Fitz was in the workshop the next morning, tinkering away at one of his drones, when he heard the front door clang. Did Mack forget to lock up last night?

"Mack? Is that you?" Fitz called, peering into the other room and squinting through his safety goggles against the bright light of the office. Ouch. The speed at which his eyes snapped shut made him powerfully and immediately aware of his hangover. C'mon, liver, you shoddy bastard, where's your moxy. If Fitz had been in charge of quality control for the human body, well - suffice to say, things would be pretty different. Not that he thought he could do better than God… Mum'd box my ears if I ever-

A loud, metallic rattle jumped him out of his dizzying stream of consciousness. The ensuing flinch staggered at his dubstep brain, and his stomach roiled as he swore under his breath at the intrusion. Someone - not Mack - was making their way towards the connecting doorway. Fitz swallowed his bile long enough to shout, "We're not open yet! You'll have to come back in an hour!"

The sound of their footsteps getting nearer had him huffing in irritation. Did I stutter? This was hardly the time to come round uninvited. And on a Sunday, too. "I said we're closed!" If he had to deal with a customer in this state, he'd almost certainly cost Fungineers some of their hard-won goodwill.

The person finally came into view, and Fitz dropped his soldering torch with a groan. "You."

There was very little justice in the way Jemma Simmons managed to look so fresh-faced and put together first thing in the morning, when his mouth tasted like one of the fart bubbles in the Bog of Eternal Stench.

She held up a paper bag and a tall to-go coffee cup, lifting them in front of her like a shield. "Scone? I got there early so I could grab some of the blueberry before they sold out."

This is a trick. "What, did they fall on the floor or something?"

"Of course not." A flash of indignance sparked in her eyes, and she shut them, breathing deep. When she spoke again, it was with forced composure. "I'm not here to fight with you." She took a tentative step forward. "I got you tea and ibuprofen… I thought you could probably use it, after the way you were wobbling last night." She set down the bag on a clear spot of his work table, ignoring the way he stiffened at her intrusion.

"I can take care of my own blasted hangover, thank you very much." He grabbed the bag anyway and gave the contents a suspicious sniff. Buttery and delightful. He couldn't remember the last time he'd made it down to 3 Brothers Bakery before all the scones were gone; they were so good, everyone wanted to know the Koenig triplets' secret.

Fitz pushed his goggles up onto his head, reached behind him and grabbed his bottled water off the shelf, before turning an expectant stare on Jemma. She was standing precariously close to his tools, peering down with interest.

"What kind of drone is this?"

"Don't-" it came out a bit too sharp, "touch anything. Please," he finished, a mite more quietly for the sake of his own ears.

She took a step away, placating him, but continued to eyeball his schematics. "A petrol tank, really?" She wrinkled her nose. "Even ignoring the rather prohibitive weight issue, shouldn't we be trying to progress beyond our barbaric reliance on fossil fuels?"

God, but she's condescending. He started to roll his eyes at her, but stopped when it felt like he'd shaken loose the boulder from Raiders instead. "Is this what you do now? Come down to people's workshops and interfere with their business?"

Her eyes widened in peevish disbelief. "Fitz. You literally went to my place of work and sabotaged my lab."

"I didn't-" he squeaked, then paused, mouth hanging open as he tried to think. "Okay, technically maybe I did, but-" His mouth snapped shut. She was the one invading his space, far too early in the morning. You don't owe her anything, champ. "Look, did you just come here to take the piss out of my 'failed' inventions, or what?"

She rolled her eyes and bulldozered on. "I'm only saying that if you switch to a lightweight battery, perhaps mono-molecular graphene, or even the right nickel-metal hydride, you could-"

"Yes, thank you," his eyes narrowed, "I'm well aware of what I could do, but some of us aren't Elon Musk with our billion-dollar battery factories. All right?"

She clasped her hands together and pressed her mouth primly into a line. "It was just an idea," she miffed.

So now she was trying to micromanage his personal projects under the guise of looking out for him? Sure, she has my back... like Brutus had Caesar's. After checking the tamper-resistant seal on the ibuprofen to make sure it was a new bottle, Fitz popped two into his mouth and washed them down with a sip of water. "Mmm." He was done playing nice. "Why're you here?"

She chewed on her lip, dragging it under her teeth and releasing it with a tiny sigh. Stop it. Ever the traitor, Fitz's limbic system started making suggestions that would've earned him a few Hail Marys back in his churchgoing days.

"Well, I actually… I wanted to apologize. And say thank you."

That can't be good. There was no way he was drinking that tea now. "For… what, exactly?"

A wash of guilt screwed across her face. "Okay, first of all, I had no idea Skye was behind this, but…" She hurried into the other room and came back with a large wire cage housing a faded pink rabbit. "Ta-da!" she offered weakly.

Fitz's jaw refused to close. "What. The Hell."

This was raising far too many questions for his current mental capacity. Ward was... in cahoots with Skye and Jemma? For how long? He scoffed. More fool him. Skye hadn't even spoken to Ward at the concert; not that Fitz had been keeping tabs on either of the women. Of course not. What do I care about those two she-devils? He doubted he could even guess Jemma's favorite drink. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she'd never ordered the same thing twice, because he certainly hadn't been counting.

"Fitz?" She shuffled forward and set the rabbit hutch at his feet. "For what it's worth, I couldn't tell you were missing this little fellow at all."

He gaped. "That's hardly the point, don't you think?" Wait. She was watching my act?

Jemma's brow twisted cutely. No, not cutely. Evilly. "Look, she only meant it as a bit of a prank. And the bunny is here, unharmed-"

"Yeah, and what exactly am I meant to do with it?" His voice climbed as he gestured to the workshop. "Does this look like a zoo to you?"

"Well then tell me where to take it! Unless that's too much trouble for you." Ah, there was that fun defensiveness she always liked to regard him with. "So, what-" she raised both eyebrows, "back to the Talbot mansion?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you." So she could do her superhero schtick, give the little girl her bunny and save the day? Fitz would be damned before he'd let that happen. "All of the show animals stay at the pet shop."

"All right, that's fine, I'll just-" she reached for the cage handles.

"Wait, wait! Just let me think," he snapped. Maybe he should let Ward stew for a bit. And Betty Talbot never had gotten to play with the creature. Maybe I could swoop in like a goddamn superhero for once.

Fitz bent over to grab the handles himself, and got a head full of vertigo and a noseful of rabbit stench for his efforts. His hands flew up to cover his mouth as his stomach did a soccer-stand wave, and he careened desperately towards the trash bin. Breathing deep, he held up a hand, nausea receding just in time. "On second thought, if you could deliver that to Grant for me, that would be very helpful, thank you."

She nodded once. "Roger that." There was a beat of waiting, a strand of hair being tucked behind one ear. "Well, I suppose I'll be off, then, shall I?" She hefted the cage into her arms.

Fitz hobbled back into his chair. His legs, apparently, had decided they were on strike. In fact, his entire body was forming a picket line of reasons not to move. He grabbed the paper bag from the bakery. Screw it. He was hungry.

"Jemma!" he called, as she neared the door to the front room.

"Yes?" She turned her torso as best she could without bumping the cage into anything.

"There are two scones here. Didn't you want one?"

"Oh!" She hesitated for a long moment. "No, those are for you and Mack. Or, I suppose, both for you, if you were feeling peckish." She gave him a small smile. "I did say I was sorry."

She actually hadn't, but Fitz decided he could let it go, just this once. "Hey, erm, Jemma? What was the second thing?"

She paused just inside the door and turned once again, fumbling a tad as she tried to brace the hutch between her hip and the doorframe. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you said- you said you wanted to apologize and thank me. What, er, what was the thanks for?"

Her grin, wider this time, bloomed like the spread of watercolor on crisp, clean paper. "Ah, yes! Well, Lance was telling me all about Bobbi last night."

"Uhhh…" Fitz's gut churned like fish gravel. Shite. She knew he'd set her up? Good thing he hadn't drunk that definitely-poisoned tea.

Jemma didn't seem upset, though, as she carried on with her upbeat chatter. "I just wondered how you knew that I was looking for someone to guest spot on the show? With her background in biochem, and well, I don't have to tell you how camera-ready Bobbi is!" Jemma laughed, "She's amazing. And to think I might never have known about her!"

Fitz boggled a bit as Jemma swept out of the room with a wave. Well, that revenge scheme went straight to crap. Of course, sparkling conversationalist that she was, Jemma'd be the one person who'd welcome Hunter's rants about his ex. And of course Fitz's attempts to annoy her had only helped make her brilliant, popular show even more brilliant and popular.

Fitz shook his head slowly at the closing door. Story of my bloody life.

"You owe me about four favors," Skye groaned, resting her arm on the car window to let the breeze slide through her fingers. "I still can't believe you dragged me along for that."

"Well, as it was you who stole the rabbit, it did seem rather fair." When Jemma'd called the pet store to arrange to come by, Ward had been willing to work out the return in a friendly fashion, though he insisted he would only deal with Skye.

"But it was so uncomfortable! You heard what he said, right?" Skye squinted and put on an exaggerated politician's smile, complete with finger guns. "'Anything for you, Skye.' Ugh! I mean, I know I'm a good kisser," she smirked, " but I barely made out with the guy - it's like, why are you so obsessed with me, buddy?"

"Aww." Jemma reached over and patted Skye's arm reassuringly. "Well, it's done now. You never have to see him again if you don't want to." She pulled up to a red light and turned to her friend. "So, lunch? I'm starving, I haven't eaten since half six."

Skye gave her a wry, appraising look. "You know it's the weekend, right? What were you doing?"

"Oh, erm. I, er…" she flushed, "Just buying a few scones before the mad rush."

Skye made a noise a bit like a lovesick rhinoceros. "Oh my god, and you actually got some? Those scones are like crack!" At Jemma's silent agreement, Skye pursed her lips and looked at her knowingly. "So… why today? Special occasion?" Her eyes snapped open. "Jemma Simmons, did you take a guy home last night and have to buy him breakfast?"

"No!" Jemma reached over and turned up the air conditioning. "I was just… normal things…" Jemma realized she was blinking far too often. "I mean, I also had to go down to Fungineers and apologize for your bit of borrowing, so-" Stop blinking. "You're welcome, incidentally… for that…" She cut herself off with a sharp inhale.

"Wait. You talked to Fitz and Mack?" She blew out a low breath. "How'd that go?"

Jemma ran her fingers along the steering wheel. "Just Fitz, actually. And surprisingly, fine." She returned Skye's skeptical eyebrow raise with a wide-eyed one of her own. "While he was less than welcoming at first-"

"-super bitchy, got it-"

"-I did have the opportunity to take a look at his technical work. It's quite impressive!"

Skye shrugged. "Okay, so… what. You like him now? You do remember about the ginger beer, right? And, you know, that whole 'being a butthead' thing he's got going on?"

Jemma laughed lightly. "No, no. Like him? Don't worry." The very thought was absurd. "Even if he were my type, his MoreThanThat profile is completely preposterous." Jemma nearly swerved into a curb when Skye punched her arm.

"Get out. He's on MoreThanThat?! Oh, you gotta show me. This is going to be awesome."

Jemma clicked her tongue. "Really, Skye." But she pulled the application up anyway and handed the phone over.

Skye swiped through the details, loud chortles breaking through smaller giggles as she read select bits aloud. "Okay, this guy is way too into monkeys."