So, in case you couldn't tell, Simmons has the hots for Fitz in this fic. Many chapters will contain admiring descriptions of Fitz's body, some risqué thoughts. You've been warned!

"Oh, Lord. What did you drag me to?" Fitz's groan wasn't exactly discreet as the opening credits sprang to the screen among strains of a familiar song.

"You hush."

"The CGI on that owl is preposterous."

"Shh." She very nearly put her hand over his mouth, except the last time she had, he'd licked it out of childish habit. And her palm wasn't exactly where she wanted his tongue.

-o-

"I know she's just a kid, but could they have picked a worse actress?"

"Her acting gets better later on."

"Better than crap is still pretty crap." Cranky and all, Fitz was attempting to whisper, he just seemed to have forgotten his "library voice". Perhaps I should call his mum to sort him out. Simmons smiled a bit wickedly at the thought.

"Fitz, I swear if you-"

"Will you two stop talking?"

"Oh goodness, of course, sir, I'm terribly sorry."

-o-

"Good God, how much was their glitter budget?"

"Fitz."

"Glitter is the herpes of the craft world, I hope you know."

"Ugh." Jemma scoffed, but hid her face as she remembered that Fitz only hated glitter because he'd once insisted on making her a birthday card.

-o-

"Oh, joy. Because just in case there aren't any crying babies in the theater, put one in the film! Thanks. You're right, Simmons, this was a great idea."

She ignored the sarcasm, focusing instead on the fabulous musical number onscreen. "If you ruin this for me I'm not going to the go-cart track with you next weekend."

"You're bluffing. You wouldn't dare."

"Interrupt Bowie again and we'll see who's bluffing."

Fitz filled his mouth with popcorn, and Simmons tried not to feel jealous of popcorn.

-o-

"Excuse me." Fitz stood awkwardly, causing a bevy of hissed 'sit downs' and 'out of the ways' to erupt from the rows behind them.

Simmons tutted. "Really, Fitz? Why didn't you go before the film started?" She very nearly succeeded in not looking at his crotch, which was now right around eye level. That's got to be some kind of athletic cup.

"Don't put this on me, Simmons - you bought us the giant drink, for Christ's sake."

"Well, get me some Raisinets then, while you're out."

Fitz's grin gleamed wide in the indirect light.

Fitz really had been very patient, perhaps even enjoyed himself after all, she thought, as he received compliment after compliment from the other cinema-goers on his ensemble. He thrilled them to no end when he began twisting and spinning the "crystal ball" on practiced palms and worldly digits. And I'm the one he's leaving with. Too bad that didn't mean what it sounded like. Honestly, though, she couldn't complain - not really, not when she and Fitz got to spend nearly all their time together.

Someday, perhaps, Fitz would notice that she was a woman, or set off the conversation about what, exactly, they were to each other. Until then, she could content herself with a quick peek at his arse in those painted-on trousers, trusting her mask to camouflage her ogling. Because she did mean to ogle him. Those leggings were writing cheques that his backside could definitely cash - it looked like a pair of firm boxing gloves lashed side-by-side, bouncing along in a duffel. Those glorious buttocks were just begging for a pinch. Stop that, Jemma. It's not even St. Patrick's Day. She twisted her hands together in an attempt to keep them still. No squeezing Fitz's bum. Not today, at least.

"All right, all right," Fitz hung his head in surrender, smiling as they gathered their things and prepared to head home. "That wasn't too horrible."

She pulled off her mask and tugged her fingers through her slightly sweaty hair, tousling it into some semblance of style. After a moment's hesitation, she also yanked off her poet blouse and tucked it into her belt, leaving her in a tank top and the knee-length Hoggle trousers. She sighed happily when the cool air hit her skin, and turned back to Fitz with a told-you-so brow. "Not horrible, hmm? Such praise…"

Fitz's shrugged off her teasing good-naturedly. "Turns out I didn't even need this little beauty to distra-" he stuck his hand in the pocket of his leather coat, "- er, Jemma?" A note of panic was creeping into his voice.

"What's the matter?"

"Erm…"

"Fitz…"

"Okay. Okay, this isn't that bad. It probably just fell out of my pocket in the loo."

"What fell out of your pocket?"

"Erm, well… y' know earlier in the lab, I was modifyin' the Glow-Glow Power Range?"

This again. "I told you, we're not calling it that, it doesn't even make sense and what's wrong with just saying 'Targeted On-Board Illumination Interface'-"

"Oh, I don't know, because it's boring, Simmons - anyway, I thought I'd just bring along the battery component- see if I could fix-" he trailed off at her crossed arms and pointed glare. "Obviously I didn't know this would happen, did I?" Fitz had the audacity to look indignant. "Now will you check around our seats, please? It was turned off, so it won't be glowing-"

"I should hope not. We don't know how it could react to being activated for extended periods-"

"I know, Simmons. Will y' just help me find it?"

A few minutes later Simmons was using the flashlight app on her cell phone, peeking under seats, when Fitz burst back into the now-empty theater.

"Bloody Hell, Simmons, please tell me you spotted it."

"No luck, I'm afraid. Care to explain why you thought taking a potentially dangerous power source," she lowered her voice to a hiss, "out of our secret government lab and bringing it to the cinema was a good idea?"

"Oh, stop your haiverin'," he slitted his eyes, retaliatory, "I wasn't even gonna turn it on, just work at stabilizing the wiggly bits in the casing. And y' know I like to have somethin' to tinker with in case I get bored."

"Are you bored now, Fitz? Because if Sci-Ops finds out you lost a piece of tech," she snapped out under her breath, "with alien material in it, they'll have both our hides."

"We're not gonna give them that chance. C'mon, Simmons, we're a couple of geniuses, I'm sure we can find one little battery."

They stepped out into the lobby, heading for the manager's office, when the strains of an argument reached their ears.

"Give it back, Cody!"

"No way, nardbutt. You'll break it. Here," a teenager handed a smaller boy a cell phone, "keep playing your stupid bird game."

"But I found it! It's mine! I'm gonna tell mom."

"Simmons, look." Fitz pointed. She cast her eyes to the concession area just outside Transformers: Dark of the Moon, and saw a sloppily dressed fourteen- or fifteen-year-old, roughhousing with his younger brother of perhaps nine or ten. Simmons' first thought was that it was a bit late for them to be out of the house on a weeknight. Her second was that she didn't like the way they were throwing about the nigh-irreplaceable power component from their device. Cody, the taller and probably more obnoxious, was currently engaged in holding the tennis-ball-sized object up where the little one couldn't reach it.

But the part that truly concerned her was the dim light swirling over the battery's core, casting a soft teal glimmer into the space around it. The boys had somehow managed to turn it on. That could be very bad. They hadn't had any dangerous readings off the object in the lab as yet, but she didn't like to take chances in an uncontrolled environment.

"Well that's a stroke of good fortune, Fitz!" Simmons beamed as she headed straight towards the duo. "Excuse me? Beg pardon? Boys? Excuse me, boys-"

They turned to watch her as she hastily crossed the expanse of boldly patterned carpet. "Thank you so much for finding this!" She gave them her best smile, hoping to charm them into settling this all quickly, so she could get home to her nice soft bed and fuel her dreams with images of Fitz in costume. "Honestly, you two are my heroes tonight."

The shorter youth seemed intrigued. "Hi," he squeaked out, looking behind her at Fitz with open curiosity and a smidge of distrust. A second later his older brother pushed him bodily out of the way.

"Step off, Trey. She's talking to me. Hey, beautiful." His adolescent wink was as unsettling as it was unwelcome.

Simmons forced herself into civility for the sake of recovering their tech. "I was just noticing that you've picked up my, er…" Oh, God. She couldn't very well say alien power source, "… bicycle light," she finished lamely.

"Really." Cody seemed unimpressed, tossing and catching the item in question like a 50's gangster with a coin. "Never seen a bicycle light like that. Where'd you get it?"

"Erm…" Crumbs. Why couldn't she lie?

"It's so cool!" Trey piped up, and beamed at Simmons. "Can I keep it? Please? I'll be your friend forever." He had an aura about him that implied he'd spent many of his younger years manipulating adults with his cuteness. At nine, however, the baby face had all but worn off, leaving only the mildly tacky feeling of manipulation.

"I'm sorry," she consoled, "but it wouldn't be very safe of me to ride around without it, don't you think?"

"Well…" Cody began, "Seeing as we're your heroes…" Simmons did not really like the way this was headed, "shouldn't we get some kind of reward?" He puckered his mouth and blew crudely-pantomimed kisses at her.

"Now listen here, y' little shite," Fitz huffed from behind her, having finally caught up, "She's been more than patient with you, but that's ours and you're to give it back right this minute."

"I don't see your name on it, Lady Gaga," Cody countered snidely, snickering at the rockstar wig. A suspicious slant invaded his brow. "How do I even know it's yours, anyways?"

She thought she saw Fitz rolling his eyes in concert with hers. She didn't want to spend any more time with these rude young men than she absolutely had to, and resolved to get the power core back forthwith.

Apparently, Fitz had the same idea. "Oh, for Pete's sake, just-" Suddenly he was around her, attempting to lunge for the device, but he stumbled a bit in the unfamiliar tall boots, and Cody jumped easily out of range. "Trey, think fast!" Cody hurled the power core at his brother, who caught it and whirled. "Later, suckers!"

The two sped off through the theater, dodging other patrons, and barreled through the heavy metal doors, disappearing into the night.

Descriptions of Fitz's butt are inspired by that picture of Iain de Caestecker playing baseball. That's for you, starbrightnights!

Thanks to StarryDreamer01 for her help with characterizing teenagers. :-)

Fitz's habit of licking hands that are placed over his mouth is from a funny tumblr picture by agentsofbluth.

Thanks to amandajbruce for (existing?) helping me with this chapter's extra-subtle Labyrinth reference. Y'all see if you can spot it!

New chapter will be out on Wednesday!

Thanks for reading. :-)