Five Times One of the Team Cooked the Team Meal

INTRO

Skye, clandestine Rising Tide Hacker, sat in the first 'team' meeting. The battered bus had been returned to its former glory after Coulson's ex (and what an obviously explosive, sex charged, tumulus relationship that had to have been, which raised AC's rep to sky high levels in her opinion)

"Since Skye has elected to join us, I've re-arranged the chores schedule," Coulson began as he began distributing hard copies. HARD COPIES, of their assignments.

"Excuse me, chores?" Skye interrupted. "And haven't you heard of e-copies? Save a tree?"

No one laughed so she bit her lip.

"The bus is a privilege, we need to keep it clean. Therefore everyone will be responsible for taking care of the various locations."

"I don't see your name on bathroom duty," protested Skye.

Coulson smiled a tight smile, which Skye recognized as Sister Michael Immaculate's 'don't push me, or you'll regret it, kid' smile.

"I clean my own area. Daily. That includes my shower and toilet."

"And what's this assignment, team meal?" Simmons asked. The other team members pipe in with their questions.

"Once a week, we will have a team meal, and one team member will do the cooking. I've decided that after recent events, it might be beneficial for the team to have dinner together once a week as opposed to waiting for the next time you need to blow up the bus." Coulson stopped and glared at each team member. "Speaking of which, there will be no more blowing up of the bus."

Skye quickly noticed that she wasn't the only one that didn't look thrilled with AC's idea. Her problem was simple, she didn't know how to cook and never really needed to do so. It was horrifying to be the only one that couldn't cook, and somehow serving everyone cereal wasn't gonna cut it. May would fling it in her face!

"Ward will be cooking for us on Saturday," Coulson announced.

WARD

Coulson was sitting in his office when Ward knocked on the door.

"Enter," he announced.

"Sir, this cooking thing," Ward began.

The pen is placed just so, and Coulson looked up at his specialist.

"Let me guess, you're a lone wolf chef? You cook alone?" Coulson dryly asked.

"This team meal idea," Ward once again interjected.

"I understand your former SO Garrett is a firm believer in food trucks," Coulson interrupted. "It could explain why they nearly grounded him on his last physical. His new specialist, Trip, is a vegan."

"Sir," Ward continued.

"LDL was almost 300," Coulson explained. "Naturally, I'm concerned about yours as it was a little high on the last exam. Plus, you need to immediately cease the Lone Wolf routine."

Ward still didn't look convinced, so Phil laid it on the line.

"Yes, it's an order." He looked down, as Ward has been dismissed but he looked up when he realized that Ward hadn't left.

Ward looked nervous, which was a reassuring change from cocky, self-assured, smug. Damn shame the full head of hair was unaffected.

"Sir, I can't cook. At all." Ward slowly admitted.

Good God, Grant Ward was thirty something years old and he didn't know how to cook? Didn't Ward know that the best date was to cook a meal for your lover and drink lots and lots of wine? If Ward couldn't cook, the entire team might end up in The Hub suffering from food poisoning.

"I'll show you how to make Ricotta Gnudi with Pomodoro Sauce. Even a tyro can't screw that up. Salad, garlic bread, maybe strawberry panna cotta for dessert. Meet me on Saturday at two, we'll need to go to market."

"Market?" Ward repeated. "We don't have what we need on the bus?"

"We'll be in Italy. You can't make Italian food in Italy using processed cheese. It's a crime against nature," Coulson advised. "You need to food shop, Ward."

SATURDAY

Ward in tow, Coulson attacked the local farmer markets like he was on a mission. Cheeses are smelled, pinched and tasted. Basil is examined and crushed between his fingers and Old Italian grandmothers are flirted with in a noble yet failed attempt to steal their secret, sacred recipes. After Ward admitted that one cheese tasted much like another, his role is changed from fellow taster to delivery boy by a horrified Coulson. Whatever Coulson purchased, Ward is required to carry.

And the wine is decided upon by Phil and Ward is not permitted a taste as his palate has been deemed lacking.

Fortunately, everyone has vacated the bus by the time the two men returned. The items are unpacked and Coulson inspected the produce once more. The inspection completed, he picked up a tomato after he poured himself a glass of wine.

"This is a tomato," Phil explained before he picked up a small white bulb. "This is garlic. Do not confuse the two."

The effort isn't even attempted to hide Phil's smirk.

"Sir," protested Ward.

"Just wanted to clear up any possible misunderstandings as we want this edible," Phil insisted before he savored a sip of wine.

Under Coulson's expert tutorage, Ward mixed, diced, slice and minced. A few of the more complicated culinary feats required Coulson to take over to prevent a dining disaster, but Ward was surprised to realize that cooking was rather relaxing. Plus it gave him a chance to talk with Coulson about something that wasn't SHIELD related.

The two agents chatted about the strange world of sautéing, how best to crush a garlic bulb with a knife blade, Italian operas that Coulson had seen and the arcane difference between sea salt and kosher salt. Should red pepper be added or would that disturb Fitz's Scottish sensibilities? Meanwhile, nothing is measured by Coulson. It seemed that he was an artist as there are drips and drabs, pinches and shakes while Ward is ordered to measure everything twice.

"I pulled two Italian Chiantis for dinner. All you need to do now is cook the meal, and plate it. You should be able to handle it," Coulson announced.

Ward was confused so Coulson sighed, "You put a lot of effort into this meal. Don't serve it on paper plates. You will pour the wine and grate the cheese for the team. Do not serve the Kraft Grated Parmesan Cheese."

Ward protested but Coulson realized it was done more of out a need to protest, to keep his Lone Wolf status intact than a real protest. Poor Little Lone Wolf Ward was being assimilated into Team Coulson.

"Ward, good china and silverware."

DINNER

Dinner is served and the team oo'd and aww'd over the experience. Coulson unbent enough to explain that in Italian, "gnudi" means exactly what it sounds like in English: naked. The gnudi are little pasta-like dumplings that are "naked" of their pasta wrapper, sort of like raviolis without anything to enclose them.

And the strawberry dessert is delicious and combined with the perfect wine, Skye hasn't eaten such a delicious meal ever.

So, she offered a Skye toast, "To RoboAgent. Who would have thought that you could cook naked pasta so well?"

Glasses are clinked, comments are exchanged and Ward just smiled and completely failed at looking modest.

AFTERS

Coulson is pleased as team meal night has segued into team game night. It seemed that his idea of team bonding has gone over quite well. However, instead of joining the game, he returned back to his office and picked out a book to read.

He's interrupted by a knock on the door, so he informed whomever it was to enter. It's Jemma Simmons and she looked worried. Worried as 'Oh no, the lab exploded!'.

Oh God, what now?

"Is there a problem?" He asked.

"Sir!" Jemma explained. "I can't cook! How can I possibly follow Ward's meal?"

"Simmons, you're an expert in biochemistry. Cooking is just an artistic form of biochemistry," Phil protested.

His reassurance doesn't help. In fact, Jemma's expression turned despairing.

"I burn water," Simmons whispered. "How can I hope to complete with naked pasta?"

Oh dear God, Team Meal Night was turning into a major production.