"Sentences"
After scrambling together as many lost agents as he could, Coulson had formed a slightly stronger SHIELD. The scientists, administrators, and field agents had their own divisions, and part of his job was to make sure that any liaising between departments went smoothly. One of the ways was to ensure that those who disliked each other never had to meet, despite Coulson's admonitions that they should stop being so childish.
"The best way to go about it, sir," Jemma said. "Keep arguments to a minimum."
"Great," Coulson muttered. "Now if I could keep internal department bickering to a minimum, we'd be doing even better."
"You'll get there in the end, sir," Leo said, patting him on the shoulder. "In the meantime, you have us."
"We'll never abandon you, sir."
"We're here for life."
"As long as you need us."
"No retiring from science for us, Director Coulson."
"Thanks," he said, holding up his hands. "You must be delighted that you don't have to see Agent Blake."
"O-oh," Jemma stammered. "Because of the whole getting-rid-of-infected-cargo fiasco back before…? Oh, no, we're fine. Aren't we, Fitz?"
"As fine as we could be," Leo said through gritted teeth. "Considering what happened to Simmons—"
"Oh, Fitz—"
"It's probably just as well—"
"Don't be like that—"
"Because even though we're not field agents—"
"We can still kick arse," Jemma said, rubbing her arm where Leo had poked her. "Sir."
"Which is why I'm keeping the peace between divisions," Coulson said dryly. "Back to work, FitzSimmons."
"Yes, sir!" they chorused, and they returned to the lab, chattering the whole way.
Felix Blake had no particular beef with FitzSimmons; he'd never even met the duo. And he was unlikely to, since they were apparently avoiding him. He couldn't really blame them, after ordering Coulson to dump Simmons in the middle of the ocean. Hell, he thought it was pretty ballsy when she jumped in the end, and he admired the way they'd both bounced back from their ordeal at the hands of Grant Ward.
He'd missed most of the action thanks to Deathlok putting him out of commission, and was damn lucky that, being a senior agent, he was one of the first moved to safety when SHIELD fell and HYDRA attacked all known bases. After that, it was a matter of contacting Coulson. The guy was so freaking devoted to Captain America that there was no way he could be HYDRA, so it was a safe bet which paid off. Now Felix had his own office, was a senior administrator (again), and was still fighting the good fight. The only annoying thing was that regulations had been changed. Thanks a bunch, HYDRA.
"They're at it again," one of his underlings muttered.
"Hmm?" He glanced where the woman indicated, and noticed FitzSimmons working at a holotable and talking at top speed. "What are they doing?"
"It's one against two in a conversation with them," she replied, signing the pages he'd given her. "That's why they're called FitzSimmons. Here you go, sir."
"Thanks," he said, attaching the papers to his clipboard. Curious, he wandered nearer to the science division heads as they explained a technical point to a confused minion. It all went over Felix's head, but he noticed what was driving everyone else in the department to the point of distraction. It continued even after they were only talking to each other, about lunch of all things.
"There's nothing wrong with sandwiches," Simmons said, and Fitz shook his head.
"No point unless you're making them," he said.
"With a hint of pesto aioli, I know."
"We went to that Chinese place the other day."
"Yes, and if we go there too often they'll start to recognise us."
"If only there was a good, old-fashioned British pub around here."
"Oh, I know, Fitz."
"Even a simple ploughman's lunch—"
"Talk about nostalgia—"
"Can you imagine—"
"What would happen if we—"
"Started our own pub?" he finished.
"Yes," she said. "I suppose we could use it—"
"As a front for SHIELD—"
"And a safe place for meeting—"
"Good information repository, as well—"
"Plus the best sustenance for the field agents, because honestly, I'm convinced they don't feed themselves properly—"
"Though scientists are one to talk, can't be hypocrites, Simmons—"
"For the love of," Felix muttered to himself. The conversation made him dizzy, and he stalked forward while FitzSimmons discussed their pie in the sky plans for a SHIELD bar. They stopped talking as soon as they noticed, and no doubt recognised, him. "Will you stop finishing each others' sentences? You're driving everyone nuts."
They gaped, and he found out why they were stunned.
"It's become a terrible habit, I'm afraid," Simmons said.
"But it's all your fault, when you think about it," Fitz added.
Felix took several seconds to process this. Then he said, "I need some damn coffee."
For some reason, FitzSimmons decided that it was a time for celebration, and took him to have Devonshire tea. He stuck with coffee, but they forced him to join them in having 'scones with jam and cream'. They looked like biscuits with jelly, but then he wasn't British, and apparently scones 'are completely different, Agent Blake, as you'll see'.
"I'll take your word for it," he said.
"Well, this explains why we prefer Alan Rickman to Tom Felton," Simmons said, and Felix nearly choked on his coffee. He set it down, and settled on cutting a scone in half, following Fitz's example in slathering 'jam' and cream on it.
"I beg your pardon?" he said. Fitz was humming as he munched on his Devonshire tea, leaving Simmons to reply.
"We were both born with our soulmarks," she said. "We compared notes on the kind of person we thought our third might be. I think we're both a bit torn. I mean, it's wonderful that you're a SHIELD agent, because you can take care of yourself, you know what's going on and everything. But on the other hand, you're senior to us."
"In another division, though," Fitz said. Simmons cocked her head.
"True," she said. "Which is really quite convenient—"
"Depending on regulations—"
"We should probably check those again—"
"And Director Coulson knows we were looking for our third—"
"Although we told Skye before we left, so he must know by now—"
"Which means a bigger bed," Fitz said, and he winked at Felix. "We hope."
"We won't rush you into anything," Simmons said.
"Good," Felix said faintly, and he downed a quarter of his remaining coffee. Damn, the cream was sweet. He was going to get toothache if he wasn't careful, and SHIELD didn't have many dentists they could trust.
"So," Simmons said. "I suppose we should talk through some things, get any issues we have off our chests—"
"Not out in the open," he said, interrupting her with both hands up. "This location isn't secure enough to discuss… work."
"Well," Fitz said, eyeing Felix up and down. "We'll have to find something else to talk about, then, won't we? Do you have any kinks we should know in advance, Agent Blake? So we have time to prepare, you understand."
"We're big on preparation," Simmons added. "Working for SHIELD and all."
"We're very good all `round," Fitz said, as if his blatant ogling wasn't suggestive enough.
Felix was going to have his hands full, assuming he even went through with what they were saying, which was unlikely. Half an hour with them and he needed an aspirin. How much worse would it be… that much babble in his head… if they bonded? He couldn't even let their chatter wash over him, because the SHIELD agent in him paid attention to every part of his surroundings, including the conversation, in case the most casual remark held huge implications. Especially with two such guileless children.
Children. Late twenties, but still much younger than him. So eager, fresh, naïve. They seemed too innocent for this work, and one day they would end up like him, if they even lived that long. Depressing thought.
"You don't have any issue with the fact that I'm a few decades older than you?" he asked bluntly. FitzSimmons looked at each other.
"You almost died when Mike was being controlled," Simmons said.
"I almost drowned thanks to Ward," Fitz said.
"I nearly died due to an alien virus."
"Then there was the whole HYDRA-in-SHIELD issue, which put us in more danger."
"Not to mention all the risky missions we've been on—"
"And you've been working for SHIELD most of our lives, which means you must've escaped death a couple of dozens times, at least—"
"And we've nearly taken ourselves out with inadvisable experiments—"
"So age doesn't really have much meaning," Fitz said. "That's what we're saying."
"Honestly, I don't see what the problem is," Simmons continued. "We could die any day. One of us could drop dead from an undisclosed heart problem or a brain aneurysm. There could be a random shooting at the shops. We could be hit by a drunk driver. There could be a train accident, a flash flood, a bolt of lightning."
"The sort of things civilians are at risk of all the time," Fitz added pointedly. "It doesn't make a difference to us. We take it one day at a time—"
"And hope that the rest of our lives together actually goes on for many years."
"I got my soulmarks when I was… never mind how old," Felix said. "It's been a long wait for me, and working for SHIELD wears you down pretty quickly."
"Yet you still work—" Simmons began, and Felix waved at her to stop.
"That's because it's all I know," he said. "No one else would accept me at this age, and the job market isn't exactly swimming with opportunity."
"But we accept you, an' that's the most important thing, isn't it?" Fitz said. "Fate gave you to us… gave us to you for a reason. We definitely don't need a father figure."
"Director Coulson fills that role," Simmons added.
"So please give us a chance, eh?" Fitz traced swirling patterns on the back of Felix's hand, clearly ignoring the irritated frown Felix was trying to give him.
It was weird. Most people would look at this situation and say that he should be the one begging his two young, gorgeous, intelligent soulmates to give him a chance, not the other way around. Some would say that being with them would be an abuse of authority, though Coulson would probably be fairly lax about that, if nothing else because they needed as many agents as they could get. And when it came to soulmates, he could be a bit of a soft touch; came from being a Blank, would be Felix's guess. But then what did he know? He wasn't a doctor. Unlike his two soulmates.
FitzSimmons were giving him puppy dog eyes. That was so unfair.
"Don't do that," he said.
"Do what?" Simmons asked innocently. "We weren't doing anything."
"Those eyes. You're try to make me cave. Stop it. And don't ever go undercover. Your lying skills leave a lot to be desired."
"With all those prostitutes, as well," Fitz muttered. Felix glanced at him.
"There's a story there," he guessed, and Fitz sniggered while Simmons tossed her hair back over her shoulder and tried to look prim.
"Well, we discovered that Skye could never pass as Scottish," she said.
"We're getting off-track," Felix said.
"We didn't like the track we were on," she replied, the skin between her eyebrows wrinkling. "I suppose… if we showed you our soulmarks." She exchanged glances with Fitz, whose grin was unholy. Felix got the feeling he'd never been in charge of the conversation, despite being a senior agent.
"Considering their placements," Fitz said. "A better idea of the bonding position—"
"Could be enticing enough," she said. "Especially as we'd have to strip to show him."
Yep. Felix had lost any control he might've had.
Ship requested by selmak, who adores Felix Blake. I've only written him twice, and I haven't written much FitzSimmons, so I wasn't sure how I'd manage it. Only a short chapter, I'm afraid. I think I'm better with twosomes than with threesomes.
Och well. I haven't posted much, I know; I'm a terrible person. I thought I'd get a lot more done during the holidays, but I've been tired, possibly coming down with a cold, and Mum and I have taken advantage of the break to go to the movies a couple of times. Most unproductive, in other words.
Uh… yeah. Please review!