Who: Nick, Bobbi and Phil What: Baking and team bonding When: This morning Rating: Green
This weird jump into the future affected everything, but the only real spot Nick saw it happen was in the bakery. Prior to the jump, it was still getting settled in. Angela and Nick had discussed at length what the extra space could be used for, and a plan was put into motion for deliveries, more in-house baking, and opening a 24 hour diner.
Of course, Angela would never know the full extent of what was happening on the second, third and basement floors but that didn’t matter. She wanted that first floor, and she was happy to have it.
In a blink of an eye, an impressive company had been formed. Where there was empty space, there were now booths. The kitchen had tripled in size, and there were delivery and shipping set up. All in all, it was the perfect cover, and Fury was oddly happy that he didn’t need to slog through four years of dodging infiltration.
It also helped pad his bank account,considering he was part owner, but he wasn’t going to share that information. Very few people knew (read: Bobbi, Nat and Strange) of his baking proclivities and today, he was going to let someone else in on the secret.
“Coulson,” he barked, glaring at the man. “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to help me laminate the dough? It’s like you’ve never seen a croissant made from scratch before.” When Fury told Phil he’d have to work late for a secret mission, the other man had probably never imagined this.
“Figured I’d just stand here, actually,” Phil said with as innocent an expression as he could manage. People should probably be scared. Very scared. “And you’d be surprised on that croissant thing.”
What? He’s SHIELD, he’s seen shit. You know this, Nick.
“By the way,” Phil said, pushing away from the counter he’d been leaning against. “You are officially not allowed to laugh at me during this unless you acknowledge the caveat that if you do, I will find something to laugh at you about.”
That went for Bobbi, too, actually.
Bobbi who was helping herself to a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting. Anyone watching how she ate it...most men, actually...would be really fascinated. Her method of eating the cupcake consisted of the frosting first, one lick at a time.
“Don’t make me stop this bakery,” she warned in an amused voice. Of all the arguments she’s heard these two get into this was the weirdest. And fortunately, her cooking skills were well known so there was no way Fury would order her to help.
“When do we skip to cheesecake?”
Cheesecake was a waste of time, Nick thought to himself. There was no art to it, no skill . Not like the french bread he was currently tackling. There were machines in the bakery, which is how he prepared the majority of the bread. This dough though? He’d be doing it all by hand.
Nick pointed Phil to the giant mixer. “Add the ingredients that I’ve already prepared into the mixer. The dough has to sit so we may as well start that while I get the butter.” Since Phil looked confident, Nick wouldn’t provide much information. He could figure it out.
“There’s a mystery to baking,” he added suddenly, placing the butter between the plastic wrap before grabbing a rolling pin. “It’s gentle, and it’s harsh at the same time.” Cue the loud bang as he started to pound the butter. “But what matters is the end result. Everything matters. Even the crumbs. It’s a lot like our work. We can’t dismiss anything, and we need precision to make sure it turns out perfectly every time.”
Phil knew how to cook. He was good at cooking. And while no, cooking wasn’t baking, the same basic principles were there -- follow the directions, keep a damn eye on things, don’t experiment until you know what the hell you’re doing.
“And even when you’re paying complete attention, there’s still the possibility of something going wrong and it going all to hell,” Phil said as he added the ingredients and whether he was talking about baking or their work was anybody’s guess. Possibly both.
It’s Phil. Who the hell knows?
“And also like our work, not everybody’s cut out for it,” Phil said, dumping the last ingredient in. “Some people can bake but there’s no passion in it, and some people just.. Well… let’s just say there are people that begin cooking because they can’t bake to save their lives. I know a few of those.”
“You two are such girls.” Bobbi grinned at Nick and Phil. It was a sexist jab, but she expected to get flour thrown at her since she was just being an ass. To add to her sass, she pulled out her phone to take a photo of the two of them elbow deep in dough. “One for the records.”
Oh yes. She was definitely out of arm’s reach, thank you.
Nick frowned deeply. “Not cool, agent,” he said, shaking his head. Although he understood the need for blackmail, really, Bobbi? Really? He’d find a way to get back at her though. And she would pay, oh yes she would.
“You know, you could be helpful like someone else here. Remind me why you’re here again? It’s not because I actually like you.”
Of course it was because he liked her. He was starting to feel pretty relaxed, and enjoying himself. “What do you think, Coulson? You’ve worked with her longer than me. What’s an appropriate payback for her?”
“I like to think she’s here for her pretty face,” Phil said -- at the same time as he made sure he was well out of distance for anything Bobbi could do to him. Hey, one sexist remark deserved another, especially since they both knew he was well aware of the truth, damn it.
“But since we’re talking payback…” He tilted his head, looking at Bobbi thoughtfully. People -- well, most people, the ones who didn’t know him -- tended to get scared when he looked thoughtful. “Does the staff here actually have a uniform? Because there’s always making her hand out samples in an adorable little uniform.”
Notice he didn’t say “cute”, Bobbi. Notice he didn’t say “cute”.
Bobbi burst out laughing for the pretty face comment. She found it hilarious since Hunter used to tell people that she was satan with a pretty face. That was when they were still exes, but she enjoyed the reputation.
“Put me in a french maid costume with stilettos and fishnets and I’ll do it.” Bobbi smirked at the two of them as she winked. However, while they were still grubby with dough and flour, Bobbi tucked her phone into her cleavage as she began to edge her way toward the door.
“But you two have fun with your muck,” she said with a little wave. “I have photos to post. Stories to tell. Y’know. The usual.” Bobbi grinned then made a break for it.