"LATE AGAIN, LEGACY?"

Leo sighed as he slid into his swivel chair, running a hand through his windswept curls that had been trimmed down throughout the years, dropping his bag onto the floor next to him, booting up his computer. He ignored the all too familiar quip that had been a staple ever since he started working at S.H.I.E.L.D. a few years before, reaching into his bag and pulling out a pack of mints, tossing one into his mouth as he began to work.

The legacy joke had gotten old the minute it had been made, which was about a month into him getting the higher ranking position that had raised many eyebrows from the more seasoned agents. Once word got around that he was an Oberholt—as in descendant of one of the original S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and part of the long line of familial agents as a result—it didn't take long for people to begin to whisper, because what else was there to do at a high risk organization meant to protect the world than gossip about favoritism in the higher-ups?

Leo felt as though the treatment was something akin to the whispers and murmurs received by the hardworking, dedicated child of the school principal; he could only hope that they never find out who his father was.

Work wasn't all bad, though. After all, when his whole life revolved around eventually following in the footsteps of everyone in his family, there tended to be a safety at work, as ironic as it sounded. Of course, there was some resentment, but it wasn't as if he had any other aspirations separate from being an agent that he wanted to pursue.

Except maybe acting. He had been a rather well-rounded student back in high school, and the wrestling team coupled with familial bonding time helped him pass his field agent training faster than most agents, but when it came to the drama department, the only thing he had garnered from it was an ability to lie a little better, be more emotional, and listen to show tunes unironically.

Only one of those things was something his family found even remotely acceptable.

He sighed as he popped another mint into his mouth, going about his usual checks. He had been assigned to keep tabs on certain dark web organizations. Ever since Natasha Romanoff had released all the files to the press after the HYDRA Uprising, there was always a sense of unease when it came to what the public would do with that information, and he was there to make sure nothing worse came out of it.

Not that there were many things worse than Nazis, but one could never be sure when it came to the world.

The HYDRA Uprising had really made a dent in S.H.I.E.L.D. as a whole, and Leo could still hear his father rolling around in his grave. If his mother's reaction to Nazis infiltrating her beloved organization had been heart wrenching, he could only imagine his late father's.

It was due to his lineage that he had been able to maintain a job during the, for lack of a better word, peak of the uprising, as most non-HYDRA agents were flushed out, only ones that would raise heavy eyebrows were allowed to stay, and it seemed that he had qualified.

Many agents had refused to return back, too disillusioned and shook up, such as Maria Hill and Sharon Carter who had gone to work for Stark Industries and the CIA respectively. Some, like Leo himself, had chosen to stay with Director Coulson—it was strange to refer to him as such—and be a part of his newly reformed S.H.I.E.L.D., but many agents bitterly joked that S.H.I.E.L.D. was now filled with C-list jokes.

"There are still a few good ones," Leo always argued whenever he heard rumblings, but he would be dismissed with a scoff, a laugh, and some quip at his lineage and background, as if it had anything to do with his beliefs.

It did, but they didn't have to look too far back to find it.

"You okay?"

Leo jolted out of his thoughts to look over at Agent Langston who was looking at him quizzically. He gave the blonde a tooth-gapped smile and nodded, reaching out and popping another mint into his mouth, as the first one had melted already, which was truly a testament to how spaced out he was.

"Long night, Legacy?" Agent Madsen joked from where he was pressed up against the very side of the room.

Leo bristled under his question and took a deep breath. Madsen had been demoted from the clearance level he had been, which meant he was not only bitter, but he knew more about Leo than anyone else did, but instead of telling everyone, he kept it to himself, dangling it in front of him just enough to get a rise and remind him of his place, but never compromising his power by trying to share it with anyone else.

It was both brilliant and cruel.

"Oh, yeah. Long night baking pies with my mom," he grumbled, shaking his head; he hadn't been baking pies with his mother, but any reference to family members them shutting up rather quickly; the line was always drawn at mocking veteran agents, that was something no one dared to try.

Surely enough, Maden stayed quiet, going back to whatever work it was he did. Leo was slightly higher in rank than the other man was, despite being significantly younger, and he liked to attribute it to Madsen's demotion, though it being affected by his own strength as an agent would also be a nice ego boost.

Shaking off his thoughts one last time, he began to work, endlessly scrolling through site after site, pausing to jot down names or to investigate further, only to hit a dead end, so he went back to square one and repeated the process.

Many of the agents around him resented the work, hating how tedious and mind numbing the work was, wishing they could be doing more, that there was more to do, and while Leo did wish that he could be doing more to help the greater good, he was fine helping this way; if there was an active crisis that needed his attention, he would be antsy, but until then, he was fine where he was.

But it wasn't to say that he didn't get easily bored.

"Are you going to gorge yourself on mints?" Agent Langston asked, watching with worried eyes as Leo reached for yet another mint, finding himself falling out of his carefully placed rhythm.

Looking over to her, he raised his eyebrows. "Oh, did you want one? I also have jolly ranchers and lifesavers, if you want actual candy. And a bunch of cough drops."

Agent Langston blinked. "Are-are you okay?"

He laughed at that, grinning brightly, nose and eyes scrunching up at the question, the same way he always did since his sophomore year of high school when he started to develop the habit. It involved many factors, the two main reasons being his train wreck sicknesses and lingering coughs, as well as a close family friend, but it was always more exciting when he told the whole story.

"This is just a thing I do," he said, because the last thing he needed was to go into detail as to why having something in his mouth helped combat his ADD.

That appeased them enough, and he was left to his own devices, his stomach turning as he landed in the more disturbing of sites, exiting the moment he found that the lead he had been following was a dead end. At least, he hoped it was.

Before he knew it, he was being sent home, the thrum of his computer powering down, a black screen staring back at him, and he found himself staring at the reflection of a tired looking man, watching as the apathetic expression turned to one of surprise. He left the building in a rush, bag held close, falling out into the hustle and bustle of New York City.

He hadn't been in D.C. during the Uprising, which he liked to consider a stroke of luck, though he was on the Helicarrier to help the Avengers in Sokovia, and that he considered to be one of the most nerve-wracking, but rewarding instances in his incredibly young career.

That was less than a month ago. From what he knew, the Avengers were now in an upstate facility and were just trying to make it work, training the new crew while dealing with the loss of the old ones—he had been tasked with searching for the whereabouts of Bruce Banner, but after an initial sweep, he had been told to stop.

When he finally stopped thinking about all the tasks he had been given in the short years he had been with S.H.I.E.L.D., desperately trying not to think about how much responsibility had been given to him over seasoned agents, he found himself entering his apartment complex, fumbling with his keys at the door.

He blinked, pausing as he looked around, wondering how it was so easy for him to fall into autopilot and just go about without thinking; that was dangerous. Dangerous yet surprisingly common and, even worse, easy. That was something he had always been taught, never trust something that's easy.

Beating out the familiar voice of his father, Leo climbed up the stairs to his floor, giving a small, pursed lip smile to the people who passed by him, pressing himself up against the wall to let them pass with ease before high tailing it to his floor.

"Hi, Mrs. Shapiro," he greeted, pausing in front of his door, fumbling with his keys, smiling with the old woman who was holding her groceries in one hand and opening the door with the other, "Do you need help with those?"

"Do I need like I need help?" the woman scoffed, and he laughed, walking over to take the bags out of her hands, holding them in one arm.

He always liked his floor neighbor, she was one of his two ideal grandmothers, the other being the sweet one who always baked cookies and slid money into his pockets. Mrs. Shapiro was more like the spunky grandmother who wasn't necessarily rude, but didn't sugarcoat. The friend who went clubbing every weekend, but in the body of an elderly woman.

He needed to stop overthinking.

"Thank you," she said, taking the bags out of his arms and closing the door behind her, Leo waving to one of her grandsons that was playing with her kittens before the door shielded them from view.

Leo sighed shortly to himself, nodding, and headed back to his own door, stepping into his small apartment and stumbling to the small kitchen, pulling out leftovers and placing it into the microwave, heating it up and moving to sit at his small dining table that was a gift, not a choice of his own.

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the wood, one hand reaching into his bag and pulling out his laptop, pulling up a YouTube video on theories about an online alternate reality story that was told on social media.

He liked listening to fictional stories about scary events and circumstances, it helped him disconnect from the scary events and circumstances that happened more than he would like.

His phone buzzed and he picked it up, raising his eyebrows at the caller ID, a small smile playing on his lips.

'HAD A GOOD DAY, KID?'

Leo smiled wider and texted back, standing up to grab his leftovers, multitasking while trying not to bump into the counter or trip over his feet, sitting back down and reaching to grab a fork from his drawer.

'NOTHING NEW HAPPENED'

The reply was almost instantaneous and he laughed, taking a bite of his food, fidgeting with his laptop.

'SO A GOOD DAY.'

He laughed and typed back, 'YEAH, I'D SAY SO. WHY'RE YOU CHECKING IN?'

'CAN'T I CHECK IN WITH MY FAVORITE GODSON?'

'I CAN GO TO THE GYM EVERYDAY. DOESN'T MEAN I DO.'

'OKAY YOU LITTLE SHIT, IT'S PAST YOUR BEDTIME.'

'NIGHT UNCLE NICK.'

'GOODNIGHT LEO.'

Leo smiled and set his phone aside, continuing to watch the YouTube video, sitting in his small apartment that was still a little too big, eating his leftovers as he sat alone at a small dining table, the rest of the place plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the light in the kitchen and living area, and the light from his laptop.

An ordinary day. Nothing happened, but it was safe. That was good enough.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: MAY 12, 2018/REWRITTEN: JUNE 12, 2018

I feel a lot more comfortable with this set up, we actually learn more about Leo and while there was very little dialogue, you see just how in his head he lives, he doesn't have that many people to talk to to begin with. I'm so much more comfortable with this you have no idea.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!