Work Text:
Fitz sighed and adjusted the pile of schematics in his arms. Twisting to avoid the boring-suited businesspeople that were crowding the platform waiting for their morning Tube into the center of the city, Fitz clutched his designs closer to his chest.
Like most London days, it was very grey. The sky was grey, the platform was grey, both Fitz’s mood and cardigan were grey. His life was grey.
Until he caught a blur of red at ground level from the corner of his eye, right before a slight figure bumped into his side, sending him off balance. He stumbled and righted himself, only to feel oddly unsteady again as his gaze met that of the prettiest woman he had ever seen. She was wearing red Converse’s, which is what had caught his eye. But, she also had red piping around the collar of her grey jacket. The splash of colour really brought out the warmth in her eyes. He blinked, trying to get his mind working again, but was largely unsuccessful.
She smiled hesitantly. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“That’s fine. No problem, really. Don’t worry about it.” Fitz shut his mouth before he could find another synonym for ‘fine’.
With his distracted contemplation of her eyes, he had failed to notice that she had dropped her own pile of papers across the platform, and they were currently being trampled by the shuffling feet of commuters. He bent to collect them at the same time she did, and the two bumped heads. He straightened awkwardly.
“Sorry.” He bent down in a more gainly manner and reached for her papers.
“It’s OK,” she said with a smile. He shuffled the papers he had collected into a neater pile and handed them to her.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I appreciate you braving the feet of impatient businesspeople to rescue these formulas. My boss would have killed me if I’d lost them.”
“Any time,” Fitz murmured. He took a breath, just about to add something, anything, when he caught sight of a patch of colour lying on the pallid platform, miraculously untouched by the busy feet surrounding it. He bent to pick it up, seeing that it was a well-loved red notebook.
He straightened, his hand already moving to offer her the notebook, figuring she must have dropped it with the rest of the papers she was carrying.
But she wasn’t there.
In fact, the entire platform was empty. The Tube had arrived while he’d been distracted, and it was now full to bursting. He caught a flash of red amongst the black and grey and kept his eyes on it, hoping for…he didn’t know what. A last glimpse of her, perhaps.
She turned at the last minute, and smiled as she caught him watching her. Fitz managed to smile back just as the doors slid shut, blocking his view.
The Tube took off with a burst of wind, fluttering the schematics in his hand like a wave goodbye. He watched as it rattled into the distance and around the corner.
It was only then that Fitz realised he was meant to be on that train.
`
Fitz eventually made it into work and accepted the mild abuse he received from his boss for being late. Nothing could phase him, as he was still far too busy thinking about the woman from that morning. He clutched her notebook tightly to his chest, afraid that if he let it go it would disappear and he would realise that she was only a dream.
He had spent the entire ride into the city contemplating whether or not to open it. He ran his fingers over the gold embossing on the front, thinking that it would be the only way to find out more about her. Only so he could return the notebook, of course.
He waited until his coworkers were busy with whatever mindless task they had been assigned that day before he furtively brought the book out from between the sheets of paper where he had been hiding it.
Slowly, he opened the cover and caught sight of a name, neatly penned at the top of the page.
Jemma Simmons.
Well, he had a name, but it wasn’t an uncommon one. Fitz decided he needed more context and opened the book up further. What he saw made him blink in surprise.
Each page was filled with meticulously detailed formulas, written in the same neat hand that had scribed her name at the front. They were extremely complex and impressive, and Fitz’s mind couldn’t help skipping around, testing possible applications for the formulas.
He came to a page labelled ‘Dendrotoxins’ and was startled to realise that her ideas, carefully noted in the margins of the page, matched perfectly with a non-lethal gun he had been designing in his free time. He pulled out his own notebook (grey, of course) and compared the two ideas side by side. To Fitz’s complete lack of surprise, they would work incredibly well together.
He had to meet this woman. Again. Properly. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was bright. And it was clear to him that they would work extraordinarily well together. If he didn’t immediately mess it up, which unfortunately was a strong possibility.
After a few minutes of surreptitious googling, Fitz found that Jemma Simmons was indeed quite a noted scientist. She had had numerous articles published, and had even been profiled for a leading scientific magazine about being a rising scientist, one of the youngest ever to graduate in her particular field.
Unfortunately, none of those things told Fitz how he would find her.
He gazed out of the window, idly staring at the people go by ten floors beneath him as he pondered his conundrum. He knew it was daft that he was getting so wrapped up thinking about a woman he had seen for a few seconds. No doubt he would have forgotten about her already if it had just been her eyes that had concerned him. But those formulas? That brain? Truly incredibly.
Fitz froze and his breath caught in his throat as he saw a familiar flash of red, even from this distance. He knew instantly that it was her.
His chest tight with the knowledge that she was so close and yet unreachable, Fitz almost banged on the window to get her attention. Fortunately, he realised just in time that it would be both unsuccessful and would call unnecessary attention to himself in the office.
Instead, he snatched up the first bit of paper he saw and deftly folded it into a perfect paper plane - the one true thing he had learned in university classes. He eased the window open, aimed, and lobbed the paper aircraft down in her direction.
It floated gently in the breeze, drifting unerringly in her direction. Fitz’s heart leapt, jump started at the thought that he might just have a chance to see her again.
Until the plane brushed harmlessly off the shoulder of a fellow pedestrian and skittered harmlessly away. His heart sank with it.
He was running out of time. She’d just drawn level with his building, and soon enough she would go by and disappear. He really couldn’t waste the chance.
A thought popped into his mind, and Fitz’s eyes were drawn to the bottom drawer of his desk. Maybe…
He reached down, drawing the prototype out of the dark hole he’d consigned it in. He glanced back to make sure Jemma was still in sight, then, not allowing himself to over think it, he wedge her notebook on top of the drone and placed it on the windowsill. With one deep breath to steady himself Fitz pressed the necessary buttons on the controller to move the drone and watched it rise slightly, if unsteadily. He only waited long enough to see it on its way before turning, controller in hand, to rush out of the room. Only to find all his coworkers and his dastardly boss staring at him.
Fitz offered an awkward smile.
“I should go retrieve that.”
He edged towards the door, but no one said anything. His boss’s glare was eloquent enough, but Fitz didn’t let it stop him. He glanced at the screen on the controller to make sure the drone was still flying in the right direction and nudged it slightly to the left.
He raced out of the office and towards the staircase. He didn’t even bother with the lift, just barrelled down the staircase. He was panting by the time he got to ground level, but didn’t stop, just kept running towards her.
He dodged through the crowds of people on their lunchbreak, unceremoniously nudging people out of the way. He looked up to see the drone, still steadily moving forwards.
And then he caught a glimpse of her, still a few yards ahead of him. His breath stuttered as his stomach flipped and he had to suck in a big breath to control his breathing.
With one last surge, he pushed through the crowd just as she turned the corner into a quieter street and stumbled out beside her. The drone chose that moment to descend drunkenly from the sky and land awkwardly in front of her, listing to the side.
She stopped, staring at the machine, as Fitz paused slightly behind her. She bent down, reaching out hesitantly to retrieve her notebook from the drone’s clutches.
“Hi, I’m Fitz,” he murmured softly. Jemma jumped and spun around. Then a smile bloomed across her face as she recognised him.
“Hi.”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d miss you.” he said, gesturing to the drone. “I wanted to make sure that if nothing else, you got your notebook back.”
Her eye grew soft. “How did you find me?”
“Well, I was pondering exactly how to go about it when you happened to walk right by my window at work. What are the odds in a city as big as London? It almost seemed like fate.”
“I don’t usually believe in fate, but it is an extraordinary coincidence.”
She looked like she was about to add something, but fell silent. Fitz tried to think of something to say to continue the conversation, but failed, as usual.
“Thank you for getting my notebook back to me. These formulas are all my work.”
“I had a look.” His face grew warm. “I mean, I peeked. To try to find out more about you. So I could return it. Obviously.”
“Oh, are you a biochemist like me?” Her face brightened, seemingly unconcerned that he’d invaded her privacy. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You aren’t going to steal any of my work, are you?” Ah, there it was.
“No, I’m an engineer. But I was very impressed with your designs. I was more wondering if you might consider a collaboration. Maybe over some tea?” Fitz was surprised to find how much her answer meant to him. His heart was thundering anxiously in his chest as he awaited her answer.
“Is that drone of your own design?” she asked, gesturing to the sad looking little machine.
“Yeah, but I haven’t quite figured out a use for it yet.”
She eyed it consideringly for a moment. “I might have some ideas,” she told him with a smile.
Fitz’s heart skipped a beat. “Really? I mean, great. Do you have some time now, because I was thinking about your dendrotoxins and…” Fitz stopped himself.
“I was just on my way to lunch,” Jemma replied.
“Oh, well, in that case I won’t-”
“I’d love if you could join me,” she finished.
A grin split Fitz’s face. “Yeah, great.” He scooped up his little drone and tucked it under one arm, before holding his free one out to Jemma. She took it easily.
“I know a little place around the corner,” Jemma told him.
“I’m happy with any kind of food,” he replied, his gaze not leaving her face.
She smiled at him, eyes sparkling, and it was like seeing a rainbow of colour bleed into Fitz’s world.