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He doesn’t wake up the first time Skye calls him, which he doesn’t notice until he’s haphazardly packing an overnight bag at 2:45 in the morning. One missed call from Skye, 2:31 AM. Thankfully, she’d called again, ten minutes later, but the idea that he might have slept through her crisis makes him uneasy and sick. He turns his phone’s ringer all the way up, and vows that he will never sleep through one of Skye’s calls again.
By 2:47, he’s all packed: A toothbrush, a change of clothes, his phone charger. He doesn’t really need anything else. He surveys his room, now in a state of untidy chaos from his frenzied rush to get ready. He makes one last split-second decision, running to his closet and grabbing his old stuffed dog from the top shelf. He shoves the stuffed animal in with the rest of his things, double-checks his pockets for his keys and his wallets and his Metrocard. He leaves in a whirlwind, sending Skye a quick text to let her know he’s on his way.
He arrives nine minutes later. Skye opens the door for him, wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and the most tired expression Grant’s ever seen. She’s bouncing Phillip in her free arm on autopilot, but the baby won’t stop crying.
"The subway was taking too long," Grant says, letting himself in. He drops his bag immediately, opens his arms to take Phillip from his mother. "I took a cab. I’m sorry I missed your call."
She hands him Phillip and he watches brief relief cross her features, only to be replaced by exhaustion when Phillip continues to cry.
"Shit," Skye says. Grant’s not going to remind her not to curse in front of the baby, not when she’s this exhausted. She runs a hand through her tangled hair. "He’s been crying for two hours and I thought maybe you could get him to stop, he never cries when you hold him."
Grant coos at the screeching baby. “Hey, hey Phillip, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”
"I tried feeding him and burping him and his diaper’s clean and I tried just holding him and singing his favorite lullaby but he won’t stop crying, Grant." Her eyes grow pleading, desperate, as Grant continues to rock Phillip in vain. "Do you think he’s sick? I don’t know what to do, Grant, I’m a bad mom and I don’t know what to do!"
Grant can’t bear the sight of her crying, too. “You’re not a bad mom,” Grant says, freeing up one of his arms so he can wrap it around Skye’s shoulders. “You’re a great mom.”
He tries not to show his surprise when she presses her face against his chest. “I don’t know what to do,” she says. “I’m sorry. I can’t make him stop.”
"Why don’t you go sit?" Grant says. "I’ll make you some chamomile tea and then you can sleep and I’ll take care of the baby."
She pulls her head back and nods, clearly too tired to make any protests.
Grant looks back down at Phillip. “What’s wrong?” Grant asks. He knows Phillip will answer. He’s always so smart, Grant’s little guy. He’ll tell Grant what’s wrong.
Phillip opens his mouth wide and screams. Grant swallows the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Something wrong with your mouth?" Grant asks. "Is that what you’re trying to tell me?" He carries Phillip into the kitchen, tries to soothe the baby as he puts the kettle on. Phillip sniffles and cries. "Do your gums hurt?" Grant asks. "Are you in pain?"
Another screech.
"Skye," Grant calls, from the stove. "I think he’s getting his first tooth."
She appears in the doorway. She blinks slowly. “Are you shitting me,” she says. “I didn’t even- I thought-” She looks at Grant, and she’s going to cry again. “I didn’t even think of that and it’s so obvious and how stupid can I be that-“
Grant’s by her side again, pulling her against his chest. He tries to smooth her hair and hold a baby at the same time, with some success. “You’re tired,” Grant says. “He woke you up and wouldn’t stop crying so of course you wouldn’t think of it, I wouldn’t either if I was in your place, oh Skye, please don’t cry.”
She sniffles, and looks up at him. “But you got it right away,” Skye says.
Grant shrugs. “It was a lucky guess.”
"You speak baby," Skye says. The kettle whistles. She shakes her head, like she’s trying to clear her head of frustrations.
"Do you have any cold toys?" Grant asks, as Skye pulls away to make tea.
She pulls the teapot from the cupboard and shakes her head. “I didn’t know,” Skye says. "I didn’t think about it, I’m sorry-"
"It’s okay," he says, as softly as he can. "You didn’t know."
She nods. “What else can we do?”
“We find something for him to teethe on,” Grant says. “There must be something in his room, right?”
“Probably,” Skye says. “I mean. Maybe?”
“Okay,” Grant says. “Okay, let’s go find something.”
Phillip screeches loud enough that Grant swears the lights flicker.
“Bedroom,” Skye demands.
They forget to make tea.
“We need something plastic,” Grant says. “Easy to clean, no sharp corners, no small parts.”
Skye surveys the room with a growing desperation. She stomps across the room, grabs the Captain America doll off the top of the dresser, and presents it to Grant. “Here,” she says.
“Skye!” Grant says. “That’s vintage! Coulson told me!”
“It’s perfect, though!” Skye says. “It’s got a nice plastic head and a soft body. The head is big enough for him to chew on, and he can hold onto the torso!”
She does have a point. And plastic is pretty easy to clean. Grant takes the toy and offers the head to Phillip. “Here you go,” Grant coos. “Something nice to chew on.”
Phillip sniffles, considering Grant and the toy. He reaches up with his chubby hands and pulls the head into his mouth. Well, pulls as well as a baby can. He wants to pull on it, and that’s what’s important.
The crying stops, and Phillip presses his gums against the soft, plastic head of a very expensive, vintage toy.
“We’ll clean it before Coulson comes over,” Skye says, relief breaking over her face. “We’ll go get him teething toys tomorrow.”
“I’ll stay up with him,” Grant says. “You should sleep, Skye. He woke you up.”
She stares at Grant for a moment, studies the way the corners of his mouth frown in concern. “How much stuff did you bring?” she asks.
“What?” Grant asks.
“You had an overnight bag,” Skye says. “But like, how much stuff did you bring?”
“Um,” Grant says. “A toothbrush, a change of clothes, a stuffed animal.”
Skye tilts her head.
“For Phillip,” Grant says. “I have an old stuffed dog that I thought he’d like.”
“He has plenty of toys,” Skye says.
“But Patches is special,” Grant says, more pleading than he’d meant to be. “I mean. He was special to me. He is. And you said you needed help and I though maybe-”
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Skye says, with bright, shining eyes. “Oh my god, Grant.”
He feels himself flush.
“I asked about the clothes because-” Skye rubs the back of her neck. “Teething takes a while, I think. Can you stay with me for a while? I feel like he’s going to cry a lot, now, and it’s so much to deal with and I’ll pay someone to go get your stuff but I just-”
“Of course I’ll stay,” Grant says. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”
“I’ll put him in his crib,” Skye says. “You go get Patches and then we’ll, I don’t know, pass out indefinitely?”
Grant smiles at her. “Okay,” he says.
He brings back the stuffed dog and Phillip abandons Captain American for Patches almost immediately.
Skye smiles, for the first time all night. “Glad Coulson didn’t see that,” she says. “He’d probably cry.”
“I think we’ve had enough crying tonight,” Grant says. Skye almost laughs.
Phillip sucks on Patches worn ear, drooling once more like a happy baby.
“I’d literally lose my mind without you,” she says. “I mean he’s my baby and I love him but just, like-”
Grant puts his hand on her back. “It’s okay,” Grant says. “You’re the best mom I know.”
“You don’t mean that,” Skye says.
“I do,” Grant replies.
Skye reaches into the crib to stroke Phillip’s hair. “Thank you,” she says.
“I mean it, though, Skye,” he says.
She shakes her head. “I mean for everything, Grant. For coming out here at 3AM, for giving Phillip your childhood stuffed animal, for-” She trails off, and shakes her head. “For everything.”
“You two mean the world to me,” Grant says, softly. “Both of you. This is the most important thing in my life. The only thing.”
Skye looks like she might say something else, but her thoughts are cut short when she yawns. She shakes the sleep off, barely, just enough to pat Grant on the shoulder. “Goodnight, Grant,” she says. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”
He nods, and lets his hand brush over hers. Neither of them say anything about it. And maybe she didn’t even feel anything from it, like he did. Probably not.
“Goodnight, Skye,” he murmurs. “I’m going to stay until Phillip falls asleep, too.”
She gives a lazy nod, and shuffles off to her bedroom.
Grant rubs Phillip’s tummy as he nuzzles the toy dog, and slowly drifts off to sleep.
“Be a good boy, okay, Phillip?” Grant says. “We both have to be good for your mommy. She needs us.”
Phillip lets out a little, sleepy noise.
Grant knows he understands.