#agent hill

Maria drapes a blanket around your shoulders, accepting that today is another day where you clearly have no intention of leaving the house. It’s been like that ever since she brought you home and it pains her to see you become a shell of your former self. You were a SHIELD agent like her, one of the bravest and gutsiest that they had. Now you’re afraid of something as simple as visiting the grocery store.

SHIELD were understanding of your current fragile emotional state. Well, they had been at first. Recently they’ve been putting pressure on Maria to get you back out into the field. Although you hadn’t officially handed in your notice Maria isn’t sure how you’re ever supposed to continue your duties as a SHIELD agent. Even having visitors round to the house was proving difficult – Coulson had come round to visit and after fifteen minutes you’d gone upstairs and locked yourself in the bedroom. Maria had apologised profusely but Coulson had simply held his hands up, not taking it personally.

It had all been because of that stupid mission you’d gone on. Maria had had reservations about you going on your own from the very beginning. You were confident though – overly so. But that was just how you were, confident in your abilities and you also trusted SHIELD. If they thought you could do it then of course you could. When your communications had gone offline Maria had called for immediate extraction only to discover there had never been an extraction plan. Maria had hit the roof – then she’d found out the truth. They’d been hoping Hydra would take you. You were the bait they’d needed. They’d assumed your emotional state would withhold anything Hydra did to you until they were able to find you.

Maria has no idea the true extent of what happened while you were with Hydra, but she can see from the aftereffects it had been worse than anyone could’ve predicted. You don’t leave the house. You don’t like visitors. The only person you seem to still trust is Maria – and even that had taken some working.

“Why don’t you read or something?” Maria asks you now “You’ve done nothing but watch TV for the past few weeks.”

“I like the TV. Helps me switch off.”

Maria sighs, running a loving hand through your hair “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m trying my best-”

“I know you are hun, I know you are.” Maria wraps an arm around you, pulling you close to her side, and you lean your head on her shoulder “I know it’s hard for you right now. But I hate seeing you just stare mindlessly at that TV. I’m not at work today so maybe we could try something different, something we can do together. We could do some baking or some crafts. Even if we just sat in the garden-” You quickly shake your head and Maria’s heart sinks “Okay, we don’t have to go outside but there’s plenty we can do inside that’s not just sitting and staring into space.”

You hesitate, knowing that Maria is right. Watching TV is rotting your brain but it’s one of the only activities that seems to occupy your mind. If you’re focused on the lives of the characters in front of you, you don’t have to think about the trauma you faced. Maria’s tried to engage you in activities before but you’re so skittish now compared to how you used to be and truthfully… It embarrasses you. You’d gone from taking down terrorists and international threats to being too scared to venture into your own back garden. It’s a beautiful day outside – in the past if you and Maria had a day off work together you were out doing something. Walking in the park, getting ice-cream, maybe even going as far as the beach. Theme park days, museums, picnics, you never wasted a precious day off by sitting around the house; you were both always doing something.

Your life has been ruined. And now you’re ruining hers.

When you look up at your girlfriend the patient, loving expression on her face only makes you feel worse “I guess… Something crafty could be fun.”

Maria smiles and soon the two of you are sat at your kitchen table with art supplies spread out in front of you. Before your mission you’d seen a TikTok about travelling journals, and you and Maria had thought it would be cute to have a journal each that you both swapped every time you were apart. Not that that’s likely to happen anytime soon but carefully mapping out and crafting each page is proving therapeutic. Maria puts on some music for background noise and you feel yourself relax. This is nice.

Journaling takes up a good portion of the day and when you’re done you let Maria direct you into the kitchen so you can cook dinner together. Nothing complicated but it’s nice to do something ‘normal’. To not sit in front of the TV and just stare mindlessly at the moving pictures. In fact, you’ve barely thought about Hydra and everything you went through. Maria has provided the perfect distractions and you feel a rush of love and gratitude for her.

Maria wraps her arms around your waist as you stir the food in the pot “I love you so much.”

“Love you too.” You whisper, putting one hand over hers “I’m sorry.”

Maria frowns “For what?”

“For not being… For dragging you down. For disrupting your life. I know it probably killed you to stay inside today-”

“Hey, hey, no it didn’t…” Maria says, kissing your shoulder “I love spending time with you, you know that.”

“But I’m not me anymore.” Your eyes fill with tears “I don’t know who I am anymore but it’s not me.”

Maria tightens her arms around your waist, burying her face in your neck. In some ways it’s true. Your previous bravado is all but gone, as is your confidence and your cheeky ways. But in a lot of ways you are still you. Still kind, thoughtful, loving and above all else you’re still brave. Maybe not brave in the way you were before but you’re still here. You get out of bed every morning and you try your best.

“You know how worried I was when you didn’t answer me over comms?” Maria asks quietly, pressing a light kiss to your neck “When I heard there was no extraction plan… I was furious. Convinced that I’d never see you again. So I don’t care if you’re different. You’re still my love and I’m so glad you’re here, home safe with me.”

“What if I’m never the way I used to be?” You sniffle.

“As long as you’re happy then I’m happy.” Maria whispers “I know things are difficult for you at the moment, I know that. We’re not going to rush, okay? But I’m going to get you back to a point where you can leave the house, where we can get back to some semblance of what life looked like before. Even if I don’t achieve that until we’re eighty. Maybe you’ll never be a SHIELD agent again but I want you to enjoy life again not be afraid of it.”

You turn to face her, wrapping your own arms around her “I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You won’t. Things are different now but it doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Maria cups your cheek with her hand and presses a gentle, loving kiss to your lips “I think it would be good if we started having guests round again.”

You nod, looking down “I was so rude to Coulson-”

“He understands. Let’s invite him back round for dinner, he’d love that. You know you’re one of his favourite agents.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You ask quietly, leaning your forehead against hers.

Pumpkins. So many pumpkins.

You set the bags down in the Avengers compound kitchen, grinning proudly at your haul: carving kits, construction paper, pipe cleaners, paint, a suspicious amount of glitter, and enough miniature gourds to make the entire tower look like a pumpkin patch.

Tony was the first to notice, striding in with a coffee mug. He squinted. “This looks like either a seasonal hostage situation or a Pinterest cult.”

“Family craft night,” you said cheerfully, already pulling supplies from the bags. “It’s Halloween, and we’re doing it properly this year.”

Tony sipped his coffee. “Do I look like someone who uses scissors and glue?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “Scissors to cut through your ego, glue to hold it back together.”

“Ha. Cute.” He wandered off, but you knew he’d circle back once the fun started. He always did.

By the time the others arrived, the table was transformed into craft chaos. Clint’s kids ran in first, squealing at the sight of glitter glue. Wanda floated over bowls of candy corn. Steve inspected a pile of construction paper like he was reviewing blueprints. Natasha perched with her coffee, looking like she was plotting ten different escape routes.

And then Maria walked in.

She stopped dead at the sight of the table. “…Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” you countered, stepping forward to greet her with a grin. “Craft night. You’re in.”

“I came here for dinner, not…” her eyes flicked to the glitter. “…whatever that is.”

You tugged at her sleeve, smile widening. “Maria. It’s one evening. One night of bats and pumpkins and ghosts. Please?”

Her sigh was long and theatrical, but you saw the soft curve of her mouth. “Fine. But if that glitter ends up on my suit—”

“It won’t,” you lied instantly.

Within fifteen minutes, the kitchen looked like a kindergarten art room exploded. Lila and Cooper had taken over the paper crafts. Wanda was carefully folding origami bats. Tony had predictably stolen a glue gun. And Natasha—Natasha was making the world’s most terrifyingly accurate paper spider, which she kept sneaking onto Steve’s shoulder.

Maria sat at the far end of the table with you, expression skeptical as she inspected a carving kit.

“You know these are basically child-safe plastic knives, right?” she said.

“Exactly,” you replied, sliding a pumpkin toward her. “No excuses. Show me your spooky side.”

She gave you one long look. “I don’t have a spooky side.”

“Oh, you do,” you teased, leaning closer. “And I fully intend to see it.”

You expected her to make something simple. A triangle-eyed jack-o’-lantern. Maybe a lopsided grin. But ten minutes later, you looked over and your jaw dropped.

Maria was carving an intricate, perfectly detailed spiderweb across the pumpkin’s surface — each line precise, each curve deliberate. It looked like something out of a professional contest.

“Are you—” you blinked. “Maria, that’s insane. How are you doing that?”

She shrugged. “Steady hands.”

“From…?”

“Years of field knife training.”

You stared at her, then burst into laughter. “Of course the Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. is secretly a pumpkin-carving prodigy.”

Her lips curved into the smallest, smug smile. “I told you I don’t do things halfway.”

When she finally set down the carving tool, you grabbed her pumpkin and practically sprinted to the center of the room.

“Everyone, look at this!” you announced dramatically, holding it up like it was Simba in *The Lion King*.

The room went quiet as the glow from inside illuminated the web design.

“Holy—” Clint whistled. “That’s not a pumpkin, that’s art.”

Natasha arched a brow, clearly impressed. “You did that freehand?”

Maria shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It’s just lines.”

“Lines?” Tony snorted. “That’s Michelangelo-level pumpkin surgery.”

Lila clapped her hands. “It’s so pretty! Can she do mine next?”

You beamed, setting Maria’s pumpkin proudly at the center of the table. “Told you she had a spooky side.”

Maria shot you a look — half exasperated, half fond. But you could see the tiniest flush of pride in her cheeks.

. . .

### Domestic Distraction, Halloween Edition

The rest of the evening dissolved into chaos:

Wanda enchanted her bats to flap around the ceiling, Steve tried to enforce a “no glitter war” rule (and failed miserably), and Clint ended up with googly eyes stuck to his forehead courtesy of his kids.

At one point, you dipped your finger in orange paint and brushed it across her cheek.

You, however, were focused on Maria. Every time she reached for something — scissors, paint, another pumpkin — you found yourself smiling. She was relaxed. Not Deputy Director Hill. Not the unshakable, unreadable leader.

Just Maria.

Her eyes narrowed instantly. “Did you just—”

“Festive war paint,” you said innocently.

Maria slowly reached for the paintbrush, and you yelped, darting out of reach. She caught you anyway, smearing a perfect streak of black paint across your nose.

The others groaned.

“Get a room,” Tony muttered, though he was grinning.

By the time the crafts were done, the compound looked like Halloween exploded. Garlands hung from the walls, pumpkins glowed in the corners, and the air smelled faintly of roasted seeds and cider.

And in the middle of it all sat Maria’s pumpkin, still glowing, still perfect.

. . .

Later that night, when everyone else had drifted off, you curled up on the couch with Maria. The carved pumpkin sat on the coffee table, its intricate design flickering in candlelight.

“You know,” you whispered, leaning against her, “I’m going to brag about that pumpkin every Halloween for the rest of our lives.”

Maria kissed the top of your head. “As long as you don’t expect me to do glitter next year.”

You grinned, snuggling closer. “No promises.”