This is the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. take on the swell rom-com that is 2004's Wimbledon. The characters belong to Marvel and the plot is inspired by the film (with some minor to major tweaks to better suit Fitz and Simmons) so credit must be given to both. This sucker is unbetaed so apologies for any egregious or barely noticeable errors.
"C'mon man… just tell me! Sore back, achy elbow? What should I exploit? What's your major issue... other than your frankly disgusting eating habits?"
Fitz pushes his friend over with a feigned glare that he can only hold for about a second before he cracks and grins at Trip's boisterous laughter.
After the initial panic that yesterday's press conference caused, Fitz had walked out of the room and spotted Trip leaning against the wall with an easy grin and a hand awaiting a fist-bump. The nerves and anxiety that had suffocated him while with the reporters dissipated almost immediately at the sight of his friend's easy grin and Fitz didn't hesitate to smack his own knuckles against Trip's. Just seeing his steady companion had made Fitz realize that he'd much rather lose in the third round of Wimbledon to Trip than anyone else.
Now they're taking advantage of their time off before their joint match by strolling the London streets and searching for whatever elusive gift will make up for Trip missing his mother's birthday.
"Seriously, didn't you pull something recently? How's your back recovering?"
This time, his glare is a bit more genuine and Trip seems to pick up on the fact that that particular injury is still one that should be discussed as infrequently as possible.
"Sorry man. Just trying to get you to loosen up."
"Oh don't worry Antoine… I'm plenty loose. You're going to wish I was tight when I nail your ass on Friday."
It's silent for a few beats before Trip bursts out laughing and Fitz hears what he's just said. He lets out a groan and a muttered, "You know what I meant," that only makes Trip laugh harder.
"Yup. You're going to make sweet love to me on Friday. Can't say I'm surprised, not many people can resist this temple."
The little shimmy Trip does causes Fitz to roll his eyes with a huff of laughter and a small shove. "You're such a wanker."
Trip wiggles his eyebrows and Fitz groans, already knowing what his friend's response will be. "Apparently, on Friday you'll be the wanker."
The, "Bloody hell," is mumbled quietly enough that Trip doesn't seem to hear it so Fitz gives him another eye roll and says, "Shove off Trip. Look, your mum would like that tea set wouldn't she?" He shoves the other man in the direction of the storefront and waits for him to become engrossed in whatever he sees in the window before extracting his phone.
He bites his lip with a small grin as he pounds in the number to the hotel, hoping that his time off might be used for some extracurricular exercise, and holds his breath as the phone begins to ring.
"The Dorchester, Billy speaking, how may I help you?"
"Yes umm… I'm calling for Jemma Simmons, Room 2112 please."
"One moment sir, I'll connect you."
It's silent for a few seconds before Fitz hears the telltale click of an open line and he immediately starts talking before he loses his nerve. "Jemma! Hi, it's... it's Fitz. Listen, I've got a fair bit of time to kill before my next match and was wondering if you might be interested in getting together for some… practice. I've grown rather fond of those high thread count sheets in your sui…"
"Jemma doesn't have time to practice anything other than her slice serve Fitz."
His eyes widen at the sound of the dry voice coming over the phone and feels the blood rush from his face as the panic begins to set in. "May! I meant… I wasn't implying… I didn't…"
"Don't call again Fitz."
The four words seem to say far more coming from May than anyone else and the addition of the sharp end of the call makes Fitz pretty certain that no message will be passed along to Jemma. He runs his fingers through his hair, replaying the brief phone call in his mind and wincing at what a complete and utter knob he was.
As if May hadn't been terrifying enough already.
"Fitz, man c'mon! I wanna check this place out."
He waves Trip on, following slowly as he tries to work out a way to get some face time with Jemma without getting murdered by May in the process.
"Bloody hell."
-O-
The next morning, after hitting for an hour with a new practice partner for the first time in years, Fitz decides that a bit of networking couldn't hurt. Granted, his version of networking will be focused more on finding Jemma than promoting himself in any capacity, but the opportunity to chat up some of the other players and coaches seems the best place to start his search.
He weaves his way through the club restaurant, peeking between the courts below as he does to see how the others are faring, and politely inquires with anyone he recognizes whether or not they've seen Jemma around.
The unanimous answer seems to be no, with the fact that May has her on a tight rope clearly indicated by most, and by the time he makes it to the shaded umbrellas Fitz finds himself feeling rather dejected by the lack of information. He rubs his neck in frustration as he contemplates risking another phone call to the hotel when he spots his favorite doubles duo and feels a smile break out across his face.
"Izzy! Vic!"
He gives a small wave before making his way to the partners with genuine enthusiasm, laughing as the two women stand up the moment they spot him and engulf him in a hug that leaves him more breathless than an hour at the gym with Trip.
"Fitz! How are you?"
"Is that stubble?! I remember when you could barely grow peach fuzz!"
He shoots a scowl in Izzy's direction, huffing in irritation as Victoria cackles by her side, and collapses into a nearby chair to wait for the women to finish their standard bit of teasing.
"Oh Fitz, cheer up!"
Vic ruffles his hair affectionately before plopping down next to him with a raised brow. "Now… what brings you to the lounge? Shouldn't you be nervously pacing somewhere?"
He can't help but release a chuff of laughter at the accuracy of Vic's assessment. She and Izzy had served as pseudo maternal figures to him since his early days on the circuit and both are all too familiar with the anxiety and general nerves that plague him during tournaments.
"Yes Fitz, you seem, dare I say, relaxed. Rather, relaxed for you. What gives?"
Izzy gives him an arched brow that does nothing to hide the mischievous twinkle in her eyes and Fitz knows with certainty that whatever teasing he's just dealt with will likely pale in comparison to what's in store. He briefly contemplates not mentioning the reason for his marginally less fidgety state, not wanting to watch these pseudo mothers ("Cool young aunts Fitz!") gleefully clap their hands and grill him endlessly, but Vic and Izzy know everyone and, more importantly, know everything. If anyone might know the whereabouts of the World #1, it's them.
So, with a resigned sigh, Fitz glances between the partners and rips off the metaphorical Band-Aid. "You've… you've not seen Jemma around today have you? Jemma Simmons?"
Once again, Fitz is unsurprised to see that the partners are just as in sync off the court as they are on. They both lean back in their chairs, crossing their arms and raising their brows in unison, before turning to each other and letting the slow smiles break across their faces. He shifts uncomfortably when their gazes return to him and begins fiddling with his hands in an attempt to distract from the blush that is now blooming across his cheeks.
"I haven't seen dear Jemma around today. Have you Iz?"
"Can't say that I have Vic, though…"
Izzy's voice dies off, likely because of the warning look her partner is now shooting her, and Fitz straightens in his seat as he watches them communicate silently with one another. They obviously know something he doesn't, not surprising considering they always know something while he's in the dark, and he's desperate to wheedle it out of them.
He leans forward in his seat, hoping that the, "puppy eyes," that journalists say he has might work against the toughest women in tennis. "What? Though what?"
Izzy gives Vic another look, widening her eyes and jerking her head in his direction, and Fitz waits patiently until Victoria sighs, waving her hand dismissively and apparently giving her partner the okay to give him whatever tidbit of information they have. Izzy turns back to face him and crinkles her nose as if bracing herself for a negative reaction.
"Though you might ask Will Daniels."
Fitz can't help but naturally blanche at the name, not the least bit interested in seeking out the other player, and shoots the to women a look.
"What, why?"
He can see Vic roll her eyes in his peripheral vision and even Izzy give him an exasperated look before raising her brows and tilting her head.
"Why do you think ?"
Fitz watches as her fingers almost make a rather cruel gesture before Vic slaps them away with a tut. It all clicks into place and he feels a bit foolish for taking so long to realize just why the two most famous, attractive, players in tennis might have tabs on one another.
"Oh… oh. I see."
He falls back in his seat and feels a flicker of disappointment at the realization that Will Daniels is evidently his competition in every facet of his life. Not that Jemma is someone to compete for, his mother would likely slap him upside the head for even thinking such a thing, but the fact that Will Bloody Daniels is her ex ( practice partner? Boyfriend?) certainly isn't something that he's thrilled to discover.
He picks mindlessly at an invisible piece of flint on his practice whites, stopping only when a warm hand pats his own. He looks up to see Izzy smiling at him and tries to muster a smile.
"Oh don't sulk. Apparently he's more jilted than lover. Seems Will Daniels isn't number one in all regards…"
She gives him a wink and a smirk that mirrors the grin on Vic's face and Fitz feels a warmth spread through him at their assurances. He hopes they can read the appreciation on his face because he's not certain he's ready to vocalize any sort of confirmation about just why he appreciates their insider information.
"Right well, as tempting as a conversation with Will Daniels is, I think I'll just keep looking on my own. Pleasure as always ladies, good luck tomorrow!"
He hoists himself up from the table, chuckling at Izzy's graceless snort and Victoria's, "We don't need luck," before moseying his way through the rich box holders, other players, and coaches crowded in the lounge. He cranes his neck in search for the impeccable ponytail that is Jemma's signature look when someone tugs his arm and asks, "Looking for someone?"
"Yes actually! I… oh…"
Fitz's eyes widen as he comes face-to-face with a stony Melinda May, who likely knows exactly which, "someone," it is that he's looking for. He gulps as her eyes narrow and follows without question when she nods her head and pivots towards a less congested section of the lounge. They've barely stopped for a second when she gives him a stern look and begins to speak.
"I'm only going to say this once Fitz. Jemma's on a roll right now and can't afford any distractions."
The implication is more than clear but Fitz finds that his mind is more similar to gelatin when cornered by May, meaning clarification certainly couldn't hurt.
"And… I'm… that is you think I… "
"You are a distraction Fitz. That's all you are. Jemma's a shoo-in for the Wimbledon title and I'll be damned if I let her… extracurricular activities… interfere with everything that she's been working so hard for."
He suddenly feels like the thirteen year-old he was when he'd first met the intimidating woman in front of him and finds himself physically shrinking beneath her glare. "Right. So…"
"So, stop calling the room, stop asking around for her, stop anything having to do with my player Fitz. She has a Grand Slam to win."
She's gone before he can even stutter out a response, lost in the crowd of the coaches that are clearly no match for her and the players that are no match for hers, and Fitz marvels at the fact that his longest conversation with May to date ended with one of the more epic warnings he's ever been handed.