Coulson didn’t respond to the comment that was undoubtedly one of Skye’s commonly occurring jabs at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s system of secrets, instead opting to notice that she was distracted. He stood slightly behind her, watching expectantly for her to finish up whatever she was doing. When she did, he gave her a wince and a tight smile. “Yeah, I noticed. I was going to say it was great to see a friendly face after all the mean mugs and evil eyes in the conference, but with that comment I’m not so sure. If I’m getting old this early, I’ll just ask for more compensation. An upgraded office, with very comfortable backrests on the chairs.”
“I gave you a smile. A sincere one. That’s the most emotion I’ve shown today and I’m exhausted.” Skye nodded to the spot next to her expectantly, but with clear impatience. The lack of action had been making her uneasy from the start, and the fact it was the first time the headquarters had officially contacted Coulson since they’d arrived was almost even worse. “What level whatever clearance shit you’re not allowed to share did you discuss now? Aliens, nazis? Both-in-one?”
coulson: i've stared at this for twenty minutes now and i still don't know what to address. coulson: i suppose i'll start with thanking you for your optimism. coulson: but skye, are you okay? skye: no offense but fuck skye: YEAH IM TOTALLY OKAY skye: just climbing the corporate ladder, one sexual text accidentally sent to the wrong person at a time. (: skye: try it with fury, feels great.
“I hope that’s the last time for a long time that they fly me out for a conference. Those airplane seats are stiff, I’m going to need a chiropractor. Remind me again why one of their best operatives doesn’t get first class?”
“That’s classified,” she mused playfully, back to the door and attention on the string of text running through the screen before her only to promptly disappear seconds later. Spying (was it spying if she was still a part of the group? asking for a friend.) on Rising Tide conversations, the usual gist. Unsurprisingly, their Texan branch was currently too occupied with talking about shark week and not nearly enough about Hydra. Skye turned to look over her shoulder once she’d decided there really wasn’t anything useful to see, exasperated sigh quickly replaced by a welcoming grin. “I wasn’t really paying attention, no offense, but I heard something about a dinosaur and how bureaucracy makes your back hurt. Getting old, Phil?”
skye: We don't have a ruler. Come downstairs and lay in the snow with a boner so we can see how much snow we've gotten. Put your 8 inches to a less shameful use.
Coulson was observing Skye punching from the doorway. The reason why he’d been awake was because he needed an extra cup of coffee to keep him awake to finish some reports. The way Skye hit the punching bag was wrong in so many ways. For starters, her position was lanky and the stance she was in was backwards. But overall, she’d improved. Slightly.
He leaned on the doorway casually and waved at her. “Hey, why you up so late?”
Skye responded with a slight shrug, starting to tug at the elastic wrap on her right hand. “A lot has happened lately and, instead of dealing with it like a normal person, I’m internalising. Or, outernalising. Whatever you call this,” she motioned to the interior with a scoff. “Something tells me you aren’t up to judge my punching skills, either. What’s up, AC?”
“God, I loathe PETA. Add that on my list of organizations to burn down. And you are an exception into entering my office. Skye, you’re always doing that so I’m used to it. But these people hacked into my office.” Coulson walked closer and examined the pinata a little closer. “It’s gonna be like dodge ball all over again.” He smiled at the thought of it.
“In their defense, your office isn’t difficult to hack into. They probably didn’t even mean to hack into it, just see if the rumours about the love of your life were true. What’s the door code again, captainamerica123?”
“What -” she paused, eyeing him curiously, “happened during dodgeball? Did you use live grenades?”
He chuckled. “I would love to whack a bunch of snakes, Skye. It would let out my whole Hydra love-hate relationship with them.” Coulson eyed the pinata more carefully. “Let’s hang it for an event, or maybe we should make an announcement about illegally entering my office.”
“PETA won’t be happy with your love-hate relationship,” she deadpanned, turning to look in the same general direction as Coulson. “No, let’s not. I illegally enter your office all the time. Plus, if we hang it for an event, ops will try to show off their superiority in physical… stuff, and by the time they’ve decided on the person that’ll use their well-toned arms to whack the thing, sciences will already have blown it up. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Great. Thanks, Sherlock Holmes, for the input. What should we do with this? Huh? Hang it in the SHIELD lunch room?” He turned around to face Syke and angrily motioned towards it. “Where did I go wrong?”
“Do you have a bat? Unless it was sent by Hydra and is actually full of real snakes, I think we should just go for it,” she suggested. “No, you went very right. I’d love for someone to bring me a thing I can whack and get candy. Who do you think it’s from?”
“Why on earth is there some gigantic child’s game on my desk?” He motioned towards the large pinata on his desk with a note stamped with the words ‘sorry’. “This had to happen, now?”
“Beating something with a bat until stuff bursts out of it sounds like a great game for the small ones.” Skye snatched the note off the object for closer inspection, then putting it back with a light shrug. “Maybe it’s an anger management thing. Think of whoever’s pissed you off in the last week and it’s probably them making sure you won’t maul them the Shining style. Hence the ‘sorry’. Great detective work, I know.”
