair is all over, all the time," he argues, still looking dubiously down at her smirk—using the arm he isn't propped up with to tug playfully at a stray curl, "you have actually no grounds upon which to stand on and tell me to get a haircut."

When she doesn't stop smirking, he places the lock carefully across her nose, biting at his lips to keep back his own smile.

"Beautiful," he tells her.

"I know."

She blows at the curl, and when it does nothing, reaches to brush it away—except Lincoln is faster, catching her wrist and pinning it to the mattress with a chuckle he fails to hide.

"Uh uh. You complain about hair, you get exposed to the full hair treatment," he tells her, and his face is too close for her not to blow stubbornly at it.

"I will take you down, Sparky," she tells his far too gleeful smirk.

"You haven't had coffee yet," he responds, ducking his head even nearer to hers and lowering his voice, "I'm pretty sure you couldn't even take down Fitz in this state."

She has to fight laughter, this time shaking her head and succeeding in freeing her face of the curl.

"I know you think I love you enough that I won't tell Fitz you said that," she informs him, "but you are so, so wrong."

He laughs, in the full way that makes his entire face light up and her heart do little flips—relinquishing his hold on her wrist and sinking back into the mattress beside her. She follows his movements, turning her head so they are nose to nose, and she can watch his chuckles soften into that bright, full smile.

"I'm still telling him, even though you're adorable," she whispers, finding the little notch of gold in the ocean of his eyes and trying not to smile.

She cuddles nearer to him, pressing her forehead into the space beneath his chin and smiling softly when his arm works its way round her waist again, tugging her nearer as he buries his lips in her hair.

"I will even assist you in telling him," he says softly into her hair, "if you just please do not get out of bed yet."

She smiles a little harder, pressing her lips to his collarbone.

"I had no intention of going anywhere."