The thing about Skye
I didn't know what to call this so it's just her meeting the new teammates (from their perspectives)
Hunter leans back deeper into the couch with a laugh, enjoying the comfortable way it molds to his body. Out of all the places he's stayed the past few years, this trumps any motel room with their lumpy cushions.
With all the hell the world seems to be in right now, this seems like as good a place to bunk down as any.
He pauses, beer bottle half-way to his lips, when something catches his attention, and he finds himself grinning at the pretty girl with messy hair and pjs with little pictures on them hesitating in the entrance way.
Hunter sits up in interest.
"Sorry," she says, eyes roving around the room, taking in his relaxing team and the casual spread they have admittedly taken over the common room lounge with. "I thought everyone would have gone to bed by now."
"We can sleep when we're dead," Izzy shrugs lazily.
The girl blinks. "I'll leave you to it, then," she says and starts to back out of the room.
"Now, hold on, mate," Hunter can't help speaking up. "You must be up for a reason. You a night bird, too? Why don't you keep us company? We have pizza."
The girl stares at him with expressionless and tired looking eyes. She blinks slowly, taking in his easy smile, and then the beer in his hand and the few bottles scattered on the low table in front of him.
"I don't like to be around drunks," she says, wiping the smile off Hunter's face.
Idaho snorts loudly, while Hartley winces in mock sympathy. "Ouch!" she crows, but Hunter's eyes don't leave the girl who looks ready to bolt.
He takes in the tension in her shoulders, the weary way she eyes the empty bottles, and remembers his own father and how he turned into someone else when he got a few drinks in. Someone with heavy hands and loose, hurtful, lips that spouted hateful things.
The beer in Hunter's stomach suddenly curdles a bit- the aftertaste turning a bit sour. He hops to his feet.
"Alright then," he says lightly, and then starts plucking up the few bottles they've
managed to get through. The plan was to get completely trashed in celebration of their (admittedly fancy) new job, but they can be flexible. It's what's kept them alive so far. "But you have to find something else for us to pass the time by."
"Wait, seriously?" Idaho gapes as Hunter plucks his drink right out of his hand and discards it down the sink before the bottle joins all the others in the bin. Izzy gets it, though. She shoots him an understanding look and helps to clear out a bit of the mess they made.
When he settles back down on the couch, he's half surprised that the girl is still standing there in the doorway. She hasn't come any closer, but she hasn't run away, either. She scrutinizes him uncertainty.
"You even old enough to drink?" Hunter ribs lightly, hoping for her to just stop looking at him like that. He got enough analyzing from his ex-wife (God, he still loves that demonic hellbeast).
The girl hesitates one more moment before striding into the room, turning her attention to the entertainment stand. She shrugs with her back to them.
"Not sure, actually. I was left in front of an orphanage as a baby so the nuns just made up a day to put on the papers." She turns and stands like that wasn't just the saddest thing they've ever heard. She hands him a controller to a play station. "I'm Skye, by the way."
He takes it, feeling a bit out of place as she perches on the arm of the couch furthest away from all of them, and they pretend that they don't notice her stiff muscles- ready to run- and uneasy glances periodically thrown their way.
"Hunter," he says, and passes her the pizza box with the last few cold slices.
…
Fixing and tinkering things has always been a bit like meditating to Mack. He gets in the zone, and any problems or bad thoughts just fall away. It's just him and his tools, and solving a problem.
A lot of the things he tinkers with at SHIELD are a bit more complicated than his bike or an old radio, though. And it's interesting and entertaining, but there is just something about the peace of autopilot and not having to think.
He pulls open the driver side door, intending to pop the hood, only to pause as he's abruptly brought out of his head by something unexpected.
That something unexpected is big, sleep heavy, brown eyes blinking at him from the back seat.
He closes the door and opens the one to the back, instead, and ducks his head in.
"Um," he says, and the girl he's seen around sits up with a groan, scrubbing harshly at her eyes.
"Sorry, Mack," she sighs. "All this new influx of personnel is throwing me off. I'm used to a small team and I still haven't learned where most of the foot traffic doesn't go."
Mack hesitates, before ducking into the back seat and folding his legs into the floorboards. Luckily, the SUVs SHIELD uses tend to be on the bigger side, and he fits. He leaves the door open because he knows his stature and skin color tend to be largely intimidating. This girl, though, doesn't seem too concerned as she just watches him with lidded raccoon eyes.
"You know me?" Mack asks, because they haven't really interacted much at all. He, of course, knows who she is. The unknown that popped out of the ether and joined Coulson's special team. Loyal to a fault, but not to SHIELD.
"Yeah, um," she blinks slowly, and her speech (even without the eye bags) makes it obvious she hasn't been sleeping. He wonders why the back of an SUV seems like the optimal place for a nap, rather than her bunk. Where there is no chance of running into that new foot traffic she's not used to yet. "You've been helping Fitz."
"With the cloaking, yeah," Mack shrugs. "But it's mostly him-"
"No," Agent Skye says firmly, effectively cutting Mack off. "You've been helping Fitz." She reaches out, and grasps his arm. He's never seen her go out of her way to interact with anyone other than May and Fitz and Coulson, and it startles him. This whole interaction is unexpected. "Thanks."
And maybe her loyalty extends to more than just the false Director. Maybe it can be broadened. He wonders what that must feel like, to have someone look up to you so completely, no matter your faults.
He tries hard not to think about his daughter that never got the chance to look up to him.
…
It always takes Bobbi a few days to adjust to being back on base after an extended undercover assignment. To adjust to not being on guard 24/7, always ready in case her cover is blown.
It usually means for a few sleepless nights those first few days, and Bobbi shifts in her sheets one more time, glancing at the glowing numbers on her clock, before calling it a lost cause. She climbs out of bed and ventures out into the quiet base, only pausing to slip on some shoes. Her sleep clothes are near enough to workout clothes that she won't be embarrassed being caught in them.
There is always someone awake on base, but at night it's drastically fewer with only the people on the graveyard shift- and they don't tend to come into this part. So Bobbi doesn't run into anyone in the dimmed corridors, which are only lit by small safety lights every few meters down the halls.
Those lights don't follow her into the common area where the kitchen and entertainment center is. She only saw it briefly the other day. She'd probably rather head down to the gym, but she hasn't been shown that yet, and although she could probably find it on her own, she doesn't feel like getting asked what she's doing up when she inevitably gets lost a few times.
So the kitchen it is, and she moves into it without bothering with the light switch.
"So, you were the super secret inside man keeping Simmons safe."
"What the FU-" Bobbi jumps, spinning on her heel and automatically reaching for her batons that she didn't bother to grab.
"Sorry," the voice sounds like it grimaces as a shadow reaches out sideways. The stove light is clicked on, sending the small area into sudden light and making Bobbi blink several times as her eyes adjust.
It's the hacker girl, Skye No-last-name, that literally came out of nowhere a little over a year and a half ago and joined Coulson's crew, became an agent for a literal five minutes before SHIELD fell, and suddenly became one of the most trusted agents in the entire, barely-surviving, agency. And here she is at 3:00 AM, perched on top of the refrigerator, and wearing obnoxiously childish fire truck pajama pants with fuzzy socks.
"Why are you sitting up there in the dark?" Bobbi demands, calming slightly but still feeling on edge because she didn't see her. Didn't realize she was there until she deigned to announce her presence.
The girl shrugs, pushing a much too large sweatshirt back up over her shoulder when it droops. Is that Macks? "I'm not sure. I just…" She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her overly-long sleeves before abruptly stopping and folding her hands over her bent knees. She shrugs again.
She looks so young. Like- could still be in high school, young. It makes a deep unease settle in Bobbi's gut.
"So… you kept Jemma safe. Got her out."
Bobbi moves slowly towards the cupboards, pulling them open until she finds the glasses. "That was my job," Bobbi says, and doesn't mention how Simmons shouldn't have been in the field like that at all. Skye lifts her legs a bit to allow the refrigerator door to open unimpeded.
"Jemma is an awful liar," she says, and Bobbi looks up sharply to see far too much weariness and fear in someone who looks like she should be going to parties and worrying about science tests.
"She did all right," Bobbi lies flippantly- like it's actually true- and then changes the subject because she's feeling uncomfortable. "You want some?" She lifts the orange juice jug. The younger agent nods. If Skye is going to be in this line of work, she should learn not to get so attached to people. Make friends, but keep them at a distance. It's safer that way.
As she hands the glass up to Skye (like she doesn't still find this location completely odd to be sitting in the dark in), she catches Bobbi's hand and squeezes.
"Even if it was just your job, thank you for protecting her."
Bobbi abruptly realizes that the darkness she thought were shadows playing on her face, are actually tokens of sleepless nights. This girl shouldn't be an agent. She's too fragile. Too affected.
It will break her.
Despite herself, Bobbi's chest warms at the heartfelt thanks. Spies don't tend to get acknowledgement for their work. Or appreciation for it.
A/N: So, meet the new team. You are going to get very close to them in the coming years. The way to Skye's heart is to protect it.
~Silver~