A/N: Because of poor time management/sleazy sleeping patterns, I'M a day behind schedule. I'll try to readjust it as soon as I can. Also, there's a little something brewing for you in the Haylie/Ada Verse :) Visit my profile, that has the link for the details!

Shopping with Daddy

When Grant was just a rookie at the Academy – finally amongst people after five years in the woods – he met an agent, hardened by service, who told him that there always would be missions, only they would change in nature. Back then he had an idea what he meant – mostly getting higher in the hierarchy, and the changing word demanding different tactics. But now, as he lifted the lightly dozing Haylie out of the car seat to strap her into the carrier on his chest, he understood that there could be a lot more things in life that one can consider a mission.

Like getting through grocery shopping with a twenty-two month old, preferably without a tantrum.

With the business of the last week or so – with him first on a five-day-long mission in Kazakhstan, then sent on a flash-op in London barely thirty-six hours after getting home, and Skye trying to track down a possibly radical anti-gifted group through the Internet –, he had come to the realization today that their fridge was all but empty. But with Skye out like the light, sleeping soundly in their bed – they were expecting their second baby in November, and at eleven weeks she was just as exhaustible as during the beginning of her first pregnancy, but at least the morning sickness was better this time –, he decided to take Haylie, and get the task done himself.

To his luck, Haylie had dozed off during the short car ride, too; she was a good sleeper, something he had murmured many thanks for in the last nearly two years, so he reckoned if he was quick, he could finish shopping before Haylie woke.

The plan worked for a while – he got a cart, walked into the store, and even managed to get everything from the dairy section with Haylie sleeping peacefully, her head pillowed on his chest, one of her tiny hands gripping his T-shirt in her dream. But as they got to the fresh produces, she started stirring.

Her fist first tightened around his T-shirt, then she sleepily blinked, shaking her head a little and looking around.

"Daddy?" she said in a questioning tone, slightly confused by the unfamiliar surroundings, but at least without the trembling lips that was the surefire sign of a coming sobbing-session. And really, a moment later her excitement and curiosity triumphed, and she bounced against his chest in the carrier, looking around and pointing at a crate of onions. "What that?" she wriggled, trying to reach the crate, kicking him in the side in the process. His brave little girl.

Chuckling, he leaned down, picked up an onion, and handed it to Haylie. She raised it to her face, sniffed at it, then wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Yuck. Daddy, don't want," she made her opinion clear, almost dropping the onion.

He took it from her, put it into a plastic bag, then picked a few more and added them to the cart.

"Sorry, princess, but we need some," he told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, then, to divert her attention, he picked up a tomato. "What about this? You like tomatoes, don't you?"

Haylie looked at the brightly colored vegetable, took it into her hand, feeling the soft texture before nodding, recognizing it.

"Yes! I like toma!" she said, grinning happily.

It seemed like a good game to play – before adding anything to the cart, he'd hand it Haylie to take a look at it and either approve or disapprove the purchase. It kept her entertained, and with this method they even got to practice the names of things – Grant hoped Haylie would remember at least a few of them, to be able to show off her broadened vocabulary to Skye once they got home. And true, this way shopping took almost twice as long, but on the other hand they managed to get through it without a tantrum (which was a feat in itself, because as they were approaching Haylie's second birthday, he was starting get a sense why that age was generally called "the terrible twos") – although Haylie's lips alarmingly trembled when he added a can of beans to the cart against her decision, though what her problem was with the beans, he had no idea.

By the time they got home and he walked into the kitchen with Haylie propped up on one hip, a paper bag full of groceries hold against his other side, Skye was already up, working on something on her laptop while sipping tea from a mug – the same brand she had used to drink when pregnant with Haylie, to settle her stomach, based on the scent –, their baby nothing yet but a slight curve under her top. She looked up as they approached.

"Hey," she said, smiling as she reached for Haylie and lifting the toddler into her lap. "Everything okay? Did she behave?"

Grant nodded, placing the bag of groceries on the counter.

"Like a little angel," he answered, prompting Skye to nuzzle her nose against Haylie's, making the little girl laugh.

"Oh, really?" she asked, tickling Haylie's side.

He smiled at them, then turned to go back to the car and bring in the other bags. But before he could have left the kitchen, he heard Haylie say "Mommy, we buy toma and peppe' and lots!"

Okay, so he might have been a little proud of himself.