Let’s call this event… Sandwich Sunday.
I was procrastinating plotting my actual novel + I had my own ideas of how Fitz’s favorite sandwich first came to be = Here’s a fanfic.
From the point of view of everyone’s favorite teeny biochemist, Jemma Simmons. Who is surprisingly fun to write. xD
SHIELD academy was an incredible place. I’d been here a couple of months by now, and I was still amazed. The technological and scientific advancements just in the academy alone were impressive. I couldn’t imagine when I would finally graduate. What else did SHIELD have out there?
I hadn’t made a lot of friends so far, but I wasn’t lonely. Everyone was quite friendly and I certainly wasn’t an outcast. I was just very absorbed in my studies.
And by the time our first big test rolled around, I was quite glad I’d kept my head down and worked hard on preparing instead of making friends. I wasn’t the top student in my class, but I was prepared. I felt confident. But it really seemed like I was one of the only ones who felt that way.
It was a little odd. Good to go in with confidence at least, though. This wasn’t much more than a placement test. I was sure most everyone would do fine.
The bell rang as the last class of the day ended and I flipped my notebook closed, standing from my desk.
“Your assignments are due tomorrow and don’t forget about the big test. Study up!” the professor called out over the din as all the other students gathered their things and a murmur of conversation buzzed in the previously quiet room.
I stuck my notebook into my bag, put away my other pencils and papers and then looped the strap over one shoulder as I stood. Back to my room then. I had a few last things I needed to go over one last time.
I looked up at the clock, glanced around the room, and then started for the door. I’d gotten my things together faster than most others, so it wasn’t too crowded on the way out the door. I turned sideways and came around the corner.
And ran smack into someone else.
Books tumbled down everywhere. I jumped back with a yelp, feeling my face get red.
My “oh my goodness” overlapped with someone else’s “oh bloody hell”.
“Oh dear, I am so sorry, I didn’t see you,” I dropped my bag and went down to help pick up the books. It was a lot of books. Mostly about chemistry and biology. I tried to move things off to the side a little more as the other students crowded out of the door and around our little spill off to the side.
I looked up to see who it was I’d bumped into, hoping the flush in my cheeks had gone down just a little.
He was down next to me, scrambling to pick up the other books with his face down, but I recognized the head of tight corkscrew curls and the neat collared shirt right away. The boy with the Scottish accent who always sat all by himself and knew the answers to all the questions the teacher asked.
“It’s fine, I should have watched where I was going,” he muttered, putting the stack back together. He blew out his breath.
I put a few more books on the stack, biting my lip and still watching out of the corner of my eye. Trying to remember what the teacher had called him in the last class we’d had together. “You’re… Fitz, right?”
He looked up, meeting my eyes for the first time and looking a little confused. Dark circles ringed under his eyes, standing out against his already pale skin.
“Y-yeah, I’m Fitz.” He wrinkled his nose a little, looking at me for a few more seconds before huffing out a breath and rubbing a hand at the back of his head. “I don’t… sorry, I’m not good with names. And there’s that big test tomorrow and I’ve just been studying…” He shook his head. “Sorry. What was your name again?”
I put the last book in the stack and gave him a friendly smile, holding out my hand. “Jemma Simmons. Nice to meet you.”
Fitz took my hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Simmons. Now I… should probably be… um…” he awkwardly started to get his arms around the book stack again to pick it up.
“Here, I’ll help.” I moved over, taking half of the stack as he stood up.
“You don’t have to…”
“No, it’s fine, really,” I gave him another smile. I bent over a little and looped my bag over one arm again. “I have a small bag anyway. Not a lot to carry.”
Fitz shifted his hold on the books he had, still looking a little worried. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Which way’s your dorm?”
He nodded in the direction he’d been walking and we both started off.
I looked back over at him a little. It was odd, usually the people who were behind on their work were the ones that ended up looking bad around time for big tests. Fitz was clearly ahead of the class and yet…
“Been staying up to the wee hours studying lately?” I asked.
Fitz looked over at me for a second, shrugging. “A little later than normal, yeah. Just trying to get everything in before the test. Don’t want to go in underprepared, you know.”
I nodded understandingly, still eying him. “Mm hmm.” Quiet for a second as I watched his rather unsteady steps. Then I launched into my next question. “When was the last time you ate?”
Fitz looked like he started a little. His brow furrowed up. “Beg pardon?”
“The last time you ate something? You already look so incredibly tired, I just want to make sure you’re at least covering one of the two. Your brain needs the calories to function at proper capacity, you know.” I raised my eyebrows.
“I… uh…” He looked uncomfortable, scrunching his nose a little and looking away from me. “Well I had… something yesterday, I think. An apple for lunch…?”
I gaped at him. “An apple! You, sir, are going to starve one of the academy’s best students to death if you don’t eat something!”
Fitz just looked at me, looking half confused and half guilty.
I gave him a stern look. “We’re taking these books to your dorm, Mr. Fitz. And then I’m making you a sandwich.” I turned back forward and sped my march.
I wasn’t about to break any rules. But getting exceptions to a few rules is remarkably easy when you give a “please” and a smile.
I looked back around the corner, motioning for Fitz to come after me.
He came, catching up to me as we came around into the pantry. “Simmons, are you… sure we’re allowed to be here?”
“I just asked and they said I could. Besides, they do sort of owe it to you since you haven’t eaten anything for so long.” I came over to one of the shelves with bread on it and stood on my tiptoes as I picked out some that looked the freshest.
Fitz looked around the pantry, scratching at the back of his head a little again. “Well I could probably find something in the refrigerator and we could be out of here quicker. You don’t need to make something.”
I rolled my eyes at him, putting the bread down on the counter and walking over to the refrigerator. “If you’re going to eat something, it might as well be something good that will fill you up.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it again, just watching while I bustled around and collected ingredients.
While I claim the title of chemist more than cook, honestly there is a science to making food. To putting together certain ingredients and trying to get a calculated result in the end. And the extra fun of trying to figure what the person you’re making it for would like.
I barely knew Fitz, so that made it even more of a challenge. Even if it was just a simple sandwich I was making.
I kept glancing over at him as I picked out what to put on the bread. Making calculated guesses. In just a couple of minutes, I had a decent sandwich put together. But it seemed like it was missing just a little something. Some last hint of… I wasn’t sure what.
I frowned, looking at the sandwich for a few more seconds before going back to the fridge. I peered through some of the spreads and containers they had on a few of the smaller shelves. Different kinds of mayonnaise… ranch sauce… barbeque… I wrinkled my nose.
And then a small, green container near the back caught my eye. Pesto. That was what Fitz needed on his sandwich. I usually made pesto homemade but… that was going to have to be saved for next time.
I pulled it out and grabbed a small knife to spread it with. Just a little bit on the top piece of bread, then I pressed the sandwich together on the plate. I smiled, propping my hands on my hips and just standing back to admire for a second before I picked up the plate and walked back over to where Fitz was.
“There you are,” I held the plate out to him, beaming. “Prosciutto and mozzarella sandwich. With just a hint of pesto. Should fill you right up.”
Fitz took the plate, eying the sandwich curiously. “Thanks.” He glanced back up at me. “Pesto?”
“Don’t know if I’ve ever had pesto.”
“Oh you’ll love it, trust me. It’s lovely. Very… basil-y.”
Fitz picked up the sandwich as we walked out of the pantry, looking it over again. He hesitantly took a bite and blinked, his face lighting up a little. “That’s a really good sandwich.”
“A Simmons specialty,” I said proudly. “I can make you more whenever you need. That big brain of yours needs fuel, after all.” I narrowed my eyes a little. “Though the cost might be a little bit of study help.”
A sideways grin pulled at Fitz’s mouth as he looked back at me. “Sounds like a deal to me.”
Hope you all liked my little piece of Fitzsimmons fluff for the day. ❤
Have a great Sunday!