My S.O. – Flick Away, Baby
The few times Grant Ward sees Skye as more than a hacktivist – his melodious trainee, a friend, and once, even called his. Training Session
“Are you seriously going to rub it in my face every time we train?” Skye cried, picking up the magazine from the table’s surface. “Skye, it’ll reflect badly on me if you keep flunking Gunnery,” Ward protested but thoughtfully gauged her reaction. Seeing as she kept a blank face, he continued, “It’s my job as your S.O…” “That’s all you ever say, Ward!” she yelled, tears forming on the corners of her eyes. She hated how he didn’t know the sting of letting him down. There was always that feeling of kicking-a-puppy whenever she saw Ward get disappointed. “You keep nagging about me being such a klutz and that I don’t listen to you but really, I do! I just think it takes more than a month to be trained to use a gun, you know?” she trailed, her tone falling. At that one moment, Ward felt guilty for giving her the cold shoulder. At the back of his head, he even thought his chest tightened a bit after seeing Skye tear up. He shook his head instinctively, “I’m sorry you feel that way. For what it’s worth, I’m just being professional.” “Yeah, you’re my S.O. I get it,” she put on a smile, as if shrugging of the fact that she actually cried over letting Ward down. How bizarre, she thought. For some time, the awkward silence in the firing range seemed deafening to Ward, so he decided to break it. “I’ll make you a deal. You can flick my ear whenever I use the word ‘S.O.’ or any phrase that says S.O,” he said, and in hopes of turning her smile into a real one, he formed a soft smile on his lips and put a thumb up. He knew he was completely out of character but it felt so odd to him seeing Skye putting on a fake beam. She grinned wider, her eyes lighting up. “Deal,” and with that, she plucked him on the ear twice and left like a boss. Sunday Sports
Fitz chimed, flipping over to the sports channel.
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