Stocking Up on Essentials

Skye walked slowly around the grocery store, examining displays closely even though she wasn't the least bit interested in the products being advertised. As she'd told Bobbi a few days ago, it was indeed her turn for a supply run and she was trying to make it last as long as possible. But as distractions go, this one was a bit of a dud. There weren't a lot of people around – certainly no one interesting – and wearing a mask was a drag. It wasn't that she minded doing her part to take care of others; it was that the mask made it more difficult to breathe and felt confining. Skye was itching to feel free again.

She wandered into the baking aisle, hoping against hope that they'd have flour and yeast available. The Playground had an adequate stock of flour going into the lockdown but having to feed so many people for such a long period of time made a serious dent in it. Skye was craving fresh bread, so she was determined to search until she found some. Score! There were several bags of flour on the shelf! We are so having fresh bread for dinner tonight!

As she hurried in that direction, she idly noticed a tall, well-built man in a black t-shirt and jeans grabbing one of the flour bags but, other than briefly admiring the nice chest and biceps emphasized by his t-shirt, she ignored him. Masks really cut into her ability to ogle men, yet another drawback of the pandemic.

Skye put the flour in her cart with a rewarding thump, then remembered she'd also need yeast. She turned back to the shelves, her eyes scouring them for the precious bottle she wanted so much to find. Nothing. Not a single speck of yeast. She sighed heavily, only then noticing the man in black standing a good 6 feet away, holding out a small container of yeast.

"Is this what you're looking for?" he asked in a teasing tone. "Such a shame that this is the last one."

Skye was about to say something snarky when the words got caught in her throat. Whiskey colored eyes twinkled at her. When she'd known him, his hair had been shipshape, kept severely in line just like his personality. But now, his black hair was styled in the just-got-out-of-bed look, more evidence (if she needed any) that he was different. The black mask obscured what was surely a smirk and a 5 o'clock shadow. She tried to take a deep breath, to force air into her lungs, but oxygen eluded her. "Grant," she whispered.

He bowed slightly, never taking his eyes off of her, and made a tip of the hat gesture. "At your service."

"I…what…you…" There was so much that she wanted to say but she had no idea where to start.

Grant laughed slightly, his eyes twinkling again, something she'd only rarely had the opportunity to observe when they were teammates. "I never thought that you'd be at a loss for words."

She chuckled feebly and looked down, trying to prevent him from seeing the tears in her eyes. When she looked back up, he cocked his head slightly, his brow furrowed. Too late. "Yeah. Imagine that," she managed to get out. Her breathing still wasn't regular, another detail he plainly noticed.

"Hey," he said gently, "I was just kidding about the yeast. We have more than enough, so you're welcome to have this one." He gestured at her cart. "If you want, I can put it in there for you."

Skye nodded, looking down again, willing her body to be normal. Something he said registered and she jerked her head back up. "We?"

He ignored her outburst, leaning forward slightly to carefully place the tiny container of yeast in her cart, then immediately backed away. Grant still had yet to take his eyes off of her. Her tear-filled eyes met his and held for what seemed like forever. A tear escaped, sliding silently down her face.

Grant's brow furrowed again. "Good seeing you, Skye," he murmured. "Enjoy your bread!" He turned and left the aisle.

Skye remained frozen in place, her mind still processing what just happened. An older woman passed, giving her as wide a berth as possible in the small aisle. "Whew, honey!" she said to Skye as she pantomimed fanning herself. "I'm not sure I'd let that one go!"

Skye didn't answer, remaining frozen in place until her body caught up with her brain. "Grant! Wait" she shouted, running to follow him. But he was nowhere to be seen.

She glumly finished her shopping, kicking herself for being so weird around him. The fact that he'd shocked her by his presence and his teasing demeanor didn't help. When did he get to be so playful? Standing in the checkout line, unloading her items, felt like torture. She almost cried when the yeast made its' appearance, riding away from her down the belt toward the checker. We? Who is we? The emptiness she'd been feeling for weeks, months really, hit Skye like a sledge hammer when the checker put the yeast into her bag and it was, once again, out of her reach.

Paying for the groceries and putting them into the back of her non-descript SUV felt like an out of body experience. Skye was there, accomplishing the tasks, but her body was on auto pilot. Once she reached her vehicle, she robotically wiped down the items with a Chlorox sheet as she transferred the food into the bags she'd brought with her. Produce that couldn't be wiped went in one bag (to be washed later) while cold items went into insulated bags and the wiped items in another. While her body worked, her mind focused on the interaction with Grant. Her one chance to see him again, ask questions, figure out a path forward and she'd blown it. He thought she was weird or, worse, still believed she hated him. She got in the car, put the keys in the ignition but just sat there, her forehead resting on the wheel.

You're a SHIELD agent, Skye! Get it together! In an effort to push through her lethargy, she drove to a restaurant and ordered take-out. This had been on her to-do list during her time away from the base but the plan called for her to stow the food away (in another insulated bag) for later, not eat any of it now. But Skye couldn't wait. She dutifully put the hot items in her bag then took her cherry pie to a newly installed picnic bench, strategically placed to encourage customers to buy take-out during the pandemic. However, at 3:00 on a Thursday, Skye was the only one there. Her first bite was heaven, filled with cherries, sugar and firm crust. She was about to moan with pleasure when the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

Skye glanced up, her eyes scouring the parking lot. There, leaning against her vehicle in the sexy way only he could pull off, was Grant Ward.