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It's only been a few months since he's officially been back with S.H.I.E.L.D. and it's probably needless to say, but things are awkward. Some people are walking on eggshells around him, clearly worried about doing or saying the wrong thing and somehow setting him off. Others avoid him completely, which he can't say he blames them for. He's still not entirely sure where he fits in with all of this.
He doesn't remember much after having his chest crushed by Coulson's robotic hand on Maveth, the memories are a fuzzy, jumbled mess in his head. He knows the details of what happened in the months following that incident, but he has no real recollection of it. All he really knows is that he's back, and alive, and he's still not sure if he's better off for it. A part of him, way in the back of his head, tells him that maybe he and everyone else would have been better off if he'd just stayed dead on that alien planet. He tries to ignore that the voice sounds like a mix of Garrett and Christian.
But the fact of the matter is that he is alive. And he's in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody while he recovers. He's not entirely sure why, given that they're the ones who've actively been after him, usually trying to kill him. But he honestly has nowhere else to go for the time being, so he's stuck.
He doesn't even get to go out on missions, still considered potentially dangerous to others around him, even though he's been going to his mandated therapy. Whether or not he actually talks to the therapist is a whole other story. He doesn't even know why he has one, didn't realize anyone cared enough to get him one.
It's been several months now since he started talking to the woman, but he's not sure if it's helping. He still feels like he doesn't fully belong back with S.H.I.E.L.D., or that he ever will, for that matter. Maybe, despite what his therapist tries to get him to recognize, he doesn't deserve a happy life. Not after everything he's done.
The holidays only make it worse. Despite living in a secret government bunker, most of the agents are clearly excited about the holiday. Everyone's walking around with big smiles and talking about whatever plans they have for the holiday, whether they're able to get off the base and spend time with loved ones, or have to stay for whatever reason but are still going to make the best of it. He's glad that everyone else seems to be excited about the holiday, but he can't help the twisting in his gut whenever he thinks about it.
And with everyone around him talking about friends and family, it's even more of a reminder of how alone he truly is on this base. He could ask someone to spend some time with him during the holiday, but he knows it's pointless. No one would say yes. They wouldn't even give him the time of day to ask.
Letting out a heavy breath, Grant moves carefully through the hallways of the base, doing his best to ignore the many Christmas decorations littering the walls and ceiling, and the music playing sometimes when he walks past someone with their phone out. He avoids eye contact especially, not wanting to accidentally ruffle any feathers and with only one goal in mind; getting something to eat.
When he finally reaches his destination, grateful that there doesn't seem to be anyone else in the immediate area, Grant steps into the kitchenette and is immediately taken aback by what he sees in front of him. "Whoa. What's all this?"
Skye—Daisy, he corrects mentally, knowing that it's going to take him some getting used to that—jumps, turning toward him, one hand flying to her chest. "Damn. I almost forgot about your scary stealth skills."
He shrugs. "Wasn't trying to be stealthy. Sorry if I scared you."
She shakes her head. "It's fine. Just lost in my head, didn't hear you come in."
"Okay." He's quiet for a moment. "So, what is all this?" he asks again, remaining in the doorway and gesturing to all the bags and boxes spread out on the countertop.
Daisy smiles brightly. "This would be everything I could possibly need to make gingerbread houses."
He raises a brow. "Gingerbread houses?"
She nods. "Yeah. Because it's Christmas. And you can't have Christmas without gingerbread houses."
He shrugs again. "I did."
She looks at him with wide eyes. "What? How could you not make gingerbread houses at Christmastime when you were a kid? Even I was able to manage it at some of the better foster homes."
"Yeah, in case you're forgetting, half of my family were complete assholes. My parents cared more about appearance than actually enjoying anything. So basically nothing fun happened except opening presents. But even that was always on a time crunch so we could go to the next thing."
Daisy frowns. "That sucks."
"I got used to it. Can't miss something you never did."
Daisy stands up straighter, determination shining in her deep brown eyes. "Then it's settled."
His brows furrow slightly, though deep down he has a feeling of what's about to happen. "What's settled?"
Her smile brightens. "I'm gonna show you how to make a gingerbread house."
"Um…I think I'll pass."
She shakes her head. "Not a chance, Ward. You've never made a gingerbread house, I've made several, so clearly, I'm the best person to show you."
"Is this really necessary?"
"Absolutely. You've never participated in one of the best holiday traditions. We need to fix that. Right now."
He sighs, knowing that despite everything, he's still willing to do whatever it takes to make this woman happy. "There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?"
She just grins and shakes her head. "Nope."
"Fine." He shuffles across the floor to join her at the counter, his therapist's voice in the back of his head reminding him that it'll help his progress if he interacts with others instead of keeping to himself. It's not like he doesn't try every once in a while, though, everyone just chooses to stay away from him.
Keeping a decent amount of space between them, he stands next to Daisy at the counter. "Okay. So what do we do first?"
"First, we assemble the houses."
He nods. "Alright. Should be easy enough, right? Show me what to do." He listens attentively as Daisy shows and tells him exactly what to do, taking his own bag of icing and gingerbread pieces of a basic house. He stares down at the items, Daisy's voice still in his ears, trying to figure out the best way to go about all of this. He's disarmed bombs with seconds left on the timer. This will be a piece of cake.
.
.
.
Staring down at the disaster in front of him, Grant frowns deeply. Icing is still dripping from the tip of the pastry bag, the surface in front of him a mess of cracked and broken gingerbread house pieces caked in white icing. It went so wrong so fast. He can't even pinpoint exactly when it went all wrong, just that it did. Somehow.
"You know, for someone who's supposedly great with his hands at dismantling bombs, you're pretty crappy at gluing pieces of gingerbread together with icing."
He sighs heavily, dropping the frosting bag onto the counter and turning to look at the nearly finished gingerbread house next to his. "I don't know how you're so good at this."
Daisy quirks a brow at him. "You did hear the part about how I've been doing this since I was a kid, right?" She squeezes some more icing onto the front of the house and sticks a few gumdrops in place. "And it's not a big deal that you can't do it. It's not that serious."
His jaw tightens. "That's not the point. I wanted to do this, but I couldn't. And it's…" He trails off, taking slow breaths through his nose the way his therapist showed him during one of their first sessions when a topic that was brought up wasn't sitting right with him. He rests his hands flat on the countertop, closing his eyes and doing his best to get himself under control.
"Ward? Hey, you okay?"
He takes another slow, deep breath and then opens his eyes and lifts his head just enough to see Daisy looking at him with furrowed brows. She has a hand extended toward him, but he's grateful she didn't close the distance between them. He swallows thickly and nods, standing up straight again. "I'm fine."
"You sure?" She pulls her hand back and shifts on her feet. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Did you get a doctorate in psychology since the last time we talked that I don't know about?" he asks, hoping it comes off in a teasing manner.
She laughs quietly. "No, but I was hoping that maybe you'd take me up on the offer this time around."
He feels something like hope sprout in his chest. "Really?"
She nods. "Yeah. It is the season for miracles, after all. So maybe by some Christmas miracle, the great brooding Grant Ward finally opens up to someone." She takes a deep breath and shifts on her feet. "Now then, I think we need to get you some more gingerbread so you can try again."
He sighs heavily. "I don't think that's gonna make a difference. I'm terrible at this."
"No, you're just a beginner," she says, already clearing away his mess and reaching for new gingerbread. "You can't let it stop you, alright? You won't know if you're actually any good at this unless you do it again." She steps back to her own nearly finished gingerbread house and smiles proudly at it. "I definitely wasn't this good when I was a kid. But the more I did it, the better I got. A good lesson for life, I think."
He nods. "You're right." He takes a deep breath and grabs a new icing bag and then smiles over at her. "I've just gotta keep trying, no matter how frustrated I might get."
Daisy blinks. "Wow. This is certainly a new look for you."
He shrugs. "One of the benefits of therapy, I suppose."
"Right. How's that going, by the way?" she asks, placing more candies on her house.
He pauses as he's sticking two pieces of the house together. "Um…better than I thought it would. It's slow going, though."
"But still going. So that's something."
He looks at her and gives her a small smile. "Yeah, I guess it is." He shifts his gaze back down to his partially put-together gingerbread house. "And I think I might actually be doing this right."
"See, I told you you'd figure it out. Your technique could use some work, but I'm sure you'll get there eventually."
"Yeah," he breathes out. He hesitates for only a moment, watching as Daisy steps back from the counter to admire her gingerbread house, and then takes a deep breath. "Maybe…maybe we could do this again next year. And you could show me a trick or two to do this right."
She stops and looks up at him, her eyes slightly wide. And then her face relaxes and she smiles. "You know what? I think we can definitely make that happen."