"I'm going to need your hands here," Simmons said nervously, pointing to where she wanted them with the penlight. The room was completely black except for the tiny beam of light.
"Yes, Simmons. I know," Fitz grumped. "Now, don't you forget about the stripping. It's—"
"...Very important. I know. Shall we begin, then?" She was impatient, just wanting the whole thing to be over with.
"Yes, there's probably a time limit. Best get on with it. Don't want anyone burstin' in while we're in the middle of it." He chuckled nervously but it still couldn't hide his underlying irritation at the whole scenario.
After quite a bit of fumbling. "Oh Fitz! Not like that. You're doing it all wrong. You have to align them properly!" She said it more vehemently than she intended in her anxiety. She tried to demonstrate for him. "Like this. It's never going to work like that. It'll just slip right out!"
"Oh, Simmons! Stop nipping at my hide! I'm tryin' to get it in there securely. After all, if anything happens, we'll both end up in hospital," he warned. "There. Now if you'll jus' lift yourself up a bit—"
"And you just be careful where you put your—Oh, that is better," she sighed with relief. "Now I just need to—Oh, no, wait! I'm—"
"—slipping. Ow! Simmons, your knee is in my bloody—"
"—give me a second to—"
"—cryin' out loud, you've got my—OW—"
"—and I'm sorry, but I've got to move left a bit and—"
"Simmons! If you don't stop movin', this whole bloody house of cards is goin' to come down. And I, for one, don't think you'd enjoy tha'!"
"I can't help it! I'm—Oh, I've got it now!" she called out in triumph. Below her Fitz just rolled his eyes. "Now…let me just—
"Let go! You've got hold of my—Aah!"
"Sorry! Sorry, Fitz! But, eh, it seems to be stuck."
"I'd never have guessed, Simmons." His tone dripped with sarcasm as he soothed his newest injury as best he could with his hands otherwise engaged. "Brilliant, now can you please move your knee up a bit more? It's bloody well killin' me."
"Right! Sorry! Again."
"Thank you. Now can you pull any harder without bringin' us to the floor?" He moved his hands, trying to support her more effectively. "You know, Simmons, if I come out of this little endeavor with my back still—"
"Oh, I've got it now! But this…this isn't how you described it at all. The color is all wrong. And I think it's too large, it's not going to fit this thing…" The beam of the tiny penlight she held was wavering in her nervousness.
"Fantastic. Tell me, what color is it? Red? And hey, don't say it like tha', my mother gave me tha' thing, I'll have you know. Imagine where we'd be if—"
"Oh, Fitz, please! It's—it's sort of grayish-pink…there's also something red—"
"Grayish-p… Well, tha's not… But it should be…" He let loose a great sigh of frustration. "This would be so much easier if I could be on top you know!"
"Fitz, if I could support your body weight everything would be so much easier."
"Oh, well, aren't you jus' dead clever? You're the one who wanted to do this, Simmons, and now I seem to be the only one pulling his weight—and yours, I might add—with my superior athletic abilities."
Simmons scoffed, forcing a laugh for effect. Had she been less pressed she might have managed a genuine one. "Superior athletic abilities—"
"Time's runnin' out, Simmons! There're only two, yeah? …So jus'—jus' connect them together." He gritted his teeth, hoping it was the right thing to do. From his inferior position, there was little else he could help her with.
"Fine. Oh, it's not working like this at all, Fitz! Wait, what was the next step again?"
"You need to strip first, Simmons." He let his annoyance show through in his tone. He was quite miffed that she'd forgotten.
"Oh, right. Everything? Or just—"
"Jus' the bits tha' connect together." He waited all of thirty seconds. "Okay? Got it yet?"
"It's quite a tight fit. I'm not sure if…Yes, I'm almost there. I'm close. That's it! Yes!"
This is when the doors slid open and the lights came up to full, revealing Agent Logan not ten inches in front of them. Fitz was so startled, he tried to take a step back but with Simmons balanced with one knee on his shoulder, he pitched to the side and nearly toppled and took her down with him. As it was, he managed to stabilize long enough for Simmons scramble down, accidentally using his ear as a handhold with her foot catching him in the shin. He grimaced but managed to keep quiet in the face of the rather stoic Agent Logan.
"Well, wasn't tha' jus' pure magic?" Fitz said out of the side of his mouth, glaring sharply through slitted eyes as he rubbed his throbbing ear. Simmons smiled apologetically and pressed his multi-tool and penlight into his other hand.
Agent Logan looked around the room as if there were something more embarrassing to be seen in the room besides the two scientists stacked up like a Jenga tower.
"I thought you two were from Sci-Ops." He was eyeing Simmons a bit too closely as he said it.
"Yes!" Simmons chirped emphatically. "Of course…we are!" She chuckled nervously, crossing her arms over herself protectively.
"Your time was…" He looked at the clipboard he was holding and then back at the two scientists. "Perhaps lamentable would be the word I'm looking for."
Simmons' face fell instantly.
This was the third and by far the worst test administered by the less-than-endearing Agent Logan. Fitz tried to see the information on the clipboard but Logan pulled it back to his chest, guarding his secrets.
"How can tha' be?" Fitz said contentiously. "I mean, we got the thing open."
Logan looked at Fitz a bit pityingly. "Well, Agent," he glanced at his clipboard, "...Fitz, most field agents can get that door open in under three minutes."
"Well, I could get it open in under thirty seconds if it weren't near the bloody ceiling!" Fitz argued.
As if Agent Logan weren't there, Simmons stared at the floor and in a hushed whisper blurted, "I think that's the point, Fitz!"
Fitz glanced at her only long enough to comprehend her meaning before he glared back at Logan and said, "Yeah, but tha's not exactly a real-world scenario now, is it?"
The agent shrugged his well-muscled shoulders and said, "I don't come up with the tests, I just give 'em." Simmons giggled nervously again. It was too loud and a bit higher-pitched than was generally comfortable on his ears, but Fitz couldn't help but notice how Agent Logan was eyeing her up and down. He was suddenly struck with an idea. It was probably a terrible idea but..it did have the potential to work if Simmons could manage to play along. "Yeah, so, lemme check and see if they're ready for you out on the range," Logan said, taking out his phone and heading into the hallway.
When he was far enough away, having turned his back to them to make his call, Fitz elbowed Simmons in the shoulder. Without taking his eyes off Agent Logan he whispered, "Simmons!" He glanced over at her and added, "I think he likes you."
Simmons was looking appreciatively at Agent Logan's back (or perhaps not quite his back) but at Fitz's words, her brows drew together in confusion. At full volume she said, "What?"
"Shhh!" he hushed her. "Just shoosh, or he'll hear you! Jus'…" he indicated Logan with a sweep of his hand, "watch him and listen. I think he likes you, so maybe if you flirted with him a bit…he'd pass us?"
Simmons' jaw dropped in shocked disbelief as she turned to face him fully. "Leopold Fitz! I can't believe—"
But before she could finish her tirade, he had his hand firmly pressed over her mouth. "Simmons," he whispered fiercely, looking quickly to see if Logan had heard or glanced in their direction. Satisfied that he was still engaged in his call, he looked back, meeting her eyes. She wasn't fighting him but her eyes were round with worry. "I'm goin' to take my hand away now, Simmons. Jus' be quiet." She nodded several times quickly and he eased his hand away.
"Fitz!" she whispered harshly. "I can't do that!"
He shrugged in resignation. "Then I guess it's your fault we failed, Simmons."
Her mouth dropped open again, he watched as it opened and closed several times but nothing came out until she finally whined, "Failed!" She rolled her eyes and then casting them toward the ceiling petulantly added, "I can't just flirt with him so we can pass…that's…that's unethical."
"F. A. I. L.," he spelled. "Permanent record, Simmons. As in: Forever. As in: No field work for you." He suddenly looked somewhat happy at the thought, "Hey, then again—"
She smacked him on the shoulder in her annoyance, glaring at him thoroughly. She glanced quickly at Agent Logan's heavily-muscled back and then at Fitz again. "Oh…I can't," she said and clutched the sides of her neck melodramatically as if her head might explode in the face of such a conundrum.
Fitz held his hands up in surrender. "Fine by me, Simmons. I was the one who didn't want t'go out in the field anyway."
She had a sudden look of displeasure, pursing her lips as if she'd tasted something bitter. "It's a bit tarty though, isn't it?"
Fitz pressed his lips together to suppress a chuckle. "Ehm, no, no. Not if you're jus'…flirtin'."
Three days earlier
Fitz was working on the bullet casings again when the secure message came through on his computer. It was a cryptic bit of text saying only that he would receive a classified document by messenger. Fitz couldn't even remember the last time he'd gotten a classified document, probably his last promotion. His head jerked up instantly. Promotion. Wouldn't that be brilliant?
He was just beginning to consider the ramifications when Simmons came back through the door with the full-spectrum goggles that she'd lent to Agent Jameson from down the hall. Fitz didn't know what it was but something about him just didn't sit right. Simmons had a satisfied cat-that-ate-the-canary smile playing on her lips as she headed for her workstation.
"Simmons!" he called to her excitedly as she sat down.
She looked at him in alarm. "What is it?" she said, a furrow of dismay forming between her brows.
He grinned. "Guess who's gettin' a classified document today?"
She looked slightly irritated. "I'm guessing you are," she answered with cultivated disinterest.
"Come on, Simmons. I'm probably gettin' another promotion! I knew the Mouse Hole would really put me…er, us on the map," he said happily. "Can't you be happy for me? Maybe yours jus' hasn't come yet?"
She glanced up from her screen. "Hmm, maybe." Still uninterested, she went back to her work. She seemed to get an idea and looking up she eagerly exclaimed, "Maybe we're being reassigned!"
"What?" he said, pondering the idea for the first time. That couldn't be right, could it? They were needed here, after all. Weaver would never let them go.
"Oh wouldn't it be brilliant, Fitz? Maybe we could get a field assignment?"
She grinned happily to herself as Fitz's face grew dark. "You'd go off and leave me here then, would you?" he asked, pointedly, his face screwed up in contempt. He couldn't believe how eager she was to leave a nearly decade-long, extremely successful partnership.
The amusement melted from her features as she realized her mistake. "Oh, Fitz. I meant for us both to go. Wouldn't it be amazing?"
"Fantastic," he said drily, going back to his computer.
She sighed at the look on his face and went back to work herself. No point speculating until they knew what it was all about after all.
It wasn't long before Simmons got the same cryptic message. Her excitement seemed to grow once she was certain to be included in the news.
They both tried to work but Fitz couldn't concentrate. Simmons kept glancing up and asking him odd questions.
"What sort of footwear would be best in a pacific island tactical situation?" she asked speculatively, eliciting raised eyebrows and hunched shoulders from him. "Do you think they have English tea in Morocco?" There was a tinge of worry to her tone. He merely shrugged. Best not to engage.
Fitz was beginning to fret. Could they be transferred? Was that a realistic possibility? His concern continued to grow until it hit a peak around lunchtime. "When the bloody Hell are they goin' to get here?" He unleashed his frustration in the general direction of the ceiling.
Simmons looked at him with a small smile of sympathy. "I'll get us some lunch, shall I?"
He wasn't sure if he could eat, his stomach was roiling with anticipation. He nodded anyway.
Simmons left with his hesitant order and a crumpled bill from his wallet. Within ten minutes a messenger arrived with a large manila envelope. Fitz signed for it with nervous fingers and placed it on his desk, his hand firmly anchoring it to the surface. He couldn't bring himself to open it, he just held it to the desk until Simmons returned several minutes later.
"They didn't have—" she started as she plopped a sandwich down on his desk, quickly seeing the envelope held firmly under his hand. "Fitz! You got yours!" She tried to pull it free, with no luck. "Fitz? What did it say?"
"I don't know, Simmons. I haven't looked yet." He was holding it firmly as she continued to try and tug it free.
"Well, you can't avoid it, Fitz. Let me see." She tried to push his hand off and gave another yank on the envelope.
With a sigh, he relaxed his hand a fraction and Simmons pulled the envelope free with a snap, stepping back in surprise when it came away in her hand.
Looking at him curiously, she shook her head and quickly broke the seal, pulling the document free. Fitz closed his eyes as she began to read. When she said nothing for a full forty seconds, he opened them again. She was grinning broadly and his heart sank. "What? Simmons…what is it?"
A different messenger pushed open the door to the lab then and Simmons dropped his envelope and document to his desk. She signed for hers as he picked up the classified document and began to read.
"Agent Leopold Fitz has been selected for promotion to level five with full rights and privileges therein…" he grinned at that but it quickly began to fade as he continued reading, "Conditional upon transfer to S.H.I.E.L.D. Mobile Command Unit 616…commanding officer Philip Coulson." He looked up in confusion. "Simmons?"
"Phil Coulson?" she echoed his thoughts. "I thought…"
"Yeah…before the Battle of New York…"
"Well," she said with her tone one of accepting-that-which-can't-be-understood-at-present. "I guess it must have been classified. Now we're level five!" Her excitement was starting to infect her pitch. Fitz noticed mainly because he was beginning to get a headache and her tone was starting to grate.
"Well…" he added hesitantly. "If we accept, tha' is. Also, it says we have to pass field assessments. …Be a bloody miracle if we can do tha'." He smiled faintly at the thought.
"Oh, Fitz," she said, her face scrunched in irritation. She seemed to realize that such an approach would do her no favors and softening her features, she added a note of pleading in her voice. "It's the most perfect opportunity for us to see the world. We'd be fools to pass this one up." They had passed up several offers to transfer to other facilities, both having felt that Sci-Ops had more to offer them. This was their first offer of a field assignment.
Fitz felt his mouth go dry as he tried to form a response to her sincere appeal. All he could really think was: What if something terrible happened to her? The thought struck fear deep into his heart. Somehow he knew that if he didn't agree, she'd go without him. The thought of her out there on her own was the worst idea yet. He had only one last tack. He licked his dry lips and with the gravest tone of warning said, "You know tha' if we do this, there will come a moment—I don't know when or where—but there will come a moment when we're goin' to completely regret doin' this."
Simmons didn't wait for what she knew had already come. She leapt from her chair and ran to him, pulling him into a choking hug. "Okay, okay," he said, thumping her back in an effort to get her to release him. "Don't forget we have to pass these field assessments." he poked his finger at his orders for emphasis.
She pulled away slowly, a wide, bright smile on her face. "Don't worry, Fitz. It'll be a piece of cake."
Agent Logan was returning from the hallway, walking toward them with a sort of swagger that Fitz wished he could emulate without looking like a bloody fool. As he came to a halt in front of them, he flipped his phone shut with a flourish and said, "They're ready out on the range."
Simmons stared at him blankly. Fitz was standing close and slightly behind her so he reached up surreptitiously and poked her in the spine, urging her forward.
She let out an odd, high-pitched giggle and said, "That's wonderful." She actually managed to lower her timbre to something more akin to normal as she added, "I love shooting things!" She looked up at Logan from beneath her eyelashes and smiled seductively. Or at least, Fitz thought it was meant to be seductive. In reality, she looked a bit like she was having an aneurism, her mouth was twitching up at the corners hesitantly and one eyelid was fluttering a bit like it had some sort of tic.
Agent Logan smiled uncertainly. "So if you'll follow me…"
"Yes, sir," Simmons said, her tone teasing. She had her eyes lowered submissively as she took a hank of her long hair and twisted it furiously around one finger. At least her eye had stopped spasming though her lips continued to twitch up at the corners uncertainly.
Logan smiled hesitantly and then turned, heading for the range. Simmons quickened her pace until she came even with him as Fitz trailed behind watching her twist her ponytail. Somehow she managed to get her fingers so tangled up that she finally had to use her other hand to extricate her securely trussed fingers. When she finally had herself untangled she focused her attention back on Logan.
"So, Agent Logan, you look as though you spend a bit of time at the gym, I don't suppose you have any tips for…eh, Fitz here! He's not very interested in…all that," she swished her hand through the air over his large bicep for emphasis. Logan glanced back, giving Fitz a somewhat pained expression seeming to ask, Is she for real? Fitz could only roll his shoulders in a lax shrug. Logan returned his gaze to Simmons as her feet did double time to keep up with the long-legged agent. "You're certainly very…big, eh, tall. You have a very low body-fat percentage, obviously."
"Bloody Hell," Fitz muttered under his breath.
"And, eh, you look quite…symmetrical." Fitz rubbed a hand over his forehead and with a muffled sigh, he plodded along behind them. They were never going to pass now.
"Symmetrical?"
Simmons shrugged her shoulders. "It is a compliment, Fitz. That is the number one subconscious attractor for sexual selection—"
"Low body-fat percentage?"
"Also a compliment," she argued.
"Yeah, I'd be overwhelmed by your compliments in no time, Simmons. I'd be putty in your hands." There was an uncomfortable silence before Fitz realized what he'd said. "I—I mean…if you were… No, not if you were—I mean—Oh, for Heaven's sake. You know what I mean!"
When he looked over, Simmons had a hand over her mouth suppressing a laugh.
"Simmons, you jus' like to torment me, don't you?"
"It's easier than charming Agent Logan, apparently." It was meant lightly but it came out somewhat bitter. She put a hand to her throat. "Now we'll never get a field assignment!"
They were in Fitz's Land Rover, driving back to her flat. He wasn't sure what to say to comfort her, but he had to admit, at least to himself, that he was relieved. He'd tried to pass the field assessments for her sake but it'd been hopeless from the start. He would never be one of those muscle-bound automatons that she seemed to favor. Which was fine…absolutely fine.
Trying to change the subject, he patted the dash of his Rover. "At least I won't have to sell this lovely beast now."
"Oh, Fitz! You wouldn't sell the Blue Meanie, would you?" She stroked the leather seat to the side of each thigh. "I mean, if we had got the field assignment." She hung her head down at her words, chin nearly touching her chest.
"Well, I don't know if it would've been worth it to store her."
"But you've had it since second year." She stroked the leather again, looking disappointed.
"Nothin' lasts forever, Simmons." With that he pulled into a parking space next to her building beside a vintage red Corvette.
"Wow." Fitz was eyeing the car through the windscreen as Simmons hopped out, seeming not to notice. He saw a man sitting in the driver's seat. He opened his door just as Fitz got out. "Nice car," he told the older man. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, black tie and sunglasses.
"Thanks," he replied, rising out of the vehicle. "Agent Fitz?"
"Ehm, yes?" Fitz wasn't sure if he was supposed to know the man, at least, not until he pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into his suit pocket. "Agent Coulson?"
Simmons was just coming around the back of the Blue Meanie to see what was holding him up. "Coulson?" she repeated.
Coulson held out his hand to first Fitz and then Simmons. "And this is Lola," he said with a grin, indicating the Corvette. "I was hoping I could talk to you two about the assignment."
Fitz was too surprised to speak and Simmons quickly picked up the slack. "Of course. My flat's just this way."
He followed them into her living room and when they were all sat around her small coffee table, he said, "I heard about the field assessments today."
Fitz suppressed a smirk at the idea that Coulson had heard about Simmons trying to get them passed with a little help from her…attributes. Simmons herself paled a bit at the same thought.
"I know you only passed..." he pulled some reading glasses from an inside pocket along with a slip of paper and read, "The, uh, weapons readiness and…um, oh, no, that's it." He looked up and regarded them each. "So, you might be thinking that you aren't ready to go out in the field."
Fitz was slowly nodding his agreement as Simmons was shaking her head. Fitz noticed her vague disagreement and rolled his eyes.
Coulson seemed to be suppressing a smirk. "Look, I'm going to be honest here. I need the two of you on my team and I'm willing to overlook your assessment scores. You two are never going to see combat anyway. You'll be on the Bus, just doing the forensics and running analysis. We've got people to take care of the combat. Agent Grant Ward, I don't know if you've heard...well, he's kind of a legend. He's going to be with us on the Bus. You guys just worry about the science. I think it'll be a great experience for both of you."
Fitz was assessing the man as well as his words. He seemed like a good man. An honest man. He knew from his reputation that he was a good S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. And just running analysis on the plane he could do. Who knew? There could be new experiences and another promotion in his not-too-distant future.
"So, what do you think?" Coulson cocked his head to the side and, as if to further entice them, he added, "Wait till you get a look at that lab…it is a sweet setup. And you two are free to put it together however you want. I've got some goodwill coming my way from Director Fury, so the sky's the limit on equipment. Whatever you need, really."
Simmons was looking at Fitz pointedly, her knees dancing up and down excitedly. She was smiling her sweet, impossibly wide, closed-mouth smile. He knew it meant she was completely on board and ready to go. But she was waiting for him...and he couldn't say no, not to her.
He sighed loudly. "Yeah, okay." Simmons nodded vigorously, with a grin so wide she was showing Coulson all her teeth.
Their new commanding officer was already standing, dusting the wrinkles out of his suit. He held out his hand to each of them again. "Start setting up the lab ASAP. We've got wheels up in four days."
Closing the door after Coulson, Simmons whirled on him. "Oh, Fitz! This is so exciting!"
He flopped back on her sofa, lying down on his side and resting his head on the armrest. "Do you have to be so happy about it, Simmons?" She grinned wider and too excited to sit, she put a hand on his exposed shoulder and squeezed. He brought his knees to his chest and snuggled down into the cushions. "I really hope we don't regret this," he muttered, closing his eyes. "I don't even know Kung-Fu. Have you got anything in? Tha' Hellish obstacle course has me ready to chew my own bloody arm off. And I'm completely shattered." As if to emphasize his point, he yawned noisily.
Simmons continued to grin, patting the top of his head as if he were a well-mannered house pet before she turned and headed for the kitchen. He ruffled up his hair rebelliously. If he were going to be a pet...he would not be a well-mannered one.