Author's Notes: So, it seems that for the foreseeable future, I'll be watching AoS about half a week behind everyone else. I've seen the first one and the promo for the second... And saw Elliot Randolph, whose appearance will completely negate my current fic, once we find out what he's currently up to. Really? Already? That did not take long. Don't get me wrong – I love the character, and that's why I included him, but I thought it was safe to use him because the show apparently forgot about him. Oh, well.

CHAPTER FOUR

When Barton failed to return with Stark immediately, Hill called to warn him about the laser fence outside, and everyone settled back awkwardly except for Wanda, who stormed out after them, and Vision, who followed. "Maybe," Natasha suggested, "you could start on those apology brownies, Coulson. They might even be ready when the boys get back."

"Sure. The kitchen's fully stocked, so I should be good." He glanced at Audrey for permission to briefly re-abandon her, and she mutely nodded.

"I'll help," Daisy volunteered, hopping up to her feet, "as long as you stop calling me 'Skye.' I've never made brownies before."

Coulson's eyes widened in surprise. "You've never made brownies? Ever? How is that even possible for an adult human being. And sorry, I keep forgetting."

"You saw the van I used to live in. It didn't exactly have a kitchen. And there's nothing wrong with your memory." The two of them adjourned to the kitchen area, lowering their voices slightly so that others could feel free to start their own conversations in the living room area. "Also, how much time have you spent undercover over the course of your career? I'm sure you are completely used to calling people whatever name they're currently on."

Coulson started pulling bowls and ingredients from cupboards after a little exploration. "You mean they didn't teach you basic bake skills in the orphanage? I find that hard to believe. You're probably right about the name. I guess I'm just missing Skye a little; I have a hard time letting go of things, especially now."

"I wasn't exactly a prodigy in the food department. Where did you even learn? I'm still me, you know. I'm still the red corvette, only now I can fly."

Apparently, no one else had even been making a pretense at conversation, because Hunter blurted out, "Wait, you can fly? When did that happen?"

Coulson glared at him over Daisy's shoulder. "This is in reference to a previous conversation we had, of which you were not a part."

"He compared me to his car," Daisy confirmed.

Hunter shrugged. "That's flattering."

"You are also not a part of this conversation," Coulson continued. "Here, Sk...Daisy. Mix the oil and sugar in here." He went over the rest of the recipe – secret ingredients included, and added, "Ohio."

"What?"

"You asked where I learned to bake. Ohio."

After pouring vegetable oil and sugar into the bowl as instructed, Skye stirred thoughtfully. "What's in Ohio?"

"Not much, but it's where I grew up."

"I thought Wisconsin."

"No, we moved after my dad died. My mom got a job, and I quickly figured out that if I wanted to eat good food again, not just whatever she had time to throw together, the best way was to make it myself. Eggs and vanilla."

It took Skye two tries to crack an egg effectively. The first time, she tapped it too gently on the counter edge and then overcompensated, smashing it flat and splattering her sleeves with yellow gooey yolk. The second time was a little easier, though she still had to pick bits of shell out of the bowl. "While I spent my time alone learning to hack computers."

"Both have served us well." Coulson was at this point mixing the dry ingredients.

Daisy tapped him on his right hand, which was holding the spoon. "Cheating."

"What?"

"I thought you were trying to use your left hand for as much as possible, to get used to it. Or did you 'forget' that, too?"

A slight motion of the chin indicated the others in the room. "I'm making an exception today." A lot of things he used to do without thinking had become slow, laborious tasks. Clearly, he didn't want the others watching that.

"Right. Sorry."

"Speaking of 'sorry,' how many brownies do I owe you for calling you 'Skye'?"

"None; it's not a big deal."

"No, you're trying to reinvent yourself, and I don't want to get so wrapped up in nostalgia that I hold you back."

"You never have. Promise. Just the opposite."

"What, I've pushed you into growing up too fast?"

"Is this your day to wallow in guilt or something? And are you done with your bowl?"

"Kind of hard to avoid today. Not done. I just remembered that Barton loves nuts." He scrounged some more until he came up with a bag of walnuts, cutting board, and knife.

Even though she didn't think he'd have to rely on his bad hand too much for the walnut-cutting process, Daisy quickly offered, "I'll do it."

"Try not to chop anything off."

From the outsiders' perspective of the scene, the back-and-forth appeared so natural that many of them reached the same conclusion, which Darcy spoke aloud. "She's totally his kid, right?"

"Practically," Bobbi told her, "but not actually."

"So, do you know why we're here? I get that the new Avengers just sort of came along with the old Avengers, but how'd we swing an invite?"

"Don't know. Phil?"

"Are you all actually incapable of talking amongst yourselves?"

"She asks a good question."

Coulson reluctantly let his eyes slide away from Daisy's progress with the walnut-chopping, where he was anxiously watching the proximity of the blade to her fingers. "I figured Thor would mention it at some point, so this way we could have explanations all at once. Anyway, if I didn't tell you, that would probably leave you as the very last people on the planet who thought I was dead, which seemed highly unnecessary."

Maria Hill clapped her hands together and pushed herself to her feet. "You're right, Coulson. We'll let you two have your daddy-daughter kitchen time in peace, and we'll go outside so we can talk about you behind your back."

"That's... better. I guess. Thanks."

Everyone did agree there'd be a lot to talk about and started crowding back toward the door, deciding that they could talk by the lakeside. Hunter was the only one who wanted to stay, but Bobbi manhandled him out the door. "C'mon, Bob," he whined. "How often are we privy to their private conversations? This isn't at all how I pictured them. I imagined more shouting. And hugging."

"There'll be some shouting if you don't keep moving." She shut the door firmly behind him, and they joined the others, who were sinking down next to the lake right outside the front door. Tony and Barton were already there, pant legs rolled up and feet dangling in. Wanda and Vision were nowhere in sight. Either they were out in the forest somewhere, or they'd flown away.

More people dipped their feet in the water, legs trailing quietly, everyone reflective. "You know," Darcy decided, "He's different from how I remember him."