Under These Lights {fitzsimmons marching band au}

Chapter Three

It was the end of the first week of band camp when Fitz approached Jemma's locker, swinging his car keys from a saxophone-patterned lanyard.  Jemma grabbed her messenger bag from the locker and shut it, turning slowly to face Fitz, really just wanting to go home and sleep for two days straight.  Band camp in itself was exhausting, but adding the emotional stress from the directors and the rest of the band was enough to make anyone feel as though the life were drained from their body.

Fitz didn't seem affected, however, as he sprung after her when she left the band room.

"I'd really just like to go home and nap, Fitz," Jemma interrupted whatever he was saying.  He laughed and waited for her to settle her bag in the passenger seat.

"Listen, I'm inviting you to my annual 'survived the first half of band camp' party."

She blinked.  "Party?"

"Not really a party," Fitz elaborated.  "I mean, it's band kids only, so there's no alcohol and no pop music, only nerds around a campfire.  Lincoln usually brings his guitar.  It's definitely something you'd want to hear, if you haven't already."

Jemma considered this as Fitz's fingers worked nervously over his school ID.  "I'll ask my parents, okay?" she answered with a polite smile.  She wasn't going to ask her parents.  They'd hardly notice if she were gone for a month, much less a few hours.  She just wanted a cop out answer if she decided she didn't want to go.

As she was exiting the parking lot, she got stuck behind Bobbi's car, which was parked in front of her exit at the moment.  Jemma had a good idea of what was going on in the back seat upon hearing Lance's carrying voice.  She sighed and honked her horn at the couple, and Bobbi, top half bare save for a sports bra, quickly moved the car into a parking spot, smiling sweetly at Jemma as she passed.  Jemma found herself smiling back before she realized what she was doing and accelerated angrily.

Jemma plopped onto the couch as soon as she'd taken off her shoes, then turned on the episode of Doctor Who she'd been watching the previous night and scrolled though her Twitter feed. Jemma used to follow only composers and directors, with the occasional BBC account, but she decided that, to make up for her mediocre conducting, she would start paying social media attention towards the band members she could find.  Who knew that Bobbi ran a drum line account?  Well, it was mostly pictures of Lance sleeping, but there were occasionally tweets about drum line.

Just as she retweeted the tenth tweet on her timeline about Fitz's party in disguise as sentiment for the band, Fitz texted her again.

So are you coming? I need to know numbers for food.

She snickered and looked around, as if someone would catch her texting Fitz, like it was some horrid thing.  Jemma smiled as she typed out messages.

For food purposes, I'll say I'm coming.

No promises on if I'll actually be there.

You can have my food if I don't show

For a moment she returned her attention to David Tennant when her screen lit up again.  She checked it far too eagerly, and decided she would criticize herself for it later.

Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather have you

She stared at the text, eyebrows furrowed momentarily, completely ignoring the unpaired episode running in the back.

Not have you like that

Christ

I meant your company

She smirked.

I'm sure you did, aioli boy

Jemma wondered where Fitz was right now.  Who he was with.  Was he stopped at a grocery store, picking through the snack aisle?  Was he paying for it himself?  Jemma didn't know too much about the Fitzs' financial situation, but she did get that she was far better off than he was.  Was Katie pitching in?

Suddenly, worry struck through Jemma's stomach, and it wasn't due to the cyberman invasion on the television screen. What if he used up his whole budget trying to please people, and didn't get enough back to support his mum?  Her family had never had a financial crisis, ever, as far as Jemma knew.  She couldn't imagine how tight things ran at the Fitz household.

Jemma was basically indebted to him for all those patient hours of conducting practice.  It was the least she could do, really.  Suddenly, she stood up, pausing the episode, and ran up the stairs as she tapped out a reply to Fitz.

Scratch that, I'm coming.  Could I get an address?

She stared at her closet while waiting for the reply.

I'm so excited! Here, I'll send you a GoogleMaps link.

Jemma laughed at the phone.  What a nerd.  As she flipped through her small assortment of dresses (concert dresses, audition dresses, funeral/wedding dresses, freshman year homecoming dress), she reviewed the details of the party in her mind.  He'd said outdoors, so a jacket would definitely be necessary.  But there would also be a fire, so no flimsy cardigans or blazers, leaving her ratty grey hoodie from junior high...  And there had to be a short enough skirt.  Maybe she'd keep her hair down, to blanket her neck.  He'd also mentioned drinks, which have a habit of getting spilt all over dresses, so she should choose an old, dark one.  Just as she found an old maroon audition dress that would work, she heard the garage door open.

"What's got you all dressed up?" her mom asked as she tried walking out the door.

"Just a band thing," Jemma replied, knowing her voice had risen half an octave from the lying she was attempting. Her mom raised her eyebrows at Jemma, then went back to unpacking groceries and muttering into an earpiece.

"Okay fine, it's technically a party," Jemma admitted, bracing herself, but her mom kept talking to her client like she hadn't hardly noticed.

"Will there be boys?" she asked suddenly, and Jemma nodded. "Alcohol?" She shook her head no. "Band kids only, then? Sounds fine, Meredith," she finished, pointing at the earpiece, then giving Jemma a vague thumbs up.

Jemma sighed softly and swung her purse over her shoulder before heading out the door and driving off in her car. Her parents, as she'd expected, weren't even concerned with her whereabouts or safety. She could be on her way to some dive bar or a fight club or a thousand other possibilities about as likely as Jemma attending a party, and she doubted her parents would give a single shit about it. When you run a company like both of her parents, the company becomes your child. No successful CEO needs extra commitment, especially not if she would never live up to their business management expectations.

In a way, only one person in her life actually saw who she was as a person and accepted it without batting an eye. Though she'd wanted to hate him since the moment she'd found out about the other drum major, she just couldn't. He understood her like no one else had ever tried to, and she'd only talked with him for five days. Fitz was still on her mind as she pulled into a parking space on the street, sensing the steady thrum of a guitar melody cutting through the crisp night air.

She locked the car door and made her way up to the front porch, regretting that she'd forgotten her hoodie at home, and rung the doorbell.