A/N: This chapter is set before chapter two. I'm excited to hear what you think.
Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows.
Enjoy!
"What do your parents like?" Jemma asked. She tapped her fingers on the countertop, listening as Skye poured various things into the blender. "I'm thinking I should bring something."
"You don't have to do that."
"Well, I know. But it seems polite."
Skye set a glass jar down on the counter and looked over at the blind beauty standing in her kitchen. "They like me," she offered. "And I'm already going with you. It's perfect."
Jemma stuck her tongue out.
Skye sighed. "Fine, fine. My mother likes wine and guns and talking about bad romance novels."
"All at once?" Jemma asked, sounding shocked.
"Well, no, not usually." Skye grinned. "That would be amazing, though."
"You and I have very different definitions of 'amazing,' clearly."
"Well, you're blind. You probably don't do a lot of gun-shooting."
"No. Never in my life," Jemma agreed.
Skye poured a generous helping of full-fat cream – high in calories, the better to keep her from fading away due to lack of nutrition – into her tube feed and studied it.
"And your father?" Jemma prodded.
"Captain America."
"Your father is Captain America?"
Skye laughed as she put the cream back into the refrigerator. "No, he loves Captain America."
"Oh, good. I don't think I could handle dating a robot with a superhero for a father."
Skye turned back towards the Brit. "Are we?"
"Are we what?"
"Are we dating?"
"By all of the definitions of the word, yes. We have been on a date, and we have another planned. We are dating."
Skye put the lid on the blender, then reconsidered and added another dollop of molasses to the mixture. "But are we…?"
She trailed off, tilting her head in the way she always did when she was confused, or hopeful, or thoughtful.
Jemma pursed her lips. "Maybe," she said softly. "Do we need to decide right now?"
Skye shook her head before remembering that Jemma couldn't see her. "I guess not," she answered, confused about the knot of nerves that had twisted itself around her esophagus. "Um, I'm going to turn the blender on now."
She kept her head down as her tube feed twirled around, hoping the noise of it would clear her jumbled head.
"She doesn't have any idea how pretty she is," Skye complained to Trip. She was on her back on the couch, a muted episode of "SVU" on the TV, Arthur on her chest snuffling happily. Trip was next to her, a beer in his hand.
"Girl, you've got it bad," Trip said, grinning.
"And she doesn't have any idea how much I want to be with her. Like a real couple," Skye said.
"Maybe you have to show her."
"Dude, you have not been listening," Skye said. "She's blind."
Trip took a sip of beer. "There's other ways to show someone something."
"I'm already taking her to my parents' house to do jigsaw puzzles. Also, where did you get that beer?"
"She's meeting your parents? Already? God, girl, we've gotta teach you how to date," Trip said.
Skye poked him with her foot.
"I brought the beer with me," Trip added. "God knows you've only got weird stuff in your fridge."
"Weird stuff?" Skye asked.
"Well, you've got a lot of spinach. And cream. And like eighty jugs of molasses. And…"
"I get it," Skye groaned. "Weird stuff."
She closed her eyes and Arthur snuggled in closer.
"Hey," Trip said softly, putting a gentle hand on her knee. "You have a good heart. You're kind, and gentle, and sassy. If this Jemma can't sense that you're exactly the right person to spend all sorts of time with, then she's blind in more than one way. But I know she's not. You two are going the distance. I can just tell."
Skye smiled, her eyes still closed. "Didn't realize you were a psychic."
"Well, since you don't believe me," Trip said, gently tickling her feet, which had ended up in his lap, "we'll get Wanda to do a tarot reading for you."
"That's the biggest lie I've heard you tell since you told that pretty girl in the bar that you were a member of a boy band."
"Hey, she went out with me," Trip protested.
"You don't believe Wanda's skills," Skye reminded him, opening her eyes. Arthur had carefully moved up her torso so that he had both paws on her shoulders, panting in his doggy way right in her face.
"Just because I don't believe them doesn't mean you don't," Trip said.
Skye sighed, smiling at her best friend. "You're right. I do believe."
Trip set his now-empty bottle on the floor. "You got anything else to drink?"
Skye shifted slightly and pointed up at the gently-swaying plastic bag overhead on the IV pole. "I've got another gallon of that stuff."
"Come on, girl," Trip said, and he grinned at her. "Nobody wants to drink that. Including you."
Skye laughed and Arthur barked and she felt better for the first time in a few hours.
"Arthur, what does a girl wear to introduce another girl to her parents?" Skye asked, turning to look at her beloved dog.
Arthur tilted his head and gave her a doggy smile.
"Jeans?"
Arthur lay down on the floor and panted happily.
"Well, that was pretty much a given," Skye muttered, one hand reaching up absentmindedly to itch the skin around her central line. It tended to get pretty irritated between dressing changes, more so if she was anxious and messed with it. She loved (and sometimes hated) that her mother would do the dressing change while she was visiting, replacing the sticky plastic dressing that covered the spot where the line sprouted from her chest. It was one way she felt she'd never be independent – she still needed her mommy to put a new Band-Aid on her. "They're basically all I own."
She flipped through her shirts before something occurred to her. "Arthur, do you realize that I just asked fashion advice from a dog… about what to wear in front of a blind girl?"
It was so ridiculous that she started giggling, and she felt like a little girl, carefree and oh-so-happy.
Eventually she settled for her favorite dark wash jeans and a violet-colored shirt she didn't usually wear since it had a v-neck and revealed her central line, but she had decided that today it didn't matter. Jemma couldn't see her, and her parents knew she had a line.
"What do you think, sir?" she asked Arthur as she twirled for him.
He barked.
"Good answer," Skye said, and she grinned at him. "Okay, time to get you dressed, and then we're going to walk to see Gramma and Poppy."
Skye knew her parents hated when she referred to them as Arthur's grandparents, and thusly she did it as often as she could. She was still grinning as she snapped Arthur's vest on, still grinning as she packed her backpack full of machines and drips and tubes, and so she was still grinning when she met Jemma on the stairs outside their apartments.
"I got your parents a gift," Jemma said as soon as Skye exited her apartment. "I hope they'll like it."
She brandished a sparkly green gift bag in Skye's direction. "I had someone help me pick it out."
"Whatever it is, they'll love it," Skye said, trying to ignore the knot of butterflies that had taken up residence in her belly.
She was quiet as they left the apartment building together, so quiet that she could hear her pumps running in her backpack.
"Skye?"
"Hmm?"
"Is something wrong?"
"No," Skye said quickly. Too quickly.
"Okay," Jemma said, sounding somewhat hurt.
Skye squeezed her eyes shut and focused on her breathing for a few steps. God, she was nervous.
It took about twenty minutes for them to walk the blocks to the Coulsons' house, and Jemma tried making conversation for about ten minutes of it. Then she just walked silently next to Skye, the noises of pumps and Arthur's breathing and Jemma's cane tick-ticking along the sidewalk their only soundtrack.
Finally they were standing on the front porch, and Skye fumbled for her house key.
"Wait," Jemma said, reaching out and touching her elbow. "Before we go in there…"
Skye looked up.
"… I think I might have offended you earlier with my flippant answer about whether or not we were dating."
"Oh, no," Skye said hurriedly. "It's just…"
"Shh," Jemma said, bringing her hand up from Skye's elbow to her lips.
Skye liked the feeling of Jemma's smooth fingers against her mouth.
"It's just… I've never been very good at relationships," Jemma went on. "I committed to a relationship too early, and… it ended badly. I never want to go through that again, so I think I'm too cautious."
"It's okay," Skye said softly. "You're my… my first… uh…"
"Date partner?" Jemma suggested.
Skye nodded, grateful that Jemma's fingers were still against her mouth so the blind girl could feel it.
Before either of them could move or speak again, the front door opened. "If you're here to carol, you're a few months early," Phil said.
Skye smiled at her father.
"Also, I happen to know Skye's a terrible singer," her dad went on.
"She is not!" Jemma protested hotly. "I hear her sing all the time at home, and…"
"He's joking with you," Skye interrupted. "Jemma, this is my father, Phil."
"Pleased to meet you, sir," Jemma said.
"None of that nonsense," Phil said. "I'm just Phil."
"Pleased to meet you, Just Phil."
"Keep this one around, Skye," Phil said. "She's funny. Now, get on in here. Your mother has spent all morning at the grocery store buying snacks."
"My mother isn't a very good cook," Skye said as Jemma found the doorstep with her cane and followed Phil into the house.
"You don't eat," Phil said.
"Well, I ate at one point," Skye said, "and she hasn't improved since then. I can still smell, you know."
"I hear you talking about me," Melinda called from the kitchen. "I'm a bad cook, not deaf."
Arthur trotted away from Skye, seeking out Melinda's presence; she was known to slip him treats when she thought no one was looking.
"Hi, buddy," Melinda greeted him, and then she came out of the kitchen and threw her arms around Skye.
"Oof," Skye grunted. "I saw you like three days ago."
"Three very long days," Melinda replied.
"Mom, before you crush me, this is Jemma," Skye said.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Coulson," Jemma said, and she stuck out her hand.
Melinda released Skye and shook Jemma's hand. "Hello, Jemma. I'm Melinda. Welcome to our home."
"I brought you this," Jemma said, holding up the sparkly gift bag.
"Thank you," Melinda said. "You didn't have to bring us anything."
Jemma flushed and Skye thought she'd never looked more adorable. "I just… my mother would be horrified if I came to a home without bringing something for my hosts."
"She sounds like a good mother," Melinda said, carefully taking the bag from Jemma's hand. "Let's see what it is, Phil."
"It's not a gun, wine, romance novel, or Captain America memorabilia," Jemma hurried to say. "I don't know anything about those."
Melinda reached into the bag and drew out a small succulent plant in a jade-green pot. "Oh, Jemma, it's lovely."
Jemma's face broke into a smile. "Really?"
"Really," Melinda said. "Look, Phil."
"It's a Groot," Phil said.
Skye groaned.
"It's not a Groot," Melinda said, rolling her eyes. "You can't call every plant a Groot. Besides, it's much cuter. Thank you, Jemma."
Skye reached up and began scratching at her central line.
"Hey, knock that off," Melinda said, slapping Skye's hand away from the site.
"It itches," Skye protested.
"And it's going to get infected if you keep doing that," Melinda retorted. "Get in the bathroom and we'll do a dressing change before you get any itchier."
Skye sighed. "Jemma, can you entertain my father?"
"I think I can entertain Jemma," Phil said. "It is my house, after all."
"Yeah, only when Mom's not home," Skye replied.
"Easy there, queen of the sass," Phil said. "Jemma, if you'll come with me to the kitchen, we can set out some snacks and you can have first crack at the beverages."
"Uh, okay. That sounds lovely," Jemma said.
She flashed a nervous grin at Skye.
"He'll take good care of you," Skye said, trying to reassure her. "And we'll be back in twenty minutes."
Once Jemma was tap-tapping her way into the kitchen, following in Phil's footsteps, Skye sighed and went to join her mother in the master bathroom. Melinda was scrubbing the counter down with heavy-duty cleaning wipes; they were bright purple and capable of killing almost everything.
Skye waited until her mother had finished, then hopped up on the countertop.
"What are you looking so grumpy about?" Melinda asked as she washed her hands, scrubbing under her nails as well. When she'd dried her hands, she pulled a dressing kit from the bathroom closet and slipped on a surgical mask before she opened it. "Shirt off."
Skye wriggled out of her violet shirt and sighed, shoulders slumping.
"Sit up straight," Melinda coached as she took the first pair of sterile gloves from the packet. She leaned in and gently peeled off the clear plastic bandage over the line.
Skye winced and hissed as the bandage came away from her inflamed skin.
"You have to stop doing this," Melinda said firmly.
"I can't," Skye muttered.
Melinda removed the specialized support from around the line itself and tucked it in with the Tegaderm bandage. Those went in a plastic bag along with the first pair of gloves.
As Melinda put on the second pair of sterile gloves, she looked at Skye. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so upset with you."
Skye made a noncommittal noise.
"I'm not upset with you," Melinda went on. "I just…"
She shook her head and removed the cleansing sponge from the kit, snapping the top part of the handle to release the cleaning solution. "I want so much more for you than this."
Skye blinked at her. "What more do I need?"
"A fix for your anxiety, clearly," Melinda answered.
"I don't know if there's anxiety meds they can put through a J-tube," Skye said.
"So we'll find you another solution," Melinda said, gently moving the sponge around the dressing site.
Skye whimpered as the cleanser came in contact with the scratches she'd opened on her chest.
"Oh, baby," Melinda said softly.
"I want her to like me," Skye blurted.
Melinda froze. "Pardon?"
"Jemma," Skye said, tears flooding her eyes. "I want her to like me."
"This couldn't have waited until after we were done?" Melinda asked, only somewhat seriously. "I'm smiling right now, by the way."
Skye let out a watery chuckle.
Melinda continued moving the sponge around the site. "Honey, she likes you. As the schoolkids say, she like you likes you."
"I don't know."
"Well, I do," Melinda said firmly. Done with the cleaning, she dropped the used sponge into the garbage and began waving her hands in front of Skye's line site to dry it. "I know she likes you, your father knows it, and Trip knows it."
"You don't know that."
"I do," Melinda said. "He called the other night, and said you were all fluttery about this girl. If she's got Trip's approval, she's gold."
She lifted a new Biopatch support to the line, carefully wrapping it around the slender tubing and adhering it to Skye's skin. When that was finished she peeled the Tegaderm from the package and gently plastered it over the line.
"There you go," Melinda said. "All done."
Skye put her shirt back on while her mother cleaned up the garbage and scrubbed her hands again. Before Skye could slide off the counter, her mother put her hands on her knees. "Listen to me, baby," Melinda said softly. "You're an amazing young woman. You're smart, and generous, and kind, and the bravest person I know. You are so strong, and independent, and gorgeous. We're lucky to have you, and Jemma's lucky to have you, whether she knows it or not. And you're lucky to have Jemma."
Skye nodded and then flung her arms around her mother.
"Shh, shh," Melinda said as Skye sobbed into her shoulder. "Love's weird, huh?"
"Mm-hmm."
"The only way it gets less weird is to go with it," Melinda went on. "Figure out what you're looking for and then find it. Sometimes it takes a while. But maybe you'll find someone who makes you happy, and supports you, and knows everything about you and doesn't care. And maybe Jemma's that person."
"Maybe," Skye whispered into Melinda's shoulder.
Melinda gently brought Skye's head up and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "Never say never, huh?"
Skye shook her head and smiled.
"Now, let's go rescue your gorgeous girl from your crazy father," Melinda said. "He's probably telling her about his Captain America cards, and having heard that story more than forty times, I can attest that it's not a story one wants to hear once."
Skye laughed and slid off the counter, hearing Arthur trotting towards them. She scooped him up and snuggled him close. "You're my good guy," she whispered to him.
He licked her face and she grimaced, then smiled. "You're my good guy, and maybe Jemma out there will be my girl. Someday."
Arthur barked, and that was all the approval Skye needed.