Chapter Text
“You’re just leaving me here? I thought I was a ‘security hazard’.” Skye did the air quotes, silver bracelets jangling on her wrists.
Coulson paused at the door to the cafeteria, back to her, looking out into the freedom of the secret places that did not have cabbage infused air, and were not riddled with grumpy, sweaty, lying government agents letting off steam during lunch.
“If you can get away with any espionage in ten minutes while in a room of the most highly trained men and women in the world, then I would have to give you a medal. Or at the very least, a single cell.” Coulson strolled out, the automated doors closing behind him.
Skye took a deep breath (mostly to conserve air that did not stink of cabbage, not because she was bracing herself or anything) and turned around to face the chaos that was SHEILD’s cafeteria.
Unlike the shining, high tech op center of SHEID HQ, funding for the food room was obviously kind of nonexistent.
Skye was quick to notice that very few of the agents actually had model-grade looks, unlike in those TV dramas. It looked for all the world like someone had grabbed all the most nondescript people on the planet, and handed them rocket launchers.
Taking her first few steps into the mass of tables, she had the disconcerting experience of being evaluated by every pair of eyes in the room. It was making the hair at the back of her neck raise, but for the life of her she couldn’t actually see anyone staring.
Her pace quickened, and she started to hear murmurs underneath the loud voices bouncing off the walls.
Rising Tide.
Hacker.
Traitor.
“If you don’t get me out of here in ten minutes Coulson, I will be begging for a single cell.” Skye hissed, sliding into the first empty seat she saw.
She scowled at the dents in the metal table, tracing them with her finger as she wondered idly if the dents were not just every day wear and tear, but the remnants of the battle Ward had told her about. The one with the aliens.
She huffed and looked up into the most amazing pair of eyes she’d ever seen.
“Hi.” He said, looking awkward having been caught staring.
“Oh... Hi. Sorry for just, I um, didn’t realise anyone was sitting here, I’ll just go.” Skye quickly stood up.
“You can stay. Free country and all that.” His eyes twinkled.
“Thanks.” She sat own and linked her fingers together. She stuck out her hand, and forced a smile. “Skye. But you probably already knew that, being an agent.”
The most gorgeous guy in the whole room smiled at her, holding her hand gently in one massive paw of his own.
“Not an agent. And I think I would know if I knew the name of such a beautiful da- woman.” He smiled politely at her.
“I’m Steve.” While he was kind to her, Skye detected a lack of romantic interest, the compliment he payed her more perfunctory than flirting.
“Nice to meet you Steve. Really. You’re the only one who hasn’t ignored me, or given my back filthy looks.”
The smile rushed away to be replaced with an angry scowl. “Miss, I can talk to them if you want, they shouldn’t be treating you-”
“Oh no, I kinda deserve it. Reformed traitor and all.” She jingled her bracelets at his confused face.
“I see.” He said slowly.
Yeah, right, Skye replied in her mind.
“Who was that guy at the door with you?” He asked.
“A douchebag.” Skye replied. “So if you aren’t an agent, what are you?”
“I’ve been told that the proper response to that is, ‘I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’, but I think that’s a bit melodramatic, so let’s go with ‘classified’ instead.”
She burst out laughing, and Steve gave a surprised smile.
"Hey! Why are you so surprised that I found that funny?" Skye asked.
"My friends are forever telling me I've got no sense of humour. My girlfriend says to ignore them, but she's usually the only one who laughs at my jokes."
Skye grinned. "Sounds like she's a keeper!"
She nearly melted of cuteness when he blushed, rubbing his neck, saying quietly, "That's what I hope."
Then she felt that uncomfortable tingle at her neck again, and she turned around to see a man with broad shoulders, short hair and piercing eyes staring at her.
Turning back to Steve, she muttered, “That guy is staring at me.”
He glanced at the man over her shoulder.
“That’s kinda his job.” Steve said, giving the man a friendly nod. “Don’t let it bother you. And I admit, I’ve been staring a bit myself.” Skye tried not to blush, because the man had been talking about his girlfriend not a minute earlier, and raised her eyebrow questioningly.
“Not like that!” Steve rushed to say, and Skye was glad she hadn’t blushed, becuase Steve was red enough for three.
“You look just like an old friend of mine.” He explained, frowning at her, as if trying to figure something out.
“Just like him.”
“May be I’m a cousin or something.” Skye said, her heart filling with a warm fuzzy feeling she didn’t dare name, because she new it came before disappointment.
“Maybe, but I doubt it. He’s been gone a long time.” Steve quickly changed the subject.
“What were you saying about ‘reformed traitor’?
“I used to work for Rising Tide- a hacktivist group.” She explained to his confused stare, “and after I got picked up by SHEILD, I kind of gave some information to the Tide.” She nodded slightly to herself under his stare.
“Hacktivists are hackers who give out information to support freedom of speech and stuff, right?” He asked.
“Supposedly.” Skye said.
He opened his mouth, then shook his head and smiled bitterly to himself.
“What?” Skye asked.
“I was going to ask why SHIELD would be on a hacktivists’ list, before I remembered...” He trailed off and shook his head again, standing up.
“World’s not like it used to be, Miss Skye. Or maybe it is, and before I was just too naive to recognise it.”
He politely nodded goodbye, and left.
Seconds later, Ward tapped her on the should.
“Time to go.”
_____________
Back on the Bus, Skye asked Coulson, “You wouldn’t happen to know the guy I was sitting next to at SHEILD, would you?” She asked.
“Skye, I never even saw the man.” He said a little too innocently. She raised an eyebrow at him.
Coulson clapped her on the back.
“Thanks for not getting into trouble today.” He said, nodding to a space behind her as he exited the room.
She turned around slowly to see a old framed poster from World War II. She could recognise the man on it anywhere, especially after the events in New York. But something about the jaw, the blue eyes peeping out from the faded paper after all this time made her wonder...
“NO FREAKING WAY!”
The rest of the crew jumped at her shout, but Coulson laughed, pouring himself a scotch.
At May’s enquiring glance, he shrugged.
“I’m not the only fan on the plane.” He explained, taking a sip.