Here is one new chapter, this one more focused on Lance, with flashbacks of his adoption.
Next chapter will be about the kids reacting to Coulson being hurt on the job (requested by an anon). And to clear things about Coulson and May's jobs: both are SHIELD agents; May works in administration, Coulson works a tactical agent (prepares missions, and takes part in some of them)
Lance was overly excited for the whole week as soon as he found out from his football's coach that a talent scout would be watching his team's match that would be over the weekend. Apparently he was looking to recruit one or two kids from several local teams to get them to play at state level. Being a footballer was something Lance had always wanted to be since he had learned to kick a ball, almost since had learned to stand up and walk.
London, UK
The boy looked like a modern version of Oliver Twist, as hungry, poor and lonely as the character from the book. He was playing soccer all alone in a vacant lot. His sneakers had holes, the shorts he wore were dangling off his skinny hips as he ran back and forth, kicking up dust, and his white T-shirt was marred by dust. With skinned knees and sweat dripping down his flushed face, he kicked the ball over and over again at his improvised goal; two empty cans placed on the ground working as the goalposts.
"Bloody hell," he mumbled slightly louder as he kicked the ball and knocked down a can.
"Looks like your target is the cans and not the goal."
Lance snapped his head to where the voice sounded. Coulson and May approached him.
"What's your name, kid?" Coulson asked.
"First name, 'none of your', last name 'damn business'," Lance replied, picking up the fallen can.
"Oh, that's a nice name," the man played along with him. "And where do you live? Somewhere as interesting as your name, I'm guessing."
"Yup," the kid continued, non-interested, "I live on 'why do you care?' street." After he put the can on an upright position again, he resumed playing football on his own, "What are you doing here, exactly?"
"I'd like you to tell me about that wallet you have in your pocket," May spoke, pointing at Lance's pocket, "Where you got it and all that."
May and Coulson weren't so worried that the wallet had been pickpocketed. They were intrigued and impressed, actually. The kid had skills, and with a little help maybe they could help him choose a right path for his life instead of becoming a pickpocket and God know what else. Besides, he was one cheeky yet adorable kid. He had the heart the size of the world and yet he always chose not to show it.
Coulson smirked, "I'm sure if you look at the photo of the driver's license you'll find that the man on the photo strangely resembles me."
"You've followed me all the way here," Lance concluded.
"Yes. And we've come to an interesting conclusion - you are an orphan. Now, what I can't get is that you stole my wallet and yet still haven't spent a single coin of my money. I wonder why."
"I'm saving it for when I'm hungry."
"Oh, I see," Coulson said with a nod. "Do you think you can at least give me back my documents?"
"Sit down," Grant asked as he rested back on the couch and rubbed his forehead, "you're making me dizzy."
"It's a big game for me. I can go to play state level. I can't sit down." Lance replied, walking from side to side in the living room. "Mom, Dad!" he shouted, looking upstairs, "What's taking you so long? We have to go or we'll be late."
"There's still one hour to go 'til the game," Coulson affirmed, coming down the stairs, "relax, buddy."
Lance exhaled deeply and adjusted the strap of the sports' bag in the shoulder. "Do you think I'm gonna do well?"
"Lance," His father placed his hand over the boy's shoulders and look into his eyes, "you are the best player in the team. And I'm not just saying this because I'm your father."
"Ugh, it's not like you have much experience with football to make a comparison."
"Mel, hurry up please," Coulson called, "Lance's very restless."
"He'll drive us all insane before we make it to the game," Trip sighed, flipping through the channels.
The family sat on the bleachers and Lance walked to the small locker room to get changed into his equipment. The rows of benches started getting occupied slowly, and once the game was about to begin, the bleachers were packed with people, mostly families of the kids. Obviously Coulson and May were rooting for Lance, but they were hoping he hadn't set his hopes too high. He was a marvelous player, that much was true, but the coach's son, Tyler, also played in the team, so they were expecting some sort of cheating move from the coach to get his son chosen by the talent scout. Lance scored two goals before half-time and his team was comfortably winning by a margin of three goals. The coach seemed upset at his own son for not being able to keep up with Lance's performance and murmured things at him on the way to the locker room.
At the beginning of the second half, things got complicated. There was a massive mess in the penalty area and Lance was stopped for a foul. The referee called out a penalty kick favoring Lance's team but he was still lying down on the field, holding his right ankle. The play was put on hold and the referee was crossing the pitch to meet him. Tyler was by Lance's side, a guilty expression spreading across his face.
"Get your ass moving, Lance," Coach Oaks shouted. "You'll get a yellow card if you keep pretending."
But he didn't move; he wasn't pretending at all. May stood up to get a clearer look and Coulson unintentionally held her wrist, on an attempt to get her to sit down again. He thought she was upset about the couch yelling at their son, but she was looking at the boy with hawk eyes and without a warning she ran into the field.
"What are you doing?" Oaks yelled at May, "he's alright. He better get up now and stop faking."
"He's not faking," May responded. By this time Coulson was also standing and unconsciously making his way down to the pitch as well.
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm his mother," she spat angrily and ducked next to Lance, "let me see it."
Lance was sobbing, tears rushing down his face. He never cried, so it was serious. Slowly May removed his soccer shoe, as the boy whimpered, and she saw his ankle swelling and the unusual shape that the bone presented indicated the injury was a bad one. When he was asked if he could move his foot, he tried to do so and bawled.
"He sprained his ankle," May concluded, looking up at her husband.
As Coulson carried the boy in his arms, May beckoned to the other children and they all headed to the hospital. The results were worse than expected for striker Lance: a broken ankle; he'd have to keep a plaster cast for six to eight weeks and would have to befriend crutches in the meantime. Lance didn't feel pain, as he was under the effect of painkillers, but once they got home he was so devastated that he cried himself to sleep. The next day he didn't want to go to school, and Coulson and May exceptionally unsurprisingly let it pass once. May then worked from home the following day, so she could stay with Lance.
"Come on kid," Coulson insisted, "I'll let you keep the money, just give me my documents, please. We'll even take you to eat something if you want."
"I can't give you the documents," Lance said, looking down.
May understood the situation in a second flat, "What's his name?"
The boy looked up at May and whispered, scared, "Marcus. He lets me keep the money of the wallets, but I have to give him the IDs."
"He fakes them, right?" The woman got a nod as an answer. "What does he to you if you don't do what he asks?"
Lance shrugged. He had been punched and slapped quite a few times, in the beginning, when he didn't fulfill the agreement. Coulson crossed the distance between them and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.
"Forget about Marcus. He won't hurt you anymore, alright?"
"You can't promise that."
"We can. All you have to do is trust us. Now," Coulson breathed deeply and tried to switch the tone of the conversation, "Melinda and I are starving. Do you know where we can have some food?"
Lance was still downcast and simply pointed in the general direction of the road that lead to the populated area.
"Join us for dinner. I'm paying," He reached the boy's pocket and fetched his wallet, "with my money."
The three entered a small pub a few blocks away from the vacant lot. They all had fish and chips as a football match was on the TV. Lance was so happy to eat and watch football that he loosened up and started talking, as the sweet, funny and sarcastic boy he was. The more he talked, the more Coulson and May fell for him.
When Coulson arrived from work, he was greeted by five of his children who were watching TV in the living room. He made his way to the office room, finding May there, buried in paperwork.
"We've been waiting for you to have dinner," May didn't look away from the papers, she simply tilted her head, offering her cheek to receive a kiss as Coulson leaned to smooch her, "The kids are hungry - they sound like they haven't eaten in days."
"Sorry," he said with a smile, "traffic was a chaos. And I went to speak with Coach Oaks."
"What did he say?" She asked, her gaze shifting to him.
"Not much, I barely let him speak. I started talking as a civilized person, but once I learned about he had done, I couldn't help it. I said we didn't need his money but told him he'd have to pay for the hospital expenses or else we'd file charges against him."
"So you know about it too."
"That he made Tyler hurt Lance on purpose so that his kid could be chosen? Yes, he told me. And he laughed!" Coulson said louder, and angrier, remembering the moment. He leaned on the desk and looked down at her, "How do you know about it?"
May rested back on the chair, having a clear view of her husband, "Tyler came by after school. He wanted to talk with Lance, I convinced him to hear him out. The kid left in tears and Lance was as cool as always." May tossed the pen she was holding over the desk, continuing, "Do you know they even lied to the whole team? The talent scout wasn't looking for kids to play in the state team. The guy wanted to get kids to do tryouts for English teams."
"Oh no. How did Lance react to that?"
"Really well. I may have had an influence on his behavior: the talk we had actually worked." May smiled, "Apparently the Oaks family will be moving to London soon. Lance shook Tyler's hand and wished him good luck." As she secretly listened to the whole conversation between Lance and Tyler, she knew what she was talking about, "And he told him if he hadn't lied to him they could still be friend and he wouldn't have needed to break his ankle. He said, and I quote, I play football for fun, and I'd never leave my family for any team. They chose me for be part of their family and I'd never leave them. They're my team."
Like May, Coulson felt his heart nearly imploding. Lance could be a sweet kid, he just never showed it.
"He's in his bed?"
May firstly nodded and then added, "His teacher emailed me what his class learned today, along with the homework, so he was in his bedroom studying almost all afternoon."
Coulson met the boy tucked in his bed; the crutches were on the floor next to him. "Hey there, kid. How's your ankle?"
"Better. Mom kept putting ice on it and gave me tablets for the pain."
He sat on the edge of the bed and suggested, "Football might be the last thing you want to think of right now, but what do you say, going to that Brit pub downtown? Just you and me. We'd eat there and watch a Premiere League match."
Lance smiled, "I'm up for it. As long as you don't comment on the football game until you learn about it."
"You have to teach me about it." The man chuckled and clapped the boy's leg, "Put your shoes on and get your jacket. I'll tell your mother the two of us are eating out."
Coulson and May walked Lance to the orphanage later on that day. One of the employers was surprised upon learning that they wanted to adopt Lance. No one ever wanted to adopt him before. Once a couple would meet him at the orphanage they'd immediately give up on the idea of taking him home. He was a healthy and good-looking boy, but he was cheeky, a slacker and a joker, being somewhat defiant sometimes.
May finally spoke, "The woman asked us why we are giving ourselves the trouble of wanting to adopt you. She said you the worst kid that there is in this orphanage."
"Then why are you thinking about it?" Lance questioned, looking away as tears brimmed his eyes, "I've been an orphan since I was born, I was abandoned here. I'm eight now, I've hit that age. No one will ever want to adopt me from now on. Why are you giving yourselves the trouble? I don't care if I live here 'til I die."
"Because you are worth it, Lance," Coulson said. "We want to take you to our home in the States. You'll have five other siblings, all just like you, adopted. There's Skye, Leo, Jemma, Grant and Trip. You're going to love them, and they'll love you back."
"What about you two?" He questioned looking between the two of them, "I'm a person, not a dog. You can't choose to adopt me and then-"
"We're picking you for our team," May said, a small smile gracing her face features. "Aren't you so into football? Then see it like that. We want you in our team."
You'll get to learn about all of the kids' adoption background and the reasons as to why May and Coulson adopted them. And, for your understanding, this is the order and age of adoption for all of them:
1. Jemma (1)
2. Trip (7)
3. Grant (6)
4. Leo (5) and Skye (3)
5. Lance (8)
