Coulson Squared

Pilot

You walked into the room by the side of your father with one goal--sway Melinda May into joining your crew. Before Bahrain, she and her husband had watched you when your dad was on assignment, but that was at least six years ago. You had only been 15 then, and hadn't seen her since. You had never been sure if she liked you or not.

"Agent May," Phil greeted the woman.

She looked up in surprise. "No," she stopped him before he could even ask the question.

"Told you," you nudged your father.

"So you've been briefed," he ignored you.

"I'm not going back in the field," she said further.

"Nice to see you, too, Mindy," you grinned.

"Don't call me that," she warned.

"You've got such a nice setup here," Phil joked. "You ever thought about adding a moat?"

"No, it would just lessen the unapproachability she's got going on. Nothing is more daunting than a wall of filing boxes," you noted.

May gave the two of you a look that clearly said, "What do you want?"

"I just need you to drive the bus," he explained. "Liaise ground transpo, some on-site supervision. This isn't a combat op."

"Yeah, just non-stop partying," you added.

May sighed, getting back to her paperwork. "Then you don't need me," she stated, stapling a packet.

"I do," he said. "'Cause we'll be running ourselves. Picking the ops, making the calls."

"And it's gonna be awesome," you interjected.

Phil nodded. "No red tape. This is where they actually make the red tape, isn't it? I always wondered."

"Wait, Dad, you didn't know this was here? I mean, I did, but ah..."

May smiled, and turned her attention away from you.

"Melinda."

"You're really just asking me to drive the bus?" she clarified.

"I'm not asking. But it's a really nice bus."

"It is! Oh my gosh, you're going to love it," you gushed.

--

You'd seen the plane before, but it still amazed you every time you saw it. You had already set up your bunk, and were currently enjoying watching Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons argue while they set up their lab.

Jemma picked up a specialized gun, and Fitz reacted immediately. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Watch it! That's the night-night gun."

You snickered to yourself. "Night-night gun?"

"Well, it's on my stuff, and it doesn't work," Simmons countered, "and there's no way we're calling it the night-night gun."

"The bullets work. Nonlethal, heavy stopping power, Break up under the subcutaneous tissue ."

"Oh, with a dose of only .1 microliters of dendrotoxin. I'm not Hermione. I can't create instant paralysis with that. You should have run the specs by me before building the molds."

"The bullets are hollow. It's a marvel I can keep them from breaking apart in the chamber."

"Or used a higher-caliber round. Or read a book. It's not particularly difficult."

"Have you ever heard of physics or--what's the other one? Inertia?"

Agent Ward dropped his bag, and the sound it made was loud enough to catch the attention of the arguing scientists. "Fitz-Simmons?" he asked.

"Fitz," Simmons introduced her partner.

"Simmons. I'm engineering. She's biochem. Agent Ward?" Fitz asked.

"And (Y/N)," you announced from your position on the sidelines.

"I already met you," Ward replied. "Coulson--Older Coulson--said I'd need my comm receiver encoded. Don't know if you've worked with that model before. It's--" he was cut off by Fitz smashing his comm. "Brand-new."

"He'll repurpose the I.D.I.S.Chip," Simmons explained.

"Don't need the external receiver for the inner-ear comms anymore," Fitz went on.

"The new ones are cooler anyway," you shrugged.

"So, uh, how does it--" Simmons suddenly attacked him with a cotton swab to Ward's mouth.

"Embedded sensorineural silicone matched to your DNA. It's very posh," she said, examining the swab. "So, are you excited to be coming on our journey into mystery?"

"It's like Christmas," he responded.

"The sarcasm is strong with this one," you commented.

Your dad then pulled up to the ramp in his bright red car. You'd had a running joke with him for a while now that the car was your older sister with how much he cared for her.

"One of Coulson's old SHIELD Collectibles. Flamethrowers, world's first GPS," Fitz listed to Ward. "He's mad for this crap."

"She's not crap. She's art," you told Fitz.

"Don't touch Lola," Phil stopped an agent.

"And he calls it a girl's name." Fitz smacked Ward's back, then went back to the lab, laughing to himself.

"Don't insult the car!" you called back to him as you followed your father and Ward up the stairs.

"Lola's not just a collectible, you know," the older Coulson informed Ward. "People tend to confuse the words 'new' and 'improved.' This mobile command, they were in heavy rotation back in the '90s, but then we got a heli-carrier."

"It's a little old, but it's great. It feels like home already, wouldn't you say, Dad?"

"You bet. This is going to be fun. Hey, Ward. Did you hear the one about the guy who's afraid of flying?" Phil grinned.

"I've done a night jump into a drop zone under heavy fire, sir. I can handle it," Ward told him. You face-palmed.

"That was a joke. The first part of a--" he sighed. "I'm not gonna tell it now."

"Oh, but it's a good one! Come on! Just because the stick-up-his-butt specialist here is stiff and humorless doesn't mean everyone is!" you complained.

"Hey! I am not stiff and--" you cut him off with an extremely skeptical look.

May entered the room, looking better and more in here element than she did in that office. "If you plan to unpack, make it quick. Wheels are up in five. We may have a hit on one of the Rising Tide's routing points," she said, handing a white binder to your dad.

"Good. We need to do some catching up."

May nodded and went back to the cockpit.

"It was nice talking to you, May," you called after her. You could have sworn that you saw a hint of a smile on her face as she turned to walk out.

"Is that who I think it is?" Ward asked incredulously.

"She's just the pilot," Phil shrugged.

"Melinda May is 'just the pilot.'"

"That's what he said," you chuckled. "I don't think she will be for long."

"Come on, sir," Ward goaded. "What game are you really playing?"

He didn't answer. "Better stow your gear," he advised instead.

"Yeah, May's a bit of a wild flyer," you said.

"I heard that!" she yelled back to you.

"Hey, don't you say anything about my first time flying!"