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NOTE: This is a TRIGGER WARNING for abuse. You have been warned.

This is more than a team. It's a family. Small, a little dysfunctional, but a family nonetheless.

It's home.

Skye went to her bunk and passed out. The emotional roller coaster she'd been riding for the last couple hours had finally stopped, and she was ready to get off.

She curled up in her pile of blankets, and looked warily at her plaster arm. It was annoying, to say the least, but that wasn't why she was apprehensive. Broken bones brought back bad memories – memories that she had buried deep long ago.

Grant Ward wasn't the only one with a traumatic past.

She sighed. He couldn't touch her now.

Or so she hoped.

She was with her fourth foster family. Her meager possessions – a pair of sneakers, a poster of her favorite band, a ragged stuffed unicorn – could be seen in her tiny room.

She heard her foster father call her name, and pulled back the blankets. Sliding off her bed, she landed on her fifth-grade feet and hurried to him. He was nice when he was sober, but he was terrifying when drunk.

She had already seen far too much for a fifth-grader.

The pitter-patter of her own feet sounded as she ran down the hallway towards his voice. She came to a closed door and turned the tarnished brass knob with little fingers.

She could smell the alcohol as she entered the room; a pungent wave hit her in the face and she wished she could turn back. But her foster father got angry when he was ignored, and she had no desire to inflame his temper.

She stepped up to him and listened with eyes trained to the floor. He was irate; he usually was when he was drunk. He ranted on and on about his wife, and how she had abandoned him to go out with friends. She bit her tongue to avoid spilling a sharp retort – she left him because he was drunk, and she was scared.

And so little Skye was left to deal with the monster on her own.

His orders for her to run to the grocery store across the street and buy him a six-pack filtered into her conscious slowly. Her eyes traced the swirling pattern of the carpet as she dug her toes into it, wishing more than anything that she could just disappear.

She calmly responded to his rant with basic logic – a ten-year-old would never be able to buy alcohol, no matter where or when. She let her long dark hair obscure her face, almost hoping it would act as a shield.

He, however, was operating with impaired logic – logic that told him nothing but that he needed to continue drinking. Her response had pissed him off, and he grabbed her by the hair.

"You being smart with me? That's not allowed in this household."

With a simple flick of the wrist, he threw her against the coffee table. She heard the clean snap of bone as her ribs crumpled against the smooth wooden surface. She immediately became acquainted with the sensation of agony.

She scrambled to get away, breathing heavily and searching for something, anything, to defend herself.

But he was angry. And he wasn't done.

He placed a meaty hand around her neck and hoisted her into the air.

She struggled, fingernails flailing against his grip, desperately trying to turn her face away from the acrid stench of his breath. Her little legs kicked and kicked, finding no purchase against his body.

Her ribs flared with agony and she couldn't hold in the small whimper that escaped her lips. He gave her a wicked grin and looked at her with a maniac glint in his eyes.

"Not gonna get me what I want? That's not okay. It means you gotta be punished."

He whipped his arm around and slammed her head into a mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut as shards of her reflection sliced her skin and darkness encroached on her vision.

She sat bolt upright in bed with a muffled scream. Her breathing was coming in short spurts and black spots danced in her vision. She tried to calm down, but found that tears were already streaming down her face. She took a deep breath in, and a choking sob found its way back out.

She stumbled to her door and pushed it open. The hallway was pitch black and impossible to navigate, but she had to try.

Her footsteps were loud and heavy as she weaved her way down the hallway, heart racing and sobs getting stronger.

She finally stumbled into Ward's door and fumbled with the latch. She pushed it open and found him already somewhat awake, having been alerted by her clumsy trek to his room.

His expression morphed into one of panic when he saw the state she was in. "Skye! What happened?"

She let out a strangled sob and let the tears flow as he pulled her into his chest. He put a finger on her pulse and was immediately startled. Her pulse was thready and inconsistent; her breath was quick and panicked – she was hyperventilating.

"Skye, sweetheart, please calm down. You're going to pass out if you keep breathing like this. Just listen to me, okay? In, out, in, out…"

She stared into his eyes and he was almost destroyed by the stark look of absolute terror and pain he saw there. She let out a shaky breath and began following his example.

After ten minutes of careful breathing and a constant finger on her pulse, Ward was satisfied that she was out of danger.

"Skye, please tell me what happened. You're really scaring me."

She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "N-n-n-ightm-mare."

He pulled her closer and cradled her as silent tears streaked down her cheeks. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head violently and pulled herself closer to him. "I-I need a little time. I'll tell you, I promise. But it's too fresh."

"Alright. It's okay. Just go to sleep. I'll be here if you wake up again." He laid a soft kiss on her head, and drifted off again.

They both woke up to sunlight filtering in through the edges of Ward's curtains. Skye yawned and stretched, rolling out of Ward's tight grasp.

He blinked sleepily and watched her sit up. She was wearing an old gray tank top and a beat up pair of sweats – his, he realized. She followed his gaze and blushed.

"I stole them because I thought they'd be comfy. So sue me," she admitted sheepishly.

He laughed. "I don't care." His demeanor immediately changed. "What I do care about, though, is your health, and we need to talk about last night."

Her eyes fell to the sheets and she started fidgeting with a corner of the pillowcase. "You saw the x-rays. I…I had a number of foster parents. Some of them were good, and some of them were not quite up to par."

He sat down on the bed and pulled her to his chest. She continued, murmuring into the soft flannel of his shirt. "Broken bones are triggering for me. I thought…I thought that if I didn't tell anyone, I could convince myself that it was fine, and the memories wouldn't come back. But they've decided to visit anyways."

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and stroked her head. She inhaled shakily and pressed closer to him. "It was my first abusive home. That memory seems to be the worst. I think…I'm pretty sure it's because it was the scariest. By the time I got to the next home, I was just expecting it." She trailed off, seemingly unwilling to elaborate, and Ward didn't push.

He kissed the top of her head. "If you need to talk more, I'm here."

She nodded into his chest. "I know."

She pulled back and peeked up at him. "Actually, could I ask a favor?"

"Anything," he promised.

"Can I sleep in your bunk tonight? I don't really want to have that happen again. Maybe you'll be big and scary enough to scare my monsters away."

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged. "Absolutely. I'm always here to help."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you."

He grinned broadly and stood up. "You want pancakes? I hear your SO is canceling training for today."

She returned his grin with a shy smile and interlaced her fingers with his. "I'd like that."

She watched as he threw globs of light brown batter at the frying pan and carelessly tossed in blueberries. She heard the sizzle of the heat as it interacted with the delicious concoction, and smelled the enticing flavors of Ward's creation. She eagerly snatched one off the top of the stack and ate it with her hands, utensils be damned.

He watched her childlike enthusiasm and joined her in destroying the tall stack of pancakes. For a while, the only sounds they exchanged were those of quiet munching.

Skye snatched the last pancake right from under his outstretched hand, earning her a glare. "You snooze, you lose," she said, grinning wickedly.

Ward sighed. "Fine."

She hopped off her chair and ran to her room. She returned quickly, pancake in one hand and board game in another.

"Wanna let me to sink your battleship?"

They played three rounds, and Skye won all of them.

"Yes!" she cried at the completion of the fourth. "I am unbeatable!"

Ward smiled at her. "Okay, okay. I concede. You win the title of Battleship champion or whatever."

She grinned. "That means I get to choose the movie!" she crowed triumphantly.

"I don't remember agreeing to—" "Doesn't matter!"

She grabbed him and pulled him downstairs. She pushed her way into the lab, finding FitzSimmons bent over one of the little drones.

"You guys wanna join us for movie night?"

They looked at each other. "Um…it's not so much movie night, seeing as it's only 2 in the afternoon, but I will gladly join you," Simmons said.

"I guess we can take a break," Fitz said.

They followed Skye out, Ward in tow.

They pulled up The Lion King on the big screen and all squeezed together on the big sofa. To Ward's surprise, everyone but him had approved of Skye's choice.

As the movie began, he felt himself being drawn in by the beautiful songs and bright animation. He was ensnared by the lions' struggles until he felt a warm weight on his shoulder. He swiveled his gaze to the warmth and found that Skye had gone to sleep on his shoulder.

She must have been really worn out, he thought. That nightmare took a lot out of her. I should do something nice to help her forget about it.

All of a sudden, he had an idea.

Jemma watched Ward suspiciously as he gently eased himself out from under Skye, leaving her head balancing on the arm of the couch. He felt her eyes following him and turned to meet her gaze.

"Trust me," he whispered.

He glanced around before turning back to her. "If she asks, tell her only she should know where to find me."

He disappeared, leaving Simmons with a fair deal of confusion and piqued interest.

Skye woke up to the absence of her space heater and sleeping legs. Swinging them over the edge of the couch, she wiggled her toes until the pins and needles dissipated. She looked around, seeing that Ward was nowhere to be found.

Her eyes came to rest on Simmons and Fitz. Fitz was passed out on her, snoring loudly, while Simmons watched the movie. It seemed to have magically transformed into Bambi while she was out.

Simmons looked up at her and said, "He's where only you know to look."

Skye's face lit up as she popped off the couch. Her legs carried her away from her friends and down the stairs, tracing the path to her newly shared secret.

Several detours and a couple minutes later, she found herself at her secret place. Dinner was laid out, a red-and-white checkered blanket covering the floor. Grant Ward was sitting with his back to her, captivated by the wide expanse of stars patterning the sky.

"Grant?"

He whirled around, and smiled at her. "You like? I thought it might be a nice change of pace from the beginning of the day."

She launched herself forward and kissed him passionately.

"Who would have thought robots were programmed with thoughtfulness, hmm?" she teased. "But in all honesty, this is incredibly cute. Thank you."

He grinned.

She sat down and instead of inhaling her food, put an arm around his shoulders. They watched the stars together, Skye's head resting on his shoulder.

She could hardly believe it when she spotted a bright streak of light.

"Ward! Look!"

"I see," he breathed.

The picture painted in front of them was of breathtaking beauty. Stars were streaking past, splattering the dark canvas with flashes of light. They watched in awe as the stars continued falling, lighting up the night with each pass.

They sat and watched until their eyes grew heavy and a desire for sleep rousted them from their oasis. They climbed the stairs hand in hand, still thinking about the starry personal performance they had received.

Skye followed him into his bunk, intent on soaking up his warmth.

But when he removed his shirt, she found that she no longer needed it – she was warm enough already.

Pupils darkened with something animalistic, she stepped into the warm curve of his arms and traced the lines of his chiseled abs. Biting her lip, she threaded a finger along the seam of his sweatpants.

He looked into her eyes, and she found the same desire reflected there.

Still staring at him hungrily, she grabbed for the edge of her tank top and yanked it off.

Unable to resist, he stepped forward and claimed her lips for the first of many, many times that night.

Late, late at night, both staring at the ceiling with fully sated appetites, Skye reached for his hand and grasped it in her own.

"Grant?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think I'll have to come up with a new nickname for you. Robots simply can't be programmed with that."

Though she couldn't see it, he grinned.

And so concludes this story! I really hope you guys enjoyed it; I enjoyed writing it. Thank you guys again for every review, follow, and favorite. Knowing that even one person likes my stuff enough to want more is amazing; the amount that I got makes me feel unbelievably happy.

Adios!