#ask things!

When they’d stopped in Greece for their anniversary, he’d taken her to dinner at the fanciest restaurant Athens had to offer, but instead of staring at each other the entire night, they’d watched as the coastline burned some distance away, the result of corporate greed and (apparently) some accidental arson. She’d woken up the next day to find their bags packed and Mack with his phone pressed to his ear.

 “Yessir. I’ll get her the coordinates as soon as possible. Tell them to prep for disaster relief.” 

“Where are we going?” SHIELD didn’t need them already, did they? She and Mack had fought long and hard for this vacation – they weren’t going to go back a damn day earlier than they’d asked for. “Was that Coulson?” 

“Yeah, and he’s sending backup. We’re going down the coast.” 

“I thought we were going to the beach.” The causes of the fire had resonated something deep within Elena, having been at the receiving end of her own share of government gone wrong. But Mack had been so excited to go to the beach and eat out, she figured she’d just sneak out at night to help. The people had deserved at least that much. “You’ve been talking about it for weeks.”

“And I can see it in your eyes.” When Elena opened her mouth to protest, Mack raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “Don’t tell me you weren’t going to find a way to go help those people when I wasn’t looking, Yo-Yo.” 

“You would’ve been too slow to notice, anyways” was her answering remark, but she took her bags with a renewed rush of affection for her husband. It was exactly like him to give up something as rare as their vacation (on their anniversary, no less) to go help people that were more in need. It was one of the reasons she’d seen him in the first place. 

Besides, she was sure he got enough of a treat when Coulson let her loose on the politicians, watching amusedly with the rest of the team as Grecian man in double-breasted suits were thoroughly dressed down in fluent Greek by a short Colombian woman wearing a t-shirt patterned with bright pink flamingos. 

The picture still hung on their mantle. 

Needless to say, Elena was plenty confident she knew the extent of her husband’s skills. The last surprise had been when was carrying Natalia, Mack’s surprising ability to read IKEA instructions coming in handy when their daughter announced her presence a month early. Since then, they’d picked up parenting skills up together as a duo, days spent learning to prep bottles and swaddle tiny humans tinged with warm bouts of laughter. 

(She wasn’t allowed to speak about his skills in bed. Daisy had expressly forbidden it after she’d caught them in a supply closet one day. “I don’t wanna hear about it!”)

Those days were now behind them, however, and their bottle-prepping days were now replaced with chauffeuring ones. Depending on Natalia’s preference that month, it was dance lessons, soccer practice, or track and field. Mack had been happy his daughter was taking an interest in everything under the sun, but even had to admit it was taking a bit of a toll on their wallets. They were going to have to have a talk soon – one that Elena was not looking forward to.

“Daddy, we’re home!” Natalia announced as soon as she and her mother stepped through the door. The activity of the month was dance lessons once more, and Mack had warned his daughter that she had to stick with them for at least six months – so far, she was holding true to her promise, even looking to perform that winter in the concert. “Wanna see what I learned for Swan Lake today?” Without even waiting for an answer, she ran through the house looking for Mack. “Daaaaadddy!” 

Elena laughed, setting her keys down. “Turtleman,” she called, “your pequeña bailarina is home,” She could still hear Natalia bouncing around the house looking for her father, so she joined in. “She learned how to do a – damn word’s in French to begin with, how am I supposed to remember it in English, a uh. It’s a twirl.” Mack would know what she was talking about, anyways. “One of the hard twirls. You’d be proud. I think she got my footwork genes.” That and Elena’s spunky attitude seemed to be the two main things Natalia had inherited from her mother. They weren’t too sure about the Inhuman genes yet, but Simmons had assured them that they’d be well prepared when or if they showed.

“Daddy, I talked to Auntie Mel today!” Had her daughter really not found him yet? Hm. Normally, Mack would’ve scooped her up already. “She said I can come visit her next week! And have tea with her! Have you ever had tea with Auntie Mel, Daddy?”

“Mack?” Elena peeked into the different rooms of their house a little faster than she normally allowed herself, but the fact that Mack hadn’t responded yet to either of them was somewhat concerning. “Turtleman, where are you?” When each room turned up more empty than the last, she had to work a little harder to push down the panic threatening to work its way through her system. “Mack!”

She finally found him in the deserted study at the end of the hallway, headphones in and bent over a sewing machine. “There you are, both of us have been looking all over for you. May called and said Talia could visit next week, and the dance teacher wants to know if she’ll be signing up for lessons in the spring –”

Mack took off his headphones. “What?”

Elena stood there for a minute. “I – never mind.” She looked down at the sewing machine to see a large mass of pink velour being run through the stitcher. “Are you…are you sewing?” 

“Talia’s costume for the jazz portion was too long,” Mack answered, and it was only then that she registered the small click-clicks the sewing machine was making. “Took it to May in the hopes that she could help, but I’m guessing she hasn’t seen Talia long enough to see that she’s grown. A lot.” He dryly held up stretch of cloth Elena vaguely identified as a pant leg. “She cut the pant leg to her knee.” 

Well, it certainly had been…an attempt. “I didn’t know you could do that,” she hummed. Better he tried than she did – she’d never had an eye for delicate crafts and suspected she never would.  “When did you learn how to sew, Turtleman? And when did you learn to use a sewing machine?”

“Back in the days of home ec,” Mack chuckled. “None of the other kids thought I’d be able to make a stitch because my hands were so big. Scored the highest on the final because of my stitches.” Elena watched as he switched pant legs, running the cloth through the small threader. “What were you saying about Talia?”

“Daddy!” Natalia burst through the door as if they’d choreographed the entire sequence. “I learned how to do a pirouette today. We had a diff’rent teacher in and her name was Miss Bobbi, her hair was really gold and shiny –” both parents exchanged a slightly confused and alarmed look, Elena having learned enough about the disavowed agents to know Bobbi and kids didn’t mix – “and when she called my name, she had to cough a lot.” 

“Did she now?” Mack asked, amusement coloring his tone. “It was probably just a really long name, bailarina. After all, I thought my name was long enough until your mother’s came along.” 

“She said to say hi to you. Do you know her, Daddy?”

 Mack really jolted then, the sewing machine coming to a quick halt. “Why would I know your dance teacher, silly? You just met her, too.” The machine started up again, and Elena sighed in relief. “She’s just being funny.” 

Natalia seemed to take the answer at its surface. “Yeah. She was funny. She yelled at the other guy in the office a lot.” Mack finished up the pants, shutting off the machine and beckoning his daughter close so he could see if the legs matched up.

“Good as new,” he announced. “You ready to go back to the fifties, Miss Talia?” The younger girl stared down at the pink pants and psychedelic swirl top before striking a dramatic pose. “That a girl! Perfect, kiddo.” He held his hand out for a high-five, which Natalia met with a cheer. “Your winter concert is gonna be so great. I can’t wait.” 

“Auntie Mel said I could come visit next week, too! I talked to her today.” Natalia beamed at the thought of getting to spend time with her aunt and turned to her mother. “Mamá?”

 “What is it, mi hija?” 

“D’you think Auntie Mel was alive during the fifties? Can I ask her?” 

Both of them could already see the fallout that would occur from anyone inferring May was old – and it wasn’t pretty. The scenarios already had them shuddering in fear. “Mamá? Daddy?”