Bloody Hell. Fitz drummed his fingers against the steering wheel of Mack's van, trying to suppress the rageful urge to honk. He'd been just about to back into a parking space when some arsehole had crept in behind him and stolen it.
Gritting his teeth, he shifted and prepared to circle around to a less desirable spot, only to find that a supermarket employee was busily (and slowly) collecting trolleys directly in front of his bumper.
Right. Of course. Fitz took a deep breath and reminded reminded himself that often, people were not conspiring to ruin his day, and checked his rearview mirror. To his groaning dismay, he saw the sedan half-out of the spot, plainly in the midst of re-positioning itself after overestimating the turn angle. The small Honda crept forward and back, once, twice, and once more for good measure, eventually managing it so the driver's side door was no longer flush against the next car. By then, the line of carts had been pushed towards the store entrance, and Fitz sighed in irritation as he scanned the rows for an available space.
Then he saw her getting out of the little Accord, and everything clicked.
-o-
She'd just weighed her carrots and was returning to her trolley when, like a pimple on graduation day, there he was. Worse, he seemed to be stealing her shopping cart.
"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" Surely he wasn't so rude or petty that he would attempt to hide her purchases from her. Or perhaps he would. He had put her name on a chip blacklist for no discernible reason.
"You were blockin' the aisle." He said it slowly, patronizing, as if she needed time to process the words. "Honestly, I saw what a terrible driver you were out there in the carpark, but I thought y' knew enough not t' cause a traffic jam inside the store."
Jemma immediately flushed pink. He'd seen her botched parking job? She was incredibly self-conscious about her driving, more so now that she had to do it on the wrong side of the road.
Of course, his condescending tone set her teeth on edge. She gave him a withering look and jerked her trolley back from his grasp, unable to help the shrill note that invaded her voice.
"Perhaps you should stop following me around and touching my things!" She turned decisively away, irked by the sight of his sputtering, goldfish face.
-o-
Who the Hell does she think she is? One taste of fame and she assumed everyone who happened to be in the store at the same time was "following" her. The ego on that one, for God's sake! Fitz was glad his mum had raised him better than that.
He watched her flounce off, only to stop after a few paces and begin examining the dairy selection with far too much aplomb. What the Dickens is she up to? Was she expecting an apology? (She couldn't possibly be that deluded.) Was this some show of territorial aggression à la no, you leave? Was she waiting around to "accidentally" trip him or roll over his foot? The manky little sneak. He was fairly sure she wasn't just standing that way because it made her figure look incredible. Not that he cared two whits about her figure. She's probably just trying to use her female wiles to distract-
"Hey, Mr. Fitz." Mike Peterson and his son scooted by in a cart that looked like a fire engine. Ace waved shyly from behind a quizzical I-know-you-but-I-don't-know-from-where squint. Normally, it pleased Fitz to no end that most kids wouldn't recognize him without his tux and cape. Still, sometimes it was nice to feel important. "You remember Mr. Fitz, right Ace? He was at your birthday party."
"Nice t' see you again, Ace." Fitz liked the Petersons. They were one of the few families who hadn't cancelled on him after Captain Overrated came to town. "What've you got there?"
"My coloring book…" Ace gave him a small smile and held it up.
"Avengers, eh? Who's your favorite? Y'know, Thor's got a magic hammer."
Ace shook his head. "I like the Hulk. He's a scientist, but he's also super strong. Captain Chemistry says I can be a scientist too."
Even if Jemma'd been standing halfway across town instead of a few yards away, it seemed to Fitz as if the mere mention of her name would've summoned her. Like a sexy Voldemort. She turned and caught Ace's gaze, and the little boy's face went slack with recognition. His eyes went round and wide, hope blooming in them as he gripped his father's sleeve and pointed mutely.
"Captain Chemistry is one smart lady," Jemma tilted her head conspiratorially. "I'd listen to her."
Fitz couldn't help the scoff that took over his face at that. Really? Butting in on my conversation? How desperate for attention was she? But Ace wasn't looking at Fitz anymore - his focus was solely on the woman in front of him.
"Where's your cape?" he whispered, starstruck.
"Can you keep a secret?" Oh, she's loving this. Fitz wasn't sure his stomach could take any more of Jemma's gloating. She looked to both sides, leaned forward and murmured, "I'm undercover."
Ace nodded, straightening his shoulders before putting a fist to his chest in the CapChem salute. "I won't tell," he promised her seriously.
With a wink at Mike - what the Hell is that about - Jemma returned the salute, dropped a box of butter into her trolley and sauntered away. A seething Fitz barely registered the Petersons' goodbyes as they wheeled off in the opposite direction.
It was clear that, in addition to stealing his clients and his parking spaces, Jemma Simmons got her kicks by stealing Fitz's thunder. And if there was one thing he couldn't abide, it was a puffed-up bully. The gloves were off.
Little Miss Science Sweetheart is gettin' taken down a peg.
-o-
"Yes, they have your brand. Right, ginger beer, not ginger ale. Because…" Jemma sighed into the phone as Skye continued to stress the differences, "... for the weak, you told me. Okay, see you soon." She'd just hit the "end" button on her phone and was reaching for the spicy-sweet brew (which, according to Skye, tasted like slightly alcoholic childhood dreams) when a distinctive, long-fingered hand darted in front of her and grabbed the last six-pack.
"Oh, sorry. Were y' goin' to get this? Blimey, that's a damn shame." Fitz's smirk was palpable in his insufferable Scottish brogue. He settled the bottles into his trolley with a clink before wheeling directly behind her and spoke again, low and combative. "Maybe just grab some Diet Coke and Mentos and see if you can go viral again?"
-o-
Holy mother of- Fitz returned to his cart, paper-wrapped bundle of steak in hand, and nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked around accusingly for Jemma, but the saucy little ninja was nowhere to be found.
Still, he couldn't very well keep shopping with a live lobster menacing him from the top basket of his trolley. The smell alone was making him keep his distance; he didn't even want to think about what foodstuffs the monster might've splashed. Lord, I'll have to replace all the perishables. Ears red, Fitz hurried back to the meat counter and mumbled out an embarrassed plea for help. The butcher seemed to be biting down a laugh as he hoisted the crustacean and replaced him in the tank. It was only then that Fitz caught a glimpse of the woman herself, a shining example for Treehouse Falls' impressionable youth, snickering at him from behind a tall stack of paper towels.
-o-
Jemma eyed the two open registers, noting the way one of them was backed up with bedraggled mothers, crying babies, and at least one person who (by the look of their purchases) had never stopped preparing for Y2K. She counted the items in her own trolley - exactly ten - and with a relieved exhale, slipped into the fast-checkout queue, pleased at seeing only a couple of people ahead of her.
Still, given the way her day had been going, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when Fitz came rushing over to the cart in front of her, holding up a package of tea biscuits. "Found 'em!" he nodded to the cashier, before side-eyeing Jemma and unloading his trolley with careful and deliberate slowness - a feat which, perhaps intentionally, allowed her to count no less than a dozen items in his cart.
Jemma gripped the handle of her trolley, fingers clenching white as she debated whether to say anything to the freckle-faced young woman ringing them up. It's simple rudeness, honestly. They were all in a hurry, or they wouldn't be in this queue. The fact that Fitz would so flagrantly break the rules, for no reason other than to get under her skin - well, it's unfair, that's what it is! And that awful, cocky smirk! It was perfectly reasonable for Jemma to feel a flush of anger creeping up her skin. She was incensed, of course, not merely on her own behalf but for the other shoppers as well.
"You've got twelve items," she hissed under her breath.
"Sorry, did you say something?" Fitz finally turned to acknowledge her directly.
"Your total. You've more than ten items. You'll have to use the other queue." She was simply stating a fact. He needn't look so insulted.
Fitz's eyebrows scurried up like a hamster climbing on cage bars, but he matched her hushed tone. "Not that it's any of your business, but these three are the same. They count as one."
Her eyelid twitched with the desire to upend a carton of eggs over his head. "That's not how it works, Fitz!"
He clucked. "Oh, Jemma." He placed his last item, the ginger beer, on the conveyor belt before delivering the facial equivalent of a pitying head pat. "You've not lived here very long yet, but don't worry - you'll get the hang of things soon enough." With that, Fitz curled his lip smugly and turned to their checker, commenting, "Ever tried this brand? It's delicious."
Author's Notes:
I'm fairly certain that this isn't actually a problem for most people, but just in case, I wanted to point out to anyone reading that the majority of this story is them (very gradually) going from enemies to friends to lovers... And because they started out as relative strangers, I feel like it's important to build them up as proper enemies before I start to unmake all of that. So, yes, please expect a slow build. I definitely ship them, and they'll definitely get there, but we're going to have some good old-fashioned bickering and sassiness first.
:-D
Special thanks to my betas this chapter, amandajbruce for helping me think of ideas for supermarket pranks, and memorizingthedigitsofpi for the "Diet Coke and Mentos" burn!
Jemma being a bad driver is a head canon that makes a lot of sense to me (especially if she was so busy at school and living on/near campus that she never really needed to learn til she was an adult, and after that, Fitz was probably content to drive most places so she may not have gotten much practice). I first thought about Jemma's bad driving after reading the fic windscreen wipers by jemmasimmmons on AO3
Also, the live lobster bit, I think I got it from one of those "Imagine your OTP" posts on tumblr. I'm not 100% sure - I remember seeing the idea on tumblr somewhere and wanting to incorporate it into the supermarket shenanigans.
FYI, ginger beer is actually delicious - it's just like ginger ale, but much spicier. Alcoholic ginger beer exists also, and is slightly less mind-blowingly good in my opinion (it's less fizzy?) but still pretty good.
Also, can we get some cashiers to weigh in on this? How does the 10-Items-or-Less rule actually work?