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“Skye.”
Skye ignored the voice, snuggling deeper under the covers and pulling a pillow over her aching head.
“Skye, get up.”
“Hnnnnnngggghh.”
“SKYE.”
The covers were pulled mercilessly from the bed and Skye half-screamed in protest, clutching her head and shivering as she squinted up at the figure standing over her.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed,” Melinda said, throwing a towel at her.
“Whyyyyyyyyy?” Skye croaked, rubbing her eyes.
“Wh’s it so fuckin’ cold?” a voice mumbled beside her.
Skye turned over and realised with a jolt that the pillow she’d pulled over her face was actually Bobbi’s arm; the older agent’s eyes were still closed as she groped half-asleep for the missing blankets with the hand that wasn’t underneath a still unconscious Jemma.
“Uh…” Skye managed intelligently, glancing back at Melinda, who was watching the three of them with her usual blank face – although, squinting through the haze of her hangover, Skye got the distinct feeling she was judging them. Not that Skye could blame her, as she had just remembered with sudden clarity exactly what had happened a few hours previously when Bobbi had finally enticed Jemma away from the smouldering hole in Natasha’s garden where the pond used to be.
In an effort to lessen the rapidly increasing sense of overwhelming embarrassment, Skye looked around trying to figure out where exactly they’d ended up. The simply decorated room, although nice, belonged to none of the people currently sharing the bed.
“Where…?”
“Nat’s guest room,” Melinda said. “Maria made you three come up here after Bobbi stuck her tongue down your girlfriend’s throat and you started hitting her with a pillow yelling, ‘I want a go too!’”
Skye had never really had much truck with God or religion, but at that moment she would happily have become a born-again Catholic for the rest of her life if it meant she could be zapped out of this conversation.
“Get in the shower,” Melinda said with a jerk of her head, “I’ll deal with these two.”
“Why can’t I sleep?” Skye whined.
“Coulson called, he needs us back at base in an hour at most. Now get up, or I’ll drag you into the shower myself.”
Skye swung herself upright and immediately turned several shades paler.
“Oh, god,” she moaned, staggering to her feet, “I’m so gonna puke.”
“End of the corridor on the left,” Melinda said, standing aside to let her run out with a hand pressed to her mouth.
On the bed, Bobbi had given up trying to find the missing duvet and pulled Jemma closer as a substitute blanket; the younger agent was still dead to the world, but nonetheless clung tightly to Bobbi, her face buried in her neck.
“Morse,” Melinda said loudly.
A frown briefly flickered across Bobbi’s face.
“Morse!” Melinda yelled, clapping her hands next to Bobbi’s ear.
Bobbi jerked upright with a yell and punched the air where Melinda’s head had been a second before.
“Good, you’re up,” Melinda said, going around the other side of the bed to shake (the unbelievably still asleep) Jemma.
“May… what the hell… oh, god…”
May didn’t look up to see if the exclamation stemmed from embarrassment or nausea; she was still trying to wake Jemma up.
“Simmons, wake up.”
“Nuhhhhh…”
“Agent Simmons, wake up now.”
Melinda’s tone would have made Fury himself quake in his boots, but Jemma just flopped a hand in the direction of her face and mumbled, “go ‘way… m’sleepin’…”
Melinda straightened up in disbelief. Bobbi had buried her face in her hands and did not seem to be aware that Jemma was practically catatonic, so Melinda knocked her shoulder.
“Hey.”
Bobbi glanced up, her face pale and her hair in an utter mess.
“What?” she croaked.
“How much did she have?” Melinda asked, gesturing at Jemma, who had curled up into the foetal position and was snuffling slightly. Bobbi glanced at her.
“Hhmm… none.”
“What?”
“None. She was so busy sciencing she didn’t drink anything, and after that she… uh…”
“Was otherwise occupied,” Melinda finished. Bobbi winced.
“Don’t tell Hunter,” she groaned.
“Do I look like I give a shit about what your ex is gonna say about this?” Melinda snapped, looking back down at Simmons. “And I thought Coulson was a heavy sleeper…”
She thought for a moment, and then leaned down again.
“Simmons,” she said loudly into Jemma’s ear, “the lab is on fire.”
She hurriedly straightened up as Jemma sat bolt upright gabbling, “Oh my lord what happened was Fitz experimenting with caesium again I told Mack not to…”
Her brain caught up with her eyes and registered where she actually was – and who she was with.
“Oh,” she squeaked, looking up at Melinda, and then across to Bobbi – “oh.” She blushed violently red and looked frantically back and forth between the two older agents, stammering, “Oh my. Oh dear. Oh lord. I, uh…”
“Simmons,” Melinda interrupted, “Coulson needs us back at the Playground. Go see if Skye’s finished throwing up yet, and then both of you shower. Separately.”
Jemma quailed under Melinda’s gaze and scrambled out of bed, shooting a final glance at Bobbi before she ran out.
“Get dressed,” Melinda told Bobbi, and headed for the door. Bobbi glared at her back and grumbled,
“How the hell are you not hungover right now?”
Melinda stopped in the doorway. “Oh, I am,” she said through gritted teeth, shooting a venomous look at Bobbi, “and I also have a very stiff neck from sleeping on the couch because the guest bed was occupied, so if I were you, Agent Morse, I would get dressed very quickly.”
~
“We’re getting pizza and only drinking root beer next time,” Maria rasped, her head resting on the cool tiles of the breakfast bar.
“You say that every time,” Natasha pointed out, pouring tar-black coffee into Captain America mugs, “and then you’re always the first one to yell ‘BODY SHOTS!’”
“Not the point,” Maria grumbled, not lifting her head as Nat stirred three sugars into her coffee and handed it to her.
Melinda came down the stairs and slid wordlessly into the chair next to Maria, raising an eyebrow when she was handed a mug with “I ♥ Falcon” written on it in what looked like red Sharpie.
“What?” Nat said. “Sam got jealous of all these.”
She gestured to the multitude of Captain America and Howling Commando mugs in the cabinet behind her (most of them had been “liberated” from Coulson over the years). Melinda rolled her eyes and drained her mug in one.
“The others all get home okay?” she asked.
“Pepper gave them a ride,” Maria mumbled, finally lifting her head enough to sip at her coffee.
“So, how’s the happy triple?” Natasha asked with a sly grin as she refilled Melinda’s mug.
A hint of a smirk flickered at the corner of Melinda’s mouth. “Hanging like a man in the gallows,” she said.
“And you’re not,” Maria said bitterly, “because hangovers are things that happen to other people.”
Melinda raised her mug in a toast. “Damn straight.”
“Maybe not the right phrase to use in this household,” Natasha remarked, and the three of them sniggered.
“So, what d'you think’s going to happen there?” Maria asked. “Drunken one night thing, or…?”
“You didn’t see how much Simmons was babbling about Morse after they got out of Hydra,” Melinda said. “Trust me, that’s been on the cards for a long time - the real question is whether Skye’s going to be comfortable sharing.”
“She looked pretty comfortable last night,” Natasha remarked with a grin. “Besides, the way you’ve talked about them before I reckon she’ll do pretty much anything to make Jemma happy.”
Melinda nodded thoughtfully. “Could be. Guess it’s up to them to sort it out, I just hope to god it doesn’t affect their work. Anyway, right now the important thing is for you guys not to tell them I don’t get hangovers, it’ll interfere with The Cure.”
“The Cure?” Maria asked.
Natasha grinned. “The best hangover cure known to man,” she said, tipping a two-finger salute to Melinda. “The icy, head-clearing terror of being roused by a (supposedly) Even More Hungover and Will Probably Snap Your Neck In Half If You Don’t Move Now Melinda May.”
Maria smiled. “I feel like that’s the voice of experience talking.”
Natasha shuddered and said in a deathly whisper, “Sarajevo 2003. Never again.”
There was a sudden sound of running feet and hurried activity upstairs; after a few moments Bobbi half-fell down the stairs, still buttoning her shirt, followed closely by Skye and Jemma, whose hair was still wet and in the process of being combed. After a moment’s panicked straightening out of each other, they scurried forwards and stood in a line staring at Melinda with expressions akin to those of doomed men facing the dawn firing squad.
Natasha and Maria both hid their smirks behind their mugs and swallowed giggles as Melinda swivelled around in her chair and regarded the trio coldly.
“Are we ready to move out?” she asked. They all nodded fervently. “Good. Car should be here any minute. Get some coffee.”
“My god, this is beautiful,” Maria whispered gleefully to Natasha as the pale-faced trio scurried forwards and downed their drinks with far less enthusiasm than they had exhibited the night before.
“I know,” Natasha whispered back. “Next time Stark challenges Thor and Rogers to a drinking contest I will pay Mel to come over.”
A horn beeped outside and Melinda jerked a thumb in the direction of the door.
“Go wait in the car.”
Bobbi, Skye and Simmons all mumbled goodbyes and bolted; once the front door had slammed shut behind them the three older agents burst out laughing.
“Awwww, bless, they looked so frightened,” Natasha giggled.
May raised an eyebrow at her. “Says the woman who once showed up to training with no pants on and her shirt inside out after I had to shake her awake and bodily throw her in the shower.”
Natasha stuck her tongue out at her former SO, who laughed and finished the last of her coffee.
“Okay, better hit the road. Same time in three weeks?”
“Make it four,” Maria said, “I’ve got… a bunch of boring official bullshit to deal with.”
Melinda nodded sympathetically and pulled her in for a brief hug.
“Four weeks it is, then,” she said, getting up and moving round the counter to hug Natasha.
“You have to text me when all that -” Natasha waved her hand in the vague direction of the door “- gets interesting.”
“Screw that, text us when Hunter finds out about it,” Maria said.
Melinda nodded to both of them with a smile and left, making sure to rearrange her expression into a formidable glower as she walked through the door and over to the waiting car.
As she slid into the front seat, she glanced in the back of the car, and although her expression did not change her heart warmed a little at the sight of Bobbi, Skye and Jemma all tightly holding each other’s hands and glancing at each other as they sat obediently straight and more than slightly terrified.