Hi, and welcome to 14 days of CNY fic! (Well. Technically it's the lunar, but I'm Chinese, so...) There's one new chapter a day for the 14 days of the new year, so here we go!
As the sounds of shooting emanated from the range, Lincoln flattened himself against the wall outside the door, a drop of sweat running down his forehead.
Yup. Not a good idea. Really not a good idea. Should've thought of this beforehand. Still, he'd come this far. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself, quietly walking into the range. May was standing alone in one of the booths, large red headphones over her ears as she emptied a .48 into a target at least ninety feet away.
He waited until she stopped firing, then quietly tapped her on the shoulder. "Agent May...?"
She whirled on him, pointing her gun even though it was empty (she figured he didn't know it was empty). When she saw it was Lincoln, she lowered her gun, but not her weary countenance. "Yes, Lincoln?"
"Uh...so here's the thing..." Lincoln, suddenly nervous, looked down as he shifted from foot to foot. "So, this time last year, you know as well as I do I was on Afterlife, and, see, Jiaying sort of had this tradition that we all partook in..."
"Just spit it out, Campbell." May's slightly amused tone filtered through his rambling. It really was funny how they were all so scared of her - just last week, Joey had dropped an entire bowl of chips onto the kitchen floor just because she'd asked him to pass the popcorn.
"WecelebratedChineseNewYearonAfterlifeandIwaswonderingifyoudidtoo." The words rushed out in a rumble, and May cocked her head in confusion as Lincoln continued. "Of course, I wouldn't want to impose, so, uh, I'll just be going, I think I hear Skye calling my name anyways -"
"Lincoln." May's use of his first name stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to look back at her. May was still standing there, although, thankfully, she'd put her gun down. "I usually don't," she admitted quietly. "No family to celebrate with."
"Well, maybe you can celebrate with us this year," Lincoln suggested, slowly walking back into the room, his palms open. "The team could always use some bonding, and frankly, I'd like Skye to figure out a little bit of where her culture came from." May nodded, her mind already whirring. There'd have to be some threats made. And lots of things acquired. Damn. She'd have to hunt down a chicken.
"I think it's a good idea," she said finally, and Lincoln exhaled audibly, tension leaving his shoulders. "Tell you what. You break it to the rest of the team, and I'll go get the first set of red envelopes. Deal?" Lincoln nodded, and May turned back to her gun, disassembling it and cleaning up the shells.
"Oh. We're celebrating Chinese New Year?" Skye asked curiously as she stared up at the holotable an hour later. The entire team (save for May and Coulson) was gathered in the room, staring at the large circle of zodiac animals.
Skye looked at Lincoln nervously, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "I've never celebrated it," she admitted, looking down. "Never had a foster family that actually cared enough to celebrate it, and I couldn't really afford it when I was living in a van. To be honest, I'm surprised May agreed."
"Chinese New Year is all about family, Skye," he said, looping an arm around her shoulders. "I figured, since you sort of lost your biological family a little too quickly, you could cement the tradition with your other family." He gestured to the team, who was all starting at the circle of animals in fascination.
"Oh," Skye murmured again, and she swiped at her eyes slightly. "Jus' allergies," she sniffed quickly to the team, when Simmons looked at her concernedly. Her eyes told a different story when she looked at Lincoln. "Thank you," she whispered.
He let her bury her head into his side.
"So just how are we supposed to find out our signs?" Simmons' scientifically curious voice filtered through the silence, and they all turned to look at her. Skye shot Simmons a grateful look, thankful for the distraction.
"Take the year you were born and divide by 12," Lincoln tells them all, pulling up a blank space on the holotable to demonstrate. "So here, I was born in 1985, long division by twelve, remainder of five." He quickly sketched out the math. "Makes me an ox." The rest of them nodded, except for Skye, who quickly jumped out of his embrace.
"Wait, you're how old?"
Simmons
"This is fascinating, really," she murmured as she examined the circle of animals, a pencil and paper on the holotable in front of her. "How did the twelve animals get chosen? Which species are they? And how did they determine the order?"
"Well, legend has it that there was a race to determine which animals got onto the zodiac," Lincoln informed her from across the table where he was trying to convince Skye of his age. "Whichever first twelve animals made it would be the animals on the zodiac."
"Hm." Simmons' fingers flew as she sketched out the math - she was genius at chemistry formulas and biological equations, not basic maths - scrunching her face up in concentration as she consulted the chart above her. "Remainder of 7. I'm a rabbit, I guess."
"Guess that makes me one, too," Fitz shrugged, looking up at the chart. When everyone looked at them, he shrugged. "I was born about a month after Jem. Same year."
"Oooh," Skye exclaimed, suddenly excited again. "Is there a compatibility chart? We could finally find out what the cosmos are saying about you guys? Wait, new rule," she rambled. "No one looks until after they find out their signs." A few taps on the table later, and a chart was pulled up. "Rabbit with a rabbit..." she murmured, moving a finger across the squares. "Well," she said finally, turning to face FitzSimmons. "You'd make a wonderful pair, but a perfectly average couple."
Fitz and Simmons immediately turned to each other and said emphatically, "No."
Skye
"Skye, what's your sign?" Simmons asked excitedly. A pit of despair opened up in Skye's stomach. How was she supposed to know her sign if she didn't even know what year she'd been born?
She opened her mouth to say exactly that when Lincoln cut in. "Alright, so, 1992, divide that by 12..." He handed the stylus to Skye. "Here. You can do the math." She took it, her eyes training over the numbers as she manipulated them with ease.
"Remainder 8," she said, making a sound of satisfaction. "I'm a monkey." All of a sudden, she giggled. "Hey it's my year!" she exclaimed. "So suck it up, everyone. Y'all are my bitches." Simmons silently pulled up the love chart, crossing her sign with Lincoln's.
She broke into a large smile. "According to the cosmos, you two are a perfect match," she proclaimed. "You're supposed to have a loving and blissful relationship. Age notwithstanding." The last part was softly directed towards Skye. "Don't feel bad about it, Skye. True love knows no boundaries."
Skye grinned. "Thanks, Jem."
Hunter and Bobbi
"When was the last time I even did bloody maths?" he muttered to himself, crossing out his multiple attempts on paper, making sure to keep them to himself. "Blasted long divisions. Haven't needed to do this since I was eight. This is what calculators were invented for."
"Need help with math, Hunter?" Bobbi teased as she looked over from her own pad of paper. "I wouldn't put it past you to forget how to do long division." He huffed as she laughed.
"I can do my own bloody math, Bob," he insisted, scratching out the problem once more. 1982 over 12...one twelve into nineteen, that's seven, carry down the eight...how many twelves go into 78 again?
"Six," Bobbi broke into his concentration, leaning over his shoulder. "And that's 72. Carry down the two." Gently taking his hand, she moved him through the rest of the equation. "And then you've got 2 left, and that's your remainder." Her chin rested on his shoulder as he turned to look at her, gentleness in her blue eyes.
She moved away from him to check the zodiac circle. "You're a dog," she said finally, coming back over. "And if it helps -" She glanced around warily, looking to make sure no one saw her before holding up her phone. "I had to Google it."
Hunter barked out a laugh. "Guess I'm not alone in this sea of geniuses."
"No," she agreed quietly, coming back to stand beside him, her chin refinding its place on his shoulder, another hand coming up to slip over his other shoulder. "You're not."
"'S that make you, then?" he asked, and Bobbi chuckled as she reached for her pad of paper. "Wow," he laughed when he saw the numerous slashes of long division. "You weren't joking when you said you had to Google it."
"Shut up, Hunter," she huffed quietly, looking up towards the wheel. "Remainder three. I'm a pig," Despite herself, she had to laugh too. "I suppose that makes sense, considering the way I eat." She pulled up the chart, Hunter reaching up to trace their animals.
"We're complementary," he shrugged, "but with our ups and downs." They shared a look then, knowing the countless fights and slammed doors between the two of them, somehow always winding up in reconciliation. "Sounds like we weren't really meant to be together."
"No," Bobbi agreed. "But we're not, and we're both better for that, I think." She cast a glance over at FitzSimmons, which Hunter caught, smirking knowingly. "Oh, shut up," she said once more, blushing when nudged her in the side. "Just motherhenning them," she murmured into his shoulder.
"Sure," he chortled. "Sure."
Joey
He carefully looked around to make sure no one was looking before he squinted at the numbers he'd written on the paper, grinning when the small molecules of graphite began to move around on the paper, rearranging themselves.
"Carry the seven down, six of them in 72..." The numbers were soon quickly in place, and he grinned, consulting the chart. "Remainder nine. Snake. Cool."
"Either you're a mathematical genius, or there's something you're hiding from me."
Lincoln's voice cut in behind Joey, and he jumped, whirling around to face him. His hands automatically flew to cover his paper. "Come on, Guiterrez," he teased. "There's nothing wrong with being a mathematical genius. You wouldn't be the only one."
"It's not that," he admitted quietly. "I can make the graphite move." When Lincoln's eyebrows flew up, he held up the paper, concentrating. Slowly, the pencil marks began to move again, this time rearranging themselves into a miniscule portrait of Skye.
"Whoa," Lincoln said, slowly reaching for the paper. "Can I keep this?"
"Knock yourself out."
Mack
"Well, I've figured out why Hunter and Mack didn't get along when Mack handcuffed him to the sink," Bobbi chuckled as she looked up at the chart. On the other side, Mack was determinedly doing his own math, not noticing the glances Joey was sending him, itching to help him.
Finally, Joey couldn't take it anymore, and stared at the paper, willing the graphite to move. Mack jerked back in surprise as his numbers began to rearrange themselves, forming a perfect remainder two on his paper. "What the actual hell?"
Lincoln hid a smile. Skye looked confused until he showed her the portrait Joey'd made. "Whoa," she whispered, gesturing between Joey and the paper. "He did that?" When Lincoln nodded, she immediately pulled up the love chart, squealing.
"Yeah, you're really not supposed to let two people of the same animal get involved," he shot to Bobbi. "So next time, I'd check with the cosmos before you let me cuff anyone to a sink, Barbara. Make sure they're not dogs like me."
Bobbi mock-scowled. "Don't call me Barbara."
"They'd be 'quite charming', but average." Skye's face fell as she traced the animals. "Damn. I'd hate to see that fall apart." She looked over at Joey, who was still staring at Mack. "Don't ever tell them they'd only be average. I won't let that break him."
Coulson and May
"Ready to find out your sign, Phil?" May joked as she stepped into the room long after the table had left. "Huh. Guess they went and pulled out the love chart, too." She handed Coulson the paper and pencil, waiting patiently as he did the math.
She walked around the room, picking up the scraps of paper the team had left behind. Setting them onto the table, May pulled over the love chart, shifting various papers as she entertained the various couplings in her head.
Note to self: Morse and Simmons are getting together before this holiday's over.
"I'm a tiger?" Phil asked confusedly, scratching his head. "What's your sign, Mel?"
"Rabbit," May murmured back, consulting the love chart once again. "Someone break it to the kids that we're not going to work out," she joked. "We'd be perfectly average."
"Well, goshdarn it," Coulson mocked in an elderly voice. "It works out anyways. I'm already taken by my trading cards and Lola. You can't separate me from Lola. I wonder what her sign is."
That earned him a roll of the eyes and a smack on the head.
"Red envelopes are a valuable part of Chinese New Year tradition," May said later that night, as the team was gathered around the kitchen island. "Inside them is what we all like to call lucky money, and you only get them if you're unmarried."
"Receive them with two hands," Lincoln instructed, holding out his hands to demonstrate as May handed him a pair of red envelopes. "Now, since this is the first one, you're supposed to sleep with this pair under your pillow,"
"Parents usually give them to their kids the night before, but since Lincoln brought it up today, I figured today's a good day as any, since you're only getting another pair later." The agents lined up to receive their envelopes, each of them reaching out with a pair of cautious hands.
Skye was last to receive her pair, pausing quietly when May handed her the envelopes. They were a bright red, with metallic gold calligraphy swathed across them and a brightly colored lion dancing in the background. "May," she began haltingly.
"Yes, Skye?" May asked, frowning quietly. "Is something wrong?"
Skye shook her head. "Parents. Give them to their kids on the first day?" May nodded, and Skye flung herself into the older agent's arms. "Thank you," she murmured, and, suddenly, May understood, patting Skye on the back.
"Happy New Year, Skye."
Be the red envelope. Be the review in the red envelope.