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Just like every other person trying to find sanity these days, Coulson thought it would be fun to get Animal Crossing: New Horizons for the team.
He also thought it would be funny to name the island Triskelion.
It gets a chuckle out of him every time—an avatar Phil (suspiciously resembling Captain America) running freely around the Triskelion, collecting tree branches and wood instead of 0-8-4s and powered individuals.
The team watches, perplexed and a little amused, as Coulson hogs the Switch and the TV in the Playground’s recreation center day and night, only stopping for meals and for when his eyes got a little too heavy, for a good two weeks. At one point, Daisy even wonders aloud if Animal Crossing is this year’s alien writing.
“That’s classified, Agent Johnson,” he deadpans.
-
It’s Hunter who finally manages to pry the controllers off of him.
It’s a Sunday morning, and while he normally sleeps in on weekends, shelter-in-place measures have screwed up with his sleeping habits so he’s up earlier than usual. Shuffling groggily into the rec room to make some coffee, he observes the Phil on screen dropping a bunch of turnips onto the grass.
“Whassat all about?” he grumbles, shuffling over to the opposite end of the couch occupied by the other man.
“Turnips!” Coulson answers with child-like excitement, the way he usually does when someone asks him about the game. Which is to say, not often.
He launches into an explanation, and it sounds so much like he was briefing Hunter for a mission that it gets him awake more than the coffee does.
Two nights later, Hunter watches with rapt eyes as Coulson trades the turnips for a cool 2,046,000 bells to a pair of raccoons.
Coulson wakes up to his game the next day and sees a yellow tent pitched next to his house.
-
Surprisingly, even Bobbi gets in on it.
One evening, she’s snuggled next to Hunter as his character moves through the Triskelion—still a mess after Coulson finally unlocked terraforming and insisted on building waterfalls everywhere—headed towards the island’s lone airport with a Nook Miles Ticket in his inventory.
She knows he’s been aiming for the fabled tarantula island, and if she wasn’t partially invested in this endeavor herself, she’d be psychoanalyzing whether the money-making aspects of the game are Hunter’s way of telling her he misses being a merc.
(There’s more money in being a mercenary, sure, but S.H.I.E.L.D. has a lot of benefits, including an annual grocery basket for Christmas. With wine.)
“Not bloody bamboo island again,” Hunter’s disgruntled whine makes her look up from her own game of Two Dots on her phone, to see the TV screen filled with, indeed, bamboo trees.
Bobbi locks her phone and sits up with a grin. “Gimme,” she says, gesturing to the controller.
If Hunter’s confused, he’s too distracted by disappointment to ask her any questions, wordlessly handing her the controller and standing up to get a bottle of beer from the fridge.
After a minute of figuring out the controls, Bobbi has Hunter’s avatar chopping down trees and picking up weeds and flowers. Once the island was clear, it doesn’t take too long before a tarantula pops up.
“What the hell, Bob!” yelps Hunter with wide eyes as he sits down, gobsmacked, as his on-screen counterpart proudly shows off the creature she’s just captured.
Bobbi laughs triumphantly. “Tarantula island hack,” she explains. “One of the things I saw on the internet after that one time you searched for Animal Crossing cheats.”
(“No time traveling!” Coulson had threatened.)
For the next hour or so, they take turns capturing tarantulas, and Bobbi’s laugh every time he gets outsmarted by one makes him feel like his heart was going to burst from his chest, that he maybe, just maybe, allows his character to get stung every now and then.
-
Mack is incredulous.
Whether it’s because Bobbi and Hunter are now obsessed with the damn game or the fact that tools in the game easily break down is up for debate. Bobbi suspects the latter.
He’s third-wheeling the couple after dinner, setting down some beers on the coffee table in front of them before he kicks back and relaxes.
(He’s a little too aware of Elena having whiskey with May at the breakfast counter behind them, aware of her distinct voice filling the room—May doesn’t talk much anyway—but he’s trying to play cool.)
“They don’t even have shotgun-axes,” he protests as virtual Hunter’s axe poofs outs of existence.
The real Hunter chuckles as he passes the Joy-Cons to Bobbi for her turn. Between the two of them, they already have a house full of tarantulas awaiting Flick’s visit for maximum returns. He’s wanted to sell them already at Nook’s Cranny, but Bobbi always argues back that the 4,000-bell price difference is worth the wait.
Some things never change.
“Well, there’s a golden axe you can make and lasts twice as long,” explains Bobbi as she works on crafting a new axe. “But you gotta break a hundred of these first before you get one. Wanna help us out, big guy?”
It’s no shotgun-axe, but Bobbi offering him to play gives him an excuse to linger around, and at some point, a bittersweet thought comes to him: He would have been doing this with his daughter if she were still around.
Later on, long past Elena turns in for the night, it’s this thought that lets Mack easily give in to Bobbi and Hunter’s tipsy cajoling to create his own character. And while he doesn’t play as often as they do, he indulges every now and then, holding on to memories he knows he will never have.
-
“I didn’t think there was anything slower than you, Turtle Man,” teases Elena in her thick accent.
It’s one of those rare times Mack plays, rare enough for him to have an afternoon off as it is, and Elena has joined him without invitation, curled up in the armchair next to the couch he was sitting on.
She’s been doing this a lot lately, getting into his orbit, and if it were anyone else he’d be demanding personal space. But it’s Elena, and it’s only by sheer force of will that he’s still able to resist her.
(She is flirting with him, isn’t she? Or maybe that was all in his head, he’s not sure.)
The Mack-on-screen is moving through a virtual orchard, picking up peaches he’s chopped down from the trees (stone axe only; the regular one will actually cut the tree in half). He briefly focuses on the nearby pond, catching a koi fish and a loach (“It’s looking at me with reproach!”). A third catch by a river gives him a prompt his pockets are too full to take anything else, so he moves towards the upgraded Nook’s Cranny Coulson has unlocked for having 30 active days in the game.
He still can’t believe Coulson started all this.
The shop is on the other side of the island, and Elena is getting a little impatient. “Hit B to run faster!” she demands, and he’s surprised that actually works.
“How—how did you know?” sputters Mack in surprise as his character flits through the screen.
All Elena gives him is a wink.
-
Four stars? That’s unacceptable.
A rather cute puppy on screen is telling Coulson’s virtual self that the Triskelion’s rating is one star shy of the coveted five-star rating, and to say he’s livid is an understatement.
He huffs in frustration as he breezes past Isabelle’s dialogue, trying to figure out what he’s missed out so far. After weeks of playing, his island is impeccable, thank you very much. He’s terraformed the island to perfection, waterfalls strategically placed, with lots of lattice fences and outdoor furniture—mostly wood—artfully arranged.
(So maybe he sought the occasional advice from Rosalind, who apparently has an eye for these things in real life.)
There’s a public park, a zen garden, an outdoor gym, and even a Tiki-inspired restaurant, and if all that involved sacrificing three days and 150,000 bells to move his, Hunter’s, and Mack’s houses into a section of the island he’s delegated as the residential area, then it was all worth it.
Needless to say, it’s a magical place.
But for the life of him (and it’s his second one), he can’t quite figure out why he’s still missing a star.
It’s Fitz who finally gives him a lead, and no, Coulson is not ashamed to admit he turned to one of his resident scientists for help on this.
He does need a break from trying to find a cure for the pandemic, after all.
And the New York Times did just publish an article on Animal Crossing being the perfect way to spend quarantine.
“I think it’s the flowers,” says Fitz in his brogue after two hours of studious playing flew by so fast. “Maybe try planting some hybrid flowers?”
He spends another hour with Coulson, analyzing an optimal arrangement to grow some of the game’s rarer flowers, and when he leaves the older man to rejoin Simmons, he just might be slightly more relaxed than earlier that day.
They don’t leave the lab until half-past two in the morning, and while they’re tired and disappointed with running into a lot of dead ends, they’re still too wound up to go to bed.
Fitz pulls Jemma into the game room, pulls out the Switch from its dock, and settles with her on the couch. They keep the lights dim, though Jemma’s tired eyes shine with happiness as they wander through the in-game Museum.
It’s not quite a date, but it counts.
Two days later, Isabelle the Shih-Tzu finally gives Coulson that five-star rating.
-
“Move over, Animal Crossing!” proclaims Daisy, stepping into the rec room where Lincoln was waiting for her. “The big guns are here.”
She rips through the package in her hand to reveal a physical copy of the Final Fantasy VII Remake. His face is utterly clueless, though her excitement is contagious enough. “We didn’t have video games in Afterlife,” he explains with a shrug, which makes her eyes bug out a little.
“Well, you’re in for a treat,” she promises, face breaking out into a smile after booting the game into the team’s long-neglected PS4. “This one’s really good.”
Lincoln finds it a little hard to follow at first, though Daisy is a natural (“One of my better foster brothers taught me to play when it first came out,” she admits and his heart breaks a little.) and hours later he’s as engrossed as she is.
He’s still a little shy about trying out the game himself when she offers, but before she can wheedle him, May drifts into the room
“Ooh, is that the Final Fantasy Remake?” she asks after glancing at the screen, a hint of interest evident from her usual monotone. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Lincoln can wait another day, Daisy thinks, and grins at May. “You, really? I never pegged you to be the type.”
“I’m more of a Street Fighter girl myself,” answers May nonchalantly, heating water to make herself some tea. “But I’ve played Final Fantasy too.”
Thrilled at finding something in common with her S.O., Daisy beckons her over to join them and take over. The women make small talk, mostly comparing the original to this version, and while Lincoln could hardly relate, he’s perfectly content sitting there, adoring eyes occasionally flitting to Daisy from the screen.
He drapes his arm around the back of the couch right behind her, and May’s quick to notice the move even if the other girl doesn’t. Their eyes meet for a moment, then she nods (he thinks) before turning back to the game, and Lincoln lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.
Mom approves.
-
That’s where Andrew finds Melinda an hour after.
His gaze softens as he takes in his ex-wife (ex is completely debatable at this point), completely relaxed and happy, unwinding from the day with her protégé. Lincoln looks asleep next to Daisy, though his eyes slowly open at the sound of Andrew walking in. He waves a hand in greeting.
May turns around, eyes lighting up at the sight of Andrew in a way he never thought he’d see again.
Hi.
“Hello,” greets Andrew, taking a beer from the fridge before kicking off his shoes and sitting on the floor by May’s feet. He touches her knee briefly, she leans into him almost imperceptibly, and he begins a conversation with Daisy while May plays a little more (“Did you know she played video games?” “Yeah, Chun-Li was her main.”).
Sometime later, Andrew finishes his drink and May hands the controller back to Daisy with a thanks and a promise for another game. They bid the younger couple a good night and make their way to their room.
Once they were in private, Melinda finally allows a long-awaited kiss before Andrew moves to take a shower. Meanwhile, she digs into their bedside table and pulls out a mint-green Nintendo Switch Lite from the drawer, stretching out on their loveseat to resume the game she’s been playing.
“So when are you telling everyone you’re into Animal Crossing too?” teases Andrew after a few minutes, emerging from the bathroom in his pajamas.
“We’re not,” her tone is flat, but there’s a telltale upward curl on her lips that makes him laugh.
We. He likes the sound of that.
Andrew climbs into bed and settles down on his usual side before patting the empty space beside him. “Come home, Melinda,” his voice soft and fond.
And she does.