Excused Absences

“Why is it,” the sing-song voice spoke from his doorway, “that every time I see little Melinda that she is more banged up than the last time?”

The sing-song voice dropped into something serious, “The cast and the split lip makes her the perfect image for a domestic violence poster and that’s not sitting well with me.”

“Because,” Fury said slowly, eying Maria’s pseudo-relaxed stance against the doorframe like he wouldn’t know that she used the same stance in interrogation. He knew that she wanted answers, that she felt protective over May. S.H.I.E.L.D. always protected their own. “We are idiots.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. Us.”

“How so?” She asked, coming into the room and dropping all of her pretenses that she wasn’t fishing for answers.

“The fight in the hallway,” Nick sighed. “She broke her wrist and neither of us noticed.”

“How is that a ‘we’ thing?” Maria asked. “You didn’t notice.”

“Didn’t you think it was odd that Coulson strolled into the teachers’ lounge for ice?”

That got her.

Maria’s smirk disappeared and her eyes widened before she winced with the realization that she was duped, “He said that it was for drinks. Coulson lied to me.”

“Yeah.”

“Coulson. Lied. To. Me?” She said incredulous. “And I believed him?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?” She asked in disbelief.

“Yes, and thanks again for the Intel on where May was all day yesterday.”

“I thought that I’d give her some space,” Maria defended, putting her hands up to Nick’s annoyed glare. He did, after all, spend the entire day strolling around the building looking for his new charge. “And she was across the hall with Coulson, who you wanted her to talk to. How’d you find out about her wrist?”

“Coulson.”

“Coulson?” Maria repeated. “Coulson figured that out before two international spies? We’re losing out touch, Nick, and we’re not repeating this to anyone, ever.”

“I’m not hacking,” She insisted. Her back pressed against the wall with her legs stretched out in front of her as her fingers flew over the computer keys. “Stop giving me that look, Ward. I know you are, I don’t even need to look up to know so, stop!”

“He is giving you the look,” Jemma confirmed, eyes still on her textbook.

“He so is,” Fitz agreed, also not looking up.

“So, what is it?” Ward asked. “Fish sticks on Thursday or pudding on Friday?”

“It’s Facebook,” She said, flipping her laptop hazardously in his direction so he could see the blue hue of the Facebook logo and her half-finished status.

“That’s Coulson’s Facebook.”

“What are you going to do, tell on me?” She asked sarcastically. “Who even uses Facebook anymore other than Coulson? He deserves this.”

“Hey guys,” Phil said as he sat his packed lunch down on the table next to Daisy’s outstretched feet.

“Hello Coulson,” They all droned. Neither Fitz nor Simmons bothered to take their eyes off the books in front of them. Daisy kept her eyes on Ward, daring him to tell Coulson that she very easily hacked into his Facebook again, raising an eyebrow at him that promised something embarrassing if he did.

“Hey Coulson, Daisy-“

“Shut up!” She exclaimed, laughing as she threw a grape at him. She swore when he caught it and ate it with a cocky smirk, “You’re not as smooth as you think you are.”

“Oh, I most definitely am.”

“I don’t even what to know what this is about,” Phil said, shaking his head. “And I don’t think I want to.”  

“Where were you yesterday?” Jemma asked, closing her anatomy textbook and placing it on the bench between her and Ward. “Surely, your dentist appointment didn’t take that long.”

“Oh, um, I got distracted,” Phil replied just as distracted now. His eyes roamed over the four corners of the cafeteria, over everything and anything in between them, never settling on anything for too long.

“Distracted enough to miss Taco Tuesday?” Daisy asked. “Thor and Clint had a taco eating contest.”

“That’s… interesting,” Coulson responded, nodding along but not sounding the slightest bit interested. His eyes still roamed the cafeteria, ping-ponging around the room at a dizzying pace and yet he still missed the strange look that Daisy gave him.

“Oh yeah,” She smiled. “It was totes cool. The tacos melted Clint’s mind and turned Thor into an actual god.”

“Very cool.”

“Yeah, and I’m pregnant with Ward’s baby,” She added.

“That’s great.”

“You’re not even listening to me,” She paused, rolling her eyes. “See, you didn’t even respond to that!”

“I’m sorry, what?’ Phil asked.

“Barton’s at his table,” She supplied. “If that’s who you’re looking-“

“Oh, there!”

“Wha-”

Coulson was gone before she even finished she one worded question, dashing across the cafeteria. He ignored the shouts to stop running from one of the lunch ladies and almost knocked the overfilled tray of overcooked hamburgers out of Logan’s hands.

“What’s gotten into him?”

“Who knows,” Ward said, eyes following the running teen. Coulson skidded to a stop in front of a girl with black hair, smiling wide. “That’s the new girl.”

Fitz supplied, “The Cavalry.”

“More like Coulson’s new pet project,” Daisy interjected. “Look how friendly he’s being.”

“Coulson is always friendly,” Simmons commented. “And don’t refer to people as projects, it’s dehumanizing. Her name is Melinda… I think.”

“Well, she is one of Fury’s kids so, you know, she’s got to be a little,” Fitz gestured to his head, spinning his finger around in a circle at is temple.

“She’s not crazy,” Simmons argued. “You don’t even know her, guys. Be nice.”

“What’s Coulson doing with her anyways?” Ward asked. “When would he have met her? She wasn’t in English yesterday.”

“She’s probably what distracted him,” Daisy suggested, watching as Coulson spoke with wild hand gestures and pointing back to their table. The new girl’s eyes followed his gesture over to them, causing them all to look away quickly.

“I get why she distracted him,” Fitz said and then when everybody looked at him. “What? She’s pretty!”

“Pretty scary, did you hear wha-“

“Guys,” Coulson cut in.

When they looked to the end of the table, Coulson was standing there with a proud smile on his face. The new girl was a step or two behind him, holding her textbooks close to her chest in a white knuckled grip that kind of implied that she didn’t really want to be there.

“This is May,” He stated proudly before pushing Daisy’s feet off the bench for he to sit down. “I asked her to eat lunch with us.”

“Hello May,” They droned in much the same way that they did to Coulson.

“The name is Daisy,” Daisy introduced since Coulson seemed to think grinning like an idiot was more important than introductions. “That’s Fitzsimmons.”

“I’m Fitz,” Fitz spoke up, looking up from his notebook. “That’s Simmons.”

“Jenna,” Simmons added with a smile. “And this is Ward.”

“We’ve met.”

“Have we?” May asked.

“You kicked my friend in the face,” Ward responded. His voice was neither angry nor calm, almost accusingly with a certain level of respect. Coulson sent Ward a warning glare, making a small gesture with his head to play nice so Ward added, “Pretty sweet moves you got.”

“Thanks.”

“Fitz, you’re quiet,” Phil noted.

“He’s upset,” Jemma supplied, pulling the seal off her fruit cup.

“I’m not upset,” He glared back at her, eyes softening with no real wrath in them. “Stark won’t let me help with his robot project in science club. Apparently my ‘Scottishness’ is distracting.”

“Well-“

“He said I’d be a baby with a blowtorch and he wasn’t babysitter,” Fitz complained, bordering on outright whining. He dropped his voice into an American accent, “A Scottish baby with a blowtorch.”

“Tony is a jerk,” Jemma cut in, rubbing her hand across Fitz’s back in a comforting motion. “You know that. He only does it because he knows that he’ll get a reaction out of you.”

“Why would you want to help him anyways?” Daisy asked, tossing grapes in the air and catching them in her mouth, or more often than not bouncing them off her chin and letting them roll across the table.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He replied sarcastically. “Because it’s awesome.”

“Yeah, but Tony walked around with one eyebrow for a month because of one of his projects,” Phil interjected. “Do you want to be missing an eyebrow?”

“It’s so cool though,” Fitz protected, his Scottish accent thicker. “If Stark would stop being such a jerk.”

Ward clapped his shoulder, “It’s never going to happen, man.”

“May, you can fight,” Fitz said. “Can you beat him up for me?”

“Sure,” She replied with a shrug. The entire table went quiet and all their eyes turned to her in some varying degree of question. “That was a joke.”

“Oh,” Phil said after a second. “Good. Yeah, uh, no beating up anyone until your arm is healed. That goes for all of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Ward said with a mock salute. “No beating anyone up until May’s arm is healed.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” He replied. “And that’s the wrong hand.”

“Yes, Dad,” Daisy rolled her eyes. “We get it. Violence, bad.”

“Good.”

“Oh, it’s good now?”

“No, that’s – I was saying, we’re just not going to hit anyone anymore, okay?”

Daisy laughed, leaning over Coulson to tell May that Phil acted like everyone’s dad and it was best to just go along with it. He might even break out his ‘I’m-very-disappointed-in-you’ stare – Oh, look! There it is.

That was how lunch continued, with Fitz scribbling and Tony bashing, and Coulson complaining that Daisy posted ‘I like Cap’s butt and I cannot lie’  on his Facebook and his mom liked the post. Coulson tried his hardest to pull May into the conversation but not really having much to say or wanting to say much anyways, made it awkward.

It made her too much of the center of attention and that made her uncomfortable.

“Hey-“ was all that had the opportunity to be said before she was out of her seat. The hand that had landed on May’s shoulder was twisted behind the owner’s back as she slammed their face into the tabletop. “Jesus Christ.”

She let go immediately, backing up.

“Clint?” Phil asked. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah.” He picked himself up off the table, shaking out his arm before dabbing at his nose with his fingers to see if there was blood. He shrugged when there wasn’t, “All good.”

“Clint?” Natasha asked, running over to their table.

“I’m fine.”

May could feel, actually feel each and every eye in the cafeteria on her like the light of a thousand suns, making her feel hot and dizzy. She couldn’t hear the silence that she knew befell the crowded room over the pounding of her heart in her ears and the feeling that she was going to vibrate out of her skin.

She crossed her arms across her middle, hunching her shoulders in and trying to make herself smaller, unnoticeable. It wasn’t working. It never fucking worked anymore.

“May, are you-“

She didn’t even notice that anyone had moved – she should have noticed, she should have – until Phil placed his hand gently on her own. She jumped and he let go, taking a step back.

Her eyes found his and there was no anger, no fear, no cautious curiosity that was always in people’s eyes when they looked at her nowadays – even Natasha was weary around her. There was just concern, just genuine open concern in kind blue eyes that she could get lost in if she ever had the time.

“May, I need you to let go,” Phil said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the roaring in her ears. Moving slowly and keeping his hands in her line of sight, like she was some sort of skittish animal.

She opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about. She didn’t know what she was holding onto. Even her grip on reality was shaky at the moment. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

She wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream at people for touching her when she never gave them any damn permission. She wanted to yell about injustice and parents, and fear. She wanted to hit something, hit anything but not Phil Coulson standing in front of her. She wanted to strike out hard at something solid until her hands were bloody and broken, but none of that happened either.

“Your arm,” He explained when she didn’t move. “You’re hurting yourself, let go. Please?”

She followed the brief flicker of his eyes, still so concerned, down to where her black painted fingernails were digging into the flesh of her left arm. Little crescent half moons gave way to small bubbles of bright red blood to clot and dry right above her elbow. She wondered how much of her blood could be spilled before it was too much.

“I have to go,” May said suddenly, eyes darting around the room quickly. There were too many people and not enough exists.

There was no gun pressed against her hip or knife in her boots, there was no backup plan, or intel, or debriefing. There was no telling who was dangerous and who was not, and there were not enough exits.

She came in unprepared, woefully so – they said to be prepared, expect the worse, always have a back-up plan and always have a knife – and she was so very unprepared and weaponless, and she couldn’t breathe.

“What?” Phil asked, slightly hysterical or was that her? “Why? It’s not – he’s fine. Clint, you’re fine.”

“I’m fine!” Someone – Clint said slightly too loud, slightly too defensive, off to her right.

She flinched.

“No one got hurt,” Coulson’s concerned voice told her. “It’s fine.”

Nothing was fine.

“I…” She trailed off, her eyes darting around the cafeteria before resting on Coulson’s soft eyes. “I need to call my mo- I need, I need to go. Sorry.”

With that, she darted off. People pushed themselves out of the way as she barreled out of the room. If she noticed than she didn’t show it but Phil did notice and glared at every single one of them.

The room exploded into harsh whispers the moment she stepped out of view.

“That was actually a really cool move,” Clint commented, trying and failing to lighten the mood as he rotated his shoulder. “Archery practice is going to be a bitch though.”

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Natasha snapped to some onlookers, causing them to remove their gaze for fear of her wrath.

“I already did,” Tony said swaggering up to the table.

Bruce asked Clint, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He demonstrated the fact by waving his arm over his head before he gathered up May’s textbooks and pushed his way past Tony on the way out of the room. “All fine. I’ll take her books to Fury.”

Natasha walked quietly after him.

Tony shrugged, made some comment about not wanting to catch Fitz’s Scottishness before walking back to his table. Bruce offered an eye roll and an apology for Tony being Tony before following him.

“What was up with her?” Ward asked.

“She’s –“ Coulson began but then paused because he didn’t even really know. “She’s been through a lot.”

“Are you sure that it’s safe to be around her?” Simmons asked quietly. “What if she hurts you? You’ve seen what she did to Garrett and he’s bigger than you.”

“It’s – she’s not going to hurt me!”

“How do you know?” Daisy asked. “It’s not like you know anything about her.”

He accused, “Neither do you.”

“Well, that was a pretty good demonstration she did there,” She responded. “I’m using that as evidence. Exhibit A: your girlfriend is dangerous.”

“She was just scared.”

“Most people don’t attack people when they’re scared.”

“She didn’t attack him! He wasn’t hurt. She was just defending herself.”

“Just… be careful, Phil.”

“May, how was your day?”

“Oh thanks, Nick,” Clint said sarcastically as he tossed his bow down onto the kitchen table. “My day was just dandy, thanks for asking. You know, you were wayyyyyy less obvious about like Tasha more.”

“Shut up, Barton,” Natasha snorted, her ballerina slippers in her hand. “You talk all the time. If no one asked, you would have told us anyways.”

“You… shut up,” Clint responded lamely.

“I know how your day went,” Nick said, eyeing him. “You’re grounded.”

“What? Why?” Clint whined and then his eyes widened a fraction in realization of what Nick must have been talking about. “I was only helping Tony.”

“You threw yourself off the roof.”

“You did?” Natasha asked, her eyes going wide before punching him in the shoulder. “And why wasn’t I there? I could have pushed you!”

“He was supposed to catch me,” Clint muttered, rubbing his arm.

“And he didn’t.”

“Booster malfunction,” Clint explained to Natasha’s gaze. “And it was fine, Nick! I knew that tree was there.”

“Still grounded.”

“I used to walk across tightropes without safety nets,” Clint whined. “That was nothing!”

“Grounded.”

“Fine,” Clint huffed. “Then I’ll just stay here and hang out with you all day, I guess. What are your feelings on the new Batman comics, Nick? Huh? You like ‘em? I like them. Do you? Huh? Nick?”

“Shut up,” Natasha said, punching him in the shoulder again. “Annoying him has literally never worked on getting you ungrounded. What’s he grounded from?”

Nick said after a moment, “TV.”

“But the new Law and Order!”

“You should have thought about that before you jumped off a building.”

“But-“

“No, Clint, shut up, I actually want to know,” Natasha stated, turning to May with a smile. “May, how was your first official day of classes? Did you like Sitwell?”

They were all dancing around the topic of her freak out at lunch and that she spent sixth period sitting under the desk in Mrs. Hand’s office waiting for her hands to stop shaking. Victoria had played soft jazz music and asked no questions to which May was thankful.

May shrugged her shoulders, cocking her head to the side with her lips pressed together. Indifference oppose to just ignoring the question which was an improvement from when they first met in Natasha’s mind.

“That’s not a yes,” Clint blurted out when Natasha grinned. “You didn’t win.”

“It’s not a no either,” Natasha pointed out.

“Stop making bets on May’s preferences,” Nick stated from where he was washing the dishes from yesterday’s dinner, May next to him with a towel ready to dry.

“Yes, Nick,” they said in union, rolling their eyes.

May smiled.

She didn’t quite know what to think of those two.

She’d never met anyone like them.

Natasha was suspicious of her, that much was obvious. She was strong and spoke like she had seen a few things; May thought that maybe she would too if she would speak more.

Natasha was in complete control of her body. May envied her control every time she found herself in in Hand’s office trying to even out her breathing or woke up in a cold sweat trying to slow her heart beat. She was a know-it-all who did actually know it all, and sneaky; May found that she liked that.

And Clint, Clint was funny and he carried a bow which was cool. He talked a lot, all of the time actually, but May kind of like that too because it made it easier to not think about the things that lurked in the back of her mind. He was smarter than he acted and he smiled too much, laughed too loud to be truly happy. And when he didn’t think anyone was looking, he was unbelievably sad.

Together, though, because that was what they were; together, always and forever.

Teammates, partners, or best friends, whatever they called themselves, they belonged that way. Clint made Natasha loosen up and she made his sadness less palpable. People should have people like that in their lives.

They were not bad people, she thought, they had seen a lot – experience clung to their skin like a second layer – far too many things for people so young, but then again so had she. So maybe it was fitting that they all ended up here, under the roof of a damaged secret agent, all of them just trying to make it to the next and maybe enjoying the current one a bit.

“Just wait, though,” Clint said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You won’t like Sitwell. No one does. There’s something weird about him, and not just the way he teachers.”

“I like Sitwell,” Natasha stated.

“Yeah, and you’re weird, May’s not weird. Okay, well, we’re all a bit weird, but you’re the weirdest.”

“Nick does, too. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Nick replied, not even sparing them a glance as if they’re had their conversation a hundred times. It occurred to May for the first time that they probably have.

“Nick’s weird too.”

Nick did look at that, giving Clint a leering glare with a raised eyebrow.

Clint just grinned, “Isn’t that right, Agent Pleakly?”

May nearly dropped the glass she was holding. “Agent?”

“He’s trying to make a joke,” Natasha replied slowly, picking up on the tension that returned to May’s shoulder but not quite knowing why.

“Are you telling me you’ve never seen Lilo & Stitch?” Clint exclaimed. “Why? How? Did you live in a cave or something?”

“Sometimes,” May said, as she turned to place the now dry cup in the cupboard, so quietly that Nick barely heard it. But he didn’t miss the slight trimmer in her hand.

“Clint.”

“Yeah?”

“Get your bow off the table.”

Clint rolled his eyes and with a long suffering sigh grabbed the bow and clomped with bulky boots out of the room.

Natasha followed.

“Do they–”

“They don’t know,” Nick responded quickly, using the same soft tone that May had adopted. “I’m sure they have an idea but I never told them. I’d prefer that they didn’t know.”

“I read the file on Natalia Romanova, KGB, Red Room,” May said, her eyes down-casted. “Is that her?”

“Yes.”

May just nodded and put another cup in the cupboard. “And Clint?”

“C.I.A.”

“Oh.”

“How did you get ahold of Natasha’s file?” Nick asked accusingly, because he had Natasha’s file, and Clint’s, and May’s. They were all tucked away in the back of a hidden safe that he was sure they all knew about and had been unsuccessful at breaking into it.

“There are flaws in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s security system.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ve been to the Triskelion,” May stated looking at Nick with a small proud smile. “Nice vents, Clint would like it.”

He smiled back at her.

He had said she was clever, right?