A/N: Sorry for the wait, but that's it, I'm finished uni forever! YAY! Thanks for all the kind congrats I've been getting, some of you lovely people have even made me cry with your very kind words. I love you guys. xxx
Also,
SCIENCE, BIACH!
Skye took her candy, put the tests back onto the counter, and left Mel and Phil's bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her. She left their bedroom, crossed the hall and shut herself back into her own room. Bobbi's sign hung proudly on the front of the door, but Skye barely even spared it a second look.
She put her thumb into her mouth even though it wasn't bedtime. Skye's tummy felt weird. A little tight, a little bubbly. She didn't want her candy anymore. She put the half packet of candy on her desk, and climbed into bed under the covers even though she was fully clothed. She even had her shoes on.
At some point in the day, someone had moved Mr. Snow from Clint and Nat's room, back into Skye's room. Presumably the same person to have put new sheets on the bed, too. Skye thought it might have been Phil, but she wasn't really sure.
Mr. Snow's white fur was soft against Skye's cheek as she cuddled him close. He didn't even mind that he was being squished against the wall and Skye when she turned over to face away from the door. The polar bear's Captain America mask was slipping off his head, so Skye pulled it off the whole way and tucked it under her pillow, fluffing up his facial fur where the mask had pressed it flat.
"Clint got a dog." Skye told the bear, talking around her thumb.
He didn't reply, but Skye knew he was listening. Mr. Snow always listened to her.
"I wanted to go see it, but Mel said I had to stay upstairs." The bear's fur tickled Skye's nose. "I think Mel's mad at everyone." She said quietly, whispering in his ear. "Not me. I don't think so." Skye's tummy hurt again. She took a few second to suck her thumb properly, rubbing the top of her nose with her fingers. "Phil's mad, too. At Hunter. Everyone's mad at everyone."
Skye closed her eyes and imagined Hunter being chased around the streets by Phil. She felt a little scared, but then her mind made up a story about Hunter jumping over fences and Phil chasing him with a giant net, and she giggled.
"Where would he even get a net that big?" She asked Mr. Snow, opening her eyes. "And then Hunter would have to hide from Phil." She smiled. "Maybe in the trees. And paint his face like camouflage."
Someone was shouting downstairs.
Skye froze. She didn't like shouting. Especially not when the words were too far away to here, then her head liked to make up horrible things that the people could be saying about her.
The kid needs a good slap.
She's more trouble than she's worth.
Who thought getting a kid like her was a good idea? Too messed up to function. I wanted a normal kid.
Why the hell did we end up with a broken one? This is why you get good kids, not rejects like that idiot.
Sometimes Skye didn't have to make things up. Sometimes Skye just had to remember.
She pressed her face into Mr. Snow's fur, ignoring the tickling of her nose.
"It's gonna be okay." She told the bear. Tears leaked into his fur. "Right?"
Another shout. This time a little more distinctive, enough so that Skye could recognise the voice as Natasha's.
And another shout. This time Clint.
Natasha.
Clint again.
A pause. Skye held her breath and strained her ears.
"I'm not a child anymore!" Bobbi. So loud that Skye could pick out every word.
She'd never heard Bobbi yell like that before. It was hard to imagine the sight of her yelling.
The dog started to bark and a few loud bangs made the walls feel like they were shaking. Skye pulled her covers over here head, even though it was too hot. She tucked Mr. Snow under her chin.
"Don't be scared." She whispered to him, rubbing his ear under her nose. "You'll stay with me no matter what. I Mel says I get to stay here no matter what." Skye kissed his furry head. "She promised."
Skye hoped Mel was telling the truth.
…
Melinda waited until she heard the sound of Skye's bedroom door closing before turning to the rest of her kids. Each of them were watching her with varying degrees of fear. Well, except Trip. He was smirking at the utter terror on Clint's face.
She cleared her throat and Trip looked over to her. The smirk remained.
"You better clear that little smile off of your face or so help me, Antoine Triplett I will kick all that swag of yours into next week." Mel glared at him and his face fell.
"Sorry." Trip mumbled, moving to sit on the couch.
May crossed her arms. "The rest of you, get on that couch."
Clint, Natasha, and Bobbi remained still, watching her.
"Now." Mel almost growled.
The three kids jumped and shuffled over to squeeze on the couch with Trip. Really, it was too small to fit all four of them on at once, at least comfortably, but Melinda was having an extremely stressful day and right now she needed them all in the same place.
The dog attempted to hop onto Clint's lap, only his front paws landing successfully, leaving Clint to half lift, half drag the rest of the dog up. If she wasn't so livid with all of the people on her couch right now, Melinda might have described the whole scene as 'cute'. As it was…
"Dog off the couch." Mel deadpanned.
Clint didn't hesitate to push the large animal onto the ground. The one-eyed dog whined by Nat's feet, but quietened quickly when she began petting its head with her foot.
Melinda took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her lower back was aching, her head was killing her, and quite frankly, she felt as though she was running on fumes.
"Are you okay, Mom?" Bobbi asked. She sounded unsure. Mel opened her eyes to see Bobbi was rubbing the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her lips.
There was no way her little girl could be married. No way, Mel thought. Not the little girl who was sat before her, now nibbling on the sleeve. She looked closer to twelve than twenty-five.
The words left her mouth without her permission. "God. I swear you were twelve just yesterday." Mel said, sighing as she sat herself down on the coffee table. Her back protested but she schooled her features enough for the kids not to notice. "Bobbi," Melinda shook her head, "when did you grow up?"
Bobbi pulled the sleeve away from her face. The edge of it was wet. "It just happened."
Mel smiled. "You grew up overnight?"
"Something like that." The sleeve went back to her mouth. "Time flies and all that."
"Don't chew your sleeve, honey." Mel said and Bobbi pulled her hand away from her mouth, blushing.
"I wasn't." Bobbi mumbled, eyes going to her lap, and her other hand covering the wet sleeve.
Natasha nudged her with her elbow, best she could in the small space. "It's okay." She said.
"I wasn't chewing it." Bobbi insisted, and Nat looked to Melinda.
"Okay." Mel said.
For years Mel had found tiny holes in the sleeves of Bobbi's clothes. It was something she had thought her eldest daughter had grown out of some years ago. It had been a stress-induced tick, chewing on her sleeves. As far as Melinda knew, Bobbi hadn't done it for years, although, to be fair to Bobbi, it had been a very long day.
Melinda cast her eyes down to the dog, now laying over Nat and Clint's feet. It was a scruffy thing. Looked as though it needed a bath and a good groom. There was drool on Nat's sock, not that she seemed to mind in the slightest.
"Bobbi," Mel said, looking back up her daughter, "you and I going to have a long talk later, okay?"
"Okay." Bobbi said. The hand began twitching its way up again, but Nat laced her fingers with her sister's and brought their joined hands down to her lap. Bobbi smiled at her.
"Right now, I need to ask some questions about this dog." Melinda turned her attention to Clint and Nat. "You've got some explaining to do."
Natasha and Clint looked at each other, having one of their silent conversations that Melinda would never even be able to hope to decipher.
"Explain now, please." Mel said.
It was Clint who spoke.
"We saw him on a website."
"Why were you looking at animals to adopt?" Mel asked. "Surely you knew you wouldn't be able to care for it?"
Clint glanced at Nat, then back to Mel. "We weren't really looking to actually adopt. Sometimes, when we're in DC, Tasha and I like to stay in and just," he shrugged and looked to Nat, "chill, I guess." His thumb rubbed over the back of Natasha's hand. "We like to be on our own sometimes."
"Yes." Nat said. "And we like to…" She trailed off, a little smile on her face. "Pretend."
"Ew." Trip said, grimacing. "Role play."
Bobbi thumped him in the shoulder.
Clint rolled his eyes. "Not like that."
Natasha smirked.
As angry as Melinda was, that little smile on her daughter's face had her own lips twitching.
"We like to pretend," Natasha said, looking down at the dog, "pretend we're all grown up."
"We talk about what we're gonna do." Clint said. "Y'know, in the future and stuff. We look online at the house we're gonna live in, and we look at the furniture we're gonna buy, and we look at," he paused and Melinda watched him squeeze Nat's hand, "we look at what we're gonna wear on our wedding day."
All eyes in the room went to Clint. Melinda felt her mouth falling open. Not them, too. She thought. One child married in secret was quite enough. Mel wasn't sure she could cope with another who was secretly engaged. Clint squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye, all fear that had been there a few minutes before, gone. Total confidence.
"Because," Clint said, "one day I will marry Natasha. I will. And we're not engaged or anything like that," he said, and Mel let out a breath of relief, "but we will be one day." He turned to Natasha and smiled at her. She was watching him with watery eyes. "We're gonna be together forever."
Melinda didn't doubt him for a second.
The room was quiet for a moment. Mel watched Clint sign something to Nat, something Mel's limited knowledge of signing didn't allow her to translate. Natasha nodded at him and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. Bobbi and Trip watched, smiling.
Clint gave Natasha a smile, and turned back to Melinda. "We were looking at what pets we might have in the future."
"Lulu, obviously." Nat said.
Mel grimaced. That freaking spider.
Nat continued. "But we wanted a dog, too. And maybe a cat. And maybe like, a ferret or something. Or a snake."
Melinda rolled her eyes. Of course Nat would want a snake.
Clint nodded. "But dog first. And we were just looking on one of those adoption sites, and we saw his picture." He looked down at the dog. "He was in a shelter not far from here."
Melinda sighed. "And what, you both thought 'oh what a cute dog, we'll go get him'?"
"It wasn't a rash decision." Nat argued. "We saw him months ago, but then every time we went on the site, he was still there. No one wanted him."
"And then one day," Clint took over, "it said he was going…if no one wanted him…"
Trip stepped in. "They were gonna put the dog down if no one adopted him within the week."
"And you know that, how?" Mel asked.
Trip shrugged. "You need to be at least twenty one to adopt a dog, so I went with Clint to get him. I drove, Clint paid, I signed all the paperwork."
"You enabled this, Antoine."
Trip shrugged. "I'm sorry but I'd do it again."
Melinda glared at him. "You know how Phil feels about dogs, Trip."
"They were gonna kill him." Clint stressed. "We had to. It's not Trip's fault."
Mel wanted so much to be mad at Clint and Nat, so badly wanted to call them out for being selfish and unthinking, but the dog was looking at her with it's one brown eye and it was really cute and goddamn these stupid hormones and…
"You wanted to save him?" She looked at Nat and Clint. They nodded. "I love you so much."
Nat smiled. "So we can keep him?"
"No."
Their faces fell.
"I'm sorry." Mel said, and she really was. "But guys, we just can't have a dog right now. You can't take him back to DC, so I assume you wanted to leave him here?"
Two guilty faces peered back at her.
"That was the wrong assumption to make." Melinda said.
"But he would have died." Clint said.
"I know, and that's awful, but Clint you cannot just assume Phil and I can take in a pet." She rubbed at her temples. "How many times have we told you, we cannot look after a dog?"
Clint frowned. "So what, you'd just rather he was dead?"
"I didn't say-,"
"You're just," Clint stumbled over his words, "just, you and Phil are just too selfish to take care of a needy animal."
"Clint." Trip said in a low voice.
Bobbi pulled her hand, not wrapped in Tasha's, inside of her sleeve and rubbed the fabric over her lips.
Clint swallowed and looked down at his lap.
Trip looked to Melinda. "He doesn't mean that. He's just mad."
"I know." Mel said. She didn't allow her expression to convey any of the hurt she felt at Clint's words.
"We cannot take him back." Natasha said quietly. "Mama, please."
Melinda looked between the four kids on her couch. Trip was eyeing her warily, every so often shifting his gaze to Clint. Bobbi sat next to him, one hand still wrapped in her sister's, the other up by her mouth again. Natasha had one hand in Bobbi's, one hand in Clint's, biting her lip, head ducked enough that her red hair fell over one eye. Clint's eyes remained on his lap, the hand that was not holding Nat's fidgeted with one of his hearing aids.
"Trip." Melinda said.
"Yes?"
"Go home, please. I'll see you at work tomorrow."
"I can stay." He said.
"Please." Melinda said. "We'll talk at work."
Trip stood up and looked back at the three others on the couch. "I guess I'll see you guys later." He paused as he passed Melinda on his way out. "I'm sorry, Mel."
"It's okay." She smiled. Poor Trip had been pulled into something that really wasn't his fault, his generous nature having gotten him in trouble and not for the first time.
Trip left, and Melinda waited until she heard his car leave the driveway before addressing the remaining three people on her sofa.
"The dog can stay tonight."
Natasha grinned.
"Only for tonight." Melinda clarified and Nat's face fell. "Then we find somewhere for it to go."
"But-," Clint started and Melinda cut him off.
"When your father and I get home from work tomorrow afternoon, I want that dog gone. Do you understand?"
"No." Nat extracted herself from her sister and boyfriend and stood up. "He's our dog. We're not getting rid of him."
Melinda stood. "Natasha-,"
"No. No!" Nat argued.
Clint stood too, putting a hand on Nat's shoulder.
"Listen to me, Natasha, Clint." Mel looked between them, doing her best to ignore the dog shuffling around their feet. "It was unfair to assume your father and I would take care of this dog."
"Unfair?" Clint huffed. "They were going to kill him."
"And that's terrible, but it's not fair to blame me. For years we have said no to you getting a dog because we are just not in a position to care for one. It's not fair to me, to your father, to the dog." She looked down at the animal. "We'll find him a good home."
"Here would be a good home." Natasha argued, voice getting louder. "He is our dog!"
"This discussion is over." Melinda said. "The dog goes tomorrow. End."
"We are adults." Nat shouted. "You cannot tell us what to do."
"Oh, you're adults?" Mel laughed humourlessly. "Then act like adults, be responsible."
"We are." Clint insisted.
"Stop shouting. Both of you."
Nat pushed her hair away from her face. "You ask me to stop shouting? I will never stop shouting when you not let us keep our dog." Her accent was peaking.
"I have far more to be concerned about right now than a dog." Mel said. She thought back to the three pregnancy tests sitting on her counter in the ensuite and clamped down on the urge to vomit. "Dog is going to be gone by tomorrow. Yes?"
Clint glared at her. "You're just saying that so you don't have to take care of him. It's just an excuse." He shouted. "You have a pretty good life if you ask me, nothing to be concerned about."
Melinda ran her hand through her hair. "Adults?" She looked from Nat and Clint to Bobbi, now curled up on the couch, chewing on her sleeve. How could that little thing be married? "All three of you are just kids. You don't have a clue what I'm going through right now. Not a clue."
The kids fell back at Mel's statement. All three stayed quiet. Bobbi had a little frown on her face.
"You don't know what's going on right now, and that's not your fault," Mel said slowly, "but when you keep secrets from your father and I, and when you just demand we accept your actions, it just shows me that you're all still just kids." Melinda looked over to Bobbi. Her sleeve was soaked.
Melinda sighed. "You got married, Bobbi, without even talking to me. What were you thinking?" Mel asked.
Bobbi looked up at her. Frown even deeper.
"Don't chew your sleeve."
And apparently that request from Melinda was the sentiment that opened the floodgates.
Bobbi ripped her hand away from her mouth and stood up. "I'm not a child anymore!"
The dog started to bark, weaving through Natasha and Clint's legs. Clint grabbed his collar and pulled him towards the stairs, Nat following without sparing Melinda another look. They stomped up the stairs with the dog and disappeared down the hall. Bobbi followed, jogging up almost all of the stairs before turning and catching her mother's eye.
"I'm not a child." She said.
Melinda sighed. "You're my child."
"But I'm not a kid anymore, Mom." Bobbi breathed. She looked down at her hands. "I think you forget that."
Mel swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry."
"Me, too."
Melinda wanted to run to her. Pull her daughter to her and just keep her safe and happy. She wanted to do that with all of her kids.
Bobbi looked up, glaring. "Leave me alone, Mom."
"Bobbi, I-,"
"Urg. Just, just go away." Bobbi turned and climbed the last few stairs, leaving Melinda alone in the living room.
Mel dropped back down to the coffee table and put her head in her hands. The tears leaked out before she could really do anything about them. She wiped them away quickly.
"Hormones." She muttered to herself. Yeah, right.
She needed Phil.
…
Somebody walked past her bedroom door. Skye held her breath and pulled down the duvet a little to get a better listen.
"We'll figure something out, Nat." Clint's voice. "I promise, baby. We'll work it out."
"Yeah. I'm not letting him go, Clint." Nat said.
The sound of Natasha and Clint's bedroom door opening and closing had Skye pulling the covers back over her head.
"I don't think we should go see them." Skye told Mr. Snow, even though he really wanted to go and see Nat and Clint and make sure they were okay. "They sounded mad."
More footsteps passed Skye's door. Whoever that was didn't speak, but continued down the hall. A door opened. Skye listened. The door closed again and the footsteps began getting closer to Skye's bedroom.
Skye was still under the covers when her door opened. She pretended she was sleeping, closing her eyes tightly and ignoring how hot she felt under the duvet fully clothed. If it was Melinda, Skye didn't want to speak to her. At least not right now. Her tummy felt tight and her throat felt scratchy. Skye thought she might cry.
Whoever it was sat on her bed, making it dip at Skye's back. The person put a hand on her shoulder, on top of the covers, and squeezed.
"Skye?"
Skye pulled the covers from over her head and turned over. "Bobbi?"
Bobbi smiled at her sadly. Her eyes were red.
Skye frowned. "Are you upset?" She asked.
"How could you tell?" Bobbi asked, slouching on the bed.
Skye shrugged. "You just look sad, I guess."
"Yeah, well…" Her big sister looked away for a second, then turned back to Skye. "I was going to go sit in my room but, well, I think I need a hug." She said quietly.
"I can do that." Skye lifted the covers up and Bobbi climbed into the small space next to her.
The two sisters cuddled, Skye's head pillowed on Bobbi's chest. Skye sat up a little and began moving their positions, shifting further up the bed.
"What are you doing?" Bobbi asked.
Skye lay down again and patted her own chest. "Put your head here."
"Why?"
"'Cause, I'm meant to be hugging you. Not the other way around."
Bobbi chuckled, but placed her head on Skye's chest, allowing the little girl's arms to wrap around her. "Thank you, Skye." She said, taking one of Skye's hands and kissing it. "I needed this."
"S'okay." Skye stroked the blonde hair back from Bobbi's face, like Mel did to her. She wanted Bobbi to feel better. Skye pressed a kiss into Bobbi's hair. "I don't think Phil will hurt Hunter, well, not too much."
"Oh yeah?" Bobbi grinned up at her. Her eyes were still red but her smile was genuine.
"Yeah. He likes Hunter, really." Skye said.
"I know." Bobbi ran her fingers over Mr. Snow's fur. "Mom likes him, too. I think they're just mad I didn't tell them I was getting married, and then, that I got married."
Skye nodded. "I think you're supposed to invite your Mommy and Daddy to your wedding."
"So you think they're right to be mad at me?" Bobbi asked.
Skye closed her eyes. She couldn't really imagine what being a Mom or Dad was like, let alone a Mom or Dad who didn't get invited to their daughter's wedding, but Skye knew what if felt like when you thought you were someone's friend and then they invited everyone but you to their birthday party. That hurt.
"I think maybe you hurt their feelings, Bobbi."
"Yeah." Bobbi whispered. "I think I did. Mom's really mad at me. I said some things that weren't very nice to her."
The two sisters lay in bed together quietly. Skye continued to stroke Bobbi's hair.
"Bobbi?" Skye asked.
"Yeah?"
"Maybe you should say you're sorry to Melinda."
"Yeah. You're right, Skye." Bobbi said, but didn't move. "I'll give her some time to cool off, though. She seemed pretty stressed."
And I know why, thought Skye. "Kay." She said.
Skye wanted to tell Bobbi what she'd found out when she was in Mel's bathroom. Even without discussing it with anyone, Skye knew it must be a secret, a big one. Mel hadn't wanted her to go to the store with her, and now all the secrecy was making sense. The boxes she'd been hiding from Skye, the odd behaviour.
Skye wanted to tell Nat and Clint and Hunter and, really, she just didn't want it to be a secret anymore. Her tummy felt tight. Her hand stilled in Bobbi's hair. Skye was worried.
Bobbi looked up at her. "You okay, little sis?"
Skye shook her head.
"What's up?" Bobbi sat up in Skye's bed, pulling her into her lap. "What's the matter?"
Skye wrapped her arms around Bobbi's neck. "I've got a secret. And it's making me worried."
"Tell me." Bobbi rubbed her back. "Maybe I can help."
Skye shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"It's not really my secret." Skye said. "I just, I just…" she stumbled over her words.
"Take your time, honey." Bobbi soothed.
Skye swallowed and tried getting the words arranged in her head. "I found out on accident. I don't think I should tell."
"But if it's making you worried, you have to tell someone. You can tell me, Skye. Sisters tell each other everything."
Skye wiped her eyes. "You didn't tell Tasha that you got married."
"That was different."
"How?"
"Because," Bobbi ticked her side, "I'm an idiot, and you're not."
"Oh." Skye rested her head on Bobbi's shoulder and picked at the hem of Mr. Snow's Captain America costume.
"Please, tell me, Skye." Bobbi said. "Especially if it's worrying you."
"But I can't." Skye stressed. Bobbi just didn't understand. "I told you, it's not really my secret."
Bobbi sighed. "No one…" She paused. "Nobody is, is, hurting you, right?"
Skye looked up at Bobbi. "No." She assured her. "Not anymore. Not since I came to live here."
Her big sister's shoulders fell and she kissed Skye's head. "Thank God."
"It's not a secret like that."
Skye knew all about secrets like 'that'. She couldn't count how many times she'd been told to keep quiet in so many words, only to have someone else, usually a social worker or one of the nuns, tell her that if she was hurt or being hurt, she had to tell someone. Those people never seemed to be able to get it into their head that sometimes it was better to keep your mouth shut.
"It's not a secret like that." Skye said again. "It won't be a secret forever."
"It won't?" Bobbi rested her chin on the top of her head, and Skye cuddled closer.
"Nope." Skye frowned when she got a tight feeling in her tummy again. It was the same feeling she got when she went to her new school for the first time. "It can't be a secret forever."
Skye knew how babies worked, well, she knew sort of, but what she was sure of was that a lady couldn't really keep it a secret for long. Somebody would eventually notice that something was different.
"So," Bobbi said, "does that mean you'll tell me this secret eventually?"
"If I don't, somebody will." Skye muttered.
Bobbi chuckled. "As long as you're okay."
"I'm okay." Skye said. She didn't feel okay, but Bobbi had already seemed sad when she first came into the room, and she didn't want to be any more of a bother. "Hey, Bobbi?" Skye said in a purposeful attempt to change the subject.
"Yeah, honey?"
"We haven't had dinner yet."
"You hungry?" Bobbi asked.
Honestly, Skye wasn't. Every time she thought about the pregnancy tests in Melinda's bathroom, she got the uncomfortable nervous feeling in her tummy. It didn't make her want to eat, but Skye couldn't really think of another method to stop Bobbi asking her any more about the secret, so instead, she nodded.
"Come on then." Bobbi said, climbing out of Skye's bed and helping her out after. "Let's go see what we can whip up for dinner."
Skye took her hand and followed Bobbi out of the bedroom. It was quiet in the house. She assumed Clint and Nat were still in their bedroom with the dog, although she couldn't hear them, and she guessed the barren space downstairs meant Melinda had gone somewhere else in the house and that Phil and Hunter were still out playing cat and mouse.
"Bobbi, how fast can Hunter run?" Skye asked, climbing up onto the stool in the kitchen.
Bobbi opened the freezer and began pulling various bags out. "Um, pretty fast. He used to race when he was in school."
"How fast can Phil run?"
"Fast, too."
Skye looked out of the window. It was getting dark. "How far can Hunter run?"
Bobbi smirked at her. "He used to run cross-country. He's good at long distance, so, far."
"I see." Skye said. "And how far can Phil run?"
Bobbi ran her hand through her hair. "Let's hope not as far as Hunter."
…
Twice Lance had ran away from one of his wife's parents today. Twice. That was two times too many in his book, but at least he was getting exercise.
"Come back here, Hunter." Phil shouted after him as he vaulted over a little wall and sprinted through someone's front yard. "Come back and face me like a man!"
Lance spared a look behind him, then wished he hadn't bothered. Phil was fuming. And Phil was fast.
"No thank you." Hunter called back.
"Coward."
"Yep." Hunter agreed. "I'm terrified."
Phil was catching up to him. "You can't run forever, Hunter."
"I can try." Lance shouted, and tried to remember everything his P.E. teacher had told him about stamina.
When Lance Hunter was fifteen, he came third in the UK National Cross Country final, for the under 17s. Running far and running fast had apparently been his forte. A skill he only really discovered once his stepfather had come on the scene when he was eleven, and sometimes outrunning the man had been the only option. Young Lance had often thought his efforts to escape the wrath of his stepfather deserved more recognition than his efforts on the actual cross country courses his P.E. teacher took him to, but so was the way of life. Young Lance Hunter knew when to keep his mouth shut, anyway.
Third place in the under 17s had been a big deal. It meant he'd beaten hundreds of other kids in the whole of the UK to get there, something he attempted to explain to his mother one night when she asked why the hell he needed new trainers when she'd only just bought him some. Lance bit his tongue and didn't tell her she hadn't bought him any new shoes in over a year. She said that if he wanted new trainers, he'd have to pay for them himself and to leave her alone to watch the soaps. Of course, at the time, Lance had been fifteen and frankly, not very employable if his school record was anything to go by, so instead he nicked the money out of his stepdad's wallet when he was drunk. Too drunk to ever realise Lance was the one who took it, and not one of the lads down the pub.
Running in shoes he'd bought with dirty money, and a black eye he'd blamed on a football injury, young Lance Hunter ran his way to third place. It had been one of his proudest moments, even if his Mum hadn't bothered to come and see him. It didn't matter anyway because he'd gotten a trophy and everything. Quite a big one, with a bronze cup on a marble podium, and he'd had to wait for an hour after the race for his name to be etched onto the little plague on the bottom.
UK Cross Country National Final
Under 17s – Third Place
Lance Hunter
Brixton Harriers
Lance had stared at that plaque all weekend, placing the trophy on his bedside cabinet so that he could look at it while he was lying in bed. And then the next week when he returned to school on the Monday morning, Mr Abingdon, his Deputy Head, had awarded Lance a special certificate in school for his efforts. At the time he'd been more embarrassed than anything else, returning back to his seat in the hall, certificate in hand and face bright red, only to be taunted by his mates for the rest of the day, but it was only banter. They all asked about his race. Was it hard? Were you tired? How do you do it? He brushed them all off, feigning arrogance and declaring it was his 'natural talent'. They didn't have a clue that half the time Lance's 'natural talent' came from necessity.
Somewhere in the boxes that remained in London, filled with his and Bobbi's stuff waiting to be shipped over to the US, the certificate remained carefully placed inside a box of other things kept from Lance's childhood. Awards from school, all of his football medals, the athletics and swimming badges he'd got while still at primary school, even some of his old school exercise books, all kept in a box. He didn't have the cross-country trophy, though. When Lance's stepdad lost on the horses, he liked to break things. As devastated as fifteen-year-old Lance had been about the destruction of his beloved trophy, he was just happy it wasn't his face.
That memory was what Hunter found himself fixating on as he ran away from his angry father-in-law. It wasn't necessarily a positive one, but it kept his legs moving.
Lance swallowed hard as the incline of the street began to get steeper. He had no idea where he was, having been relying on instincts to get him away from Phil, and he now regretted taking that last sharp right as Hunter's lungs began protesting at the uphill running.
"Hunter!" Phil called after him. He sounded farther away than he had been a while back. "Hunter, stop!"
Hunter continued running. "No. I want to live!"
"I'm not going to kill you." Phil's voice was even quieter and Lance glanced behind him to see Bobbi's dad standing at the bottom of the hill, leaning against a wall. "I promise I won't kill you."
"I'm not sure I believe you." Hunter shouted, turning to jog backwards so he could simultaneously get further away from Phil and have him in view."
"Hunter?"
"What?"
"You're running up someone's driveway."
Lance stopped running. He turned a 360, looking at his surroundings and coming to the damning conclusion that Phil was in fact correct, and that he was in fact jogging towards someone's house, and ultimately a dead end.
"Oh." He breathed.
"Just come down, Hunter and we can talk." Phil called.
It took a couple of deep breaths for Lance to stop panting so heavily that he could actually reply to Phil. "When you say 'talk', do you mean talk, or do you mean talk?"
"What's the difference?"
"In the second one, your eldest daughter becomes a widow."
Even with the fair gap between them, Lance could see Phil rolling his eyes. "I mean talk. Like, speak with you. Have a conversation."
It seemed almost too good to be true, and Lance had been called back with promises of good deeds before, only to have the shit kicked out of him, but Phil was different, he supposed. Phil could be scary, but he probably wouldn't really beat Lance half to death…he hoped. Plus, he didn't really have much choice at this point, standing in the middle of a stranger's driveway. Hunter would have to come down eventually.
"Okay," He said, beginning the slow decline to Phil, "but I want you to take into consideration that your government still kills people for murdering other people. They've still got that eye for an eye thing going on. Is taking my life really worth losing yours over?"
This time Phil rolled his eyes so hard that Lance was surprised he didn't fall over. "Come on, Hunter." Phil said, turning and walking back down the street. "I know a place we can talk."
…
It was getting late, already almost dark on a Sunday night, but there were a few kids left hovering around the park when Phil led Hunter into the playground. The younger man followed behind quietly, leaving a decent gap between them, probably for fear Phil would take a swing the first chance he got. Hunter was like that, Phil had noticed over the years, all brash and brazen until something seemingly harmless would spook him. Phil knew a little about Hunter's stepfather. Not much, but enough to know Lance Hunter deserved better.
Phil sat down on the swing closest to him, and gestured for Hunter to take the one next to it. He frowned at Phil for a second before carefully lowering himself into the rubber seat.
"This is weird." Hunter said. "I just want you to know, that the fact we are going to have this conversation in a park, on some swings, in the dark, is weird."
"I understand." Phil smirked. "But I wanted to talk to you alone, without Bobbi."
"I love her." Hunter said without hesitation. The declaration took Phil aback and he found himself simply gaping at the younger man. "I do, Phil. I love Bobbi more than anything. I mean that. My little sister is an extremely close second and then George Best makes it in third, but Bobbi's right there at the top." He gripped the chain of the swing. "I'd do anything for her. I just thought you should know that before we get started with this."
Even though Phil knew he was meant to be livid at Lance Hunter for running off and eloping with his daughter, something in him couldn't quite get the emotions to surface. Lance loved Bobbi more than anything, and the fact that hearing him say those words was not surprising to Phil, was surprising in itself. Apparently somewhere in Phil Coulson's subconscious, he had been fully aware and approving of Lance Hunter's dedication to his eldest daughter.
That all being said, the only thing Phil found himself saying was, "Who's George Best?"
Hunter's mouth fell open. "You're kidding, right?"
"I'm not, no."
"Americans." Lance muttered. "So uncultured."
Phil cleared his throat and Hunter's head popped up.
"He's the greatest footballer of all time and that's all you need to know on the topic."
Phil nodded. "So he's a soccer player?"
Hunter looked scandalised. "No. He's a footballer. Actually, was a footballer. He's dead now." He frowned. "I'm still not quite over it, to be honest."
Smirking, Phil gave Hunter a small kick to the shin. He looked up at him.
"Hunter, just tell me something. Why did you and Bobbi get married without telling us? I mean, I assume no one else knows." Suddenly the thought that the rest of his family had been keeping this secret from him began worming it's way into Phil's mind.
"No one else knew. Well, until this morning."
That made Phil feel better.
Lance continued. "We talked about getting married." He said. "About how it would make out lives easier, you know, visa-wise. But I didn't propose until about three, three and a half weeks ago." Hunter looked over at Phil sheepishly. "I was going to ask you. Do the whole asking for your blessing thing."
Phil scoffed. "As if that would have stopped you two from doing anything if I had said no."
"Yeah." Lance smiled. "But I promise I was going to ask. But then, the question just came out, and Bobbi said 'yes', and then the next day we drove up to Gretna Green with five hundred pounds in cash and then we were married." Hunter laughed. "I didn't even wear a suit." He smiled. "Bob wore that Star Wars t-shirt you and Mel bought her, you know the one?"
Phil nodded. Yeah. He knew the one.
"I wish I could tell you that we eloped for some amazing, selfless reason." Hunter said, using his feet to swing himself slightly on the swing. "But I can't. We got married because we love each other. I suppose we couldn't wait. I know you want me to tell you I'm sorry, Phil, to beg for your forgiveness, but I'm not sure I can do that."
"You're not sorry?"
Hunter shook his head and Phil took a deep breath to keep from saying some things he didn't mean.
"I'm sorry if we hurt you and Mel. If not telling you hurt any of your feelings, but I'm glad we did it." Hunter smiled and leaned his head against the swing's chain. "I've got a wife, and she's the most wonderful person in the world. I love her so much, Phil."
"I know you do." Phil said, because what else could he really say? His little girl was married, and that made him sad and elated all at the same time. He didn't know what to feel.
He needed Melinda.
"Lance." Phil said. "Just for the record, I would have given you my blessing."
Lance pressed his lips together. "That means more than you'll ever know."
Phil looked up at the dark sky, the stars just beginning to blink into life in the clear night. It was a little cold, and the swing's rubber seat was uncomfortable, but Phil was happy. His eldest daughter was married to someone he had to admit was a great man, his youngest daughter was the most adorable child on the planet and she had told him she loved him today, and his little Natasha, well, she had apparently conspired with Clint to get a dog so she was still in his bad books, but Phil still loved her…even despite the dog.
Stupid dog.
At least he had his amazing wife and his incredible kids; Skye, Nat, Clint, Bobbi, and he supposed, Lance now.
"Hey." Phil kicked Hunter's shin again to get his attention. "You're part of this family now. I just want you to know, you're welcome in our home at any time, for as long as you need."
Hunter rubbed his hands together. "Is that offer an empty gesture because I am now your son-in-law, or do you really mean it?"
"I mean it."
"Brilliant." Hunter grinned. "Because Bobbi and I have no money and nowhere to live and we're moving back here and I got sacked. Aren't you pleased?" He said all in one breath.
Phil closed his eyes and tried to remember something about meditation Melinda had once told him.
"Very pleased."
Would it be wrong of him to hit Hunter now?
…
Bobbi made dinner. She cooked enough to feed everyone currently staying in the house, but she and Skye were the only ones to eat together in the kitchen. She didn't have a clue where her mother was, and the longer her father and Lance were gone, the more worried Bobbi got. To distract herself from the concern she felt for Hunter, the guilt she felt because of her mother, and the worry she felt for Skye and her secret, Bobbi began cleaning.
Skye remained in her place at the kitchen island, while Bobbi wiped down all of the countertops, watching quietly and picking at the food on her plate. For a kid who had said she was hungry, Skye wasn't eating much. By the time Bobbi got out the mop and began washing the floor, Clint, Nat, and the dog appeared in the kitchen, sticking close to one another like a unified frontline.
"If you're looking for food, there's plenty left on the stove." Bobbi said.
Clint nodded and walked over to the hob, beginning to dish out some of the food onto plates and some into a bowl. Skye jumped off her seat and scampered over to the dog, talking animatedly to Clint about the animal as it ate the food from the bowl on the floor.
Natasha wandered over to Bobbi and wrapped her arms around her waist. Bobbi's own arms came around her younger sister.
"I feel bad." Nat said.
Bobbi pressed her nose into Nat's hair. Bobbi could smell she'd been using their mother's shampoo. "In what way?"
"Guilty." Nat whispered. "We were horrible to Mom."
"I know."
"I think she's in her room." Natasha said. "But I don't think she wants to see us tonight."
Rocking her little sister gently, Bobbi rubbed a hand up and down Nat's back. "We'll apologise tomorrow. Once Mom's not so mad."
"Yeah." Natasha giggled then.
"What's so funny, Bubba?"
Nat smiled. "When you rub my back, I can feel your rings. It's just crazy that you're actually married."
"You're telling me." Bobbi muttered. She couldn't help smiling herself. "And from the sounds of things, you're gonna be next."
Nat pulled away from the embrace, blushing. "One day."
Bobbi kissed her forehead. "One day."
"I was thinking 'Dave'." Bobbi heard Clint say, and she turned her attention to where he was eating dinner over the sink and Skye was lying on the kitchen floor next to the stretched out dog, rubbing his belly. She had to admit, the dog was pretty cute.
"Nah." Skye said, propping herself up on her elbow. "Not 'Dave', he just doesn't look like a 'Dave'."
"Maybe if we call him 'Cap', Dad will be more likely to let us keep him." Nat said.
"Unlikely." Bobbi smirked. "What about 'George'?"
Clint grimaced. "Why 'George'?"
Bobbi shrugged and thought to her husband. "No reason."
"Not 'George' either." Skye said, running her fingers through the dog's blonde fur.
Bobbi glanced at the kitchen clock. "Skye, I think it's your bedtime now."
Skye sat up. "But Mel's not here."
"She's in her room, but you've got school tomorrow." Nat said. "I think you should go to bed now, malyutka."
Skye leaned over and hugged the dog. "I hope he doesn't have to go." She said, looking up at Clint. "I like him."
Clint smiled. "Well, when you see Mel and Phil, tell them that. Put in a good word for him."
"Okay."
"Let's get you to bed, honey." Bobbi said, and without more than a little grumble under her breath, Skye followed Bobbi upstairs.
…
Skye had been tossing and turning in bed for what felt like a lifetime.
Really, Skye didn't want to go to bed without seeing Melinda or Phil. Especially Melinda. Every night, Melinda would put Skye to bed, and she would lie next to Skye so they could talk. Sometimes she read stories, sometimes Mel made them up, and sometimes they just talked about their days.
Bobbi had made sure Skye got bathed and ready for bed, and even though she read Skye one of the stories out of the book Miss Potts gave her at school to practice her reading, it wasn't the same as having Mel there. She missed her.
Skye couldn't get to sleep. Even cuddling Mr. Snow wasn't helping. Skye wanted Melinda.
She left Mr. Snow in bed, tucking him in under the covers and kissing his nose. "Sleep tight." Skye whispered to him, and slipped out of her bedroom as quietly as she could manage.
The fact that Phil and Melinda's bedroom was just across the hall from Skye's was something that the little girl was forever grateful for. It meant that slipping from one room to the other could be done without any of her siblings realising Skye had even left her bed.
The little girl opened Melinda's door without knocking. She knew that was against the rules, but today hadn't exactly been a normal day. Many rules seemed to have gone out of the window and Skye didn't really care about rules right now, she just wanted Mel….she wanted her mommy.
Melinda was sleeping when Skye entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Phil wasn't there, but Skye had heard some voices downstairs while she was in bed and she suspected one of them was Phil's. Melinda lay on her back with the covers tangled around her feet, one arm under her head, the other over her belly.
That's where the baby is, Skye thought. It made her tummy tight to think about, but somewhere else, somewhere deeper, there was another feeling. It was the same feeling Skye felt when she made Bobbi laugh, or when Natasha gave her cuddles. She ignored it.
Skye climbed onto the bed as carefully as she could to not wake up Melinda, and lay down next to her, shuffling down the bed until she was eye-level with Mel's belly. She gently moved Melinda's hand away from her stomach, and replaced it with her own.
"Are you in there?" Skye whispered against Mel's belly. Her tummy didn't look like it had a baby in it or feel like it. Skye pressed her ear against Mel's side. It didn't sound like a baby was in there, not that Skye knew what she was meant to be listening for
"Hello?" Skye tried, listening again for any sign of the baby. "Baby?" She whispered, addressing it directly. Weren't babies meant to kick, or move, or at least to something?"You're ignoring me."
"Fine." Skye mumbled, shifting to move back up the bed and cuddle more comfortably against Melinda. "Maybe you're asleep, baby."
The little girl slipped her thumb into her mouth and pillowed her head on Melinda's chest. She wrapped Mel's arm around herself and closed her eyes. "I don't like you, baby." Skye murmured around her thumb. "We're not friends."
Skye thought she felt Mel's arm tighten around her, but when she opened her eyes, Melinda still seemed to be asleep. Taking the opportunity while she was still awake, Skye reached up and pressed a kiss to Melinda's cheek.
"I love you, Mommy." The words felt right leaving Skye's mouth. She repeated them to make sure. "I love you, Mommy." They definitely felt right.
Skye smiled, closed her eyes and snuggled back down.
"Baby, I don't like you."
…
Melinda pretended to be asleep. She really didn't think she could talk to Phil right now. A much as she needed him, she just needed some time.
But then the tiny shift in weight on the bed gave her a clue that it was not Phil climbing in with her, but her baby girl, Skye. Mel was about to indicate that she was awake, when Skye began speaking.
"Are you in there?" Skye whispered, her little hand on Mel's belly.
Melinda's heart stopped. She knew.
"Hello? Baby?" Skye spoke directly into Mel's tummy. "You're ignoring me."
Oh, God. Skye knew.
"Fine. Maybe you're asleep, baby."
How the hell did she know?
Skye moved back up the bed and cuddled close to Melinda, resting her head on her chest. It took everything Mel had to continue pretending to be asleep and not to wrap an arm around Skye. It didn't seem to matter though, for Skye lifted her arm around herself anyway.
"I don't like you baby." Skye's words were slurred but Mel heard them. She swallowed and willed her breathing to remain steady. "We're not friends."
It was almost funny.
Mel couldn't help but tighten her grip on little Skye, she wanted nothing more than to comfort her baby, but didn't dare let her know she had been eavesdropping on her.
Skye kissed her cheek. "I love you, Mommy."
Oh, her baby girl. Melinda could have cried.
"I love you, Mommy."
Her little Skye. Her daughter.
"Baby, I don't like you."
Well shit, Mel thought. How the hell do I handle this one?
A/N: Review please! I adore reading them. Hit me up on tumblr, too if you want to chat. :) xx