for peculiarmaleficent, who is wonderful and who wanted more about Melinda and Maria's S.O.-Rookie relationship from "safety in the aftermath"
references a quote from Nikita
Maria Hill walked into her apartment for the first time in three days hoping to drink a lot of wine before sleeping for a long time ... or at least until her phone rang signaling another S.H.I.E.L.D. related crisis for her to diffuse in front of the media or Congress.
She was balling her coat up to throw onto the couch when a shadow spoke.
"I thought I taught you to clear a room before turning your back to it."
"May."
The woman emerged from the shadows of the living room in a black leather jacket and exhaustion written all over her features.
"You should be watching your back."
The 'especially now' spoke for itself in her silence.
"Shouldn't you be interrogating me, asking me if I'm HYDRA?" Maria snarked. Her tone was bitter as she threw her heels in a pile near the door. It was the first time in seventy-two hours that the soles of her feet had touched the blessedly cool ground.
Melinda gave her the look she had every time in the past ten years that Maria had done or said something less than impressive.
Please.
Maria grinned and moved around her kitchen.
"What are you doing stalking me in my apartment? How did you even know I'd be here? I didn't know I'd be here."
Her hand grabbed two glasses from the upper shelf and reached up again for the bottles of bourbon and vodka. May and Natasha liked the hard stuff.
"I tracked your phone."
Maria raised an eyebrow in admiration. The burner was still in her pocket had been from Stark and his staff had assured him it was impenetrable.
"I might have borrowed the tech from FitzSimmons."
"Ah."
Borrow was Melinda's catch phrase for stolen without anyone being the wiser. She had grown accustomed to her mentor's kleptomaniac tendencies early on, watching her steal Clint's and Phil's and later Andrew's, sometimes even Fury's, clothes out of their bags.
(It always hung off her tiny frame like a dress and she suspected that was the part May liked most about their clothing.)
However, it came in handy on missions: May had a knack for knowing when something was expensive or full of classified information.
(If I need a gun, I'll take one.)
She handed May a glass of vodka before pouring herself a large portion of scotch. Maria frowned as she took in her mentor's posture. The way her arm stretched to take the glass stiffly instead of her normal fluid self, how the other arm reinforced her ribs to keep from toppling over.
"You're injured."
May looked faintly annoyed before taking a sip of vodka.
"That would be because Coulson shot me, and then Tory shot me, and then so did Garrett."
Maria's hands curled into a fist inside her pockets and around her glass as she fought the urge to touch her S.O.
"May, you're back!"
Maria had turned down the hall towards a cluster of offices to get an after-action report from Barton when she caught sight of her mentor. As she drew closer, there was evident that something was off about the way she and Coulson were interacting.
"Not now, Hill."
She frowned at Coulson's less than friendly. They had all been a flawless team when she had been in the field. It had only been eighteen months since her appointment to Deputy Director. Her friendship to Delta Strike had stayed intact...or so she had thought.
"I didn't think you'd be back for a few more weeks. How's your leg?"
"I'm not back."
Her tone was odd; forced and quiet, like she was hold back part of her words.
Maria's hand shot out to brush her elbow, it was one of the only comfort gesture the older woman allowed near the office. She was stopped short as her hand made contact lightly with May's skin.
Melinda's body jerked back, suddenly and violently.
Maria immediately dropped her hands, keeping them in the view of Melinda eye line. She had seen her mentor reacting to threats before; the way she'd catch an aura of something before a fire fight and react with frightening speed and accuracy. (Barton called it her "spidey sense" but in this moment it wasn't cool anymore.)
It was odd just how close Coulson was standing to May. Normally May adopted a more than healthy level of personal space. It was her confidence and the knowledge of her skills that afforded her her preference level of personal space.
He was blocking her frame from the flow of traffic visible through the windows, Maria realized later. Making sure his partner wasn't seen and harassed by the teeming hordes of agents looking for the woman now known as "the Calvary".
Rumors surrounding just what had been down in Bahrain began circling before the team had even landed back at HQ. They were out of control. May had had quite the reputation before leaving for the desert, but by the time she and Coulson returned, everything about her story had been blown disgustingly out of proportion.
And Maria wasn't the only one trying to shut it down. Natasha had verbally demolished a cadet in the middle of the cafeteria two days previously who had used the title, stirring up a big public spectacle featuring a crying boy. Clint had gotten in a fist fight with the last upper level office he had heard chatting about it in the men's room. She didn't even have the heart to reprimand him for it.
May hated the limelight. She hated the staring and the way people exaggerated the heroics of being a specialist, the ignorance for the blood in the field.
Maria was pretty sure she didn't even appreciate the sarcasm when Fury occasionally referred to her as "her majesty" (though she suspected there was a touch of affection behind it).
She stared at her mentor, the woman who gave her everything and a little she didn't know she needed, and tried to find the cracks on her surface. Just where the bruises and the damage was and if they could repair it before it splintered anymore. (May was infinitely precious, not just to her and Coulson, and to Andrew, but to S.H.I.E.L.D.).
But May noticed her gaze and drew back away from her, and away from Coulson.
"I'm fine."
But she wasn't ever fine again.
She forced herself to swallow a large sip of bourbon before speaking.
"Why?"
"Nothing says I love you like bullets to a non-vital area."
Maria raised a glass to the glass and drained the rest of the amber liquid in it. The shock of betrayal around her was still sharp in her gut. And by the level of bitterness in Melinda's tone, so was she.
"What do you know?"
May's eyes revealed nothing in the darkness and she was quiet for a moment. It seems like forever before she spoke and Maria clung to every word.
"Pierce, Sitwell, Rumlow, Garrett, Ward, two of the level eights. Dozens of the lower levels." She sighed and sat down on the couch, neatly folding her legs underneath her in a lazy Melinda May display of flexibility that Maria only wished she could so easily accomplish.
It's the closest they'd been to touching since Bahrain.
"Clint found Rogers and Nat. They're safe for now. Tasha and I spoke, they're gonna stay underground until this partly blows over. Tory's still in surgery. I vetted Iz over the phone—she was still undercover when things went down. I set them up to move as soon as she wakes up. I don't know if Ward would go back for her, but we're making sure she gets out …"
"Coulson?"
Melinda's posture changed slightly. Maria watched as her breathing shallowed for a moment before she forcibly corrected it and her spine straightened automatically.
"Coulson and I have parted ways."
An ugly feeling rose to the back of her mouth and her stomach tightened. We did this, her mind reminded her, you and Fury did this to her.
"TAHITI."
Melinda's fingers played along the rim of the cup, clueing Maria into just how uncomfortable she was with the turn in conversation. "Apparently, protecting him makes me the enemy more than HYDRA."
"What are we doing?" Victoria Hand had the gift of hating small talk.
"Teaching Hill how to pick up guys."(So did Melinda May.)
Maria's cheeks burned red as she forced any eye contact she had maintained earlier to the ground.
"Yeah, I can't help you," Hand's voice was amused but cool. (She never understood how to maintain that level of aloofness in her voice. Someday Hand or May would have to teach her. She'd have to learn if she ever wanted to move up the ranks.)
Melinda waved her hand in the air, her eyes not moving from the masses of people walking through the office; men and women in suits, combat uniforms, an assortment of covers.
"It's the same principle."
God, why did she have to say anything at all. It had just been a side comment to her S.O. about her sex life—it was supposed to have been a joke.
"She's quite good at it; May can pick up anything with a pulse."
"Tory!"
"What—it's true. Iz and I've have gone clubbing with you."
May rolled her eyes.
"Think of it like an op," Victoria advised, leaning forward.
Maria groaned and fought the urge to cover her face.
"I hate all of you."
"Shut up and pay attention," Melinda was as brusque as the day they met. Maria forced herself to not fidget (May hated that) as they gazed through the doors at the large hallway of the Triskelion.
A group of men were speaking just in front of them, a handful of level sixes, Coulson included. Mostly specialists, around Melinda's age or a little older, in suits and tac uniforms, with a handful of consultants thrown in for good measure.
May nodded towards the group. "Once you find your mark, all you need to do is make eye contact."
The man May had picked out from the group was attractive, Maria could admit that. Tall and muscled in a navy suit with dark skin and intelligent dark eyes. He reminded her of a Calvin Klein model.
He was still talking when he caught her eye and paused a moment in his speech before trying to distractedly keep up while not breaking his glance with May.
"Then drop it."
May broke the eye contact sharply and the man turned back for a second towards the other men. Someone else was talking now and as Mr. Klein glanced back over to them, so did Phil. He looked less than impressed to see them standing there, and a little too familiar with just what May was trying to do.
"And you reel them in."
"All without saying a word?" Maria's voice sounded unimpressed.
May raised an eyebrow and pushed herself off the table. She was out the door, walking towards the man before Maria could protest.
She was pretty sure this was going to amount in an embarrassing harassment suit; May was the queen of getting out of awkward pranking situation and otherwise, but trying to hook up with a stranger in the middle of the hallway wasn't going to look good no matter how she spun it.
May didn't speak as she crossed the hallway. She reached him in those floating footsteps that made her look slightly inhuman.
When she made it to him, she pushed onto the balls of her feet and pressed her lips to his.
The chemistry between the two was undeniable. Those that noticed it around them—and the people around them definitely noticed—didn't remark on it. Maybe because it was May and the respect for her and her work granted her the ability to have eye sex and make out in the hallway or perhaps they were just silently jealous. (Maria wouldn't admit to the latter.)
Melinda broke the kiss first, whispered something short in his ear, and gracefully walked away. The man blinked for a moment, paused for a second to gather himself, and followed her.
The only time May glanced back was to meet Maria's eyes before she disappeared into the crowd. She raised an eyebrow in salute.
Maria swore. Twice. Before turning back towards Hand who had an amused look on her face, watching Hill unfold without a word.
"Seriously? I hate her. I hate her. You have to kind of hate her."
Victoria chuckled and grabbed the stack of files behind her, tapping her lightly on the shoulder as she made her way to the doors.
"You should be careful, Hill, appearances can be deceiving."
Well, thanks very much for that cryptic bullshit. Hand was one of those agents who never said exactly what she meant. Maria never understood how she and May got along so well.
Ten weeks later, she found Melinda and the Calvin Klein model talking outside a briefing on gifteds for the Index. She got close enough to hear snippets of their conversation and see the ring on his finger, and suddenly understood just what Hand had meant.
She kept May's secret, but wondered just how much Coulson knew about her secret marriage.
There was no food in Maria's apartment save a stray box of mac and cheese (Star Wars shaped) and lots of alcohol, so she put a decent amount of bourbon and pasta in a pot on the stove for dinner. Specialists weren't picky eaters and between half bites of food and Congressional hearings, the cheese looked like the most wonderful things since her afternoon coffee.
May lingered on the edges of the counter, watching her cook.
After the incident revolving one still frozen chicken at a dinner party and some shrimp gone wrong, the entire team had banished her from the kitchen. She eventually barter to go back to chopping up vegatbles and helping set plates.
Maria was stirring, and May up on the counter, when she saw what kept capture the older woman's attention. Her phone sat on the counter.
The screen alight, buzzing.
Andrew's photo was bright and persist ant.
Maria wiped her hands down on a rag and decided to speak.
"He's probably worried. We're all over the news."
Melinda's hand made no move to go towards the phone.
(Maria remembered the times when she had seen the older woman sit in the same spot motionless, for hours, like she had vacated her body. And the reminder of Phil's funeral made her voice a little stronger.)
"Mel, you should talk to him."
"Yes."
Melinda's hand still made no move to go towards the phone.
So, instead Maria's hand shot out to grab it. Melinda's eyes widen exponentially and before she could object, she hit the answer button.
"Hello?"
"Maria? Is—did—wha—is Melinda all right?" Andrew Garner's voice was grainy and worried over the line.
"Melinda is fine." There was no reason to worry him any longer than necessary. "I saw her yesterday. She was fine, as fine as any non-HYDRA S.H.I.E.L.D. agent currently is."
Maria could physically hear an ease of breathing as her words hit the psychologist.
"Why do you have her phone? Is she with you?"
"She left it with me when she went dark." The lie wasn't too far off. The phone was currently in her kitchen. "We're working on trying to bring back some of the burnt assets."
"She's back in the field?"
Maria bit her lip.
'She's been in the field for months.'
"She's okay, Andrew. She's good."
And the familiar words seemed to soothe him. His voice was softer then, as they hung up and she sat May's phone back down on the counter.
Melinda's eyes were dark on hers.
"I think he believes me." She shrugged and went back to her sauce. She knew better than to make a big scene. Between Mel, Nat, and Clint, she had learned the best strategies to try and help strong, broken people.
And Andrew was one of biggest broken bones in Melinda's arsenal of cuts and bruises. The one that never healed right, the one that hurt when the rain came and the sun was too bright. The one that wouldn't settle and be forgotten.
May's hand brushed her arm as she grabbed plates out of the cupboards. She still hadn't spoken a word. But that was how she said "thank you" best.
Besides, she owed Melinda more than twice over. (They all did.)
She was in the presence of royalty. A rockstar. The rest of her classmates were going to be so jealous when they learned that she a Level Two communication graduate Agent Maria Hill was standing in an office with the Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and The Agent Melinda May.
"No."
She was very articulate.
But Maria already knew that.
Maria knew all about the woman standing in front of her: her mile record (5 minutes and 38 seconds), her shooting accuracy (99.8 percent, apparently Barton keeps beating her, but using an arrow is cheating), her case successes (she was almost perfect, save the complete screw up job in the South Pacific, but really that was due to administration failings), her Academy test scores (the highest the businesses had ever seen. Maria got close though).
Everything.
After all, The Melinda May was a legend and Maria had never met a legend before.
"This isn't up for discussion, May. You don't get to say no."
Fury and The Melinda May were having a staring contest (Maria secretly knew who would win in the end, but before the tension in the air burst, May spoke.
"Give her to Coulson. He loves the fresh ones."
It was true, some of her classmates had been under the supervision of Phil Coulson, field agent, handler, most known for his status as close friend and partner of The Melinda May. He was tough, but kind, fair even.
"I want her to be trained by the best."
"You've gotten sentimental in the big chair, Nick."
Maria fought to keep her features completely blank.
"Take the girl, Melinda. Do it as a personal favor for S.H.I.E.L.D."
(In the end, all the personal favors for S.H.I.E.L.D. stacked up and left Melinda with nothing left to give.)
There was a moment of silence and May just stared plainly at the Deputy Director's face.
The Agent Melinda May sighed.
Maria's hope fluttered irrationally and she bite her lips to keep her features in check. The woman walked past her, calling over her shoulder:
"Come on, Agent Hill, we have work to do."
"Word is these things can kill you," May remarked, wryly, as she stepped out onto the balcony. She however, didn't object when Maria offered her the end of the lit cigarette.
The night air was cold and crisp and both women seemed immune to its touch desire their limited sleeping clothing. Maria had gone to bed hours earlier, leaving Melinda puttering around her living room. If anyone were to try and attack them, they would hit May first…and wouldn't get any farther.
"Better than the pills," Maria said shortly, breathing out.
The admission was something they hadn't spoken about in a long time. Maria's depression had never been a secret from her SO, but it had been to the rest of the agency. It was hard enough trying to be a woman in a secret agency, let alone one with depression.
Melinda's hand wrapped around Maria's thigh, her skin cool, but tight enough for her to convey what her lips couldn't. May had never been big on physical contact much before she disappeared in the desert.
Her intention now was clear.
I'm proud of you.
And the aftereffect of the touch burned in Maria's insides days after she let go.
"Ready to be an Avenger?"
May's eyes upturned towards her with a quick dip of her eyebrows that conveyed her confusion.
"The world is falling apart. Our home is gone, Mel. I know you know that Nick designed the whole AI program off you and Tasha. We need all the help we can get and you're the best."
It was a simple statement. The truth and nothing more. She wasn't going to push; Melinda had had enough people forcing her to do things she didn't want to do.
Melinda took another drag from the cigarette before her eyes fluttered over towards Maria.
Maria tried not to look at her. She knew what she would see, the beautiful, untouched Melinda May (cold, but gorgeous, like snow). But the longer she would look, they more she would catch onto little cracks on the surface, nicks and dents in the mosaic, broken bones hidden beneath perfect skin.
The years of abuse and traumas building up until the only things holding her together was a twisted sense of will to protect the people she loves on a level that even Maria didn't understand.
She exhaled slowly, smoke swirling around her, and Maria's hope fluttered irrationally.
"Come on, Agent Hill. We have work to do."