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.
Daisy rolls her eyes, shoving past him with a huff, and says, "Is that any way to greet your agent?" as she moves into the room. Fitz watches in stunned silence as she flops onto the bed and snatches the remote as though this is still a normal thing for her to do. The nonchalant manner in which Daisy is now comfortably lounging on his bed causes a flash of anger to hit him and he shuts the door with a bit more force than is strictly necessary before turning to face her fully.
"To be fair, I didn't actually think you still were my agent… you know, considering I'm still waiting for you to return my call from a year ago."
Daisy at least has the dignity to wince, likely at both his words and his tone, and she shuts off the TV with a sigh before twisting to sit cross-legged and facing him on the mattress.
"Okay, I'm going to be honest Fitz, it's hard to be an agent for somebody who doesn't actually do anything."
Her words sting and he leans back against the hotel door, crossing his arms with a petulant frown. "Nice, that's real nice Daisy."
This gets an eye roll from her and Fitz momentarily wonders why all the women in his life seem to be so fond of conveying their exasperation with him through the ocular movement.
"I'm sorry Fitz! I've been insanely busy and, honestly, I'm not a miracle worker, okay? Your career was essentially dead after the Ward fiasco and I can't sell something that doesn't exist. It's not like the offers were rolling on in anyway, if they had been, I would have told you. But they weren't and… I have other clients."
He bristles slightly at the dead career comment but refrains from pointing out that he's already made it farther, in this tournament and in general, than most were expecting him to. "And I assume these other clients are all here and this is just a sympathy visit?"
Daisy scoffs at that, leaning back on her arms and shooting him a droll look that he'd been on the receiving end of too many times to count. "I don't do sympathy visits Fitz. I do, 'Let's hangout and get drunk,' visits or, 'Hey you've actually turned yourself around and suddenly people love you again,' visits."
Fitz collapses on the small chair in the corner with a sigh, the exhaustion of the day seemingly multiplying in his debatably former agent's presence. "I'm not really looking to get wasted before the fourth round of Wimbledon Daisy."
A delighted smile works its way across Daisy's face and she leans forward on the bed, posture shifting from entirely relaxed to somewhat poised. "Good, because I'm not here to get wasted."
As annoyed as Fitz is with her for the months of silence (save for a pathetically brief Happy Birthday/Christmas joint email and the occasional cat meme), this sparks his interest and he straightens against the wall with a raised brow. "Well if you're not here to get wasted…"
Daisy grins with a nod and says, "It must mean that somebody's interested in you…" Her eyes flicker to the open box of Trojans sticking out from under a pile of clothes and her happy smile immediately shifts to one of mischief, "Maybe two somebodies…"
Fitz shoots her a look that he hopes conveys how much this topic of conversation is not one that they'll broach anytime soon and moves to kick a pair of shorts to fully conceal the evidence of his extracurricular activities. The curiosity is written all over Daisy's face and Fitz knows that the only way to avoid slipping and revealing something about Jemma is to shift the topic back to his friend's area of expertise.
"Listen, I've just knocked one of my best mates out of Wimbledon, I definitely fucked up my back again, and I'm bloody starving. I don't have the energy for you just yet so how 'bout we grab some of those cucumber sandwiches you always complain about from the tea room and discuss whatever it is that's brought you back into my life."
He gestures towards the door and Daisy springs from the bed without hesitation. She moves to meet him at the door but, before opening it, she gives him a tight hug that he hadn't realized he'd needed or wanted. When she pulls back, all of the things that her sarcasm and quips never say is written plainly on her face and Fitz gives her a slight nod in response, ruffling her hair affectionately and gesturing down the hall.
"Lead the way."
-O-
He makes his way through an impressive dozen finger sandwiches before Daisy's excited vibrating finally makes him crack. Snatching another from the platter, he bites into it while leaning back in his chair and gesturing for Daisy to have her say. "What have you got then?"
She grabs her own sandwich with a grin, dutifully plucking off the cucumber before shoving the bread in her mouth and picking up her phone. Fitz watches as her fingers fly over the keyboard and waits patiently until Daisy looks up again and launches into her spiel. "A hoity toity whiskey company that wants an actual Scot to be the face of their new scotch…" Fitz nods appreciatively at that, already knowing Hunter's next Christmas gift is sorted. "...a new Nikon camera that the imbeciles in their marketing department are pushing as, 'the prodigy of photography.' Obviously they want a prodigy using The Prodigy…." He rolls his eyes at the moniker but nods again in easy acceptance of the sponsorship, "...and lastly, I think you're going to like this one… Cadbury is doing a new commercial and want you to be in it. Something about putting eggs in a feeder and you whacking them as the Easter bunny or something."
Daisy seems particularly pleased with that one but Fitz can't help but blanch at the vision of him dressed in a bunny suit and hitting Cadbury eggs at unassuming children. Daisy seems to pick up on his skepticism because her nose wrinkles as she seems to deflate slightly in her chair at his lack of enthusiasm.
"Okay, admittedly that one's a little lame but I did confirm that, in addition to a significant paycheck, you'll get Cadbury for life. For life Fitz."
The assumption that he'd do anything for an unlimited supply of chocolate, combined with the waggling of Daisy's eyebrows, draws a laugh out of him and Fitz moves on from the sandwiches to the biscuits beside them.
"C'mon Fitz, you know I'd never tell you about an opportunity if I honestly didn't think you should take it. These are actually some that even some of the bigger-name athletes and celebrities might receive."
She extends her phone out to him so he can scan through the offers for himself and his brows raise of their own accord when he catches sight of the figures being extended. The Nikon one in particular has him doing a low whistle and, despite the fact that he's reading them with his own eyes, Fitz can't quite wrap his head around the fact that these are legitimate.
"This is absurd. Nobody would actually pay that much to have me be the face of whatever it is they're selling."
He hands the phone back to Daisy, who takes it with an incredulous look that makes it seem as though he is the mad one in this situation.
"Umm… I realize that you're basically a ninety-year-old recluse who refuses to use any of the social media accounts I've set up for you... but, Fitz, even you should know that, other than Watson and Simmons… you're like the most beloved person in the UK right now."
Fitz lets out a snort of disbelief at that but finds himself wavering in his doubts as he takes in Daisy's serious expression. She certainly doesn't seem to be having a laugh and, upon reflection, the crowd did seem rather pleased with his win this afternoon. So much so that when he returned to the hotel earlier… some of the fans and reporters outside had actually called his name.
The realization that he might not be as inconspicuous in this tournament now that he's actually advancing causes something to constrict in his chest and his throat to tighten. He thinks back to when he was at his absolute prime and feels the slow wave of panic begin to wash over him as the reminder of what it felt like when things came crashing down.
Sure, he's marginally tolerated now but in three days time when he inevitably loses to Britain's preferred player? He's not sure he wants to deal with the British population's rapid shift of emotion when he's no longer an individual who might potentially bring honor to the nation.
"I don't know Daisy…"
She somehow manages to roll her eyes while simultaneously contorting the rest of her face to seem sympathetic to his uncertainty. She snags her own biscuit from the platter and stays hovering somewhere over the table so that she can force him to maintain eye contact.
"Look there's no pressure to actually accept any of these, just… don't pass on them without actually thinking about it first. I'm just trying to put some money in your pocket before you choke again and the offers go back to being nonexistent."
He glances around quickly to make sure nobody is paying attention before turning back to Daisy and flipping her off. "Joke's on you because there won't be much opportunity to choke, thanks for that by the way, because this is it for me. I'm calling it quits after the tournament's through."
A small amount of satisfaction flickers through Fitz at the look of surprise on Daisy's face but disappears the moment she manages to school her features.
"Okay… okay. All the more reason to sign a contract or two while you still have options."
He groans at her persistence, letting his head fall into his hands and waiting for her to continue listing all of the reasons why he needs to act fast.
"Fitz, I love you and I know that, despite the frankly astronomical toll the past few years have taken on you, you love this sport. So I'm sorry that you're losing that, honest I am, but just because you won't be on the circuit anymore doesn't mean your life is over. I'm just trying to give you a nice monetary safety net so that you can find something else you're equally passionate instead of settling for being something lame like an inspirational speaker or country club tennis pro."
Naturally, Fitz can't contain his laughter at that.
He thinks about old-lady Robinson, likely sipping on a mimosa at Kenzington, and wonders what kind of facial reaction Daisy would have were she ever forced to interact with any of the uptight retirees at the club. The laughter only doubles when he takes in the startled look on her face and only when he feels tears in his eyes does Fitz manage to get control of himself.
"What… what just happened?"
He almost starts up again when he sees Daisy's arms raised in borderline terror but keeps his composure long enough to reply. "Don't worry about it. Send me the info and I promise I'll look at it. Now, distract me with something else."
"Okay deal. What are you wearing tonight?"
"Daisy, I love you but I really think we're better off as friends."
Were it coming from anyone else, he might be offended by the gagging that his comment invoked, but it's entirely amusing coming from Daisy due almost entirely to her dedication. He's seen this bit before and the first time had him actually rushing to a waste bin because he'd thought she really was going to be ill. Now he finds that it's best just to wait her out.
After she's acted her fill, Daisy gives him an amused grin and tosses her napkin across the table at him. "Seriously though, what are you wearing?"
Fitz is actually quite proud of how, dare he say effortlessly, he snatches the napkin from the air and sticks his tongue out as he drops it unceremoniously he drops it atop the table as he answers Daisy's question. "I don't know, sweats and a t-shirt probably? Same thing I always wear to bed. What's it to you?"
Daisy arches a brow at that and crosses her arms sternly. "Let me rephrase: what are you wearing to the sponsor soirée tonight?"
He immediately blanches at the mention of the black-tie affair and is careful to look Daisy in the eyes when he responds. "Let me not rephrase: sweats and a t-shirt since I have no plans on attending."
"Fitz, as your friend but mostly your agent, I'm telling you: you have to attend."
"You can't just come waltzing back here and command me left and right…"
"You're halfway through the tournament with three serious offers on the table…"
"...not gonna put on a monkey suit just to kiss the arses of stuffy…
"...at the very least you need to make an appearance and…"
"...nobody will even notice if I don't show up…"
"...free food and free booze is worth an hour of shmoozing..."
"...I don't even have a tux and…"
"...literally everyone will be there. All of the sponsors and all of the players and..."
"Wait everyone? Which players?"
Daisy pauses mid-inhale, eyes blinking quickly at the abrupt end to their competitive talking, before a mischievous grin spreads its way across her face. Fitz knows what her sly smile is about, having immediately regretted showing his proverbial hand so soon, and slinks into his chair in the hopes that he might disappear into the posh upholstery.
"Why the sudden interest Fitz? Got some unused condoms stashed away that you're hoping will serve their ultimate purpose?"
"Daisy…"
"Looking for a new ball handler?"
"Oh my god."
"Want to partake in a little mixed doubles?"
"Please stop."
"Looking to make a racket?"
"I could have sworn your personal relationship with Ward ended the same time your professional one did."
For a brief moment he regrets bringing up that disaster but feels the tension leave him when Daisy brushes him off with a wave of the hand and a, "Pricks are temporary, puns are forever."
Fitz chuffs out a laugh at that, biting at his thumbnail before looking up again. He doesn't want to vocalize the question, completely uninterested in another round of puns meant to embarrass him, but he's desperate to know just who will be showing up tonight. Sponsors aren't a reason to go in his eyes but if Jemma is going to be there… perhaps it would be worth squeezing into a suit and making small talk.
Thankfully, Daisy must have gotten her fill of teasing in because, reading the unasked question on his face, she coyly twirls her hair and says, "Not that I know who it is that you might be looking for… but I will say that all players still in the tournament will be at this party- even the top-favored. Romanoff, Rogers and Carter, Daniels, Simmons, Watson. All of your competition and then some."
Fitz isn't positive but he swears Daisy stresses Simmons more than anyone else and he has to make a conscious effort not to react.
"Hmm… well, maybe I'll make an appearance. Just… just long enough for you to make me suck up to the right people and grab some champagne."
"More like grab some ass."
"What was that?"
"I said, 'more like grab some apps.' We both know you care more about the food than the booze."
"Right."
"Let's talk suits."
"Let's not."
"Maybe you should get a boutonniere…"
"A bout… what on Earth would I need a..."
"Perhaps a Daisy or, better yet, an English Rose."
Fitz stops immediately at Daisy's words, mouth dropping open and alarm bells going off in his head. He frantically tries to figure out what to say, what believable denial he can come up with, but draws a complete and utter blank. The panic that seems to flow through him must be evident because Daisy merely shrugs her shoulders and says, "Just a thought," before sipping at her tea.