Fitzsimmons

50's Diner

Quick Note: I GOT SEASON ONE!!!!! I've been re-watching it every chance I can!

When do you think Fitzsimmons will first kiss? This season? Which episode?

I'm torn between wanting the writers to draw out their relationship and add lots of angst and wanting them to just be together happily.

See if you catch my little cameos!

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"Really, Fitz? A diner date?" Jemma asked, flinching as her eyes were attacked by the checkerboard floor and shiny red everywhere.

"Coulson recommended it." Fitz shrugged.

"Coulson is thirty years older than you!" she retorted.

"Twenty seven, actually. May I take your jacket?" Fitz asked smoothly as Jemma was about to slide into a booth.

"I've got it, thanks." Fitz smiled, then slid into his seat opposite hers. He grabbed two menus as Jemma unbuttoned her navy jacket.

"Order for each other?" he suggested, handing a menu to her. They had tried it a few weeks ago and been surprised when the other chose perfectly. Then they thought about it more, and were less surprised. After all, they were nearly the same person.

"Sure." Jemma flipped open her menu and immediately scanned the sandwich section for something similar to the one she usually made Fitz. Fitz looked for something along the lines of "fish and chips".

"Hello," greeted a waiter donned in what you would imagine a fifties waiter would wear. "My name is Dean, and I'll be taking care of you this evening. Can I start you off with some beverages?"

"She'll have lemonade," Fitz ordered without even looking up.

"He'll have diet," Jemma said with a smile. The waiter grinned back at their adorable exchange, then promised he'd be back 'in a few' with their drinks.

"Did I get it right?" Fitz lowered his menu somewhat anxiously, making eye contact with Jemma.

"No," Jemma began sarcastically. "No, I absolutely despise lemonade. I really think we should reconsider this relationship, since you obviously can't recall my lifelong feud with lemonade." Fitz, relieved, laughed loudly.

"Did I do yours right?" Jemma inquired after a moment of browsing the menu.

"Yeah. But I'm much less opinionated about my beverage of choice."

"Lemonade for the lady," interrupted Dean. He set a glass on Jemma's coaster with a wink. Fitz rolled his eyes. "Diet for the gent." Jemma reached under the table to grab his hand in reassurance.

"Now anything to eat?"

"She'll have the fish and chips."

"And he'll have the classic burger, no onions." The waiter nodded, then made his way to the kitchen.

After a brief silence, Jemma spoke. "I feel like I should be wearing a poodle skirt."

"Yeah, and I should be wearing a leather jacket."

"I always pictured you as more of a point dexter type. With the plaid shirt and glasses..." Jemma broke off into laughter at Fitz's clear disgust.

"No, no, no!" he protested. "I'd be a greaser, you know? Have my own motorcycle and a car or two to fix up." Jemma, for some reason, found this amusing, and burst into a fit of laughter, turning the heads of the few other customers.

"Seriously!" Fitz objected.

"Yeah, whatever." Fitz humphed and slouched down in his booth.

"You wouldn't be one of the popular ones, you know," he argued. "You'd be the single one, alone but not lonely. Constantly reading so you can outsmart the populars."

"Probably, but what would I wear?"

"Plaid skirts." Fitz said out of the blue.

"What?" Jemma feigned confusion.

"Yeah. Plaid skirts and blouses. With huge sweaters."

"And glasses," she added.

"Obviously. You'd need them to study late at night. You would stay up until midnight, and your parents would support you, then you would fall asleep on your book with all the lights on."

"You'd be the surprisingly smart greaser a few streets away that would secretly steal gazes at." Fitz smiled. Usually he was the one that would push their conversations in a romantic direction, so it was a pleasant surprise when Jemma did it. He laced fingers with her above the table.

"Yeah, I would secretly check you out, too. My buddies would tease me about it, and one day I would end up in your backyard, below your window, with a boom box." Jemma pulled her hand away and threw her head back in laughter, much to Fitz's dismay.

"Wrong era," she explained just as Dean reached their table with their food.

"May I interest you in desserts? Pie, perhaps?" Dean's voice rose with enthusiasm when he suggested pie, causing both Fitz and Simmons to have to hold in a laugh.

"I think we're fine," Jemma giggled out.

"Alright. I've actually got to go back home to my husband now. Sam here will bring your bill when you're finished."

Once Fitzsimmons had finished their delicious meal, paid the bill, and left the restaurant, Fitz walked Jemma to the car they had driven there.

"Goodnight kiss?" Jemma said quite boldly after Fitz had opened the passenger door.

"We're going to the same place," Fitz pointed out, then gestured to the seat.

Jemma refused to get in the car. "Just for my fantasy's sake?" she argued, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Fitz chuckled, then leaned forward, moving his head at the last minute and planting a kiss on her cheek instead of her lips. Jemma crossed her arms in mock anger, then slipped into the car.

"We shouldn't move too fast, Jemma." Fitz started the car. "It'll ruin your chances of getting into university."

"Ew, never mind on the role playing." Jemma insisted. "We can create stories, third person. Just be real with me. Be you."

"Okay, then. We're never going on another diner date," Fitz promised as they exited the lot.

"Much too American," Jemma agreed.