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Agents of SHIELD - Coffee Break
Title: Coffee Break
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Length: ~1,300 words
Warnings/Spoilers: None, really.
Synopsis: Do not try to shakedown the man in the Dolce & Gabbana suit - it's never a good idea.
Author's Notes: For the "extortion" square at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hc_bingo. I loved writing To Coerce with Force last year for the same prompt, but fought with an idea for this one until now.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.
Also available on AO3.
"You work for SHIELD." Now there was an accusation if he had ever heard one.
Phil looked at the man and tried not to sigh at the ridiculousness of it all. The speaker of the quintet of men had approximately a hundred and fifteen pounds on his own slowly returning weight, wore the requisite low-end-designed-to-look-high-end black suit, and three large golden rings on each hand to no doubt serve as the equivalent of the old-fashioned brass knuckles. He also favored his right side enough for the sole of his shoe to be worn down from repeated scuffing and his left ring finger had been broken at least once in recent history. The black hair dye was a little absurd though, a hint of the actual red-tinged roots showing where he missed a spot and the slightest streak of dark against the skin just behind his ear where he forgot to cover it properly.
This was all taken in with barely a blink which was, remarkably, exactly how long it took him to determine his exit strategy. "Many people work for SHIELD," he answered blithely.
The man snapped his fingers and one of his associates stepped up behind Skye and wrapped a hand around her throat. She made what was probably supposed to be a surprised squeak, but her eyes told Phil she was more annoyed than anything else.
"As I was saying," the man continued, eyes now darting between the two of them. "You work for that SHIELD group, and we're going to need a favor from you."
"And you feel that threatening a supposed agent of an international organization known for its explosive tendencies is the best way to obtain this favor?" Phil verified. He didn't bother to try to keep the incredulousness out of his voice.
The man cracked his knuckles as if he belonged in some made-for-tv movie about the dangers of organized crime. "No," he agreed. "But threatening your daughter here might."
"My- my daughter?" he asked. He choked on a laugh and shifted his foot three inches to the left so that Skye would not stab him with the heels she was currently wearing. He liked his shoes and would rather prefer to keep them in usable and non-perforated condition.
"Yeah, you're precious little girl here. It'd be a shame if she never made it to class again, wouldn't it?" the man asked with false sincerity. The threat was clear, and clearly unwarranted, really.
Phil looked to Skye and made a mental note to either talk to her about her current wardrobe choices, or possibly have her trained for undercover work in a campus setting should she pass the testing for agent status. Her love of jeans, simple tops, and hoodies did tend to fit the standard student repertoire, though most did not carry phones linked to security-locked sat-navs covered in Hello Kitty stickers.
The man was still talking, and Phil paid just enough attention to focus on his words though he mostly just mentally debated whether or not Skye would blow any cover given by hacking into MIT's database and both destroying the mainframe and making herself a valedictorian. In theory, the idiot could provide a clue as to who he was working for and whether or not there was any link to their current mission. It was doubtful, of course, but diligence was always worthwhile in the end.
The long and the short of it was that, this time, it was all Skye's fault. They had been stationed on campus for an in-depth review of a possible megalomaniac that may or may not have been attempting to create a superweapon. Skye had found a tiny little coffee shop just off campus with a truly excellent chai and had taken to both making regular caffeine runs for the rest of the team and abusing the wi-fi for her Tumblr addiction. While there, she had seen a barista getting a shakedown, and had told her that she should not feel obligated to pay protection money when the most dangerous thing around were the hazelnut and chocolate scones. It had gone downhill from there.
"So, let me get this straight," Phil interrupted. "You are threatening the equivalent of a federal agent because Cecilia doesn't make enough off of her biscotti sales to cover your fee? You don't want government secrets or medical breakthroughs or even alien artifacts, you just want cash?" He ran through the standard mental testing to check if he was hallucinating as surely no one could be quite so stupid.
The man looked confused, as did his associates. "The shopgirl can't pay. Your kid favors the place. You have far more money at your disposal, even as a paper pusher, than she ever will. Do the math," he tried. His calculations were, of course, over simplified and missing several variables inferring a clearly incorrect assumption from the relevant data in general. In other words, he was painfully wrong.
Skye, of course, lost it first. "They're kinda dumb, AC," she pointed out around what could honestly be called a giggle.
"They really are," a new voice agreed. May stood behind the thugs, all five-foot-nothing of bad attitude of her. Her arms were crossed and she didn't bother with a weapon as she had obviously reached the same conclusion he had regarding the supposed assailants: they just weren't worth it.
The thugs blinked first, and she made her move, three of them down in the time it took him to finish off the one closest to him in a way that did not aggravate Skye's position. He should have known better by now, really, as their pet trainee put her heels to good work and had mostly freed herself as well. The man who had held her made one last grab towards her, only to find a knee to a very sensitive area, and his hand in a painful looking and possibly dislocating hold gifted to him by a rather annoyed looking Ward.
"You okay?" Grant asked, not letting go.
Phil and Melinda both nodded readily enough, but Skye rubbed her neck once before she agreed, "I'm fine."
"You're bleeding," May corrected. She lifted Skye's long hair away from her neck to reveal a tiny line of blood and a bruise forming in the shape of a thumbprint.
"Only because the idiot got his finger stuck in my earring which, ow, but okay," Skye insisted.
"Danger of hoops," May said sagely, likely planning on going through Skye's minuscule collection that evening.
Phil looked for himself to confirm that the source of the injury was as stated and that the earring had not actually been ripped out, only tugged enough to cause minor discomfort. "Sorry," he said, having not planned for that level of idiocy.
Sky shrugged it off and took the tissue offered by May to dab at her ear while all three pretended not to hear the crunch of bone or the rather high-pitched wail of the man Ward released to collapse to the ground with the others. "Buy the next round, including cookies, and we'll call it even?"
"Deal," he agreed.
May called in the incident and Simmons insisted on checking Skye's ear while Phil and Fitz juggled enough cups and sweets for all, including some of the scones for good measure and refusing to accept them as gratis from the owner. The megalomaniac in question was stopped before he could release his weapon and his incredibly clever robotic delivery system was repurposed for SHIELD's needs. And if the tiny little coffee shop became a favorite of the cadre of agents assigned to watch over the lab assistants lest they become megalomaniacs in their own right, then that was a remarkable coincidence.
All in all, Phil thought as he sipped his chai, it was a decent afternoon's work.
End.
Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Length: ~1,300 words
Warnings/Spoilers: None, really.
Synopsis: Do not try to shakedown the man in the Dolce & Gabbana suit - it's never a good idea.
Author's Notes: For the "extortion" square at
hc_bingo. I loved writing To Coerce with Force last year for the same prompt, but fought with an idea for this one until now.Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.
Also available on AO3.
"You work for SHIELD." Now there was an accusation if he had ever heard one.
Phil looked at the man and tried not to sigh at the ridiculousness of it all. The speaker of the quintet of men had approximately a hundred and fifteen pounds on his own slowly returning weight, wore the requisite low-end-designed-to-look-high-end black suit, and three large golden rings on each hand to no doubt serve as the equivalent of the old-fashioned brass knuckles. He also favored his right side enough for the sole of his shoe to be worn down from repeated scuffing and his left ring finger had been broken at least once in recent history. The black hair dye was a little absurd though, a hint of the actual red-tinged roots showing where he missed a spot and the slightest streak of dark against the skin just behind his ear where he forgot to cover it properly.
This was all taken in with barely a blink which was, remarkably, exactly how long it took him to determine his exit strategy. "Many people work for SHIELD," he answered blithely.
The man snapped his fingers and one of his associates stepped up behind Skye and wrapped a hand around her throat. She made what was probably supposed to be a surprised squeak, but her eyes told Phil she was more annoyed than anything else.
"As I was saying," the man continued, eyes now darting between the two of them. "You work for that SHIELD group, and we're going to need a favor from you."
"And you feel that threatening a supposed agent of an international organization known for its explosive tendencies is the best way to obtain this favor?" Phil verified. He didn't bother to try to keep the incredulousness out of his voice.
The man cracked his knuckles as if he belonged in some made-for-tv movie about the dangers of organized crime. "No," he agreed. "But threatening your daughter here might."
"My- my daughter?" he asked. He choked on a laugh and shifted his foot three inches to the left so that Skye would not stab him with the heels she was currently wearing. He liked his shoes and would rather prefer to keep them in usable and non-perforated condition.
"Yeah, you're precious little girl here. It'd be a shame if she never made it to class again, wouldn't it?" the man asked with false sincerity. The threat was clear, and clearly unwarranted, really.
Phil looked to Skye and made a mental note to either talk to her about her current wardrobe choices, or possibly have her trained for undercover work in a campus setting should she pass the testing for agent status. Her love of jeans, simple tops, and hoodies did tend to fit the standard student repertoire, though most did not carry phones linked to security-locked sat-navs covered in Hello Kitty stickers.
The man was still talking, and Phil paid just enough attention to focus on his words though he mostly just mentally debated whether or not Skye would blow any cover given by hacking into MIT's database and both destroying the mainframe and making herself a valedictorian. In theory, the idiot could provide a clue as to who he was working for and whether or not there was any link to their current mission. It was doubtful, of course, but diligence was always worthwhile in the end.
The long and the short of it was that, this time, it was all Skye's fault. They had been stationed on campus for an in-depth review of a possible megalomaniac that may or may not have been attempting to create a superweapon. Skye had found a tiny little coffee shop just off campus with a truly excellent chai and had taken to both making regular caffeine runs for the rest of the team and abusing the wi-fi for her Tumblr addiction. While there, she had seen a barista getting a shakedown, and had told her that she should not feel obligated to pay protection money when the most dangerous thing around were the hazelnut and chocolate scones. It had gone downhill from there.
"So, let me get this straight," Phil interrupted. "You are threatening the equivalent of a federal agent because Cecilia doesn't make enough off of her biscotti sales to cover your fee? You don't want government secrets or medical breakthroughs or even alien artifacts, you just want cash?" He ran through the standard mental testing to check if he was hallucinating as surely no one could be quite so stupid.
The man looked confused, as did his associates. "The shopgirl can't pay. Your kid favors the place. You have far more money at your disposal, even as a paper pusher, than she ever will. Do the math," he tried. His calculations were, of course, over simplified and missing several variables inferring a clearly incorrect assumption from the relevant data in general. In other words, he was painfully wrong.
Skye, of course, lost it first. "They're kinda dumb, AC," she pointed out around what could honestly be called a giggle.
"They really are," a new voice agreed. May stood behind the thugs, all five-foot-nothing of bad attitude of her. Her arms were crossed and she didn't bother with a weapon as she had obviously reached the same conclusion he had regarding the supposed assailants: they just weren't worth it.
The thugs blinked first, and she made her move, three of them down in the time it took him to finish off the one closest to him in a way that did not aggravate Skye's position. He should have known better by now, really, as their pet trainee put her heels to good work and had mostly freed herself as well. The man who had held her made one last grab towards her, only to find a knee to a very sensitive area, and his hand in a painful looking and possibly dislocating hold gifted to him by a rather annoyed looking Ward.
"You okay?" Grant asked, not letting go.
Phil and Melinda both nodded readily enough, but Skye rubbed her neck once before she agreed, "I'm fine."
"You're bleeding," May corrected. She lifted Skye's long hair away from her neck to reveal a tiny line of blood and a bruise forming in the shape of a thumbprint.
"Only because the idiot got his finger stuck in my earring which, ow, but okay," Skye insisted.
"Danger of hoops," May said sagely, likely planning on going through Skye's minuscule collection that evening.
Phil looked for himself to confirm that the source of the injury was as stated and that the earring had not actually been ripped out, only tugged enough to cause minor discomfort. "Sorry," he said, having not planned for that level of idiocy.
Sky shrugged it off and took the tissue offered by May to dab at her ear while all three pretended not to hear the crunch of bone or the rather high-pitched wail of the man Ward released to collapse to the ground with the others. "Buy the next round, including cookies, and we'll call it even?"
"Deal," he agreed.
May called in the incident and Simmons insisted on checking Skye's ear while Phil and Fitz juggled enough cups and sweets for all, including some of the scones for good measure and refusing to accept them as gratis from the owner. The megalomaniac in question was stopped before he could release his weapon and his incredibly clever robotic delivery system was repurposed for SHIELD's needs. And if the tiny little coffee shop became a favorite of the cadre of agents assigned to watch over the lab assistants lest they become megalomaniacs in their own right, then that was a remarkable coincidence.
All in all, Phil thought as he sipped his chai, it was a decent afternoon's work.
End.
Feedback is always welcomed.