Author's Note: Once again, for formality's sake, I am going to blaze through the introductory information, so if you have read any of my other fics, you can just skip the next few lines. This is day nine of my Fitzsimmons Six-Word Story Countdown until the premier of season two of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. ABC and Marvel own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., along with the wonderful characters and the lovely plot, and any mistakes in this are my own due to the fact that I currently do not have a Beta.


After Phil Coulson began rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D., the members of his team had hardly a spare moment, every second dedicated to an organization that they devoted themselves to. Skye was beginning to become notorious for falling asleep at her laptop in the hours occupying the middle of the night, and there were twenty-four hour periods when Fitzsimmons did not leave the lab for anything besides a rushed meal and brief bathroom breaks. Though Coulson believed the recreation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was the utmost importance, he also realized the constant strain on the younger members of his team was beginning to be too much. In an attempt to show his appreciation while giving them an opportunity to revive their original vigor, he rented a cabin in the middle of the woods in Arizona for a weekend.

Fitz had been grabbing some firewood underneath the deck when raindrops began to patter to the earth, causing the cleansing scent of rain to arise like morning mist. While he was following the trail that led to the front door, passing by the empty space where the car had been, his curls lost some of their usual volume and flattened upon his forehead as the rain trickled down his face. He immediately inhaled the heated aroma of spaghetti sauce as he opened the door, the scent masking the wisps of smoke emitted from the crackling fireplace. However, as he looked around, he realized that only two places were set at the table. Jemma emerged from the hallway as he was doing so, her features more relaxed than they had been in months. "Where's Skye?" he asked, unable to locate the hacker.

"She headed out to the local cafe for a few hours to use their WiFi and check up on Coulson. I don't think she's too fond of the lack of service out here," Simmons explained. She approached the simmering tomato sauce and tendrils of pasta in separate pots upon the counter, handing him a plate before taking the other one for herself, and transferring scoops to her plate.

Fitz gratefully accepted the plate and began to heap mounds of pasta and globs of tomato sauce across his plate before topping it off with mountains of parmesan cheese. "Most definitely not. So it's just us for a few hours?"

"Yeah, I suppose so." She sat down at the wooden table, indents left from all the other people who had previously rented the cabin indicating how they had spent their free weekends. Curved imprints implied fingernails pressing too hard into the table during card games such as Spoons and Speed, and linear marks showing where a hand had slipped after too much alcohol and had ended up slicing the table rather than whatever meal they had been attempting to consume. By the conclusion of the night, Fitzsimmons had left behind their own mark; a scorch mark due to a chemical experiment gone was dragged across the memorable table like charcoal.


Author's Note: This isn't my typical Fitzsimmons setting, but, in all honesty, I was preparing for a writing assignment I had the next day for my English course in which I described the same location and similar situation. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it! If you are interested in reading any of the other ficlets I have written for this challenge, just head over to my profile! Thanks for reading!