You don’t need to worry about replying to me anymore. I know you would rather be replying to other people, and when I turn up in your askbox it’s just annoying. There’s always someone else you would rather be writing with than me. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I make you lose your muse. I won’t be bothering you anymore.
Tag Archives: theengineerfitz
I wish I could figure out how to talk to these people without getting blown off immediately.
Folding her arms, Summer watched him twitch over the table. “That’s good … there a reason why you aren’t telling me the whole truth?” She tilted her head to the side. “Would you rather talk about it somewhere else?” One hand indicated the lab. “I’m not asking about it just for gossip’s sake.”
He balked at that, narrowing his eyes. There was something about her tone that sounded accusatory. “I am telling you the whole truth, thank you very much,” he snapped back. He caught his tone and then softened it to be businesslike. “Things are going well. We’ve go’ a lo’ of unique agens’ with unique talens’. There a reason SHIELD’s come asking after Agen’ Coulson?”
Reaching out, she put her hands over his wrists. “Someone has to watch out for people who go through traumatic situations. That’s me. I don’t think you can deny that Phil Coulson went through a traumatic situation. He died. I’ll be talking to him, too, don’t worry.” Summer squeezed slightly and let go, folding her hands behind her back. “Can we try this again, please? I want to know how things are going with /you/.”
“It must be the hair. It’s the hair, isn’t it?” She pulled a strand in front of her face and crossed her eyes at it. “Maybe I’ll dye it.” Putting the ID away, she awarded Fitz a sceptical look. “The Bus? Agent Coulson’s new team?”
“Oh. Righ’. Well,” he folded his arms and leaned forward on the table. “Going well, I s’ppose. Go’ a few good agens’. Agen’ Coulson’s a good leader. Is’ interesting work.” He shrugged before grabbing a Clorox disinfecting wipe and starting to wipe down some of the surfaces. He was, of course, making it sound miles above where it was actually at. But he figured mentioning any of the sheer dysfunction going on to a superior officer wouldn’t be a great idea.
Folding her arms, Summer watched him twitch over the table. “That’s good … there a reason why you aren’t telling me the whole truth?” She tilted her head to the side. “Would you rather talk about it somewhere else?” One hand indicated the lab. “I’m not asking about it just for gossip’s sake.”
Summer sighed faintly, mouth quirking, and showed him her own SHIELD ID card. How people thought she got into these spaces without being part of SHIELD, she didn’t know, but the doubt was always there. “Do I not look like I work for SHIELD or something?” she inquired rhetorically. “I just wondered if you had a few minutes to talk to me about what’s been going on with you lately.”
He wiped his hands on stray rag. “No’ really,” he told her honestly. She looked like a civilian if he’d ever seen one. But if she had the credentials, he supposed it wasn’t his place to question. “Ah…tha’ depends. Wha’ is it you think has been…going on with me?”
“It must be the hair. It’s the hair, isn’t it?” She pulled a strand in front of her face and crossed her eyes at it. “Maybe I’ll dye it.” Putting the ID away, she awarded Fitz a sceptical look. “The Bus? Agent Coulson’s new team?”
Oh, bother, awkward — how do you strike up a conversation with someone about their work, in a highly classified facility, when clearly you were looking for them and — well, basically, you don’t. You plunge right in and hope for the best. ”I was looking for Leo Fitz? Would that be you?”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He glanced down at what he was working on and set to putting it away as smoothly as he could without looking like he was scrambling to hide it. He wasn’t really. But he wasn’t sure this girl had the clearance, yet. “Why? If I migh’ ask?”
Summer sighed faintly, mouth quirking, and showed him her own SHIELD ID card. How people thought she got into these spaces without being part of SHIELD, she didn’t know, but the doubt was always there. “Do I not look like I work for SHIELD or something?” she inquired rhetorically. “I just wondered if you had a few minutes to talk to me about what’s been going on with you lately.”
Summer wandered casually around SHIELD headquarters. Well, sort of casually. Pretend casually. She was supposed to be sort of informally checking in on Coulson’s new team, see how they were shaking down, how Fitzsimmons was taking to being in the field (and not incidentally combat), how Ward was handling the whole being part of a team thing, stuff like that. Of course, in order to do that, she had to /find/ one of them.
Preferably away from the others. It would get a bit complicated sorting out responses if they were all together. Not that she couldn’t, but the report would be clearer in the end if she tackled each one separately.
And there was one of them now. Summer quietly maneuvered herself over and said, “Hey there.”
Fitz looked up from the worktable at the sight of the newcomer. “Ah…hello,” he greeted warily. “Can I help you?”
Oh, bother, awkward — how do you strike up a conversation with someone about their work, in a highly classified facility, when clearly you were looking for them and — well, basically, you don’t. You plunge right in and hope for the best. ”I was looking for Leo Fitz? Would that be you?”
Summer wandered casually around SHIELD headquarters. Well, sort of casually. Pretend casually. She was supposed to be sort of informally checking in on Coulson’s new team, see how they were shaking down, how Fitzsimmons was taking to being in the field (and not incidentally combat), how Ward was handling the whole being part of a team thing, stuff like that. Of course, in order to do that, she had to /find/ one of them.
Preferably away from the others. It would get a bit complicated sorting out responses if they were all together. Not that she couldn’t, but the report would be clearer in the end if she tackled each one separately.
And there was one of them now. Summer quietly maneuvered herself over and said, “Hey there.”
♣✘☢
Send ♣ for a text not meant for you
[text] (2:01 AM) Jemma, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Come on back to bed.
Send ✘ for a text that should never have been sent
[text] (10:25 AM) Tell Stark the next time he wants one of his damn bots rebuilt, the least he could do is give me the proper supplies.
Send ☢ for a desperate text
[text] (7:26 PM) I know it’s a lot to ask…but could you take Jemma on a girls night or…whatever tonight? I need to…do something. She’s good company. I promise.
[text to: Leo Fitz] it was my bot, not his, and I don’t know what the supplies are. sorry. I brought it to the secondbest roboticist I knew of.
Your muse comes home to find my muse on their doorstep, curled up and asleep and clearly waiting for your muse. What does your muse do?
Fitz froze on the path before his first step, frowning. “Ah…” he circled around one way awkwardly and then back the other. Finally he wound up kneeling down on the middle step and nudging her once. “Ahm, S-Summer? Hey, ah…you’re blocking my door.”
“Oh, nothing. Just, I don’t like to take little things like this to him … ” She touched a fingertip to one of the loose wires, face a dull red.
“Oh…righ’…” he said as if he understood. She still hadn’t answered his question. “So, wha’ does the bo’ do?”
“It’s, um, it’s a solar robot toy … it’s not scientific or anything, only walks around, or moves around … I didn’t build it originally, so I can’t fix it.” Why did he have to keep asking these questions? She didn’t want to think about where it had come from, or why she had to have it fixed, why it couldn’t be let to stay broken.