Chapter Text
Fitz stood in the shadows of the narrow alley as he weighed in his options.
He could go straight ahead through Town Hall Square and Main Street. It was the most direct way home but it was also the highest risk of coming across one of the town's gossips trying to get information out of him about his romantic situation under the guise of small talk, or worse, being ambushed by one of the church ladies. He could also go around the grocery store, straight to the edge of the river and get home through the trail bordering the river where he'd only come across people running and young couples who had no interest in small talk with him. But that way was twice as long and he was carrying heavy grocery bags. Just because he was a lumberjack didn't mean he liked carrying heavy bags for longer than necessary.
Taking a deep breath, he adopted his grumpiest expression and started towards Town Hall Square, hoping it was enough to discourage any attempt to talk to him.
"Leopold! Just the man I was looking for."
Fitz considered pretending he hadn't heard Mrs Nathanson but it seemed like she was going deaf because he could swear she was louder every time she spoke to him. Stopping reluctantly and turning around, he was met with what could only be described as a human Christmas tree. She was wearing an aggressively green coat covering most of her body and she had, for some reason, decided to pair it with a red hat. Even worse than the queen that one.
"Just Fitz," he said with a tense smile. "What can I do for you Mrs Nathanson? I'm kind of in a hurry right now." In a hurry to be as far away from you as possible.
"Well, we're going to start rehearsing for the annual Christmas show and I noticed that you still haven't signed up for it."
"Oooh that! Of course," Fitz said as he tried his best not to roll his eyes. "There's a very simple explanation for it. I'm not participating."
The woman's mouth opened in an O of shock and indignation and Fitz had to bite his lip not to grin.
"I know it's a busy time for you, Leo, but—"
"Fitz."
"But if you could spare just a few hours a week, it would really help make the show even better."
Fitz didn't resist rolling his eyes this time. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't being very clear. I haven't signed up because I don't want to participate."
Mrs Nathanson actually gasped. Of course, she couldn't even imagine that someone wouldn't want to work for free doing stage design for a terrible Christmas play that made him want to vomit with how sweet and at the same time sanctimonious and judgey it usually was. Honestly, how did they keep getting enough money to do that every year?
"But it's not only about the play. It's about meeting people and getting into the holiday spirit." She was trying very hard to keep the too sweet smile on her face. Someone really wanted the local lumberjack-slash-wood-worker to provide a decently looking stage for free to make up for the terrible singing and acting.
"It's alright, I don't need to meet new people and I'm perfectly fine getting into the holiday spirit by myself."
And who was he going to meet anyway? This town had less than a thousand residents and he was the only one selling Christmas trees. He'd already met everyone and he was perfectly happy with carrying on seeing only the few people he liked and/or tolerated here.
"You know Leo, you'll never get married if you don't go out a bit."
"IT'S FITZ! MY NAME IS FITZ!" he exploded.
A few heads turned their way, sending Fitz disapproving glares. Good. Maybe that would discourage future small talk. He hadn't even meant to be so loud but there was only so much crap he could take from the rude, annoying older woman. And it had been years. "I've told you a million times. Is that so hard to remember?"
She straightened up as if she was trying to make herself bigger and more intimidating. She seemed to have forgotten that he had grown bigger and taller than she was since they first met when he was just ten. "There's no need to be rude. You can just—"
"I told you a million times my name was Fitz, just like I told you a million times that I didn't want you or anyone to play matchmaker, and I'm running out of ways to say it politely. I'm perfectly fine on my own and if I ever want to meet someone, you're the last person I'll go to. I've met your husband."
"Fitz!"
"See, that wasn't so hard."
"I won't tolerate being talked to that way and I don't like your insinuations about my husband."
He wasn't insinuating anything. His husband was the worst man he'd ever met. He was rude, racist, misogynistic and he'd been cheating on his wife for as long as Fitz was old enough to understand what that meant. The man didn't even try to hide it. He was even worse than Fitz's own father was and that was saying something.
"Well, I better stop talking altogether then. I have work to do and groceries to take care of. Have a nice day, Mrs Nathanson."
Before she had the time to answer, Fitz started back on his way home. Thankfully, she was getting a little too slow to catch up with him and he didn't think anyone else would bother him today. He understood now why people in small towns always took their car everywhere. It wasn't the walking that scared them, it was the risk of coming across a million people they knew before they could get where they set out to go.
Once the groceries were taken care of and his lunch was heating up in the oven, Fitz grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled onto the couch for a well deserved break. He didn't actually have a lot of work to do this afternoon except a little paperwork, which meant he'd have time to spend on his other projects. Which was a shame really. For once, it would probably feel nice to throw an axe into the trunk of a tree. While, objectively, there were advantages to living in a small town, life here, at least from his experience, was far from what he used to see on TV when he was a kid in Glasgow. People weren't quite as welcoming for one, and when they said they enjoyed the slow life of a little town, it usually meant that there was nowhere to rush to anyway because there was never anything interesting to do or see.
After twenty years, he'd gotten used to life here, it wasn't like he had any other choice, but sometimes, he couldn't help thinking that another, more exciting life, was waiting for him somewhere else. Preferably somewhere that wasn't a tiny Scottish village with a population that was mostly made of white people over 70.
Just as the oven dinged to signal his food was ready, his phone started ringing. He was going to let it go to voicemail but the name and picture on the screen brought a big smile to his face. So he quickly turned the oven off and picked up the call.
"Has Bobbi canceled the wedding yet?"
"'fraid not," Hunter answered as he always did, and Fitz could practically see the mischievous grin on his best friend's face.
"So how are you doing? Nervous?"
"About my family meeting Bobbi's family? Yes. About marrying Bobbi? Absolutely not."
"You really mean it, do you?"
"Yep."
"Ugh!" Fitz let out as he let himself fall onto the couch. "This is disgustingly sweet."
But there was a big smile on Fitz's face. When those two stopped being stupid, they were actually perfect for each other and he was glad they were finally getting to the point they were at now.
"So I guess you weren't calling just to brag about your relationship, were you?"
"I wasn't, no. Listen, I know you're always busy this time of year and I'm probably wasting both our time here but I haven't seen you in over a year and I would love for you to be at my bachelor party."
"When is it?"
"A week before the wedding."
"So in ten days?"
"On December 12th, yeah. Wait, Fitz, are you actually—"
"I'm in!"
"Really?" Hunter replied, his voice going a little high.
"Really. When can I get to New York?"
"As soon as you like. The guest room is waiting for you."
"I have some miles to use, I can change my tickets and be there in a few days."
"Really?"
Fitz rolled his eyes. "You're starting to sound like a broken record."
"Come on, mate. You said you couldn't take more than a few days off for my wedding and suddenly you're taking two weeks off at the last minute. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy about it but what happened? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, the business is doing really good. I actually hired a few people so I can have more free time. It's just…I need a change of scenery." Fitz sighed as he stood up and went to look out the window. Ballindalloch was, objectively, a rather beautiful little town but some days, he just couldn't stand the sight of it. Hunter calling him now just as he was having another third-life crisis --or whatever people had when they were thirty-- felt like a sign from the universe. He smiled. Just thinking of getting onto the plane to New York put him in a better mood than he'd been in for a long time.
"Also, I miss your stupid face."
"Awwww."
Fitz's smile turned into a cheshire cat grin. "And I need to at least try to change Bobbi's mind and ask her to marry me instead of you."
"Fuck you!"
"Love you too, see you in a few days!"
Jemma wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck, buried as much of her face in it as she could, then pushed the door open, ready to face the December cold with a big smile on her face. The meeting with SHIELD had gone so well that morning that nothing could dampen her spirits. Not even the biting wind or the disgusting slush this late morning's snow had turned into even though she was wearing very impractical pumps.
With the help of SHIELD's team, her dendrotoxin was finally going to move on to the next phase and be able to save countless lives. The fact they'd beaten Hydra to it was just an added bonus. So to celebrate this victory, she was going to go and buy herself the prettiest Christmas tree she could find before getting a quick lunch with her best friend and going back to work. December was starting on an excellent note and Jemma had a feeling it was only going to get better. It was going to be a busy one and she might have to take care of her Christmas shopping mostly online but it would be more than worth it for all the exciting work coming these next few weeks.
Thankfully, Jemma didn't have to walk more than a block to get to a Christmas tree seller —one of the perks of working and living in Manhattan— and she managed to get there without spraining her ankle in the slush.
She started walking down an alley, looking left and right for the perfect tree. It had been a while since she had the time to go out and choose her own tree but she knew what she wanted: a pretty, symmetrical shape and a nice, strong smell. After a few minutes, she stopped in front of a tree that seemed to fit all her criteria although it might be a bit too tall even for the high ceiling of her apartment.
"You shouldn't take this one. It looks pretty now but the needles are going to be all over the floor in two days."
Jemma turned to the source of the Scottish accented voice, ready to not thank him for the unwanted advice, but she was met with the prettiest pair of blue eyes she'd ever seen set on an equally pretty face. She wasn't usually a fan of the hipster look but she had to admit the stubble paired with a plaid jacket worked for him. He looked around then started towards another tree a few meters away, giving Jemma the opportunity to let her eyes wander down to his backside. The nicely fitted jeans were also an excellent choice on his part and she was glad for the scarf hiding half of her face because she'd rather he didn't see her bite her lip.
It was one of the only downsides to her job. It didn't leave her much time to date and the apps just weren't for her. Which ended up with her occasionally drooling over a way too hot mansplaining idiot.
"That one, that's a white fir. It doesn't grow as tall but it's sturdy and the needles don't fall as easily. Oh and also, the smell is fantastic." He got closer and sighed happily as he smelled the tree before nodding towards it with a big smile. "Here, you should give it a…"
He trailed off when he finally noticed her raised eyebrows. His cheeks grew pink and he made a funny little grimace. Which was not not cute.
"I uh… Sorry, that was weird and probably more than you wanted to know about Christmas trees. I um... I just can't help myself sometimes."
Uh. Maybe he wasn't a mansplainer and just a bit of a weirdo.
"You can't help yourself? Are you some sort of Christmas tree expert?"
He let out an awkward little laugh. "I'm a lumberjack." Jemma snorted but he shook his head with a big smile. "No, I swear it's true. Here, I can show you..." He trailed off as he started pulling his wallet from inside his jacket but he stopped himself halfway through it and bit his lip.
"Yeah, I don't have anything to show for it. It's not like it's written on my ID or anything."
Jemma couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her. Definitely a bit of a weirdo. A cute one that had just dragged her attention down to his very pretty, pink lips. She wondered if she could ask him to make a lumberjack demonstration of some sort to prove he was what he said he was. She wouldn't hate that.
"Wait," he started again before she had the time to say anything. Maybe he'd offer to do a demonstration himself if she didn't interrupt him. "I'm not from around here and I know Americans are weird but…Christmas tree expert? Is that really a thing here? Like some sort of job? Can you make a living off it?"
Jemma shrugged as the beginning of a smile pulled at her lips. "I don't know. Might be possible. I've seen weirder things in some movies."
"How would that work outside of the Christmas season?"
"A Christmas tree museum? A Christmas tree decorating workshop?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Who would be interested in that outside of Christmas?"
"The Santa Claus village in Finland is open to tourists year round."
"Oh my god, are you a Christmas expert? That'd make my unwanted advice even more embarrassing."
"I teach a history of Christmas class in university," she replied, trying her best to keep a straight face.
"What? Really?"
Jemma couldn't control the smile that pulled at her lips at the adorable expression on his face. "No."
"Then how--"
"I went there with my family as a child."
"Oh! Was it nice?"
"It was cold."
He made that funny grimace again. "That doesn't answer my question."
She chuckled. "It was magical. And cold."
He gave her a crooked smile then that did something low in her belly. Was he really that hot or was she seeing him through a haze of horniness? She shook her head and looked away for a second. Nope. Still really hot.
"So you really are a lumberjack? But you don't work here, do you?"
"Ah no, I'm here for a wedding. And yeah, just a humble lumberjack with a reasonable interest in Christmas tree species."
"Reasonable?" Jemma asked with a raised eyebrow. She had already decided that he was more socially awkward than anything else, on top of being very, very cute, but a little teasing never hurt anyone.
His cheeks got a little pinker as he gave an apologetic smile.
"Yeah sorry, I realize you didn't ask and probably didn't need the advice. It's just these places tend to rip people off selling the flashy big trees that don't last when these really good trees are completely ignored."
Jemma smiled. She liked a passionate man. Even if it was just about Christmas trees, it might transfer to other aspects of his life. She took a few steps closer, to the tree, and took a deep breath.
"It does smell fantastic."
He nodded enthusiastically.
"And it does have a nice symmetrical shape that would fit more easily in my apartment. So I'm going to forgive you for the unwanted but good advice. And thank you."
"Happy to help. Well, I'll leave you to it then, I have to run."
Disappointment hit her harder than she'd expected given that he'd met him only a few minutes ago and thought he was an idiot for half of it.
"So what? You just hang around Christmas tree shops like a vigilante waiting to help the Christmas trees in need of a good home?"
His crooked smile was back. "Now, that's a movie I'd watch."
Jemma laughed. "I've seen weirder on the Hallmark channel."
"Really?" He shook his head. "Now I really wish I had time to hear about those but I'm meeting a friend and I was just looking for a place to find shelter from the wind while I looked up the way on Google Maps."
"Oh, of course. Well, next time you need to find shelter, there's a coffee shop just around the corner with good wi-fi, no annoying Christmas music and the best tea you'll find in New York. If that's something you're interested in."
"That sounds heavenly. Well, I uh..." he started, looking down as his hand flexed and relaxed a few times before he looked back up. "I really have to go now. It was nice meeting you and uh…merry Christmas."
"You too!"
Jemma sighed. Well, she still had the deal with SHIELD and he probably would have proven to be boring or just too weird anyway. Still, she watched him walk away for a few seconds longer than was proper. His jeans were straining over his arse when he walked and for a second she had the urge to give it a tight squeeze like an absolute creep. She shook her head and put her hands on her cheeks that were overheating from her own perverted thoughts.
"Who was the sexy hipster?"
Jemma startled and almost slipped on the wet ground as she turned to her best friend.
"Daisy!" she cried out. "Were you spying on me?"
"No, I just didn't want to interrupt. That looked promising."
Jemma rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arm around Daisy's and started looking for a salesman. Her friend was wearing much more sensible boots and she was counting on her to catch her if she slipped.
"It was just harmless flirting. He was giving me advice on Christmas trees."
"Alright. Interesting…I guess. So what's his name?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't ask for his number?"
"No, like I said—"
"Jemma! You cannot rely on vibrators indefinitely. Even the kind your money can buy."
"Daisy!" Jemma shouted-whispered. She wasn't wrong but she didn't need everyone around to know about her lack of a sex life.
"It's true Jem. He was cute and he made you smile. What more do you want?"
Jemma shrugged. "I don't know! I gave him an opportunity to ask me out and he didn't take it so he probably wasn't interested anyway."
"As if. Do you know anything else about him? Maybe I can track him down or--"
"He's a Scottish lumberjack."
Daisy snorted.
"Another flannel wearing hipster then."
"No, I really think he's a lumberjack."
Daisy raised her eyebrows before shaking her head. "Talk about missed opportunity. What happened to being an independent woman and going after what you want?"
Jemma sighed. "He was in a hurry. I didn't want to...I don't know. It's just as well. He's probably dull as dishwater anyway. I'd rather keep the much better imagined version of him in my mind."
"An imaginary version of him won't do you any good when you get so horny you—"
"Daisy!"