This is me ignoring the lack of Skyeward recently. Also ignoring the friends with benefits situation going on between Mayward. Hope you enjoy!

"You ready?"

"About as ready as I was the last two times you asked," she replied angrily. "Which means, not ready."

He had been waiting outside her bunk for only five minutes and was already impatient. Life would be easier if women could get dressed as fast as men can, he thought.

"Hurry up, he said, with no actual hope that she would. "Fitzsimmons is waiting to set up our comms."

"Come in, I can't zip up this damn thing alone," she complained.

What he found when he opened the door was Skye struggling to completely zip up the dress—the zipper was stuck near her bra clasp.

She held her hair, giving him space to zip up the dress as quickly as he could, trying not to touch her skin for some reason while mentally cursing whoever made such a fragile zipper.

"Done. Anything else?" He had faith she was finally prepared to leave.

When Skye turned to him, though, he decided that the wait had been worth it—she looked stunning in a blue plain dress long enough to touch the ground, hiding the heels that she was certainly wearing, judging by how close she was to his height, contrary to their usual height difference. Earlier, when the team had been planning the mission, she'd refused Simmons's offer to do something in her hair. Ward was glad, since he liked the way her long hair flowed naturally over her shoulders. The amount of makeup in her face was as unnecessary as a fancy hairstyle, both of which she didn't need. This was the prettiest Ward had ever seen Skye, something he wouldn't admit.

"You could've picked a shorter dress," he said as an excuse for having checked her out awkwardly. However, his attempt only made it worse once he realized how badly he had expressed his tactical thoughts. She glared at him in a daring way as her lips curved into a smirk. "I mean, in case we need to run."

"I'm wearing a long dress for the same reason you're in this good-looking tuxedo instead of jeans and a shirt. Do you understand anything about dress codes?" She mocked, and then her eyes widened like she'd just remembered something. "Just one more detail." Skye turned around and grabbed a silver belt, wrapping it around her waist.

"Great, that really changes everything," he said, indifferent. "Ready to be Henley?"

"Well, I am," she guaranteed. "If you're ready to be Daniel for a night."

Earpieces in place and the fake couple was safe to go. The plan was quite simple: their goal was to hack into security system of the place and find out what else was happening there. All they knew was that, at the benefit gala they were heading to, a Chitauri weapon was going to be used. As to what for, they had no idea—it could be to hurt a guest or to blow the entire place up. They had agreed it would be more effective to send in two undercover agents instead of letting three field agents bust the party with guns and no knowledge of the situation's level of seriousness.

Everything was ready. Time to go.

"Good luck, guys!" Jemma Simmons said in her usual excited state. There weren't a lot of things able to destroy her great mood, except for a Chitauri virus.

Fitz, on the other hand, wasn't as confident in Skye and Ward's ability to pretend to be a couple as much as the other half of Fitzsimmons. "Please make an effort not to get yourselves killed," he asked as the undercover pair entered the S.U.V.'s back seat.

Coulson settled beside the driver's seat, occupied by May. Fitzsimmons was staying in the bus to monitor the security cameras and help the fake couple through the comms, while the two field agents left in the car would be waiting to go in as soon as they were informed of the criminals' plan—or they would be backup in case something went wrong with the operation.

"Thanks for the helpful tip, Fitz," Skye said sarcastically before closing the window of the car.

The ride to the mansion that was hosting the gala was half an hour long. That was enough time for the level 7 agents in the car to qui Skye to the point where she started feeling actual anguish about the operation.

"What are your names?" Coulson asked with no eye contact between him and Skye.

"Henley Clark and Daniel Hastings," Skye answered mechanically, knowing she was the one being tested. Ward had gone undercover a few times before, and no one doubted he was able to remember a few facts about his covert identity. On the contrary, Skye had volunteered herself in order to prove she was trustworthy and capable of completing a mission.

How long—"

"Two years and three months," she cuts May halfway through, as she knew what the question was beforehand. "We met in Los Angeles three years ago and started dating almost a year later. I work at the I.T. department of a company there... Daniel is a lawyer and hella rich, thanks to his father's inheritance, and may Michael Hastings rest in peace in his fake grave." She said ironically. "Is that all?"

"Why are we here?" Ward inquired.

"You're here because you're a specialist and I'm here because Simmons is a terrible liar." Coulson and Ward's cold gazes made it clear that it wasn't time for sarcasm. She sighed out loud before reciting: "We are on vacation here in France and were invited for this annual benefit gala at Arthur Blanchet's mansion."

Ward, Coulson and May exchanged looks that Skye couldn't translate until her S.O. slash boyfriend for the night addressed: "Sir, I think she's ready."

"Welcome to the 7th Annual Benefit Gala at the Blanchet Mansion!" The hostess greeted them in a heavy French accent. "We hope you enjoy the evening, Mr. Hastings and Mrs. Clark."

"We certainly will, thank you," Ward replied politely.

They made their way into the ballroom, mentally scanning all the hallways they could go through if in need of an escape route. Ward was fairly concentrated on his task until Fitzsimmons's voices interrupted his thoughts through the comms.

"Practically the entire place is covered by cameras, lucky for you," Simmons said in between crunchy chewing noises. "And I can see the two of you not looking like a couple."

"Not at all," Fitz confirmed. "It feels like you're opposite poles of a magnet.

They both moved closer to each other at the same time, causing their shoulders to bump. Skye stifled a chuckle as she saw Ward rolling his eyes. He awkwardly put his hands around her waist.

"Perfect. Now smile," Fitz ordered, and Skye knew he had a grin on his face even though she couldn't see him.

Her fake boyfriend looked confused for a moment before curving his lips into a soft half-smile. Skye couldn't help the giggle that followed.

They finally entered the elegant ballroom, and the place pretty much smelled like rich people. The hall was filled with well-dressed men and women, some of them dancing harmoniously to the sound of a classical band playing in the corner.

A waiter immediately approached them. Ward—or Daniel—politely took two glasses of champagne out of the tray, cordially handing one of them to Skye with a smile on his face. She could barely contain the urge to laugh at me—cheerful Ward was hilarious.

Skye was having lots of fun planning ways to embarrass him. After all, it wasn't everyday she had the opportunity to say whatever she wanted to her S.O., and he couldn't do a single thing about it, since they were passing as a couple.

She looked delighted as she stood on the tips of her toes to straighten the lapels of his jacket, and then whispered in his ear: "You look very handsome in this tuxedo, Danny."

Ward wasn't sure if the remark had come from Skye or from Henley, but her fake personality had only agreed with the real one about him looking quite attractive.

"You look dazzling as well, sweetheart," he replied sarcastically.

"Look at you two all couple-y," Simmons said, overjoyed. Ward wished he could tell her to shut up without looking like a lunatic.

"There's a guy staring at you two, don't do anything stupid," Fitz warned. Skye itched to look around; instead, she gazed passionately at her fake boyfriend and brought up her glass to take a sip of the champagne.

"Don't drink," he instructed in a whisper, lifting his glass too. "We can't drink except if highly necessary.

She kept an observant eye on his lips as they met the glass. When the champagne touched his mouth, he didn't take his lips away from the glass, so it looked like he was drinking it but nothing actually went into his mouth. To keep the illusion, he swallowed saliva. Skye did the same carefully.

"This is great," she said, so it looked like she was talking about the taste of the beverage in case anyone had heard them, when she was actually referring to the trick she had just learned.

"That guy is walking toward you," Fitz said nervously. "We ran facial recognition on him, so you can pretend to know who he is."

"His name is Frank Dufort, from Dufort Softwares, founded by his grandfather," Simmons explained. "Lives here in the country… I don't know whether he speaks English or not."

"Bonsoir!"

The guy greeted them nicely—maybe even too nicely. He shook Ward's hand and exchanged kisses on both cheeks with Skye. Her face at the second kiss almost made Ward laugh—she wasn't sure if that was common for the French and she was too wary.

"You Americans?" He said in a heavy accent.

"Yes," Ward answered. "I'm Daniel Hastings, and this is my girlfriend, Henley." He put his hands around her waist, gently pulling her closer.

"Nice to meet you," Skye added as the guy smiled a bit excessively at her.

"Frank Dufort, very pleased to meet you," he introduced himself slowly, clearly not used to the language. "What bring you to France?"

Skye and Ward exchanged a quick look like they were deciding who should answer. When he was about to start, though, she said:

"Well, he says he's here for business, but didn't complain when I took him to the Orsay Museum two days ago," she joked spontaneously and watched as Ward laughed, pretending to be slightly annoyed by the comment. The Dufort guy laughed a bit too loud, making Skye wonder if he had understood a word she'd said and wasn't just shamelessly flirting with her. Or with Ward—who knows?

Frank Dufort suddenly peered at the band and smiled, as if the song that had just started pleased him. He then turned to Ward and asked something in French. Skye didn't understand what he said, but it made Ward embrace her more firmly, which nurtured her curiosity. She had no idea what Ward's answer meant either, but it evidently hadn't amused Dufort. The French man nodded respectfully as if saying goodbye and walked away.

"What did you say?" She asked in a low tone.

"Nothing important," he promptly replied. Skye didn't have time to point out that she was sure he had lied, though. Ward called a waiter with a gesture and handed him both of their full glasses. He grabbed her hands and a smile lit up his face in contrast with the uptight look in his eyes. "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

"What?" She let it slip in shock before recomposing her-Henley-self. "I can't dance. I'm awful at this, I just—"

"No problem." He rested a hand on her waist, leading her into the center of the ballroom, where pretty much everyone was dancing now. "Just follow my moves."

"Your moves," she mocked him, trying to mask her anxiety. Skye had never danced like this with someone. She was certainly going to make a fool of herself.

In addition, she could hear Fitzsimmons's low giggles through her earpiece. She imagined them watching the security cameras, eating popcorn and having fun like kids at the movies.

"I swear, when this is over and we go back to the Bus, I will lock Fitzsimmons in the utility closet for a week." They didn't answer, but she knew they'd heard her when the giggling stopped.

As soon as that song finished and another one started playing, Skye slid embarrassingly into Ward's arms. She felt her heart leap a little when his hands settled on her back. They were probably the slowest, clumsiest couple to ever step on that ballroom. He knew what he was doing, while she looked like she had two left feet.

"Guys, the hallway that leads to the control room is right in front of you… The one next to the reddish painting," Simmons said. Meanwhile, Skye and Ward whirled around the perimeter of the dance floor. "As you already know, though, there's nothing else in the end of that path, so you'll have to be discreet and careful."

"We can do that," Skye assured, more like trying to convince herself than Fitzsimmons.

"The inside of the control room obviously isn't covered by cameras, so we won't see you and we don't know how many guards are in there," Fitz continued. "It's a small space, though, so I'm betting on two, three at most."

"How many outside?" Ward asked, unconsciously moving closer to Skye to the point where they weren't even dancing, just circling. Not that they were dancing before.

"A bunch, Arthur Blanchet's a paranoid! There are two up that big stairwell, two in the main entrance, and one covering each hallway, including the one you need to go through." The biochemist described.

"Good news is:" her engineer partner went on. "The guard in that specific hallway keeps sneaking out to smoke. So unprofessional. Start moving closer and we'll warn you when he's out."

"Does this mean we have to keep dancing until the guy decides to smoke?" Skye murmured desperately. "Also, I'm hungry and the food here is too fancy for me. Can we get fast food after this?"

"Focus, Henley!" Ward emphasized.

"Sorry, dancing isn't my thing."

"You don't say," he bittered.

"Well, next time you think about dragging me to the dance floor… Don't." She accidentally stepped on his foot. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing and start laughing at yourself," Simmons advised. "This isn't a dance competition! Henley and Daniel are just having fun."

Skye followed the other, gazing at her uncoordinated feet and letting out a chuckle.

"This is harder than hacking into SHIELD was."

Ward rolled his eyes. "Apparently you can't stay in character for more than five seconds, so, new plan: you stay quiet as we dance. Okay?"

"Rude, man," she teased in an attempt to contain a grin. Another song ended and was followed by an even slower one. "I'm going to fall asleep."

"Great," he replied, suddenly pulling her closer. Skye's only option was to rest her cheek against the soft fabric in his shoulder, forcing Ward to smell the vanilla scent of her recently washed hair. She shyly placed a hand on his nape, leading to him twitching his head uncomfortably at the touch.

"God, I forgot you were so ticklish," she muttered with a smirk.

"Sorry to interrupt the lovely moment you two are clearly having…" They heard Fitz's voice in their ears.

"The security guard is leaving now. You're clear to go." Simmons affirmed. "Be careful!"

Perfect timing. Neither of them could handle any more of that dancing weirdness.

"Finally," Ward said as they separated. "Now we act."

So, this story ended up getting way longer than I expected, so I divided it in two chapters and the second one is pretty much double the size of this (like 4 thousand words). I'll be posting it maybe later or tomorrow!
Also, I'd like to thank my friend ( lovegkp on Twitter) for some ideas and motivation to write this (and begging me to write more jealous!Ward.) Thanks, Be!