I.

Skye isn't really sure what's going on, only that they're waiting for May and Coulson to begin briefing them for some new mission. The usual blitheness of the room is gone, replaced by a worried tension that manifests itself as an out of place frown on Coulson's face.

Ward leans against the desk in his pajamas, obviously having been unaware of that morning's briefing. He's probably dying inside, Skye thinks; she's lost count of the number of times he has chastised her for wearing the same.

"Nice PJs," she whispers, and if looks could kill she'd be on her way to the morgue.

"Not now, Skye."

"Why not? No one's talking yet." She offers a proud smirk and raises one eyebrow. "I didn't know you had clothing this bright, cutie."

And of course she murmurs the last word right as everyone turns to glance at her, ready to begin. She doesn't need Ward's glare to kill her now, though, because she's about ready to die anyway. Fitz coughs conspicuously, and Coulson is shaking his head and grinning far too knowingly at her.

"Sarcasm!" Skye squeaks, subtly kicking Fitz under the desk. "Anyway, what's happening?"

II.

Skye has tried Robot, Robocop, C3PO, Marvin and just about every other robot name she can think of, and she can't imagine why Ward hasn't liked any of them.

She ponders this as she trains, hands wrapped and punching the bag to his rhythm. It's as tiring as ever, and she can feel the burn in her arms already. Skye breathes in deeply and halts to wipe her forehead, and Ward takes the pause as an opportunity to stop. "Good job. How about some sit-ups?"

"Really?" Skye can still feel the soreness from yesterday, and she fixes Ward with a pleading look. "Please, Wardie?"

She's not sure where the name came from, only that it fit with her puppy dog eyes and pouted lips. But he looks at her like she's grown another head. "Wardie?"

And his reaction — surprise, certainly, but not rejection — cements it. "Yep! That's your new name!"

III.

If Ward could have one wish, it would be for Skye to never try and cook again. As far as he knows, she's burnt pasta, exploded a cake, and lit a piece of toast on fire. And that's just when he's been in the kitchen.

So when Skye announces that she's going to make a sandwich — sadly enough, his wish didn't come true — he figures it's in everyone's best interest to follow behind her and offer his assistance.

She gets the ingredients out without killing anyone (he almost wants to clap) and then goes to toast the bread. This is his time, he realizes, and he stands to take the food from her before the fire department needs to be called. Only before he can do anything, Skye grins and holds it out to him.

"I know why you're here," she laughs. "Here, boo, toast the bread for me."

Ward is too shocked to move for a beat. Where'd she get "boo" from?

IV.

It takes Skye a good month or two of spending time with Ward to finally realize the truth: he's a total dweeb.

Fitz and Simmons were obvious about their nerdiness, but Ward liked to pretend he was macho, cool. Mr. "I'm a Specialist, and Specialists don't like Pixar movies," as Skye mimics.

But he totally does; he's a dork. And she plays to use this information well.

They're all down in the lab listening to Simmons explain the significance of a certain type of microorganism in preserving ancient materials, and Skye notices how intrigued Ward looks. Not just vaguely interested, but actually, genuinely into it.

It's adorable.

Skye leans over to poke his shoulder and get his attention. "This reminds me of that comic book you have. The one with the man-eating fungus." He looks at her in shock because, wait, she's been in his bunk reading his comic books?

"It… kind of does," Ward admits slowly.

"I knew it!" Skye claps happily, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. "You're so cute, dork."

They're all so used to the names she calls him by now that no one even blinks.

V.

They're called back the Hub, the message saying something about a team evaluation and briefing. Kind of creepy, in Skye's opinion.

Ward assures her that it's normal, that all teams are required to be evaluated once a year, and that it's not a big deal at all with someone like Coulson in charge.

"How do you know?" she teases. "You're the one who's never had to work in a team before."

He raises his eyebrow in concession but doesn't bother to comment.

And it's not a big deal; he was right, she admits. They're all sat down in a room and asked about team dynamics, potential problems, and past successes and failures. Skye says the presence of only two bathrooms on the plane is a major failure.

Ward scoffs. "It is a problem, but only because you take hours."

"Sorry, honey," she teases, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "It's not easy being this pretty."

(The reviewer writes "Trainee refers to SO as 'honey'" on her sheet.)