misformarch

and the wounds don’t fade because you tell them they’re not real

a/n: Jemma struggles with the aftermath of the LMD attack and Daisy holds her through it. This deals with a situation resembling domestic violence and the emotional trauma resulting from it so, be cautious for triggers. 

~1200 words

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Finding Fitz is not the hard part. Getting him back is not even the hard part. All it takes is a little kidnapping, a smidgen of grand theft auto, and a thousand miles of frustrating conversations before the boy they know is blinking foggily through the layers of the framework at them once more.

It turns out the hard part is going to be everything that comes after.

They’re in a van because of course they are. Daisy even has a hula girl on the dash. With the back seat folded down, there’s just enough room for all three of them to sleep, all crammed together with barely space to breathe. Daisy’s almost asleep, squashed up against the side of the van with her arm flung over Jemma’s middle because there’s nowhere else for it to go, so she notices when Jemma pulls herself free of the heap. There’s the sound of the car door and Fitz stirs and mumbles something incoherent as the whole rickety vehicle sways when it slams.

Daisy takes advantage of the sudden space to stretch her stiffening muscles and rolls to stare at the ceiling, forcing herself to stay awake until she knows Jemma is safely back inside. But when she’s counted a hundred and eighty seconds and Jemma’s still not back a coil of anxiety tightens in her stomach.

She hasn’t gone far though. Daisy almost falls on top of her when she pushes open the passenger door. She’s curled up against the front wheel, and even though she does a hasty scrub job as Daisy clambers gracelessly from the cab, the tear tracks stand out pretty clearly on her grimy cheeks.

Daisy drops to her knees next to Jemma, feeling the bite of gravel through the holes in her jeans and not particularly caring. Jemma tries for a minute to school her features into a passive mask, face turned up to the star-strewn sky, but the effort collapses almost at once. She gives a soundless gasp and crumples inward and Daisy catches her up, holding on tight.

Mushroom Soup

Summary: Hunter wants to spend time with his girlfriend and best friend, so he decides to make dinner. Takes place in-between seasons 2 and 3.

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Hunter sat next to Bobbi in the lab, watching as she worked. He could see Fitz out of the corner of his eye. The man was scowling at a computer screen and muttering to himself. Hunter noticed that Fitz was wearing the same clothes he’d been in yesterday and the day before. “Fitz isn’t doing well,” he muttered to Bobbi.

“He’s obsessing over that damn rock,” she murmured back. “The only time he stops is when Coulson orders him to work on an assignment.” She closed out of the computer program she’d been working on and stretched her arms above her head. “I’m done for the day,” she announced. “If I stare at that screen any longer, my brain’s going to turn to mush.”

Hunter pressed a brief kiss to her lips. “Go do your leg exercises,” he told her. “I’ll get the soup started.”

“Mushroom soup?” Bobbi asked, looking hopefully at him.

He nodded. “Yep.” She kissed him again, a bit more forcefully this time, and limped out of the lab. Hunter went over to Fitz and put a hand on his shoulder before immediately removing it after the man flinched and pulled away. “Mate, I need your help with something.”

“Can it wait?” Fitz asked. “I’m right in the middle of something.”

Hunter looked at the screen, and saw an encyclopedia page about Yucatán. Fitz was working on the rock, not a SHIELD mission. “No, I need your help now.”

Fitz sighed, but closed out of the program. “Fine,” he muttered.

“Great! Thanks, mate!” Hunter led Fitz into the kitchen. “Get out a big pot and fill it about three-fourths with water and then set it to boil,” he ordered while he went to dig through the pantry for the porcini mushrooms he’d stashed in the back a while ago.

“What are you doing?” Fitz asked, not moving, arms crossed.

“Making soup,” Hunter answered. He found his mushrooms and held them up. “Mushroom soup! It’s my specialty. The secret is dried porcinis. Are you going to boil the water for me or not?”

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Things you said when I was scared

a/n: The bus kids missing May, post 4x12. 

~1000 words

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Daisy’s not sure what she expects to find when she slides into May’s deserted bunk. Maybe gears and circuit boards littering the floor or a can of oil with a bendy straw left on the nightstand. Something to prove an imposter had infiltrated this space. Or maybe she came in search of soft hand lotions and clothing half out of its drawers, signs of humanity the real May left behind.

Proof of a difference Daisy should have noticed.

Either way she’s disappointed. May’s bunk is exactly how Daisy remembers it the few times she’s been allowed (dared) to set foot in here. Bedding pulled tight enough to bounce a quarter off, personal effects neatly aligned on the dresser, leather jacket flung over the back of the desk chair. Even her tai chi mat peaks out from under the bed as if it’s been recently used.

Daisy shoves the mat out of sight, the thought of robo-May touching it making her cringe. She’s not sure what to do next though. Not sure what she was trying to accomplish by breaking in.

A thump from the closet just about puts her heart in her mouth and as she spins a tremor slams the door shut. There’s a yelp that she recognizes and Daisy’s fight stance drops tiredly as Jemma pushes her way free of the closet.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

Who Lives in a Pineapple Under the Sea?

Summary: Takes place post 1x20 while they’re staying at the motel. The Bus Kids watch Spongebob and try to escape their reality for a little while. Inspired by AOSFicNet’s weekly prompt of pineapple. Rated T for swearing.

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The motel they’re at is pretty nice as far as motel rooms go. There are beds with clean-looking sheets, free wifi, and a television with more than basic cable. Skye has definitely stayed in worse places, that’s for sure. Plus here, she has her friends. Before, she only had herself. So even though her almost boyfriend turned out to be Hydra and betrayed the team, even though he kidnapped her, even though she’s been through more horrible shit in the past few months than her entire 25 years of life put together, it’s not that bad. Because she has Fitz and Simmons and Coulson and Triplett and maybe May, if she comes back. Skye doesn’t expect her to. Once people leave, they leave for good in her experience. 

Skye, Fitz, and Simmons are in their hotel room, cuddled together on the same bed with a pile of vending machine snacks in front of them. Fitz has the remote and is flipping through the channels. He stops on some kind of nature documentary and Skye groans. “No! Nothing where I have to think!”

“If that’s your criterion, we should just turn the telly off,” he says, and Skye throws a pretzel at him.

He continues going through the channels when Skye spots a familiar cartoon. “Oh, stop! Go back! It’s Spongebob!”

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Allowed to Be Angry

Summary: Fitz needs to process after his confrontation with Ward. Mack tries to help. Takes place during episode 2x03.

Warning: explicit language/swearing, including the ‘c’ word

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“How do you know this?”

“I spoke to Ward,” Fitz admitted, holding his breath as he waited for Coulson’s response.

“We’ll talk about that when I get home. Nice work, Fitz.” Coulson ended the call and Fitz blew out the breath he’d been holding, before taking a couple deep breaths just to reassure himself that he still could. He turned away from the screen and absently flapped his bad hand as he paced around.

“You okay?” Mack asked. Fitz glanced at him and noticed that his eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

“Ward,” Fitz said. “It was him—the asset. I knew they were keepin’ things from me. I knew—I knew it was him. I knew it. Sim—I thought I was paranoid, but—it’s not—it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, right?” Fitz laughed. A humorless, hysterical laugh.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Mack suggested, standing up. “Take a couple deep breaths; try to stop thinking about him.” He walked back toward the common room, and Fitz followed after him.

“I thought about it,” Fitz told him, once they were sitting on the couch. “About—erm—about—about—words—what I wanted to—to speak to him, if I ever…” Fitz trailed off, fingers coming up to tug at his lip.

“If you ever got the chance?” Mack finished.

Fitz nodded. “It didn’t go like I planned in my head. But I did get to show him what he did—the—the—the results of what he did when he dropped us.” Fitz snorted. “He said he wanted to—to save us, give us a—a—a fighting chance. Bollocks! Garrett told him to kill us, so he did. Well, he tried.”

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