Rating: T for language
Pairings: Skye/Ward and minor Fitz/Simmons
This fic is a collaboration between Silverspoon and Welshwitch1011
Authors' Note: This is a crack fic - dreamt up and crafted in response to the utterly HIDEOUS season 2 finale that the fans were clubbed around the head with this week. We are shocked, disgusted, and absolutely appalled by the whole thing - but especially for the way in which Grant Ward's character has been decimated by Jeff Bell and the embarrassingly incompetent writing team.
In short, #GrantWardDeservedBetter, the fans deserved better, and Brett Dalton deserved better. Whilst we will continue to ship Skyeward and #StandWithWard, we can no longer watch the show.
We hope you enjoy this little attempt to let off steam, and if nothing else - you should totally leave this fic a Stargar shipper. ;)
For AngryLittleKitten - we hope this makes you smile, Maria.
Oh, and AOS writers - you all suck. (And Ward is totally Hellfire)
Jumping The Shark
The microwave had barely let out a tell tale 'ping' before Agent Fitz was throwing open the door in order to grab the smouldering bag of popcorn, which he tore open and hurriedly emptied into a bowl with very little concern for the second degree burns that were forming on his fingertips.
Running from the kitchen area to the lounge with his prize clutched to his chest, Fitz leaped over the back of the couch and landed next to Jemma with a grunt, spilling hot popcorn over his own lap in the process.
"Fitz!" Jemma scolded as she scooped up pieces of popcorn from the cushions with both hands, "you're dropping it."
"Shhhh, it's starting," retorted Fitz, his eyes now trained on the television screen that dominated the centre of the lounge. He cast a glance and an accompanying scowl to his left, where Skye and Ward were seated, bodies blissfully intertwined as they too watched the screen.
"You two better be quiet this time," he ordered, arching a brow at Skye as her mouth dropped open in protest, "especially you. You're the worst."
"I can be quiet!" protested Skye, ignoring the snort of derisive laughter from Ward, who dodged the cushion she attempted to beat him with just in time.
"When you're unconscious," he finished, eyes gleaming as he surveyed his girlfriend, pursed lips and tousled hair and all.
"You want to sleep alone tonight?" Skye teased good-naturedly, smiling despite herself as she reached out to grab a sharing bag of 'Hershey's Kisses' from the coffee table and busied herself with tearing open the plastic pouch.
Ward simply arched an eyebrow with a somewhat smug smirk on his face, as Skye settled back into his arms and leant her head against his shoulder.
"Ooooh, it's starting!" Jemma exclaimed excitedly, sitting forward in her seat as the TV screen was suddenly filled by a flashing montage of images, and a voice over heralded the beginning of the show.
From her seat at one of the tables behind them, May rolled her eyes. She sat with her book clutched in two hands, almost radiating disdain at the squeals of excitement her colleagues were emitting over the season finale of some ridiculous spy drama.
"I can't believe you guys are watching this stupid show."
Jemma's head snapped up and she regarded her friend through narrowed eyes.
"Agents of J.U.S.T.I.C.E. is not stupid!" she defended, a slightly inane smile overwhelming her features as she added, "the spoilers all hint at a character transformation and, personally, I'm just dying to see if Warner becomes Brimstone. I mean, he's even dressing like him! Now that would be absolutely thrilling!"
"I know, right?!" Skye chimed in, swallowing down a mouthful of chocolate as she exclaimed, "I ship StarGar so hard, I'm not even kidding."
"StarGar?" Ward repeated, craning his neck to present her with a confused and questioning gaze.
"Uh... Starr and Garth Warner?" Skye replied as though the answer should have been evident, "they're totally made for each other."
"They do have wonderful chemistry," Jemma enthused as she peered almost longingly at the screen whilst accepting the popcorn bowl from Fitz.
"But I thought they were pushing that new guy?" Ward inquired, his confusion evident as he glanced from Jemma to Skye and back again, "what's his name? Uhm... Lexus?"
"Ford!" the girls intoned in perfect unison, their derision evident as they both heaved dramatic sighs and shook their heads.
"He's like the dullest of the dull," Skye protested, wrinkling her nose before tossing a candy into her mouth. Jemma bobbed her head in agreement, her lips twisted into a scowl.
"I mean, really, they don't even have a decent ship name yet," Jemma stated, loftily concluding, "and a ship name is everything."
"My ship name for them is a gagging sound," Fitz helpfully added, his smile widening as Jemma giggled.
"He's a total tool," Skye agreed, supplying quickly, "with zero personality."
"Zero," Jemma confirmed, wrinkling her nose as the character in question appeared on the screen, and she resisted the urge to throw her popcorn in an act of protest. Obviously the show writers just didn't understand that they couldn't force a new 'ship' onto the viewers, no matter how many desperately awkward publicity shots they released on social media. If the fans weren't feeling it, it wasn't going to happen.
Keeping her eyes trained on the screen, Skye slid another chocolate into her mouth, offering the bag up to Ward.
"There's hardly any fanfiction out there about them," she added helpfully, as if that in itself was a death-knell for the mismatched pairing, "and there's a ton about StarGar. Hey, did you finish that lemon you were writing, Jem?"
"Fan-what?" Ward demanded, glancing first at Skye and then at Jemma, who had turned a violent shade of scarlet, "lemon?"
Grinning with obvious joy at the anticipated work of literary genius she had been awaiting, Skye helpfully craned her neck and whispered an explanation in Ward's ear, leaving the Specialist also looking somewhat ruffled and red-faced.
"It's always the quiet ones," he said with a smirk, glancing at Simmons as she sat back in her seat with a dramatic huff of indignation, her arms folded across her chest.
"Yes, well you'd be surprised where I get some of my plot inspiration from," she replied pointedly, holding his gaze until the full weight of her words had been absorbed.
Fitz chuckled gleefully to himself, chewing through his mouthful of pretzels so he could chime in. "Yeah, you know when we caught you guys doing... stuff... in the cargo hold..."
"Skye is remarkably forthcoming when we have 'girl talk'," Jemma crooned as she took a sip from a soda can and returned her gaze to the TV, where the opening credits were playing out.
Ward's expression was immediately horrified, and Skye's eyes widened as she mouthed 'Stop it. Stop!' to her friends, before again offering the bag of chocolate to her suddenly silent boyfriend as a peace offering.
Relieved beyond measure to see Coulson stroll into the room, Skye watched as he took a seat on the arm of the couch beside Ward. He glanced around at the plethora of snacks littering the floor and table, confused by the rapt attention with which the team all seemed to be peering at the TV screen.
"What are you guys doing?" he asked, squinting as he attempted to decipher the logo rising up behind an action shot of the actors.
"It's the Agents of J.U.S.T.I.C.E. season finale tonight," Jemma supplied helpfully, passing the bowl of popcorn, which the Director delved into with a shrug.
Coulson cast a discerning eye on the screen at the acronym plastered across the centre. "Agents of J.U.S.T.I.C.E?"
"Oh... It's the Joint United States Team In Case of Emergency," Fitz informed him, watching as Coulson mulled over the name with a frown.
"That doesn't even make sense!" he countered, earning a sudden and unified shushing from FitzSimmons and Skye.
"Guess someone really wanted the initials to spell out 'J.U.S.T.I.C.E.'," Ward stated wryly, wincing as Skye poked him in the ribs in a bid to silence him.
"Agent May, will you be joining us?" Coulson asked, turning to face his trusty second in command, who offered up a sneer in response.
"Not if my life depended on it," she retorted, shaking her head and not once lifting her eyes from the book she held out in front of her.
"It can't be that bad," Coulson reasoned as he peered at the faces of his team, all of whom, with the noted exception of Agent May, were watching the screen with palpable excitement.
"It's not that good either," Melinda countered from behind the pages of her novel.
"So, what's going on?" Coulson asked, sliding onto the couch between Skye and Jemma, who both obligingly scooted closer to their other halves in order to allow their leader a spot. Coulson cupped his hands in his lap and Jemma emptied a generous portion of popcorn into them, before turning back to the TV.
"That's Spy 69," Skye whispered, gesturing to the screen, which was now filled by the image of an impossibly glossy looking woman wearing altogether too much floral print to ever be considered a serious agent of anything.
"Yes, she and Garth Warner began a relationship two episodes ago, and now we're to believe they're desperately in love," Jemma scoffed, dramatically throwing her head back against the sofa cushions.
"He brought her a fern," Fitz chipped in, immediately earning an arched eyebrow from Coulson.
"A fern?" he checked, frowning at the prospect. As a general rule, he preferred to bring beautiful women flowers.
"Yep," Skye replied, popping the 'p' in her annoyance. She deepened her voice by several octaves and reached across Coulson's lap, quickly snatching up Simmons' hand and making a show of staring deep into the scientist's eyes, " 'I just can't fight this illogical and totally out of character attraction to you any more. Even though I just met you like, ten minutes ago, it's better when we're together... Baby."
Adopting a similarly wide-eyed and crazed expression, Simmons clasped her friends hands and stared in mock longing at the hacker.
"I'm just going to stare back at you and bask in your entirely out of character behaviour, ignoring the fact you're still blatantly in love with Starr, because... I am that needy and incapable of operating independently."
"Uh, yeah you are," Skye giggled, releasing Jemma's hands and settling back against Ward's shoulder as she threw her arm exuberantly around his torso and continued to smile at their joke. However, when the weight of just how far the writers had apparently taken her favourite character off the proverbial reservation struck her, Skye's expression fell.
"They better not sink my freakin' ship. I am invested in this crap," she sniffed.
Fitz shook his head, hoping his words would bring her comfort, "Nah, it'll be alright. The executive producer said Warner's storyline would be 'smart, compelling and respectful'. They'll pull it out of the bag."
"Hmm," Skye replied dubiously, "you have more faith in the writers than I do. This whole Warner/69 thing is just hideous, like... It's so fake it's funny."
"Oooh, maybe she's brainwashed him!" Jemma offered up, nodding to herself as she reasoned out her own logical explanation for the awful characterisation of late, "that would explain why Warner's been so remarkably out of character, and why there's this wholly unsettling and fake relationship playing out between him and 69."
"Maybe," Skye sighed, her face falling as she stared across at the television, "but now he's going to start being all Bond villain-y and torturing Bunny- who I hate, by the way."
"Bunny?" Coulson checked.
Fitz leant closer to his boss and gestured toward the screen, "Bunny Moore. She's Hansel's ex wife. Pretty nasty, duplicitous character, if you ask me. She betrayed Carlton...oh, he's the Director of J.U.S.T.I.C.E... and was a member of this splinter group called the 'Real J.U.S.T.I.C.E.' Anyway, she's the one who turned in Agent 69 to Medusa; they're the baddies... and so 69 got abducted from a J.U.S.T.I.C.E. safe house and she was tortured and brainwashed. It was pretty nasty stuff."
"Real J.U.S.T.I.C.E.?!" Coulson wrinkled his nose, ignoring all of the other convoluted plot details in favour of settling on this one horrible naming fail.
"Can you pass the pretzels... Baby?" Ward kept a straight face as Skye rolled her eyes and fished the bowl from Fitz's hands to pass to him. He accepted it with a grateful smile and a kiss to her temple.
"You gonna buy me a fern next? I hear girls really love it when guys buy them ferns," she mocked.
Ward appeared to think over this for a moment, examining the pretzel he'd picked out of the bowl before he stated decisively, "I was thinking maybe a cactus."
"Why, do you hate me? Did I do something wrong?" Skye demanded in mock panic, giggling as she tossed a pretzel at Ward, hitting him in the forehead.
"What is he..." Coulson began, staring at the screen aghast as he watched the scene of apparent torture unfold. He grimaced, shaking his head.
"I thought they said that this scene was supposed to be disturbing and graphic?" Ward inquired, his question sounding suspiciously laced with disappointment.
"You can get more graphic than shoving bloody great metal pins under someone's fingernails?" Fitz asked, looking somewhat nauseated by the drama.
"Well, he's doing it all wrong," Ward replied, hardly noticing the stare that Skye directed at him.
Simmons turned to regard the Specialist, one eyebrow arched as she inquired, "There's a way to do... That... Wrong?"
Ward's nod was vigorous.
"Sure there is."
The group fell silent, slowly all returning their attentions to the screen. Ward's voice contributed to the pained moans emanating from the TV only seconds later.
"I'd go in under the eyeballs."
"Oh my God, Ward!" Skye yelped, staring at her boyfriend through wide eyes as he simply shrugged, expression stoic.
Nobody saw the brief smirk of agreement that twitched at Agent May's lips.
Fitz's head snapped around in the couple's direction, and his expression was incredulous as he appeared to struggle to voice his horror adequately.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Ward lifted his hand toward the TV and simply shrugged by means of explanation.
"I'm just saying that that's a pretty weak torture scene."
"Sociopath," Fitz muttered, contemplating whether or not it was safe to return his gaze to the screen. At that moment he found both Ward and the on-screen action equally disconcerting.
Ward shook his head firmly, "Not a sociopath. Or a psychopath, for that matter. I'm perfectly capable of feeling emotion. I just don't walk around with my heart on my sleeve. It's not advisable in my line of work."
"Which... Let me just be clear here, doesn't involve stabbing pins into people's eyeballs, right?" Skye teased, smiling at the exasperated look he tossed in her direction. She snuggled closer to him despite the noticeably wary look Fitz was still holding him under.
Ward continued on, apparently undeterred, "I just wish they'd give this guy a break, that's all. He's an abuse victim, he's only what Gardner made him. He was nothing but a kid when he got hold of him. He deserves a second chance, and I'm kind of pissed that they've back-tracked on that whole redemption arc thing. What they're pretty much saying here is that if you're abused, you're gonna become an abuser. What kind of message is that sending out to people?! Agent Meg killed a kid, Bunny destroyed 69's life... But they're redeemable? This is bullshit."
Skye patted his cheek gently, realising how Ward might indeed draw some parallels to his own life and experiences with his former SO - who had shocked them all with his affiliation with Hydra.
"Sweetie, you're projecting," Skye informed him, softening the blow of her accusation with a gentle kiss against his lips.
Ward let out a sigh as he conceded, "My therapist says I do that sometimes."
"How's the therapy going, by the way?" Coulson inquired, managing to tear his attentions, albeit briefly, away from the show in order to affix Ward with an encouraging smile. "You know, if you ever want to talk or vent or... just get a hug... my door is always open."
Ward swallowed his mouthful of pretzels hard, looking vaguely terrified by the prospect. Instead, he flashed Coulson a tight lipped smile and nodded.
"I'm good, thank you, sir."
"This is all touchy and feely and very lovely, but if you lot don't shut up, we're going to miss it!" Fitz said, growing more irate as he leaned closer to the screen.
"Wait... What... Did she just say he shot Pal?" Jemma demanded, suddenly sitting up so quickly that she disturbed the bowl of popcorn in her lap and spilled it across Coulson's knee. She seemed barely to notice, however.
"No, no, that's not right!" Skye protested, accidentally delivering a swift elbow to Coulson's chest as she also shot out of her seat. "We already knew he didn't! No takesy backsies!"
A voice from behind them suddenly caught all the agents' attention; May's bored and weary tone broke through their collective gasps of irritation with its usual ring of authority.
"Warner did not shoot the damn dog. We already know it was Gardner who shot him... With a rifle. We saw him looking through the sight. Warner had a handgun, not a rifle. It was also why they paralleled him letting the dog go when he dropped KirkPatrick out of the plane. If he really did shoot the mutt, that whole scene was pointless."
Glancing up from her book to find all five faces trained on her with varying levels of surprise and amusement, May lowered her gaze back to the page and sighed heavily.
"Uh, yeah. What she said!" Skye agreed vehemently, sitting back with an increasing sense of anger welling inside of her. The much-hyped finale seemed to be playing out far differently than it had been publicised.
Ward shook his head angrily, his eyes narrowed as if he couldn't quite believe the nonsense playing out on the screen. "Now he's a dog murderer? Oh, come on!"
Suddenly lowering his gaze, he added wistfully, "I had a dog once."
"Honey..." Skye gently chided, squeezing Ward's knee as a silent reminder not to go there.
Letting out a pensive sigh, Ward apologised, "Sorry."
"Ugh, great, now we're back to Ford," Fitz sneered, shaking his head and actually giving in to the urge to throw a piece of popcorn at the screen.
"Why do you guys even watch this show?" Coulson demanded askance, "it seems like you hate pretty much every character on it."
"No, no," Jemma protested, "we love the original six, it's just..."
"Everyone's been kind of an asshole this season," Skye finished, earning a vigorous nod of approval from Simmons.
"So, what's this guy's deal then?" Coulson queried, gesturing to the man he assumed carried the unfortunate moniker of 'Ford'.
"He's about as interesting as milk," Fitz clarified, this time finding himself to have earned the collective incredulous stares of his whole team.
"What's wrong with milk?" asked Skye, obviously confused.
Fitz explained with a smirk, "I'm lactose intolerant."
However the action playing out on screen now caused his grin to fade into something that more closely reflected his distinct displeasure, and he glowered at the character whose face filled the frame.
"So Spy 69 is going to put Agent Meg's face back on again. This'll end well," Fitz observed, now entirely bored of that particular plot device. In fact, he was growing increasingly tired of the play the writers had clearly made on all of the fans. Not a single spoiler or promise had come to fruition, and he was starting to feel entirely cheated.
"Agent Meg?" Coulson asked, opening a can of soda and wincing as the whole team glowered at him for the minimally invasive noise.
"Margaret Meg; she's this entirely bad-ass spy, but she's taken on a very maternal role with Starr. Although this season her character's been all over the place." Skye frowned as she realised that practically every character had indeed seemed to have at least four personalities a piece this season- hardly any of them having been all that likeable.
Coulson paused, the soda can raised half way to his lips, "Margaret Meg? So she's... Meg Meg?!"
He quirked an eyebrow as he held back a smile and instead sipped his drink.
"If you're going to make fun of us you can just go sit in the cargo hold," Fitz stated, blinking as he suddenly remembered himself and added, abashed, "that is, you can sit in the cargo hold, sir."
"Oooh, oooh, hang on," Simmons demanded, flapping her hands as she appealed for quiet. She seized the remote control from Skye's hand and pounded the volume button, just in time for Spy 69's line to come blaring through the surround sound.
'I will always stand with Warner.'
Coulson recoiled against the sofa cushions at the collective gasp that rose up around him. The next instant, he found Simmons' nails embedded somewhat painfully in his left knee.
"They... Did... Not!" Simmons snarled, whirling around to face Skye with a near feral expression overtaking her usually pleasant features.
"Simmons..." Coulson choked out, attempting to pry the scientist's fingers open with his one free hand, "my leg!"
"Wow... shit just got real," Skye speculated, rolling the sleeves of her plaid shirt up as she squirmed in her seat, obviously irate about something.
"What shi... I mean, what?" Coulson demanded as he rubbed at the sore spot on his knee. It appeared as though even Fitz had adopted a similarly homicidal expression to the two women.
"I can't believe they did that!" Simmons exclaimed, her tone increasing in volume to the point where she was almost shouting, "I just... I can't... Ughhhh!"
"As Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., I demand an explanation as to why three of my agents look like they're contemplating utilising Ward's apparently advanced torture techniques." Coulson stared expectantly at Fitz.
Fitz placed his hand on Jemma's knee in an attempt to calm her, but she sat bolt upright, her fists clenched at her sides as she stared furiously straight ahead - as if daring the show to upset her some more. Judging from the hideousness of the finale thus far, Fitz thought at least a few more epic disappointments and annoyances were more than likely.
"There's a thing... 'Stand With Warner'. It's this fan group that was set up by people who like the character and support the actor. And that..." Fitz explained patiently.
"Was clearly a great big slap in the face to that section of the fandom by these incompetent, clueless, mentally deficient writers!" Simmons finished.
"Yeah. That." Fitz pointed towards his fellow scientist, as if she had more than adequately summed up all of their feelings on the subject.
"Amen, sister!" Skye enthused, tossing the bag of chocolates onto the table, as she found that the finale she had been anticipating all week had started to make her feel queasy with dread.
"This is just... Horrible," Ward moaned, his frown turning into a grimace as they watched Agent 69 get shot by the apparently psychotic Garth Warner, in a highly unlikely and convoluted plot that seemed to be one of many shock tactics the writers had employed for the episode. "This is just total character assassination!"
"It's bullshit, is what it is!" Skye snarled, propping her feet on the coffee table and folding her arms across her chest, as yet another ridiculous scene played out before them. "So all of that Brimstone foreshadowing- that was just to play with the fans, huh?!"
"I'm so disappointed," Fitz said forlornly, seeming genuinely upset by the direction the show had been steered in, "I feel so... So..."
"Betrayed!" Jemma and Skye chorused.
"Uhm... There, there?" Coulson murmured, awkwardly patting both women on the back simultaneously, but only succeeding in earning himself similar looks of fury. He retracted his hands quickly and without fuss, folding them in his lap instead.
"Don't encourage them, Phil," May scolded evenly, not bothering to glance up from her book, although Ward noted that she hadn't bothered to turn the pages for the last quarter of an hour.
Glowering, the four younger agents continued to stare at the screen, although their prior enthusiasm seemed to have been extinguished. Coulson wisely chose to remain silent, torn between wanting to watch what had proven to be amusing TV for all the wrong reasons, and his desire to beat a hasty retreat to his office, where he could lock himself in safely with his Captain America memorabilia.
"Wait, no, they're not seriously going to imply that..." Skye began, her mouth dropping open as she cocked her head at the screen.
"I think they are," Ward answered, screwing up the now empty pretzel bag and flinging it at the TV, ignoring the look Coulson shot him.
"Warner is gonna be the new head of Medusa?!" Skye reeled, pressing her fingers to her temple as she tried to process the absurd turn of events, "what the fu..."
"What? NO! NO!" Fitz yelled, a handful of pretzels raining down upon the screen as he refused to curb his dramatic outburst. "Of all the screwed up shit they could have gone with? Seriously? Who writes this utter bollocks?!"
Skye blinked, suddenly realising the possible implications for her beloved on-screen pairing. Gasping, eyes blazing with fury, she exclaimed, "They sank my ship! Those rat bastards sank my damn ship!"
Ward squeezed her gently, offering her a sympathetic smile, but Skye's nostrils flared as she glared at the television with an undeniably murderous glint in her eyes.
"This is awful. Just, awful," Simmons sighed sadly, "I... I'm absolutely bloody outraged! It's... It's just abhorrent. Vile. Implausible. Incoherent. Non-linear. Ridiculous!"
May snorted, her amusement fairly evident, but she barely blinked when four pairs of eyes affixed upon her.
"Oh please, don't tell me you didn't see this coming," May scoffed, finally lowering her book into her lap, "for the last half of this season, I could have flown the Bus through their plot holes."
"I guess she has a point," Simmons admonished, heaving a sigh so exuberant that the whole couch juddered as a consequence of the action.
"It's like the writers forgot what they wrote before hiatus," Fitz whined, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and very clearly having trouble coming to terms with the latest on screen developments.
"This show used to be great," Skye lamented, leaning closer into Ward's side and resting her head against his shoulder for comfort.
"How could they do that to poor Warner?" continued Jemma, shaking her head.
"I haven't always been the guy's biggest fan, especially after what he did to KirkPatrick... But he deserved a second chance. This evil crap is total bull!" Anger sparked, Fitz began a tirade that showed no signs of slowing, "He was a vulnerable kid who was abused his whole life. He was manipulated and brain-washed by this total asshole of a guy who turned him into something he wasn't. Warner's not evil, okay? He has feelings - he loves Starr, he couldn't bring himself to kill KirkPatrick even when Gardner tried to force him to, and... and he didn't kill the flaming dog!"
Skye bobbed her head in ready agreement, her own temper now well and truly frayed with the show.
"I know, right?! And he helped his old team out on that mission against Medusa. He was sorry for betraying them, and... and you know what? I just don't buy the whole Warner/69 crap. It was weak, it looked fake, it was totally out of character, and they're basing this lame-ass 'closure' thing on her dying? For real?"
"Ludicrous!" Simmons voiced her agreement, "abso-bloody-lutely ludicrous."
Ward held up his hand, as if he'd had time to process the motives and arguably insane reasoning behind the new reveal, and still found them desperately wanting.
"Hold on... So, the guy has decided to head up the same organisation that tortured and brain-washed his - admittedly crazy and totally implausible girlfriend - to wage war on his former friends, who only a couple of weeks ago he claimed he missed, including the woman who is arguably the love of his life? Because... He accidentally shot 69, and it seemed like a good idea at the time? I'm sorry, I fail to see the logic in any of that."
"At this point I'm frightened to ask what you'd do instead," Skye replied, shooting Ward a glance, "but you have a point."
"And can we talk about the fact that everyone, literally every man and his bloody dog are entitled to redemption and forgiveness, but not Warner?" Fitz demanded, only growing more agitated.
"Meg killed a child," Simmons agreed, "but forgiving her wasn't even a question."
"Oh and let's not forget Jim Quade," Skye snapped, her eyes blazing as she pointed a shaky arm at the screen, "he tried to kill Starr and now he's off living the high life somewhere with all his dirty money whilst Warner is being turned into the next Fuhrer."
"Now who's projecting?" mumbled Ward, shooting Skye a sideways glance.
"You, shush!" Skye directed, jabbing a finger in his direction, "this is just total sh..."
Skye paused, noting how all her friends were staring at the screen, no longer listening to her, and in the next instant a collective cry of horror flooded the room. This time, even Coulson seemed appalled.
"What did they just DO?" Simmons cried, slapping her hand across her mouth, whilst Fitz, Skye, and Ward all shrank back with varying expressions of disgust.
Coulson blinked, glancing at each of his agents in disbelief, "They just... Chopped that guy's foot right off."
"That's Carlton. The Director of J.U.S.T.I.C.E.," Skye rubbed at her eyes wearily, now utterly disgusted by the B-movie tone the whole show seemed to have adopted.
"The Director of a spy agency has one foot?" Coulson voiced, squinting at the television, "from an operational point of view that's just not gonna work. And seriously? They just randomly chop off body parts for ghoulish, immature shock value? What kind of show is this?"
"One I won't be watching any more," Simmons huffed glumly, tucking her feet up underneath herself and propping her chin in her hands morosely.
"Nope. I am out," Skye declared, pursing her lips and pressing her face into Ward's arm in an attempt to block out the truly awful reality of what she had just witnessed.
"Wait, wait, wait..." Fitz murmured, his eyes suddenly drawn back to the screen, "look, KirkPatrick! It's actually looking hopeful, guys."
"At this point, I just don't care any more," Ward muttered, shaking his head as he stroked Skye's hair and did his best to comfort her.
"Turn it up," May commanded, suddenly discarding her book and leaning forwards. At the askance looks she received from the rest of the team, she declared, "I ship these two."
"We've been waiting for them to get it together since the first episode," Fitz stage whispered to Coulson, who still seemed too fixated on the horrors he had been subjected to to comprehend much of what Fitz was saying.
"But... StarGar..." Skye whined, turning watery eyes upon Ward.
"It's a sci-fi show, they could still..." he began, finding himself silenced as Skye turned her teary gaze upon him and shook her head adamantly.
"Don't, don't even say it. This asshole producer seems to totally hate the Warner character. They don't even care what the fandom wants. They totally ruined his character with their stupid shit."
Ward paused, trying to find a way to cheer her up, yet he too felt the situation on-screen had reached the point where redemption for the poor, beleaguered Warner was looking unlikely; Unless he personally tracked down the writers and introduced them to far more productive methods of torture.
"Well... At least your second favourite spy isn't a bad guy?" he tried, hoping his charming smile would at least raise a smirk from his girlfriend.
Skye rolled her eyes but consented to laugh nonetheless and, choosing to ignore the final few moments of the show that was now thankfully nearing its end, she leant up and pressed her palm to his cheek to direct his lips to hers.
"Well, don't tell Garth Warner but you're my favourite super spy."
"Oh look, that's so sweet," Simmons cooed, "StarGar may be dead, but SkyeWard is still sailing strong."
"Don't do that," Ward demanded, his expression sobering as he shook his head in Jemma's direction.
"Yeah, that's just really weird," Skye agreed, frowning at her friend, who blushed as she looked away quickly.
"Dinner! They're going to go for dinner!" Fitz yelled triumphantly, pumping his fist and whooping delightedly.
"See, I knew those two would work out," May admonished from her seat, her single arched brow almost daring one of the team to mock her.
"Well, at least someone's happy," grumbled Skye petulantly.
"I still ship StarGar," Simmons whispered across the room to her friend in an act of shipper solidarity.
As if on cue, all agents' mouths dropped open and they stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the TV, as Jill Patrick - the ditzy yet super smart British scientist - was unwittingly pulled into the clutches of a giant alien tree.
Fitz gaped, looking dangerously close to hyperventilating. Seconds later, the bowl in his lap connected with the TV screen, followed - much to everyone's surprise - by May's book.
"What the hell was THAT?" May demanded, her usual non-expression crumbling as her features contorted with rage.
Simmons flapped her hands around, searching the air around her as she tried in vain to express the confusion, shock and anger she had suddenly been overcome with.
"Can nobody have five bloody seconds of happiness in this programme? How on earth are we meant to invest in characters and relationships when they dangle them in front of us and then whip them right back out from under our noses with some terrible, awful, plot of bloody unrelenting doom?!"
"Is May okay?" Skye hissed to Ward, drawing back into the protection his broad chest offered as she watched the aforementioned pilot and Specialist seethe from her seat, her hands balling into fists and her eye twitching.
"That was just... awful," Coulson floundered, his eyes impossibly wide as he continued to stare at the screen, even though the end credits had now begun to roll.
"The dog," Fitz muttered, his tone flat and emotionless.
"StarGar," Skye half sobbed.
"Patrick... And a man eating tree..." May snarled.
"That man's foot!" Coulson repeated, aghast. "They just... Hacked it right off."
The room fell into silence as each of the agents thought over the sheer, unbridled awfulness that had been the season finale. In short, it was an hour and a half of total, unequivocal, unequalled crap.
Suddenly grabbing her phone out of her pocket, Skye began tapping away on the device, earning questioning glances from her friends, who were all still sitting in varying degrees of shock laced with despair.
"Okay... We need to start a Twitter campaign for Garth Warner, you all need to get on it... This has to trend!" she instructed, watching with mild satisfaction as Simmons and Fitz instantly foraged for their phones about their persons.
"Hey, you too!" she ordered as she peered up at Ward, who offered her a snort of amusement at the very suggestion.
"I don't even have a Twitter account," he insisted, snapping upright in his seat as Skye dug in his pocket. She presented him with his phone and a stern expression that almost dared him to argue with her.
"So open one," she instructed, noting that even Coulson seemed to be busily scrolling and tapping away at his own cell.
Returning to her seat, May cast a furtive glance around the room, pleased to find her colleagues all immersed in their new cause. She slid her phone out of her pocket and pressed the 'Twitter' icon on the screen. Feeling all her pent up anger begin to flood from her fingertips, she typed in a suitably appalled post that was intended for the eyes of the obviously incompetent writers.
"Okay, I Twittered," Coulson declared, his smile small but genuine and undoubtedly pleased.
"Tweeted," Fitz corrected, shooting their boss a look that conveyed his disdain.
"Well, now what?" May demanded, holding her cell phone aloft and squinting at it as she debated the merits of tweeting online death threats, then decided quickly against it; she didn't want to forewarn anyone, after all.
"Now, we wait," Skye stated, flopping back against the couch with her own phone still clutched in her hand, "if people are as appalled as I think they'll be, they'll hop on the hash tag and pretty soon, we'll get some attention."
"But what do we do in the meantime?" Simmons inquired, looking to her friend for direction since Skye seemed to have taken charge of the situation where everyone else had fallen short of the challenge.
"I guess we go to bed," Skye huffed, "not that I can sleep after the horrors beheld."
"Honestly, why bother with all that publicity for StarGar if they were just going to..." Simmons agreed, suddenly shaking her head as she stopped herself, "no, I'm not going back there. I simply can't."
"I need to believe it'll work out for them... I just do," Skye shook her head sadly, "they're meant to be together."
Pouting through her misery, Skye stood up from the couch and extended her hand to Ward, who was instantly on his feet beside her.
"I'm going to bed, guys. I can't even think about this crap any more, it's making my head hurt."
One by one, the team all filed off to bed, leaving Coulson still perched in the centre of the couch, phone clutched in his hand. He picked up the TV remote from the table and lifted it toward the screen, forcefully stabbing the 'power' button.
"That was horrible, just horrible," he repeated, feeling a strange sense of solidarity with the now viciously maimed J.U.S.T.I.C.E. Director.
Rising from his seat, he strolled absently around the lounge area of the Bus and switched off the lights. May appeared to have fled back to the safety and sanctity of the cockpit, and the younger members of the team had retired for the evening - no doubt to rehash the events of the show and lament on the terrible plot twists via social media.
Leaning against the wall, Phil winced as he replayed the scene in his head.
"You just... You can't just chop a guy's foot off like that."
Lifting his head from his pillow with a groan, Grant Ward rubbed a hand over his eyes, and squinted against the blazing light of the computer screen that greeted him. He seemed to recall his girlfriend falling asleep in his arms - after a considerable amount of time had been spent debating over and generally picking holes in storyline of the now abandoned Agents of J.U.S.T.I.C.E. - yet now, she was apparently wide awake and clicking away furiously at her laptop.
"Skye?" his voice was hoarse and sleepy, and he yawned as he let himself fall back down against the double mattress and instead reached out a hand to blindly stroke his fingers up and down the small of her back. "It's... 3am."
Skye swatted her left hand in his vague direction, still typing with her right, as she stared at the screen.
"Just... Just one more Tweet," she insisted, gaze glued to the blue hue emanating from the laptop, "we're almost trending."
"Trending?" Grant repeated, unable to make sense of whatever techno language his girlfriend was currently speaking. "I don't..."
"Shhh, go back to sleep," Skye soothed, patting Ward's shoulder without bothering to glance at him, "it'll all be better in the morning."
"Skye," Ward wearily demanded, his eyes already half closing, "is this going to end with me torturing unsuspecting network suits tied to chairs?"
"Not today, honey," Skye replied, pausing only to shoot Ward a brief smile before she turned back to her screen.
"Although I kind of want to poke pins in my own eyes after watching that shit," she drawled, smiling as she re-read her newest tweet and hit the 'Enter' button with a flourish.
"Skye... It's late... Or it's early... One of those... Just, come on. This whole, horrible mess will still be there in the morning," he pleaded even as he fought back a yawn. He was beyond relieved to hear Skye close the lid of her laptop and to feel the motion of her bending to stow the computer under the bed.
"Garth Warner deserved better, Grant," Skye stated, fumbling in the dark for the bed covers, which she pulled up over them as she settled into his arms.
"I know," Ward replied, desperately attempting to stifle a yawn and failing, "maybe they'll fix it next season."
"Therapy is turning you into an optimist, you know?" Skye replied, chuckling as she allowed herself to be pulled against Ward's bare chest. His arm encircled her lazily and she breathed a sigh of pure contentment as he buried his nose into her hair.
"Mmmm, Starr doesn't know what she's missing," murmured Skye, happy to bask in the blissful moment, her eyelids fluttering closed as sleep threatened to claim her. "G'night... Hellfire."
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he stroked his fingers through her hair before brushing his lips tenderly against her forehead, "Get some sleep, Quake."
"Don't," Skye warned him teasingly, "I'm legitimately so pissed off right now that I could accidentally bring this damn plane down."
"May's suffered enough tonight without you taking her plane off her," Ward grinned, enjoying Skye's closeness and the sense of peace that always settled on him when they were alone together, content in each other's company. He also had to admit that he was deriving a tiny amount of pleasure from May's shipper related pain - although, he'd never admit it to anyone, he had also been totally on board with StarGar. Something about their plight had appealed to his more romantic sensibilities, and he saw a strange kinship in the character of Garth Warner that he wasn't sure he should admit to.
"I just wanted a happy ending for them," she explained sleepily, unable to shake off her anger at the unrelenting attack the writers had launched on her favourite character.
Wrapping his arms around her firmly, Ward dipped his head to seek out her lips, and he initiated a tender kiss.
"Hey, at least we got one."
"Eventually," she agreed, slipping her hand around the back of his neck and grazing her fingers up and down his skin, "although you had us all pretty worried for a while with the whole Garrett/Hydra/my crazy Dad, stuff."
"I know, and... I'm sorry. I'm loyal to SHIELD; you know that," he implored, his eyes finding hers even in the darkness, "but more importantly, I'm loyal to you, Skye... And I'll spend the rest of my life making all that other stuff up to you, I promise."
"Deal," she replied, sighing happily into another kiss before letting her head fall back sleepily against his chest, as her fatigue finally won out over her annoyance.
"I guess we just have better writers."