Philinda Phone Calls-Bad Food: Chapter 1

Philinda Phone Calls

After the Academy, Before Bahrain

-Bad Food

rated: PG at most

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my poorly rendered ideas.  This is a non-profit, fan work.

A/N: I’m very sorry this is getting posted so late in the day.  I wasn’t aware it was supposed to go up at the start of the day. It’s Saturday where I am and I spent time with my husband instead of on the computer until this evening.  

***

May was laying in her bed, right at the edge, hand on the little garbage can so she knew where it was and just wanting the world to hold still for five god damn minutes.

So of course, her phone rings.

She left her eyes closed and felt around for the thing, knowing it was her SHIELD phone.  Oh well, better than her mother calling and asking how the mission went.

“Yes?” May tried to not sound unwell and failed.

“Hey, May, it’s me,” Coulson’s voice came through the other end.

“Oh, hi Phil,” May rubbed the bridge of her nose.  Why did being sick to one’s stomach come with a headache too?

“I heard what happened after the gala,” Phil sounded like he was fidgeting with a pen, “I was worried.”

“Phil, it’s food poisoning, not cyanide,” Melinda sighed.  She risked making herself dizzy and thus more queasy and rolled onto her back.  Thankfully the room only spun a little this time.

“I’m sure cyanide would have tasted better,” Phil commented and May swore he was smiling.

That made her frown more.

“Probably, but then it would have been quick,” Melinda breathed in and out through her mouth, smelling anything at the moment remotely strong sent her running back to the bathroom and someone was making Thai food down the hall.

There was a pause and May could practically feel Coulson’s frown through the phone line.

“I’m fine, just needing to stick close to the toilet for another day or two,” Melinda tried to reassure him.

“You need anything, Mel?” Phil asked, knowing the nickname bugged her but when he was worried he sort of defaulted to how they talked at the academy, “I could bring you some toast or ginger ale.”

“No, no please nothing,” Melinda felt the bile creep up her throat.

“Okay,” Phil was clicking the pen now instead of just tapping it.

After a few moments of silence, “It’s kind of you to want to come over, Phil, but really I’m not good company.”

“You’re always good company,” Phil’s mood picked up a little, “you were good company on the mission.”

“I hate undercover,” Melinda groused.

“But you looked all pretty,” Coulson tried again to sooth his best friend.

It was true, May had looked good.  While she never enjoyed dressing up for work, she had gotten to wear a very stylish black cocktail dress that was rather modest, if a little more leggy than she would have liked.  She’d worn dusty purple eyeshadow and a dark purple lipstick.  Just enough that the colors made her more noticed for being uncommon though not outrageous.

She’d had to attend an art gala, and it had to be her since the person they were trying to listen in on spoke mostly Mandarin.  It was just easier to have her go in and read the man's e-mails instead of having them copied then translated later.  Plus she could mingle a little.

Originally Phil was supposed to go with her but he got pulled away to assist another group and it was just her with backup outside.  To maintain her cover she’d nibbled a few hors-d'oeuvres and one, she was guessing the one with the shrimp she’d not overly liked, ended up giving her food poisoning, though thankfully after the mission.

“How do you know I was pretty?” May asked realizing Coulson hadn't been there.

“Well,” the sound of Phil dropping the pen could be distinctly heard, “I reviewed the report.”

May was silent.

“Okay okay, the footage from the garage was captured by SHIELD in case anything happened, so I watched a minute of it, I wanted to see you in the dress you’d had to buy,” Phil felt so busted.

Despite herself, May smiled, “You watched all that footage to catch a glimpse of me?”

“You hardly ever wear a dress,” Phil responded.

Melinda let herself chuckle a little, “I do so.”

“Not like that one,” Phil argued, though was sounding happier again, “it did look really good on you.”

“Glad the mission wasn't a complete failure,” Melinda teased a bit.

“I thought it was fine,” Phil responded then paused, “Oh you mean.”  

Melinda could almost see the tiny blush she’d gotten out of him.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Phil asked again.

“Right now, no,” Melinda promised, “maybe come by tomorrow with some crackers.”

“Sure,” Phil promised, “get some sleep, call if you need anything.”

“I will,” Melinda promised.

They said their good-nights and hung up.  May couldn't help but smile, maybe she was feeling better already.