A/N: This chapter was written specifically for Skimmons Week on Tumblr! The prompt was "reunion," and this chapter has a title, taken from a Regina Spektor song.

Now I'm going to get some ice cream and count down to when I can see the first episode of the new season - tomorrow morning. Sometimes not having TV really blows.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites. You're amazing!

Enjoy!

you are so sweet (so sweet), dancing to the beat

"I don't want to go," Skye said to Trip. She was on her back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling fan while an infusion of antibiotics flowed through her central line. It had been a long week dealing with a flu bug that had basically shut down her gut, leaving her tired, on parenteral nutrition, and crabby, not to mention "vomit-y," which Trip said wasn't a word. Just another of the countless perks of having gastroparesis. "What's the point? If movies have taught me anything, it's that everyone's high school reunions are terrible."

"We can see all of the people we hated in high school and we'll realize they haven't done anything with their lives and now they're divorced accountants living in shit-hole apartments and they have comb-overs and they're miserable."

"I don't know who you went to high school with, but everyone in the Facebook group for this sad event is married, or engaged, or pregnant, or has kids." Skye turned her head to look at Trip, who was rummaging around in her closet. "And I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have any of that."

"Neither do I, girl," Trip said, "and neither does Wanda. We've got different things."

"None of them as good as…" Skye trailed off.

"Hey," Trip said, exiting the closet and kneeling down beside her bed. "So we don't have those things. We have things that are right for us, right now."

Skye shook her head, trying very hard not to cry.

"Shh, girl," Trip said, and he reached in to stroke her hair. "You have two best friends, a job at the very best New Age bookstore in town, and a girl living next door who thinks you're gorgeous despite the fact she can't even see you. You have a dog that adores you, parents who've moved heaven and earth to show you how loved you are, and I can't understand why you can't see that."

Skye closed her eyes and let the tears trickle down her face. "Damn it, Trip."

"You know I'm right," Trip said. "Now, open your eyes and look at this dress I want you to wear."

He moved back to the closet and pulled out a purple silk dress, sleeveless, with a crossover bodice and a pattern of twining black ivy leaves across it.

"Nuh-uh," Skye said.

"You haven't even looked at it!"

"I've looked at it," Skye said. "I'm just not going to wear it."

"It's a gorgeous dress, you have black shoes to go with it, and there's a sparkly purse in here," Trip shot back. "What's the problem?"

Skye groaned. "Trip, you are not a stylist."

"Well, I know that, girl," Trip said. "I work at a Japanese grill despite being neither Japanese nor good at handling those gigantic cleavers they give me. Now, look over here and tell me what the issue is."

"Issues," Skye corrected him.

"You have more issues than National Geographic," Trip muttered.

"Arthur, get him," Skye ordered her beloved dog. The dog in question merely raised his head and gave his doggy grin to Trip. Skye sighed and looked over at Trip. "Well, for one, the neckline."

Trip looked down at the dress, then back up at Skye.

Skye sighed again. "It's a v-neck."

"We're all getting old here."

"I can't wear a v-neck. It shows my…" Skye waved her hand at the central line running out of the top of her T-shirt, spiraling down to the infusion pump on the bed next to her.

"You know that's not something to be ashamed of, right?"

"Don't give me those sad eyes," Skye said.

"It's not," Trip said firmly. "It keeps you alive and out of the hospital. Two wins in my book."

"So now I'm going back to a high school reunion to face people I hate, who are more successful than me, who all still remember me as the amazing vomit wonder girl, and I'm going to show up with all of this, and…"

"Take a breath," Trip said.

"Also I don't want to vomit on it," Skye said in a very small voice. "I don't want to go. I told you."

Trip sighed and hung the dress back in the closet. "Then why do you even own that?"

"My mom's best friend bought it for me," Skye answered. "Natasha thought I could wear it on dates."

"Well, good," Trip said. "You're wearing it on a date."

"No," Skye said. "Now, go away."

She closed her eyes and a few seconds later she heard Trip leave her bedroom, go down the hallway, open the door, and walk out into the hallway. Arthur snuggled up against her and she twisted her fingers in his soft fur. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him, though she wasn't quite sure why.

A minute or so later the front door opened again and two sets of footsteps came down the hall, accompanied by a tip-tap-tip she couldn't recognize. Skye didn't open her eyes. "Trip, I'm not wearing the dress and I'm not going," she said forcefully.

"Sit up," a definitely-not-Trip voice barked. "Sit up and look at me and tell me why you don't want to look pretty."

"Jemma," Skye groaned. "I'm a freak. I don't want a dress that shows that off."

She opened her eyes anyway just in time to see Jemma drop her cane to the floor and move over to the bed, finding it with her hands. "You are not a freak," Jemma said softly. "You are beautiful."

"And you are blind!" Skye protested.

If Jemma had been anyone else, and if she'd been talking to anyone else, Skye was pretty sure she would have been slapped. Instead her girlfriend just sighed. "I'm not talking about the kind of beautiful you need sight for," Jemma said. "And you know that."

Skye let out a huffy breath. "I'm not beautiful," she said. "I'm a robot. An alien hybrid. The vomiting wonder girl. I hated high school and I'm going to hate this reunion."

"You're not going to hate my dress," Jemma said, her voice gently teasing. "But you're only going to get to see it if you go to the reunion. Otherwise it stays in my closet."

Skye rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. "I'll go to the damn reunion and I'll wear the damn dress and I'll sit in the damn corner and cry the entire damn night."

"You are such a drama queen," Jemma said, gently slapping Skye's face.

"And you know Wanda's not going to let you sit in the corner all night," Trip added. "Girl's got a serious dance bug and she pretends she still doesn't understand English when anyone fights her on it."

At that Skye laughed. "Yeah, she does. All right, Jemma, I'll wear the dress. For you."

"Well, and for you," Jemma said, grinning down at Skye. "It'd be horrible to show up at your high school reunion naked… no matter what I might want."

"Plenty of time for that after," Skye said, raising her eyebrows.

"That's my girl," Jemma said, patting Skye's cheek fondly, and her face went warm with how those three words made her feel.

At the end of the reunion, Skye looked around. The gymnasium was partially-lit, balloons drifting across the floor, crepe paper streamers dangling overhead. In the corner the DJ was still spinning some sort of jazz. People were gathered in tight knots, laughing and drinking punch and reminiscing, standing out on the dance floor or seated at round tables.

She'd only had to talk to about twenty people, most of whom were fuzzy on who she was or who remembered her quite clearly, and she wasn't sure which group was worse. She'd fake-laughed with several former classmates who thought it was hilarious she worked selling Buddha statues and healing crystals, fake-laughed with several more who vividly recounted specific times she'd vomited, generally at some sort of event or in the middle of class, and a few who didn't understand why she needed a service dog and were generally dicks about it. Two assholes Skye remembered as football players with mush for brains blurted outWhat the hell's that? as they pointed to her central line, and she'd had to try very hard not to kick them in the man-parts, despite the fact that she really, reallywanted to. Instead she'd just let those people head back to their own cliques andaway from her.

But she and Jemma had danced, which was just about the best thing Skye could have imagined from the reunion; they'd danced together, slow and couple-y, and they'd been roped into doing several dances with Wanda, who for some reason was an absolute professional at the Cha-Cha Slide, Love Shack, Electric Slide, Cupid Shuffle, Boot-Scootin' Boogy, Cotton Eye Joe, and about eighty more terrible dances Skye couldn't even name.

When they were breathless from dancing, they'd retreated to their table in the back of the room, which contained only four people and one dog. To Skye they were the very best ones there. Jemma was on her right, wearing the most beautiful cream-colored dress with a gorgeous blue lace overlay (which was totally worth coming to this terrible party), holding Skye's hand and smiling. On Skye's left was Wanda, who as usual was dressed in red, this time a flowing knee-length number that made her look ethereal and had caused most people to do a double-take and ask her if she'd really been the clueless foreign exchange student (spoiler alert: yes), and on her left was Trip, who looked damn good in everything but especially fabulous in a tuxedo. And Skye had to admit, she liked the way she looked in the purple dress; she'd have to remember to thank Natasha. Arthur was on her lap; he was wearing his service vest, as usual, but Trip had given him a jaunty purple plaid bow-tie for the evening. It made him look even more adorable.

"This was an okay reunion," Skye murmured to Jemma, choosing to be as positive as she could.

"Yeah, Miss Pessimistic?"

"Yeah. I only threw up three times," Skye answered. "Well, and twice before we left the apartment."

"You still have a gut bug and you're hooked up to an IV in your chest," Jemma said. "I think people will forgive you."

Skye leaned in and put her head against Jemma's. "How come you're so wonderful?"

"I've got a good example in my life," Jemma replied, and she turned her head and kissed Skye.

"I might not have had a great time with this reunion, but that is the kind of reunion I'll look forward to any day," Skye said.

"God, you're such a cheeseball."

"And you love it."

"Of course I do. Because I love you, you alien robot hybrid amazing vomit wonder girl," Jemma said.

"Is it too soon to ask for another reunion? Our type of reunion?" Skye asked, and she leaned in and kissed Jemma.

"Guess not," Jemma replied when their lips finally parted, a dreamy smile on her face. "Never lose the element of surprise, my wonder girl."

"Never," Skye whispered, and it was an absolutely perfect reunion.