AN: Ta-da! Here is the first installment of Family in Progress, a collection of oneshots surrounding Emily and her family. And I'm only going to say this once. I don't own the MCU. Sadly.
Rain was always a double-edged sword for those living on the streets. On the one hand, it meant that passers-by were in a hurry and didn't pay attention to what was around them, making it easy to lift a wallet here, a watch there. On the other hand, it meant that, for those without warm homes waiting for them, there was no escaping it, or the cold it brought with. And for ten-year-old Emily, she was no exception.
Shivering on a doorstep, she carefully watched those around her. She needed to hurry, since the little store with the nice owner was closing in about half an hour. But she needed to be careful, so she didn't attract attention.
"There," she thought, seeing an average-looking man. In fact, he was so average-looking that he stood out to her. Average height, average build, average hair, average-looking trench coat and umbrella. "Perfect," she thought, though she couldn't exactly say why.
Getting up slowly, but not too slowly, she then angled her body to intercept him just when he would be in the midst of a crowd of people waiting at the corner for the lights to change. She slipped her slim hand into his pocket, almost surprised to find his wallet in his coat pocket. She had thought to make a second pass, going for the pants pocket, but apparently she didn't need to.
Emily closed her hand around the wallet, swiftly pulling it out. Just as she was about to slip away into the crowd, a hand clamped around hers. "I think you have something of mine," the man said in a mild voice.
Emily froze. She'd never been caught before, at least not since she'd been very small. She slowly looked up into the man's pale blue eyes, feeling like she couldn't breathe, let alone move.
"If you give it back, I might just share some of what's in it," the man told her kindly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Emily told him defiantly, despite the fact that her hand was still around his wallet.
To her everlasting surprise, the man laughed. "You've got spunk, kid. Can I buy you something to eat?"
Emily was so confused. Why was this man being nice to her? She had tried to steal from him, and he was offering to buy her dinner. What was going on?
"C'mon. I know a pretty good little diner around the corner here. It's actually where I was heading anyway. Let's get some dinner," the man said, then deftly turned her around, slipped his arm over her shoulder, and steered her to the mentioned diner.
Emily started shivering the moment they entered the diner and the warm air hit her bare arms. Noticing this, and the fact that Emily had no jacket despite it raining and being September in New York City, the man took off his scarf and wrapped it around her thin shoulders. The shivers abated a little, and she gave him a small but grateful smile.
"Phil! It's been a while, sugar," a wide woman announced as she came to the hostess stand.
"I've been out of town on business for a while, Flo," the man, apparently named Phil, replied. "Could we get some hot chocolate while we look at our menus?"
"Of course!" Flo said, looking at a dripping Emily with warmth. "Two extra large hot cocoas, coming right up!" she added, after showing them to a booth.
Once they were alone again, Emily looked at the man across from her. "Why are you doing this?" slipped out of her mouth before she even realized it.
"Because you look like you could use a friend," he said simply, then browsed his menu like taking stray children to dinner was a regular occurrence for him.
"I don't need a friend," she said stubbornly.
"Really? I think the grilled BLT sounds good. What would you like?" he asked, ignoring her mild outburst.
"I want an answer," she demanded. "Why are you being nice to me? What's the catch?"
"I just wanted to help you, that's all," Phil told her. "Have you decided what you want?"
Realizing that she wasn't going to be getting a better answer anytime soon, Emily looked at her menu. "At least I can read," she thought, silently grateful that she'd been able to go to school some. Her eyes ran over the list, skipping any unfamiliar words, before landing on something very familiar.
"Here you go, sugars. Two hot cocoas, with extra whipped cream, just the way you like it, Phil," Flo said, sliding one drink to each of the table's occupants without spilling so much as a drop. "Do you know what you'd like, or do you need another minute?"
Phil looked at Emily, who then said, "I want the mac and cheese, please." Even the thought of the cheesy goodness had her stomach growling in anticipation. Of course, breakfast had been a long time ago, and rather small.
"Can I get the grilled BLT, please? Thanks, Flo," Phil said, handing the woman both menus.
"You got it," she said with a wink, then sashayed back to the kitchen.
Silence reigned at the table, before Phil finally broke it. "Well, you know my name. Can I know yours?"
Emily thought for a moment, trying to decide if it would be okay to answer. She'd always been able to trust her instincts, but there was always the first time that she would be wrong. "It's Emily," she eventually answered.
"That's a pretty name. It fits you, Emily," he told her.
Emily flushed a bit at the praise. "Thanks," she mumbled, before taking a huge gulp of her cocoa. Immediately, warmth spread throughout her body, a feeling she hadn't really felt since at least August.
Phil made light conversation as they waited for their food, but Emily just listened. To him, of course, there was much to learn by what he was saying, but mostly to her instincts. There were no screaming red flags, nothing that suggested he was more than a kind-hearted man giving a poor girl a meal.
Once their meals did arrive, Emily practically dived into her macaroni and cheese. After about three bites in thirty seconds, she started feeling Phil's eyes on her. He grinned, knowing he'd been caught staring. "How's that mac and cheese?" he asked, then taking a crunching bite out of his sandwich.
"Good," she said around the noodles in her mouth.
"Good," he grinned back, with a little smudge of mayo on his top lip. She giggled when he licked it off dramatically.
Phil chattered for the rest of the meal, and slowly drew Emily out a little. He asked her questions, but none that were too specific that threw off red flags for her. Flo brought them out pie, also topped with whipped cream.
Emily was surprised to look out the window and see that it was dark outside already. "Well, Flo, we've probably hogged your table for long enough," Phil told the nice lady.
"Yes, because we're so busy," she said with a grin. "You know you're always welcome around here, Phil. And you, too, sugar," she added, looking to Emily.
"Oh, um, I…" was all Emily could stutter out.
"Anytime you're hungry, you just come right on in, okay, sugar? Or even if you just need a minute to warm up," Flo told her.
Really, what was going on? First, the guy she tried to pickpocket takes her to dinner, then a restaurant lady tells her she can come anytime she wants? Something had to be wrong, the street girl decided.
"Yeah, sure," she said, rather suspicious. After all, most people didn't treat homeless kids this way.
"Well, Emily, can I take you anywhere? Someplace dry, perhaps?" Phil asked her.
"No. I can make it from here. It's not too far." Emily most definitely didn't want Phil to follow her. Just because he had been nice to her didn't mean he didn't have a hidden agenda.
"Okay, well, if you ever need some place to stay for the night, here's my address. I might not be there, but you are always welcome to stay, anytime, night or day," he told her, handing her a napkin with directions on it. Emily vowed to never use it.
…
It was a week later, and it hadn't stopped raining since her dinner with Phil. Emily was miserable. She tried to find dry places, but all the good ones were taken. Most were defended quite violently. So she was huddled on the doorstep of a closed up shop, trying to stay under the protection the awning afforded. But considering the fact that the rain was now blowing sideways, she was very wet.
As she huddled, the napkin in her pocket seemed to burn, reminding her of Phil's offer. She tried to ignore it, but the colder she got, the more she thought about it. Finally, after an hour of huddling on the stoop, she made up her mind. "After all," she thought, "even if he does turn me into child services, at least I'll be dry. And I can always run away again. Once it stops raining."
Emily made her way uptown, dodging what little traffic was about. It took her a while, but she finally made it to the building Phil had directed her to. But instead of going inside and up through the elevator, she clambered onto the dumpster at the side of the building. From there, she scaled the fire escape, making it to the northeast corner apartment on the seventeenth floor. It only took her probably fifteen minutes, and there had been merely three close calls. She considered it quite the accomplishment, sparing a moment to pat herself on the back, before going to the window.
The lock was a simple one, and she managed to slip her little knife in the crack, managing to pop the slide in no time at all. After that, it was easy peasy to push the window up, throw her bag inside, and hop down. She was just closing the window when she heard a voice. "I was wondering when you'd show up. I guessed yesterday. Apparently, you're more stubborn than I thought."
AN: Yes, Emily is stubborn! But she's got to be to deal with the Avengers, right? Anyway, here is the first installment. There will probably be one or two per family member. But I don't think I'm going to do each family member, because that would be a lot! So far, I'm thinking one or two more with Coulson, a chapter with Clint, and probably two with Tasha. And possibly one more at the end of All Grown Up, just to tie everything together. Thanks for reading!