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It was an annual tradition in the Fitz-Simmons household to make four things on Halloween: apple cider, caramel apples, potato soup, and pumpkin donuts. They were coveted delicacies, craved throughout the year by anyone who had ever tasted them and gobbled up the moment they were in sight. The first time they had appeared had been the same year that Fitz and Jemma had moved into their little cottage in Scotland. That Halloween was the first time the whole Shield family had visited and it only felt fitting to have a proper autumn meal. And the tradition just stuck, Halloween becoming the time the team all trooped over to Scotland to visit everyone’s favorite scientists.
The tradition did, however, require a good bit of work to come to fruition each year. Cooking a meal for the entire team was a lot but Jemma and Fitz did get repaid in free babysitting for four days, which was always a bonus.
Now that Maisie was a little older, they were excited to let her be a part of the baking process. She loved to dump things into the bowl and stir until her little arms couldn’t mix anymore and she had an adorable habit of saying “Ta-da!” after she had contributed any ingredient into the mixture. The only thing about baking with a little one, though, was that it took twice as much concentration, having to be in charge of both the recipe and making sure the kitchen remained safe.
“No, Maisie! Don’t touch that!”
Jemma, alone with both children after sending Fitz to the shops for more flour, was trying her best to keep her cool as she ran across the kitchen to pick up her three-year-old daughter. She understood the girl’s wish to be involved and she had told her daughter she could help. Next to the boiling pot of caramel, however, was not exactly where she wanted her three-year-old assistant. She also knew that the toddler truly wanted more to be involved in the taste testing. Jemma brushed her daughter’s hair out of her eyes, settling her on her hip as she forcibly removed her from the cooking area.
“But candy!” the little blue-eyed girl whined, taking Jemma aback with how much she was like her father.
“Yes, darling, I know. But it’s melting candy. It will burn you. I’ll let you help with the donuts okay, love. In the meantime, why don’t you go make your brother laugh. You love making James giggle,” Jemma suggested, putting down her daughter and tucking her golden curls behind her ear.
“But candy.”
Jemma sighed, deciding it was better not to fight with a three-year-old about candy on Halloween morning. Grabbing the stool next to the sink, Jemma opened the cabinet above the fridge, the highest storage spot in the kitchen, and pulled down the orange and black bowl they kept the Halloween candy in. Jemma couldn’t help but notice there was a fair bit of candy missing already, leading her to roll her eyes as her lips ticked upwards. Her husband’s sweet tooth had prevailed once again. She took out a singular piece of chocolate, unwrapping it and handing it to her daughter. The little girl lit up like a light, taking the sweet with a smile and a thank you before rushing over to tickle her baby brother’s feet and jingle a toy in front of his dazzling blue eyes.
Looking out the cottage window, Jemma spotted the family car pulling into the gravel driveway. Warmth flooded her heart as she saw Fitz exit the vehicle, rushing inside as a strong gust of orange and yellow dotted wind hit his side. Tracking in a few stray leaves and the sweet earthy smell of autumn, Fitz opened the front door.
“Jemma? You will not believe the line at the shop today, but I got the flour,” Fitz called as he toed off his shoes, placing them properly in their hand-crafted cubby, a project he had finished that summer.
As Fitz entered into the kitchen, holding two canvas grocery bags in his fists, Masie dropped the toy she had been waving in front of her brother and bolted at her father.
“Daddy!” the girl cried, her unruly golden curls flying. Fitz, knowing the drill, quickly dropped the bag on the ground to catch his daughter in his arms, the little girl having leaped into the air, her black spiderweb tutu making her look like a little ballerina.
“Hello, monkey,” Fitz laughed, kissing his daughter’s cheek as he rested her on his hip. “How is baking with mummy going?” Fitz looked over to Jemma, who stood next to the stove, stirring the contents of the large pot, a smile tugging up the corners of her mouth. No matter how tired she was or how much was to be done, it didn’t stop her heart from melting at the sight of her loving husband with their children.
“We’re making apples!” Maisie cried happily.
Fitz took in a dramatic breath as he turned his gleaming eyes to his daughter. “Really! Are they all for me?”
Maisie scrunched her nose, a look that brought out all her Jemma features, and put her small hands on her father’s face. “No, daddy. For all of us!”
“Oooh. For all of us.”
“But I’ll make you one special,” Maisie offered, tucking her head onto her father’s shoulders as she wrapped her arms protectively around his neck. Jemma looked at Fitz, her bottom lip sticking out as she saw pure love flood his face. Setting down his daughter, a process made difficult when she refused to unlatch her arms, Fitz walked over to his son, who sat chewing the ear of his toy monkey, a gift from Aunty Daisy.
“And how is baby monkey?” Fitz asked, picking up his son from his swing. James giggled wildly, his little fists reaching up to pat Fitz’s stubbled cheeks.
“He’s ready for a nap,” Jemma commented as she stirred the caramel liquid.
Fitz kissed the top of his son’s head as he walked over to Jemma. She stepped away from the boiling pot as Fitz wrapped his free arm around her waist, their lips meeting in a tender kiss.
A chuckle fell from Fitz’s mouth, gently breaking the kiss. “You have sugar on your face, Jems,” Fitz muttered through a smile, their noses still touching.
“Ah yes. There was a sugar incident. As much as I would like to blame the children for that one, I cannot.” Fitz chuckled but Jemma cut it off with another kiss, once more getting lost in their little moment before stepping back to the pot.
“Mummy, can I help stir please?” Maisie asked, skipping over to stand at her father’s leg, clutching onto the fabric of his jeans.
“No, darling. I already said it would burn you.”
“But--”
Fitz put his hand gently on the crown of his daughter’s head, the gesture leading the little girl on to look up into her father’s face.
“Why don’t you, me, and James read the Halloween book while mummy does the caramel apples and then we can come back and help with the donuts once James is asleep?”
At the mention of Maisie’s coveted book, the girl beamed brightly and nodded her head. She ran-skipped to the living room to grab the picture book, Fitz following behind her. After he had snuck a spare unwrapped caramel from the counter, of course, dodging Jemma’s light swat. Jemma rolled her eyes as Fitz waggled his eyebrows playfully at her, popping the sweet into his mouth.
Like father like daughter.