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“What the bloody hell?” he boomed out as a series of clattering noises echoed through the room.
“Stop yelling at me!” the other replied. “My hands shook”, he explained in a croaky voice.
“We talked about it already, Fitz. If you’re not up to work one day, you should just tell me.”
“You needed the help, Hunter.”
Lance nodded. He had called Fitz in a hurry earlier in the day, stating that the coffee machine wouldn’t work correctly anymore and that he could really use his expert eye. Fitz had come with his signature messenger bag, full of tools, and had crouched down to examine the expresso machine. Something was wrong, indeed, so he had requested a stool and was now working on the damn thing, trying to figure out what went south with it.
“Listen, I know you’re trying to get back on your feet after the..”
“The accident?” Fitz offered.
“Yeah, that”, Hunter grimaced. “And I’d be happy to give you a job here, but you can’t run to me every time I call, especially if you’re having a bad day.”
Fitz shrugged, his eyes glues to all the different wires he had in front of him. He knew the blue one was supposed to power the steamer to make milk foam but the red one was supposed to power the main part of the machine, to make the coffee stir.
“The least you could do is answer me, you know”, Hunter grumbled.
“It’s easier to ignore you”, Fitz replied.
It was. It was easier to ignore Hunter when he’d start talking about the accident. That damn thing happened six months ago and Fitz was still trying to get his life back together. He had stayed a solid month at the hospital but they couldn’t do much more at one point. He had to be patient and train his brain back to its previous state, which was pretty much a nightmare. Hunter had sat down in front of him with a fucking picture book for kids, asking him to name different animals, like he was two years old. It was incredibly frustrating to be back to a state where he’d search for his words, where he’d stumble on a lot of sentences and where he’d pathetically bump his head into every doorframe he could pass through. The worst of it all, though, was his shaking hands. Fitz used to be a genie in his field: engineering. He’d build things from scraps and invent new designs every day. You’d rarely see him without a small notebook stuck on his back pocket that he’d fill with new ideas and concepts. Now, he couldn’t even write in the damn notebook anymore.
Fitz used to be great. He used to work at a big company, inventing new things every day, building new tools every day. Now, he was stuck at home, throwing a ball against a wall and trying to catch it back (and failing, miserably). He couldn’t even drink tea in his normal mugs anymore, because his hands would shake so much that he’d spill hot water everywhere. Hunter had gifted him taller mugs that he’d fill up to the three quarters only and that prevented him from burning himself but the mere idea that he had to adapt to his new condition was annoying and depressing to be honest.
So Fitz ignored it. He pushed back every feeling, numbing himself until the world was bland and savourless and grey, grey, grey, all fucking grey.
Hunter had been kinder ever since he had got the call about his best friend being in the hospital. They had been roommates back in college and had separated ways when they’d graduated, but they remained in contact and would meet each other once a week in a pub for some friendly times. They’d often invite their other friends from college: Mack, the gently giant, Lincoln who was far too handsome to hang out with them and Davis who studied to become a personal trainer. Sometimes, they’d tolerate Deke because family was family and Fitz couldn’t push his own cousin away, as dumb as he sometimes was. They’d find themselves in the pub, Davis was sometimes joined by his friend Piper, whenever she’d hang out to the same pub with her friends. Fitz had met Daisy through Piper and Daisy was pretty nice, but despite how much Davis was trying to push it to him, there would never be anything going on between him and her. He was pretty sure she was into Lincoln, anyway. Everybody was into Lincoln, to be frank. Fitz thought he was a little bit into Lincoln, himself. Not that he’d act on it, because he was pretty sure he was straight, but there wasn’t much he could do when Lincoln’s big blue eyes and boyish grin were involved. He was convinced that Mack was a bit infatuated with Lincoln as well. Because if the entire world could agree on something, it was that everyone liked Lincoln.
Fitz had known Hunter for six years now. Three of them had been spent living together, the rest was history. So when he had been admitted to the hospital and the nurses there went through his phone to call anyone, they had found Hunter’s number pretty easily. Hunter was there when Fitz opened his eyes for the first time after the accident. He had been there when Fitz stumbled onto his words, unsure of what were the right ones to use and slurring over the majority of the syllables. He had been patient when Fitz had tried to get up and fell down and he had been there for the rest of it, through the long month spent in between those white walls. When Fitz had been released, he had helped him get back to his place but it had been pretty obvious that Fitz was depending of others for a lot of simple tasks and when he had found the Scotsman spread out on the wooden floor of his flat, sobbing like a child over a broken glass, he had decided that maybe it’d be for the best if the two of them lived together for a little while.
Fitz had lost a lot over the accident. He had lost his job, he had lost his skills, he had lost independence, he had lost words and he, most importantly, had lost friends. There was nothing they could have done, to be honest. That truck wasn’t supposed to lose control, it wasn’t supposed to slip on the asphalt and knock their car over, it wasn't supposed to send their car tumbling down the bridge and into the Thames. By the time it had hit the water, Fitz’ friends were already gone. He had tried so hard to get them out of the car, he had fought against his security belt, he had tried to break the windows but when you’re stuck in a drowning car, there wasn’t much you could do. Luckily for him, a team of firemen was on the bridge when their car fell down and they had jumped into the water pretty quickly, breaking the windows and cutting the belts with what they could find. The spot where the car had ended up falling wasn’t that deep but Fitz had been out for a long time, unable to breathe and his brain had been deprived of oxygen for quite a long time. They had called the whole thing “cerebral apoxia” but the time it would take for him to say it was too long and he’d end up even more frustrated with the whole thing.
So Fitz had been trying his best to get back where he belonged. To his job, that he used to love but couldn’t execute correctly anymore, to his steady hands, to his calm of mind and to his words. Hunter was nice enough to pay him for every favour he could make him, but that wasn’t a job and he knew it. Hunter had been pretty successful after college. He had put his commercial degree to use and had bought a coffeeshop, indebting himself for decades but that was a point he preferred not to dwell on. Fitz had helped painting the walls and building the counter when Hunter had bought the place, he also had built a great Hi-Fi system and had been pretty helpful whenever he could have. Hunter was his best friend, there wasn’t a lot he would deny him. When Hunter had opened the coffeeshop, he was sure it’d be a success. However, the first few months had been calmer than expected and if he wanted to meet the profits he needed to pay back his loan, he had to make way more coffees. So Lance had asked his friends some more help and together, they had spent Sundays scouring the city to put flyers everywhere. Soon enough, the Framework Coffee was the spot to be at if you wanted to have coffee in a nice atmosphere. Sure, he wasn’t a real concurrent to Starbucks and Costa, but his coffeeshop didn’t need to be. He only wanted to offer a nice comfy and warm spot so people could feel at ease and make coffees. And if he could meet a girl through the shop, that would be perfect.
“You know that I could need a barista, right?” Hunter offered as the coffee machine emitted a new screech.
“That would be a fucking disaster and you know that”, Fitz sassed back.
“You could take care of the orders and I’d prepare them”, Hunter retorted.
“Yeah, great, like I’m socially able to take orders anymore.”
“You can’t just sit and mope around, Fitz.”
“No, but I can sit and repair your damn coffee machine, though.”
“Touché.”
Hunter sighed again, as a fresh new wave of students and young workers came through the door of the shop. He patiently explained that they would have to wait a little longer than planned, because the main coffee machine was being fixed and at that, Fitz lift his head timidly. He still had a screwdriver in his hand so he didn’t dare actually making eye contact and instead tried to focus on the different parts of the machine he had taken apart. Fitz wasn’t great in social interactions. He never had been, to be quite honest. The fact that he had friends from college was a miracle, now that he thought of it. Hunter had been easy, because they had been assigned to the same room, but the rest? They all met thanks to Hunter, actually and if he hadn’t been there, then Fitz probably would have spent his days hidden in his dorm. But Hunter was down for any party in any pub and after begging so many times, Fitz had agreed to follow him. There hadn’t been once he had regretted that choice (except maybe for that time Davis threw up on his tennis shoes, because really, he had regretted going out that night).
“Hi, what can I get you?”
“I’d like a cup of English tea, please, and could you add a muffin as well?”
“Sure, dear”, Hunter smiled. “Fitz? Can you please leave that.. whatever it is”, Hunter frowned, “and get me a muffin from the stand?”
Fitz sighed and put back the scraps he had in his hands. He grabbed the pastry tongs on the counter and slowly took a muffin from behind the counter. When he was sure his right hand wouldn’t falter, he took the brown paper bag that Hunter had slid to him and put the pastry inside, delicately.
“Here you go”, Fitz breathed out.
“Thanks”, the brunette behind the counter smiled.
“What name should I put on your cup?”
“I’m Jemma”, she informed;
“Jemma, you’re good to go! Please wait a bit and I’ll call you when your order is ready!”
Hunter cashed some other clients and made sure the line was in order. When every order had been made, he tried to deliver as fast as possible. Seeing him in such despair, Fitz dropped what he was trying to fix and grabbed several paper cups, filling them with coffee before Hunter would complete them with what was needed: milk, sugar, cream or anything else. Fitz also made sure that the kettle was on and dropped a teabag into the young woman’s cup. He quickly turned around and searched for her before finding her near the counter. At least he wouldn’t have to yell for her.
“Hi, sorry to bother you uhm.. Jemma? Uhm.. Would you like some uhm.. You know..?”
This was not the time to stumble on his words. Was what is called again? That white powder that made everything sweet? Fuck, this was supposed to be an easy word. He was supposed to know that one. Why couldn’t he remember it now?
Not knowing what else to do, he just lifted up the sugar container and showed her what he meant. Jemma smiled gently and nodded, holding up two fingers so he knew she’d like two packets. He nodded back, not knowing what to say and turned back to the kettle that was starting to whistle. Inside Jemma’s cup, he poured two packets of sugar and then the boiling water. His hands weren’t stable anymore, not after he made eye contact with Jemma. She was rather pretty and Fitz had never been cool when he was attracted to a girl. He’d usually stutter, actually. Guess what could happen now that he stuttered on a constant basis.. But she had nice brown eyes and if her hair hadn’t been hiding most of her face, Fitz could have seen that she had a hint of freckles on her cheeks and nose. Shaking his foggy head to a clear state again, he made sure the lid was secure before he gave her the paper cup and because he had quite burnt his hand on it, slid a cardboard holder so she wouldn’t be burning herself as well.
“Thanks”, she smiled again, timidly.
“Ahem.. You’re welcome”, he shrugged, his hands trembling again so he hid them in the pockets of his hoodie.
Jemma left quite fast after that and Fitz handed paper cups for a few minutes before he retreated back to the coffee machine. What was the blue wire doing, again?
══════════════════
The coffee machine was working again. Hunter was grateful for Fitz’ abilities but the fact that he had to be helped during the rush had convinced him that he could need an extra set of hands. So he had put a flyer on the door, asking if anyone was up to be employed and a blonde girl had showed up a few days later, asking for a job interview. Hunter had given her the job pretty quickly and if Fitz was brutally honest, he’d say that it was because Hunter’s heart had stopped beating when she had passed the door.
Bobbi was a sight for sore eyes, there was no denying of it. She was all tall and muscular and she made sure to always wear skin tight clothes. She said it was because it was easier to move than with baggier clothes but Fitz suspected that she just liked the attention it brought her. Not that Bobbi was shallow because she was actually pretty good at her job and she was interesting in so many ways, but he had caught her smiling whenever Hunter would ogle her butt and that’s why he was sure the two of them would end up together.
Now that there were two people at the coffee shop, it was easier for Fitz to pass by and stay for a couple of hours. It’s not like he had other places to be, though, it was either the Framework or the flat. Mack had tried to make plans with him but Fitz didn’t feel like going back to society just yet, so they took turns to visit him at Hunter’s place. Lincoln had come a few days ago, they had played a bit of video games and when Fitz had had trouble focusing on the screen, they drank too many beers and ended up very drunk at five in the afternoon. Davis had brought him cake the day after, because there was nothing like cake when you were hungover. Ever since those couple of days, Fitz had taken shelter at the Framework. He had worked a bit on an algorithm to create a new software for Hunter’s cash register and had survived on the coffee and brownies that Bobbi had slid him in the small rest room of the shop.
“Fitz! Fitz can you come help me please?”
The Scottish rubbed his eyes and moved his head back from the screen. He hadn’t noticed how close he had ended up to be during the last hour or so. He massaged his neck a little, swore under his breath when his neck cracked loudly and stood up to join Bobbi at the counter.
“Lance left half an hour ago and I can’t make this damn thing work, can you help me please?”
“Yeah, sure.”
The coffee machine was working again but Bobbi still couldn’t figure out how to make hot water. Sure, it wasn’t the easiest thing to do because you had to unscrew the portafilter part, make sure there was no coffee left in it, screw it back and wake a first cup of brownish water before you were sure to have clean hot water. Bobbi understood the process, of course, she just couldn’t, for the life of hers, unscrew and screw back on the portafilter. So Fitz patiently helped her and when he had made a nice cup of hot water, he turned back to slid it behind the counter where clients could choose their pastries. When he lifted his eyes back up, he saw her again.
This time, she was wearing a light coat and if he trusted the small raindrops on the vinyl, he’d say she had been walking a little bit under the rain to come to the Framework. She had braided her hair in a sloppy braid and her skin was paler than the last time he saw her. Her eyes had turned greener, as well, but the freckles on her cheeks were darker. Now that her hair was a bit damp, he could see it was between a light brown and a dark red but still, he found her lovely, even though her lips were chapped and her knuckles were dark pink against her very pale fingers. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, she was seemingly tired, which must be why she had come to order a tea. He could see a white shirt underneath her raincoat and was rather surprised that the top button was closed. That must be really uncomfortable. But still, she was pretty, in this very shy way that he found very touching.
What was her name again?
It ended with an A, he was sure of it. He had it on the top of his tongue and was struggling to remember it when Bobbi made him jump a little when she called the customer.
“Jemma! Your tea is ready!”
The brunette thanked her with a smile and slid the change in the small tipping box. Fitz was still frozen in place when Bobbi put a hand on his shoulder as the door closed back on Jemma.
“Hey, Fitz, you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah..”
Yeah, he was fine. His heart, on the other hand..
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Fitz had completed Hunter’s new software for his cash register in barely a couple of days. It would have taken him an afternoon only, before the accident, but he was pretty happy with how it turned out to be. It made Hunter’s life easier and therefore, Bobbi was just as grateful. Ever since he uploaded the software, he had spent his days at the Framework, designing new tools that would make the Framework even better. He had upgraded the Hi-Fi and now a tablet was attached to the counter, letting people put new songs on a list to be streamed to the speakers hidden in the coffee shop. Bobbi was always hijacking the thing, streaming indie music that would make her sway her hips and bob her head while she was making coffees. Hunter had thanked Fitz profusely for the view. He was onto a new display that would keep the pastries warm when Hunter had thrown him an apron with a nametag stuck on it.
“Fitz, it’s time your get your head outta your bloody ass and work”, he had declared.
Maybe that was the push Fitz needed. Hunter had left the nametag bare, for him to complete as he desired. With a marker pen, he did his best to write “Fitz” properly on it and had pinned it back to his apron. The three of them had a nice dynamic: Hunter would take the orders in, sliding the paper cups on the counter so that the two others could take care of them. Bobbi was in charge of the lattes and other weird drinks that Fitz found strange. She would also bake whenever the shop was quieter, which made Fitz cover her spot as well, if needed. He was in charge of black coffees, teas and pastries, because that was easy enough to make. Never had once Bobbi asked anything about his stuttering or the way his hands would shake violently sometimes. Whenever he’d spill something, she’d take a rag and quickly fix the incident and when Fitz dropped an endless number of cups on his first days, she never made him feel bad for it. She was patient with him, because she had guessed he was a bit disabled and she was always there to clean his mess. For that, Fitz was grateful.
Working at the Framework was nice. Lincoln worked a few streets away so he often came during his lunch break for a coffee and to chat a bit with his friends. Once, he even had brought Daisy there, on a date, Fitz guessed. Lincoln was holding her hand and she was completely drowning in his blue eyes. You and me both, Daisy, he had thought. But working at the Framework was also a nightmare, sometimes, especially with impatient customers, who would grumble that he had taken his sweet time. God help the poor guy if he had messed their order.. Bobbi was always sassing those customers away. Hunter had tried to tell her to be nice, that they couldn’t afford to lose clients but eventually, he knew that it was a lost cause. Especially when he was biting his own tongue to not make snarky remarks as well. What really bugged Fitz a bit these days was the fact that Jemma had reappeared and was now making daily visits.
On the first day, she ordered black tea. She was wearing a green jumper that made her eyes look green as well. Her hair was thrown back into a messy bun but she looked nice and she had put the change of her tea in the tipping jar.
The second day, she ordered green tea. Her brown coat was peppered with raindrops and her hair was frizzing a little. She looked like a hot mess but she thanked him when he slid her paper cup on the top of the counter. She had paid the right amount, so no tip for that day.
The third day, she smiled at him. She asked for a fruity infusion, said she was tired and couldn’t handle theine that night. She looked exhausted, her face a greyish tone and dark circles underneath her eyes. Her jumper looked a bit weird but Fitz soon realised that it was because she had put it inside out. She slid a five pounds bill on the counter and said that he could do whatever he wanted with the change. She said bye while he was cashing her out and left the receipt in his hand as she was already out.
The fourth day, she was wearing skinny jeans and heels. She looked much better than the day before and Fitz had let out a “Seems like you slept better last night” that made them both blush. He didn’t know what went through his mind and why he said that, but here he was, looking like a red idiot with a paper cup full of mint tea. He had watched her leave, his eyes stuck on her legs as she pushed the door. Hunter had to snap his fingers in front of his face for him to wake up from his weird trance.
The fifth day, Jemma wished him a good night when she left with her Darjeeling tea. It wasn’t much but Fitz remembered the fact that she was wearing a black headband and a tinted lip balm. When he went to bed that day and closed his eyes, the world didn’t turn black. It turned pink.
The sixth day, Bobbi said “Hi Jemma!” before Fitz realised that she was there. She looked dishevelled and her eyes were rimmed with pink. It was hot outside so she had traded her jacket for a white blouse but he noticed the sleeves were dirty with black smudges when he took her money to slid it in the cash drawer. She looked sad so he prepared her oolong tea and took a cookie from the heating display he had built a few days ago, sliding it into a paper sleeve and putting it next to her cup on the counter.
“I didn’t order this”, she timidly remarked.
“It’s on me. You look like you need a cookie”, he shrugged.
“Thanks uhm.. Fitz”, she blushed. “Have a nice day.”
Fitz was beet red when Bobbi smiled at him and Hunter whistled lowly.
The seventh day, she was wearing a dress. A nice navy blue dress, that hugged her hips and whose neck was pretty low. She was perched on high heels and visibly was coming back from a meeting with someone. Fitz was alone in the shop that day, because Bobbi had taken a day off and Hunter had left to buy some errands. It had been a quiet day, with Fitz spending it mostly reading instead of making drinks, but it had been nice. When she entered, he had felt his heart do a little jump and his breath had caught in his throat. She was wearing makeup and looked beautiful, more beautiful than ever, especially with her dark lipstick and the mascara she had put on her eyelashes.
“Good afternoon”, he had stuttered.
“Hello. Could I have a cup of tea, please?”
“What kind would you like?”
“I don’t know, to be honest”, she blushed. “Choose for me, please.”
Fitz had gulped pretty hard. He wasn’t even sure what to wear on the mornings, so choosing tea for Jemma was a bit out of his comfort zone.
“You seem to come more frequently than before”, he shyly remarked.
“My kettle broke”, she shrugged, embarrassed. “I’m too busy to get a new one right now, it’s easier to just get some tea from here.”
Fitz nodded, because he didn’t know what to say. She looked absolutely gorgeous and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go through their interaction without making a fool of himself. Silently, he prayed whatever God would hear him. Please don’t make me stutter, please don’t make stutter, please don’t make me stutter.
But when he handed Jemma his cup, his hands betrayed him and he splashed the hot tea everywhere on the counter. The silence inside the Framework was enough to crush his heart. Jemma hadn’t been hit, thankfully, but now the tea was dripping from each side of the glass counter and she was looking at the floor like it rained white tea.
“I’m so sorry”, he apologised, crushed.
“It’s okay”, she sighed. “Today’s been a long day, anyway.”
“I’m really, really sorry then.”
“Because you weren’t before?”
“No, that’s not what I meant, I’m-“
“Breathe, Fitz. It’s okay.”
But she had called him Fitz and now, said Fitz couldn’t breathe anymore. Without a word, she bent down and retrieved the cup that had rolled on the floor. She took a few paper towels from the dispenser and mopped the tea up. She gave him the wet towels and sat down at a table, letting him know that she wasn’t in a hurry and he could just redo her cup.
Fitz cursed himself. The bloody cosmos obviously was messing with him. There was no other way. He redid the cup because he had to but the mere idea of having to face Jemma after ridiculing himself that much was really throwing him into panic mode. If Hunter was here, he could have handled this. Fitz wanted to quit, he couldn’t do this anymore. This had been nice but he couldn’t possibly come back to the Framework when Jemma now thought he was an imbecile. She had even chosen a chair with her back to him! She must have thought he was a tool, now.
Fitz slid the cup to the table, accompanied by a blueberry muffin. But when his eyes finally made contact with Jemma’s face, she was silently crying over her phone.
“Are you okay?”, he timidly asked.
“Don’t worry”, she said, wiping her cheeks rather harshly.
“Give me a second”, Fitz murmured.
The shop was empty anyway. Hunter wouldn’t yell at him for a teabag so Fitz grabbed one of his taller mugs that was hidden beneath the counter and made himself a cup of tea. He grabbed a cookie and sat back in front of Jemma, who was now silently sobbing into her tea.
“What happened?”
“I totally screwed my presentation today and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do what I wanted next year”, she explained.
“I’m sorry”, Fitz replied.
“I had this dream job but I needed to make sure that I had my biochem PhD but I stumbled onto my words and now it’s completely out of my hands”, she cried. “I had worked so hard for this..”
“I didn’t think you were still uh..”
Not now. Not now, not your words after your hands, come on Fitz, you could do it.
“Studying?” she offered.
“Yeah”, he blushed.
“It’s my second PhD, actually”, she admitted. “Well, it was supposed to be my second PhD.”
“I know the uhm.. The..”, he started.
“The feeling?”
“Yeah, that one”, he blushed again.
“It’s okay”, she sadly smiled.
“I keep stumbling onto my..”
“Words?”
“I keep stumbling onto my words too”, he offered.
“What happened?”
“Car accident. The car was thrown into the..”, he snapped his fingers, trying to recall the right name.
“The roadside?”
“No..”
“The railing?”
“No.. It’s the water in London!”
“The Thames?!”
“Yes!”
“Your car went to the Thames?” she gasped.
“Yeah.. Couldn’t breathe for a long time, my brain’s all messy now.”
“Cerebral apoxia, then”, Jemma noted.
Fitz choked on his tea. He hadn’t expected someone to know the name of what happened to him. But Jemma was here, sitting in front of him, blurting the name like it wasn’t the utter worst disease that could be found.
“That makes sense, actually. That’s what happened with the cup?”
“I guess”, he shrugged, the tip of his ears now completely red.
“That’s okay”, she smiled, putting her hand on his. “It’s not your fault.”
“It just makes me look like a complete tool!”
“It’ll come back. You just have to be patient.”
“I used to build electronics stuff and now I can’t even handle a screw.. Ahem..”
“A screwdriver”, she completed, now smiling wholeheartedly.
“Yes! And my words are all messed up and I keep searching for the right ones!”
“At least you have an excuse”, she smiled. “I make a fool of myself and I’ve none!” she joked.
Fitz could have been hurt by her comment. But he surprised himself laughing, wondering how a woman like her could ever look like a fool. Surely, she couldn’t. Not to him, anyway.
“Thanks for the muffin, Fitz.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s a weird first name, if you allow me to say.”
“That’s because it’s not. I’m actually Leo. Well, Leopold, but I’m not enjoying the longer version.”
“Leo it is, then”, she smiled, lifting her hand to him. “Nice to meet you Leo Fitz. I’m Jemma Simmons.”
“Nice to meet you too, Jemma Simmons”, he grinned, shaking her hand.
“If I come back tomorrow, will I get another free muffin?”
“I don’t know”, he laughed, getting back up to clean his mug and throw her paper cup. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great. See you tomorrow, then, Leo.”
Before she left, she grabbed the receipt he had given her earlier and a pen in her purse. She scribbled a few lines and folded the receipt in four before sliding it into the tip jar. She waved at him and escaped the Framework, back to the London streets and the noisy traffic. Fitz just realised that the coffee shop had never been this calm and it had been the first time ever he hadn’t been annoyed by the constant honking and yelling outside.
Jemma had made the noise disappear.
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The receipt that Fitz had fished from the tip jar had been sporting Jemma’s number and ever since, he had been texting with her. She came back to the Framework a few days later, not sure what to say but happy to see him again. When she came to the counter to retrieve her cup, she couldn’t help the excited “Hi Fitz” that escaped her lips and made him smile as well.
“Hi Jemma”, he replied. “Here’s your order.”
“No free pastry, this time?” she frowned comically.
“The boss is here”, he shrugged. “Come back another day and we’ll see what we can do.”
“Will do!”
“Hey, Jemma!” he called her back before she’d leave. “When are your results?”
“In two days, I believe.”
“Great. I’ll make sure to have cookies, then”, he promised.
“Bye Fitz”, she grinned.
“Bye Jemma.”
Hunter had stopped dead in his tracks to follow the exchange. Completely astonished, he had scoffed loudly when Jemma had left.
“Buddy, you got some explaining to do.”
“Don’t think for one second I didn’t see what was going on between you and Bobbi. You first”, he exclaimed, crossing his arms on his chest.
“You should just yell it at her”, he snarled back lowly. “Bloody hell, Fitz!”
“Bloody hell, yourself!”
“I hate you, you know that?”
“Great. I don’t like you either.”
“Jeez.. My boy’s all grown up”, Hunter ended up crying, pretending to wipe his tears underneath his eyes.
“Oh for fuck’s sake Lance, quit your drama nonsense”, Bobbi yelled from the back of the shop.
“I hate you too, Bobbi!” he singsung.
“Well, so do I and you don’t see me yelling it around, do you?”
Fitz shook his head, bemused.
He wanted to quit a few days ago but now? Now he wouldn’t trade his spot for the world.
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Fitz had prepared the cookies. He had made them himself, actually. So when Jemma pushed the door open, he took the tray, got around the counter and proudly presented her his work.
She was sporting the biggest grin he’d ever seen and when she squealed, he knew that she had got her damn PhD. Pushing the tray on top of a table for her to celebrate her news, he didn’t think she’d actually hang herself at his neck, hugging him tighter than he had ever been hugged (Mack didn’t count, he was drunk and he only lifted him from the ground).
Hunter had coughed a little before Fitz had been able to snap back to reality. He timidly wrapped his arms around her too and enjoyed for the first time the smell of her perfume. She smelled like rubbing alcohol, if he had to be honest, but he didn’t mind. He knew she was working in the biochem department so it wasn’t surprising, really.
“I’m happy for you, Jemma”, he smiled.
“I didn’t think I’d get it”, she confessed.
“Well, that deserves a lot of cookies”, he joked.
“I hope they’re free!”
“If you ask nicely, I’m sure they’ll be!”
Bobbi was smiling behind the counter. Hunter was completely speechless behind the cash register and couldn’t function anymore. He hadn’t seen that coming.
“For Fitz’ friends, the cookies will always be free”, he ended up smiling.
“So I’m your friend?” Jemma blushed.
Fitz nodded, his cheeks crimson red. Jemma smiled back at him and grabbed a cookie on the tray. She was enjoying her treat when Bobbi put two fuming mugs on the table.
“Hey Fitz?” Hunter called.
“Yeah?”
“You take a break, Buddy. We can handle it for now”, he smiled.
Fitz smiled. Hunter knew that words now held more meaning to his friend. After everything that happened, after the accident and the months spent crying, frustrated over his jumbled thoughts, maybe this is what he truly deserved. He deserved a friend that wouldn’t make fun of him, that would help him end his sentences and help him clean up the mess. Jemma was the perfect fit for Fitz, there was no doubt. She was patient, she was soft, she knew a lot about his condition and could really help him out. She already was, actually. So this is what would happen.
Fitz would take a break.