Flirtation [flur-tey-shuh-n]: Behavior that demonstrates a sexual attraction to someone.
Behavior that arouses sexual feelings or advances without emotional commitment.

This was it. This was how I was going to die. No matter how much I'd prepared for this moment, no matter how much I'd trained and practiced, nothing could prepare me for the fear that welled up in my chest when faced with reality. I wasn't going to make it. A silence fell ominously, drowning out everything but my thundering heartbeat. There was no going back. No escape. The spotlight flooded the stage and I looked up with a snap.

FITZ

We shouldn't have been so hard on Hunter. I know that now. I suppose I can chalk it all up to excess nerves with having been put in that situation to begin with... but it was just so easy at the time. One thing has become abundantly clear through this whole fiasco: Karma really is a cruel Bitch.

"So you're all oiled up then?"

"What?"

"You're oiled up? For your big show?" I leaned back against the bar with my arms crossed, trying hard, I'd like to think, to keep my smug grin to myself.

"Can't hear you mate, music's too loud!"

Simmons caught my eye and she tossed me a rag with a grin. Hunter was obviously dodging the question. We knew he'd packed enough baby oil to get an elephant slick.

"Great costume, sexy!" Simmons leaned across the bar, close enough that he had no reason to pretend he couldn't hear her. "It's really caught your essence. All that glitter is just so you, babe."

Hunter slammed his empty glass down on the counter and stood. "One, it's not glitter, it's a manly metallic accent," he adjusted his glitter-lined vest. I slipped Simmons a high-five. "Second, I do look rather dashing, thank you. You should be so jealous," he glanced down smugly at Simmons and my far simpler outfits. We were bartenders. Nothing outrageous about it. Unlike Hunter.

"Absolutely," Simmons grinned. "Bobbi must be beside herself. Don't know how she's letting you get up there in front of everyone."

"Anything for the team," Hunter brushed off. "I think she's more excited to see what I accomplish with that pole."

We both rolled our eyes. "Didn't Dixie day that was for the more advanced-"

Hunter shot me a look of outrage, and we both bit back our grins. "I just feel sorry for you two, really," Hunter retorted. "Stuck behind this tiny bar all night. Madwomen crowding from all sides. It's going to be absolute mayhem, you realize. I doubt you'll be able to keep up with it all."

Simmons and I exchanged a look again. Poor Hunter.

"Us? Keep up?" Simmons raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't think that will be a problem."

"No?" He looked suspiciously between the two of us, slowly, thinking of how to catch us at our own game. "Long Island Iced Tea on the rocks with a twist," he barked, starting his watch.

I immediately reached out and flipped a wet glass from the counter, tossing some ice into the bottom as Simmons spun around and pulled a pair of bottles off the rack. She slipped them around her back, turning around just in time to pour the steady streams of liquid into the glass as I slid it into place across the counter. Quick as a flash, I sliced a lime in a perfect curl and slipped it onto the edge of the glass while Simmons finished up and presented the cup to Hunter with a flourish. He took a sip and stopped the clock. Simmons and I gave each other a high-five without looking.

"Impressive," he sniffed.

"Fitz and I went through the entire handbook last night as a refresher," Simmons crowed. Seriously, she simply lit up at the prospect of homework, even when it should have been fun. I chose to ignore the way Hunter raised his eyebrows at me. If there had been anything to tell from a night of cocktails with my partner, he would already know. Simmons and I were far too versed around alcohol for that to ever have an effect on our relationship. I had tested this theory for years. Years.

Simmons barreled on excitedly, oblivious to Hunter's little look. "We mastered all the possible cocktail combinations at the academy, but it never hurts to re-master an old skill," she stuck her nose in the air.

It's true. Back at the academy she and I had a brief stint as bartenders at the Boiler Room. She'd insisted it would be an easy way to get some extra spending money while basically conducting chemistry experiments. We quickly realized that we didn't have nearly enough time to cover all the shifts and graduate early, though.

"Go on, give us another," Simmons chirped, almost too eagerly. I put a hand on her shoulder to settle her. She glanced back at me, catching my eye for a moment, then rested back on her heels to keep from bouncing. I paid no attention to the jolt of electricity that shot through my hand where I touched her. I had to remember to stop doing that.

Hunter shook his head at us, amused, and slurped loudly on his straw. "Well, at least that's one small glimmer of hope to be had for this little adventure," he stood and surveyed the club.

"And what's that?"

"You two really need to get laid," he laughed. Simmons dropped her mouth open in disgust. "What better place than a male strip club, eh?" Hunter lifted his glass to cheers us and walked away.

Simmons turned to me and huffed.

"Nah, he's just jealous," I said quickly, before she could go on another tirade about Hunter's manners. I wasn't really in the mood to hear it right now. He wasn't wrong.

"Without question," Simmons picked up a glass and gave it a thorough wipe. "At least our skills are transferable."

I didn't know what to say to that. I shook my head, realizing I'd been watching her attack that cup a little too closely. While our outfits were simple in comparison to Hunter's, she managed to look fantastic in hers. It highlighted more of her curves than I had ever really noticed before… And I was a professional that needed to focus, not a lovesick ape with a wandering mind. I turned to adjust the equipment beneath the bar.

Our latest mission had brought us to Big Dixie's, a relatively well-known male strip club. We were tracking down a Hydra Agent that had a thumb-drive database of all former Shield Agents and their whereabouts. We didn't know what the agent looked like, but the chatter Daisy had picked up pointed to this club as a popular point of contact for her. Of course. Why stick with the old abandoned warehouse standby when you could get a show? I almost envied the Hydra Agent's bravado. But when a half-naked man built like Adonis sauntered by the bar, Simmons and my heads both followed him as one. Almost envied the Agent's bravado. I crossed my arms.

Simmons and I were positioned as bartenders in order to monitor the surveillance tech up close. Hunter had happily volunteered to pose as one of the "dancers" in order to get close enough to identify and tag the agent with the help of Bobbi, who would be in the audience. It was meant to be a quick and easy job, so we had a pretty small team assembled.

The owner of the club was in on our sting. Dixie, an old friend of May's, oddly enough, was a firecracker who'd been in this business longer than I had been alive. She took one look at Hunter and gave him a headlining dance. He must have had the confidence she was looking for or something - not that I was jealous about being passed over as the only other male on the mission, mind you. I just assumed he would be a bartender with me, and Simmons and Bobbi would pose as audience members. I was glad that Simmons and I ended up behind the bar together though. She could get pretty uppity about this sort of place, but something about the prospect of watching her even pretend to get excited at the show sent my stomach churning. As it was, we were probably both happy that she was distracted with creating drinks. Adonis still received a healthy dose of death-glares to be safe.

I'd been acutely aware of my feelings growing for Simmons for some time now. It was inconvenient is what it was. Who knows why these things happen? One day you're side by side with your pal, happy as can be, then suddenly everything changes. Suddenly your heart leaps at the sight of her. Every time she places a hand on your shoulder, your skin burns like fire.

Ignoring it was the best medicine, I've found. It's what worked best with all the other little crushes I'd had over the years. Wait long enough without any encouragement, and the feelings will subside and go back to normal. Unfortunately, Simmons and I were having far too much contact in the field, far too many near-death experiences. She still had shown absolutely no interest in me that way, and even with our increasingly prolonged separations and disagreements, my feelings weren't going away. I was in trouble and I knew it.

"Hey Tiger," a short red-head popped up at the bar, interrupting my musings. She had a cheap glittery tiara on her head that read Bride to Be. She leaned over the counter to speak above the club's music. We were between dances at the moment. "Can I get a round of Amaretto Sours?"

It took me a moment to catch up to what she was requesting, but Simmons, overhearing like the professional she was, immediately spun around and grabbed a few glasses. So I went for the bottles. We did our thing, but when we placed the drinks on the counter for her, the red-head didn't grab them right away. She grinned up at me. I grinned back, happy to earn a tip or two during our shift. Then, to my immense surprise, she reached over the counter with a devilish grin and tucked a few bills soundly into the front of my trousers. I didn't have time to do anything but gape down at the money sticking up from my pants. Her hands lingered for just a few moments, and she gave me a wink before hopping back down. "That's just for you Tiger," she grinned and spun away.

I was in shock. If I'm being honest, I found it very difficult to form thoughts after that. I'd never had anyone do anything remotely like that to me before and, well. I'm a man. It was sexy. Forgive my biology.

I stood there blinking until I was able to look up at Simmons. Her mouth was equally agape, but she closed it quickly and nodded at me with approval.

"Might as well put it in the pot," she shrugged. "We both earned that tip."

Sighing internally, I shut my eyes and tenderly untucked the bills from my waist. Of course, one of the hottest things to ever happen to me, and Simmons was completely unaffected. Naturally. Yet another reason for me to give up hoping for something to happen there. If only the rest of my body could agree with that logic.

The red-head was apparently just the start of it. The rush of women had begun to crowd behind the bar, and I didn't have much more time to pout over how Simmons may or may not have reacted for the thousandth time. The swarm pushed forward, thrusting money at us in a giddy frenzy. Simmons and I looked at each other. We were prepared for this. And like everything we put our minds to, Simmons and I were exceptional bartenders.

When the music eventually turned up again, the crowd thinned as the ladies grabbed their seats. Bobbi was situated in the audience close to the stage so she could get the best view. Simmons nudged my arm. We had our duties to perform during the show, naturally, with detectors and the like. But mostly we needed footage. Neither of us were going to miss Hunter's humiliation. We needed to get as much footage of this as possible banked for later and inevitable blackmail purposes.

The lights dimmed. The music hummed to life. The spotlight flooded the stage. And then there was Hunter in all his bedazzled glory.

Girl Look at That Body,
Hunter struck a pose.

Girl Look at That Body,
He untucked his shirt from his trousers and shot the crowd a cheeky smile.

Girl Look at That Body,
The first button was off. He thrust his hips.

I work out!
He ripped the shirt open with an audible *thwip*.

When I walk in the spot, this is what I see.
Apparently Hunter could Moon-walk. He raised his arms, hyping up the audience.

Everybody stops and they staring at me.
He did a body roll, rubbing his hands down his bare chest to cover his crotch.

I got passion in my pants and I aint afraid to show it…
He paused, then threw his shirt off into the crowd. Bobbi casually throttled a woman and grabbed it. Cheering. The prefect cover.

I'm sexy and I know it!

Hunter was off, running around the stage, gyrating his hips in different directions, throwing winks and teases out to the screaming women who responded by throwing dollar bills up at him. He was loving it.

"You know, that requires far more athleticism than we give him credit for," Simmons cocked her head to the side. Hunter being good at this really shouldn't have been surprising. He knew just how to milk the crowd into a frenzy. With each hit of the beat, he thrust his pelvis or did some fancy dance move. It was pretty entertaining. He was clearly having a great time, and so was Bobbi, who started whooping when her ex-husband singled her out and climbed off the stage towards her. "I mean, think of the endurance needed to maintain the pelvic gyration at such a speed as to actually appear attractive..."

"It's simple physics, Simmons," I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. "At the right angle, anyone with minimal abdominal strength could manage something like that."

"Oh and I suppose you could too, could you?" She turned to face me.

I coughed. "Well, in theory, I suppose yes. I could," I ducked my head to check the surveillance monitors so she couldn't see my face. "What are you implying?"

Simmons took a moment before responding. "Five bucks says you couldn't." I paused what I was doing and turned to stare at her. Should I feel offended by that challenge, or aroused? She pushed on. "Like everything else, I was partnered with you at the academy during our dance elective, Fitz," she needled. "I know what you're working with."

I took a deep breath. We were back in the safe waters of our usual banter. "That was a long time ago, Jemma," I stood to defend myself. "And I'll have you know, we both passed the dance elective at the top of our class, thank you very much."

"No thanks to you!" She put her hands on her hips. "If we hadn't been partnered together and I hadn't insisted on late-night rehearsals, you would have brought us both down to your level."

"My level was both cultured and elegant," I countered. "None of your by the book nonsense."

"Well that's beside the point. Ballroom dancing is very different from this. This has far less rules I'd imagine..."

"You're the one that wouldn't be able to handle it," I grumbled.

Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle, yeah!

We both turned at the sound of particularly loud screams by the stage. Hunter was down to a thong and was standing on Bobbi's chair, shaking his rear in her face to the music.

"Oh, goodness," Simmons gasped and turned away. "Looks like they've quite got the hang of this!"

I probably should have turned away too. The whole thing had become more intimate than needed an audience. He slid down to her lap and started rolling his hips against her. She squealed with delight. Lord praise the woman for being such a professional. I have no doubt she was continuing to case the joint through all of this, but it was distracting enough for me. I couldn't look away. I mean, I'm no pervert or anything - and absolutely not as far as Hunter's concerned. It was... well, honestly, my mind kept throwing myself into the same scenario... with Simmons.

Every time he moved his hands through her hair, stroked the side of her hip, every time she threw her head back in delight… it wasn't Bobbi and Hunter I was seeing. It was Jemma and... me. What noises would she make if those were my hands? Would she bite her lip if I rolled against her?

I took a steadying breath and risked a look over to where Simmons was adjusting the knobs of the equipment. Fantasies were cruel sometimes. How could she stand there next to me looking like that? How could I stand there and even think of myself with my partner, let alone being in a situation like that with her? I cleared my throat, starting to feel overheated. There wasn't enough space back here. I needed a moment to clear my head.

"I, uh, I'm going to go grab some extra ice from the back room," I rushed off without a backward glance.

This was getting to be too much. How was I supposed to constantly be around her if my mind kept wandering like this? We had a mission, for God's sake. Lives depended on us. All I could picture was how she would react under my hands… What the dip of her waist would feel like... What her lips would taste like… I threw myself into the back room and I pounded my fist against the wall. I needed to get a grip.

"Hey man, this private spot is taken," a low voice echoed from the shadows. "Don't whip anything out or nothing."

"Sorry," I mumbled, straightening. "Didn't know anyone was back here."

A tall muscular man stepped out, apparently attempting to dust himself with body glitter. "You're here with that chick bartender right?"

"Yeah, she's, ah, she's my partner," I breathed. I needed to get out of there and find a new room to be alone.

"Figures," he shrugged. "Dixie rarely lets chick bartenders into the joint unless she's got a good reason. Watching the two of you, looks like you've really got something."

"Yeah," I shook my head. "We're a good team."

"So how long you two been married?"

I coughed and stared at the man. "What? No, no no, we're not m – why would we- that's not what-"

"Relax, my mistake man," he chuckled, rubbing some glitter over his chest. "You two just got a good comfortable rhythm." I pursed my lips together in response. "So not married then?" He raised an eyebrow. I shook my head firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. "You've gotta at least be hitting that though, right?"

"Definitely not," I croaked, trying my best to look indignant.

"So you swing for the other team then?"

"N-N- That's not even-!" This was getting ridiculous. I needed to get out of there. I should probably get back to Simmons and the equipment by now.

"Nah worth a shot. I'm Angel by the way," he offered a hand.

I sighed and stepped forward to return the shake, feeling trapped. "Fitz."

"So, Fitz... Don't mind me prying, but you seem awful pissed," he gestured to the wall that I had just become acquainted with.

"No, sorry, it's nothing," I ducked my head. "Sorry to disturb you. Carry on with your, er..." I gestured to the glitter, "or whatever."

"Dude, no. We look out for our own here," Angel put himself between me and the door. "If you're not on, the team's not on. What's got you off?"

"Er, well, I..." The man stared at me, refusing to let me pass unless I fessed up. I shook my head again and shrugged. "I-It's her. I suppose." I rubbed the back of my head absently, not sure what to say. "She- Simmons. She and I- Well, we… And ever since…"

"Oh man, stop!" Angel chuckled knowingly. "Say no more, I know exactly what you mean." He placed a glittering sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "Let me give you the one piece of advice that I give all our new dancers," he said. "You're always gonna question yourself on the inside," he placed his other hand on my chest. "But if you keep focusing on you and don't make it about her, you're never going to get a tip."

I sighed. "That's not the problem. She just doesn't see me that way."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"Well, I…"

"Let's take that as a no," Angel made a face and lightly punched me on the arm. "If you don't know for sure, then you haven't been taking the right risks."

His advice was coming from a good place, but I still felt appropriately uncomfortable standing alone in a back room with a glittery male stripper who had his hands on me. How was I going to get all this glitter off?

"Maybe I-"

"No maybes" he held a finger in front of my face. "Tonight you put the moves on her. See what comes of it. If you get a bite, great. But if not, no harm no foul. Then you'll be able to move on, right?"

"But I-"

"No buts, man. Just do us all a favor and go for it," he winked. "For the team." Angel gave me a firm pat on the ass then floated out of the room as though he'd solved world hunger.

I sighed. This night was almost over. With any luck we'd be back at the base bright and early tomorrow. Back in a normal setting with normal risks where things didn't constantly catch me off guard.

SIMMONS

I was appropriately offended when we were first given the parameters for the mission. A strip club? Of all the demeaning, deplorable forms of human entertainment we've had to suffer through, this must by far have been the lowest. Though if I'm being completely honest, I was a bit thrilled - especially when it turned out to be a male strip club we would be stationed at.

My life has not been sheltered by any stretch of the imagination, but attending a strip club was one of the few badges of honor I had never had the privilege of partaking in up to that point. I had a general idea of what to expect from films and the like, but even then I don't think I was fully prepared for what was to come.

The first night, everything went according to plan. At least to start. I had happily dressed for the occasion in my most flamboyant dotted shirt and a flashy red blazer that matched Fitz's. But when we knocked on her motel door to head over to the club, Bobbi took one look at us, and simply said: "No."

"But we match!" I explained, hoping she'd see reason. "We're supposed to be a bar-tending duo," I pointed to our matching blazers. "Is red not a sexy enough color? I told you we should have gone with magenta, Fitz."

"I'm not running around wearing hot-pink, Simmons," he hissed. "A man has to maintain some dignity!" I snorted.

Bobbi merely raised an eyebrow at us as she rifled through Hunter's bags. "Fitz - here, put this on and roll up the sleeves," she tossed him a black button-up. "Now Simmons…" she rounded on me and sighed. I felt particularly self-conscious under her scrutiny. She looked back at Fitz and Hunter wearily. "We'll have to meet you there."

That wasn't intimidating. I've always been rather proud of my style choices. A little daring, perhaps, but always professional. My wardrobe would never pass approval for typical lab standards, but I had decided that adaptability to my surroundings was the better choice when I'd begun working in the field. Professionalism in context is equally as important.

"Is there a problem?" I asked when it was just us girls.

Bobbi was pulling things out of her bag and eyeing me. "You didn't happen to pack a push-up bra, did you?"

"What possible purpose would I have for such an uncomfortable contraption?"

"It's fine," she replied. "Just put on another regular one then so you're wearing two. Good enough in a pinch."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Jemma, trust me, you're not wearing that to a strip club," she gestured to my blazer specifically. "You'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"But I'm only the bartender. At a male strip club," I pointed out. "I hardly think anyone will care what I'm wearing."

"Seriously?" She looked at me dryly. "You don't think anyone will be ogling you behind that bar? Anyone at all?"

I shrugged. Bobbi rolled her eyes patiently. "At the very least, it's a place teeming with other women. Did you miss high school or something?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"You know what? Silly question," she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just change into these quickly and then we'll deal with your hair." She thrust a rather small pile of clothes into my hands.

Deal with my hair? I held up the short black skirt in disbelief. It was more of a belt than anything. There was no way it was going to cover me properly. I opened my mouth to protest, but Bobbi shot me a firm look. "And don't forget to put your other bra on."

About half an hour later, Bobbi had managed to squeeze me into her version of what a female bartender at a male strip club should be wearing. Needless to say I was both chilly and finding it difficult to breathe. It was a small mercy that my shoe-size was much smaller than hers so that she couldn't force me into the monstrously tall heels she had intended for me. I was wearing far too much makeup and my hair felt like it had been sprayed into place after going through a wind-tunnel. But I will say this: my boobs never looked better!

I absently tried to pull the skirt down a bit. That did very little, so instead I reached to do up a few buttons on my shirt - but Bobbi swatted my hand away quickly.

"Hey, hands off," she scolded. "You're blending in."

Blending in. I smiled apprehensively. My mother used to say that to me when she was trying to convince me to dress a little more daringly for school. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was very glad my mother wasn't there to see this version of blending in.

We arrived at the club later than I would have liked. When we walked through the door, Hunter gave a loud, piercing whistle of approval. I felt the rush of heat creep up my neck, which nicely counteracted the cool breeze biting at my uncovered skin. I pasted a smile on and tried to avoid making eye contact with Fitz. Hunter was just being rowdy for Bobbi.

"Simmons, you clean up nice!" He howled. "Hold on, no. There's not much clean about any of that, eh Fitz?"

I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously until I caught Fitz' expression. I followed his gaze down, then quickly dropped my arms to my sides. Apparently that position only managed to accentuate my assets. I'd have to remember not to cross my arms.

"Well that's certainly... different than we'd planned," Fitz said quietly, frowning.

I tucked a strand of my massive hair behind my ears and tried to push the skirt down to no avail. "That's kind of the point, Fitz." I marched behind the bar, extremely aware of his eyes following me. "We're blending in," I picked up a rag to wipe the counter. "Besides, it's nothing compared to Hunter!"

Fitz considered, then cocked his head to the side. He took in Hunter's outfit properly, and after a beat, a devilish grin crept up his face. He glanced over at me to make sure I was playing along.

"So you're all oiled up then?"

When Fitz turned on him, I let out a breath of relief. I had successfully diverted the attention away from me and my ridiculous costume. So then why was I feeling less than pleased?

"Great costume, sexy!" I leaned across the bar, paying strict attention to where I angled my chest. "It's really caught your essence. All that glitter is just so you, babe."

Fitz carried on expertly as I puzzled over his reaction to what I was wearing. I don't know why, but it was honestly starting to bother me. I'd been starting to feel powerful and sexy before seeing his face. Now I wasn't so sure. Was it all a bit much? I trusted Bobbi's judgement in these matters, but I didn't want Fitz thinking of me any differently... Right?

When Hunter challenged us to make him a drink with our newly perfected bar-tending skills, I was happy for the focus to be on that. Something to do! I've always got a particular thrill from working in tandem with Fitz, but as soon as he grabbed the glass from the counter, I knew it felt different than what we'd practiced last night. It felt different from any other night before, for that matter. I was overly aware of where my hands were, of where Fitz was standing in the small space behind the bar. Did I suddenly not trust him? That couldn't be it. Where we were normally seamless, I was pausing at odd moments while his back was turned. I nearly dropped one of the liqueur bottles as I spun it around my back like we'd practiced thousands of times. What had changed? These were the very same steps.

I finally presented the glass to Hunter, saving it at the last minute from a disastrous fumble. Fitz gave me a supportive high-five. Hunter raised an eyebrow.

"Impressive," he said suspiciously. He hadn't noticed anything off too, had he?

"Fitz and I went through the entire handbook last night as a refresher," I explained, afraid that Hunter would comment on the slight pauses in my usually seamless workflow. "We mastered all the possible cocktail combinations at the academy, but it never hurts to re-master an old skill," I went on, hoping that this was a decent explanation as to why I might be a bit off. "Go on, give us another," I challenged, eager to test my skills again.

Before Hunter could name another drink, Fitz put a hand on my shoulder in our universal signal for the other to tone it down. I hadn't realized I was going off about it all. Another anomaly! My self-awareness was not up to my usual standards. As if on cue, I became suddenly very conscious of where Fitz's hand touched my shoulder. There was a sort of stillness - which had always been there I suppose, but it was newly accompanied by a sort of heated energy. I turned to look at him quickly. Did he feel that too? What was going on?

"You two really need to get laid," Hunter snickered.

My mouth fell open. He had noticed! Oh God. But that couldn't be the reason - of all the vulgar assumptions to jump to. This was workplace harassment is what it was! He had no business in our personal lives. Jokes like that were in extremely poor taste, especially considering our current surroundings! I turned to Fitz in a huff and was about to vocalize my disapproval when I realized how uncomfortable he looked. Poor Fitz was redder than the grenadine bottle. I blinked and remained silent.

"Nah, he's just jealous," Fitz muttered.

"Without question," I agreed. I decided this was no time to further investigate the inconsistencies in my performance, or the strange sensation his touch had caused. We had a mission to do, and I was a professional. "At least our skills are transferable," I said casually as though nothing was wrong. Whatever was going on with me, I would make sure the mission was a success first and foremost.

I tried to prepare myself for the onslaught of women, but was surprised that only one young bride-to-be sauntered up to the bar to start. I smiled and asked how I could assist her, but she ignored me completely. At first I thought she must not have heard me over the loud music, so I moved closer and tried again. She glared at me, then locked her eyes on my oblivious partner.

"Hey Tiger," she drawled, finally catching Fitz' attention. He snapped his head up with big dopey eyes. She positioned herself over the counter strategically to accentuate the swell of her breasts in her skimpy top. Well, honestly! "Can I get a round of Amaretto Sours?"

She was flirting with him! A bride out at a strip club, flirting with the wait staff! I was astonished. Was there no such thing as loyalty anymore? What was her future husband doing right this moment while she was smiling and giving Fitz their hard-earned wedding money?

I was already prepared with the glasses, so I began making the drinks. Fitz finished off with our practiced flourish. The Bride fluttered her overly made-up eyes at him, continuing to ignoring me. That alone was enough to set me on edge - but then, bold as you please, the girl leaped up on the counter and forced a couple of bills into the front of Fitz's trousers.

All I could do was stare in shock. I had to quell the sudden instinct to slap this young tart away from him. Who was she to touch Fitz like that? She was to be a married woman! Luckily my SHIELD training took over, and I took a steadying breath. We were undercover, and this was normal behavior for an institution of ill-repute. I counted to ten, and she sauntered off, overly pleased with herself.

"Might as well put it in the pot," I said as calmly as possible. My hands were shaking. "We both earned that tip!"

It wasn't until that moment that I realized we probably should have stayed back at the Motel to do surveillance. There was no real need for us to be on location, and Fitz just wasn't ready for the type of clientele that would approach us. The sooner this mission was complete, the better. As more women swarmed up to the bar and ogled Fitz for their drinks, I found myself actually looking forward to getting back to the simplicity of powers and supernatural occurrences.

When Hunter's performance began, it wasn't surprising to me that he would pull off the strip tease with such gusto. He was clearly enjoying the attention, and Bobbi seemed pleased that he, in turn, directed a lot of his attention to her. I found myself staring at them with a mixture of awe and… something I couldn't identify.

I cleared my throat when he ripped off his shirt, and did my best to change the subject. I'm not entirely sure that I succeeded. I blame the tight top Bobbi had squeezed me into for cutting off oxygen to my brain. It was oddly hard to breathe. I'm afraid I may have begun babbling in an attempt to neutralize the situation. I vaguely realized partway through that I appeared to be challenging Fitz to do a lap dance with as much prowess. What was I saying?

Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle, yeah!

We both spun around at the sound of particularly loud screams. Hunter was standing on Bobbi's chair, shaking his rear in her face to the music. The crowd was loving it.

"Oh, goodness," I gasped and turned away to busy myself with the monitors. "Looks like they've quite got the hang of this!"

Fitz stared, dumbfounded, and I had to agree that it was oddly difficult to focus on the task at hand. I kept glancing over at Fitz to make sure he was okay. After a few minutes, he made some silly excuse and rushed off. Poor Fitz. I stood and watched him walk off as the song ended and Hunter scooped up as many dollar bills from the stage as he could shove into his G-string.

I was about to duck back down to the equipment to clear my head, when a tall blonde sat down at one of the bar stools. Bobbi took a sip of her drink, composed and professional.

"So how are things on this end?"

"All tip top," I waited for the crack in her composure. "And clearly things are going well on your end by the looks of it?"

Bobbi waved a hand off, but I didn't miss the slight smile creep up the corner of her mouth. "I'm just glad he wasn't allowed to try the pole. This was honestly one of Hunter's tamer performances. You should see his dance for American Woman."

"Thank goodness that won't be necessary," I made a face. "It's safe to say I've seen far more of Hunter than I ever cared to."

Bobbi grinned to herself, slowly breaking out of her agent persona. Thankfully. I needed my friend's advice right now. "Where's Fitz?"

"Oh, he ran off to fetch more ice," I said, thinking of how to bring up my concerns about my performance.

"Of course he did," Bobbi smiled, trying to catch my eye. "Feeling a bit cramped back there?"

I frowned and opened my mouth to retort. Yes, it was! But I didn't like her implication. "I don't think that's necessarily the problem," I explained. "But something is off. I'm not quite sure what, but something's different with our usual…"

"FitzSimmonsing?"

I gave her a look. Combining our names was one thing, but turning us into a verb was going a bit far.

"Is Fitz distracted?" Bobbi hid her grin very poorly for such a good agent.

"Not at all!" I huffed. "He's the picture of professionalism and efficiency, actually." I sighed. That's what was bothering me. "Truth be told, I'm the one that can't seem to focus on anything. And this ridiculous outfit doesn't help things! It's completely uncomfortable. As predicted, nobody's given me a second glance. Nor should they."

"I don't know about that," Bobbi casually took a sip of her drink.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling irritated and self-conscious.

Bobbi looked away. "Well I really don't want to overstep…" I glared down at her. "Okay. It's just that you said Fitz went to grab more ice?"

"Of course. We're running low," I waited for the point.

She raised an eyebrow at the ice bucket on the counter. It was full.

I chewed on my lip. "Well he's simply being pragmatic and thinking ahead. There will be another rush soon and-"

"Simmons." I stopped, wringing my hands together. "Have you really never seen the way he looks at you?" I opened my mouth, not sure what to say. I shook my head once to the side, thoughtfully, like a question. "I could see it from across the room tonight, and I had Hunter all up in my face," Bobbi curved her mouth into a knowing grin.

"Well that doesn't mean anything," I tugged at the hem of my skirt. "He's probably just distracted or..." I shook my head. "Trust me, Fitz does not think of me that way!"

Really, people always tried to pair us together. It's as though they didn't believe friendships between a male and a female were possible. I must admit that even I thought about it when we first met so long ago, though time and experience with Fitz had shown me that he never saw me as anything other than a friend. I'd seen him develop crushes on people. He became mopey and obsessive and frankly rather irritating about it. If he ever fancied me, which is unlikely, I would know about it. But we had long since passed that window in our relationship.

"You sure about that?" Bobbi nodded smugly as Fitz headed back over. Empty handed.

"Hey Fitz," Bobbi waved at him. He looked over absently, still appearing a bit overwhelmed. "Needed a bit of a cool-off?"

"What? No, I was just at the back grabbing…" His face fell, realizing he hadn't grabbed anything at all. "Right. Well, just taking care of something actually." He put his hands on his waist and smiled innocently. I glared at Bobbi when she looked at me as if this proved anything.

"No matter," I waved him off. "Bobbi was just about to tell us about the information she gathered."

"Later," Bobbi grinned. "I think there's still a bit more observing to do," she caught my eye. I winced but I got the hint. Luckily no one noticed how flushed I'd become, because Hunter had just sauntered over. He spun himself on the stool then put an arm around Bobbi.

"God that was amazing!" He beamed. "I think I may make a permanent career out of this. Did you see how much cash I got from just that?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. Thankfully he had his trousers back on, but his shirt was still hanging open.

Bobbi closed her eyes and did her best not to encourage him. "Why don't you two show us what you've got?" She breathed, slipping seamlessly back into Agent mode.

"Yeah okay," Fitz rubbed the back of his neck. I watched him bend down to look at one of the monitors we'd installed under the bar, but I had to look quickly away when I realized where my line of sight was about to fall.

Hunter choked. "Hold on, Fitz?" He quickly bobbed his head back up. "Is that glitter?"

"What? Er- Oh. Dunno how that happened..." Fitz blushed crimson and tried to dust off the seat of his pants. "Occupational hazard I suppose," he turned back to the equipment, crouching so his rear was pointing to the floor.

"Oh, Fitz. It's all over your shirt too!" I sighed.

He stood suddenly and rounded on us. "Can we just please focus? We don't have time to discuss what may or may not have accidentally drifted onto my clothes. We've got a mission in case you've forgotten!" Bobbi and I exchanged a glance and closed our mouths firmly. "Thank you." He turned back around, glaring at Hunter.

"Fitz, you're actually supposed to check the other-"

"I know, Simmons, but it doesn't look like that one's recorded anything, so I'm checking the-"

"What do you mean it hasn't recorded anything?" Hunter leaned over the bar with a surprisingly concerned look on his face. "Did you not catch my dance?"

"Relax, I turned it on myself. It's been recording this whole time," I waved off.

"Well then check for yourself," Fitz grumbled.

I crouched down next to him. He accidentally brushed his arm against mine, and I swallowed. "Well it's there," I focused intently on the equipment. "It-It's just all garbled and wiggly..."

"Talk to me, guys. What's happening?" Bobbi stood, trying to peer over the bar.

"Well," Fitz stood. "We'll have to run some diagnostics to see what's actually happened, but-"

"It looks like what was recorded has gone a bit fuzzy," I finished.

"Okay, well you guys keep working on it," Bobbi sighed. "If you can't get anything substantial, we'll need to come back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Fitz and I said in unison. We looked at each other, then quickly away.

"Yes!" Hunter whooped and clapped his hands. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Hunter." Bobbi stared straight at him. "You are not trying the-"

"Yeah, no no. I'm just gonna run and get the guys to show me a few tips for tomorrow..." Hunter jogged off through the crowd. Bobbi sighed.

The rest of the night saw Fitz and I completely swamped trying to tag-team the drinks and subtly fix the equipment before last call. Somehow the space felt smaller than before. We kept bumping into each other and awkwardly apologizing. I was completely on edge.

After my discussion with Bobbi, I was paying closer attention to Fitz. She was right. I caught him staring at me multiple times. When I caught his eye, he would look quickly away. Once or twice he appeared to be about to say something to me, but then he'd either think better of it, or a customer would approach him at the bar. To both of our surprise, he was making an outrageous amount of tips.

Just before last call, as we were beginning to recover the data, the Bride-to-Be from earlier walked by and blew Fitz a goodbye kiss. I frowned. I hadn't realized it before, but she had glitter all over her too from her tiara… A heavy wave of fire burst through my chest as I put two and two together.

Well. Bobbi appeared to be right about why Fitz had stepped away earlier, but it had absolutely nothing to do with me. I placed the last drink down on the counter a little too hard, still being ignored by the guests in favor of my partner. I shouldn't be surprised. There were many women here, and he was an objectively handsome man. I would have thought he'd have more class than to go for a woman that was clearly taken, but what did I know? I huffed internally. And it wasn't any of my business. None at all. Once we got the equipment recovered, we'd be back to the base like this night had never happened. What happens at Big Dixie's stays at Big Dixie's.

Not ten minutes after the last guest left the premises did Hunter stir everything back up again. "BOBBI!" he wailed from the stage. "We have a slight problem!" Everyone turned. Hunter was doubled over, holding onto the pole for support.

"Hunter, don't you dare tell me you tried the-" Bobbi growled.

"Of course I tried it Bobbi, they have a proper pole here. No one was using it."

"You sound way too smug for someone who can't stand right now," Bobbi stormed over

"Can you please just- I don't want to hear it. Just come help me. And bring an ice pack!"

I shook my head and turned to see Fitz staring at me again. "What?" I snapped. If he was going to keep staring, I wanted to know why. There had been dozens of women mooning all over him, and there should be no reason for him to suddenly turn into an ogling baboon now. Fitz opened his mouth again and froze. Before he could change his mind, I shot him a look that said spit it out already!

He smiled apologetically and took a deep breath. "Hold still Jemma," he reached out and held my arm to keep me in place. My breath caught in surprise as he took a tentative step towards me. He lifted a hand carefully to the side of my face, inches away, and I instinctively fluttered my eyes closed. His warm fingers brushed across my forehead. I felt a piece of hair pull away from my bottom lip, and it sent a sudden uncomfortable jolt down my spine. I made a face. "Sorry, hair stuck to your mouth," he stepped back sheepishly. "Was bugging me all night."

"Oh. Right," I sunk back and released the air from my lungs. "Thanks." I chewed on my bottom lip to calm the strange sensation. My heart was racing. He turned away to keep tinkering with the equipment. I sighed and started to count the tip jar.

A feeling that I could now distinctly identify as disappointment bubbled up from the pit of my stomach. It was safe to say that Bobbi's hypothesis had now been officially dis-proven. Yes, he'd been staring at me all night, but it was because of a hair stuck to my face, nothing nearly as romantic as she had hoped. Unfortunately, my attempt at researching her observation had also made me acutely aware of one very significant fact. My feelings for Fitz were not nearly as platonic as I'd always thought. I was in trouble.

After we'd cleared up the bar a bit, Bobbi marched over, looking harassed in a way that only Hunter could make her appear.

"How is he?"

"Hunter is a child," she glowered. "What was the one thing we all told him not to try? Can you guess what he tried?"

"He didn't hurt himself did he?" I winced, looking over at the pole.

"Hunter pulled his groin," Bobbi said flatly, completely unimpressed.

"Oh God," Fitz paled.

"So with the tech gone haywire and his majesty out of commission with his ice-pack…"

"Well we're almost back up and running on our end. We might as well just pack up, call it a mission," I grinned helpfully, not so subtly pleased to be headed back to the base early.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple… We've still got to tag the Hydra Agent. Hunter thinks he identified her, but he didn't get close enough to track her. We'll have to come back."

I bowed my head. It was never that simple.

"And you're sure Hunter's really hurt?" Fitz's face fell as though he'd lost his life savings. "He'll be okay though, yeah?"

Bobbi offered him an apologetic smile, trying to work out what to say next.

"What are you two on about?" I scoffed. I appeared to be missing the punch-line. "Hunter will be fine, Fitz. He'll just be a bit sore for a few days."

"It's not that…" Fitz choked.

Bobbi sighed, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Fitz, I hate to put you on the spot here, but…"

"There's got to be someone else we can call though, yeah?" he said stiffly.

"I'm afraid not this time…"

"I don't understand, what's the problem?" My mind raced. I was missing something huge.

"Mack? Mack would be great at this." There was a slight edge of panic to his voice now.

"Mack's not up to speed on the mission, and you're already prepped. You're the only one we can bring in at this stage."

"But you can't expect me to – to actually-?!"

"I still don't-" then I froze, realizing what was happening.

"If there were any other way, believe me, we would try it," Bobbi shrugged. "No one likes the idea of you going undercover like this, but you're already established. And I've seen your file, Fitz. You got top marks for dance, so I can't see this being impossible for you." He nodded numbly, white as a ghost. "Hunter will take over your position with Simmons, and we'll have you covered from all sides."

"I, but - can we...?"

"Dixie and Angel have agreed to give you some training tomorrow, so report here bright and early."

Fitz flinched, no longer able to craft his protests into words.

"End of discussion, Fitz. You're going on stage tomorrow."

A/N: Hunter's song - Sexy and I Know It by L.M.F.A.O.