notes:
+ more dark!skyeward fluff, set in the assassins "hide in sin" universe of "when these bones decay" etc. (seriously why has no one stopped me yet?)
+ no one ever let these two become parents. they would be awful.
+ title from "stubborn love" by the lumineers.
"I've got her," Skye says through comms. "You in position?"
"Yes." Ward trains his rifle down on the man in the building across the street, putting him between the crosshairs. The window is even open, which means no shattering glass. No one will notice anything is wrong.
He can see Skye a few windows along. She's got a gun out (though he's pretty sure she won't use it). She's in the corridor, waiting outside the bedroom door of their targets' house for his signal.
"On three," he says. He sees her nod. "One, two, three."
His sniper rifle hardly makes a sound and the man falls quietly. He sees Skye shoulder the door open, hears a scuffle and a whimper through his comms, and then silence. Easy.
"Done," Skye says. "I'll collect the package and meet you at the end of the street in ten."
"Copy." Ward starts to pack the rifle away, clean up after himself.
"Fuck." Her voice jars him, cutting through the silence.
He freezes. "Skye?" he asks, concerned. "Is everything okay?"
"The package, Ward," she says. There's something in her voice he can't place.
"What about it? Is there a problem?" Maybe someone has got to it before them. Their missions was to cleanly kill the couple and fetch the package from the bedroom. If they've failed, there will be no pay for them. And a big black mark against their perfect reputation.
"The package," she says again. "What was it that they told you it was again?"
"They didn't. Just that it would be in the main bedroom, against the back wall. Obvious. Why? Is it not there?"
Skye laughs. "Oh. It's there."
"Then what's the problem?"
"It's a baby."
"Fuck," Ward says, echoing her sentiments from a few moments previously.
He can hear her shuffling about, picking up the child and making little cooing noises to calm it. He finishes packing up and wiping down his hide.
"Skye," he says suddenly, realisation hitting him. "We don't meet with the client to drop off the package for another week."
There's silence on the other end, followed by a groan from Skye and a wail from the baby. "Oh no," she mutters.
She meets him at the corner. The baby is tugging at her hair, and it grabs for the knife just inside the fold of her jacket twice.
"Help," she says. "Take it."
"No," he says, starting down the road towards the car. "You found it. You hold it."
"It's your fault for not asking what the package was," she retorts. "You should take it."
"I'm sorry," he says, sarcastic. "I don't normally need to clarify that we're not being put on babysitting duty."
She huffs, adjusting the baby's position on her hip. "Fine." She bops the baby on the nose. "I'll just look after you then," she says, her voice going all squeaky, and it's ridiculously disconcerting to see one of the world's best killers go all googoo. "If the nasty man won't." She shoots Ward a glare.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asks, since thinking of it as an it for a week isn't going to work.
"I don't know," Skye says. She pulls at the waistband of its trousers to look.
"Not here," Ward snaps. "You're not exactly going to look like its mother doing that."
She frowns, checking anyway. "Girl," she announces. "And do you really think we could pass as her parents?" She holds the baby a little away from her so as to get a proper look at her. She's got tiny, smooth dark curls, big brown eyes, and a tiny, adorable nose that could definitely be Skye's. "Hmm," she says. "I suppose."
They slip down into an alley and into the car they have waiting. Skye bounces the baby on her knee while Ward drives to their safe house, half an hour out of town.
"What about a name?" Skye asks. The baby is knawing on her fingers, and master killer can't seem to bring herself to make it stop. "What are we supposed to call her?"
"I don't know," Ward says. "Her real name?"
"Oh, which you know?" Skye raises an eyebrow at him.
"No," he admits. "But we could find out."
Skye looks uncomfortable. "Couldn't we just come up with something else?" she asks. "It just feels…" She trails off, but looks at Ward with big eyes, knowing he'll get it.
"Fine," he says. "But I don't know how to name babies."
Skye's face lights up, and he can see all the different possibilities spinning before her. He should warn her not to get attached, that they only have the girl for a week before they have to give her up to who knows what fate.
He doesn't. This is Skye. He knows she'll manage.
"How about Lucy? Charlotte? Sarah?" Skye tries.
"I like Sarah," Ward says. "But only without the H at the end."
Skye raises an eyebrow at him. "Seriously? It's not like we're actually going to be writing this down."
He shrugs noncommittally, focussing on the road (and definitely not any possible childhood memories or wishes that he might definitely not have).
He turns into their safe house while Skye coos Sara's new name at her. It's a little suburban place - two floors, a garden out the back, and a basement filled with assorted weaponry.
Skye lets them in, and stands in the middle of the living room. "What do I do with her?" she asks. "Aren't you supposed to put them in a… thing to stop them hurting themselves?"
"Put her on the floor for the moment," Ward says. "There's nothing dangerous up here."
Skye gently sets Sara down, but the second she touches the floor, the baby starts crying. Skye kneels on the floor next to her, looking up at Ward with a look that could only be described at abject terror.
"What do I do?" she asks.
Ward sits down beside her. "I have no idea," he admits. He tries tickling her stomach, but Skye swats his hand away.
"She's not a dog," she snaps. "Maybe she's hungry. What are we supposed to feed her?"
"Milk?" Ward suggests.
Skye frowns. "I'm pretty sure you can't just give them normal milk." She stands up, taking Sara with her. "Shopping time, Daddy Ward."
She waltzes back off out the door, and Ward follows after her (taking a quick moment to pretend he is utterly, totally fine, and that once upon a time he did not think that was a possibility).
They wander round Mothercare, with Skye still bouncing Sara on her hip, pointing to things for Ward to take. A crib, tubs of formula milk, a playpen, a sling, bottles, and a fluffy bunny that Ward is pretty sure they could live without, but Skye insists upon.
Unfortunately, the cashier sees them leaving with a trolley full of unpaid for goods.
Skye's hands are a bit full with Sara, so Ward takes care of him, with a cleanly snapped neck. Sara watches with a look of vague disinterest while Ward drags the man into a storage closet. In the car, Skye wipes the camera feeds from her phone.
They pile their purchases on the living room floor. Skye sets about making up formula milk while Ward puts the playpen and the crib together, while Sara lies on her stomach beside him.
"Here, Sara," Skye says, kneeling down next to them. "Food." She scoops the baby up into her lap and holds the bottle while Sara drinks. Ward can't help feeling a little warm inside, watching the two of them. It's a bit of an issue.
Sara yawns, stretching and grumbling. Skye giggles. "Bedtime for baby?" she coos. "Is that ready?" She jabs a finger at the crib, and Ward nods.
He takes it upstairs to the bedroom and Skye follows behind, with an almost-sleeping Sara snuggled into her shoulder. Skye puts the bunny into the crib with her, and observes her, head tilted to one side.
"She's awfully fragile," Skye says. "More than most humans."
"Yes," Ward agrees, sure that she's lost inside her own head and has probably forgotten he's there.
"I don't want to hurt her, though. Most humans, when they're that weak, I think about how easy it would be." Skye sighs softly. "I want to protect her, though." Ward loops an arm around her waist, tugging her towards him. She looks up at him. "Is that a problem?"
"Probably," he says. He's not going to lie to her. They can't afford attachment to anything except each other.
She hums, leaning her head back against his shoulder. "Oh," she sighs again. "What do I do?"
"I think," he begins, "that we might just have to let this one happen. It's not like we can kill it." She nods in response, and he kisses the top of her head.
When he wakes, at the beginning of the second baby-filled day, Ward finds Skye still asleep beside him. It isn't unusual. It isn't unusual, either, that she appears to have been lying on his arm all night, so that it is now completely numb. He slides it out from under her and moves across the room to check on Sara.
The baby in question is already awake, gurgling quietly and staring up at him. Ward lifts her out of the crib and holds her to his chest. He tells himself it's so she doesn't wake Skye if she starts crying.
He takes her downstairs and gives her a bottle while he makes himself coffee and toast. Then he takes her and the playpen downstairs into the basement.
No safe house is complete without a bunker/weapons store/shooting range in the basement. It's really a big old wine cellar with a little soundproofing, a first aid kit, a lot of boxes of ammunition, and a couple of targets at one end.
He takes a pistol, aims, fires.
The gunshot echoes round the room, louder than he'd been expecting. He glances back at Sara, waiting for her to start crying, but she's watching him with a look of interest in her big eyes and a smile on her face.
He laughs. Skye must be rubbing off on the little girl. All he can see is her in Sara's expression.
"You like that?" he asks her. He takes another shot, and she waves her arms up at him, grinning.
He picks her up, holding her in one hand and the gun in the other. He fires without looking, because screw you, he will show off to a baby if he wants.
She giggles and beams up at him. There is absolutely no warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach. That would be weak, irresponsible.
Skye comes down forty five minutes later, and Grant Ward successfully perfects the sheepish about baby in one hand and gun in the other look.
She folds her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "And what are you doing?"
"She likes it," he protests, and Skye laughs.
"Fine," she says, picking up a knife and testing the weight in her hands. "Give her to me for a minute."
Ward passes Sara over, and Skye holds her against her side with one arm. "Ready baby?" she asks, going to stand in the middle of the floor.
Sara gurgles in response, which Skye seems to take as confirmation. She flips over in a move that Black Widow would envy, and lands the knife squarely in the centre of the target.
Sara squeals in delight.
It would be incredibly reckless of them to play with knives, guns, and perform complicated fight sequences while holding a baby for the entire day.
They absolutely do.
Sara spends most of the fourth night wailing. Skye and Ward start by taking turns in trying to lull her back to sleep, but by three am both of them are singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" while Skye rocks her and leans against Ward to keep herself upright.
In the morning all three of them are too tired to function.
Which is saying something. Skye and Ward once had to spend four days straight awake, walking across Eastern Europe with three different government agencies on their tail, after their ride and their cover were both spectacularly blown to smithereens.
Babies are just new levels of exhausting.
They spend most of the day curled on the sofa, criticising James Bond movies. Sara gurgles excitedly and wiggles her legs every time something explodes, and Skye insists on covering the baby's eyes every time Daniel Craig gets his top off.
It's fine for her to watch them killing people, but partial nudity is a step too far.
The seventh day they wake with a sense of gloom hanging over them, but neither mentions it. They pack their bags, not planning on heading back to the house afterwards, which is filled to the brim with Sara.
They drive to the drop site with Sara lying on Skye's chest. She's stroking the baby's back, murmuring softly. Ward has to focus to keep himself looking at the road and not the two beside him.
They pull into a near-deserted parking lot. Skye gives Sara one last squeeze and hands her over to Ward.
"Bye baby," she says, as he gets out of the car. He puts the bunny into Sara's hands as he walks her through the quiet building. She gives him big sad eyes. Or he might be imagining it.
There's a briefcase at the end of the car park, and he knows it's for him. He takes it and leaves Sara in its place.
She starts to cry.
He pretends he can't hear, and doesn't look back.