A/N:This is a long chapter to apologise for the very long wait since the last one. I'm so sorry, I've just been so busy with uni, but i'm one week away from being finished FOREVER! Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, and to the people I have been speaking with via tumblr. I've loved getting to know you.

Enjoy this chapter!

Natasha and Bobbi sprinted from the back yard, giggling and looking back towards the fence, behind which, their very angry mother stood.

"Where are we going?" Nat grinned, slowing her sprint to a sprightly jog, following her big sister.

"Somewhere we can lay low for a while." Bobbi said.

"For how long?"

Bobbi turned to Nat. "Just until Mom calms down a bit."

"You know I have to go back to college next week?" She smirked.

"I know that was a joke," Bobbi said, "but I'm genuinely concerned that if I return too soon, I might get murdered, and if I go back too late, Hunter will be dead." She stopped running when they reached the main road and bent over, resting her hands on her knees. "And I'd much prefer a live husband to a dead one."

Nat shook her head, resting against a street light. "I still can't believe you got married. Bobbi that's crazy."

Bobbi stood up straight, looking around the empty street. "I thought you'd be mad, you know?" She looked to Nat. "I was going to tell you last night. Hell, I was going to tell you three weeks ago when it happened, but…" She shrugged. "I didn't want you to be mad at me."

"Why? Why would I be mad?" Nat said. They crossed the road at a slow jog. "My big sister got married. I'm thrilled, Bobbi."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Nat patted her on the arm as they walked together. "It's okay. I get it."

"I'm still sorry, Tasha. It just, I guess it just happened so fast." She shook her head.

"How did he ask you, Bobbi?" Nat grinned. "How did Hunter ask?"

Bobbi snorted, nudging Nat with her elbow. "Remember when I used to say the last thing I ever wanted was to be proposed to in public? Like in a restaurant with a ring in my champagne glass or something cheesy like that?"

Nat gawked. "He didn't?"

"No. He didn't. Thank God." Bobbi laughed. "In fact," she frowned, "Lance kind of did the opposite."

"What do you mean?"

"He shouted 'marry me, you hell beast' while we were having sex."

Nat grimaced. "How romantic."

"I know, right?" Bobbi smiled, completely sincere.

Nat rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I just want you to know that I'm happy for you and Hunter. I love you both. I mean, you more, obviously."

"Obviously." Bobbi stopped, turning to Natasha and putting a hand on her cheek. "I love you so much."

Nat smiled. "Now you're just getting sappy."

"I do." Bobbi laughed, bending to Nat's level. "I do, little sissy. I love you."

A group of high school kids walked past, giving the two sisters strange looks, a few of them laughing behind their hands. Nat blushed and tried to pull away but Bobbi was relentless.

She hugged Natasha. "Oh my little Bubba." She said loudly as the high school kids passed. "I love you, I do. You're my beautiful baby sissy and I love you, Tasha."

"Bobbi, stop."

The school kids pointed and snickered.

"Tashy." Bobbi kissed her reddening cheeks. "I love my baby Tasha."

"Bobbi. Stop."

"I love you, I do. My baby-," Bobbi let Natasha go. "Okay they're gone."

Nat glared at her older sister. "I hate you."

Bobbi grinned and began walking away. "I love you, too, Tashy."

Nat huffed and followed behind. "I should have stayed with Skye."

…

When Skye had told Hunter to run, she hadn't actually thought he would run away.

She was wrong.

Hunter took one look at May, acknowledged the threat, and sprinted through the garden to the opposite fence, vaulted over the eight-foot fence, and from the clatter Skye heard, she assumed, fell.

"I'm fine." Hunter called through the fence. "I am bleeding. But I'm fine."

"I don't care." Mel shouted back. "When I said run fast, I meant it. I'm allowing you a head start before I kick your ass."

"Bloody hell."

After that, all Skye heard was the sound of Hunter's feet slapping on the pavement as he ran far away from the house.

Skye looked up at Melinda, arms still around her waist. "Where do you think he's going?"

Mel shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't think he does either." Melinda stared at the fence, almost as if she could see Hunter through it.

"You're…you're not really going to kick his ass, are you?" Skye asked. She had no doubt her foster mom could kick Hunter's butt six ways from Sunday if she wanted to.

Mel smirked. "Don't say 'ass'."

"But you said 'ass'."

"I'm allowed to say it."

Skye pouted. "Somehow that doesn't seem fair."

"But to answer your original question," Mel brushed the flyaway hairs off Skye's forehead, "no, I don't plan on actually beating Hunter up. I just wanted to scare him."

"Oh. Good. I like Hunter."

"You do?" Mel smiled.

"Yeah." Skye nodded. "He's funny. And Bobbi's in love with him, y'know."

"I know. I think that's why they got married." Melinda chuckled.

Skye turned to the fence Hunter had jumped and rested her ear on Mel's belly. She could hear Melinda's heart beating. "Your heart's going pretty fast, y'know." Skye informed her.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhm."

Melinda laughed. "I suppose that'll be the shock." She sighed. "Oh God. Phil can't find out."

"Why not?"

"Because if he finds out before I manage to ease him into the idea of Bobbi and Hunter being betrothed, he might actually hurt Lance."

"I see. What's 'betrothed'?"

"Married." Mel clarified.

Skye bit her lip. "So I guess it's probably best that Hunter and Bobbi ran away?"

Mel rubbed her back. "At least for now. I can't believe she got married. When did she get married? Where did she get married?"

Skye leaned away from Melinda, catching a glimpse of movement near the back door. "I don't know why you're asking me, Mel, but you might want to keep quiet if you don't want Phil to find out."

Melinda and Skye both turned to see a smiling Phil wave at them from across the yard.

"Hey guys. You seen Hunter? We need to finish painting the fence."

Mel crouched down next to Skye, feigning fixing her hair. "Phil can't find out about Bobbi, Skye. Not yet. He'll have an aneurysm." She whispered.

Skye smirked. "It's not nice to lie." Then, "What's an aneurysm?"

"I'm not asking you to lie. I'll lie. I'm asking you to keep your lip zipped. And you're very right, it's wrong to lie, but these are very special circumstances. Aneurysms are bad. Just know that." Melinda muttered. She smiled at Phil. "No, haven't seen him."

Phil huffed. "You seen him, Skye?"

Skye grinned at Mel and pretended to 'zip her lip'.

"Skye, go find Clint." Melinda said. "Get him to help Phil paint the fence."

"Clint's not here." Skye shrugged.

Phil wandered over to stand by Mel, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Where is he?"

Skye shrugged again. "Said he was going to pick something up. I dunno."

"Fine." Phil shook his head. "Where are Nat and Bobbi?"

"They went out, too." Mel supplied.

"I swear, every time I have chores for them, the kids disappear like the Nazis when Captain America is around."

Mel nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly why the kids made themselves scarce." She gave Skye a poignant look. "And could we cut down on the Nazi references?"

Phil kissed her cheek.

"I'll help paint, Phil." Skye piped up. The door sign Bobbi had been painting still resided on the plastic sheeting on the grass, and watching Bobbi paint it had made Skye want to try, too. Painting a fence was a little different perhaps, but using the big paintbrushes looked kind of fun.

"You will?" Phil sounded pleasantly surprised.

"Sure." Skye smiled. "I can be a good assistant. Promise."

"Great." Phil gave her a high five. "Suit up."

Skye frowned. "What?"

Melinda smiled. "He means go and get changed."

"Oh."

"Go put some old clothes on." Mel said. "Something you don't mind getting ruined if it gets paint on it."

"Okay." Skye nodded. "Wait here, Phil. I'm gonna go and suit up."

Skye ran into the house and up to her room as quick as she could. She was trying to get up there so quickly that she tripped on the stairs, but the friction burn from the carpet on her knee only hurt a little bit compared to how excited she was to help Phil paint. Once in her room, it occurred to Skye that she didn't really have any clothes she didn't mind getting ruined. Most of her clothes were brand new, she hadn't even had the chance to wear some of them yet after Mel and Phil had taken her shopping. She wanted to keep everything nice.

It suddenly struck Skye that she did have something she wouldn't mind ruining. The clothes she had arrived at Mel and Phil's with were now long gone. Skye had been eager to help Melinda sort through and throw away the holy ones and donate the clothes that just didn't fit, but a certain shirt had been being washed, and had been pushed to the back of one of her drawers.

The too-big green polo shirt was the only thing Skye really had left from the orphanage, from her life before Melinda and Phil. She pulled it on over her clothes and skipped back out to the back yard. She would be thrilled to ruin it.

"Okay. I'm ready." Skye informed Phil, wandering over to the very tempting tin of green paint.

Melinda put a hand on her shoulder. "Do what Phil says, don't get too messy, okay?"

Skye nodded. "Promise."

Melinda kneeled down and kissed her cheek. "And," She whispered in Skye's ear, "please don't tell Phil about Bobbi. I'm figuring it out."

"Lip is zipped." Skye grinned.

"You're such a good girl." Mel pointed at Skye. "But never, ever lie to me. Ever. Especially about getting married."

"You're giving me mixed signals." Skye said.

Mel stood up and ran a hand through her hair. "I've had a long day." She turned to Phil. "I'm going to go and lie down."

He nodded. "By the time you come back down, we'll have this whole fence painted. Right, Skye?"

"Right." She punched the air to prove her point.

…

Phil liked Lance Hunter. He did. He didn't really want to think about his tongue in his daughter's mouth or the fact that they shared a bed every night, but Phil didn't really want to think about Bobbi with anyone. He supposed, if his eldest daughter had to have a boyfriend, Lance Hunter was perhaps the best choice. Phil liked Hunter.

That being said, Hunter's fence-painting skills were being completely dominated by eight-year-old Skye's, and together, she and Phil had managed to finish the rest of the fence in less than two hours.

Skye lay back on the grass, wiping a drip of paint off her cheek and smearing it across her face in the process. Phil smiled.

"You've been a good helper today, Skye." He put the paintbrush on top of the can. "Better than Hunter."

"I like helping." Skye said. "And this was fun helping. I never painted a fence before."

"No?"

She shook her head.

"Well," Phil stretched out next to her, "we've got the whole fence in the front yard to do at some point. Maybe you and I can do that next weekend?"

Her face lit up. "Just you and me, Phil?"

"You and me, kid."

"Awesome." Skye wiped her hands on the green shirt she wore over her clothes. "Phil?"

"Yeah?"

Skye frowned and looked towards the garden gate.

Phil nudged her elbow. "What's up?"

She looked down and bit her lip. "You love Bobbi no matter what, right?"

He was taken aback. "Of course, Skye. I love all my kids no matter what. Bobbi, Nat, Clint, you."

She looked up at that.

Phil put a hand on her shoulder. "You know I love you, right?"

Skye smiled. "Yes." She said quietly. "I love you, too."

He hadn't expected her to say it back. Phil had to take a deep breath. His eyes burned.

Skye clapped once. "But that's not what I asked you." Apparently their moment was over. "I was asking about Bobbi."

"Skye, you know I love Bobbi. What's got you asking me this?"

"I just need to know, Phil. For…" Skye looked back towards the gate. "…reasons."

"Reasons?" Phil suspected that there was more behind Skye's inquiries. "Skye, where's Bobbi and Hunter?"

Skye folded her arms. "I can honestly say that I have no idea."

"Okay. Tell me this," Phil looked Skye in the eye, "should I be concerned."

Skye stayed quiet for a few moments, seemingly having some sort of internal debate. "Probably." She said eventually.

"How concerned should I be?"

The little girl hummed. "I'd say about a seven on a scale of one to ten."

Phil cocked an eyebrow. "Seven's pretty high."

"What's your ten?" Skye asked.

Phil thought about it. "I guess my ten on the concern scale would be like a nuclear disaster, or maybe an alien invasion where one of the aliens can control minds." Perhaps he'd been reading too many comics.

Skye smirked. "Okay. Maybe this situation is a six, then."

Phil rubbed his eyes. "And can you tell me anything about this situation, Skye?"

"I cannot."

"Great." He stood up and offered his hand to his little girl. "Come on, Skye. Let's hang your sign Bobbi made on your bedroom door while I repress all these feelings of dread."

Skye jumped up with a grin. "Great. Let's go."

At least he had Skye to keep him busy.

…

Natasha huffed.

"When you said we were going somewhere to 'lay low' I didn't think you meant we were walking all the way to Steve's place." Nat groaned. "I'm getting blisters."

Bobbi rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. You run farther than this most mornings."

"Not in these shoes." Nat lifted her leg to shove her tennis shoes in her sister's face.

Bobbi batted her away. "We ran away without much thought. This is the best I can do." She folded her arms. "I didn't even bring my phone."

"Oh." Natasha did a little half skip to catch up with Bobbi and her long legs. "I've got mine."

"You're kidding right?" Bobbi deadpanned.

"No." Nat lifted the phone from her pocket to prove her point.

"We could have called a cab, Tasha." Bobbi whined.

"And what would you have paid for it with? Your super cool paint-spraying mask?" Nat plucked the elastic on the mask still hanging around Bobbi's neck.

Her older sister didn't bother to dignify the bickering with a response, instead Bobbi picked up her pace and jogged the last few hundred yards to Steve's apartment building, Natasha following behind. When they reached the building, Bobbi rang the buzzer and Steve's voice came over the intercom.

"Who is it, please?" He asked.

"Nat and Bobbi." Bobbi said.

"Oh hey, guys. What's up?"

"Can we come up? We need to hide from Mom and Dad." Natasha told him.

"Sure. But I want the whole story." Steve said, and the door buzzed open.

Steve was already waiting by his front door when Bobbi and Natasha approached it. He was only a few years older than Bobbi; they'd gone to school together and had known each other since they were kids, but with his arms folded and a frown on his face, he made both sisters feel like they were back in school and being reprimanded by the principal.

"What did you do?" He asked before they could even enter his apartment.

"Hey, Steve." Nat said. "Nice to see you, too."

He stepped aside and allowed them to enter. "What did you do, Natasha?"

Nat let Bobbi pass into the living room, turning to Steve with a pout that made her look closer to twelve than nineteen. "I didn't do anything...this time."

"Oh?" Steve followed them into the living room and perched opposite the couch on the coffee table.

Bobbi glanced over at her sister sitting next to her on the couch, then back to Steve. "I did something and Mom found out and now I'm scared to go home."

"Okay." He said slowly. "Are you going to tell me what you did?"

The woman looked down at her knees, rubbing her palms over the denim. "I got married."

"You did what?" Maria Hill burst into Steve's living room with utter shock drenching her face.

Natasha giggled from beside Bobbi.

"Wait," Steve put up both hands, ignoring the fact that Maria had just appeared from his room, "Bobbi, you got married?"

She shrugged. "A little bit, yeah."

Maria leaned on Steve. "Barbara Morse-Coulson-,"

"You don't need to use my whole name-,"

"- You got married? What the hell were you doing getting married?"

Bobbi sat up straighter and looked her friend up and down. "What were you doing in Steve's bedroom?" Rumours of Maria and Steve's relationship had been making their way all the way back to Bobbi in England for a while, but Maria had insisted on the phone that nothing was going on.

Maria smirked. "Getting dressed. We had sex about thirty minutes ago."

Well that plan to deflect backfired, Bobbi thought.

Steve's face turned bright red.

"I knew you guys were at it like rabbits." Natasha laughed. "Clint owes me ten dollars." She plucked her phone out her pocket, presumably to text him. "Aww." Tasha smiled at her screen.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Oh, nothing." Natasha smiled, looking up from her phone. "So Steve, you're sexing it up with Maria. Nice."

Maria nodded. "No point hiding it now, I guess. All the secrets are out. Bobbi got married, Steve and I have been having lots of nasty sex-,"

Steve put a hand over his face. "Maria, please."

"Yes." Bobbi grimaced. "Maria, please. I don't need to know the nature of your sex life. You're my mother's best friend."

"The sex we had thirty minutes ago was on that couch."

"Ahhh." Nat and Bobbi simultaneously screamed and jumped up from the couch.

"Oh, God." Tasha backed away from the sofa. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God."

"You know." Steve said quietly. "This is not how I thought my day was going to go when I woke up this morning."

…

Clint's car was back in DC, and if he had asked, he was sure either Phil or Mel would have let him borrow theirs. Well, not Lola, but the minivan or something. As it was, Clint didn't really want to draw attention to the fact that he had left the house that morning. He was relying solely on Natasha's powers of deception and the fact that Bobbi and Hunter were home, to keep Mel and Phil from realising he was gone.

So far it seemed to be going well. He hadn't had a phone call from either one of them, yet, asking where he was. He didn't like lying to them, but there was no way he'd be able to tell them the truth. At least not yet.

Without the car, Clint had been forced to take the bus over to Trip's place, but then Trip had taken the reins and they'd used his car to drive to the place. It took much longer than Clint had expected to reach the shelter, over an hour, and it was much farther out of town that it looked on the map he'd printed off line.

But they had been successful.

"So what's the plan?" Trip asked from the driver's seat. He looked at Clint in the rear-view mirror. "You know Phil's gonna flip, right?"

Clint nodded in the back seat, then realised Trip had turned back to the road. "Yeah." He said. "But I'm hoping Phil'll just see him and fall in love like I did. Then he'll forgive me for going behind his back."

Deceiving Mel and Phil gave Clint a bad feeling in his gut, one he tried to avoid at most costs, but for the animal lying next to him in the back of Trip's car, the bad feeling was totally worth it. Taking a sixty-mile round trip to the animal shelter was worth it. Saving someone's life was always worth it. Even if the certain someone was a bit-too-skinny, bit-too-shabby, one-eyed golden retriever-like dog.

The dog (Clint still hadn't decided on a name) licked his hand. He took a photo to go with the other fifty-eight photographs of the dog Clint had taken since adopting him twenty minutes ago.

He smiled at the picture on his phone, deciding to send it to Nat. "How could Phil not love you?" He asked the dog in worrying baby talk.

"Phil doesn't like dogs, Barton." Trip laughed. "I know you got me to drive you thirty miles and to sign some paperwork for you just because the mutt had a sob story and a cute photo online, but Phil's not gonna give in like that."

Clint scratched his nails through the blonde fur and the dog made a happy chirp, nuzzling further into his lap. "Maybe I can convince Phil he would be a good guard dog."

The dog turned onto his back, demanding belly rubs and licking Clint's arms.

Trip nodded. "That's wishful thinking, man."

"Yeah, well," Clint looked down at the dog whose head lay in his lap. Big brown eyes peered up at him. "I guess I'll just have to talk to Phil man-to-man."

"You're gonna cry and beg him to let you keep the dog, aren't you?"

Clint nodded. "It worked for Nat when she asked to keep me." He looked down at his phone when it buzzed. "Damnit."

"What?"

"I owe Tash ten dollars. Steve's been doing the disappearing broom trick with Maria." Clint huffed. "I honestly thought Steve was too 'Boy Scout' not to wait until marriage."

Trip looked back at him in the mirror. "Wait, how do you know they've been doing it?"

"Tasha's over at Steve's now, apparently." Clint shrugged.

Trip smirked. "Guess we're taking a detour. I've been working with Hill and Rogers almost everyday for three years and they never even told me."

"Why would they?" The dog was poking Clint in the ribs with a big paw until he began rubbing his belly again. "It's their business who they're doing 'their business' with."

Trip laughed. "The first time you slept with Tasha you called me like an hour later to tell me."

Clint blushed. "It was not an hour later." He mumbled. "It was like the next day."

"Whatever, bro."

…

Melinda awoke to the uncomfortable feeling of someone watching her. She cautiously opened her eyes to find another pair of eyes staring back at her.

"Phil said I could come and see if you were awake." Skye said, inches from her face. "You weren't awake yet."

Mel sat up slowly, blinking past the dull headache and ignoring the undercurrent of nausea that had returned from that morning. The symptoms were getting more and more difficult to ignore and pass off as 'stress-related'. She turned her attentions back to Skye. She was her priority at the moment.

"And so you thought you would just watch me sleep?"

"Yes." Skye said.

"Okay, then."

Skye stood by the side of Mel and Phil's bed, watching as Melinda composed herself a little more, running a hand through her hair and tying it back. Skye's painting shirt was gone, but a smear of forest green paint across one of her cheeks was evidence of her time with Phil.

"You took a real long nap, you know." Skye said, resting her elbows on the edge of the bed.

"I did?" Mel glanced at the clock. It had been over three hours since she'd laid down. It felt like she'd only slept for five minutes.

"Yeah." Skye looked down at her hands. "I missed you."

Melinda loved her little girl. She shuffled along in the bed and held open the covers. "Come here." She said, and Skye climbed into the bed, snuggling in beside her.

Skye's head went to Melinda's shoulder and her thumb went into her mouth.

Mel gently extracted her thumb and pulled Skye's hand down. "No thumb during the day, sweetheart."

Skye didn't protest. Ideally, Skye wouldn't feel the need to self-soothe with her thumb at eight-years-old, but Melinda had no intentions of making her go cold turkey. The little girl had been through enough. The least they could do was let her suck her thumb at night for a little longer.

"Melinda?" Skye asked, craning her neck to look up at her.

"What's up?"

She smiled. "I just wanted to tell you that I love you. In case you forgot."

Mel could have cried. Instead, she tightened her arms around her baby girl and held her as close as she could. "I'll never forget you love me, Skye." She said. "But I'll never get tired of hearing you tell me."

"Good." Skye said. "'Cause I love you."

"Hey, Skye?"

"Yeah?"

Mel rubbed their noses together. "I love you."

Skye grinned and hugged her tightly. "We painted the fence." She said, wrapping one arm around Melinda's middle. "And Phil says I can help him paint the fence in the front yard next weekend."

"So you had fun?" Mel asked, stroking Skye's dark hair. She pinched her cheek where the green smear remained. "It looks like you had fun."

"I liked it. And I didn't say anything about Bobbi being married." She looked up at Mel. "He knows something's going on though."

"It's okay, baby." She kissed Skye. "Don't you worry about that, okay?"

"Okay."

"So," Mel said, "I take it the rest of the kids are still away?"

Skye nodded. "Yeah."

Really, Melinda would have been happy to stay in bed all day. Lying down and dozing seemed to both abate her symptoms and distract her from dwelling on the possibility she had been desperately attempting to ignore. Having Skye in her arms gave Melinda a distraction, too. Skye seemed content to remain in bed, too, but she wanted the little girl to get an early night for school the next day, and letting her nap in the late afternoon wouldn't be helping.

"Why don't we go downstairs?" Mel said, tickling Skye's ribs.

The little girl squirmed and pressed her face into Mel's chest. "But I'm comfy."

"Me, too, little one, but it's not bedtime yet." At that, Skye pouted up at her. "Come on, baby." Mel extracted herself from Skye's grip and moved to the edge of the bed. Her lower back protested enough that she had either made a face or made a noise, because in half a second Skye was by her side.

"Are you okay?" Skye asked. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine." Mel smiled, standing up. "My back is just a little sore." And I have a terrible headache. And I constantly feel sick. And fuckfuckfuck. "I'm fine, Skye."

Skye sat in the middle of the bed, watching as Melinda moved around the room, pulling on a hoodie and her shoes.

"Are you sure, Mel?" Skye sounded worried.

Melinda ignored her headache, nausea, backache and sheer panic, to kneel in front of Skye. She rubbed a thumb over her green cheek. "Don't worry, okay? I'm okay."

"If you're sure you're okay…"

"I am." Mel kissed Skye's head. "I just need to go to the store for something."

"Ooh." Skye jumped off the bed. "Can I come?"

"No." Mel said, grabbing her wallet and heading out of the door. She was psyching herself up enough to go to the store as it was, she really didn't need to worry about Skye while she was there.

"Please can I come?" Skye asked again as they walked down the stairs. "I'll be extra good. I won't even talk."

Mel stopped at the bottom. "You can talk, Skye. Talking isn't bad."

Skye nodded. "Please, can I come?"

"No, I'm sorry. You can stay home with Phil, okay?"

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

Mel rolled her eyes. Skye was pouting and maybe it was the hormones or maybe it was just the fact that Melinda had the cutest little girl on the planet, but she found herself nodding and Skye beaming and five minutes and one very vague conversation with Phil about needing something at the store later, Mel and Skye were on their way.

"We're walking?" Skye asked, as they passed the garage and walked down the driveway.

Mel held her hand out and Skye took it. "It's not far."

"I like walking." Skye said, looking into the various yards they passed.

"Oh yeah?" And Mel was glad she's let Skye badger her into coming along on this little outing. Her constant chatter was doing a fine job of keeping Mel's anxieties at bay.

"Yeah." Skye nodded. "I used to walk to school every day when I lived at St. Agnes'. Some kids didn't like it because it was a long walk and it wasn't very nice when it was raining, but I liked it."

"Why's that?"

Skye shrugged, craning her neck to see a swing set in someone's backyard. "The longer I was walking for, the longer I was away from the orphanage."

Melinda tugged on Skye's hand and the little girl looked up at her. "You're never going back there, Skye."

The little girl peered up at her.

"I promise, baby. You're staying with me forever. Me and Phil."

Skye stopped walking abruptly and stepped in front of Mel. The little girl flung her arms around her waist and pressed her face into her stomach. Melinda's arms went around her baby.

"I believe you." Skye's words were muffled by Mel's hoodie, but were clear as day. "I'm staying forever."

In the middle of the street, Melinda dropped to her knees and gathered her daughter up in her arms. "You're staying forever."

…

When Steve answered his door, he glanced from Trip, to Clint, to the dog, and sighed heavily.

"I'm having such a weird day."

Clint grinned. "Hi, Steve."

"Hey." Steve smiled, stepping back to allow them in.

Trip clapped him on the shoulder. "So, Hill, huh?"

Steve went pink. "Yeah."

"Good on ya' dude. Oh, and by the way, Clint got a dog."

"Yeah." Clint agreed. "I got a dog."

"I noticed." Steve bent down to pet the dog. "Does it have a name?" He asked as they moved into the living room.

"Not yet." Clint said. "I'm trying a few things out in my head but so far nothing really stands out." He looked down at the dog. "I thought maybe 'Dave', but he's just not a 'Dave'. Y'know?"

Steve stared at him.

"Clint," Nat squealed, "bring our puppy over here!"

"That's where Clint went?" Bobbi asked. She was looking at Natasha. "He went to get a dog?"

"Kind of." Nat said with a guilty shrug.

"Kind of?" Bobbi repeated, looking over at Clint.

"Okay, it's 100% what happened." Nat admitted. "But you don't get to be on your high horse about this. I might not have told you Clint and I were getting a dog, but you didn't tell me that you got married. That's way worse."

"You got married, Bobbi?" Clint asked.

She nodded. "Kind of."

"Aw, congratulations." Clint grinned and rushed over, dog leash in hand, and hugged her. "I'm officially Hunter's brother, now."

Bobbi frowned. "That's definitely not how that works."

Clint ignored her, sitting down on the couch next to Natasha. She reached out to pet their dog. The dog sniffed her cautiously before deciding she was not a threat and bouncing up to lick her face.

""You're such a good puppy, aren't you?" Nat smiled.

Clint looked over at Bobbi. "I'm glad you got married. I always wanted a brother."

"You do have a brother." Trip said.

"A good brother." Clint argued.

"Wait, where did the dog come from?" Maria asked.

Trip turned to Bobbi. "Girl, you got hitched? That kid Hunter better treat you right."

"He will, Trip." Bobbi smiled.

"Seriously," Maria said, "where the hell did Clint get a dog?"

"Here," Clint said to Nat, fishing some cash out of his pocket, "your ten dollars."

Nat removed herself from the dog's slobbery kisses. "Thank you, sir." She stuffed the money in her own pocket. "I told you they were having sex."

"I know." Clint smiled.

"On this couch, too." Nat smirked.

Clint looked down at where he was sitting. "Ew."

"Don't worry. I made Steve Clorox it. It's free from…" She trailed off.

"Fluids." Clint finished. "Gross."

At the lack of attention on him, the dog 'woofed' and violently wagged his tail. Clint wrapped an arm around Nat, petting the dog with the other hand. He kissed her cheek. "We have a dog, Nat."

"We have a dog." She agreed. "Like real grown ups." Nat shook her head. "Dad's gonna kill us."

"Oh yeah. We're even more dead than Bobbi is. Does Phil know she got married?" Clint asked.

"Mom knows." Bobbi answered. "And Skye. And now you guys. So I'm hoping Mom will tell him for me and she'll make sure he doesn't flip out."

Clint nudged Nat. "How did Mel react when she found out?"

"She shouted and then we ran away." Bobbi said.

Trip smiled. "Mama Mel might have murdered your husband by now. You could be a widow, Barbara."

"The dog." Maria said again. "It came from where?"

…

Phil sat down on the couch, cup of coffee in hand, and looked around the empty room.

"Where the hell is everyone?"

The house failed to answer, and Phil took the rare and slightly disconcerting silence as an invitation to watch reruns of Project Runway without anyone judging him.

…

The store Melinda had walked them to was pretty big. Not as big as the stores Skye had been to, to get all of her new clothes, but still big enough that she was a little worried about getting lost in the aisles of cosmetics and toiletries. She held Mel's hand tighter and stuck close.

"What are we buying?" Skye asked, peering over at an elderly woman inspecting some tubes of bright lipstick.

"You can get two candies." Mel said, leading Skye further towards the back of the drugstore.

Skye looked up at her. "We came all the way here just to buy me candy?"

Mel grimaced. "Not exactly." She mumbled. "I need a few things, too."

"What do you need?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh." Skye looked up at the shelves they were passing, filled with brightly coloured boxes of medicines and vitamins. "Are you sick?"

Melinda stopped when the reached the shelves stretching across the back wall. She turned to Skye. "No, sweetheart. I'm not sick."

Skye was getting worried. She tugged on Melinda's hand. "Then why are you buying medicine?"

"I'm not buying medicine." Mel assured her. "Hey, why don't you go and get your candy, huh?"

As much as she wanted her candy, Skye didn't want to leave Melinda. The candy aisle looked to be at least two aisles over, and Skye didn't want to go alone. Mel must have sensed this because she pulled Skye into a hug and kissed her head.

"It's okay. I'll get my stuff and then we'll go get your candy, okay?"

"'Kay." Skye grinned.

"So," Melinda said, turning her attention back to the shelves, "what candy are you going to get?"

Skye thought about it, looking over to where she could see some gummy bears peeking at her from the end of an aisle. "Maybe gummy bears." She said. "Ooh, or some of that chocolate that has peanut butter in."

"Sounds good."

"Or that gum with the juice inside. I had that at school. Grant gave me one because I won in our race."

Melinda tugged on Skye's hand, pulling her from her reverie. "Let's go see what they have." She began leading Skye to the candy.

It didn't go unnoticed by Skye that Melinda was carrying three small boxes, clutching them to her chest. She tried to see what they were, but Mel's hand covered most of the writing and there were no pictures on them. Skye was about to ask her what the boxes were, concerned Melinda really was unwell and it was medicine, but then they reached the candy and choosing gummy bears or Sour Patch Kids became the eight-year-Old's priority.

…

Trip slouched by the door to Steve's living room. The apartment was cramped even for Steve and his muscles alone, so with six of them inside plus Clint and Nat's new dog, the apartment was bursting at the seams.

Steve sat next to Maria on the coffee table, absently petting the dog and looking between the people on his couch. "I don't mean to be a nag, but when do you guys plan on going home?"

"We can't go home." Bobbi said. She jerked her thumb over to her sister and Clint. "They bought a dog and I got married, or did you forget? If we go home, we might never see the light of day again."

"Actually, we adopted a dog." Clint corrected.

Trip coughed. "Excuse me. Who adopted the dog?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Fine, Trip adopted the dog on my behalf."

At Maria's confused expression, Trip elaborated. "Clint's only twenty. Not old enough for dog adoption."

The woman eyed the animal lying by her feet. "Why did you get a dog anyway? I mean, both of you are going back to DC next week. What are you going to with it then?"

Nat and Clint looked at each other. It was Nat who replied in a small voice. "We were hoping Mom and Dad wouldn't mind watching him while we were away."

Maria sighed. "Don't you think your parents have enough on their plates? With work, Skye, and now Bobbi running off and getting hitched."

"Hey." Bobbi butted in. "I married the man I love. That's way better than picking up some random dog when you can't even care for it, because it looked cute."

"They were going to kill him." Nat said, and Clint covered the dog's ears with his hands.

Trip rolled his eyes.

"They were gonna euthanize him if no one adopted him." Clint argued. "We had to adopt him."

"Okay, okay." Steve stood up, putting up both hands. The room fell silent. "Listen. Phil is going to be mad at you, no matter what." He pointed to Clint and Nat. "You guys got a dog. He's going to be pissed." Steve turned to Bobbi. "You got married. Phil's going to…" He trailed off.

"He's gonna flip his shit." Maria supplied.

Steve put a hand on her shoulder. "Not how I would have put it but yes. Point is, you all need to leave my house because you can't hide here forever."

"We can try." Bobbi muttered.

"Please leave." Steve said.

Trip straightened up. "Come on, guys. I'll drive you all home to face the music."

Nat frowned. "You just want to watch, don't you?"

"Honestly, girl," Trip grinned, "I wanna kick back with some popcorn to see how this all goes."

…

Melinda rushed Skye back to the house, left her with Phil (who was watching Project Runway, yes she did notice even though he tried to turn off the TV) in the living room, and jogged upstairs with her carrier bag of things. Along with the stuff Melinda had actually gone to the drugstore for, she had purchased a pack of gum, some rubber yellow cleaning gloves, and perhaps pointlessly, a couple of packs of condoms.

She had bought the extra items with the intention that the more she purchased, the less likely the teenager behind the counter would take notice of the three different brands of tests she bought. However, looking at the items splayed on the bathroom counter in front of her, Mel realised it would have been less weird to have simply purchased the original items she went into the store to get.

All three of the tests, despite being different brands, contained more paperwork and directions than Melinda felt was entirely necessary for an item she was going to pee on. In the end, Mel stuffed the directions back into the boxes and went with following the instructions on the outside of the boxes.

Five minutes later she was left sitting on the edge of the bathtub, heart in her mouth, and head in her hands.

"Are you sure you aren't sick?"

Mel's head whipped up to see Skye hovering by the ensuite door. The little girl was rubbing her thumb over her lips anxiously. She stepped further into the bathroom and put her bag on candy on the counter. Skye put her hands on Mel's cheeks. Melinda took a steadying breath.

"I can guarantee you, Skye," Mel said, standing up, "I'm not sick."

Skye frowned. "You look sick."

"Thanks." Mel deadpanned.

"You're welcome." The little girl said sincerely. "So," Skye dug her toe into the bedroom carpet as Mel shuffled them out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her, "if you're not sick, then what's wrong?"

Melinda sat down on the bed. "What makes you think there's something wrong?"

Skye shrugged. "Dunno."

"I'm okay, Skye." Mel said. She patted the bed beside her and Skye scrambled up onto it.

"You're not lying, right?"

"I'm telling the truth." Mel promised. "I'm not sick. I'm okay."

Skye studied her face for a moment, and for one horrifying second, Melinda honestly thought that Skye could see right through her, but then the little girl smiled and nodded.

"Good."

Melinda let out a breath. "Good."

"You did what?!" Phil's voice ripped through the house sounding plain as day in the bedroom.

Skye looked up at Mel. "Uh-oh."

"You think he knows about Bobbi?" Mel asked her daughter.

"Lance Hunter, you son of a bitch, get back here!"

"Yes." Skye smirked. "I think he might know."

Mel stood up, composing herself. She pushed everything else to the back of her mind. It could be dealt with later. Right now she had her husband to control.

"Come on, Skye." Mel said, leading her youngest out of the room. "Maybe if you look cute enough, Phil might feel too guilty to attack Hunter."

Skye batted her lashes at Mel.

"It is dangerous how adorable you are."

…

For hours Lance Hunter had been wandering the streets simply to avoid his in-law's house. Frankly, he was terrified of Bobbi's parents, and if her father had somehow found out about their marriage since he had ran away from her mother, Lance wanted to remain away from the unavoidable hostility for as long as possible.

That being said, he'd received a text from Natasha informing him that the sisters were on their way home to 'face the music' and she had wanted to know what the atmosphere at home was like. Not that Lance could have told Natasha as he'd ran away, and instead found himself admitting via text to his sister-in-law (and didn't that feel weird to call her) of his own cowardice.

In reply, Nat had told Lance to meet them back at the house. Safety in numbers and all that.

When Hunter arrived at the house, the front door was already open, and the sound of Phil Coulson's 'You did a bad thing and I'm very mad about it' voice.

Lance took a deep breath, psyched himself up, and entered the house.

…

Bobbi was infinitely pleased that Clint and Natasha had entered the house first, dog in tow, to receive the wrath of their father. She stuck back, close to Trip, as her Dad's eyes landed on the panting dog, and he slowly moved from his place of the couch, to stand in front of Clint and Natasha.

"Before you say no-," Clint tried, but Phil put a finger up to silence him.

"Tell me that you did not get a dog." He said far too calmly.

Clint slipped his hand into Nat's. "I did not get a dog."

Phil narrowed his eyes. "Are you lying to me, Clinton?"

Trip shifted beside Bobbi. You knew you were in trouble when Dad used your full name.

"Clinton Barton," Phil said, "are you lying to me?"

"Yes." Clint said quietly.

Apparently that admission was enough to break the dam, and Phil threw his arms up into the air. "For God's sake, Clint." His voice was getting louder and dog shrank back to huddle behind Natasha's legs. "How many times have I told you, you cannot have a dog in my house?"

"But Phil-,"

"But nothing." Phil seethed. "No. No dog."

Natasha took a step forward. "But Daddy-,"

Her father shook his head. "Don't you dare 'Daddy' me, Natasha. Both of you are in so much trouble. I cannot believe, you two."

"He needed someone to save him, Dad." Nat tried again. "We had to."

Phil ran a hand through his hair. "It's not even that you brought a dog here, you know that right?" He looked between the two of them. "It's that you directly disobeyed me. Disrespected the rules your mother and I have put down in this house."

Nat's fists clenched. "Well maybe if they were not such stupid rules, we not-," She stumbled over accented words and Clint squeezed her hand, "We would not have to break them."

Phil smacked a hand on his head. "I cannot believe you would do this!"

Lance Hunter pushed past Bobbi and Trip, ignoring Nat, Clint and the dog, to stand in front of Phil. He looked more terrified than anything else, and Bobbi opened her mouth to ask what he was doing when he cut her off.

"Don't be mad at Bobbi. Please. It was my fault. Honestly I talked her into getting married. I mean, it didn't take much but-,"

"You did what?!" Phil shouted, and all of the colour drained from Lance and Bobbi's faces.

"Oh no." Lance whipped around to look at Bobbi. "He wasn't mad about that, was he?"

"Nope." Bobbi said. She glanced at her father's puce face. "But now he is."

Lance skidded past her and out of the front door. He returned a moment later to press a kiss to her lips.

"I love you more than life itself." He said. "Remember that, if I don't come back." He kissed her once more, and with that, Hunter sprinted out of the front door, down the driveway and disappeared into the street.

"Lance Hunter, you son of a bitch, get back here!" Phil followed him.

"Run, Hunter, run!" Trip yelled in an exaggerated Southern accent.

Bobbi gave him a 'look'. "Not the time."

He smirked. "Your Dad really is gonna kill him."

"I think we might be too late, Mel." Skye's voice had everyone turning to see her and Melinda standing on the stairs.

Mel rubbed her eyes. "I think you're right."

"Oh my gosh." Skye squealed. "A dog!"

"Okay." Mel grabbed Skye's shoulder before she could propel herself down the stairs at the dog. "Clint, tell me you didn't get a dog."

Clint opened his mouth, but Trip stepped in. "We've been through this already. I'll save you some time. Yeah, he and Tash got a dog. Phil's mad about it, but not as mad as he is at Hunter for marrying Bobbi."

Mel sighed. "Skye, go back upstairs."

"Why?" She whined. "I wanna see the doggy."

"Please, just go upstairs. There's a lot going on, everyone looks guilty, and I suspect some of our discussion will have some colourful language I'd rather you didn't hear."

Skye pouted and folded her arms, but didn't argue. She gave the dog one last look and trotted back up the stairs.

Melinda turned to the rest of the kids. "You're all in so much trouble. Even the dog."

…

Skye was pretty bummed she'd been exiled to the upstairs. What was going on downstairs seemed a lot more interesting and she really wanted to go and play with Clint's dog, but Mel had seemed serious when she'd told her to stay upstairs, so Skye obeyed.

For a few minutes, Skye pottered around in her bedroom, playing with the few toys she had up there, but then something sweet and chewy stuck in one of her teeth reminded Skye of the half-packet of candy she still had left to eat.

"Where did I leave-," She looked around the room for the packet before realising where they were. "Oh."

Going into Mel and Phil's room without permission seemed wrong. Going into their bathroom without permission seemed really wrong, but she could picture the candy on the counter on the other side of the door so clearly, and it wasn't like she could ask either of them for permission- Mel told her to stay upstairs and Phil was, well, probably chasing Hunter around the neighbourhood.

Moral dilemma reaching its climax, Skye took the initiative and pushed open the ensuite door, rushed inside, and grabbed her candy. Her intention was to grab the packet and go, but in the process Skye knocked some of Melinda's things off the counter.

"Whoopsie." She mumbled bending down the pick up the dropped items.

At first Skye just thought the little plastic objects were some kind of weird toothbrushes with lids, but then a good look at all three had realisation drenching Skye.

She was eight, she wasn't stupid. And if the general appearance of the items weren't clues enough as to what their purpose was, the little screen in the centre of one of them confirmed Skye's suspicions.

Pregnant

"Well," Skye breathed, "at least she's not sick."

A/N: Some trivia: That bit about the "weird toothbrushes with lids" came straight from the mouth of a seven year old little girl I've been working with who found her sister's pregnancy tests in the bin.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! A lot was going on. Haha.

Review please! I love hearing from you guys. Love you. xx