A/N: Thanks for being patient. Here's the new update, featuring Thanksgiving! And snowball fights! And a lot of coffee drinking for some reason! And a guest appearance by someone!
I'm off to work for the night and I hope to write some more, possibly on this and possibly on one of the two new stories I'm working on.
Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows! You're awesome. Enjoy!
Jemma woke to find Little Bear snuggled up between her warm body and Skye's warm body. The dog was smiling even in his sleep.
Jemma sat up, leaned in, gave Skye a kiss on the forehead, and then slipped out of the blanket nest, tucking the covers back up around the sleeping girl and the sleeping dog.
Summer, Mr. Coulson, and Natasha were in the kitchen, leaning against the counters and drinking mugs of coffee. There was a delicious smell in the air – something fruity and spicy. Jemma liked it immediately.
"Good morning," Summer said. "Did you sleep all right?"
"Like the dead," Jemma replied. "It was very cozy."
"Good. I'm glad. Do you drink coffee?"
"Tea, if you've got any," Jemma said.
"Coming right up," Summer said.
"Is everyone else still asleep?" Jemma asked Mr. Coulson.
"Maria and Melinda went out for a run," he answered. "Bobbi went with them."
"There's several inches of snow outside – was that wise?"
"Maria's like a tank," Natasha said. "She'll just blow through any obstacle in their path. Iceberg, terrible snowman, kid on a sled…"
"Dear God," Summer said. She handed Jemma a mug. "I've got a few different types of tea, and hot water comes out of the side port of the coffee machine."
Jemma moved over to the cupboard Summer had indicated and chose a tea bag, then filled her mug with hot water, cream, and sugar.
"And Melinda's basically an elf from one of those Tolkien books," Natasha went on. "She could just glide along atop the snow. Probably doesn't even leave footprints."
Mr. Coulson snorted into his coffee mug.
"Bobbi's like an elf… and a tank," Jemma said, stirring her tea. "She and Trip take Zumba."
"The twins are up too," Summer said. "They're watching TV in the living room."
"How is Wanda?" Jemma asked.
"She's… they've been up since around five," Summer answered. "Wanda said she'd been having bad dreams and Pietro refuses to leave her side."
"Nick is on his way to speak with John Garrett," Mr. Coulson said. "I don't know if he'll have that much of an impact. It might be time for the real professionals to step in."
Jemma sighed, remembering the campus police officers who had offered Skye a restraining order that did less than nothing.
"Have we figured out his endgame?" Natasha asked.
The others in the kitchen turned to look at her.
"Okay, so, I know I haven't been in on this for very long," the redhead said, "but you'd have to be made of stone to not want to kick this Ward guy in the balls."
The oven timer went off and Summer moved to open it, slipping a pair of oven mitts over her hands.
"We have some thoughts," Mr. Coulson said, setting his coffee mug on the counter. "Mr. Ward has displayed a fixation on the date of December first."
"What happens on December first?" Natasha asked.
"We don't know," Mr. Coulson said.
Summer took a coffee cake out of the oven, and the kitchen swelled with the bright smells of cinnamon and fruit.
"That smells heavenly," Jemma said.
"Thank you," Summer said. "It's hard to keep the masses from eating it all at once, so I figured I'd make it while everyone was still sleeping."
She set the cake on top of the stove and closed the oven. For a few minutes everyone in the kitchen breathed in the amazing scent.
"So, obviously there's coffee cake," Jemma said once the silence had gotten too big. "And I heard something about a parade, and I know we have at least five pies. What else happens on Thanksgiving?"
"There will be football on TV," Mr. Coulson said. "American football, of course. Mostly the menfolk are expected to sit around and watch it and cheer loudly, and then after dinner we'll all get rowdy and go out and throw a football around, despite none of us having any athletic prowess. No one understands it, but it's tradition."
Natasha laughed.
"With all the snow Skye will probably demand to go sledding," Summer said. "Usually we just make food, then watch football while the food cooks, and then eat the food. After that we might play cards or a board game. One year we did crafts."
"Crafts?"
"Yeah, we made these little turkey place markers out of little terracotta pots and felt," Summer said. "It was Wanda's idea. They turned out adorable. We'll probably use them on the table today."
"That sounds incredibly low-key," Jemma said.
"Is that bad?" Summer asked.
"No." Jemma laughed. "All of the holidays I attend with my parents usually involve fancy dress, too many forks, and dull conversation."
"Well, we barely have enough forks for everyone to get one," Summer said, "and I don't care if you come to dinner in your pajamas as long as you're happy. And the conversation is up to everyone else, but since we'll be translating back and forth from speech to sign, there's a good chance it won't be dull."
Pietro came into the kitchen. "Good morning," he said to Jemma.
She smiled at him. "Good morning."
"Mamochka, mladshaya sestra is sleeping," Pietro reported. "I will go to our house for things we need, and also to clean up the shop."
"Okay," Summer said. "I know you still don't want to call the police, but can you do one thing for me?"
Pietro studied Summer. He nodded.
"Don't touch anything. First take pictures of where everything is, and then stand at the door and take a video. Narrate about the way things look, the things that were ruined. If we do end up getting help from law enforcement, this will help us. At the very least, we can turn it in to the insurance company. That will help to get money back for the damage caused."
"Okay," Pietro said.
"I'll go with you," Natasha offered. "I'm pretty strong, and I can follow directions."
Mr. Coulson snorted into his coffee.
"Thank you," Pietro said. "Will help to have the extra eyes."
They left, the cold morning air swirling into the kitchen to mingle with the coffee cake scent. Jemma smiled. She'd only been with Summer and Skye for a day, but their snug little house felt more like home than any other place she'd been.
"I'll go sit with Wanda," Jemma said. "You know, just in case she wakes up."
Summer smiled.
"Unless you've something else you need me to do," Jemma offered. "Sounds like there's a lot to do."
"There always is," Summer said, "but in this case, we're going to take today nice and slow. When Skye gets up I'll put you two on bread-making duty."
"All right," Jemma said.
She refilled her tea and stirred in more cream before moving out into the living room.
Wanda was curled up on the loveseat in front of the TV. The screen was showing a squat male reporter in a khaki overcoat and a hat with earflaps, boldly attempting to yell something over the marching band behind him.
The reporter turned into full shots of the marching band, which stayed true to its name and marched along through the camera's view, followed by floats and balloons and more bands and celebrities and floats and balloons. Jemma was entranced.
The world fell away and her tea went cold in her hands, two facts she didn't notice until two cold hands slipped over her eyes.
She shrieked and jumped up. Tea sloshed over her front and she tumbled from the couch.
Skye sat down in her place, laughing.
"That is not funny!" Jemma protested. "Never sneak up on me when I'm…"
She realized Skye was laughing too hard to read her lips, and she had no idea what the sign was for "parade." Clearly revenge was the best answer.
Jemma set the now-empty mug on the coffee table, stood up, and with strength she didn't know she had, yanked Skye off the couch.
Wait! Wait! Skye's frantic hands began to sign as she realized where Jemma was taking her.
Jemma didn't let her get a sign in edgewise; she scooped Skye up and carried her the five feet to the door, opened the door, and dumped Skye into the snow.
Or she would have, had Melinda and Maria not been standing just outside the door holding large mugs of coffee. As it was Skye just flopped to the porch, where, stunned by the cold, she tumbled to the edge, let out a squawk, and disappeared.
"What the hell was that?" Maria demanded.
Melinda handed Maria her coffee mug, went to the edge of the porch, and hauled Skye back upright by the back of the girl's shirt. You okay?
Skye was still grinning her dopey grin, though her teeth were chattering and her hands were shaking. It took her several tries, but eventually she signed Yes. Fine. Cold but fine.
"Serves her right," Jemma muttered.
Skye beamed and threw her arms around Jemma. It was already cold out, and the snow under Jemma's sock feet was crisp and cold, and while Skye was hugging her Jemma realized she was even colder –
… thanks to the handful of snow Skye had poured down her back.
It took nearly an hour, but eventually both girls were showered, changed, and warm again. Skye looked up at Jemma as her girlfriend appeared from the bathroom, finger-combing her hair.
Jemma raised her eyebrows and looked at the cozy triad of Bobbi, Skye, and Little Bear. If I sit down, are you going to spray me with ice water or something?
I'm not, Skye replied, grinning. Can't speak for Bobbi.
Jemma sat down and Little Bear trotted over to her.
"Wittle bear, don't talk to muh-muh Jemma," Skye informed the dog. "She is mean."
Jemma sighed and let the dog lick her face. I'm not mean.
"Mean," Skye trilled happily.
There was a stomp on the floor and Skye turned to look at Summer.
If you're done being a child, I want you and Jemma to make the rolls for today.
Why don't you just handcuff us together and make us decorate cupcakes, like in that one reality show? Skye asked, a sarcastic glint in her eyes.
There's time, Summer answered. She started to go back to the kitchen, then turned back to Skye. That was a joke, right? Not some sort of relationship… thing?
Skye burst out laughing.
I don't know what you kids do these days! Summer protested. I haven't dated since Billy Monroe in eighth grade.
Seeing that Skye was only going to keep laughing at her, Summer groaned and stomped into the kitchen.
Come on, Skye signed to Jemma. We've got work to do.
If that's some kind of code for 'I'm going to throw you in the snow,' you're going to be one very lonely girl this Thanksgiving.
You talk a big game, Skye answered, and she flung her arms around Jemma's neck and kissed her on the cheek.
Late that night, when knots of people were still at the table playing cards, Skye surveyed the scene with satisfaction. There was a fire going in the fireplace and the TV was still playing football, though no one had been keeping track of the game for quite some time. Wanda and Pietro were sitting together on the loveseat, though they were no longer touching. Wanda was sitting on her own, her sketchpad propped against her knees, as she drew schematics for equipment that would replace what Ward had broken. Pietro's attention was on the television, but Skye was pretty sure that was his excuse to sit next to Wanda.
Mr. Coulson, Maria, Melinda, and Summer were on one side of the table, across from Bobbi, Hunter, Trip, and Natasha. Jemma was at one end, and they were all playing a very loud and rowdy game of… of something. They had been playing euchre, but Skye had turned her head to watch Wanda draw, and then they'd started on something else.
It didn't matter; Skye was just happy they were all together, under one roof, and that nothing had gone wrong throughout the day.
She and Jemma had made the rolls and then Summer had put them to work making a fruit plate and setting out snacks. In between jobs they'd snuck hunks of coffee cake and played with Little Bear. Skye found it was hard to be unhappy when she could have her arms around either her dog or her Jemma.
At one point Trip had shepherded them all outside, where the traditional tossing of the football was replaced by a more appropriate snowball fight. Skye smiled as she remembered Mr. Coulson scooping Maria up and using her as a shield against Melinda and Natasha's barrage of icy missiles.
Dinner was served in a rather laidback fashion, with everything being set out on the dining room table buffet-style. Everyone was free to sit wherever they wanted, and Skye had to admit that she liked that setup the best. It wasn't formal and it wasn't fussy – it was like a big group hug.
What are you smiling about, girl? Trip asked as he approached the couch.
How much I love all of you, Skye answered, and she hurriedly reached up to brush tears away.
Easy there, Trip said. Save the waterworks for Christmas.
To show he was kidding, he sat down next to her. For what it's worth, this is the best Thanksgiving I can remember.
Skye grinned. Same.
Thank you for bringing us all together.
Skye looked sideways at him. What are you talking about?
Trip indicated the room, filled with Skye's siblings and her girlfriend, her professor and her girlfriend, her interpreter, a think-tank escapee, Bobbi and her boyfriend, and circled back to himself and the dog. Why do you think we're all here?
Well, Jemma's here because she's British and they don't do Thanksgiving. Wanda and Pietro are here because they're family, and Summer's here because she owns the house…
Trip waved his hands through Skye's signs. We're here because of you.
Skye blushed. I don't like that.
Why not?
Too much responsibility.
Come on, girl, Trip signed. Count yourself lucky. Most people spend their lives looking for a circle of people they can truly be themselves around. You found yours and we're all here to support you.
Skye thought about that, and then she signed, Thank you.
"Mm-hmm," Trip responded. Any time.
The doorbell rang and the lights flashed. Little Bear jumped up and bolted for the door. Skye gave Trip a smile and got up, heading for the door behind the dog.
She scooped Little Bear up and was holding him when she opened the door.
A man in a bright purple parka was standing on the porch, holding a fruit basket.
"Uhhh," Skye said. Little Bear licked her face.
The man in the parka shifted the fruit basket and brought one hand up. A little sloppily, hindered mostly by the basket, he signed, Hi. I'm Clint. I'm Natasha's friend.
"Oh," Skye said faintly, and she let him through the door.
"Clint!" Natasha squealed, and jumped up from the table. She ran over and hugged the man, completely engulfing the fruit basket in her excitement.
Clint laughed and put the fruit basket on the floor to return the hug.
Is he supposed to be here? Mr. Coulson signed to Skye.
Skye shrugged.
Bobbi came out of the kitchen with a plate of cookies. She looked over at Natasha and the parka-clad visitor, and then she nearly dumped the cookies on top of the cards. "Clint?"
Natasha pulled back. "You know him?"
"You know him?"
"Yeah, he works with me at the think tank."
"And we went on a couple of dates," Clint added, using speech and sign.
"How do you know him?" Natasha asked.
"Uh, well… we were engaged."
Mr. Coulson had been signing the exchange for Skye, and at the last part his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.
"Wittle bear, there is so much dwama," Skye mumbled to the dog, and laughed into his furry neck.