"Looking for something?"

"Nope," Ward replies, continuing to rummage through the cupboard. "Just browsing."

There was bound to be something he could use. Fitz was always snacking, Simmons liked to have her tea with biscuits – where the hell was it? He pushes aside the bags of candy, nearly slamming the door in frustration.

(Sure, they had 4 different kinds of chocolate bars and 7 kinds of cereals but no biscuits whatsoever.)

He hears the slight screech and looks down to see a plate with a plastic bag of cookies on it.

"With the devil and his advocate on our tails, it's not like there's much time to bake or anything." Skye says as she tears the package. "Hopefully he'll be okay with store-bought."

"I'm sure he'll understand." Ward smiles, exchanging the cookies for a glass. He places one in the centre, arranging the rest by overlapping in a concentric circle.

"You know Hunter's going to eat these right?"

"It'll be a waste if someone doesn't."

Ward watches her by the fridge, pouring milk into a glass. "Don't." He warns before she can even raise the carton to her lips.

"Buzzkill."

"It's gross."

"Seriously?" Skye cocks her hip, arms crossed.

"I didn't – other people – shut up."

Skye laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm messing with you."

"I don't think you're gross." Ward mumbles.

"Babe, I know you don't." Skye stands on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his. She feels his arms tighten around her waist, holding her up. "Don't stay up too late."

"5 minutes." He whispers, leaning their foreheads together.

"Take your time just don't fall asleep on the couch. You'll hurt your back again."

"Yes, dear."

"Ward." Skye cringes, pushing against his chest, "Don't call me that. It's weird." Ward places her back on the ground but kept her caged in his embrace.

"I know."

She narrows her eyes before her lips tilt upwards. Ward moves the plate out of her reach but her hand is quicker, snatching a cookie. Skye takes a bite, chewing exaggeratedly.

"I can't believe you stole from Santa."

"It'll be a waste if someone doesn't." She mimicked, pecking his cheek. "Now go do your thing."

Ward takes the plate and the glass, moving to the lounge. The TV displayed a fireplace complete with the sounds of a crackling fire – Fitz had connected it to the motion sensors so that whenever someone entered the room, it would turn on.

With the warm glow (Mack had changed the lightbulbs), there was a slight welcoming feel to the normally bleak atmosphere that shrouded the Playground. There were socks held up by colourful pins on the corkboard that held their duty roster. May had made sure all the socks were boiled and disinfected, twice, before consenting to it – and clarified that it was for decoration only.

He clears off one corner of the table, stacking the papers and sorting them by reader. Ward sets the plate on top of a carefully folded napkin with the glass of milk next to it.

xxx

"Aren't you a bit too old to still believe in Santa?"

"Isn't it way past your bedtime?"

"Maybe."

Ward sighs when he sees Skye perched on the armrest. From the determined albeit slightly sleepy look on her face, he knows she won't let it go (let it slide for now, sure, and then most definitely bring it up later).

"My sister used to do it."