Chapter Text
Jemma Simmons considered herself to be a people person. She always enjoyed social gatherings, networking, and meeting new people. Being around others gave her energy. Tonight, however, was a decidedly different experience.
The air in the dim, crowded hotel bar she currently sat in was abuzz with chatter, threaded through with the sounds of clinking drink glasses and the wandering melody of a live jazz piano. Everyone around her clustered in groups at the bar or around tables or in booths, but Jemma sat alone staring down into the depths of her gin and tonic. It was only the first night of the annual Advances in Biotechnology Global Summit in New York City, and things were already looking grim.
It had started out well enough. Jemma had been a regular attendee of the conference ever since earning her doctorate and joining Bioworks, the research and development lab she worked for in London, but this was the first year she’d been asked to present. It was a huge honor as the conference was quite prestigious and well-regarded within her field, and Jemma had spent weeks preparing alongside her coworker and fellow biochemist, Kenneth Turgeon.
The presentation itself had gone off without a hitch earlier that afternoon, and they’d been flooded with questions afterward. Jemma had been gobsmacked when Leo Fitz of all people had approached them, but then Kenneth had monopolized the entire conversation, barely letting her get in a word edgewise. Her one opportunity to talk to a man of that caliber about her work had been dashed. Hence the moody drinking and keeping to herself at the evening mixer.
She could see him standing at a tall table a short distance across the room. Leo Fitz, that was, not Kenneth—who knew what he was getting up to right now. Probably celebrating his success with his friends from Roxxon. Fitz, meanwhile, was surrounded by a throng of admirers, and Jemma wished she had the courage to go join them—but there was no way she would be able to get a word in there, either. Not with that many people jockeying for his attention.
Fitz, as he’d told them he liked to be called, was a brilliant inventor and businessman. A child prodigy who’d graduated with a double doctorate in mechanical engineering and physics from MIT at sixteen, he’d founded his own innovative tech company and was so successful he’d become both a minor celebrity and one of the richest men in Britain by the age of twenty-five. Everyone in the science world wanted to curry his favor, it seemed like; a contract with LJF Technologies could secure someone enough funding to see their project all the way through to completion. And the Summit was lucky to have him on as a keynote speaker—if Jemma recalled correctly, this was his first public speaking engagement since the untimely death of his wife a year or so ago.
She watched him over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of her gin and tonic. Fitz seemed to be doing a lot of listening rather than talking. She wondered if that was a common occurrence for him—though he’d had several insightful questions, Kenneth had certainly talked his ear off. Maybe that was part and parcel of being famous and admired, having to listen to everyone try to impress you. Jemma sighed and stared glumly down into her drink again. She supposed she was really no different in that regard. She’d fancied that if she could just get his attention for a moment, she could wow him with her detailed research on the potential applications of various neurotoxins. In reality, he would probably be bored by it. Biochemistry wasn’t his specialty, after all.
Two moody sips later, she swished the remnants of her drink around in the bottom of her glass and considered ordering another. It felt like a self-indulgent, two- or three-drink kind of night. She snuck another look at Fitz.
And sucked in a sharp breath when she found him looking right back at her.
She quickly shot her eyes back down to her drink, her cheeks burning at having been caught staring. Maybe it had been an accident. He’d just been scanning the room and she’d happened to look up as he glanced over her. That was all it was.
Jemma looked back up. Shit, he was still watching her. This time when their eyes met, he gave her a small smile.
She smiled hesitantly back, unsure of what was going on, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t smiling at any of the people to either side of her. Fitz’s smile widened slightly, but then he looked away, back to one of his conversation mates. The smile lingered, however, and occasionally he would glance back at her, a small curve still ticking up the corners of his mouth.
Jemma took a healthy gulp of the last dregs of her gin and tonic, finding comfort in the burn of the alcohol down her throat. Was Leo Fitz making eyes at her across the bar? Why? She’d barely said more than three sentences to him after her presentation; Kenneth had seen to that with all of his bloviating chatter about their research. She’d been positive she barely registered on his radar.
Next to her, the couple that had been chatting over beers for some time pushed back their barstools and stood, preparing to leave. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Jemma looked over to see Fitz excusing himself from the group gathered at his table. Then he started making his way toward her. Her eyes widened. Shit, shit, shit.
She hastily turned her attention to the television mounted above the bar, acting like she was engrossed in whatever sports game was playing. A moment later a Scottish accent behind her asked, “Is this seat taken?”
“Oh!” Jemma looked around to find Fitz standing right at the recently-vacated stool next to her, and elected to pretend that she was surprised instead of being fully aware that he’d been staring at her from across the room. She smiled and indicated that he was welcome to take a seat. “No, go ahead.”
“Cheers.” He smiled back and eased himself onto the stool next to her, clasping his hands together on the bar. “Jemma Simmons, right?” Before she could reply, he grimaced slightly and added, “Of course it is. We met earlier.”
Jemma couldn’t help but smile, pleased that he remembered her name at least. “Right. And you’re Leo Fitz, of course.”
Fitz sighed and rolled his eyes, looking long-suffering. “Of course,” he grumbled. “Everyone always knows who I am.”
Her smile grew; his irritation was a little amusing. “I take it you don’t enjoy much anonymity, what with your successful company and all,” she ventured.
He shook his head. “Not a bit.” Then he pointed to her empty drink. “Do you want another? I’m going to order.”
“Oh,” Jemma said again, this time with a rush of warmth. He was doing alright so far, if his aim was to chat her up. “Yes please, thank you. I’ll take a gin and tonic.”
Fitz signaled for the bartender, and once they had their drinks—a whisky sour for Fitz—he shifted to face her with a serious look on his face. “I actually wanted to talk to you more about your presentation,” he said. “You didn’t get to say much when we were talking afterward.”
Jemma’s stomach did a funny little flip, a strange mixture of excitement and faint disappointment jolting through her. She was thrilled that he specifically wanted to talk to her about her work, but she wouldn’t deny a little regret that he wasn’t actually chatting her up. Fitz was a good-looking man: average height, eyes that shone a brilliant blue when viewed up close, sandy curls, and short stubble that dusted his cheeks and jaw. And that was on top of him being wicked smart. But he was a recent widower, she reminded herself, so he probably wasn’t even looking.
“No, I didn’t,” she replied a little sheepishly, looking down at her drink. “Though I wanted to.”
“Is your partner always like that?” Fitz asked, grinning. “Kenneth, was that his name?”
Jemma laughed. So he’d definitely noticed Kenneth hogging the conversation, then. “Well…” she hedged, dragging the syllable out.
Fitz kept grinning as he took a sip of his whisky, his eyes sparkling with good humor. “You can be honest.”
“He’s usually not that bad,” Jemma ceded, drawing an aimless shape on the bar with one finger. “But he wanted to impress you. So he made it sound like he did most of the work.”
Fitz rolled his eyes again, but this time he was smiling ruefully. “That tends to happen a lot,” he said. “With me.” Then he grimaced again. “Christ, that sounds arrogant.”
“It’s not arrogant if it’s true,” she pointed out, and she had no doubt that it was. “Anyway, I would have wanted to impress you as well, so I’m not all that different from everyone else, am I?”
Taking another sip of his drink, Fitz laughed lightly. “But would you have talked about the work, or yourself?”
Jemma gave him her best smile. “I like to think I would have spoken about the work.”
Fitz nodded once. “Alright, then. Let’s talk about the work.”
She sat up straighter. “What did you know about neurotoxins before today?”
They fell into deep discussion about the various sorts of toxins she had researched and tested—in particular dendrotoxins, which Jemma felt could have a wide variety of applications for human use. Specifically, Fitz was interested in how they could potentially be used to create non-lethal weaponry, something he said his company was interested in pursuing.
“You’re not looking for a job, are you?” he joked.
“No,” Jemma replied, laughing into her drink. “I’m actually very happy where I am. Besides, my boss would be furious if I came back from this conference and told her Leo Fitz had seduced me away to work for him.”
She could swear Fitz’s cheeks flushed pink, but it was difficult to tell in the low lighting of the bar. “I would never,” he said with dignity. “I only steal people who are already in the market for a new job.”
“I’m teasing.” Jemma took another, longer sip of her gin and tonic, unable to stop smiling. It was so easy to talk to Fitz—she’d never spoken with anyone who was so open and receptive to her ideas before, not even her own boss, and it amazed her how seriously he took what she said and how attentive he was to her opinions. And it wasn’t in a predatory way, either; her gut instinct told her he wasn’t out to steal her ideas. He just enjoyed talking shop about science and tech. He’d told her about some of the ideas he wanted to put forth into development as well, and Jemma was amazed when he seemed to genuinely take her thoughts on them into consideration. He was a world-class inventor and scientist, and she was just a research biochemist; he wasn’t required to take her opinions on anything seriously.
Though it came as a surprise, how open and forthcoming Fitz was in his conversation. He had a reputation for being a bit of an eccentric, which Jemma could see in how passionate he got about his favorite subjects, but he’d also been a recluse for the past year as well, after the death of his wife. She remembered reading about it—it had been all over the news, a tragic hiking accident in Switzerland. All the reports said that Fitz had been devastated. Anyone who lost a spouse suddenly like that would grieve terribly, so Jemma thought that it was nice to see him finally out and about amongst people, socializing at the conference.
And… possibly hitting on her?
She was beginning to wonder if her initial assessment of Fitz’s intentions hadn’t been so far off the mark. Not that he was laying it on thick or anything, or that talking about science was a means to an end—no one who got that excited discussing the mechanics of micro-drones was intentionally looking to pick someone up—but there were cues.
The way he’d angled himself to face her fully on his seat, his arm propped up on the bar; the way his eyes had tracked over her at least once as she’d talked and lingered on her mouth. The way he smiled. The way he—only once, as if he didn’t even realize he’d done it—touched her arm as they spoke. Far from being creepy, it was actually somewhat thrilling. She’d thought him attractive, after all, and he was very interesting. And it had been a long time since she’d been on a date.
But maybe she was misreading things. His wife had died. Perhaps he just wanted a friend. What was the conventionally acceptable amount of time for one to grieve a significant other before they attempted to enter the dating pool again?
Jemma didn’t know. But she enjoyed the attention, regardless.
They continued to talk and nurse their drinks until they realized that the mixer crowd was thinning out and that the hour had grown quite late. If they didn’t want to absolutely drag arse in the morning, it was probably time to call it a night.
Fitz kindly paid for her drinks and they left the bar together, heading for the hotel’s lobby. “So,” he said casually, hands in his trouser pockets, “are you coming to the keynote presentation tomorrow?”
Jemma smiled to herself. That was his presentation, the one all of the conference attendees were looking forward to seeing. “I was planning on it,” she replied as they came to a stop in front of the lifts. Fitz reached out and hit the call button.
“Good. That’s good.” He looked down, scuffing the toe of one of his expensive-looking leather shoes against the tile floor. “I’ll look forward to seeing you there. Hopefully I won’t muck it all up.”
Jemma laughed softly as the lift dinged and the doors opened with a soft swish. “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she said, stepping inside at Fitz’s gesture to go ahead of him. She’d seen videos of other presentations he’d given and he always spoke well.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see. What floor are you?”
She looked over his shoulder at the rows of number buttons. “Thirty-two,” she replied.
“Ah. Same floor as me, fancy that.” He jammed his finger into the corresponding button and smiled back at her, and the lift shuddered into motion. They were both quiet as the car rose, but it wasn’t awkward. Rather, it felt more like the comfortable silence of old friends used to being in one another’s company.
When the lift arrived on their floor and they exited out into the hallway, Fitz moved to go in the opposite direction from her. “I’m this way,” he said, pointing. Then he smiled, a small uptick at the corners of his mouth. “It was nice talking to you, Jemma. Have a good night.”
Jemma smiled back. “You too, Fitz. Goodnight.” She turned to go down the hall toward her room, a light warmth settling in her chest. She felt like she really had gained a friend at the very least, and it was an unexpected yet very welcome turn of events at the conference. Her day might have started out miserably, but it had ended rather nicely.