"She just gave me the whole envelope, Kar," Bobbi slammed her locker door shut. "There was three fucking grand in there." Her friend raised an eyebrow, shifting the books in her arms. "She said she wanted me to be able to go to a good law school and kick ass."

"She's your sister," Kara added. "Sisters support sisters, y'know. Just because mine's out for my head all the time doesn't mean yours is," She frowned, reconsidering the total. "Three grand? And she didn't keep any of it for herself?" Bobbi shook her head. "I wouldn't not say thank you, I guess..."

"I just wish I knew what she was up to," Skye had never given up money so willingly. Hell, she'd never given anything up willingly, whether it'd been the last piece of cheong fun during dim sum or a dollar to help her sister pay for the train fare. And three thousand? What was the catch?

But Kara was already looking over her shoulder. "Well, I can tell you what she's up to now," she said quietly, pointing. "Looks like she's getting charmed by the one and only Grant Ward." Bobbi followed her gaze. Skye seemed to be utterly taken by the taller football player, giggling and blushing whenever he said something witty - which apparently was every other line.

Something roiled in Bobbi's belly. Jealousy, perhaps? No, not that. Someone'd noticed Skye for who she was, and not because she was sloppy seconds for her sister. That pride resonated in her chest, rosy and bright. Apprehension? Her sister finally making it out into the dating scene? But that was impossible as well, Skye'd dated plenty of boys before this one...but it was definitely some sort of uneasiness roiling in her stomach.

"You know my friend Linc, right? Lincoln Slade?"

There it was. Bobbi's first party as a freshman, charmed by Lincoln Slade's words that he'd be her belle of the ball. The pulsing lights, alcohol mixing with sweat in the air, the crispness of her first beer. Her naive, fourteen-year-old self had believed Slade's idea of a small party meant a gathering of friends, perhaps some video games and pizza.

That fourteen-year-old had grown up quickly that night. In more ways than one. She remembered hands sliding over skin she wasn't even familiar with, told herself that she should be happy someone was paying attention to her this way, that she'd be the talk of her friend group the next day. That despite where she'd come from, despite her shitty parents and her time in the streets, someone had wanted her for something other than a check. (So maybe the alcohol had embittered her a little.)

She remembered fuzzily her t-shirt on the floor, her jeans discarded in the corner of the room, a hungry hand sweeping between her legs.

It still made her nauseous every time she thought about it.

"I didn't even know they were friends," Kara said uneasily. Kara had been the reason Bobbi hadn't ended up completing a rape kit that night; completely by accident stumbling into the room with another boy's lips locked to hers. The hungry hand had yanked itself out of her underwear then, leaving Bobbi cold, humiliated, and shaky.

"Hey, hey, are you okay?" the guy had asked a still-shaking Bobbi. "Slade's a douchey asshat - you don't deserve that, trust me - but are you okay?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, and Bobbi flinched heavily. She hadn't meant to, but any sort of touch was freaking her out at the moment.

"Let me," Kara had said, although Bobbi hadn't known her name at that moment. "Honey, can you tell me what happened here?" Slowly, Bobbi began to stumble out the details of the incident, the grip on her clothes loosening. "Okay," she said finally when Bobbi got out the words 'touched me' and 'there'. "Let's get you dressed and get you home, okay? Is there anyone we can call?"

As drunk as she was, ice cold adrenaline still flooded Bobbi's system at the thought of someone calling May. What kind of disappointed would she be if she turned up back home, still reeking of alcohol when her adoptive mother believed she'd gone out for pizza? No. They couldn't call May. She shook her head vigorously.

Kara nodded. "Okay, let's just get you home, then," Together, she and the boy hoisted Bobbi onto their shoulders and carried her out to the car, Bobbi's head still spinning from the alcohol.

Mack had met them at the front door of the restaurant with a look that was both severe disappointment and relief. "Thank you both," he said quietly. "I knew that Lincoln Slade kid was trouble." To Bobbi, he said, "You're getting a cold shower, some water, and some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

"You can't tell Mom," Bobbi had bleated. "Please don't tell Mom."

To this day, Bobbi still hadn't told May what'd happened. Her mother still believed that she'd gone out for pizza and had come home drowsy from the cheese instead of drowsy with alcohol. She hadn't even told her about the assault, wanting to put things behind her and not wanting May to think she wasn't capable of being tough.

It was the real reason she'd chosen to pursue law - not from the awestruck experience she'd had in Hell's Kitchen when she was younger, as May believed (and loved to tell anyone they met) - but because the thought of putting someone like Lincoln Slade behind bars, for committing such a slimy, disgusting offense? She'd be lying if she said that the thought didn't make her blood sing.

She hadn't told Skye, either. As broken as fourteen-year-old Bobbi had been, thirteen-year-old Skye, who had basically saved her life five years ago in rainy back alleys, was still pure to her. Untouched. Clean in ways that Bobbi hadn't been since that night.

"Bobbi?"

Bobbi yanked her head out of her own reveries to see Kara waving a hand in her face. "Yeah?"

"You literally spaced out for a whole five minutes," Kara said patiently. "In those five minutes, Grant Ward managed to ask your sister out, and she said yes." The roiling was back in Bobbi's gut again. "We're gonna see a lot of his ugly mug around, aren't we?"

"Yeah, well, you're not going to be the one who's going to have to tell my mom Skye's dating a fuckboy." She'd also (although would die before admitting to it) have to pay Mack ten bucks and a night of babysitting Hope. Her baby sister was apparently still straighter than a pair of chopsticks.

"Bobbi! Kar!" Yup. A glowing, breathless face, eyes wide with newfound possibility. Bobbi remembered this face well. It wasn't hard to remember when it was the last innocent expression one saw on their faces. "Grant Ward asked me out! Finally!"

If Kara was disturbed by their observations becoming reality, she hid it much better than Bobbi did. "Congrats, lil May!" she grinned, mussing Skye's hair. The smaller sophomore struggled to get out of her grip. "You've got yourselfs a man!"

"Knock it off, Bennet," Skye scowled, but she was still flushed with victory. "He said he'd been admiring me from afar," she gushed to Bobbi as the three of them started down the sidewalk. "He said I was the prettiest girl in the whole school, which, psh, I know so much better than that, but still! He thinks I'm cute!" The smaller May actually bounced on her heels. "He wants to take me to homecoming!"

Don't bother to pick out a dress, Bobbi wanted to tell her younger sister. He'll drop you faster than you drop hot xiaolong baos as soon as the next seemingly unattainable pretty girl comes along. Homecoming will end up with your head spinning and his hands places they shouldn't be. "Be careful," she found herself saying instead. "You don't know what he really wants."

"Me, Bobbi," Skye answered, hurt and confused that Bobbi was shooting her down so quickly. Was her sister really doubting her ability to get a date? After all the years she'd spent trying to get out of her shadow? "He wants me. Not you, me. Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, it's just -" How was Bobbi supposed to warn her sister off without telling her about her own past? And her? Had she really hurt Skye's chances that badly? "He's bad news, okay, Skye? Trust, me, please. Just this once." She stared beseechingly at Skye, knowing that the stare normally made her sister blush, for some reason. "Please."

But Skye had already made up her mind. "He chose me for once, Bobbi. Deal with it."

Skye's entrance into the restaurant was all noise, the door slamming shut, chairs scraped to the side. On the way home, her anger had steeled into a scowl that had every patron of the restaurant steering absolutely clear of her as she walked through the dining room.

Whether Phil was just terrible at reading emotions or he was just an idiot, he'd never know.

"Hey, Skye, I was wondering if I could get your interview today, May said you weren't working -?"

"Fuck off, Phil" was all he heard before the door to their upstairs apartment slammed shut in his face. He did dare say he had to fix his hat a little.

"Well, that was rude."

"Does that mean Skye's not babysitting me today?" In all of his haste to get Skye's interview, he hadn't noticed that Hope had sidled up to the same door, staring at it with all of the deapan an eight-year-old could. "Well, who's gonna make sure I don't break into the kitchen?" Inquisitive brown eyes turned on Phil. "Fitz usually ends up setting something on fire when I'm in there."

"I - well - " He certainly couldn't. He had an article to write, even though the subject had just gone up in flames - he could just make something up. Journalists did that on their most time-crunched days, didn't they? In a panic, Phil looked around the restaurant. Mack was busy serving tables, Fitz was in the back kitchen, Skye was...well, he knew where she was, and Bobbi was sulkily sitting at a table, playing with a single chopstick.

As much as Phil had a deadline, he was probably a better choice than a moody teenager with a potential weapon. His beliefs were only solidified when Bobbi twirled the chopstick a little too fast for his liking. "You're with me today, Hope," he said, hoping Mack wouldn't kill him for taking the liberty. "I don't think we've met officially." Phil held out his hand. "Phil Coulson."

"You won the xiaolong bao eating competition." Hope slapped his hand in a high-five. "Solid. I don't think anyone's beat Miss May since I was alive."

"And that's how it's going to be for the rest of my life. Starting next year." May swung into Phil's line of sight, easily picking up the eight-year-old with a grin. "So. Hope. Is Skye not hanging out with you today? What'd she do to you?"

"Skye's mad," Hope said wisely, somehow knowing how to put gravity into the smallest amount of words possible. "She stomped in and slammed the door in Phil's face." Phil watched as May's own expression went stormy dark, although whether it was because her daughter had been so disrespectful or because she'd specifically disrespected him, he wasn't sure. "And Bobbi's sad at the table, so Phil said he'd be my babysitter till Dad was off!"

"It's really not a lot of trouble," Phil explained hastily when May gave him a surprised look. "I just have to get two interviews tomorrow from you guys. And Roz double-teamed me to try a new ice cream parlor in Midtown, I thought I'd take Hope with me."

How did Hope manage to pull such a wide grin from May? "Well, you're in luck," she said to Hope. "You're getting not one cool babysitter, but two this afternoon!"

"Two?" Hope looked as confused as Phil felt. "Who's the other one?"

"Me!" The smaller girl did a fist pump at May's declaration. "Let me go get my bag and we'll go, okay, honey?" Hope nodded happily as May headed back towards the office. Phil could only stare. He was going for ice cream. With Melinda. Granted, it was for work, and granted, it was with a small child in tow, but they were going. Together. To get something other than Chinese food. Was this a date? Were they dating? Oh no. He wasn't ready for this.

"Mr. Phil? You look kinda pale." Hope was tugging at his sleeve, and Phil blushed. "You okay? Should I get Miss May?" He shook his head silently as May arrived back on the scene, that same smile on her face and bag in hand.

"Phil? You good? Last night's bao making a comeback?"

"Are you sure yours aren't? I did win, after all," he sassed back immediately, and Hope gasped.

"Shots fired, Miss May!"

May had been somewhat skeptical of the new ice cream place Phil'd suggested. Twenty three flavors? What kind of place even did that? Furthermore, what kind of place actually did that well? "Apple cider? What do you mean, apple cider is an ice cream flavor?"

Hope and Phil looked at her like she was crazy. "You've never had apple cider ice cream before?" Now would be a very bad time to bring up her lactose sensitivity, May decided. "That's it, you're getting apple cider ice cream." Phil frowned when she brought out her wallet. "This one's on me. Company credit card, remember?"

This was starting to feel very much like a date. If they hadn't had Hope in tow...

"Mr. Phil?" Hope looked up politely but expectantly. Phil gave her an indulging smile and bent down to her level. That was good, May noted unconsciously in the back of her head. Treats kids like they're equals, not inferior. (Where the hell had that thought come from?)

"What's up, Hope? Decided what flavor you want yet? I think you can get more than one."

"I know you said your company's paying for everything, but can I get a sugar cone? And can we bring some back for Daddy and Skye and Bobbi?" Sure enough, when Phil looked over at the cones, a sugar cone was indeed more expensive. "Skye and Bobbi looked sad today, and ice cream cheers up everything!"

Ice cream might not speed up a gay awakening, May thought ruefully. If her daughters had fought about that again, one of them was most definitely crawling into her bed tonight. And while she appreciated their willingness to be close, she'd somehow managed to adopt two daughters that were cover hoggers. It was getting cold, okay? But she couldn't very well tell that to Hope. "Sure, honey," she said instead, and Hope's face was painstakingly similar to Skye's whenever she saw the creamy treat. "What do you think they'd like?"

Hope studied the board for an alarmingly long amount of time. "PB&J," she said finally. "'Cause they're sisters, and sisters are supposed to go together like PB&J, right?" Both Phil and May looked surprised at the comparison. "They're good together!'

"Half a pint of PB&J...actually, let's make it a pint," Phil said decisively.

May frowned. "Shouldn't we try it first before we lug a couple of pints home?" If they ended up eating subpar ice cream, she'd rather give it to one of the homeless people she'd passed on the way there. "I'm not spending hard-earned money on terrible ice cream."

"You're not wrong," Phil mused, and the matter was closed until they each cradled a cup of ice cream in front of them, squished into a booth. Sunlight shone through the window onto their table, slanting some of them in a golden glow. Hope watched it catch both Phil and May, their staredown highlighted in a dusky spotlight.

More specifically, it highlighted their staring contest. "You eat first," May challenged. "As the reviewer, you should have the first official bite." Guiltily, Hope put her spoon down. Mack had always told her to wait to be told to eat first.

"You're my guest," Phil shot back. "You should have the first bite."

"Well, really, I'm indebted to you for all of the press you're giving to the restaurant, and first is the best -"

"First is the worst, actually, and if you really wanted to make me feel good you'd go first so I can go second and have the best ice cream ever -"

"That's terrible, Phil, it really is, expecting me to make you feel good -"

"Hey, you said it, not me,"

"There is a child!" May finally said, blushing deeply. The look on Phil's face could only be described as pure victory. "Fine. I'll eat first. Oh, Hope, honey. You can eat." Thank gosh. Hope picked up her spoon and shoved it into her mouth, frowning when the taste was acrid and bitter.

"Miss May?" She swished the spoon around her mouth, trying to figure out what was going on with it. "My ice cream tastes weird." May sunk her spoon into Hope's cookies and cream, popping it into her mouth.

Well. At least this took away any pretense of this being a date. No good date would've had such terrible ice cream. "That is definitely not what cookies and cream tastes like," she affirmed. "You can throw it away, if you'd like." Phil frowned and did the same, his nose squishing adorably. May had to fight the urge to chuckle. "Yup. You're not the only one that thinks so."

"Oh god," Phil said, his nose still scrunched in disgust. "What kind of Oreo -" He took a scoop of his watermelon sherbert. Nope. Regret. Regret. Abort. Abort. Where's my water. "That's way too sweet. Nope. Bye." He jotted some notes down at lightning speed before fishing a bottled water out of his bag and chugging it down.

May took a bite of her own ice cream - ginger, which she'd been surprised to find somewhere outside of Chinatown - and waited for the subtle kick to make itself known. Sourness immediately shrivelled up what was left of her tastebuds instead, and she flinched. "Forget xiaolong bao," she muttered. "Next year's eating competition is from here." Just to make sure she hadn't missed something, she tried another bite. Nope. Just as sour as before. Oh, god. How did they manage to mess up ginger ice cream? I'm scarred for life. The rest of it.

Phil stood and threw his ice cream out. Hope immediately scrambled to her feet and followed. Her sugar cone was still clutched in her hand, and both adults looked at it enviously. "Was it good?" Phil asked. "It's from a box. It has to be good, right?"

Hope crunched the cone, making a face and swallowing. "It tastes like sugar. Just sugar."

"One out of ten, would not recommend," Phil concluded. "Got it."

"One out of ten?" May asked.

"One of out ten. Because at least I got to see all of your faces eating terrible ice cream." They exited the shop and into the street, making a mild beeline for the local grocery on the corner. "Let's get some decent ice cream for the rest of your family, yeah? I have a feeling Skye wouldn't appreciate subpar ice cream." Hope nodded vigorously.

"You think they're gonna have PB&J ice cream, Mr. Phil? 'Cause I think Bobbi'n Skye still need it..."

If you could have any flavor in the world put into ice cream, what flavor would you choose and why? I'd probably choose just like..an actual chocolate chip muffin? Because those are so good.