I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

So this story came about purely from the image of Fitz dressed as Jareth the Goblin King from Labyrinth, when my gorgeous beta amandajbruce and I were brainstorming Halloween costumes for Fitz. If you've never seen the movie, it's a fun one, and would probably provide a good background for reading this fic, but I think you can still understand it.

This is set at Sci-Ops and matches up with my Academy stories, Oh To Be Young and The Shots You Don't Take. It will contain mentions of events and characters in those stories, but again, it's not necessary to read those in order to understand this.

"I look ridiculous."

"No! You look…" Ridiculously hot. Fry an egg on your dashboard hot. Melting point of tungsten hot. But Simmons wasn't about to say that to her best friend, not when he was currently poured into a pair of tight gray trousers, knee high boots, a white silk pirate shirt and one dramatically collared leather jacket. "...really authentic. And it's not girly - will you stop fidgeting? - the Goblin King's eye makeup is one of the most iconic things about him, so just- hold still, Fitz, please."

Simmons swooped the pearlescent cream-colored eye shadow across Fitz's brow before going back and filling in a missed spot of peacock blue along his lids. If she was being honest, the makeup made his already gorgeous eyes stand out even more. She was glad they weren't planning on drinking that evening, or she might have been in trouble. Not that being sober's stopped us before.

Fitz wasn't big on costumes; she'd known that ever since their first Halloween when she'd gone as the Fourth Doctor and he'd steadfastly refused to participate in the celebrations. But how often did the twenty-fifth anniversary of Labyrinth come around with a special showing in the first-run theaters? Featuring a Q & A with the producers and a chance to see a few of the original puppets? She didn't want to go alone, and Fitz was her best friend. Besides, he dragged me to that four-hour presentation on dam structure, nothing wrong with a little payback.

If she was going to go, she was going unapologetically full-tilt, she thought, giving Fitz his leave before brushing the powder from her hands, then tugging on her poet blouse and mask. It was a large thing, covering her head entirely, and would likely be too hot for the late June weather. But, she rationalized, the sun was setting and they would be in an air-conditioned cinema for the majority of the time. And I've already put loads of work into our costumes, no sense changing things around at the last minute.

Fitz's outfit was the real masterpiece, even if he didn't seem to appreciate it. With the blonde Rod Stewart wig and eye makeup in place, he was the spitting image of David Bowie as Jareth, more so when he pulled out a clear plastic gravity ball and began rolling it over his knuckles. The dexterity in his fingers left Jemma a bit breathless as she watched him flip the ball over, under, and back, the hypnotic motion drawing her eyes to the calluses on his thumbs, the neatly trimmed nails, the careful way he placed the sphere here and there and up and down, meticulous as ever. Fiddlesticks. This was going to be torture.

She'd always liked Labyrinth, with its spectacle and puppetry and magic, but adulthood had brought on the realization that Jareth was… well, to put it plainly, he was sexy. And Fitz as Jareth? A small tremor went through her knees as her partner's familiar blue tsunami crashed over her, staring out from beneath a sulky brow, and she was suddenly grateful for the rubber mask hiding her flush.

"I still don't understand why I couldn't be the grumpy little gnome, and you get the leggings and long hair. You'd be a more graceful Goblin King anyway."

She bit her tongue before admitting she might've been desperately curious to see him dressed this way. "I'm Hoggle because I'm shorter than you are. And I can't do that." She gestured to his capable hands, which were still engaged in contact juggling. She squirmed at the thought of how those skills could be put to better use, and tugged up the bottom of her mask so that she could face him fully, the latex edge sitting just above her hairline like a grotesque beanie. "Please, Fitz? You know how long I've been looking forward to this…" She tried her best to keep the whine out of her voice. She really did.

"Fine," he grumbled, "but I'm bringing along somethin' to play with in case I get bored."

I'll give you something to play with. She immediately chastised herself. They hadn't even left the apartment yet and already she was completely distracted by the way the boots made him shift his weight and stand taller, chest broad in the structured jacket, and his surprisingly muscled thighs mocking her through the stretchy fabric.
"If it makes you feel better, go ahead," she conceded, "though I know you're going to love it as much as I do."

As they were walking down the hall towards their theater, a group of pre-teen girls on their way out of a showing of Pirates of the Caribbean stumbled into them.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, please, excuse me," Simmons clucked, though it wasn't her fault.

The girls eyed each other like racehorses before beginning to squeal. "Oh my gosh you're her! Can we have your autograph?"

Simmons halted, looking perplexed at her partner. "Beg your pardon? I think you've got the wrong person."

"It's definitely her," they were whispering to each other, unsubtly, before turning back to Jemma. "From Pirates of the Caribbean? You've got the British accent and everything!"

Simmons rolled her eyes at the idea of a "British" accent and was about to launch into a discussion of linguistics and geography when Fitz spoke up.

"Penelope Cruz?" He peered at the poster just outside the thick door for Theater 3, scrunching his face like a washcloth.

The girls were giggling. "No, the other one! From the earlier movies, you know? She's a total babe." The last comment was thrown at Fitz, apparently confident that he'd easily recall an actress's name when told of her beauty.

"Hear that, Fitz? I remind them of the babe." Simmons gleefully arched an eyebrow, a tiny thrill shooting up her spine at the silly inside joke. Fitz, who still hadn't seen the movie, looked like a kid who'd wandered into the wrong classroom.

"Kyra… no, Keira Knightley!" One of the girls had started flapping her hands in nervous excitement, waving a phone in the air. "That's you, right? Can we get a selfie?" A chorus of young voices started up, pleading.

"What?" Now it was Simmons' turn to furrow her brow. This was all very flattering, but she couldn't really understand it. She hadn't bothered with her hair or makeup tonight, and she was sweaty, and dressed as Hoggle, for crying out loud. "Oh, thank you, she's beautiful, but I'm not-" Simmons was dragged into the middle of their group, cut off by high-pitched exclamations. She saw a cactus sprout across Fitz's face. "Girls, please! I think I would know if I were-" Dozens of cameras went off with clicks and flashes before she was released, a bit unsteady after the brace of numerous bodies against hers, and the girls spun off as one towards the exit, echoing each other in their thanks and muffled eeks of delight.

Fitz knitted his brows together as he took a moment, staring at Simmons, her face still flushed from the attention and the flurry of activity surrounding her. "You shouldn't do that."

"What?" She remained a bit flummoxed.

"Don't put yourself down."

She wrinkled her nose at him in bafflement. "What are you on about?"

Fitz scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shaking his head near-imperceptibly. "Never mind." He motioned to Theater 4. "Why don't I save us seats while you go get some popcorn? And candy. And some Cokes. Actually, you know what, I should just go."

"Candy, Fitz?" She restrained a sigh. "Must we do this every time?"

"Don't lie, you know you're going to want some later. And you're buyin'."

Simmons rolled her eyes and pulled out her wallet.

I like making a lot of references in my fics, so if you caught those, good for you!

Fitz's feelings about Halloween costumes and the Doctor Who costume is from StarryDreamer01's story When it's dark enough, you can see the stars.

The contact juggling is a nod to Fitz's magician abilities and his skill with sleight-of-hand, explored in depth in amandajbruce's Prestidigitation, chapter 16 of Conversation Hearts.

I should have the next chapter up within a couple days. I'm splitting my writing time between making edits to the current chapter and working on the last part of the story.

Hope you liked it!