A/N: So let's just pretend that whole "real" S.H.I.E.L.D./Afterlife business never happened, okay? Okay.
Also, this is completely unbeta'd so please keep that in mind if you review. Title is from "Sweet Child O' Mine" by Guns N' Roses
It's one in the morning and Skye's stomach is rumbling. Despite being bone tired after a long day of training and working, she can't seem to shut her mind down long enough to doze off for a few hours. First, she tried doing some push-ups to tire herself out and that didn't work. Then, she tried to read from the flight manual May had given her but in the end she just ended up reading the same paragraph over and over again before finally giving up. Now, after trying every meditation technique May has taught her, Skye is hungry and frustrated because she can't find anything remotely appealing in the Playground's kitchen.
She is on the verge of abandoning her quest for a midnight snack when she hears two pairs of approaching footsteps and a familiar voice softly calling out her name. Although they don't catch her by surprise she still cringes when she see the director and her S.O. standing by the kitchen door wearing their PJs and worried looks on their faces.
"Skye, are you okay?" Coulson asks as he and May move to join her by the ancient refrigerator, the concern etched into his voice causing a nugget of guilt to blossom in Skye's chest.
"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep and then I got hungry but I couldn't find anything to eat and…yeah. Sorry," she quietly rambles in response, looking Coulson right in the eye, partly to reassure him that she really is okay and partly because she is trying very hard not to stare at the Captain America boxers May is so comfortably sporting under an oversized S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy sweatshirt.
Luckily, Coulson doesn't seem to notice her embarrassment because he simply gives her a reassuring smile and offers to make her hot chocolate.
"He makes the best hot chocolate," May tells her, reaching into the pantry and pulling a bag of chocolate chips out from behind a large stack of canned anchovies. "This is our top secret emergency stash and, as far as anyone who is not in this kitchen right now is concerned, it never existed."
The expression on May's face and the tone of her voice is deadly serious, but there is a playful gleam in her eyes that makes Skye smile excitedly.
Coulson had once told her about the Melinda May he knew before she became The Calvary, how she had been funny and warm but had lost herself one terrible day in Bahrain. There were times Skye struggled to see how May could ever have been a person anyone would describe as "warm", but now, after training with her for months, after everything they have been through, Skye sees it clear as day. She understands now that the person May was before isn't totally lost but buried deep, hidden away inside the shell she has created for herself and only ever comes out when she feels it is safe enough to do so. Skye has been seeing more and more of the old May these past few weeks and, judging by how much Coulson has been smiling lately, he has too.
Skye quietly watches as May assists him in his culinary endeavor, wordlessly passing him ingredients and utensils with practiced ease and then peering over his shoulder to watch the semi-sweet chocolate melt into the warm milk. She can spot the slight upturn in the corners of her mouth and she would have to be blind not to see the look of unabashed adoration May keeps throwing his way when she thinks he isn't looking.
Except he does. He catches her as she hands him the salt shaker. Seeing his dopey smile Skye realizes that right now she isn't looking at Director Coulson and Agent May, she is looking at Phil and Melinda, the people they are underneath the titles and badges and suits and all of the burdens and responsibilities that come with them. She is catching a glimpse of the people they were before Bahrain and New York and Hydra, before history lay down boundaries and carved out their paths for them. Skye feels a nice sort of ache blooming in her chest at the sight of them. It's a strangely comforting feeling and she thinks she would be perfectly content to just sit at the table and watch them while she waits for her drink, but naturally, curiosity gets the better of her.
"You put salt in the hot chocolate?"
"Just a pinch. It brings out the flavor of the chocolate," Coulson explains. "This is how my mom used to make it when I was a little boy. After my dad died we both had trouble sleeping, so we'd stay up and I'd help her make hot chocolate. I don't know what it is about this stuff, but it always did the trick. Half a mug and I'd be out like a light."
He ladles out the finished milky goodness into three dark blue mugs and with a cocky grin watches as both of his girls take their first sips.
"Oh my God," Skye quietly gasps, peering into her mug in wide eyed wonder. "Was your mom an Asgardian? Because this stuff is like the nectar of the gods."
"And so worth the wait," May adds, leaning back against the counter with a small satisfied smile. "Although, three months is a long time to go in between chocolate fixes, Phil."
"You're not going to enjoy it as much if I make it for you all the time, Melinda."
"Why don't you just teach her how to make it? It doesn't look like it's hard," Skye asks in between sips.
"Because it tastes better when he makes it."
"That's because it's edible when I make it," Coulson scoffs into his mug and then smiles kindly at the half-hearted glare May sends his way.
"Don't listen to him, Skye. I'm not that terrible of a cook."
"You broke my stove trying to make mac and cheese."
"No, I didn't. It was already broken."
"Really? Because as I remember, it was working just fine up until you came along."
Skye can't help the quiet giggle that escapes as she sits at the table, drinks her wonderfully delicious hot chocolate, and intently listens to her two favorite people in the whole world playfully bicker with each other. She learns more about her S.O. in the few minutes it takes her to finish her drink than she has in the past year and a half. She learns that May is what Coulson calls "a high-functioning chocoholic" and that she really is a terrible cook. She also learns that Coulson's mom used to call her "Meli" and that she was the one who introduced her to the Coulson family specialty during one quiet weekend visit home.
She wonders if this is what it would have been like to grow up with them. She imagines that life would have been filled with moments like this –grandma's hot chocolate in the middle of the night, listening to mom and dad teasing each other with funny anecdotes from their youth, and after they've finished drinking and everything has been put away, they send her to bed with a comfortably warm tummy and kissed cheeks.
Skye almost loses herself in her dream but manages to catch herself from falling too deep when May takes her surprisingly empty mug from her hands and she is overtaken by an oddly powerful yawn. She watches them as they quietly wash and put away the dishes and is mildly confused when they pull her out of her chair and lead her towards the bunks.
"Goodnight, Skye," Coulson tells her, carefully stroking a stray hair from her cheek as they stand in front of her door, his voice just barely above a whisper.
She feels May gently squeeze her shoulder. "We still have tai chi in the morning," she reminds her, giving her a sleepy smile and Skye just as sleepily smiles back.
As tired as she is now, she is still surprised when she watches them wordlessly walk into separate rooms.
Sometime later there is another restless night and once again Skye wanders into the kitchen looking for a snack. This time she is pleased and relieved to find May quietly sitting at the table, watching Coulson move towards the stove with a sauce pan in one hand and a bag of chocolate chips in the other.
"Hey! Get the milk, sugar, and salt," he tells her in greeting. "It's time someone else learned the family recipe."
That night Skye starts to think that maybe some dreams really do come true.
A/N 2: