"Mack, cover for me? I'm goin' to lunch."

Mack unfolded a stapled set of multi-colored pages and held it up. "Our break isn't til 1:30."

"I know. I've, erm. I've got a meeting."

His partner's easy smile puffed readily into the side of his mouth. "Is this 'meeting' with Captain Chemistry?"

Fitz glanced warily over and declined to answer. "Do you want me to get you anything while I'm out?"

"Nah, I'm good." As Fitz started to leave, Mack went back to arranging the Fungineers brochures neatly at the front table of their station. "Hey, Turbo?"

"Yep?" Fitz turned. Probably wants a protein bar. Possibly a dozen eggs and an entire cod.

Mack gave him a once-over, then shook his head with a knowing smile. "Never mind. Have fun at lunch, buddy."

Not long afterwards, Fitz was sitting across a rickety table from the woman in question, digging into his own ham-and-cheese hero sandwich while she went full-tilt on a styrofoam plate of fish tacos. That looks messy. He grabbed a napkin and handed it over, brushing her hand with his. She looked up oddly, keeping her hand near his. Oh, what the Dickens. This was a date, wasn't it? Does she expect me to hold her hand? He reached for it, but fumbled when Jemma unexpectedly coughed into her opposite fist.

Wee baby Christ's nappies, I'm bad at this.

Jemma was just working up the words she wanted to say something when suddenly, Fitz's hand had stumbled onto hers, awkwardly brushing the back of her wrist and pulling back within seconds.

"You, er, you had a bug on you," he mumbled, at the exact moment that she started with, "The reason I wanted to meet-"

They both paused, feeling a bit like strangers standing in an elevator door, until Jemma blurted out, "Do you want a job on Science is Super?"

Fitz's head bolted up, an indecipherable gaze snapping onto hers. "That's why you asked me to lunch? You want me to work for you?"

"I want you to work with me. Similar to Bobbi's role, but you'd provide a physics perspective rather than a biology one." She rushed ahead, "I wouldn't be your boss."

"Who, then? Skye?" His face twisted dubiously.

Jemma tamped down the flush of annoyance at his tone. If she was being honest, she'd expected him to say yes immediately. "Skye does have quite a lot of input in daily operations, but technically, the woman in charge is Melinda May - she heads up the broadcasting division for the entire region."

Fitz eyebrows jetpacked to his hairline. "Melinda May! Well, that's very alarming. I've never met anyone so scary, and that was on the happiest day of her life."

"Shhh!" Jemma glanced around in alarm. "She's here somewhere - I saw her talking to Mayor Coulson." She tucked a strand of hair behind an ear, slight disapproval schooling her features. "And she's not scary, Fitz, just quiet. She's been grooming Skye to take over the station, so I doubt you'd have to see her much either way."

She waited, but Fitz seemed dedicated to shoving as much food in his mouth as possible. Jemma let out a sigh. "You could even do behind-the-scenes consulting, stay off camera completely. Though I certainly won't mind if you appear as the Amazing Leopold - or perhaps, his long-lost twin?" She arched an eyebrow invitingly. "Just think about it? I've been approved to recommend whomever I like, but they need a decision soon."

Fitz was staring at her, licking his lips against the juice dripping from his food, his face puzzling her out like an equation. "I'll think about it," he landed on finally.

"Good!" She nodded, then cleared her trash into the nearest bin. "Well, I've got to get back. No rest for the wicked smart."

He cracked a smile at that. "Explains my trouble sleepin'."

After busing his own side of the table, Fitz brought his hand to hover just over the small of her back as they walked out of the picnic area next to Taco Tuesday's. "I mean it, Jemma. I'll let you know."

Jemma stared after him as he walked in the direction of his own booth, noting the shape of his arse inside his trousers but being far too sophisticated to snap a photo. Disappointment tapped lightly at her chest like a slender tree branch in a storm window, and she forced herself to take her hand off her mobile and put it back into her purse. Don't think too much about it. Do something else. Thankfully, her afternoon was meant to be busy - and she didn't need to spend her time worrying over a man, even if it was technically work-related. I'm better than that - I'm a superhero, for goodness' sakes. Belting her resolve into place, she put Fitz out of her mind; then Jemma Simmons, certified genius and beloved children's icon, went back to kicking science butt for her fans.

Fitz walked back in something of a daze. Jemma wanted to hire him. Not date him. As soon as the question had left her (gorgeous, plump, irresistible) lips, like the first blast of hot air after opening a car door in August, he wished it'd been the other way. The reality of his feelings crashed down, a falling piano in an old cartoon, and he couldn't even do anything about it anymore. Fitz flashed back to the previous week, the town square park and his atrocious attempt at "flirt-warfare" - the sting of seeing her recoil under his touch still echoed against his teeth. After all, though he covered it admirably, Fitz was no Casanova. It was no wonder he'd misread her completely.

And now he had a choice to make. Could Mack help him talk through things? God, what do I even tell Mack? Well, if he was going to bring up the possibility of abandoning his friend to go join the enemy ranks, he should probably bring the man some food. Jogging back to the restaurant stands, he got in line at Lai Shi Grill. Mack had a weakness for their Spicy Beef Noodle. As he stood in the queue, though, bouncing his heel to release some energy as he thought about this new conundrum, he overheard a couple of young men in front of him talking.

"Ethan, I just thought of the perfect name." The speaker, a twenty-something with a vague approximation of a beard, tapped his friend's arm to get his attention. "I'd be the electricity superhero, so maybe… The ElecTrickster?"

"Elect-Rickster? You'd sound like a senator. Just use your name, doofus. I'm sure you can do something with Lincoln."

Lincoln chuffed placidly. "It's called a secret identity; all superheroes have them."

"Hmm, let me think about that." Ethan pretended to consider. "She hired some lady named Bobbi to play Bionic Bobbi, so no, sorry, your argument is invalid."

Lincoln hummed appreciatively. "Man. Bionic Bobbi, Captain Chemistry… that's a hot cast. And Skye…"

"Dude. Skye." Ethan agreed. "Too bad she's not around today."

"I'm just happy they asked me to rig sets for this thing. I'm hoping if I impress Simmons, she'll offer me the new guest spot."

"You really think she's gonna give you a shot? No offense, dude, I see you as more of a techie than an actor."
Lincoln shrugged. "They like taking chances on new people over at KBUS. I still can't believe Skye got her job without going through any of the proper channels."

"Hey, man, when you're good, you're good."

Lincoln shook his head with a wry laugh. "Guess I better be great then!"

Ethan and Lincoln reached the front of the queue and stepped up to order their food, and Fitz realized he was drumming his fingers nervously against his thigh. Great. So now not only did he have to worry about choosing whether or not to take the job, he had to worry about competing against entitled-sounding little electricians who couldn't even come up with anything better than ElectRickster for a superhero name. Honestly, it's not that hard. ShockJock. Static King. Lightning Bug. And those were just off the top of his head. As he placed his own order for takeaway, Fitz forced himself to relax. Jemma had all but offered him the position. All he had to do was figure out if he could really see himself working with Jemma of all people, instead of Mack. Fitz snorted.

Maybe my on-set name can be Major-General Anxiety.

-o-

"I mean… you know how grateful I am, Mack." He'd been the only person to believe in Fitz back when he needed it. "If you want me to stay at Fungineers, there's not even a question."

"Fitz, buddy." Mack, inexplicably unconcerned, dug into his noodle bowl and swallowed a large bite before answering. "I ran things on my own for years, you know."

"Yeah but that was before-"

"Before we started offering entertainment, yeah, I remember." Mack looked thoughtful for a moment. "Look, I appreciate everything you've done for the business, but it's never been your dream job."

"Neither is this," Fitz rushed to add. "I mean, I'd love to be working in a top lab somewhere, part of a development team, that kind of thing. Working with Jemma would just be," he shrugged, face pinking, "a lateral move at best." Wouldn't mind seeing her lateral moves. Fitz groaned to himself. He'd have to stop thinking of her that way, probably, if this was going to work out.

Mack grinned as he stuck his chopsticks up in the leftovers, setting the takeout box on the table. "Why aren't you happier about this? She said you could feature your gadgets on the show, right?"

Fitz made a noise of assent as he scanned the e-mail Jemma had just sent him with various (admittedly very tempting) responsibilities he'd get to choose between if he accepted. He was mostly looking at it for Mack's benefit, though. Much as he had with Jemma's dating profile, he'd committed the information to memory almost as soon as it had become available.

"In that case, Turbo, I don't see how you can pass up the opportunity."

Fitz grimaced. He didn't know why he was making Mack have to convince him to leave. "Could I really work with her, d' you think?" Fitz stole a spring roll, but simply held onto it for a moment. "As much as we argue?"

One of the best things about working with Mack was how steady he was. How well would Fitz do if he was constantly around someone who riled him up? And what if we get into a proper row? He wouldn't be able to just walk out.

Mack let out a low guffaw, grabbing a napkin to clean a bit of splattered broth from between his fingers. "Look, I know you two had a rocky start. But from what I've seen, the only thing that's gonna make it worse," he gave Fitz a knowing look, "is you."

Fitz tried to bite down the retort that immediately sprang to his lips, deciding to take a bite of the spring roll instead. He means well. And, if he was thinking about it, he supposed that between the two of them Jemma did seem a bit more forgiving. She's not above saying sorry.

Fitz thought back to the discussion in 3 Brothers, when Jemma'd reminded him that her video - the explosion that he inadvertently caused - often earned her unwanted attention. He'd been so ashamed of himself, he could barely look at her as he muttered an insufficient apology, and hadn't felt he had any right to try and explain the situation. Why should he get to try and absolve himself, to say he never meant for any of that to happen, when she'd spent weeks or months dealing with judgment and harassment?

But perhaps he did owe her the full story, or at the very least, a little honesty. It was the least he could do, if they were going to be working together.

-o-

Between three mini-shows, running the booth, advertising Fungineers, trying to think of exactly what he wanted to say to Jemma, and the requisite minor disasters that seemed inevitable at events like this (a number of goats escaped from Ward's petting zoo, but Fitz refused to help hunt them down on the basis that they had crazy eyes and they almost unanimously looked pregnant) it was quite late in the afternoon when Fitz finally had the chance to walk back towards the main stage.

She was nowhere to be found, though. It felt strangely impersonal to accept her job offer over the phone, not when she'd set up a lunch meeting in order to extend it. Besides, she hasn't texted you back since this afternoon. Fitz wandered around the side of the stage and rounded the shed they'd ducked into that morning, surprised to see Hunter's friend and cook hanging around nearby.

"Idaho? Are you lost?" He'd not had many opportunities to get to know the man, but Idaho seemed an okay guy. Though one who apparently startled easily.

"Fitz! Hey, man! Snuck up on me!" He laughed, the sound hanging around in the isolated air of this section of the park.

"Just, uh, I'm just doing some catering at this thing! I think I probably am in the wrong place, actually. Huge turnout, huh?"

"Yep, it seems like it gets bigger every year," Fitz agreed. "You haven't seen Jemma Simmons, by any chance, have you?"

"Ahh, sorry, can't help you there." Idaho checked his watch. "Well, you know, it was good running into you! Have a good night!"

"Yeah, all right then, see you." Fitz waved and kept moving down the path. He didn't need to speak to Jemma immediately, but she'd soon be busy with her big finale and he wanted to try to see her before that guy from the Chinese food queue had a chance to work on his pitch.

When one more circuit of the Children's Day Spectacular grounds still didn't produce any sign of her, though, Fitz came back to the shed. She'd be coming back here soon to get her fireworks anyway, so she'd notice if he left a note. Hastily scribbling out "I thought about it - Fitz" on the back of an event map, he walked over to the crate of fireworks and lifted up the dropcloth to tuck the note underneath so it wouldn't fly away.

Which was right around the time Fitz's mouth fell open in shock. Because outside of a few empty cardboard boxes to preserve the crate's shape, it was completely bare. And nestled at the bottom of the container, he spotted a greenish slip of paper.

Fitz swallowed the hedgehog in his throat as his fingers reached down and closed around it. On one side, in the dim light, he was able to make out a short message.

"So that you would not light useless fires on my altar. I am not pleased with you," says the Lord. - Malachi 1:10

The other side looked like a $20 bill.

Author's Notes:

The reference to eggs and cod is based on a hilarious article about Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's diet, which you can look up on The Toast.

Kudos to my beta memorizingthedigitsofpi for the superhero name Lightning Bug.