Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of Shield
On Fitz's seventeenth birthday his life altered. Not noticeably. Not yet.
He'd seen her around, of course. It was almost impossible to miss the girl who was the only one younger than him by barely two months, who was in most of his classes, and whose accent defined her as English.
He'd been expecting a challenge at the Academy, looking forward to it, even. And there was the red-haired woman who rivalled his knowledge in certain areas of applied mechanics, and that tall boy who was slightly quicker when it came to Taylor's series, but no-one annoyed him quite as much as her.
It wasn't because she was younger than him, or that she excelled in chemistry (which he had never quite grasped like physics), it was that she made it seem so effortless.
She never mumbled when offering an answer in class.
She never looked anything other than put together when the rest of them were still trying to wake up.
She never seemed stressed or worried, nothing fazed her.
But today, the annoyance increased to a maximum.
He was yawning, because his mum forgot about the time difference again and called at 4 in the morning to wish him a happy birthday. He was frustrated because he got question 11 wrong, and for the life of him he can't remember what the correct answer was. And she was sitting in front of him with her stupid prefect posture and perfect notes and perfect score.
After class, he ran after her, determined that something good would come of this. He deserved that much on his birthday.
'What did you get for question 11?' he blurted, breathing heavily because, damn it, fitness wasn't one of his strong points. Although knowing her, she probably ran every day or something equally ridiculous.
'Sorry?' Unfailing polite, her eyes were narrowed in confusion.
Fitz kicked himself. 'Fitz.' He said offering his hand which she ignored because her hands were full, so he stuffed it back in his pocket and kicked himself again. He didn't say Leo, because this was strictly work, and he was half hoping she'd heard of him.
'Last names? Simmons.'
'What did you get for question 11?'
Simmons was finally seventeen, and nothing was going to ruin this day for her.
Especially not that imbecile Fitz.
She had woken up extra early to treat herself to a full breakfast and had had an extra-long conversation with her mum during lunch. It was turning out to be a good day, birthday worthy even, but now she had to go and check on Fitz.
Ever since their abrupt meeting a few months ago, he'd kept his distance, and she had kept hers. Although she would never admit it, she was a tad jealous of the Scottish scientist. Wherever she went she heard his name mentioned, either complaining that he'd outshone everyone in a class again, or muttering about his latest idea.
No-one ever whispered about her.
And then some senile Professor Hall had decided it would be a good idea to shove them together for one of the biggest projects of the year. Everyone was expecting something mind-blowing, the pressure was pilling, and they might have pulled it off if Fitz would just work already.
He'd deemed the topic boring and unnecessary in their first study session and left soon after, leaving her to sort through the books. It was due in two weeks and in her original time plan they were supposed to be adding finishing touches.
She wasn't supposed to be trudging through the pouring rain to get to her partner's dorm room, so she could try and convince him to at least start writing.
Simmons didn't bother knocking, because he never heard her and the first day she had ended up waiting twenty minutes for him to open the door.
Fitz glanced up from his desk at the sound, looking only mildly surprised. Simmons was fairly sure she was the only one who visited his room.
And it showed. Clambering over laundry and the odd spanner or screwdriver, Simmons made her way to largest pile of papers and started going through it. She was looking for a sign of work done on the project, and instead saw dozens of designs for new technology, some only half finished and most covered in tea stains.
'It's over there.' Fitz pointed across the room, where a thin wad of paper lay on top of his chest of drawers. 'Did it last night.'
Simmons grabbed the pile and started shuffling through them. There was no way he did this in one night. And it was true his handwriting was nearly illegible and he had a tendency to miss out words, but it was good. Better than good, it was brilliant.
'Oh, and there's some waffles if you want them. Strawberries and cream.' Fitz offered her the plate without looking at her, 'Happy birthday.'
Simmons took it.
It was his nineteenth birthday and Fitz was terrified. He'd told Simmons that he had never been big on birthday parties as a child, and although she understood completely (like always), he'd seen the flash of determination on her face.
Over the last week or so, when casually mentioning his birthday he had carefully monitored her reaction. It ranged from forced nonchalance to a look of slight panic.
By the time the day dawned he was almost certain. Simmons was throwing him a party.
He had been busy all day demonstrating a new invention to a professor and by the time he was standing outside his door it was already getting dark, giving her plenty of time to set up. Fitz took a deep breath. He wasn't very good at social interactions, and in his tiny room everything was bound to be far too cramped. Although he would've much rather just collapsed onto his bed, he wanted to make an effort. For Simmons.
Hoping she had had the sense to clear away his gathering collection of dirty mugs, and plastering a smile on his face, Fitz opened the door. Shoving the balloons out of his way he found that his room was empty.
There was a cake on his desk and balloons everywhere but the only person he could see was Simmons. She was sitting on his bed fiddling with her hands and wearing a ridiculous luminous green party hat.
'I really wanted to throw you your first birthday party,' she said looking at him wirily, 'I ordered a cake, and bought balloons and even managed not to tell you. But it turns out I forgot about the invitations.'
Fitz can't help but laughing at that. Perfect Simmons, with her lists and notes and obsessive cleanliness had forgotten about the most important aspect of a party. He sat down next to her on his bed, if nothing else; his room was spotless for the first time since he'd moved in.
'I wasn't sure who to invite anyway,' Simmons continued. 'None of the professors would've come and you're not speaking to the engineering lot after the fight about who the best Doctor was.'
It was true. Fitz would stand by Tom Baker until the end of time and space, even if it meant ignoring his engineering classmates. After he and Simmons had spent more and more time together, other friends had become somewhat superfluous.
It was better with just them anyway.
'Best first birthday party ever.' He told her and jumped up to cut the cake.
For the first time, Simmons was alone on her birthday. She was turning nineteen, and had convinced her parents that she would be just fine spending her birthday alone in America. Besides, she wouldn't be alone, she would have Fitz.
And then she didn't.
A week before, when they'd been planning a birthday of watching back-to-back episodes of Star Trek with buckets of Ben and Jerry's cookie dough, Fitz had had a phone call.
His mum was ill. He flew to Scotland two days later.
It was unfortunate, she admitted, but there was no way she was going to throw a hissy fit when he was in a worried frenzy about his mother. So, she had helped him pack, told him she would be just fine and asked him to call her when he landed.
Simmons wasn't regretting it, but there was no denying she was lonely.
It was quiet without Fitz. Really, oddly, deafeningly silent.
She had already copied out her notes for him, and followed up on notes for the classes that they didn't have together. She had cleaned her room, and phoned her brother and now she was left seeing how many times she could spin in her chair without feeling sick.
She could go to the Boiler Room, but she didn't feel like drinking, or dancing or making small talk, really. Plus she wouldn't really know anyone there. No-one would wish her happy birthday, because no-one would know.
She could do her homework, but that was too depressing to do as a birthday activity, even for her (and she'd already finished it all. And started on Fitz's).
So she ended up watching TV and eating ice-cream alone.
The phone rang. Fitz. Finally.
Fitz's twenty-first birthday was quiet. Simmons had tried to convince him to go out, and Fitz had countered with staying in and working on his new idea for a tranquilizer rifle. Simmons had offered to make pancakes and it was quickly agreed upon as a fool proof compromise.
He was making his way back to his and Simmons' new apartment from picking up golden syrup when he heard it.
'Fitzsimmons!'
The nickname wasn't new but it was usually applied to him and Simmons together. One of their professors had started calling them that and it had spread so quickly Fitz was almost convinced it had been planned as part of an elaborate prank. He was getting twitchy waiting for the big reveal.
Fitz turned around. It was that guy from Simmons' organic chemistry class. What was his name? Robert? Richard? Ronald?
Fitz panicked. 'Hey… chap.'
'Hi, Fitzsimmons.'
'Just Fitz.'
'Ok…' Rupert looked at him a little oddly but then decided to ignore it. 'Could you give these to your sister for me?' He held out a sheet.
'What?' He didn't have a sister. Why would Ryan think he had a sister?
'Your sister. You know. Clever, pretty, does Chemistry with me? You live together? Dude, it's your sister.' Ross waved the piece of paper in his face again, but Fitz just looked at him blankly.
'Simmons isn't my sister.' He muttered finally taking the notes from Riley.
'Oh. Oh. We all just assumed, I mean, you have the same name, and, you just, well, actually that does explain a few things.' Reese ran a hand through his hair, 'Sorry dude. Just can you tell her that Chris needs to talk to her?'
Chris, that was it. 'Sure.'
Fitz started to stride down the road again; if he wasn't home soon Simmons would have added Nutella to all of the pancakes with no room for negotiation.
His sister? Where did Chris get that impression? They had different accents for goodness sake.
Sister. Wait until Simmons heard about this.
For Simmons' twenty-first birthday she managed to convince her parents to make their first trip to America. The week before they arrived had been a frantic cycle of cleaning, studying and shopping. This was going to be first time they were going to observe her new life, and as much as Fitz kept telling her not to worry, panic was swiftly becoming her default state.
Every time she went home to England, it was like she was a child again, having people cook and clean for her. But, this was the perfect opportunity for her parents to see how much she had actually grown up. She had her own apartment, barely set the fire alarm off anymore and had a PhD and a half under her belt.
It was going to be wonderful. Or else.
She had just popped out for some more shampoo (in case either of her parents had a particular hatred for green apple) and returned to something horrific.
Fitz. Talking with her parents. Her worst nightmare.
She had planned her parents meeting Fitz down to the second. At no point should they have had the chance to talk alone, but here it was happening before her eyes. What if her parents were telling embarrassing stories? What if Fitz was telling embarrassing stories?
Simmons cleared her throat loudly and they whipped around.
'Jemma!' Her mother squealed, running over to hug her. 'We were just talking about you!'
'What?' This couldn't be happening.
'Yep. Really fascinating.' Fitz grinned at her. She shot him her inquisitive look and he only grinned wider.
There was a moment of quiet; Simmons tried to have a telepathic communication with Fitz about what exactly had happened and his smiling got smugger than she thought was possible, whilst her parents exchanged looks.
'You'd better get going.' Fitz reminded her, 'Your reservations are in an hour. And if you want to give your lovely parents a look round the city…'
Simmons grabbed her parents, still fuming, and turned back through the still open doorway. Time for step one on the 'look how collected my life is' tour.
'Are you sure you don't want to come Fitz?' Her mum asked twisting round.
'No, no, I have plans with left over Chinese and a 50 page report.'
Simmons opened her mouth.
'I know it's due tomorrow, Simmons, and yes I will let you read it before I send it in.'
Simmons closed her mouth.
They went to a Mexican restaurant that Simmons loved and Fitz hated.
'So. Fitz, or is it Leo? He's very nice isn't he?' Her parents had obviously discussed this beforehand, they kept glancing at each other, egging each other on.
'Yes. Fitz is very nice.'
'Very nice.' Her mum said absentmindedly. 'And, err, you are, what? Colleagues? Flatmates?'
'Friends. Best friends.'
'Right. Of course.'
Oh my god. They thought they were together, oh my god. Wait until Fitz heard about this.
Fitz's twenty-fourth birthday arrived in the middle of one of the worst snowstorms most people had ever seen. But Fitz wasn't most people, he was Scottish for goodness sake, and there was no way some wee snowflakes were going to stop him getting to his classes.
Simmons kept joking that his Scottish accent had gotten so strong over the past week that she could barely understand him.
The only real consequence was it meant they couldn't go anywhere on Fitz's birthday. Simmons had been disappointed until Fitz pointed out that they probably would have stayed in anyway.
To mark his birthday Simmons had given him a limited edition pair of Quidditch goggles, spent an hour with his mum on Skype whilst Fitz looked on horrified, and decided to bake a cake.
Simmons was usually more of a brownie or pancake making person, but since they couldn't go out and buy a cake like usual, as all the shops were closed, they were left the option of Simmons' baking.
Baking with Simmons was stressful. She stuck to the recipe like it was the law, and shouted at him when he tried vanilla essence too early. He eventually left her to it and went to go finish his new blueprint (with maybe a little of playing around with his new Quidditch goggles) until Simmons called him from the kitchen.
The cake was slightly lopsided, but the real problem was when he ate it. Fitz hardly managed to swallow and smile weakly at her.
'It's awful isn't it? I think I'm jinxed.' Simmons sighed. 'I'll make brownies.'
When Simmons turned twenty-four things between her and Fitz were a little frosty. They'd fought before, of course. You don't spend every day with someone for seven years without a few arguments.
But they'd been silly, trivial things. Fitz being untidy, which Spock was the best or the rule on bringing dead animals into the lab. More often than not, she would find Fitz at the waffle place two streets away from their apartment as they'd both had the same idea for a reconciliation gift.
This had had a different feel about it. They'd been offered an incredible opportunity to work in the field, and she wasn't going to let Fitz pass it up. They'd shouted at each other for an hour or two, much longer than they usually did, because Fitz hated shouting. It had been horrible.
He relented in the end and although it's not how she ideally would have liked him to agree, they were still together, and they were actually going to be doing something.
Getting out of the lab. Meeting new people. Seeing the world.
It was going to be fantastic.
Fitz was still quiet. Usually her day was filled with his mindless chatter, but the last few days had been empty.
She found him in their lab, fiddling with one of the D.W.A.R.F.s.
Slumping into the seat next to him they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
'Just tell me nothing's going to change, Jemma.'
'We're Fitzsimmons, aren't we? Nothing can change that.'
On Fitz's seventeenth birthday, when he climbed into bed, despite being a year older (even if it was technically only a day), nothing seemed to have changed. Not yet.
A/N: So, here is the second (and final) part to this story. I have a lot to say so I'll try and keep it short. In this, Fitz's birthday is the 20th of Feb and Simmons' is on the 9th of April. The science jargon nearly killed me, I tried to keep it vague, and Taylor's series is taken from my brother's engineering homework. If anything is really wrong let me know. I own a pair of Quidditch goggles and they are awesome. I've swung from liking this to not liking this. I really love italics and rhetorical questions but probably use them too much. This is a different style to Part 1 and I'm not sure which one I prefer. I'm really, really not sure about the ending and I'm really worried its confusing. Again, with this is meant to be past tense but sorry for slip ups. And finally:
If you like it or hate it, prefer part 1 or part 2, think they're wildly out of character or think the dialogue is odd, if you think it could improved if...
Let me know in the reviews.