𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒, agents of shield

[12] brain sandwhich?

Simmons and I were doing a work up on Coulson, which I need to take a note of mentally because I found it quite suspicious. I look up from my workbench while analysing some results, he seems physically fit as I watch him on the treadmill.

"Working up a good sweat there, sir," I overhear Simmons commenting.

"I don't sweat, I glisten." Coulson combats.

I walk over towards them holding a tablet in my hand.

"Blood pressure, heart rate, biochems, all normal.," I happily announce, passing the tablet to Simmons to overlook the results.

"Indeed, all that's left is the blood sample," Simmons adds, reassuring my findings.

"You should know, I'm not a fan of getting poked," he says as he stops the treadmill and gets off.

"Tell me, sir, have you been feeling under the weather lately?" Simmons routinely questions.

"Why?" Coulson asks.

"I just noticed from your chart that you're not due for a general physical for another three months," Jemma curiously picks up.

"I made a mistake, took a call from my physical therapist. Asked how I was feeling, I said "a little rusty". Next thing you know I'm wired to this hamster wheel," Coulson excuses.

"Well, you can officially tell your physical therapist that you're fit as the proverbial fiddle, especially for a man of your age," Simmons uses a throwaway line, resulting in a confused face from Coulson.

"A man of my age? That's something you say to an old person," Coulson responds, slightly offended.

"Is it?" Jemma smiles awkwardly, alongside a nervous chuckle. "Well, let's get you some electrolytes, shall we?"

Coulson looks to me while I try and avoid the question I believe he's going to ask.

"You don't think I'm old, do you?"

"Not a day over 30, sir"

He then turns and walks away and we both make a relieved smile behind his back, laughing and giggling looking at one another.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Hey Elle, can you check out this gun?" I hear from a distance inside the lab.

"Absolutely, what am I checking it for?" I ask back.

"Nothing specifically, just that it suits you," Fitz responds.

"You mean besides the fact it's not a rifle?" I giggle.

I pick up the gun and feel dramatic pointing it to see how it feels.

"Pretty good to me, thanks," I say as I pass it off to him and he progresses to hand it off to Ward.

"Sorry, Fitz. It's close, but it's just not right."

"Really? Cause Agent Coulson and Elle had no problems," Fitz tries to explain.

"It's an ounce too heavy," Ward says.

"An ounce? Seriously?" Skye chirps in. I still try and keep minimal contact with her, I'll forgive her... it just might take a while.

"It's the difference between success and failure. When you're on a roof-top with a 15 mile per hour wind, your target is 500 yards away -"

"Yeah, but we do have a rifle," Fitz retorts and Ward shoots him a look.

"Lose the ounce," he sharply responds.