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“I have to admit- I didn’t think she’d be that good with her.” He’d done it again, Melinda realized with a sigh of frustration, leaning over to place her hand firmly over his as Phil glanced up in surprise. Her partner had never admitted his lack of cooking skill, but following him home for Christmas had given her a glimpse into areas of his life she’d never thought she’d see- and much to her surprise and subsequent frustration…cooking was definitely not one of his talents.
“She’s your mother, Phil- not a child. Natasha had a mother- I’m sure she’s enjoying the chance to be somewhere other than the Academy for her winter break.”
“I just didn’t…I meant to say that I didn’t expect them to mesh so well.”
“Then say what you mean,” Melinda replied patiently, and extracted the knife from his hand with a smile. “And stop chopping. I’ve got this if you’d rather help the two of them decorate the tree.”
“I’d rather not do it without you.”
“And if we’re going to eat before midnight, I’d rather you get out of the kitchen.” The Christmas break had gathered them at Juliette Coulson’s Minnesota home only because she’d needed them- or, more specifically, Melinda reflected- Phil. Black ice and a negligent driver had given his mother a bump on the head and a broken arm a few days prior, and with the panic of a worried son Phil had booked the first flight out. She’d tagged along, claiming the need to be somewhere other than the Academy dorms herself, and with her mother out of the country her own holiday choices had been limited.
Natasha had been, she thought with a grimace, an afterthought- but the revelation that she was resigned to a week of solitude and solo training sessions had been enough to prompt Melinda to encourage the quick packing of a bag and the last minute round-trip booking on Delta. And even despite her partner’s concerns his mother had been more than happy to host the band of S.H.I.E.L.D trainees, although Melinda had refused to allow her within feet of the kitchen once they’d landed on her doorstep.
“Need some help?”
“I’ve got it under control…but I could use another cup of tea, if you’re available.” Having Phil refill her mug had been the one thing Melinda realized she’d forgotten to do, and she held up hands mottled in magenta with an apologetic smile. “There should be enough water in the kettle for another one, if you want to stay for a bit.”
“Having a broken arm isn’t keeping her from reaching the high branches- or kicking my ass in Backgammon.” Natasha grinned, reached for a mug of chilled chamomile at Melinda’s elbow and poured out of the kettle she’d retrieved from the stove.
“I didn’t realize you played.”
“I didn’t. Not until we got here.” Vivid red hair had been pulled into a ponytail, swept away from a face deceptively young in its smooth skin and clear complexion. When Natasha had been assigned to her she’d thought a million things in the span of a second, most of which had been angled toward the frustration of yet another soft and naïve girl she had to train for a life no one expected. And for Melinda the unexpected had been that Natasha Romanov became a surprising ally- someone she’d never imagined came from a world as shaded and secretive as S.H.I.E.L.D taught their Agents to be. Romanov, from what little she'd leaned of her past, had come from a world that put S.H.I.E.L.D to shame with its secrets. “You have holidays like this when you were a kid?”
“Not once. Holidays don’t have the same feeling to them when your mother has to go away on a top-secret mission and no one can tell you why. Or where.” The remaining vegetables chopped, Melinda stepped over to the sink to run her hands beneath clear, cool water that soon ran red from the juices washing away. “I can’t think of a time we were all in the same place.”
“I never had this- that I can remember. But there was a lot…that I don’t. Can’t.” There was something in her voice that had Melinda pausing, daubing her hands on a towel before reaching into a nearby cupboard to withdraw a thick clay mug and depositing a teabag into it.
“You’re having one now. I’ve only heard stories- Coulson can talk for hours if you let him- and from what I can tell we’re in for a few hours of Jimmy Stewart and the I Love Lucy holiday special.” It had been her idea to inject the hour of Lucy into the mix, and when she’d stuffed her own well-worn copy into the bag holding Coulson's treasured Charlie Brown Christmas it had been his declaration that it would be up to his mother whether the holiday special made it into the lineup. We watch “White Christmas” after “It’s a Wonderful Life”. And there’s always eggnog, May. My mother makes the best eggnog in the neighborhood.
When you come from a town with only one stoplight, she’d thought- that wasn’t a difficult challenge to meet. But there had been eggnog when they'd come- chilled, foamy and smooth as it slid down her throat, and she'd been forced to admit that Juliette Coulson did make damned good eggnog.
“What are we having for dinner, anyway?” Feet tucked beneath her, Natasha had taken her own tea and burrowed into the breakfast nook, huddled up on the bench that lined one side of the rectangular table. The other side sported a similar bench, though it had been covered with an avalanche of duffel bags and thick winter coats since their decent upon the Coulson household hours before.
“It’s a vegetable soup recipe- something I dug up when my mother insisted I bring a few ideas to S.H.I.E.L.D. She was never much for home cooking, but the idea that I was going to sustain myself on dorm living was enough for her to unearth a few recipe cards. This is my favorite.”
“Coulson was in here earlier trying to help, wasn’t he?”
“Trying,” Melinda replied wryly, picking up the cutting board to deposit its contents into a pot on the stovetop. “He may be able to hotwire a car in ten seconds or less, but he can’t cut root vegetables to save his life.”
“Ten seconds?”
“Maybe twelve.”
“Try eight. And I don’t remember you doing any better. What was your best- sixteen? We’d be Hydra prisoners by then, and they’d still be in possession of their Humvee.” The topic of their current thread of conversation popped his head in, and Natasha neatly pulled herself up from her comfortable slouch. “Don’t get up- I was checking on dinner.”
“Go. Entertain. Your mother.”
“We finished the tree, and she’s kicking my ass at Backgammon. Says she kicked Natasha’s earlier- so it sounds like it’s your turn, May.”
“I’m cleaning up, Phil.” Sometimes she wondered what the banter between them looked like to outsiders, and as Melinda reached for the scattered knives along the counter, she caught sight of the grin on Natasha’s face and realized it was just as she thought it sounded. Like partners- who had each other’s backs in any situation, even those involving family. “You can suffer through another defeat for a few more minutes.”
“I’ve got cleanup. Go throw yourself to the Backgammon gods, Melinda- she’s waiting.” He sent Natasha a spirited grin as Melinda grudgingly headed toward the living room, and picked up the mug left behind on the edge of the counter. “Don’t forget the chamomile- I know how you get when you lose.”
“Maybe you should drink it. Get yourself centered before I take you down tomorrow morning.” They’d brought few things beyond clothing and holiday film favorites, but Phil had revealed his father’s collection of workout mats and lifting weights- so Melinda had suggested a workout session after breakfast in the morning and he’d enthusiastically accepted the challenge of taking her down. You can try, she’d countered, and even as he stared into the mug of cooling tea he wondered how much he was going to hurt the next afternoon for his efforts.
“How long do you think she’ll last?”
“Longer than both of us,” Phil replied. “But probably not long enough for us to order pizza without her knowing about it.”
“Pizza?”
“I may not be a decent cook, or even a good one…” He stepped over to the stove, glancing into the pot of boiling water and floating vegetables. “But Melinda’s even worse, and if I don’t order pizza now she’ll be onto us before we can get anything else in the house. There’s no way she’ll be able to last in a game with my mother for more than twenty minutes. Half hour, tops, if we’re lucky.”
“Is it always like this? You and May?”
“We’ve been partners for longer than I thought we would. I can’t imagine a day it won’t be like this.” The phone in hand now, Phil began to punch in numbers as he glanced toward the living room and the silence emanating from it. “Keep watch for me- and if she gets through that door before I finish ordering…”
“I’ve got this.” It was a testament to her loyalty that Natasha went unarmed, he thought, and as the young woman settled on the eggshell-and-blue freckled linoleum with a determined expression on her face, Phil Coulson prepared to take the greatest risk of his night.
“Yes, I’d like to order a large pizza…extra cheese, light on the anchovies…”