Daisy *Sneaks onto the base at 2AM*
May *turning in swivel chair*: Care to tell me where you were?
Daisy: I was with.. uh.. Coulson!
Coulson *also turns in swivel chair*: care to- *keeps spinning*- May, I can’t stop this chair!
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Thanks for the tag @backgroundagent3 - as usual I'm late to the game
Last song: Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift & Ed Sheeran.
Fav colour: purple.
Last movie/TV show: Just finished Castle for the umpteenth time
Sweet/spicy/savory: sweet.
Relationship status: single.
Last thing I googled: greyhound training tips.
Current obsession: my new greyhound.
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Based on this post and primarily this:
It was a nice restaurant, a distinct change from the diners and takeout places where SSR agents typically grabbed a bite on the run. Or at least it had been, until Carter and Sousa got done with it.
Jack picked his way through broken glass, overturned tables, and shattered dinner plates. He ground the sole of his shoe on a candle guttering slowly where it lay on its side, putting it out before it could set fire to anything flammable. The drapes looked like they’d been on fire earlier, but someone had managed to extinguish them before the whole place went up.
He had to walk slowly. He was only a few days out of the hospital, prone to shortness of breath just crossing a room, and dizzy spells from climbing the flight of stairs into the West Coast SSR bureau. Which was in fact where he’d been, sitting in a corner of Daniel’s office and sifting through Vernon’s files in search of a clue to the person who’d nearly ended his life on the floor of an L.A. hotel room, when the call came in. He couldn’t not go.
The sound of sharp British tones drew him towards the kitchen, where he found Peggy haranguing an unlucky junior SSR agent. “Good Lord, man, it’s only a dead body, surely you saw them during the war? I need to see the bullet wounds on the other side.”
The green-looking SSR agent helped her turn the body over, while Jack folded his arms and lounged in the doorway. Peggy wore a peach-colored dress with bright red flowers, which conveniently helped hide the bloodstains now splattering the hem. It was a lot dressier than her usual styles … in fact …
“Peggy, were you on a date?”
She looked up at him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were off duty. And out of your jurisdiction.”
“Aren’t you technically on vacation?” he felt compelled to retort. “And where’s –”
“Peggy, I got a lead on the other shooter in the alley; the busboy for the restaurant next door saw him go over a fence.” Sousa came in, looking down at a notebook rather than where he was walking – and yeah, he was dressed to the nines, too.
Amazing.
“Of course if you two go out for an evening, it’s going to end in a bloodbath.”
“For your information,” Peggy retorted, “only two people are dead, and both are most likely Leviathan agents.”
“Some people can manage to go on a date without anyone getting shot.”
“Some people can manage to catch a flight to New York without anyone getting shot, either,” was Sousa’s contribution, with a slight edge to it.
Honestly, it was like he didn’t sign these people’s paychecks. Okay, in Sousa’s case, he hadn’t for months. But still.
“I think it’s only fair to alert the LAPD if you two are going on a date, so they can be prepared for mayhem in the vicinity.”
Sousa’s ears had turned pink. “Are you going to help, or stand there and heckle?”
“I dunno, looks like you two have got things well in hand.” It wasn’t a major factor that the wall was doing a pretty good job of holding him up. Plus, they really did seem to have things under control. And none of them had any new bullet holes, which was the main thing he’d needed to reassure himself about.
Okay, gawking at the property destruction was also a bonus.
Especially since it wasn’t coming out of his department’s budget.
…. er. Depending on how Sousa decided to spin it. Considering that Peggy did still work for Jack, if you wanted to get technical about it, although they were deep in a web of technicalities now … she’d never really come off vacation …
So either this was his problem or Sousa’s, and working out the details was going to be a problem for the boys down in Accounting to figure out. Meanwhile, he leaned against the wall and watched Sousa kneel down by Peggy – one knee on the floor, the other cocked up, with his crutch leaning against the counter. Their foreheads were almost brushing as they examined the bullet wounds on the corpse, Peggy measuring the angle with a spatula.
They really were made for each other, in a completely terrifying way that was likely to be a nonstop budget headache for the SSR from here on out.
Peggy looked up. “Jack, if you are going to stand there insufferably smirking, make yourself useful and fetch the fingerprint kit from Daniel’s car, would you?”
There was a time and a place to point out that he didn’t need to take orders from her, being in charge and all. But he’d learned to pick his battles, and so, with a final glance in their direction that was both amused and fond, he went off through the mayhem of the restaurant’s main dining room to get it.
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