"Bobbi, you're off for the afternoon," May said as soon as Bobbi walked through the doors after school. "Phil needs his interviews, and since the both of you were..." She paused to phrase it delicately. "Unavailable yesterday, I'm sending you and Fitz." On cue, Fitz strolled out of the kitchen, wearing a black button up, a cardigan, and a lavender tie.
Bobbi jokingly averted her eyes. "Fitz, your tie burns. Go change it, please, for the love of everything spicy." She got a punch in the arm for her troubles. "No, I'm serious, though. Go change your tie. It doesn't match your shirt." The Scottish chef sighed and slumped back through the kitchen, muttering something about 'finding a girlfriend that appreciated lavender ties'. Bobbi snorted. He'd have a hard time on that front.
"Afternoon, Bobbi. Hey, Mel!" Both mother and daughter startled at the nickname, Melinda at the ease in which it'd rolled off of Phil's tongue and in which she'd accepted it, Bobbi at the sense of impending doom that came on whenever someone called her mother by a nickname.
When was May going to taser him into the carpet? Any time now, surely -?
"Hey, Phil. No box today, I'll bring you Fitz's favorite."
Holy shit, she didn't taser him into the carpet. Bobbi's first thought was to bolt and tell Skye, but then she remembered that the May in question was still at school, fawning over Grant Ward at football practice. Nor was she talking to her at the moment. Of course. Everything that could've gotten between us, and it came down to the fucking Y chromosome.
"Sounds good. Bobbi, you ready?" The eldest May daughter nodded silently - half in shock, half in resignation - and followed Phil over to what was lovingly dubbed the 'Phil table'. Piper, Davis and Mack had christened it as such, going so far as to vehemently bar patrons from sitting at the table by the window whenever Phil was in. (If Mack was asked, he would deny actually picking up a member of the mafia and sitting them down somewhere else. So would Piper and Davis. Just less convincingly.)
Piper set down two table settings with a grin and left, the awkward silence between the two of them expanding until it was forcing Bobbi's eyes to look anywhere but at Phil. Truth was, she was still sort of in shock. "I can't believe you didn't get tasered into the carpet."
"Tasered into the carpet?" Melinda May, taser someone into the carpet? Why hadn't he heard of this before, pray tell? "What do you mean, tasered into the carpet?" Phil wondered if Mel was really capable of that. She did host the mafia in the dining room, it was true...
"You didn't know?" At Phil's still-confused look, Bobbi leaned in conspiratorially. "The last time someone asked May out on a date, she ended up tasering him into the carpet." Oh. That made sense. Was it wrong for him to feel vehemently victorious against this man he didn't even know?
"Why...why'd she taser him into the carpet?"
Bobbi shrugged fluidly. "She won't tell us why. Skye bugged her for a week before May made her clean the bathrooms for asking." A talented pair of chopsticks scooped up a piece of jellyfish. "So. What do you want to know?" Phil got out his pen, ready to ask Bobbi for her life story, before she chewed and grinned. "Wait. Try the food."
The jellyfish was something that couldn't be described as anything else as a slimy crunch, cold slipperiness migrating to his cheek and doing the wriggle. Phil fought the urge to fish it out of his mouth. "Bobbi. What." The hell, he wanted to finish. "What?"
"Sorry I'm late, someone insisted that my tie was off-color," Fitz, harried, pulled the chair beside Bobbi back and sat in. "Ah," he said matter-of-factly when he caught Phil's expression. "You've had the jellyfish. My favorite." Bobbi'd pulled the same trick on him the first time he'd tried it - but really, the joke had been on her.. Hopefully she hadn't told him they were worms yet.
The look the taller blonde gave him suggested that yes, she had just been about to get to the punchline of the joke. Coulson would thank him later. Served her right for telling him his tie didn't match. It was a lavender tie. What didn't go with lavender? One day, Leopold Fitz would find a woman that appreciated lavender ties. Even though today wasn't that day.
"So," Phil said, after he'd felt Bobbi and Fitz had glared at each other for an appropriate amount of time. "Which one of you wants to go first?" Chef and server exchanged glances, seemingly having an entirely mental battle before Fitz threw his hands up.
"There's not much to say," he said finally when Phil got his pen and notepad ready. "My mum raised me for as long as I can remember. We've been coming to May's since I was little, and when I got old enough to work, May offered me a job."
"That's not true," Bobbi butted in, batting Fitz's chopsticks away from the last piece of jellyfish. "The first time he showed up, he ended up insulting Chan Ho because he thought his dishes weren't spicy enough." As if to prove his point, the Scottish chef reached for the bottle of Sriracha on the table, upending it over the jellyfish on his plate.
"Why, hello there," May said kindly to the small boy who'd run into the restaurant. "Are you lost?" It'd been a slow night for customers, all of the servers lounging around in the dining room and the chef taking a smoke break for an undetermined amount of time. At least this kid looked like he'd provide some entertainment, lost or not.
"'M not lost," the kid answered with a surprisingly strong Scottish accent. "I'd like t' speak t' your chef, please,"
"Leopold Alistair Fitz!" A portly, redheaded woman hurried in, glasses and handbag askew. "How many times must I tell you that you can't leave the house like that!" She was more recognizable, at the very least. Alice Fitz wasn't someone that was easily forgotten. "You don't know what could've happened to you!"
May stepped forward, a bemused smile on her face. "Mrs. Fitz," she said. "I didn't know you had a son," It made sense as to why she kept asking for extra napkins and hot sauce every time she ordered out. Chan had made it very clear if he'd had to put a handful of hot sauce packets into a takeout package one more time, he'd walk.
"'Course she does." The kid puffed his chest out, a proud look in his eyes. "M'names Leo Fitz, I'm eight years old, and I'd like t' speak to your chef, please," May looked between the exasperatedly exhausted mother and expectant son, already half knowing how this was going to turn out. "Your Ma Po tofu isn't spicy enough,"
It was if Chan's hearing had been attuned to hear the words 'not spicy enough', because the next thing they knew, said chef was in the dining room, wielding a giant pot of hot sauce. "My Ma Po tofu always spicy enough!" he half shrieked. "You no think it spicy, have all spicy you want!" Mrs. Fitz let out a loud yell when the bright red goop was suddenly splattered all over her progeny, the affronted chef already stalking back towards the kitchen.
Bobbi and Skye, who'd heard the commotion from upstairs (it was hard not to hear a screaming Szechuan man through the bathroom vents), had rushed downstairs upon hearing the scream and had skidded into the dining room behind Fitz just in time to get covered in the same.
Silence.
Then Skye started screaming.
"MY EYES!" Servers scrambled to get wet wipes and towels to clean off the May daughters - they'd seen firsthand what it was like to neglect them in crises - but no one noticed young Leopold Fitz take a fingerful of sauce from the top of his head and pop it in his mouth.
"That's why," he remarked casually a few seconds later, as if he just hadn't been doused with liquid fire. "There's not enough red pepper flakes." He made his way towards the kitchen, not even flinching when Chan brandished a knife with garlic at him. "You need more red pepper flakes,"
"Chan Ho Yin make fire, no one tell Chan Ho Yin how to make fire - !" The chef was just about ready to dismember the small Scottish lad when he dumped an entire container of red pepper flakes into the pot of hot sauce, calmly taking a spoonful and tasting it.
"Bloody hell, there 't is," Fitz gasped out, his eyes watering. Chan was so thrown by the image of a kid crying that he didn't even move an inch for his knife. "Here, try some." Mollified but still annoyed, Chan took another spoon and tasted the sauce, his eyes going wide. "Told you, Red pepper flakes. Gives it a whole 'nother level."
"Kid make fire" was all Chan admitted grudgingly before stomping off, presumably to correct the recipe he had written down on a scroll somewhere. Fitz stared after him for a few silent seconds, his nonchalant silence broken by the heavy thwap of the swing door.
"Leopold!" Mrs. Fitz was on him in an instant, trying to sweep off all of the remaining goop on his clothes and hair. "Why did you go into that kitchen, he could have killed you -" Her tirade was broken by loud, harsh Mandarin coming from the back room, a male and female voice dueling it out like there was no tomorrow.
Skye stepped up to fill the shocked emptiness left by the silence. "Hi, I'm Skye, I'm adopted, and I'm nine," she said brightly to Fitz. She held her hand out, the smaller boy recovering quickly enough to take it and shake it. "Do I call you Fitz or Leo?"
"Hi Skye, you c'n call me Fitz. Only my mum calls me Leo," The nine-year-old nodded. "Who's that behind you?"
"Oh, that's Bobbi," Skye said. "She's ten, she's adopted too, and she likes to pretend she doesn't show feelings. But I know she does." Her voice lowered to a stage whisper. "Last week, I caught her crying at the end of some Hello Kitty thing."
"Skye!" Bobbi was about to give her sister the worst lecture of her life when May stalked back in, her face red. "Hi, M...m...May," she said meekly when the glare was turned to her. She hadn't quite yet caught onto the whole parenting naming thing. "Did you take care of Chan?"
May sighed. "I fired him, but in three months I'm going to end up offering him a job again because too many people miss his cooking. Just watch." She turned to the Fitzes. "I'm dreadfully sorry about that, Alice, are you and Leo alright?" Both mother and son nodded in affirmation. "Let me set you up with some recompensation for that, it's the least I can do..."
"...and every time I came into the restaurant, May would just yell back to the kitchen and Chan would come out with a tray full of spices and a resigned look on his face," Fitz finished with a straight face. "Then, when I got to be workin' age, May had another giant argument with Chan in the back room,"
Coulson had already snapped a pen from having written so fast.
"Hey, Fitz," Skye chirped when Fitz swung through the restaurant. "What's cracking?" Her eyes skidded over his uniform - unlike she and Bobbi, Fitz attended a prestigious all-boys school, which of course required the dreaded polo and khakis. Blame a man for wanting to wear a cardigan, much?
Fitz gave her the same dry once-over. They'd gotten over the awkward part of their friendship a long time ago, both of them taking a look at each other and declaring in unison 'No'. "What's crackin'? Seriously? No wonder you're still single." He plopped his bag onto a chair, the both of them sitting down. "And to answer your question, nothin'. Hey, Davis, can I get some chicken wings?"
"And a bowl of scallion pancakes, school food is shit!" Skye called. "Yeah, Davis, I know. You keep telling me," she responded to the answering yell. "Still not going to convince me to swear off of 'em. And my language is just fine!"
"Hey, Chan! Xiāngliào nánhái zài zhèlǐ!" Instead of the usual chef walking out with a large tray in his arms, there was the sound of pots and pans hitting the floor. "Uh...Chan?"
"Tā hé nǐ yīyàng hǎo de chúshī, nǐ zhīdào ma!"
"Tā yīdiǎn yě bù liǎojiě zhōngguó cài de wèidào!"
"Rúguǒ nǐ gùyòng tā, wǒ tuìchūle!"
"Ránhòu líkāi wǒ de chúfáng!" There was a final bang, clang, and May emerged with the tray of sauces. "Hi, Fitz," she said tiredly. "Here's your sauces. Your chicken wings are going to be a while, I have to cook them myself."
"Cook them yourself?" Fitz furrowed his brow. "Is everything alright, Miss May?" He wouldn't have asked if he'd known it would cause Chan additional stress. And surely May didn't have time to take out of her schedule to cook him a plate of wings.
"Chan quit," Skye supplied. May shot her a look. "Sorry. You guys shout really loudly. Chan said that if Mom hired him, then he would quit. Obviously you were more important than he was, so he quit." Fitz's jaw dropped open. He'd been joking for years about finally working at May's Golden Dragon (it wasn't like he wasn't already there all the time hanging out with Bobbi and Skye), but apparently someone'd been actually listening.
It was then that Bobbi burst through the doors, a bouquet of flowers and a bag in her hands. "Congrats, Fitz!" she exclaimed, handing the flowers to a very confused Scot. "We've been waiting forever to do this!"
Both May and Skye were giving her evil looks, while Fitz just tried to pick his jaw up off of the ground. "Uh...do what?" Davis took the opportunity to place two bottles of soda (Sprite for Skye, Fanta for Fitz) on the table. "What, exactly have you been waiting forever to do?"
Bobbi seemed to deflate then. "Uh..." She turned to her sister and mother, both of whom were facepalming. "You mean to tell me you guys didn't tell him?"
"We were about to," Skye griped. "Then you came in and stunned the poor boy with your flowers and gifts. Probably thinks you're about to ask him out or something."
"Ew, no!" Fitz managed to recover enough to look sufficiently affronted. He was plenty handsome! "Sorry, Fitz. You're a good-looking guy, really. But I just can't see myself dating you, y'know?" Sheepishly, Bobbi re-handed him the flowers. "Guess the cat's out of the bag now, huh?"
May sighed. "I wanted to tell you this differently," she chuckled, "but if you'll have us, I'd like to take you on as a part-time chef. In on the tips, fifteen an hour, and as many hours per week as you want or need." Fitz's jaw dropped again. May really was handing him a job. Just when he'd been looking for one, too!
"Sure!" he exclaimed in what was probably a too-enthusiastic voice. "When do I get to start?" Bobbi, Skye and May cheered, the latter grabbing the bag from Bobbi's arms and handing it to him.
"Think of it as your initiation present," she said with a small smile. Fitz opened the bag, gasping when he saw the small, brown pepper.
"Is this a Chocolate Bhut Jolokia?!"
Skye laughed, clapping him on the back. "Welcome to the family, Fitzopold,"
"It was great," Bobbi quipped, swiping the sriracha sauce from Fitz before he could chug it by the bottle. "That is, until Fitz tried to cook us orange chicken with the ghost pepper that night," She shuddered. "I don't think I'd ever spent longer on the toilet."
Fitz just rolled his eyes and swiped the bottle back. "I've made plenty worse, and you know it," Coulson chuckled and flipped a page on his notepad. "Plus, tha's nothin' when it comes to what I used during the xiaolong bao competition."
Coulson just shuddered. He really didn't want to think about that - the Costco lady had looked at him weirdly when he'd checked out with three jumbo packs of toilet paper and some butt cream.
In the meanwhile, Fitz and Bobbi were trading looks once again like the shady duo they were.
"Do you want me to -?"
"No, it's fine, it doesn't -"
"I just think that it's better -"
"Fitz, it was eight years ago, I'm fine -"
"I still think it'd be better -"
"Ugh, fine. Get Mom to bring me some lobster, though? And have them just boil it!" Bobbi had to raise her voice as Fitz headed towards the kitchen. "None of that Chinese saucy shit!" She paused for a minute, evaluating Coulson. "Actually, make it two, one with that saucy shit and one without! I hope you like seafood," she said without preamble. "I usually like to eat lobster when I'm telling this story. Helps get out the stress, y'know?"
Coulson could only nod. Was Bobbi's story that bad?
Piper arrived not soon after, bearing lobster crackers, bowls, butter and bibs. "I'd be weary," she whispered dramatically. "Bobbi really likes cracking them when they're watery." He gulped and reached for his bib.
"So," Bobbi deadpanned chipperly. "I was born on a sunny day in New England in a hospital near the ocean. Word has it that the atmosphere in the room was like a unicorn had fucking shit in the hallway."
Coulson gave her a long look. "Really?"
The chipper deadpan dropped, and Bobbi sighed, looking out the window wistfully. "Yeah. I was born in Boston, actually. Can you believe I actually used to be happy?"
Xiāngliào nánhái zài zhèlǐ - spice boy is here
Tā hé nǐ yīyàng hǎo de chúshī, nǐ zhīdào ma! - he's just as good a chef as you are, and you know it!
Tā yīdiǎn yě bù liǎojiě zhōngguó cài de wèidào - he knows nothing about the flavors of Chinese food!
Rúguǒ nǐ gùyòng tā, wǒ tuìchūle - if you hire him, I quit!
Ránhòu líkāi wǒ de chúfáng - then get out of my kitchen!
What's a song lyric that stands out to you? "This is not the end of me, this is only the beginning," -i believe, by Christina Perri
Can't wait to hear from you guys :D