Prompt: skye steals ward's clothes.

I have a particular weakness for clothes theft fics so enjoy!

They're not on the bus.

It's another SHIELD plane with four other teams on it, all of whom have collaborated on a Centipede op.

When the plane goes down, it's nearing three in the morning, the aircraft hurtling downwards in a blur of darkness, screams and frenzied orders to stay calm despite the thundering and shaking and the eventual shuddering collision with the ground.

There's several moments of silence until May and another agent emerge stumbling from the cockpit, dazed. May has a large gash over her forehead and the other pilot's hands refuse to stop shaking.

Finally, Ward says to Coulson 'Sir? What do we do?'

Coulson glances up, surveying their surroundings. 'At this hour, we should have all been asleep. According to emergency protocols, should the plane go down between the hours of ten p.m. and four a.m., the bunks will seal shut to protect anybody in them from flying debris. The fact that we were all working on the mission means that we now have the opportunity to assess the situation.'

'So we can't access our bunks,' Simmons says heavily. 'Right.'

'We assemble in the cargo hold and stick together, understood?' orders Coulson. 'That way, we can be ready for an attack from whoever brought this plane down. Everyone must be armed with two guns and a knife - Fitzsimmons, once we're down there, see if we can set up comms to use amongst each other.'

'Yes sir,' says Fitzsimmons in unison as everyone begins shuffling towards the stairs.

Ward glances around to try and find his rookie, becoming slightly agitated when he notices that she is nowhere in sight.

'Sir, where is Skye?' he asks urgently in an undertone to Coulson. The older agent takes a quick look around their area of the plane, worry flashing through his eyes when he notices the absence of their hacker. He shoots May a meaningful look, to which she nods, disappearing into the plane's corridors.

'Sir, let me help,' Ward begins but Coulson shakes his head.

'She'll be okay,' he says reassuringly. 'Just let May find her.'

She does.

The young hacker is waiting by the kitchen underneath one of the benches, wearing cotton pyjama shorts and a large sweatshirt that May recognises belongs to Ward. Knowing him, he'd probably left it in the gym after training and Skye hasn't had a chance to return it.

'I figured I should wait until someone found me instead of wandering around,' says Skye in hurried explanation. 'You know, in case parts of the plane were damaged.'

'Good,' says May. 'That was smart. Come on - we're all moving to the cargo hold. We're arming ourselves and waiting for the enemy to attack the plane. We're guessing they're the ones who hacked into our systems and brought us down.'

'Give me a computer and I can verify it was Centipede,' offers Skye. May almost grins, replying with a small nod and leading the younger woman towards the staircase.

The other four teams don't react when May and Skye enter the cargo hold but Coulson releases a huge sigh of relief and Fitzsimmons look up with smiles from where they are trying to set up working comms without the plane's electricity. Ward immediately crosses the room, taking May's spot as she joins Coulson.

'You okay?' Ward asks worriedly.

'I'm fine,' promises Skye, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. 'Just a bit shaken up. I think May's gonna try and get me a laptop so I can confirm that it was Centipede hacking us and bringing the plane down so - ' She notices him staring, furrowing her eyebrows. 'What is it?'

'That's my jersey,' says Ward in confusion, tugging at the sleeve.

Skye blushes furiously. '…Um…yeah it is? You left it behind after training last week and I was gonna return it to you but you didn't seem to notice it was gone and I dunno, it was comfy and…' She trails off, looking sheepish.

Ward laughs, shaking his head. 'Don't worry about it. You can keep it.'

Skye raises an eyebrow in surprise. 'You sure?'

He gives her arm a gentle squeeze. 'It's old anyway. The colour's almost gone - it used to be bright blue. And it's torn at the bottom. You can throw it out if you want.'

Later, cowering from the rattle of gunfire behind the stairwell with Fitzsimmons, Skye buries her face in the sweatshirt, inhaling the smell of cologne and the powder they use when boxing in the gym and the scent that had been absorbed from the incense in her own bunk. She waits, her hand tightly clutching her own weapon that she has been ordered not to use unless absolutely necessary. After what seems like forever, the gunfire dies down and Coulson shouts 'All clear!'

All the agents retreat, and Ward's eyes search the crowd until they fix upon her. The moment he's close enough, Skye loops her arms around his neck, slinking onto her tiptoes to bury her face in his shoulder. He hugs her back tightly.

'You didn't get shot, right?' she questions anxiously, her voice muffled by his shirt.

'No, no, I'm fine,' he assures. 'You?'

She nods, smiling into the crook of his neck. The baggy, faded and sort of stolen sweatshirt hanging far past her hips had made her feel like he'd been holding her like this the whole time.

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