The Girl In The Airport
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People who meet in airports are seventy-two percent more likely to fall for each other than people who meet anywhere else. - Jennifer E. Smith
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No matter how long he had to sit and wait anywhere for anything, Fitz was rarely bored. His mind usually whirred a mile a minute and he was frequently planning out papers, experiments, and grant requests while he was standing in line for coffee or dropping tokens for a bus. Sitting in the hard plastic chair at the airport after his plane had landed though, his mind was screaming for something else to do. He was supposed to be on holiday, he had to keep reminding himself.
Of course, he hadn't anticipated his connecting flight being delayed on said holiday, and he only had his phone (with, of course, a healthy battery life of his own design) to keep him busy. He thumbed over to his text messages where he had made sure to let his mother know not to arrive at the airport in Edinburgh anytime soon since he was still stuck in Manchester - where he had been for hours. The snow falling outside meant that it would be impossible for him to hire a car and there was nothing else leaving until the next morning.
There was Jemma's name, three messages down, with a smiley face emoji, wishing him a Happy Holidays and reminding him that she was, in fact, the Jemma he had met the day before, even though they had also both exchanged messages for safe travels earlier that day and he wasn't likely to forget who she was that quickly. He typed out a reply, wishing her the same, and apologizing for not responding sooner as he was on his flight. He almost went back and deleted the whole thing, considering he shouldn't apologize since he'd only just met her, but it seemed polite, even if he doubted she was anxiously awaiting his reply. He hit "send" before he could change his mind, and then climbed to his feet, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and wandering through the busy terminals to find himself the holy grail for weary travelers - an airport bar.
He was seated at a table, his bag taking up the other seat, and sipping on his pint when his phone buzzed with an incoming message.
Don't worry about it. I just touched down myself.
A beat, and then another message popped up before he could think of a reply.
Obviously, I mean the plane touched down. Landed. Not anything weird.
Fitz tried to cough down his laughter and only ended up snorting some of his beer for his trouble, his face bright red while he imagined the mortification on her face when she thought he would think their messages had taken a new turn. Not that he would have entirely minded that. He shook his head to clear it.
On your way home then?
He typed with one hand while wiping his nose with the other, trying to appear calm and collected as other travelers walked by his table.
Not yet. Going to grab horrible airport food first. My mother's cooking is usually even worse.
Fitz chewed on his lip for a moment, trying to decide what else to say before realizing if she was still in an airport, there was a good chance they were currently texting in the very same airport. He gulped down the rest of his pint for a little liquid courage before sending his next message.
You should try O'Learys. I hear they've got decent appetizers.
He flicked the little standing menu on his table while he waited for her reply, but nothing came.
"You want another?" A gruff voice asked him as the employee walked by.
"Erm. Yeah. Sure."
The man picked up his empty glass and moved back behind the bar while Fitz stared down at his phone, willing the screen to light back up. He ran one hand through his hair and blew out a breath in agitation. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. Maybe he should have just left it alone and kept to pleasantries. Maybe she didn't want to see him just yet. Maybe she had just been polite when she engaged him in conversation. Maybe -
His bag plopped to the ground as a suitcase was rolled up next to his table, and there she was, seated across from him and somehow looking perfect, not like she had just spent half of her day on a plane. Fitz's jaw dropped and her smile fell.
"That was an invitation, wasn't it?" She asked worriedly.
"Yeah. Yes! Sorry. I was jus' - thinking. Yeah. I was thinking. Didn't realize you were you. Here." Fitz nodded hurriedly, trying to make himself make more sense. "Was - erm - was your flight alright, then?"
"No crying babies for 12 hours and no engine trouble, always a plus," Jemma told him with a shy smile. When the waiter stopped back by his table, she gestured to Fitz's pint. "Could I have one as well, please? And, um -" She picked up the menu and gave it a cursory glance. "How do you feel about chips, Fitz?"
"Love them. Who doesn't?"
"And an order of chips too."
The man nodded his head and left them alone. While Fitz tapped the side of his pint glass awkwardly, Jemma pulled her cardigan from her arms to hang it on the back of her chair. She seemed oblivious to his nerves now that she knew he had actually invited her.
"For an airport pub, this place isn't so bad."
Jemma raised an eyebrow at his announcement, and he thought he might have said the wrong thing. "Been to a lot of airport pubs?" There was a lilt to her tone and a quirk to her lips that let him know she was teasing, so he decided to go with it.
"Yeah. 'course. This one, by far the cleanest pint glasses I've ever seen." He raised his glass in a mock toast just as hers was set down in front of her.
She lifted it and clinked their glasses together before taking a sip. Closing her eyes after, she sighed.
"Good?"
"Tastes like home," she remarked, setting it back on the surface of the plastic table. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, dipping her head slightly. "So… are you waiting for a connection? Or are you here for Christmas?"
"Waitin'. My flight got delayed."
"Aw. That's awful. I'm sorry."
"Not your fault. Unless - was the snow your doin'?"
She laughed. "No, afraid I can't take credit for that one."
The shrill notes of "Jingle Bells" blared from the top of her suitcase where her purse was resting. She rolled her eyes.
"Surprised you didn't change tha' since you seem to hate it."
"I like Christmas carols," she protested unconvincingly. "And my friend Skye may have somehow locked me out of my own ringtone settings?"
He barked out his own laugh as she dug into one of the pockets for her phone and turned the volume off. "Don't you need to get tha'?"
"Oh, no. It's my brother. He can wait. He probably just wants to escape my mother's clutches. Wants to know when I'm getting in, no doubt. But… we're having a drink."
The nerves Fitz had been feeling melted away at that. "Right then, should we get to the small talk portion o' drinks?"
"Is that not what we've been doing?" She propped her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her hand. "I must be very out of practice."
"'s alright. We're just warmin' up."
They exchanged smiles at that, and Fitz watched her eyes as they traveled over his face, like she was memorizing him.
"Okay then," she informed him, "ask me anything you want."
He leaned back in his seat and narrowed his gaze as if studying her, liking the way her eyes shone in excitement and her lips parted in anticipation. He wanted to know everything, and he didn't really know where to start. Placing his hands on the arms of his seat, he tapped out a rhythm and smiled when she raised her eyebrows.
"Favorite food?"
She sighed and sat up. "So typical." She took another sip of her beer and pretended to think. "Truffle fries."
"Never had 'em."
"Well, I'll have to take you to a real restaurant so you can try them," she responded as she placed her glass back down, not meeting his eyes.
Fitz's grin threatened to crack his face right in half. He quickly tamped it down though when she looked back up. "Your turn."
"When does your flight leave?" she questioned coyly.
"Dunno. Everything goin' out's been canceled until a' least tomorrow. They haven't rescheduled mine yet." He shrugged, trying to play it off like it was no big deal.
"Hmm. Christmas Eve alone in an airport doesn't sound all that fun," she mused just as their chips were placed in the center of the table.
"I'm not alone now."
"True. Your turn."
She reached forward and plucked a chip from the plate, and Fitz followed her example, biting and chewing while he thought of another question. The voices of other angry travelers grounded for the evening echoed around them, but Fitz tuned them all out and focused in on Jemma.
"If you were an animal, wha' would you be?"
"Ooh, right for the good stuff, huh?" Jemma gestured at him with a chip. "If I tell you, you have to tell me."
"Done."
She took a bite from the potato and chewed for a moment, leaving him in anticipation before she finally told him, "A dragonfish. But not just any. I'd like to be one of the ones that are so deep underwater people never interact with them. They're practically fearless. And they have this fascinating kind of bioluminescence…"
She went on for nearly ten minutes about the creatures, and Fitz, quite frankly, found them alarming. He wouldn't want to come face to face with them, especially after she pulled up picture after picture of them on her phone, most of them artists' sketches. At some point during her show and tell, she had scooted her chair around the side of the table to press in closer to him, and that was worth the pictures of the horrible looking fish. After the third time he'd grimaced at a sketch though, thinking she wouldn't catch it, her lips twitched in amusement.
"Not your favorite animal then," she said with a laugh, closing up the image on her phone just as it started to vibrate again, alerting her to another phone call, this time from Skye. She hit ignore.
"Uh, no."
She pulled her phone in closer and quickly typed out a text message as she asked, "What about you, then?"
"A monkey."
"A monkey," she echoed, her laughter softening into an easy smile. "Any kind in particular?"
It was Fitz who started pulling up images on his phone of some of his favorites then - capuchin, spider monkeys, and the like. To his surprise, she was genuinely interested in the monkey talk, and they spent nearly 20 minutes just discussing the value of prehensile tails and how interesting it would be if humans had them.
"Can you imagine, that bartender," Jemma whispered, leaning in close, "having a tail? Think of how many more drinks he could serve in an hour? The productivity increase alone would be amazing."
"He's averagin' about 40 in an hour now. I'd say he could easily double that with the help of a tail," Fitz agreed, his forehead bumping hers when he turned.
He heard her take in a quick breath at their proximity, and he just stopped himself from jumping away since she didn't seem particularly alarmed at this turn of events. Her phone buzzed on the table again in front of her though, and she rolled her eyes as she pulled away. Fitz caught a glimpse of the message on the screen, again from Skye:
Is he cute? You didn't tell me if he was cute.
He shot his eyes back to Jemma, trying to appear as though he had no interest whatsoever in what her reply was, but based on her smirk without even looking at him, she knew he was paying attention.
Very.
Fitz's face flushed when she hit send and he hid his grin behind one hand, pretending to scratch at the stubble on his cheek.
"Your brother checkin' on you again?" he asked nonchalantly.
"No, just my friend Skye. She's curious about who I've been chatting up at the airport."
"Discussin' monkeys is chattin' me up?" he joked as their eyes met.
"Seems to be working," Jemma teased.
He ducked his head bashfully. "Yeah…"
Jemma laughed lightly again, and Fitz was pretty sure he'd never get tired of it. He opened his mouth, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say, when their waiter came by to see if they wanted more drinks.
"Oh." Jemma and Fitz glanced at one another and her smile became tinged with regret. "Actually, nothing for me, thank you. I've got to get going soon."
"None for me either," Fitz agreed, passing over his credit card to settle the tab.
Jemma waited until the waiter had made his way back to the register at the bar before she started speaking again.
"It's a pity to spend your holiday in the airport." She stared straight ahead at the table across from them as Fitz made a murmur of agreement. "And we are having a good time, yeah?"
"Yeah. Absolutely." He nodded his head fervently, watching her, even though she still wasn't looking at him.
"So… what are you doing for the rest of the night, then?" She rushed through the question before turning to him and staring at a point above his head. "Because you can say no, obviously, but it seems a shame for you to stay here. You could come with me for Christmas Eve dinner, even if it ends up being rubbish, and I can drop you back off at the airport in the morning to make your flight."
His mouth dropped open and he hesitated in his response, which must have made her think he was going to say no, because she immediately wrinkled her nose as she met his stare. The only thing reverberating in his head was I can drop you back off at the airport in the morning, which seemed to indicate that she wasn't just inviting him to a family dinner.
"It's jus… won't your family wonder who I am? You can't tell them you brought a stranger home from the airport, can you?"
"Well, we're hardly strangers. You know I want to be a dragonfish, after all. I don't tell just anyone that… and we did tell that man on the train we would be spending the holiday together, remember?" She tapped his arm carefully with one finger as his credit card and receipt were brought back to him.
"I do remember that, yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he signed for their cheque with the other.
"As I recall, you seemed to indicate that we were dating…" She trailed off.
"Well, I mean, tha' was jus' -"
"Relax, Fitz. I'm kidding." She patted his arm reassuringly as he put his card back in his wallet. "Unless you don't want me to be?" She bit her lip and thought for a moment, but didn't wait for him to respond. "To be fair, I don't usually bring a man home to meet my parents in the middle of our first date."
"Well, I've never been on a date in an airport before, so I guess it's not tha' strange."
"Good."
"Good."
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