The boring disclaimers: All characters etc. belong to MARVEL and AOS. Also, the work of good ol' William Shakespeare inspired the title for this fic. This sucker turned into a bit of a monster of a fic but most of it's already written... which means that HOPEFULLY I'll be able to post chapters 2-3 times a week (most likely Thursday, Sunday, and Tuesday). The rating will most likely remain the same throughout but *might* change depending on whether or not I have the guts to include one specific chapter later down the road that could bump up the rating a letter or two.

It's not until Fitz wakes up twenty minutes after he was supposed to that he realizes he'd never set his alarm clock the night before. Normally it wouldn't be too big of a deal, his lack of steady employment means that his schedule is generally more than flexible, but today was one of the few in which he really needed to be up on time.

He double-checks the watch on his wrist to confirm what his taunting alarm clock had already told him: late. Late, late, late. He has a mere ten minutes to get himself and his accoutrements to the meeting point 6 blocks down from his apartment, and he silently thanks the god he doesn't really believe in that he'd been smart enough to set everything up next to the door before collapsing asleep in exhaustion last night.

Fitz forgoes his usual morning shower, not willing to give up any of his time today of all days for something as inconsequential as personal hygiene. Though he does shoot the shower a forlorn look as he rushes through brushing his teeth and tugging on the clothes that he's pretty sure were from the clean hamper.

He glances at his watch again and his eyes widen as he sees the time. 8 minutes left. Shit.

He bolts out of the bathroom, scooping up his worn Chucks along the way and yanking them onto his feet with a horribly embarrassing set of hops. He desperately wants to take the time to brew himself a cup of coffee but knows that he can't show up late to the meeting when he's the one who'd organized the bloody thing in the first place.

He's about to yell out to Skye that he's leaving but thinks better of it when he remembers the last time he woke her up before eleven. Instead he sticks a hastily written note on the fridge, reminding her that he'll be gone all day and she'll have to be the one doing the grocery shopping this afternoon.

Fitz tosses the pen onto the nearby couch and makes his way to the flat's door. The signs are propped against it where he'd left them the night before and he grins at his past self's forward thinking. The grin falters slightly when he realizes just how many signs the group had made, and at the fact that he was the one who'd have to lug them all to the building. He doesn't give himself more than a second to lament this fact, instead throwing his backpack over his shoulder and scooping the pile of poster-board into his arms.

For the first time since moving in Fitz is able to lock his apartment door without the use of WD-40 and he finds himself grinning as he begins his hurried descent down the five flights of stairs separating him from the exit. By some stroke of luck he makes it to the street-level in record time without dropping anything.

His luck seems to run out almost immediately though because in his haste to leave the apartment building, he doesn't see the chestnut-haired woman until he is barreling into her.

The signs and posters go flying as Fitz himself stumbles forward. He expects to encounter the sharp sting of the sidewalk but instead feels himself collide with something far softer. He hears a sharp, "Oh," and stills instantly at the distinctly English, and even more distinctly feminine, voice that gasps into his ear.

Fitz maneuvers his arms so that they are on either side of the startled woman and uses what little upper body strength he has to push his weight off of her. He manages a rather pathetic push-up before his brain seems to connect with his eyes and he is able to fully take note of how absolutely beautiful the woman beneath him really is.

Her eyes are the exact shade of the Scotch whiskey that Skye likes to order for him whenever she's in the mood to enforce certain stereotypes, and the faint freckles that dust her nose remind him of the now nameless girl he'd had a crush on in grade school. Fitz's gaze flits briefly to the woman's lips and just as quickly returns to her eyes when he hears her say something.

"What was that?" He's both surprised and unsurprised that he'd missed her statement. Surprised because his ears are a few scant inches away from her mouth, well within hearing range, yet completely unsurprised because his mental and motor functions tend to fail him when he's within two feet of women as pretty as this one. Actually, he's not sure he's ever been within two feet of a woman this pretty.

"I asked if you planned to keep going." Definitely English then.

"Keep going where?" Now that his mind is coming back to him Fitz realizes that he actually does need to keep going, though he's not sure why a perfect stranger would ask him about it.

"Keep going as in that push-up got you halfway there..." He can feel his face stuck on it's confused expression and tilts his head hoping that it will spurn her on and make her realize his need for bluntness. The movement seems to do the trick because she rolls her eyes and continues. "Would you please be so kind as to get off of me? I'm late for work.

Fitz feels his eyes bulge and he knows he must look as comical as he feels because the woman lets out a soft laugh as she pushes at his chest with a warm hand. The touch snaps him out of the general stupor she's left him in and he quickly pushes himself to a standing position, hastily reaching down to help up the still chuckling woman.

"I'm so sorry! I was in a rush and wasn't paying any attention to where I was going. Should have looked up instead of keeping my eyes on my own two feet." He's a bit more forwardly helpful than he normally would be, foregoing pulling her up by the hand and instead reaching down to grasp her by the waist and lift her to her feet. He doesn't miss the woman's quick inhalation of breath and realizes that, as a complete stranger, he probably should have asked before essentially picking her up off the ground. "Sorry, sorry! I just… I was just trying to help."

Once he's certain she's steady, Fitz hastily removes his hands, opting to shove them in his pockets for fear of doing something stupid… again. Her own hands, which had grasped his arms during lift-off, fall to her side momentarily before they begin gesticulate wildly in front of her as he opens his mouth to apologize again. "Stop, it's fine. Apology accepted and appreciated."

She gives him a friendly smile and tucks a wayward hair behind her ear with far more elegance than what such a mundane movement is worthy of. His eyes are torn, flitting between her grin and the blush spreading across her face. He wonders what she has to blush about before he realizes that he's been staring at her, mouth agape, for far longer than what would normally be deemed appropriate.

He looks down at his feet in an attempt to hide his own blush and registers the utter chaos that surrounds him. The various signs and printed information sheets litter the ground and he groans as he scoops down to pick the mess up. The groan intensifies as he catches sight of his watch and he mentally calculates how late he's going to end up being after this literal run-in.

He can't help thinking that his tardiness may not be all that bad considering the reason for it.

Fitz assumes that the woman had simply walked off after he'd made such an ass of himself, and is startled when his hand brushes against a much smaller one while reaching for the last pamphlet that is visible on the city sidewalk. He flinches back immediately as his head whips up in surprise and he once again finds himself lost in the varying shades of gold and caramel mingling in her eyes.

She grins again as she stands up, holding out her hand to help him to his feet, and he notices the paper she'd collected tucked beneath her other arm. He gestures towards it and manages a stuttered, "Thank… Thank you... Umm…" His sentence dies on his lips as he realizes he doesn't actually know what to call her.

"Jemma." She pauses briefly to acknowledge his muttered, "Fitz," before continuing. "And it's not a problem. Truly. You seemed like you could use the help." She deftly tucks her hair behind her ear again and he finds himself thinking that it's a more interesting and enthralling sight than anything he'd glimpsed before. He makes to take the paper from her grasp and is slightly confused when she takes a step back out of his reach.

"I couldn't help noticing the SciTech logo on your pamphlets. Are you headed in that direction?" He nods dumbly, still confused by her silent refusal to return his leaflets and slightly distracted by the fact that she's speaking to him at all, and watches as she smiles again and begins to walk backwards. "That's just another few blocks, need an extra pair of hands? I'm headed south as well and… Not to be insulting… But you seem to be the kind of person who'll drop those poor signs another dozen times before actually reach your destination."

He's not even the slightest bit offended. Partially because the statement is completely true, but mostly because he's not sure the woman in front of him could say anything that he wouldn't agree with in pathetic awe.

"Yeah… Umm yeah. An extra pair of hands would do wonders right about now actually." He smiles tentatively at Jemma and watches as she turns around and begins to walk in the same direction he'd been headed. His own feet are far less cooperative and it takes her shooting a look over his shoulder and asking, "Well, are you coming?" for him to start moving.

Fitz scurries to catch up, slowing his pace once he is situated next to her and waits a few uncomfortable moments before speaking up once again. "Thanks again. I'm late enough as it is and I have a feeling that not being able to see through an armful of paper wouldn't have done much help."

Jemma laughs at this. "No I bet not. Poor sight could cause you to plow into an unsuspecting citizen on their way to work…" His face flushes red and he turns to apologize again when he catches her mischievous grin and the quick wink she shoots in his direction. He narrows his eyes at her, huffing his breath in false indignation before his façade cracks and he matches her smile with one of his own.

"So… What is it that you're in such a hurry to get to? If my asking isn't too forward …" She tacks on the last sentence quickly and he is suddenly overwhelmed with the impression that she is unfailingly polite.

"Oh well umm… I'd read an article last week about the GH325 project that SciTech is initiating…" He sees Jemma's head flash in his direction, an indescribable eagerness in her expression, and he's spurned on by her seeming interest in the topic, "…Which is absolutely deplorable and a complete waste of funds if you ask me."

He swears he sees her stiffen, eagerness deflating into a look of placidity, but in an instant her smile is back in place and she motions for him to continue.

"Well they're conducting experiments on innocent animals. Mice, rats, even harmless chimps! And all to research a mysterious drug that they have no business messing around with! GH325 isn't something that should see the light of day, yet SciTech is firing on all cylinders to experiment it. It's disgusting!"

He can feel himself getting riled up and is suddenly even more appreciative that Jemma had taken it upon herself to carry some of his belongings, since his wild gesticulations would have been far more difficult with the additional load.

She makes a non-committal hum when he stops to take a breath and he turns to look at her. Her jaw is slightly clenched and he watches as she opens one of the pamphlets he'd made and begins to peruse it. Her eyes narrow slightly as they skim the words but otherwise she makes no physical reaction. He takes this as another sign that he should continue speaking, which he does so with gusto.

"Let me tell you, it's a load of soulless robots working at that place. They're more concerned with having their names published on a byline in JAMA than they are with the possible consequences of their actions. It's inhumane and unnecessary if you ask me." They're about a block away from SciTech at this point and he can see the small crowd gathered outside of the building. He spots Mack's tall frame and internally grumbles about the lecture he's sure to receive for being late.

The red DON'T WALK sign flashes at him tauntingly from across the street and he takes advantage of his misfortune by once again focusing on the woman next to him. There's an odd expression on her face, a weird mix of what he thinks is sadness and determination, and he watches as she looks from the leaflets to the crowd of SHIELD members across the street. She turns to face him with a similarly odd glint in her eyes. "Surely you can't truly believe that scientific progress is so abhorrent! The potential discoveries that the project could have are endless!"

He grins at her question and the challenging note in her voice. Her nose scrunches up as she stares defiantly up at him and he can't help but take advantage of the opportunity to prove his point. "Scientific progress shouldn't be reliant on abusing animals for the sake of investigating a highly unpredictable drug. Possible vaccines…"

Jemma mutters, "Anti-serums," just loud enough for him to hear, but otherwise does nothing to stop his speech.

"Alright, possible anti-serums shouldn't be tested on defenseless animals that lowlife scientists deem less significant than potentially helpful lab results."

She rebuts his statement with one of her own and he in turn provides another counter argument. Fitz finds the back and forth interaction to be rather stimulating, he hasn't debated with a worthy partner in ages, and he doesn't even realize they'd crossed the street and made it to where his fellow protestors have gathered until he bumps into her still frame once again.

Jemma thrusts the pamphlets into his hands rather abruptly and he is taken aback by the sudden coolness that seems to surround her.

"Well it's been lovely chatting with you Fitz, but I really must be going now. I have quite a lot of work to do today." She points towards the building they've stopped in front of and he finds himself doing a double take.

SciTech. They've stopped outside of SciTech.

"Work? This is… This is… Oh… Oh no…"

He thinks that gob-smacked may actually be an understatement for the look that is currently on his face. There's a brief flare of anger as he puts two and two together but it pales in comparison to the embarrassment and slight disappointment he feels as he realizes who she is.

"You're… You're…"

"Doctor Jemma Simmons, lead research scientist heading the GH325 project you seem to know so much about. Though I suppose if you reallywant, you can call me… what was it? Soulless Robot?" She pauses long enough to glance at the group of people calling his name and waving him over to the demonstration. There's a flash of something in her eyes before she returns her gaze to him and gives him a smile far less warm than the one he'd grown accustomed to during their short walk over. "Happy protesting Fitz."

And with that, she leaves him standing in front of SciTech with his jaw on the floor and his foot in his mouth.