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Jemma was sprawled over the couch, a foot kicked up on the armrest and her hair mussed around her face. The Return of the King was playing on the television in front of her and there was a giant bin of used tissues a few feet in front of her, a fresh box off to one side. It was right as she was about to fall asleep that three quick, sharp knocks rang from the door. Groaning and wiping up her face as best she could, she shuffled to the door and tugged it open.
She must have presented quite a sight, half-slumped in the doorway with red-rimmed eyes and a runny nose, but the guy in front of her only seemed put off for a moment. She recognized him- that cute engineer who lived next door with the lovely smile and pretty eyes that would nod to her when she passed in the hall. Lovely that he gets to see me like this, she thought.
“Um, hi. I’m Fitz, and I, uh- well, I live next door and I know we really haven’t ever talked but you seem like the friendly neighbor type and I was wondering if you’d do me a quick favor.” There was a pause as she stared at him.
“A favor?”
“Er- yeah,” he said, raising an arm to scratch the back of his neck. “This is probably really awkward but there’s a huge fucking spider in my bath tub and I was wondering if you could get it out.”
Jemma had to use all of her willpower to keep from bursting into laughter right then and there. Instead, she smothered the way her lips were curling up at the edges with her hand, choking down the laughter.
“Hey, don’t laugh!” he cried, and she couldn’t hold it anymore. After a few moments, she managed to get out a few coherent sentences.
“No, it’s fine, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just- God, was I not expecting that.” He even cracked a smile at that. “Sure, I’ll come help, so long as you don’t mind the walking infection being in your house,” she joked.
“Not at all,” he replied with a smile.
Ten minutes later:
“Where’d it go?!” Both of them were now standing on the bed, back to back, brandishing various household implements before them as if in defense.
“I don’t know!”
“How’d you even lose it?”
“How did you?!”
“I looked away for a second! A second! Besides, you were supposed to catch the damn thing!”
“Well I’m sorry if this thing is faster than a goddamn weeping angel!”
“Why’d you blink, then?!”
“Because I’m human!”
“OhmygodIthinkit’soverthere-”
Whack!
“Ow!”
“Sorry!”
“How do you miss that badly?!”
“Sorry!”
“How is that even humanly possible?”
“I said sorry!” There was a pause.
“I… I think it’s gone,” said Simmons tentatively. Slowly, she turned to look in the corners. “It should be gone.” Relaxing and flopping into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, she let out a slow groan and kneaded her temples. “Sorry for hitting you. I think my balance is off or something.”
“It’s fine.” There was a pause, and she felt the bed shift as he settled next to her. “Sorry for dragging you on a futile mission.”
“It’s alright.” They sat there a moment in the silence, letting the adrenaline drain from their bodies. “…Didn’t you have to take a shower?”
“Oh, right!” Fitz stood again, and she rose as well, heading for the door.
“I’ll be heading home, then. Hopefully there’re no more bathtub spiders lurking in wait,” she teased, turning the handle.
“If there are, I will be sure to whack them with a broom as soundly as you did to me,” he replied, causing her to scrunch up her nose at him before slipping out the door and heading home to collapse on her couch again.
About an hour later, there was a knock on the door and a half-sentient Jemma answered the door to find wet-haired Fitz holding a tupperware of what looked like-
“Is that chicken noodle?”
“As a sorry for dragging you out for a futile mission.”
“Oh. Thanks,” she said, cracking a weak smile. “Want to come in? I know I’m sick and all but there’s Battle of Five Armies on, if you’d like to stick around.”
“Uh… sure,” he said, and she smiled and cracked open the door a bit more.
Jemma walked over to the living room and flicked on the movie again. “Kitchen’s to the left if you want to put that down.”
“I’ll get you a bowl,” he offered, smiling at her murmured thank-yous as she settled on the couch.
Fitz was hardly looking as he poured the warm soup into a bowl, eyes fixed on the screen as the armies clashed in beautifully choreographed scenes, accompanied by a swelling of the music. Fishing a spoon out of the fourth drawer he opened, he walked over to the couch and set the bowl in front of her, nodding to her murmured thanks.
In a sudden flurry of motion and a small scream, Jemma shoved the bowl of steaming soup away from her, letting it slide to the other side of the coffee table. There was a pause as Leo turned from the screen to stare at the horror written on every part of her face. The sounds of metal clashing echoed from the television set, but her eyes were fixed on the bowl in front of her as the scene continued.
“You know how you lost the spider?”
“…Yeah?”
“I’m not eating your soup.”
“What?”
“No offence, but I’m not eating your soup.” Slowly, carefully, he leaned over and looked into the bowl.
“Oh,” he managed, staring down the hairy legs that floated in the bowl. “Definitely not chicken.”
“Definitely.”
“Sorry.”
“At least we know where it is now.”
“Point taken.” After a few more seconds of staring, Leo rose and gingerly picked up the bowl. “I’ll just go dump this now.”
“Thank you for the thought?” Nodding and holding the bowl as far from his body as physically possible, Fitz walked slowly into the kitchen and soon Jemma could hear the grinding, mechanical sound of the garbage disposal. After a few moments, he came back and settled next to her on the couch. For the next hour or so, they watched the action flash across the screen, Simmons tearing up a bit as Bilbo mourned and the movie concluded. Afterward, Fitz stood to leave.
“Thanks for the help with the spider thing, and the movie.”
“Of course,” she beamed, standing and stretching. “Thank you for the spider soup.” Fitz cringed a little at that and they laughed, bidding each other goodbye.
The next day, Jemma found a fresh tupperwear of soup at her door, a note taped to the top in a scribbled hand reading Some spider free soup. Feel better! –Fitz