Fitzsimmons

7-11

Quick Note: This AU is a request, and I really enjoyed writing it! Send more my way!

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Fitz's stomach rumbled extremely loudly and in time with the bell signaling his entrance. He pulled his loose flannel shirt across his belly, as if that would hide anything, then glanced around the gas station. There was one tired old man working behind the counter to his right, a few kids waiting near the bathroom with a stressed-looking mom, and a smaller girl, about his age, using the service phone. Who knew gas stations even had service phones anymore?

Jemma glanced up from the phone as soon as she heard the bell. Maybe it was her dad, or maybe even Mathew, here to help her change her car's flat tire. But she had only just called her dad, and she was still waiting for Matthew to answer. Matthew was her ex, but he worked in a garage a few miles away, and would probably change a tire if she asked. Anyways, she was disappointed to find that the man walking through the door was some skinny hipster, and not someone that would actually be able to help her. Oh, great, now he was walking up to her, his skinny jeans bagging up around his Chuck Taylors. Did he not understand the purpose of skinny jeans?

The girl smiled at Fitz politely as he passed, making his way to the freezers. He was already an hour late to his cousin's party, and that might have to do with the fact that he didn't want to go. Sluggishly, he adjusted his beanie and opened the door swiftly.

The guy walked right past Jemma, and as she ended her failed phone call with Matthew, she had to admit she felt a little offended by the stumbling, stringy guy's blatant ignorance of her. Instead of bringing it up, she blew a strand of hair out of her fave, pulled it into a messy ponytail on the top of her head, and approached the counter.

"Excuse me," rang a very British voice across the store, and Fitz was forced to turn his head that way. The coolness of the cheap alcohol freezer was drifting into the aisle around him, but he was too busy watching the girl who clearly thought she was the bloody Queen herself. Still, the trails of freckles running down her neck made him smile. Very rarely did he ever meet a Brit who made him want to throw out his Scottish patriotism. "Do you have the number of the nearest car shop? I'm afraid I got a flat tire out there." The tired old man there started rifling through pamphlets with a sigh. Fitz couldn't believe he was opening his mouth.

"I'm an engineering student," called a Scotsman behind her. Great, Scottish. She turned anyways and saw the same beanie-wearing hipster from earlier. He scratched his neck awkwardly before putting his hands on his hips awkwardly. Everything about this man was unbelievably awkward, yet somehow unbelievably... attractive?

The girl turned around, and Fitz was caught off guard by her big brown eyes. He hastily grabbed whichever case his hand landed on and closed the door, practically running to the counter to pay. "I could help you with the flat tire," he said to her, then handed twenty dollars to the man working the counter. God, she was even more beautiful close up.

Jemma felt herself blush as the guy ran through the aisles to her. Okay, so maybe he didn't understand the purpose of skinny jeans, and maybe he was completely overdoing his rugged hipster look, but he was undeniably handsome, in the non-traditional sense. "That would be much appreciated, thanks," she replied, wringing her hands, then leading the way out to her car.

"I'm Jemma, by the way," said the girl, and Fitz was tempted to smile.

"Jemma," the man repeated under his breath, and she laughed before she could stop herself. "Sorry, that was strange, um, I'm Leo, but everyone calls me Fitz."

"Hi, Fitz," Jemma said with an amused look on her face. There were streaks of lighter brown in her hair, and they shimmered just a bit in the light of the sunset. He tripped off the curb, and she laughed at him, her small nose turned up towards the skyline. Fitz nearly pulled out his phone to take a picture of the beautiful scene. Hell, he could do a thousand series of photos of this girl. Maybe he would ask for her number later. He nearly asked her if she had ever been a model.

"Here it is," Jemma said, then gestured to the car in front of her. She sighed at the sight of it, all lopsided. She had run over a glass bottle lying in the road, and the jolt was more frightening than it was fatal. She had pulled off to the nearest gas station to call her dad for help before realizing her phone was dead from the long-distance calls with her mom. Plus, she had an English final the next day. All in all, it was not her best day.

"Okay, two things," Fitz began, laughing at his own thoughts and scratching beneath his beanie out of habit. "Do you have a spare and a car jack?"

"Probably," Jemma replied with an insecure laugh. She opened her trunk, then took a step back, letting him take over.

"This looks bad," Fitz said from his crouched spot beside the car. The tire was completely shredded. "I hope you weren't hurt."

Jemma explained the story to him, mentioning Matthew's skill in the field of mechanics for some unknown reason. Maybe she felt so comfortable with Fitz that she was being so honest. Maybe she was just baiting him.

Fitz gladly took the bait, peacocking immediately about his early graduation from high school, his early enrollment in MIT, his early internship with the world's most prestigious engineering company. Jemma nodded her head, tossing deep brown curls across her pale face, and Fitz eventually had to stop talking, just to observe her better.

"You're not the only one with a long list of scholastic achievements," Jemma replied as soon as Fitz's voice faded out. "I graduated early, too. Attended Oxford for pre-med, and now Boston University School of Medicine." Fitz sent her a look of confusion. "My dad's a professor there. Thought I'd better move to America both to keep an eye on him and expand my knowledge of the medical field."

"My dad owned a garage in a suburb of Boston," Fitz replied thoughtfully as he finished jacking the car up.

"Is that why you wanted to be an engineer?"

"Yeah. And I loved maths in school," Fitz answered with a smirk.

Jemma nearly melted into a puddle at the sight of him. Shimmering slightly with sweat, yet pristine and smiley, like he was truly enjoying himself. She wondered if asking for his number would be too forward. Jemma was never too much of a flirt. But then again, she had never trusted a stranger with her car before. She smiled. "I always liked science in primary, so I suppose that's why I'm becoming a biochemist."

"Engineering and biochem," Fitz uttered, nearly done fastening the tire. "What an odd spontaneous pairing." He scooted himself out from under the car, then sat up, wiping his hands on his dark jeans and hoping they didn't stain.

Jemma smiled, then offered him a ten dollar bill, to which he refused. "Okay, Fitz, I'm not forcing money at you if you don't want it." Instead, she offered to buy her dinner. And although he was about to tell her he was fine, his stomach rumbled intensely, giving him away. They both laughed, then Jemma bought mediocre hot dogs from the rollers (a tofu dog for herself), and one ginormous slurpee for them to share.

Fitz smiled as they talked about college and career and life, all while eating the best gas station food to ever be invented. He remembered to snap some pictures of her before the sun set completely, and he set one of the better ones as her contact photo. He asked her for her number, which she gladly gave him, and they mused about going to a traditional pub sometime.

Under the stars they held hands silently. Jemma forgot about Matthew completely. Fitz accidentally missed his cousin's party. Somehow, they both knew their lives were intertwined now. What a great story to tell.