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“You’re more nervous than I am,” Skye notes, marking the last box off of her checklist. “Trust me. This isn’t first Phillip’s first night without me.”
“But it’s his first night with me,” Grant says. “He’s not going to be happy with his mom gone.”
Skye raises her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah,” Skye says, looking to Phillip. He’s curled up against his nanny, nose pressed to Grant’s shirt. “He’s miserable.”
“Well,” Grant says. “You’re still here.”
“Grant,” Skye says, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re a miracle with Phillip. Don’t worry about it.”
“I charged my phone,” Grant tells her. “And I bought a backup burner phone, in case my phone dies and I can’t find the charger and I need to call you.”
“You know I have to reimburse you for that, right?” Skye says. She’s teasing, but Grant still looks fairly horrified.
“Of course-” Grant starts, a little too loudly. Phillip lets out a small noise of protest. Grant rocks him softly. “Of course you don’t,” Grant whisper-shouts. “I bought it to keep your baby safe.”
“I have a landline,” Skye says.
Grant pauses. “You do?”
“Coulson’s idea,” Skye says. “I don’t really use it, but it’s there if you need it.”
Phillip paws at Grant’s shirt, temporarily distracting him. “Hey, little guy,” Grant coos, lifting Phillip up to his eye level. Grant wrinkles his nose “What’s the matter?”
Phillip sticks a tiny hand in Grant’s mouth and giggles. Skye just sighs. “Well, I think I’ll leave you to it,” she says.
Grant gently pulls Phillip’s hand away. “Wait,” Grant says. “Is there enough for Phillip to eat?”
“There’s like, two nights’ worth in the fridge,” Skye says. Grant opens his mouth, and Skye holds her finger up to silence him. “And yes, I have a pump. I’ll be fine.”
“We’re still skyping at seven, right?” Grant asks, as Phillip whines and reaches for Grant’s mouth.
“Yep,” Skye says. She leans forward and pecks Phillip on the head. “Be good,” she says.
“I will!” Grant affirms.
Skye pats him on the side of his arm. “Talk soon, Grant,” she says.
“Do you want help with your lugaah?” Grant asks. Phillip’s hand is pulling on Grant’s lower lip.
“You have a baby to deal with,” Skye says. “I can handle my luggage. Promise.”
Grant tries to smile at her, but it’s hard when a baby is trying to explore the wonders of the human mouth. Grant bounces Phillip lightly, if only to dislodge the baby hand in his mouth. “Bye!” he calls, as the door shuts behind Skye.
“Bye!” she calls back.
And then it’s just Grant and the baby.
Grant puts Phillip down for his second nap of the day, right on schedule. Phillip is asleep almost instantly, which Grant finds odd. Shouldn’t he mind that Skye is gone? Grant minds. He likes having Skye around. Phillip is just extra sleepy, is all. Grant strokes the little tufts of brown hair on Phillip’s head before padding out of the nursery. Okay. To move the mattress, or to not move the mattress? Skye said he should sleep in the guest bed, but she’s not home, and how is Phillip going to sleep through the night if his mommy is gone? Grant should move the mattress. It’s the only logical course of action.
He’s going to move the mattress as soon as he picks up all of Phillip’s toys. Since he almost just tripped over Mr Barks while trying walking down the hall. Mr. Barks is a dog. Well. He’s a small, plastic dog, the kind that makes noise and has wheels instead of feet.
Grant lifts his foot, as if Mr. Barks could feel pain from being stepped on. “Sorry!” Grant whispers, picking up the dog. He flicks its nose. “You need to watch where you’re going, Mr. Barks.”
Mr. Barks says nothing, but Grant thinks he understands. He dutifully places the toy under his arm, and continues down the hall.
It gets worse, the closer he gets to the end of the hall. So many toys on the floor! He doesn’t even register, until he’s opened the door and picked up no less than 3 stuffed animals, that this trail of toys has led him right into Skye’s room.
Grant almost backs out. He’s not sure he’s allowed in here. It feels…wrong, somehow.
Sure, he’s seen it before, but Skye’s always been with him. And now she’s not here and he’s standing in her room carrying baby toys. This feels like a violation.
But. Her room is a mess. The bed’s unmade, there’s clothing everywhere, and her dresser really could use a little tidying.
He’ll put the toys away, and then he’ll just…clean up a little. Just to help Skye. No going through drawers, or anything like that. But he should at least change her sheets, if she’s not home.
He picks up the last toy. A plush version of Thor’s hammer. He snickers to himself. He supposes it can’t all be Captain America themed. He walks quickly back to the nursery, and sets about putting the toys back in their proper places. Which they don’t really have. So he has to reorganize the toys, but not too much. He just puts all the plush toys in one section, and all the plastic toys in another. Should he sanitize the plastic ones? Babies did put their mouths on everything. And maybe he should wash the plushies, in case they’re dusty.
He checks on Phillip. Still sound asleep. “Who’s a handsome boy?” Grant whispers, just so Phillip remembers that he has someone watching over him. “Who’s the smartest, best little guy?” Phillip wriggles, gurgles in his sleep. Grant smiles, and double-checks the baby monitor on the crib. Still on. Good.
What to clean first? The toys, or Skye’s room? Well. Since he feels the most nervous about Skye’s room, he thinks that might be best to get out of the way, first. One last glance at Phillip.
Sleeping.
Grant heads back to Skye’s room. He gives himself more of a chance to look at the pictures in the hall, this time. He’s never really gotten the chance. He’s usually carrying a baby and following Skye around. Not that he minds. He’s just not used to the apartment being so quiet.
So he takes a moment to stop and stare. And he doesn’t know why, but the pictures, the articles, all set up in black frames; they don’t feel very Skye to him. Maybe that’s unfair. The Skye in the photos is the Skye from newspapers and magazines. Her Forbes cover. Her interview with Vanity Fair. That’s a Skye he’s never really seen. The professional. She’s just Skye to him. A mother. His boss. A genius, yes, but these articles. They make her seem so unattainable. And…maybe she is. Maybe he’s deluding himself, thinking they’re something like friends.
He shakes his head. He’s just the nanny. Nothing more.
He goes back into her room, and again gets the feeling that he should leave. It feels personal, like he’s stepped inside her head. This is her bedroom after all. This is Skye.
He tries not to linger in one spot for too long; she’s got framed pictures on her dresser, her nightstand, but they’re not like the photos in the hall. They’re personal. And he shouldn’t look, if he doesn’t have to. Just neaten up.
Don’t spend too much time on the bed. Do not do it, Grant. He’ll just make her bed the same way he makes his own bed every morning. Pull up the blankets over the pillows (so many pillows) and- There. All made.
But it looks so sloppy, that way. Maybe he should just take the throw pillows out from under the blankets. In case she comes home and wants to go right to bed.
He does this with as little hand-to-sheet contact as possible. He feels like he’s doing something wrong. He did always used to get in trouble for touching his brother’s things. Even though he never did. Ever.
He pauses. This is different. Skye is nothing like that. He straightens out her throw pillows and moves onto the clothes on the floor.
She has a lot of clothes. On the floor. And they just look expensive, which makes him nervous. But they really, really shouldn’t be on the floor. He folds pants and tops, and thanks some higher power that there are no bras or underwear in the pile. Though if there were, he’d probably just leave the clothes, leave the room, and never mention it again.
Dresses and jackets are hung. Shoes are matched and lined up outside the closet. There. Just a little tidying. Just to make her life easier. Hopefully. Hopefully he didn’t do anything wrong, here. Maybe he should go clean something else. That seems like it would be best.
The smart thing to do would be to vacuum. But Grant’s not sure if Skye has a vacuum. Or where it would be. He would have to procure a vacuum, in order to actually use one. And it might wake Phillip. He should stick to dusting. He’s good at dusting.
He also has no idea where Skye keeps the Pledge. He checks the bathroom first. Under the sink. That’s where he keeps his stuff, at least. Nothing.
Nothing in the kitchen, either. Well. He can dust with paper towels and water. Too many chemicals in the air would be bad for Phillip, anyway. He’s puffed his chest out without even realizing it. But he’s getting the hang of this, he thinks. He’s going to do something he’s good at.
Which is dusting. But still.
He cleans all the surfaces in the living room and the kitchen. He wipes knobs and faucets and handles. He rearranges the pillows on the couches and loveseats and pushes in chairs. Runs the dishwasher. Keeps checking the baby monitor, to make sure it’s on. He thinks he might be checking on Phillip something like every five minutes, but he’s not timing himself. He just drops by after he’s finished one task, then goes back out to do another.
He checks his phone, to see if Skye’s called. He checks the landline, too. But she hasn’t called or texted, yet. Which worries him, a little, but he doesn’t want to pester her.
Wasn’t he supposed to move his mattress into the nursery? There’s still so much to do. He’ll just sleep on the floor. He’ll lay out a couple of those soft playmats and grab a blanket and a pillow and sleep right by the crib. That’s just as good as a bed, really.
He’s collecting spare sheets from the linen closet when Phillip’s whine cuts in through the baby monitor. Ward whispers something about babies to himself, putting the sheets back without even thinking to fold them. The whines get louder and more urgent.
“It’s okay,” he coos, coming into the nursery. Grant doesn’t notice that Phillip stops whining the second he comes in. He’s too busy scooping Phillip up into his arms and hugging him, softly. “Hey little guy,” Grant says, wiping away stray tears with his thumb. “Did you have a good nap?”
Phillip drools a bit in response before reaching for Grant’s face with both of his chubby little hands.
“What?” Grant asks, softly lifting Phillip up. “See something interesting?”
Phillip tries to grab at Grant’s dark hair with tiny fists that can’t hold on to much. Still, he attempts to pull on clumps of hair with both hands, and when he fails, he opts for just running his fingers along Grant’s forehead.
“Are you exploring, little guy?” Grant says. He bounces Phillip lightly, and Phillip again tries to grab onto Grant’s hair. “Do you like my hair? You’ve got quite a bit yourself. Yes you do.” He does. It’s curly and a lighter shade of brown than Skye’s, but Grant’s always thought better than to ask about it. “We should get you changed,” Grant says. “And then I think it’s dinner time. Do you want dinner, Phillip?”
More drool. But it’s definitely an affirmative.
“What do you want for dinner, hm?” Grant asks. “Peas and carrots? Ice cream?” He would never give a baby ice cream. That would be irresponsible. But it’s nice to talk to Phillip, to know that he’s helping a tiny baby learn new words and phrases. Even if the baby can’t speak yet. It still helps. “Maybe just some milk?” Grant presses his nose against Phillip’s stomach, and Phillip wriggles and laughs. Grant pulls back. He adjusts his hold on Phillip, from holding his sides to cradling him. It’s more comfortable for the both of them that way. “I think you’d like that,” Grant says. “And then we’ll take Mr. Barks for a walk. And talk to mommy!”
Phillip makes a gesture that sort of looks like he’s clapping his hands. Grant takes that as excitement.
“Can you say ‘mommy,’ yet?” Grant asks, gently pressing his finger against Phillip’s nose. The baby lets out a few happy spit bubbles in response. And a noise that Grant swears sounds like the sound of “mommy.” It’s got an m sound to it, at the very least.
“You’re so smart,” Grant says. “Your mommy’s a genius, and you’re a genius too. You’ll be talking in no time!”
Phillip smacks his lips together, and tries to pull on Grant’s shirt.
“We should get you fed,” Grant says. “Do you know where food comes from?”
More spit bubbles.
“That’s right,” Grant says, walking down the hall, cradling Phillip against his chest. “Food comes from the kitchen. You’re such a smart boy!” He sets Phillip down in his chair, straps him in for safety. “Your throne, little prince,” Grant says, leaning forward in a bow for Phillip’s amusement. He gets tiny baby hands in his hair as a response. “And so strong,” Grant says, gently pulling Phillip’s hands away. “Let’s put on some music, okay? Do you have any requests?”
Phillip beats his hands down on the tray attached to the high chair. Well, beat is a generous word. It’s more like he likes the motion of moving his arms up and down, likes the strange feeling of the table. It’s still new and exciting.
“I think I have something for you,” Grant says. “Let’s check mommy’s music.”
Skye has no classical music on her laptop. Grant furrows his eyebrows together in concern. A growing mind like Phillip’s needed classical music. That was just baby 101. He’d read it in a book. Well, it had been in a book, and Grant had read a pirated copy of that book on the internet. He knows what he’s talking about.
Thankfully, there’s plenty of classical music on the internet.. And he’ll have to mention it to Skye. Politely, of course. Or maybe go buy some CDs. If they still sold CDs anywhere.
The music picks up, and Grant smiles at Phillip. “That’s nice, right?” Grant asks. “It’s good for your growing brain,” he says. “We have to protect your genius, you know.”
Phillip bangs on the table. He’s got a gummy little smile on. Grant takes that to mean he likes the music. Grant hums along to the tune as he goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle.
It’s just a little past six. Skye still hasn’t texted him.
He’s worried. She’s an adult and she’s fully capable, but what if something happened? What if she’s not okay and he needs to go to DC to get her? His car is all the way at his apartment! And he doesn’t even have a car seat for Phillip, and he can’t go anywhere without Phillip not even if Skye needs him to come down to DC, and he really should’ve thought of getting Phillip a carseat oh God, oh this is bad, this is bad.
He should keep Phillip preoccupied, though. So that the baby doesn’t know that anything’s wrong. Babies are sensitive that way.
Grant picks a show from the folder labeled “BABY TV,” before pulling out his phone.
Grant: Are you okay?
Grant: Did something happen?
Grant: Do you need me to come get you?
Grant: I don’t have a car seat for a baby but I’ll get one now and then I’ll come right down
Skye: Oh sorry I’m fine
Skye: I forgot you wanted me to check in
Skye: I was getting drinks with some friends but you wanted to skype at seven, right?
Grant: Is that okay?
Skye: Yeah! I’ll make sure to be in my room by then.
Skye: How’s my baby?
Grant: He misses his mommy!
Skye: Yeah right
Skye: You’re his favorite
Skye: Talk soon
Grant looks up from his phone, at Phillip who is completely content with the show Grant put on the laptop. Little Einsteins, or something. Skye had a bunch of episodes saved on her computer.
“Do you like this show?” Grant asks, taking the bottle away. Phillip is so engrossed that he doesn’t even miss it. “Who’s your favorite character? That one?” Grant points at the cartoon, and Phillip laughs. “That one?”
Grant pauses it. “Do you want to watch one of my favorites?” Grant asks. “I like The Little Mermaid. Has Skye shown you that one? Do you want to watch it?”
Phillip puts his hand in his mouth and drools, but Grant’s pretty sure he likes the idea.
“Okay,” Grant says, pulling up the browser. “Let’s see if we can-”
A key turns in the front door. Ward hears it like nails on a chalkboard or a gunshot. It is loud and unwelcome and dangerous. Grant stands, and places himself directly in front of Phillip’s high chair. He closes the laptop, and Phillip makes a noise of frustration. Grant tries to soothe him by stroking his hair. It works, for the time being. Phillip lets out a happy little gurgle.
“It’s okay, Phillip,” Grant says, in the softest voice he can currently manage. “Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
Grant should find something to defend himself with. A knife? No. The knives are all put away, and he wouldn’t want to risk a knifefight with Phillip in the kitchen. Grabbing a frying pan would take too long, and he can’t move away from the high chair. The door is opening. Grant nudges the high chair back, sucks in a deep breath.
He’s good enough with his fists.
“Skye?” asks a man’s voice. It’s sort of familiar-sounding, but Grant’s not taking any chances. “Honey? I was in the area and I picked up some clothes for Phillip and I thought I could drop them off.”
That could mean anything. That could be anyone. It could be a trap.
Footsteps. The intruder is coming towards the kitchen. Grant’s standing at his full height, his shoulders squared.
“Skye?” asks the voice. The intruder enters the kitchen. He looks at Grant. Stares, actually. And Grant. Grant knows him.
Phillip Coulson. One of John’s co-workers. Grant knows him. And Skye mentioned him. Why hadn’t Grant thought of that before? Phillip is trying to eat his fingers. Phillip the baby. Not Coulson. Coulson is still staring at him.
Coulson protectively clutches the bag of baby clothes to his chest. “Who the hell are you?”
Grant relaxes his shoulders. “I’m the nanny.”
Coulson raises an eyebrow. “A nanny standing like a watchdog over my grandson.”
Grant lets out an exhale, and slowly, slowly, steps to the side of the high chair. “I thought you were an intruder,” Grant admits. “I’m sorry.”
“And you were, what?” Phil asks. “Going to defend the baby with your bare hands?”
“That was the plan, sir,” Grant says. “Nothing is ever going to hurt Phillip on my watch.”
Coulson actually relaxes, a little. Mostly in the face. He almost smiles. “You look familiar. Are you one of John’s boys?”
Grant goes pale in the face, which makes Phil shake his head. “No I meant do you work for John? Jesus, kid, I didn’t mean- I mean, he probably would- Do you work for John Garrett?”
Grant tries to smile back. “I did, sir.”
“So you’re military?”
“I was,” Grant says. “But it didn’t work out.”
Coulson doesn’t press the issue, which Grant is entirely grateful for. “You do look familiar, though,” Coulson notes.
“We’ve met at a couple of events,” Grant replies. “But I don’t usually stick around those kind of things very long.”
Phillip whines in his chair. He either wants Little Einsteins back or maybe more milk or maybe he just wants to be held. “C’mere,” Grant coos, picking Phillip up. “Whatsa matter?”
Phillip sticks his hands right back into Grant’s mouth. Well, okay then.
“Here,” Coulson says, putting his bags down. “Let me hold him.”
“Sss fuunh,” Grant replies. Phillip shrieks with laugher as the vibration of Grant’s voice goes through his hands.
“Nonsense,” Coulson says. “I’ll hold him.”
Grant almost hesitates. Phillip seems happy enough right now, and Grant certainly doesn’t want to disturb him. Then again, Grant doesn’t want to get on Coulson’s bad side.
“There’s a good boy,” Coulson says, taking Phillip in his arms. “Your Pop-Pop missed you very much, Phillip,” Coulson says. Phillip wiggles a little, and whines, the same way he does sometimes when Grant gives him back to Skye. Coulson looks up to Grant, like he’s caused some kind of personal offense.
“He’s fussy sometimes,” Grant says.
“Did you feed him enough?” Coulson asks.
It hurts, and Grant isn’t sure why. “I just fed him.”
“Then you haven’t burped him, yet,” Coulson says. “No wonder he’s fussing.”
Grant doesn’t point out that he had been planning to do that, right before he thought Skye’s apartment was being broken into. But he doesn’t say that. Because that would require more authority than he’s ever really had.
“Sorry,” Grant says. “I’ll go put away the baby clothes.”
Coulson gives him a small nod of acknowledgment as Grant picks up the deceptively heavy bags.
“Wow,” Grant says. “What did you buy?”
Phillip is starting to whine, despite Coulson’s soft coos. Coulson looks up. “Just a few things, here and there.” Phillip’s whining gets louder as Grant steps out of the kitchen with the bags, and it turns into full wailing by the time Grant reaches the doorway of the nursery.
Which makes Grant drop the bags immediately and rush towards the kitchen, where Coulson is rocking the screaming baby in his arms.
“Shh, Phillip,” Coulson coos. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Grant acts without thinking. This is the child’s grandfather, for God’s sake, but he still finds himself gently taking Phillip from Coulson’s arms without asking.
“Hey,” Grant says. “Hey, little guy,” he says. “What’s wrong? Do you miss mommy? Is that it?”
Phillip blinks up at Grant, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He makes a noise that sounds like an affirmative to Grant, and Grant just holds him closer, patting Phillip on the back while cooing soft reassurances. “It’s okay,” Grant says. “It’s okay. She’s gonna be home real soon. You’re gonna hear her voice tonight, too. And I’ll be here, little guy. I’ll be here for you.” Phillip seems settled by this. He’s stopped crying, at the very least. Grant softly pats his hair. “There’s a good boy. Such a smart baby. So good.” Phillip makes more noise, little exclamations that seem far happier, now. “My special guy,” Grant says. He looks at Coulson. “I’m sorry,” Grant says. “He doesn’t usually cry like that.”
“I didn’t-” Coulson offers. “You-” he seems dejected, and Grant swallows the guilt that seems to cause. “I shouldn’t have been so rude to you,” Coulson says. “I thought-” he tries to smile. “He’s my grandson and I get-”
“It’s my fault,” Grant says. “It’s my fault, I’m sure he misses his mommy and I just haven’t been talking to him enough-”
Coulson actually smiles, then, like he’s fond of Grant. Almost. “It’s not your fault. He isn’t crying anymore, see?” He gestures at the baby, now softly sucking on Grant’s shirt. “He loves you.”
“That’s a strong word,” Grant says. “I’m just the nanny.”
Coulson chuckles to himself, straightens his tie. “You said something about talking to Skye, right?”
“I um,” Grant says. “I- What time is it?”
Coulson checks his watch. “7:05.”
“We were supposed to skype at seven!” Grant says, as urgently as he can without disturbing Phillip. “What if she thinks something happened?”
Coulson offers his arms out. “Can I hold my grandson while you set up?” he says. “We wouldn’t want Skye to worry.”
Grant hands over Phillip, and while there’s some whining, he doesn’t seem like he’s going to cry again.
Grant clicks a couple of keys on the laptop, and is acutely aware that Coulson is staring over his shoulder.
“Something wrong?” Grant asks, signing into skype.
“I can never figure out how to make this stuff work,” Coulson says. “You kids make it look so easy.”
“Well Skye is a technical genius,” Grant says. “I read all about the breakthrough she made for Stark Industries back in December and I was-”
“You’re a fan of her work?” Coulson asks.
Grant clicks on her name, and prays that Coulson isn’t making an accusation. “I think she’s incredible.”
“She is,” Coulson says.
Grant Ward: Hey, sorry we’re late. Nothing happened, just got distracted. Are you okay?
Skye: All settled. Calling now.
The sound of the call startles Coulson, which startles Phillip, but the sound of Skye saying “Hey, Grant!” through the computer settles him instantly.
“Hey!” Grant says, waving like an idiot.
Skye’s a little grainy on the screen, but she’s still so radiant. He can feel her light up the kitchen. “Um, where’s my baby?”
“Hi princess!” Coulson says, much louder than he needs to. He leans forward, his head obscuring the camera. “I came over to visit! I met your nanny!”
“Coulson,” Skye says. “First: hand the baby to Grant, and then take a step back. And second, please tell me you didn’t cause Grant too much harm.”
“I would never!” Coulson protests, giving Phillip back to Grant. “I just stopped by to drop off a few things, say hello, you know, I was in the neighborhood so-”
“Please stop buying baby clothes,” Skye says, as Grant settles Phillip onto his lap. “Phillip just outgrows them.”
“So he needs more, then!” Coulson says. “For when he outgrows his old ones!”
“He’s a baby,” Skye says. Phillip stares up at the monitor, wide-eyed, completely taken by the image of his mother on the screen. “He poops in his clothes. That is what you are buying. Fancy baby clothes for him to poop in.”
Coulson is about to protest, but Phillip begins to whine, reaching for the computer screen.
“Do you see her?” Grant asks, pointing to Skye’s image. “Do you see mommy?”
Phillip makes that sound that Grant recognizes as the beginning of “mama,” and Grant couldn’t be prouder.
“Do you hear that?” Grant says. “He’s trying to say ‘mommy!’”
Skye laughs. Phillip laughs at the sound of it. “He’s just babbling, Grant,” Skye says. “He doesn’t know words yet.”
“He’s a genius, though,” Grant says. “I can tell. A genius, just like you.”
Skye tucks her hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Grant,” she says.
Phillip makes more sounds, more grabby hands at the screen.
Skye puffs her cheeks up so Phillip can see, and he screeches with delight.
“I told you he misses you,” Grant says. “There’s no replacing his mommy.”
Skye gives Grant a small smile before making another silly face. Phillip pounds his hands on the table.
“She’ll be home before you know it,” Grant tells him. “You’ll barely even notice she’s been gone.”
“Grant,” Skye says, lifting her gaze to his face. “Can you-”
“Skye!” Coulson adds. “I’m going to give Grant my number, okay? In case he needs to call me to take over if he gets tired or needs to go home early or needs an extra pair of hands around.”
Skye pauses. “You know I hired a nanny to give you more free time, right?”
Coulson frowns. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Skye can only shake her head. “Please don’t make Grant quit.”
“I would never quit!” Grant says, scandalized. “You need me!”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Grant,” Skye says.
Grant bounces Phillip on his knee. “I hope you do,” he says.
He means it.