Work Text:
The club is crowded with creatures of the night. The light is purple and night blue. Artificial fog makes everything seem blurry. The music is joined by hollow zombie-groaning and hysterical witch-laughter.
It’s the annual Halloween Party and it’s a great success like always.
Jemma is sitting at the bar, waiting or her cocktail. She feels a bit lost. And bored. The people here are mostly her flatmate Daisy’s friends. Daisy, who ran off with some guy just moments ago, leaving Jemma at the bar and saying she would soon come back. Great …
Jemma winces when a vampire bumps against her and mumbles a barely audible apology around his artificial blood sprinkled fangs. Jemma has to admit his costume is impressive. And at least, people don’t ask that guy what or who he is … It’s obvious. Jemma is going as Peggy Carter this year and she had to explain the costume a few times already. Annoying.
She’s relived when the bartender puts her drink in front of her. She reaches for it and quickly takes a huge sip. Ugh. Jemma grimaces. She almost spits the liquid burning sourly in her throat back into the glass. That’s definitely not, what she has ordered, her cocktail was supposed to be sweet and taste like cherry … What even is this?! Pure Ginger? Now even her lips are burning. She warily glances at the cocktail that’s of course Halloween themed and has the colour of mud.
“Excuse me,” she says to the bartender’s back. He doesn’t react and continues cutting lemons, so she almost screams the next time, cursing the way too loud annoying music. He flinches and finally turns around. “Yes?” He says, but she reads it more off his lips than actually hearing it. “I think you might have handed me the wrong drink.”
The bartender’s eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, er, I’m sorry,” he stutters, reaching for her drink and almost knocking it over. He blushes and avoids her eyes. “There were so many orders a few minutes ago, I must have mixed them up, sorry!”
Jemma feels a bit amused about his erratic reaction. Oh, he’s cute. Now he’s closer, she can see even in the dim light that his eyes are remarkably blue. His curls are unruly and his shirt quite crumpled. She’s certain he’s about her age.
He nervously scratches the back of his head. “Er. What do you want? Anything on the house for you, after my mistake.”
“Oh. Thank you. I’d take what I initially wanted,” Jemma says and orders the cocktail again.
He makes it and Jemma watches him work. He’s quick, his fingers skilful. After he put it in front of her careful – Jemma notices the extra marshmallow he put on a little stick immediately – he asks, “So … Peggy Carter fan, huh?”, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.
“Oh. You’re the first one figuring my costume out!” Jemma beams and looks him up and down, frowning. All the other workers in the club have at least painted their face or have anything Halloween related on them, like flashy pumpkin earrings. But this man looks surprisingly ordinary and therefore a bit out of place here. “And you are …”
“I’m me,” he quickly says with a cute crooked grin and blushes. “I … I didn’t really intend to work today. I’m … I’m not into big parties. But my colleague Hunter is sick and when he asked me to step in … I couldn’t say no.”
Jemma nods, feeling sympathetic. “I didn’t really want to be here either,” she tells him. “My friend Daisy asked me to go with her … But I’m not sure where she is now.” She sighs, finding it quite annoying and exhausting, to scream over the music all the time.
“Ah,” he makes, seeming nervous. “Uh. I’m Fitz,“ he says after a long moment.
The name sounds strange, but it also fits in a certain way. She smiles at him. “I’m Jemma Simmons.”
After a moment, Fitz has to take orders from some other guests. Jemma watches him, feeling a strange fluttery feeling in her chest. Suddenly, Daisy is behind her, lifting her werewolf mask and grinning. “Hey Jems, Ward suggested to go for Burgers. You’re hungry?”
Not really. Jemma feels more like staying here, watching Fitz working forever. But she also feels tired and her ears are getting a bit numb from the loud music. She notices Fitz looking at them. She smiles at him and decides to be bold. Just one time. “Maybe … I can come here when there’s no party,” she says.
Fitz’s eyes light up. “I’d like that. Uh. I’m working on Sunday again. I … I can make you my special hot chocolate with cinnamon.” He sounds hopeful.
Jemma smiles. “That would be lovely. But please don’t mix it with something like a ginger shot.”
They chuckle and Jemma feels a strange yet pleasant kind of natural connection between them.
Daisy looks between them curiously. Jemma smiles at her and gets up, leading the way through the crowd.
Outside, when they finally breath fresh air, Daisy grabs Jemma’s arm. “Okay Jems. Now you tell me everything about that guy with the cute nose and the freckles.”
Jemma grins. It looks like she has to thank Daisy after all, although the evening didn’t start great, it ended in a very unsuspected but promising way.