A/N: I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Simmons' head was full of marshmallows. The "negotiation" with Fitz had gone better than she could possibly have hoped. She swallowed a smirk, ticking off the results of their little chat.

1. Fitz was securely in her anti-Jonesy camp, teaming up against the pillock. Full speed ahead on the Simmons-Fitz prank of the year!

2. She'd successfully prevented his wardrobe from ending up like something out of Flavor Flav's closet.

3. Fitz was now basically her lab lackey. Even with her new responsibilities for Dr. Hall, she'd get to see him practically every day.

Simmons would have been perfectly pleased with that. But in an unexpected development, Fitz had asked her to dinner for the next month. And then, to make matters best, he wanted to take more classes together! She could barely restrain her jazz hands. Yes, she thought smugly, Jemma Simmons is no dummy when it comes to getting her way.

It had been Fitz's last comment, thoughtfulness dipped in honey, that did her in. She'd been silly before, to be so affected by his rejection, when he plainly did want to spend time with her. Suddenly, Simmons felt terrible for snapping at him about his outfit. Of course he wouldn't have anything else to wear. Not everyone could re-purchase an entire semester's worth of clothes on a moment's notice. She'd only meant to help him look respectable, for his own sake, but ensconced in a huff, on the toes of her foul afternoon, it had sounded as if she cared more how he looked with her. And she did want him with her… but there was nothing superficial about it.

Sitting across from Fitz in the cafeteria booth, half-listening to him outline all the classes they should switch into, she couldn't help marveling at how quickly they'd become friends. It's been less than a fortnight, yet I could almost imagine we grew up together. Expectedly, the connection had its root in her delight at finding someone against whom she could match wits. Even when she thought back to how stroppy he'd been in the beginning, she found she didn't mind - that same bristle meant she probably wouldn't need to share his friendship with many people. Despite Fitz's bad sides - stubborn, oversensitive, insufferable - in these last few weeks he'd also exposed good ones - creative, helpful, funny, smart - gradually letting those facets shine, like a crystal painstakingly extracted from a cave wall. It was that slow reveal that had Simmons wondering what secret qualities dwelt deep in Fitz's igneous rock, far below the spiky outer crust.

"Simmons?"

Crumbs. She'd been daydreaming about Fitz's rock walls. "Sorry, what?"

"There's a girl starin' at me."

-o-

"Omigaaawd, Jenna, is that one of my lab coats?"

Simmons showed her teeth in a fair approximation of social grace. "Hello, Tabitha." Perhaps I shouldn't have let him wear it after all. She'd let Fitz's noisy stomach guilt her, and to tell the truth, the lab coat was better than the alternative. "This is Fitz; he's helping me with the myomer project." Tabitha wiggled her fingers, eyes roving over Fitz up like a remote-controlled toy Jeep.

"Sorry about the coat. Would you believe, we forgot he was wearing it!" Simmons forced herself through the mistruth with an overly cheery gaze. It was easier, lying to someone she didn't like. Or when it's to protect Fitz. "But no need to worry! Our very next stop is the lab, and we'll make sure to put it right where it goes."

The grad student turned to the engineer with a slight bounce. "Hi! Fitz? That's a great name. You can call me Bits." She tilted her head like a pomeranian. "Hey, we rhyme!"

Good God. Where's Kibbles when you need her? Simmons regained the woman's attention. "Is Kimberly around?"

"Nope, she's out with her boyfriend. I haaate that guy," she whined, then shot a vapid glance at Fitz. "Not that I hate men! I like men."

"Okay…" Fitz was like a penguin in a tree.

"It's like, super busy in here." Bits looked at them expectantly, twirling a strand glossy hair. "Not a ton of open tables…" she raised her eyebrows, "maybe I could squeeze in…"

"Oh, of all the luck," Simmons tutted regretfully. "We were just leaving. Come along, Fitz!" She jumped to her feet, ignoring Fitz's protests as she plopped her tray on top of his, and pulled him away from the booth. "Toodle-oo!" Her left eye twitched. Toodle-oo? Am I eighty years old?

Fitz was hiding a chuckle behind his hand. He bid Tabitha goodbye in a strange falsetto. "Yes, we really must dash!" he fluted out. "Off to make the lab tickety-boo! Pip-pip! Such fun!" Cheeky git. Simmons gave his arm a good pinch where she still held it, and he squirmed out of her reach, hurrying ahead a few paces. With a final nod at Bits, who was giggling about "suuuch cute accents", Simmons strode to catch up.

"Can't believe she didn't mention how bad y' smell," he joked, waggish. "I hope you've got a scented candle somewhere in the lab?"

Simmons shook her head at him, withering, even as she couldn't stop her smile. "You've hardly room to talk about what's appropriate." She pointed her eyes towards his sandal-covered socks. "And I don't stink half as badly as your impersonation of me."

Fitz stared at Simmons across the lab bench. Even reeking like a dumpster skunk, she was a complete professional. To be fair, here in the monkey lab, the simian stench was enough to supersede any lingering odor on Simmons' clothes. Talking of clothes, while Simmons calibrated the myomers, Fitz was currently being forced to browse through her favorite store website because she had some "Preferred Customer" account. He didn't doubt it. She probably paid for their summer homes. The shop's entire selection appeared hand-tailored to Simmons' personal style. Not that her clothes were bad, although Fitz did wonder if her penchant for Doctor Who had colored her ideas of what a "grown-up" would wear. She seemed to like structured clothes: blazers and knits, button-ups, the occasional tie. It didn't look especially comfortable compared to T-shirts and jeans, but if Simmons could dress like a man, so could Fitz. And she didn't even let me open the A&F site that Jonesy recommended.

He chose frugally, however. The only time Fitz was ever greedy was at the cafeteria buffet. Which, I'm proud to say, I'll be seeing a lot more of. Fitz's meal plan only allowed him access five times a week, but he now had a month of free meals to look forward to, per his agreement with Simmons. Fitz patted himself on the back for that bit of cracking business acumen.

Ah, yes. Food. Fitz grabbed a pilfered pizza roll out of his lab coat pocket, wolfing it down in two bites. Simmons had made him leave before he was full. Which was strange, although it was probably down to that loony Tabitha calling her Jenna. Simmons is so suspicious, that one. It was likely an honest mistake; Americans didn't hear the name Jemma very often. That's a shame. Jemma was really a very pretty name. Fitz mulled it over, batting it around with his tongue and savoring its edges. Jemma. It called up images of small, sparkly, precious things. Of course, Fitz didn't have any use for diamonds except as a cutting tool on his lab instruments. But it was still a nice name.

"All set to test the new wing formations!" Simmons announced brightly. "Have you filled your cart yet? Remember I have that savings code, so you have to buy at least 20 things." She came around to stand behind him, peering at the computer screen over his shoulder. Her breath warmed over his neck and he was momentarily distracted.

"Oh, good choices!"

"Don't sound so surprised." He wasn't a complete chump.

Simmons gently swatted his arm with the back of her hand and turned her focus back to the screen. "Ooh, get that slipover. It'll set off your eyes beautifully."

"Yeah?" That was interesting. Since when does Simmons think about my eyes?

"And this..." she grabbed the mouse, "and this for sure..." she was practically leaning into his back, "three of these..." her caramel hair fell forward, tickling his ear. She tsk'd. "What are these wide ties doing here, Fitz, you'll look like a 70's car salesman!" She changed them out for the skinny variety and clicked the "Checkout" button. "Budge over, Fitz. I have to put in my account information."

Simmons shoved herself next to him now, fully in his personal space, and it didn't bother him nearly as much as it had when they first met. Actually, if he was being honest, having Simmons practically tucked into his side felt… not intrusive, so much as comforting. Safe. Like a railing at the top of a mountain, a solid buttress he could lean on and still take in the view. He drew a deep breath.

And was immediately horrified by her scent. It's like an Easter egg they didn't find 'til St. Andrew's Day. Poor girl couldn't help it, but Fitz didn't have to sit there in the eye of the boggy storm. Naturally Fitz was much too polite to say anything, and he didn't recoil, exactly, but allowed the stink to chivvy him off towards the myomer table, which was currently covered in unfinished gadgets from his tech case.

The farty smell, and replacing his entire closet, had got him thinking about Jonesy.

"So… don't be angry, but…"

A/N: Sorry for the wait! It's a holiday weekend (Happy Birthday, USA!) and I got pressed into the chain gang of familial responsibility. Not that I mind. I like my family.

Thanks to starbrightnights and serennog for slang. Folks, apparently things like "toodle-pip" are extremely outdated. But I'm pretty sure Fitzsimmons could say any crazy thing they wanted and Americans would just chalk it up to them being British.

St. Andrew's Day is Scotland's national holiday. It's on November 30, so if you left an Easter egg out for that many months it would smell pretty bad. (Scottish people, this is all from Wikipedia; please correct me if I'm wrong.)

If you were worried about Tabitha becoming a regular character, you don't have to be. I just liked the idea that Simmons would chill out enough to let Fitz go to dinner in a lab coat and sweatpants.

And hey, they're back in the lab! Science and monkeys in the next chapter.