Hi again! I'm happy you're here :) These soccer chapters ended up longer than I expected, but they were fun to write, so I hope you don't mind the extra length!

TW for minor swearing

Skye and Jemma had both been excited when Phil had told them about their new evening plans on the car ride home from school, Skye especially. Jemma was still behaving sort of tentatively, not looking up much and saying even less, but at least she smiled when Phil began to explain how much fun the high school soccer games usually were. Skye, on the other hand, didn't seem chastened at all from the morning's events, and was practically bouncing up and down in her seat at the prospect of going to a game.

"Do you think there'll be lots of people there?" she asked. "What about those trumpet thingies they used at those games on TV a long time ago?"

"Vuvuzelas," Jemma supplied, without a second thought.

"Yeah, those. Do people bring those? Will they have popcorn, do you think? I've always wanted to get popcorn in one of those red boxes like you see in movies."

Phil was chuckling at her enthusiasm, and Bobbi found herself failing to conceal a smile. It was nice to see someone so excited about soccer. It had been a while since Bobbi had gotten to see that, much less feel it, and it was starting to become infectious.

"Skye, I didn't realize you liked soccer so much," Phil laughed. "We could have gone to a game sooner if I'd known."

Skye shrugged. "I don't really know anything about it. One of my old foster brothers really liked it, so it was on TV all the time, and it seemed like it would be fun. The fans looked like they we're having a good time. Plus, I've never been to a game before."

"A soccer game?" Phil asked.

"Any game," Skye said matter-of-factly. "I hope they win. That would be fun."

"It would," Phil agreed. "It's always exciting when that happens. Even if they don't, though, the games are usually lots of fun. The girls play hard, and they're pretty good this year, from what I've heard."

"Do you like soccer, Jemma?" Bobbi asked. She was hoping to coax the younger girl into the conversation. After what had happened this morning, Bobbi felt like it would be good of her to be more aware of Jemma's feelings. If people had mistreated her or done something that made her get so nervous now when people got in trouble, well… Bobbi understood that. One of the worst things about feeling like that was how alone it could make you feel, and Bobbi was determined to make sure that Jemma, and Skye too, for that matter, knew she could look to Bobbi to be a friendly face.

"Some," Jemma said after a moment. "My mum really liked a club in England called Watford, but it was hard for her to watch them once we moved here. She would make paper rosettes in their colors for us to wear on match days, though, even if we couldn't see."

"That sounds like a lot of fun," Phil smiled. They were nearing the house, and he eased the car into the driveway. "Maybe if you two finish your homework we can make some ourselves before we leave tonight."

"Maybe." Jemma looked down at her lap, where her fingers were twisting together. She wore a lemony expression. It was hard for Bobbi to put a label on – a little like a mixture of confused, nervous, and sad.

"Only if you want to," Phil said gently. "If you'd rather keep that memory for yourself, that's okay, too."

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course, kiddo. You can take as long as you need. Let's get inside, shall we? It's getting hot sitting here in this car."

The Coulson house was in disarray by the time Hunter pulled up out front and gave two quick blasts on his horn to let Bobbi know that he had arrived. Phil had spent most of the afternoon trying to wrangle Skye into doing her math homework, but she hadn't been able to focus or sit still hardly at all. She kept getting up from the table to go get things she had forgotten in her room, or to get water, or any variety of other excuses she had cooked up. Phil was being patient with her, and Jemma didn't seem phased by it at all, but Bobbi had a hard time concentrating on her own work with all the up and down and constant chatter Skye was supplying them with.

As the time drew closer to six, Phil began to split his time between the homework table and the kitchen stove, where he was trying to throw together a quick dinner. He had a pot of yellow rice simmering on one eye, and a pot of black beans on the other, and was also trying to prod Skye back into her seat so she could continue her worksheet on ratios.

"Do you want help?" Bobbi found herself asking. She cooked all the time for her dad, and she had given up on trying to finish her gerund conjugations for Spanish. The conjugations weren't hard, but concentrating was.

"No, you don't have to—" Phil began. One of the lids on the pots started rattling as it began to bubble over. He dashed back over to the stove and adjusted the heat. "Well, actually, if you wouldn't mind… I guess I'm a little in over my head." He smiled sheepishly. Bobbi got to her feet and clacked her way over to the stove, balancing on her crutches once she arrived so she'd have free use of her hands.

"I can help, too," Skye offered, popping up from her seat again.

"You can help once you're finished with your math," Phil said firmly. "You're so close, you only have three problems left." Skye pouted, but sat back down and picked up her pencil once more. At the same time, Jemma set hers down and began to pack her own things back up into her backpack. Apparently, she was finished with her work.

"I think," she started to say, but her voice was lost in the din of the kitchen. She tried again, a little louder. "I think we could make rosettes. That would be okay."

"That's great, sweetie," Phil smiled. Bobbi couldn't be sure, but his eyes looked tired to her. "Why don't you go and get some paper from the office. I think we have some colored sheets in there. The school colors are red and black, so see if you can find something that will work."

"I'm done," Skye announced. She slid her sheet across the table towards Phil. "Will you check it?" Jemma disappeared towards the office, and Phil bent over Skye's homework, leaving Bobbi with the cooking. She tipped the lid off of the beans pot to give the mixture a stir when a sudden bubble of liquid burst out of the pot and splashed onto the front of her shirt. She reeled back, almost losing her balance, and Phil looked up at the commotion.

"Oh my gosh, Bobbi, are you okay?" He was at her side almost immediately, a steady hand on her upper arm to help her stabilize herself. Without meaning to, she flinched away from his touch, and Phil quickly pulled his hand back to his side.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's okay," Bobbi cut him off. Okay, okay, okay. She knew he wasn't trying to upset her. He didn't need to apologize for her being overly sensitive.

"Are you hurt? Did you get burned?" he asked, his voice full of worry.

"No," Bobbi said again. "It just got on my shirt is all. I think I have to go change." She was on her way out of the kitchen when Jemma came back in, a stack of white paper in her hands.

"This was all I could find. There wasn't a very clear organizational system in the office."

"That's probably true," admitted Phil. "I'll help you look in a second. Bobbi, go change, I'll watch the stove. Skye, you need to check those last two again."

Skye groaned, and Jemma darted out of the kitchen again, almost bumping into Bobbi on her way out. Bobbi teetered in the doorway before righting herself once more and heading for the stairs. The house was rarely what Bobbi would call calm, but this was verging on chaotic.

She was in her room when she heard the front door open and close, signaling the arrival of May, and had just wrestled her stained shirt off when the honk of Hunter's horn rang out. Perfect.

Frantically, Bobbi rifled through her drawers, looking for a new shirt to put on. What was someone supposed to wear to her first ever outing with friends at a new school, anyway? She was still digging when she heard May's voice calling to her from the bottom of the stairs.

"Bobbi? I think your friends are here."

Bobbi let out a huff of frustration. Everything was happening too fast and too much and she needed a second to get her head on straight, but Hunter was waiting.

"Bobbi?" A knock came softly on her bedroom door. "Everything okay in there?" It was May.

"I—" A strangled sounding noise escaped from Bobbi's mouth, and she cleared her throat to try again, hoping May hadn't heard. Okay. "I'm just trying to find a new shirt."

"Okay," May said. It was hard to tell what she was thinking without seeing her face. "I can go tell your friends you'll be right out." The sound of retreating footsteps drifted underneath the door, and Bobbi found herself filled with an overwhelming urge to ask May for help. She had no idea where the impulse came from, but she heard herself calling for May to wait before she could process the thought fully. The footsteps stopped.

"Will you… I…" Bobbi grit her teeth and squeezed hard on her crutches. She needed to just spit it out. Hunter was waiting on her. "I don't know what to wear."

"I'm happy to help," May said from the other side of the door. "Would you like me to come in?" Hurriedly, Bobbi pulled her old shirt back over her head before opening the door slightly for May to slide into the room.

"Well I can see why you'd like to change," May smiled, gesturing to the large black bean stain that filled up most of Bobbi's stomach. Bobbi tugged the corner of her mouth up in a half-hearted return. "Why don't you pick something comfortable? Something that makes you feel good when you wear it?"

"Is that okay?" Bobbi asked. "I mean, to just wear something normal and comfortable when you're meeting up with friends?" She was worried she was sounding stupid, like she didn't know how to dress herself, but May didn't look bothered by the question.

"Of course," May laughed. "It's just a soccer game, Bobbi. Most people don't get dressed up when they're just going to hang out." She paused. "Unless this is more than just hanging out?"

"No," Bobbi said quickly, her cheeks growing warm. "No. I mean, I don't think so. Hunter's picking me up, but Mack and Natasha and Clint are all going to be there. I just don't have a lot of experience hanging out."

"Well then, casual comfort sounds like the way to go," said May. Somewhat emboldened to make a decision, Bobbi settled on one of her favorite t-shirts. The bruises on her arms had all fully healed, so she wouldn't get suspicious looks wearing short sleeves, and it was still unseasonably warm for October, so a t-shirt wouldn't leave her feeling cold by the end of the night.

"Star Wars, nice," May smiled, giving the shirt a quick once-over. "Phil's going to be over the moon when he sees that. He loves those movies."

"They're some of my favorites," Bobbi admitted. "My dad took me to go see Revenge of the Sith in the movie theater when I was six. That was before my mom left, so he still did fun stuff with me back then. My mom got all mad at him for showing me a PG-13 movie, and they got in a big fight later, but the movie was good. Kind of sad, I guess."

"I'll let you in on a secret," May whispered. "Phil always cries during the Order-66 scene. I can't say I blame him. That one's rough, especially when you're like Phil and know all the names and backstories of the random Jedi they show." Bobbi nodded seriously. She knew what May meant.

"Okay, well, I'll let you get changed," May said then, making her way to the door. "Make sure you take a jacket or a sweatshirt with you. I know it's warm now, but when the sun goes down it might get chilly. Have fun with your friends, and Phil and I will see you later on, okay?" Bobbi nodded again.

She changed quickly and ran a brush through her hair for good measure. All of the shirts going on and off had tousled it more than she cared for. Before leaving, she decided to pull her batons out from underneath her pillow where she'd stashed them and give them a quick twirl to release some of the tension that had been building up in her arms all afternoon. It wasn't a long spin, but it was enough to help her feel steady as she hobbled down the stairs and out to the street where Hunter was waiting.

Hunter's car was almost exactly what Bobbi would have guessed it would be, given what she knew about him. It was a dusty and dingy-looking sedan with the kind of squared-off angles and bulky headlights that indicated it was probably older than Hunter himself. There was rust creeping out of some of the wheel wells and it looked like the back bumper had been reaffixed with duct tape, but Bobbi thought it was one of best-looking cars she had ever seen. It just seemed to fit Hunter so well that she couldn't see the car as anything but perfect.

"Hey, Bobbi! Front seat's open for you," Hunter hollered out of the open window. "The handle sticks a bit, but it'll come open if you jiggle it a second." Bobbi loped down to the car and over to the passenger side. Glancing in the back, she noticed a wiry-looking boy about Skye and Jemma's age talking animatedly to a bemused Mack, who was folded up into a seat of his own.

"Didn't you want the front, Mack?" Bobbi asked as she clambered in. His knees were practically scrunched up to his chest in the cramped backseat.

"Nah," Mack waved her off. "Front's easier with your crutches, plus it means I get to hang with Turbo, here."

Bobbi twisted around in her seat to get a good look at the boy she now understood to be Hunter's cousin. He didn't look much like him, Bobbi thought, besides the shape of their chins, which had a similar point, and possibly their noses, which were both somewhat long and narrow. The boy had rounder cheeks and ears that stuck out from his head, plus hair that was much thicker and curlier than Hunter's.

"That's my cousin Leo," Hunter said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the boy. "Anyone who's not one of our mums calls him Fitz, though."

"Hello," Fitz waved. "We were just talking about the pros and cons of playing football on a grass versus turf field. They put turf in at the high school over the summer and Mack thinks it changes the way the ball rolls. He's right, of course, the friction patterns are completely altered when such a drastically different material is used."

"Oh." Bobbi was a little taken aback by the abruptness with which Fitz had struck up a conversation, and about turf no less.

"I didn't say it like that," Mack chuckled, "but I know the ball's been spinning differently for me this year."

"Turf can be tricky," Bobbi remarked. The field at her old school in Two Rivers had been grass, and she always knew to prepare herself for an extra challenge managing the ball when they played at schools with turf fields.

"Plus it's a killer to tackle on," Hunter griped. "You get scrapes that are way worse when you slide on turf than grass. I've come home all bloodied up from practice more times than I can count already this year."

"I suppose they switched it over because it's easier to play American football on," Fitz mused. "They probably benefit from the altered traction. Plus, the upkeep is brought to a minimum with artificial turf."

"No watering, no mowing," nodded Mack. "I bet the school must have gotten tired of paying somebody to take care of the grass all the time."

"Not that I don't find discussions of plastic grass fascinating," Hunter interceded, before Fitz could reply. "But might I recommend a change of subject now that we've got a full car? Maybe something that won't put the driver to sleep?"

Mack laughed, and Fitz scrunched up his nose at the back of Hunter's head. Bobbi was reminded of Skye for a brief moment, and the way she would pretend to be upset and pull faces when things didn't go her way. Still, he wasn't much deterred, apparently, since he began to chirp away about the upcoming game without missing a beat.

"They're anticipating that Mishicot's going to play an aggressive game tonight," he said. "They've apparently got an all-state striker that they're leaning on heavily, and tradition dictates that the team won't be playing conservatively."

"We can take 'em," Mack said confidently. "Elena's the best midfielder we've had in years, so they'll have to work hard to get past her."

"Plus there's that senior girl, Alicia," Hunter added. He kept his eyes on the road, which Bobbi appreciated. For someone who acted as lackadaisical as he did, Hunter was a remarkably safe driver. "She's one of our defenders. She's so good at defending it seems like there're two of her out there at a time," he explained for Bobbi's benefit. "Bobbi, we never asked, what position do you usually play?"

"We used a 4-3-3 formation, so I mostly played right mid. Sometimes I'd slide up to a right striker if we needed to rotate," Bobbi said. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and she hoped she wasn't blushing noticeably. Talking about herself made her feel awkward, especially in a car full of people who clearly knew a lot about the game. "I played stopper as a freshman, mostly because that was where they needed somebody, but I like midfield a lot better."

"You were varsity as a freshman?" Mack asked, impressed. Bobbi nodded sheepishly.

"Sounds like somebody else we know," Hunter teased, glanding at Mack in the rearview mirror. Mack shot him a look, but didn't make a further comment.

"Our girls mostly run a 4-2-4," continued Hunter, "so you'd have to shift a little if you played with them, but it sounds like that wouldn't be much of an issue for you."

"So far this is the only issue I'm worried about when it comes to soccer," Bobbi said, gesturing towards her braced knee. "I still don't even know if I'm going to ever be able to play again." Her throat tightened at the thought, but she swallowed hard to send the fear back down to her stomach.

"A lot of athletes make full recoveries from knee injuries," Fitz piped up. "Is yours an ACL issue?"

"Fitz, shut it," Hunter warned. "It's rude to ask people about their injuries."

"No, it's okay," Bobbi assured them. Something about Fitz's inquisitiveness regarding her health and his persistent need to ask questions reminded her of Jemma, and the thought made her smile. "It's my kneecap, actually. It got fractured about a month ago. I had surgery on it, and the doctors said it was a clean break, which helped, I guess. I'm seeing a physical therapist. I'm still not supposed to move it, so he hasn't done much with me yet, but he's helping me keep the rest of my leg strong." Fitz's mouth fell open into a perfect "o."

"You said your name was Bobbi, right?"

"Yes, Fitz, pay attention, mate," Hunter groaned. He turned his head slightly towards Bobbi. "The kid's brilliant, but he can be thick as a plank sometimes. He's not the most observant."

"I am too," Fitz protested, jutting out his chin and crossing his arms stubbornly across his chest. "I notice more things than you. Things that are interesting to me, at least. Like this morning, I noticed that my Tandem-X rocket was almost four centimeters away from where I left it last night, so I know you touched it—"

"I bumped into the table," Hunter explained. "I tried to put it back. Can you skip to the point, please?"

"I was just going to say that my best friends have a foster sister named Bobbi who has a fractured knee. It's an interesting coincidence."

"Wait," said Bobbi, twisting around in her seat again. What should have been an obvious realization was crashing over her. "You're Fitz Fitz? Like, Skye and Jemma's friend, Fitz?"

"You know Jemma and Skye?" Fitz looked gobsmacked. Bobbi could almost see the wheel turning in his head. "So then… it's not a coincidence. Or rather, it is a coincidence, just an entirely different one from what I thought!"

Hunter and Mack were both cackling in their seats.

"I can't believe we didn't figure out you all knew each other sooner," Hunter crowed. "I owe you an apology, Fitz, it's not just you that's thick as a plank. I should have put the pieces together weeks ago."

"They're coming tonight," Bobbi told Fitz with a smile. Now she understood why so many of his mannerisms reminded her of her foster sisters – it was no wonder the three of them had become fast friends. Fitz wore an expression of pure glee at the news. Before she knew it, he was off and jabbering on about how smart and funny his two best friends were, and how they ate lunch together and how he and Jemma had all of their classes together. It was kind of cute to hear how much the girls meant to him, and Bobbi appreciated learning about what Skye and Jemma were like away from home.

Hunter pulled up outside the stadium a few minutes later and eked them into a narrow parking spot on a side street. They all piled out of the car, and Bobbi got a good look at Hunter as he stretched himself into a standing position. He was wearing a clean t-shirt and jeans, which boosted her own confidence in her outfit choice, and his hair was still a little damp with comb lines in it, which made Bobbi think he had taken a shower right before coming to get her. She supposed that made sense, if he and Mack had come from practice. His t-shirt hung neatly off his sharp shoulders and down to his waist, where the hem fell just past the waistband of his jeans. When he stretched his arms upward, the shirt rose slightly, revealing a section of pale, smooth stomach. Something in her intestines flipped, like an Olympic diver working on her routine, and suddenly her neck felt warm.

Hunter caught her watching him, and he flashed a cheeky grin her way. "Checking out the view?" Bobbi felt her face go scarlet, and she wanted to knock herself out with one of her crutches so that she wouldn't have to admit that she had, in fact, been doing just that. It wasn't like she liked him or anything, of course. She wasn't checking him out like that. It had just been a simple observation. Quickly, she decided the safest reply was a sarcastic one, to try and deflect his attention.

"You wish," she teased. Mack cracked up, and even Hunter started to laugh. Bobbi let out a sigh of relief knowing that she had dodged a bullet.

"I'm sure Bobbi has way better taste than to be checking you out," Mack joked, knocking his gigantic shoulder into Hunter's.

"I consider myself a catch, thank you very much," Hunter protested. He massaged his shoulder like Mack had hurt him, but he was smiling, so Bobbi figured he was just playing.

"Can we go in now?" Fitz called impatiently. His face was all scrunched up like he didn't have time to wait around on a bunch of high schoolers joking around, which made them all start laughing again.

"All right, all right," Hunter assuaged, leading the way to the front gate. "Don't lose your hairnet, Fitz, we're coming."

When they got to the gate, Bobbi was hit with the sickening realization that she didn't have any money to pay for her ticket. She hadn't thought about it beforehand, and even if she had, she wasn't sure she would have had the courage to ask Phil for money. She hung back and started rocking absentmindedly on her crutches, trying to figure out how to tell the boys she was going to wait outside the gate for Phil and the rest of the family to get there without them getting suspicious. Mack noticed her sudden change in demeanor.

"You all right, Bobbi?" he asked. All right. Right. Wrong. This was all wrong.

"Yeah, I…" Bobbi spluttered. "I just realized I… need to wait for Phil for something." Mack looked confused, and opened his mouth like he was about to ask her what was going on. Before he could say anything, Hunter, who had been watching with an unreadable expression, handed a few extra dollars to the woman selling tickets and brought over the new ticket. He stuck it out in front of Bobbi.

"Go on, take it," Hunter said. When Bobbi didn't make any immediate movements, he pressed it into her hand. "I'm serious. I'm buying for me and Fitz anyways. You can pay me back later if you're really that fussed about it, but it's not a big deal." Big deal. Big.

Bobbi tried to protest, but Hunter wouldn't hear it. "If you still need to wait for Mr. Coulson, you can do it inside the gate. Come on, we're going to miss the warm-ups."

Wordlessly, Bobbi took the ticket and followed the boys through the gate and into the stadium. She had no idea how Hunter had known what the issue was, and she couldn't decide if she was grateful for his help or embarrassed that she'd needed it. Once they were inside, she managed to choke out a "thank you," which Hunter waved off.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'll pay you back," she promised.

"Only if you want to," shrugged Hunter. "It really doesn't matter to me either way. I'm just happy we got Fitz through the gate before he combusted." Bobbi glanced over at Fitz, who was zipping back and forth between Hunter and Mack, pointing out different players who were warming up on the field and commenting on their strengths and weaknesses. It was a mystery to Bobbi how he knew so much about all of the girls in front of him, but she didn't question his knowledge. She could see how the Mishicot girl, who Fitz said would be favoring her left, was being careful about how much weight she put on her right foot, so she figured the girl was nursing an injury and that Fitz would be right. She could see how sharply and precisely the Mishicot girl who she figured must be their star striker drilled her practice shots into the back of the net, confirming Fitz's observation that she would be the one they needed to look out for. He was a little odd, but the kid knew his soccer.

"There's Clint and Nat," Mack said, pointing over to the home stands and waving. "Let's go."

They made their way up to the stands, where Natasha and Clint were already waiting for them. They both smiled at the approaching group and waved hello. Clint looked red-faced and hot, but was laughing uproariously at something Natasha had said just before they came into earshot.

"There is no way that really happened," Clint wheezed. "That's too unbelievably perfect."

"I'm serious, I saw Gonzales check his moustache in the reflection of his car window and fix it with a tiny little moustache comb before he got in and drove away," said Natasha. She was laughing too, and she pantomimed their Spanish teacher combing his walrus mustache, which sent Clint into another fit of giggles.

"Gonzales? That grumpy Spanish teacher you lot have?" Hunter asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"He's not grumpy," said Bobbi, coming to the defense of the man who was quickly becoming one of her favorite teachers. "He just takes things seriously."

"Like his moustache grooming, apparently," Mack snorted. "That's probably the best thing I've heard all day, Nat." He plunked himself down on the bleachers next to Clint and made a face. "Dude, you reek. Didn't you shower in between practice and now?"

"Nah." Clint flapped a hand as if to clear Mack's comment from the air, or possibly his own sweaty B.O. "Wasn't enough time to drive all the way home and make it back in time to scout the warmups. Natasha doesn't mind, do you, Nat?" He threw an arm around her shoulders, which she wasted no time in squirming out from under.

"Oh, I mind very much," she teased, "I'm just too nice to tell you that you stink."

"Well I know that's not true, because you're never nice to me," Clint ribbed back.

"You're such a liar," she laughed, giving him a playful shove. "Who was your only friend when you first moved here from Iowa all those years ago?"

"No, no, you're remembering it wrong," laughed Clint. "I was your only friend, because I was the only one who didn't mind that you still spoke mostly Russian. I'd just tune you out if you abandoned the English language, so it didn't bother me one bit."

"You're such a little twerp, you know that?" Natasha said with feigned outrage. Mack and Hunter were cracking up. "I can't believe you muted me!"

"Don't act so surprised," shrugged Clint. "I do it all the time." To prove his point, he reached up towards his ears and fiddled with his hearing aids. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly louder than normal. "Now I can focus on getting the rundown on these Mishicot clowns."

"You're so annoying," Natasha teased. As she spoke, she chopped her right hand into the space between her thumb and index finger on her left hand two times right where Clint could see it. Clint scowled and held out his left hand flat, then flicked the middle finger of his right hand across it towards Natasha.

"I'm not being rude," she chuckled. "You're the one who tuned us out. Turn them back on, please?" She used the same sign Bobbi had seen her use on the day they'd met, where she tapped her hooked pointer finger against the side of her head. Clint rolled his eyes, but smiled and turned his hearing aids back on.

"Honestly, she's more of a pain in ASL than in spoken English," he joked. "Never should have taught her anything."

"Something tells me that wouldn't have stopped her," said Mack jovially. "She and Bobbi have that language-brain thing going on. She learns fast."

Bobbi felt a sudden tugging on the sleeve of her shirt, and she craned her neck behind her to see Fitz, looking a little disgruntled and pulling on her cuff.

"When are Jemma and Skye getting here?" he asked. He had puppy dog eyes and a baleful expression, and Bobbi couldn't help but feel bad for him, having to sit there and listen to his cousin's friends laugh at inside jokes. She leaned back slightly so that she could speak with Fitz more directly while the others continued to chat amongst themselves.

"I don't know for sure, but I bet it'll be soon," she promised him. "They were going to eat dinner, maybe. I don't think Phil was thinking about getting here in time for warmups, just in time for the game to start." Fitz nodded solemnly and retrained his gaze on the soccer field.

"Why do you all like to get here so early anyways?" Bobbi asked him. She figured if his friends weren't here yet, the least she could do was try and make some small talk to entertain him.

"Well, part of it is because none of us really has anything better to do, I suppose," he said matter-of-factly. "My homework barely takes any time at all, and Lance doesn't like to do his, and none of them do much besides watch football, talk about football, or play football, at least when it's in season. Sometimes they watch movies, I think, but I'm not allowed to come to that. Sometimes they play video games, and I am allowed to come then. Mack plays with me, mostly. He's good at Tank Troopers and Call of Duty, especially zombie mode, but I'm better at ones like XCOM 2 and Warhammer." Bobbi didn't know the first thing about video games, so it sounded to her like Fitz was speaking gibberish.

"What's the other part of it?" she asked in an effort to steer the conversation back to something she could keep up with. "Why come so early?"

"Mostly it's because we just like football," he grinned. "We like to get here in time to see the other team warm up, so we can figure out their strengths and weaknesses. I like to try and guess what positioning and strategies the other side's going to use before the game starts, and then see if I'm right later on. Also they get to talk when the teams are still warming up. We don't do a lot of talking once the game starts." Bobbi nodded thoughtfully.

"So like a scouting report?" she said after a minute.

Fitz pumped his head up and down. "Exactly."

"Cool," smiled Bobbi. If she hadn't been sure before, this confirmed that these were people she could fit in with. She had loved reviewing film and studying her opponents before meeting them on the field. It was like a puzzle or a game to her, to pick out the things she'd need to know to exploit their weaknesses and dismantle their strengths.

"Here come our girls," Hunter said, elbowing Bobbi in the side and interrupting her thoughts. He pointed down to the field where a squad of a dozen or so girls in Manitowoc red and black were trooping into place. Bobbi spotted Elena right away, her long hair tied back and her legs flexing powerfully as she jogged onto the field and began jumping and stretching in place. She cast her eyes sideways and noticed that Mack's gaze was glued onto the younger girl, but she didn't mention it. It was nice that Elena had someone as kind as Mack looking out for her and cheering her on, and she didn't want to make Mack feel self-conscious about it.

"That's Alicia Whitley, our best defender," Hunter pointed out, directing Bobbi's attention to an older-looking white girl with red hair tied up in a knot on the top of her head. "She's a senior, so we don't know her as well, but she's a damn good player. She's like a ginger ninja."

"Aunt Alva says you're not supposed to swear so much," Fitz piped up from behind them. Hunter stuck out his tongue at him.

"I'll buy you a hot dog if you don't tell," he offered. Fitz considered the offer seriously before responding.

"And some M&Ms," he said finally. He looked deadly serious, but Hunter just laughed.

"Yeah, all right. It's a deal."

They watched in relative quiet for the next few minutes, Bobbi taking in the team as best she could. She spied the girl with the short brown hair named Piper who came to the AV club meetings, and a few other girls she had seen around the halls but didn't know the names of.

"Who's that one?" she asked, gesturing to an older girl with light brown skin and dark hair. She was wearing the number 33 jersey and seemed to be one of the better players warming up. She handled the ball with a quickness and precision that Bobbi didn't often see with high school players, and when she took her practice shots, she demonstrated a killer ability to bend and guide the ball almost to her will.

"Kara Palamas," Mack said. His expression was hard to read, but it struck Bobbi as something less than positive.

"She's a senior, too," Natasha explained. "Clint and I have had a few classes with her over the years. She's… fine. Kind of competitive."

"The girl's intense," Clint cut in. "She likes to be the best at stuff. She likes knowing she's the best, too."

"She's a hard worker," added Mack. He was trying to be charitable, Bobbi could tell. "And it pays off. She's a killer striker. Probably going to be All-Wisconsin this year again, maybe All-American. She's got her pick of scholarships lined up and waiting for her for college next year."

"She's great to watch on the field," Hunter conceded. "It's just that she's a nightmare to speak with or interact with on any human level."

"And yet she's still considered top of the food chain," lamented Clint. "While cool people like us are relegated to AV club and lunch tables next to the garbage bins."

"I'd rather hang out in AV club and eat next to a trash can than spend much time with her and her stuck-up friends," Natasha glowered. Bobbi hadn't seen Natasha look so grim before. "And her boyfriend's a real piece of work, too."

"So, I'm guessing we don't like her?" Bobbi asked. She tried to lighten the mood with the question, but it was only marginally successful.

"Like Hunter said, she's a great player. Fun to watch. She scores most of our goals, and it's nice to win games. I just wouldn't exert too much energy trying to make friends." Natasha shrugged. She seemed like she was trying to force herself to more diplomatic than she had been a moment ago.

"Speaking of her delightful boyfriend," Clint said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "do you all reckon Ward's planning on showing up tonight?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Bobbi noticed Fitz bristle at the sound of Kara's boyfriend's name. She knit her eyebrows together with curiosity, but Fitz didn't seem to catch her look.

"Not sure," Mack said thoughtfully. "Christian doesn't always come, but Mishicot's a big game, so who knows?"

"I know I'd prefer if he didn't," grumbled Hunter. His teeth were gritted and his forehead was creased with a frown. A very unhappy face. Bobbi cut her eyes back to Fitz and saw that he, at least, had relaxed slightly. Apparently, whatever was bothering him had passed for the time being.

"Is there a story there I should know about?" Bobbi asked hesitantly. Nobody responded right away.

"Christian Ward's not our favorite person," Mack finally said. "He's basically a walking stereotype of a grade-A high school jerk."

"He plays on the football team – the American football team," Hunter added, "which isn't an automatic red flag, unless your English, of course, but he's one of those sleezy future-politician type of kids who can charm the pants off of the people he considers valuable and who can smash you under his thumb if you're not worth his time."

"He sounds lovely," Bobbi scoffed. Behind the bravado, however, a shiver ran down her spine. If she was being honest with herself, he sounded kind of like her dad. She began hoping that this Christian Ward wouldn't make an appearance, if only for the fact that she wasn't interested in dealing with someone who might set off her fight-or-flight. She gave the handles of her crutches a nervous squeeze to try and calm her now racing nerves.

"His brother's not very nice, either," Fitz mumbled. They turned to look at him, and Hunter wore a pained expression.

"I know mate," he said sympathetically, clapping Fitz on the shoulder and giving him a quick squeeze. "And one of these days we're going to do something about the both of them."

"I told you, me and Skye and Jemma have a plan. Well, a part of a plan. Trip's calling it a tactical retreat, but we're going to figure it out."

"Which I'm very pleased to hear about," Hunter reassured him. "It's about time you stood up to him. Just know that I'm working on a plan B of my own, if it comes to it."

A few more minutes were passed with causal small talk that didn't seem to center around anyone's mortal enemies, which gave Bobbi a chance to fully settle herself down and get ready for the start of the game. Two quick blasts of the whistle from the referee signaled to the teams to line up, and Bobbi felt the old familiar electric current of adrenaline zip from the top of her head down to her toes. Even if she wasn't playing, the start of a game still had the same effect on her, apparently. It felt like her eyes were brighter and everything around her was sharper in focus. For a brief moment, a powerful urge to leap out of the stands and dash onto the field flooded her senses, and Bobbi had to take a deep breath to remind herself that she was currently encased in a knee brace and not especially capable of leaping or dashing.

A crackling sound came over the stadium loudspeaker, and a voice that sounded like it belonged to one of the Muppets welcomed them all to Outlaw Stadium. A tinny, out-of-tune recording of a marching band filled the air, spilling the sounds of the national anthem over the bleachers and the field. Once the song was finished, the recording continued to play – this time a song Bobbi didn't recognize. Everyone else seemed to though, because they all began to sing (or bellow, in Clint and Hunter's case) along with the song.

"Standing here, with cheer, chant, and cry, it's the pride of Manitowoc. We'll never stand down from a challenge, or give up when we hit a block. We're loyal, brave, and true, we're fearless and sturdy and strong. So let's hear it for the Outlaws, our victory shout: FIGHT ON!"

Everyone around her was singing practically at the top of their lungs, and when they all reached the last two words, they shouted them as loud as they possibly could, pumping their fists in the air in time with the final two beats. Apparently, the people of Manitowoc High took their fight song very seriously, and Bobbi found herself more than a little incredulous at the sight. She didn't think a single soul knew the words to the fight song at her old school, herself included. They all knew the tune, of course, but there was never any singing to accompany it. She supposed that a school where kids actually wore their lettermen jackets was more than likely to also be a school where people sang the fight song, so she opted to let the spectacle slide. Plus, everyone seemed like they were having an uproariously good time singing as loudly and ferociously as they good, and Bobbi wasn't one to try and spoil the fun.

"Do they play that before every game?" she asked, smirking a little.

"Oh yeah," Hunter panted. He had practically winded himself with the raucous effort of outshouting everyone in the stadium. "It's the best way to get pumped up. Nothing like an Outlaw 'Fight On,' Bob."

"Hunter and I will teach it to you before the next game," Mack promised. "It's actually pretty fun to just let loose and yell it as loud as you can."

"I'll take your word for it," said Bobbi. She shook her head at their antics, but discovered a feeling of eagerness tapdancing around in her chest at the prospect of joining in the fun next time.

"Where're are Jemma and Skye?" Fitz asked, tugging on her shirt sleeve again. "The game's about to start."

"I'm sure they'll be here soon," Bobbi said. She didn't want to tell Fitz, but she was starting to get a little antsy herself. Phil wasn't usually late, even though he almost always seemed to be in a rush. She knew they were all probably just running a little bit behind, especially considered the state of things when she had left with Hunter and Mack, but that didn't stop her from beginning to imagine a plethora of horrible reasons for their tardiness.

The referee blew out another signal on her whistle, and the captains of both teams met in the middle of the field to shake hands. Kara Palamas was the one who jogged out for Manitowoc, while the girl who Fitz had identified as the star striker represented Mishicot. Bobbi couldn't be sure, but it looked to her like both girls were trying to crush the other's hand when they shook, and the whole thing didn't last more than a few seconds. Clearly there was some bad blood between the two teams, and Bobbi could tell they were in for a fierce and merciless match.

The game began with a lightning-quick pace, as the Mishicot girl handling the kickoff immediately began feeding the ball up the field. Their front line pushed hard and attacked without hesitation, and Bobbi watched as they began to set up for a long cross. Luckily, the defender, Alicia, noticed, too, and she cut off the play before it had time to take shape. She cleared the ball well, and Elena was the one who scooped it up. She flashed up the field, weaving in and out of defenders. If Mishicot had begun the game with an aggressive tempo, the one that Manitowoc was responding with was verging on frantic.

Kara Palamas called for the ball, and Elena fed it up to her smoothly. Bobbi was impressed by the younger girl's poise and precision on the field, even in the midst of the careening speed of the game. To her credit, Kara Palamas wasted no time in demonstrating why she was the best one on the team. She flew up the field and past more Mishicot players than Bobbi could count, never once losing control of the ball.

As she neared the Mishicot goal, two defenders appeared in front of Kara, ready to block her.

"She needs to pass," Bobbi called over the rising roar of the home fans as Kara drew closer and closer to the goal.

"Not likely," Hunter said back. He pointed towards the field. "Just watch."

As he spoke, Kara faked to the right, then moved to the left, poking the ball forward in between one of the defender's legs. She ducked around the other girl, collected the ball on the other side, and had a clear path to the goal. Her shot was powerful and on target, but the Mishicot goalie had had enough time to get in position and read Kara's feet, and she blocked the shot without much difficulty. The excited swell of the crowd was exhaled in an almost collective "aww."

"That was a nice fake," Bobbi conceded. "But Elena was open on the other side of the box. The goalie was totally focused on Kara. She could have passed it and given Elena an open shot."

"Good luck telling her that," chuckled Mack. "You don't become the top goal-scorer in school history by passing all your shots away."

"Bobbi's right, though," Hunter pointed out. "We might have had a point on the board if she hadn't tried to take that one alone."

"There's still plenty of game left," Clint reminded them. "No point in focusing on what's already gone by." They fell silent and turned their attention back to the field.

As the game continued, the pace slowed slightly, but not by much. Both teams were pushing as hard as they could and taking frequent shots. Some shots were more reckless than others, but it was clear to Bobbi that neither team was as concerned about missing shots as they were about simply taking them. It was a more aggressive style of play than she was used to, but she could understand how neither team would want to be the one to take their foot off of the gas in order to set up a more slow-burning play.

"Do they always play this hot?" she asked, leaning back towards Fitz so that she wouldn't bother the others.

"No," he shook his head. "It's just the Mishicot game. It's always a bit of a tangle. Usually they're much more methodical."

They were about halfway through the first half when Bobbi heard Fitz suck in an excited breath behind her.

"They're here!" he exclaimed. He pointed towards the entrance to the stadium, where Phil, May, Skye, and Jemma were indeed walking in. Bobbi watched as May looked around the stadium briefly, then spotted her and nudged Phil to let him know that she was here. Not surprisingly, Phil smiled when he saw her and waved cheerily, and Bobbi waved back automatically. There was something so assuring about knowing there was a person who would always smile just at the mere sight of her. Granted, Phil probably smiled at the sight of every person he knew, but something still felt comforting about it. Even if he smiled at all of the other 7 billion people in the world, she couldn't shake the feeling that he would still have a special smile just for her. He was just good that way.

"Can I go?" Fitz wheedled, prodding Hunter in the back.

"Yeah, just stay with your friends and Mr. Coulson," Hunter told him. "Don't go wandering off, all right? And meet us here at halftime so I can get you your hot dog."

"And my M&Ms," said Fitz pointedly. "Don't forget them, either."

"I won't," Hunter laughed. "Go see your friends, mate."

Fitz scampered off, and Bobbi kept her eye trained on the boy as he darted over to where her foster family was standing. She had to smile when he started waving furiously well before he was in range of them, and she felt her heart leap upwards in her chest at the sight of Skye and Jemma lighting up when they saw him. Bobbi watched as the three children bobbed around each other, exchanging greetings and already talking a mile a minute. Skye looked up at May and Phil and asked something, and they both nodded. A moment later, she, Jemma, and Fitz took off for an empty section of bleachers, all still chatting and gesticulating wildly, leaving Phil and May behind to chuckle at their antics. As the scene unfolded in front of her, Bobbi felt like she was watching a movie about a picturesque American family – one with loving parents and happy children, all excited to take in an evening of high school sports. It was a charming scene, but Bobbi couldn't help but wonder where she fit into it.