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.
The next day starts off with a long, disgustingly healthy, breakfast with Trip that ends with the agreement that their attempt at maintaining professional distance was a fucking terrible idea and Fitz listening in amusement as his friend details the appalling practice session he'd had the day prior. Evidently, his own horrible training was rivaled only by Trip's, and Fitz feels entirely at ease when his friend extends his fist over the table and says, "Screw it. We already know everything about each other's game already, I want to get some good practice in before I kick your ass on Friday. Whaddya say Fitz, you with me 'til the end of the line?"
He covers Trip's fist with his own, laughing as his friend rolls his eyes in mock irritation over his refusal to give an actual fist bump, and happily agrees to continue practicing together.
Unfortunately, the cosmos seem to be against them because, not twenty minutes into their session, a deluge opens up and the courts are promptly closed and covered. They sprint their way into the locker rooms and find it filled with irritated players whose respective practice time and matches came to an abrupt end thanks to the typical English weather.
Fitz reaches into his locker, tuning out the din of conversation, and sniffs one of the spare t-shirts balled at the bottom before tugging it over his head with a shrug. He ducks away from a pair of shorts lobbed over him, wrinkling his nose in disgust and silently cheering the fact that this is the last time he'll have to deal with a bunch of sweaty men in a locker room.
He waits silently as Trip changes into his own dry clothes, only glancing up when Coulson comes in and announces that all of the day's matches have been postponed until the following day at the earliest.
A cacophony of groans erupts and Fitz has to duck once again to avoid being hit in the head with a towel that's tossed in irritation down the row. He rolls his eyes at the antics of his colleagues before hoisting his bag over his shoulder and following Trip out of the room with a short wave in the general direction of the other players.
"Man, we'd better have blue skies on Friday. I want this over with as soon as possible."
Fitz nods his head in agreement before realizing that Trip's gait means that the other man can't actually see him, so he hums in response and says, "Tell me about it. Though, I did check the forecast and…"
He putters off at the feeling of Trip's elbow making contact with his ribs and looks up from the ground to glare at his friend. Unfortunately, his very intimidating look is entirely ignored by Trip, whose focus seems to be on something across the street. Fitz follows his friend's gaze to a sleek-looking black car and furrows his brow when the back window rolls down and a dainty hand appears. It disappears in the next second, obscured as an enormous bus decked out with the Wimbledon logo and a photo of Jemma Simmons mid-serve drives by.
When the double-decker passes, Fitz notices that the hand, the very one he realizes is showcased on half of the city's public transportation, is now beckoning for him through the open window. The crooked finger causes heat to shoot through him and he releases a short cough in Trip's direction while keeping his gaze on the sedan.
"I uh… I'll… I think I'm gonna…"
He hears a bark of laughter and, though his eyes are still trained on the fingers now disappearing into the car, he knows that there's a lascivious grin on his friend's face, something that is all but confirmed with his Trip's, "Yeah I think you're gonna too. Catch up with you later man."
That and Trip's slight shove is all Fitz needs to make his way into the rain, barely checking the flow of traffic as he hastily crosses the street. When he gets to the cracked window, he can't help but smile at the smirk he's greeted by.
Whatever flare her beckoning finger caused has nothing on the toothy grin that Jemma is giving him now and Fitz can't help but match it with one of his own. He does his best to emulate the unaffected persona that some of the other players have long since perfected, placing his hands on either side of the open window and leaning casually against the luxury sedan with a feigned air of nonchalance.
"Fancy seeing you here."
The slight crack in his voice gives him away immediately, though, he's fairly certain that Jemma wouldn't have fallen for his act even if he'd managed to get through a sentence without sounding like a prepubescent. She quirks a brow at him, eyes flickering between his arms in what Fitz thinks could be considered interest, before her smile widens and a snort of laughter passes her lips.
"Yes well… word on the street is you've been looking for me."
He lets his head thunk against the car with an audible groan and can't help but smile when he hears Jemma begin to chuckle at his antics. When he ducks back down to catch her eye, he knows that his cheeks are likely an embarrassing shade of red.
"Well, it's nice to see that Vic and Iz can take a break from teasing me to pass a message along."
His fingers tap along the roof of the car eyes flickering over the freckles dotted across her face and he struggles to focus on the words that leave Jemma's mouth rather than just… her mouth.
"And what exactly was the message Fitz, Leo Fitz? Surely not just that a certain Scottish tennis prodigy was seeking me out."
The simultaneously coy and smug smile that seems to be permanently affixed to Jemma's face makes it pretty clear that she knows that, in fact, the message was simply that he'd been looking for her. So instead of trying to deny it or come up with some moderately believable excuse, Fitz gives her a small smile and asks, "What are you up to?"
Jemma's smile remains in place and she gives a nonchalant shrug as her eyes flick towards something behind him. "Just meeting someone for lunch."
Fitz casts a quick glance over his shoulder and feels his chest tighten when he catches sight of Will Daniels talking to a crowd of fans and photographers alike. The sight makes him think back to the previous day's conversation with Izzy and Vic. The implication of Jemma's relationship with Will had been made all too clear but Fitz can't help but feel a bit dejected to learn that it might not be as over as he'd originally thought.
"Oh! Okay well don't let me hold you up. Things to see people to do… No! I meant things to do people to see! I didn't… I didn't mean. Though if you ever want… If you ever have time to kill…" He can feel his cheeks pinken with each word that leaves his mouth and all but sighs in relief when Jemma claps her hand over his lips with a laugh.
"Fitz!"
She removes her hand with a grin and Fitz gulps at her new proximity. Leaning halfway out the window now, face just a few scant centimeters from his own, her eyes seem to sparkle even on this dreary, grey, afternoon.
"Yeah?"
Is his voice normally that gravelly?
Jemma's smile widens once more and she looks at him as though he's entirely inept. "I'm meeting you, right now, for lunch."
He blinks once at her words and once again at the expectant expression on her face before finding it in himself to actually process this turn of events.
Lunch. With him. Jemma Simmons is meeting him for lunch.
"Wh… oh! Oh! Yeah that's… yeah! Good. Er… shall… shall I get in or did you want to walk? Will the Grand Slam Queen melt in a bit of rain?"
Jemma throws her head back in laughter at his remark, scooting along the back seat as she does, before quirking her head and motioning for him to fill the vacancy. "Best get in. The rain's fine, the paparazzi across the street who think I'm still on the grounds are not."
He casts another glance at the crowd behind him, noting that Daniels is still hamming it up for the reporters surrounding him, and feels a small flicker of warmth at the look of disgust on Jemma's face at the sight. He doesn't even bother trying to hide his smile when he opens the door of the car, shoving his tennis bag unceremoniously into the vehicle before gracelessly following and shutting the door behind him.
He clicks the seat belt into place, jumping slightly when he feels something press against his side.
Turning slightly, Fitz grins when he notes that Jemma has moved to sit beside him in the middle seat. He watches in rapt attention as she rights her own seat belt before turning to him with her customary smile in place and asking, "So Fitz, how do you feel about sushi?"
