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It’s not so much the fact that there’s a stranger in the doorway.
And it’s not the fact that he’s claiming to be Phillip’s father.
And it’s not even that Grant had almost half an erection not two minutes ago. Or that Skye had kissed him so hard it had almost bowled him over. Or that she’d called Phillip his son. Their son.
It’s not any of those things, individually. It’s all of them. All at once.
Which is probably why he just... freezes.
There’s a part of him that wants to sock this guy in the face for having the nerve to show up on Skye’s doorstep. There’s a part of him that feels a lot like yelling. Not anything in particular. Just yelling.
And then there’s his favorite part. The most shameful piece of him the one that’s telling him ‘Of course.’ Of course this would happen, right when he was about to get everything he’d ever wanted. Of course. That part wants to burst into tears.
And really, he’s got no idea what to do. So he picks none of the above, and tries something else.
He places his hand on Skye’s arm. Moves her behind his body. She lets out a noise of protest, but doesn’t push him off. “I’m sorry,” Grant says, shoulders squared. “Who are you?”
The guy has the audacity to look at Skye, and then back to Grant. The nerve. “Well,” he says, when it’s clear Skye’s not going to say anything. “I’m uh, I’m Miles. Nice to meet you.” He offers his hand.
Grant’s never been so utterly offended in his entire life. “You’re who?”
“Miles,” he repeats. “Miles Lydon? You may have met my baby? I don’t know? Are you friend or boyfriend or husband or-”
“He’s not your baby,” Skye says, finally nudging Grant out of the way.
Grant sighs in relief without meaning to. “Oh,” he says. “Thank-”
“No, I mean, he’s Miles’ bio-baby,” Skye says. “But you’re not his father, Miles. And you know that.”
Well. That’s less relieving.
“What I know,” Miles says. “Is that if my math is correct, you were a month and a half pregnant when I left.”
“You could be bad at math,” Grant says.
Skye’s hands are balled into fists. “He’s not,” she says.
Grant swallows. “Oh.”
“Can you go check on Phillip, Grant?” Skye says. “Please.”
“I’m not leaving you,” he says. It’s a natural reflex, and he’s suddenly petrified it’s the wrong one.
Skye gently takes his hand. “Grant,” she says, softly. She moves towards him. Strokes his jaw. “I’m a tough girl, okay? I can handle myself.”
He almost protests, but she kisses him first.
“I want you to be with Phillip,” she says. She’s standing on the tips of her toes, so that she can be at his eye-level. Their noses brush. “For a little while.”
He nods. “If you want,” he says. “Just let me know if you need me, okay?”
She nibbles her lip. “Yeah,” she says. “Of course.” She gives him another quick peck on the lips.
It’s a spark every time. A jolt through his body. He loves it. He needs it. He doesn’t want to leave her side.
“Please,” she murmurs.
He backs away, before he can get lost in her expression.
She spares him one last glance before turning her back to him. “You,” she says to Miles. “Me. Kitchen, now.”
“So I can come in, then?” he asks. “Your boyfriend won’t kill me?”
Grant takes a deep breath in, and keeps walking.
“No promises, Miles,” Skye says. “Depends on how you behave yourself.”
Well. She didn’t say that Grant wasn’t her boyfriend. The conversation fades as he winds father down the hallway. He doesn’t mind. Because he’s Skye’s boyfriend! He’s her boyfriend.
He has to be. Right? Isn’t that what she wants?
Phillip is still sleeping. Grant’s not sure what he expected; there hasn’t been much commotion. Maybe he’d thought Phillip would sense it and wake up, or cry loudly enough to interrupt Miles and Skye.
But Grant’s glad Phillip is unaware; he’s glad Phillip is peaceful and content. There shouldn’t be any reason for him not to be.
Phillip’s so perfect. The smartest, sweetest baby in the whole world. Because he’s Skye’s, and that means something.
He’s Skye’s baby, and not Grant’s. He is Skye and Miles’. There’s not an iota of Grant in his face, in his curly hair. That’s all his mother and father. Who does Grant really think he’s fooling?
He checks under the crib for Snoopy. The dog perks up, wags his tail despite Grant’s growing frown.
“You’ve been watching him, right?” Grant says. “You’re gonna protect him if I can’t.”
In all honesty, Grant knows he’s reaching. Miles is harmless. Physically, at least. And he didn’t seem particularly malicious, either. Rather low-key for someone who thinks Skye was dating someone else.
Which makes one person, Grant supposes. One and a half. Since Grant’s only half-sure, he’s dating Skye, at this point.
Snoopy nudges Grant’s hand with his nose.
“I know,” Grant says. “I wanted him to-” He sucks in a breath. “He doesn’t even seem that bad, Snoopy. What am I supposed to do? He wasn’t even supposed to be in the picture and-”
Where does this leave Grant?
He can’t break up a family, if that’s what it comes to. He’ll have to move out. Find a new job. Find a new baby.
“I can’t leave him,” Grant says. His knows his lip is quivering. He can’t stand it. He can’t stop it, either. “I can’t leave Phillip. Or Skye. But what if they want me to go?”
Snoopy gives a small whimper in response.
“They might want that!” Grant says. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m Phillip’s dad.”
A wuffing sound, followed by a tilt of the head.
“I’m not,” Grant says. “I didn’t make him. I wasn’t there when Skye had him. I don’t even- He’s so little. He won’t even remember me, when he’s older.”
That hurts. That hurts a lot to think about. Because there’s nothing Grant would rather have in his life than Phillip and Skye.
With a heavy sigh, Grant rises to his feet.
Such a happy, beautiful baby. Grant gently reaches into the cradle. Strokes Phillip’s hair. He cradles his hand under Phillip’s head, and one under his tiny body. “Can I lift you?” Grant whispers. “Is that okay?” He lifts Phillip, and waits to see if he stirs.
He doesn’t. He coos once, and then snores.
“Okay,” Grant says, softly. “Okay, sleepy baby. I’m gonna hold you, now.” He takes Phillip against his chest. Rocks him slowly. “My little baby. You like me, right?”
Phillip nuzzles against Grant’s chest. Gets a little bit of spit on the cotton of Grant’s shirt.
“I love you,” Grant says. “I love you so much, Phillip, I don’t want to leave you.”
He knew lullabies, he’d sung them to Phillip before. But his mind was at a blank. Singing would feel false. And he’s worried, for the first time ever, that Skye will walk in on him singing, and think he looks stupid.
He can’t afford to look stupid right now. He can’t.
“Please don’t make me go,” he whispers. “Phillip, would you want to come with me?”
No. No, no. He’d known that was wrong the second he’d said that. Not his baby. Not his. If he goes, he goes alone.
It’s killing him.
Grant holds Phillip a little tighter to his chest. Stifles a sniffle. This is ridiculous. He’s a grown man. He’ll have to go work for the military again, and that will be that.
“My baby boy,” Grant says, like it will be the last time. “My beautiful little prince.”
What about Snoopy? Snoopy will have to stay, too. He couldn’t separate Snoopy and Phillip. It wouldn’t be right.
He won’t cry. He won’t.
Someone’s coming. Skye, probably. Two sets of footsteps. Skye and Miles. And Grant will not let Miles see him cry.
There’s a gentle knock on the nursery door. Which is silly, really. It’s Skye’s home, her baby, and the door’s already ajar. He doesn’t know why she’d bother.
“Grant?” she says. “Can we come in?” She’s got such a gentle voice. Such a sweet, lovely voice, a soft, supple mouth and-
Grant clears his throat. “Come in.”
The door swings open. “There,” Skye says, her tone suddenly much harsher. Grant almost flinches. But she’s not talking to him. She’s talking to Miles. “There’s the infant you contributed DNA towards. Good job. You can leave, now.”
“Skye,” Miles says. “You said.”
She sighs. “Grant,” she says. “My piece of sh-” Tilts her head. “Crap ex-boyfriend is staying the night.”
Grant swallows. “Why? Did he force you to say that?” He gives Miles a withering glare. “Did you-”
“He didn’t,” Skye says. “It’s fine. I’m giving him a hard time. It’s what we do.”
“Oh,” Grant says.
“Miles is staying in the guest room,” Skye says.
But Grant stays in the guest room. Where’s he going to stay? On the couch? The floor of the nursery? Outside??? “I-”
“You’ll be in my room,” Skye says. “With me.”
There are- He can- There’s a response to this somewhere in his brain. Somewhere. It’s coming to him. Any minute now. Any-
“I’m sorry,” Miles says. “Were you guys not sharing a bed before?”
“Shut up,” Skye says.
And then. And THEN. Miles has the raw NERVE to give Grant a wink. “You’re welcome, dude.”
Skye gives Miles a swift elbow in the ribs. “Ignore him,” Skye says. “Everything he says is garbage, and he’s an idiot.”
Miles just laughs. Takes a step towards the crib. Grant steps back. Miles raises an eyebrow. “Um,” he says. “Can I hold Phillip?”
Grant looks at Skye. “Can he?”
“Just watch him,” Skye says. “In case Miles drops the baby, or something.”
Grant gasps in horror.
“Joking!” Skye says, waving her hands. “I’m joking, Grant. Mostly. 90%. It’s fine. Let him hold Phillip.”
Grant frowns the entire time, but does as Skye says. He slowly hands Phillip over to Miles.
And waits.
Phillip gurgles once.
“Damn it,” Skye says. “I was hoping he’d start shrieking.”
“Same,” Grant sighs.
“Thanks, assholes,” Miles says.
“Language!” they both say, louder than they meant to.
Phillip’s stirred by their voices. He slowly begins to awake. His big eyes open and blink, staring upward.
“Hi,” Miles offers. “I’m half the reason you’re on this earth.”
Phillip looks up at Miles, and makes a distressed sort of sound. Distress turns to gentle crying.
“Oh no,” Grant says, reaching for Phillip’s hair. Phillip grows quiet, now that he knows Grant’s nearby. “Oh, it’s okay, Phillip. It’s just your Daddy.”
“Ha,” Miles says. “I’m not his dad.”
“You better fu- You better be his dad,” Skye says. “I’m not letting some weirdo stranger hold my baby.”
“You know what I mean,” Miles says. “I’m not like, an actual Dad-dad. I’m a sperm donor.”
“Language,” Grant says, again.
“Sperm isn’t a dirty word,” Miles says.
“Skye,” Grant says. “He keeps saying it near the baby.”
“I’m sorry,” Miles says. “Is ‘semen’ better?”
“Skye,” Grant whines.
“You’re upsetting him,” Skye says. “Stop referencing your-” She gestures.
“It’s hard to come up with another term,” Miles protests.
“Baby goo,” Grant says.
Skye and Miles stare at him for a beat. “You’re twenty-six,” Skye says.
“You asked for another term!” Grant says.
“He’s right,” Miles says. “We did.” He’s looking down at Phillip, again. At Phillip’s soft, just-woken face. “You think he kind of looks like me?”
“No,” Skye says.
“A little,” Grant admits. “In the hair.”
“That is my hair,” Miles says. “Just wait until he gets old enough to hate haircuts.”
“Please tell me that wasn’t you,” Skye says.
“You know it was,” Miles says.
“God dam- Darn it,” Skye says.
“You’ve really broken that language habit,” he says. “I’m actually pretty impressed.”
“She’s an impressive woman,” Grant says. “The smartest woman in the world, probably.”
“Little high reaching,” Miles says. “She’s really just good with computers.”
Grant tightens his shoulders.
“Miles, he’s going to punch you,” Skye says.
“I’m holding a baby,” Miles says.
“Which is why I didn’t,” Grant says. “But I’ll think about it.”
“He’s hot aggressive,” Miles says. “Not gonna lie.”
Grant lets out a choked noise of protest.
Skye sighs. “Miles-”
“And for the record,” Miles says. “I was joking. Skye’s a genius. Which is why she let me leave.”
“Don’t start,” she says.
“Wasn’t,” Miles says. “Just making a statement.”
“I’m just gonna-” Grant lifts Phillip away from Miles’ arms. “Take the baby back.”
“Oh,” Miles says. “I wasn’t really-”
Grant ignores him. He lifts Phillip against his shoulder, where Phillip can happily suck on Grant’s shirt. “It’s his dinnertime,” Grant says.
“Oh, cool,” Miles says. “I’ll cook.”
“You can’t cook,” Skye says. “He’s a baby. He eats baby food.”
“I meant for the adults,” Miles says.
“That’s worse,” Skye says.
“Stop whining,” Miles says. “It’s mealtime.”
“For Phillip,” Skye says. “Not us. It’s like, five-thirty.”
“Well I’m hungry,” Miles says.
“So go make something,” Skye says.
Miles shrugs in response. “Okay,” he says, meandering out of the nursery.
A beat.
“Wait,” Skye says, turning on her heel. “Miles!” She’s out the door. “Do not make your vegan shit in my kitchen!”
Grant gently bounces Phillip on his shoulder. Furrows his brow in confusion. “Guys?” Grant says, listening to a slew of pans clanging from the kitchen. “Guys!”
Phillip laughs at the commotion. It’s the happiest, most musical sound.
“They’re silly,” Grant says. He’s feeling a hundred pounds lighter than he had coming in. “And you’re hungry, aren’t you? My little nugget.”
Phillip babbles a whole slew of thoughts as Grant carries him to the kitchen. Snoopy quickly follows behind.
Grant manages to get Phillip set up in his high chair before Skye and Miles even notice they’ve come in.
Skye is trying to pull Miles out of her fridge, and failing. “You’re not cooking,” Skye says. “I’m still breastfeeding. I can’t eat vegan.”
“That’s-” Miles shakes his head. “One, Phillip is like, eight months old, so I doubt you’re still breastfeeding regularly. And I’m not even going to address the second part.”
“Get out of my fridge,” Skye says.
“You’ve got all crap in here,” Miles says. “No soy milk, no vegetables, how much hot sauce-”
“Get out of my fridge!” Skye repeats, pulling at Miles’ shirt.
He doesn’t budge. “I’ll figure something out,” Miles says.
Grant decides it best to go get the baby food. “Peaches or carrots?” Grant ask.
“Peaches,” Skye says, without looking up.
Which is fine, because Miles said “Carrots,” at the exact same time. Naturally.
“Philli?” Grant asks. “What do you want?” He holds up the two brightly colored jars.
Phillip gestures towards peaches, so peaches it is.
“Good choice!” Grant says. “And what do you want for dinner, Snoopy?”
Snoopy barks. His tail beats against the ground from the speed of his wagging.
“Dog food is a good choice,” Grant says, unscrewing the jar lid. He spoons Phillip’s dinner into a yellow bowl. Picks the baby spoons that have dogs on the ends. Sets it aside for a moment, and fills a separate bowl of dog food.
“All set!” Grant says. “Everyone can eat now.”
Skye and Miles are still yelling at each other, but Phillip and Snoopy are more than happy. So Grant’s happy, too.
“Do you want to try feeding him?” Grant asks. They’re not really paying attention. “Miles. Do you want to try?”
A pause.
“Miles?”
“Yeah,” Miles says. “I’d like to try.”
“Okay,” Grant says. “Well come over here and feed him.”
Miles glances to Skye. “This isn’t over,” he says.
She gives an angry little huff.
“So,” Miles says. Approaches the high chair with more caution than Grant thought he’d have. “How do I-”
Someone has kicked the front door open.
Without meaning to, Grant leaps in front of Phillip’s high chair.
He looks to Skye. “Who-”
“You!” Phil Coulson yells, standing in the kitchen doorway. His arms are full of groceries, and he’s a rather interesting shade of pink. “You come to my house-”
“Finally,” Skye says. “Took you long enough.”
“You texted Coulson that I was over?” Miles says. “Not cool.”
“If you try to take my baby grandson away,” Coulson says, storming through the kitchen. He hands off the groceries to Grant. Stands right up to Miles, and jabs a finger in his chest. “I will make sure you rot in an Alaskan prison, you terrible, no-good, low-life, deadbeat son of a-”
“Language,” Skye says.
“You dirty freeloader!” Coulson says. “Coming in here like you own the place. Well let me tell you, mister-”
“So, hey Phil,” Miles says, gently taking Coulson’s wrist. Lowers his arm, which makes Coulson ever redder. “Good to see you too. How’s work?”
“I’ll taze you,” Coulson says. “I’ll do it right now. Sweetie, get me the taser I keep under the sink.”
“There’s a taser under the sink?” Grant says.
“Safety first!” Coulson insists.
“Okay but what if the person breaking in gets to the taser first?” Miles says. “And tazes Skye?”
“You!” Coulson yells, in a rage. “You are so-”
“Who would taze Skye?” Grant says. “Why would anyone do that?”
“I’m just saying,” Miles says. “It’s unwise to have a weapon in the house. Especially one with an infant.”
“Oh, shut up,” Skye says. “Stop trying to give Coulson a heart attack.”
“But it’s so easy,” Miles says.
“I hate you,” Coulson says. “You’ll be on every no-fly list in the country, every watch list, I swear to you-”
“If I’m on a no-fly list,” Miles says. “How am I going to leave?”
Coulson lets out a noise that’s equal parts frustration and unbridled hatred. Grant didn’t even know the man could be so spiteful.
“Grant,” Coulson says, still glaring at Miles. “Please put the groceries on the table.”
“Sure,” Grant says. “Of course. What’s in here, anyway?”
“I’m making dinner!” Coulson says. “Skye says you had nothing to eat.”
Skye flashes the most brilliantly innocent smile Grant’s ever seen. “It’s true!” she says. “And I thought we could all eat together. As a family.”
Miles sucks on his teeth for a moment, before grinning. “Sure, sure,” Miles says. “You know I can’t like, eat meat though ? I haven’t in a really long time and it’ll make me sick.”
Coulson shrugs. “I guess you can have some buttered noodles, then,” he says, with as much contempt as Grant thinks the man can manage. “I’ll set it aside for you.”
“Thanks, man,” Miles says. “Always looking out for me.”
Coulson mutters something terrible under his breath, and gets to sorting the groceries. “I know you’re not going to let him feed my grandbaby,” he says. Which is pretty impressive, given that he’s turned his back to Grant and Miles. And that Miles hasn’t even taken the baby spoon from Grant yet.
“Let him try,” Skye says. “C’mon. It’s harmless.”
“That’s what you said when you started dating him!” Coulson says.
Skye bristles. “You love Phillip!”
“Oh sweetie,” Coulson says. The pile of food beside him is growing ever-larger. How did he fit all of that into a grocery bag? And how many people is he planning to cook for? Ten? Twenty? “Phillip is his only saving grace. I’ll never be mad about that.”
“Right here,” Miles says.
Phil ignores him. “He broke your heart, princess,” he says. “Left you all alone, pregnant in the big city-”
“Didn’t know she was pregnant,” Miles says.
“And it hurt you so bad, sweetie,” Coulson says. “That’s why I hate him.”
“Can we not do this right now?” Skye says.
A chiding noise from Coulson. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry. He just makes me so mad.”
“Still here,” Miles says.
Grant’s trying not to laugh. It’s terrible. It’s terrible, because they’re talking about Skye getting her heart broken. And that makes him furious. It does! But this whole thing is so... silly. And Skye keeps looking at him and smirking, like she’s barely holding back laughter herself.
“So,” Skye says. Meets Grant’s gaze. “Dinner?”
“Yes, please,” he says.
She grins. It feels filthy, and he’s not entirely sure why.
--
Dinner is an ordeal. Not a bad one, but a dramatic one. Coulson threatens Miles no less than twelve times. By the twelfth time, Miles doesn’t even bother acknowledging it.
Which, naturally, drives Coulson wild.
Grant can’t actually remember the last time he’s laughed so much. Skye’s funny, and they laugh a lot, but not like this, in the way that splits his sides and makes it hard to breathe.
Miles, as it turns out, is hilarious.
Grant only resents him slightly for it.
And every time Grant laughs, Phillip laughs. And Snoopy barks and wags his tail. And then Grant feeds him spaghetti under the table.
Skye will reach over and squeeze Grant’s knee, once in a while.
It feels really good. Right.
It feels like home.
--
He loses track of the night. At some point, long after Coulson’s left and Phillip’s asleep, the three of them disperse from the kitchen.
He almost forgot. Which is... weird. Because it’s everything he wants, literally everything, but he’d gotten caught up.
And suddenly, Miles is closing the door to Grant’s room, grinning like a cat. “Have fun, you two,” he says.
Grant forgets to feel indignant.
“Jackass,” Skye says, under her breath. And she’s pulling him towards her room. “You got your toothbrush, right?” she asks.
He checks his hand. “Yes,” he says. He can barely remember grabbing it. He just remembers Skye’s arms around his waist, her breath on his neck and-
“Well,” she says, interrupting his thoughts. “Come on. It’s bedtime.”
He brushes his teeth. Changes into his pajamas. Stares at his own reflection. It’s Skye’s mirror. It’s Skye’s bathroom. Her bedroom. Her bed.
He checks his hair. Maybe he should brush his teeth another time, just to be safe.
“Grant?” Skye asks. Standing behind the bathroom door. “You alright?”
“Yeah I’m-” He sighs. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the couch?”
“Can I open the door?” she says.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m just brushing my teeth.” He turns on the taps again as she opens the door.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning against the door frame.
He scrubs his teeth again. Which, if anything, keeps him from having to respond.
“Grant,” she says.
He spits. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “I just- We-”
She pads across the tile floor. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” he lies. “No, why would I be?”
She gives him a look. “Because I know you.”
He rinses out his mouth. “Oh.”
“Do you want to sleep on the couch?” Skye says. “Because if you do, I’ll kick Miles out of the guest room, and you can have your bed back.”
“I-” He pauses. “I want this,” he says. “I want this so bad.”
She traces her hand along his jaw. Tilts his head towards hers. Stands on the tips of her toes and kisses him, gently. “Then what’s wrong?”
“Me,” he says. “If I mess up-”
“Mess up what?” Skye says. “Sharing a bed?”
“No,” Grant says. “Yes. The bed. You. Us.”
“Us,” she says. “I like the idea of an us.” She kisses him again. More urgently this time. Scrapes her teeth against his lower lip.
He wraps his arm around her lower back. “You do?”
“Yeah,” she says. “Don’t you?”
“I do,” he says.
“Don’t you want me?” she asks, kissing his jaw. Her hand slides under his shirt. She scrapes her nails under his navel. “I want you.”
He’s going to faint. “I want you,” he says. “But- It’s more than that. I want a family. I want all of it. With you.”
She giggles. Without warning, she snaps the top of his underwear.
He whimpers. “Skye-”
“Don’t you want to make Phillip a little brother?” Skye asks. “Or a little sister?”
He whines in the back of his throat. She’s teasing him. Getting him worked up.
And it’s working. It’s working really well.
“Sorry,” she says. “Was that too weird? Because like, I’m not actually ready to have another baby but I thought it was cute-”
He presses his lips to her. Kisses her hard enough that their teeth knock.
When they pull away, he’s gasping for air. “Let’s make a fucking baby,” he says.
She pauses.
He pauses.
“Holy fuck,” Skye says. “You’re so hot.”
Well. That’s probably the only time he’s ever going to manage that in this lifetime. “A metaphorical baby,” Grant says. “To clarify.”
She laughs. “Thank you,” she says. “I appreciate it.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says, softly. He wonders where his bravado went. Actually, he wonders where it came from. He has no idea. “I can’t mess this up.”
“Well,” Skye says, tugging on his ear. “Given the last guy, I think the bar’s already pretty low.”
“He’s not so bad,” Grant says.
“No,” she says. “But he’s no you.”
A beat.
He raises his eyebrows.
“Sorry,” Skye says. “I was really expecting him to barge in, like, right then. That’s been our luck.”
“It has been, actually,” Grant says. “Weird.”
“But,” Skye says. Wraps her arms around Grant’s neck. “He’s sleeping.”
“What about Phillip?” Grant says. “What if he wakes up?”
“He doesn’t wake up until around two,” Skye says. “Plenty of time.”
Grant kisses her forehead. “You sure?”
She grins. “Lift me?” she says.
He nods, and she jumps. Wraps her legs around his waist. He grabs her ass. Oh. Oh, wow. This is happening.
“I’m positive,” she says. “You sure?”
“One hundred and ten percent,” he says.
She leans forward. “Good,” she whispers. Nips at his ear.
He shivers. “Oh, God,” he says.
“Oh God is right,” she says, tugging at his hair.
He carries her to bed.