AN: i totally went for a more pcturesque theme - in my mind they're in a sunny little English village somewhere in the country. no computers or advanced tech, and totally old-school games like hopscotch, jump rope and monkeybars. but hey! see it however you'd like - the world's your oyster. it's a total love-hate relationship in this chapter, and it's mostly filled with childish battles and Jemma channeling her inner-Hermione. i haven't yet seen the finale, so no spoilers please!

- also, this song was totally inspired by Lana's National Anthem, i'd recommend listening to it if you like to listen to music while reading.

...

For a tiny little girl with curly pigtails and a stack of books tucked under her arm, Jemma Simmons packs a punch. She's a bossy, smug, know-it-all with the ability to charm the lollipops out of old ladies and melt the heart of any on-looker.

Well, Leopold Fitz knows better. He knows something is up as soon as she enters the room and sits down next to him with a smug look.

"You missed a p in Apple."

"Your b's are backwards," he counters.

She keeps her gaze trained on the blackboard, but he knows he can spy the beginnings of a smile.

(and the beginnings of a rivalry)

...

"You're looking at her, aren't you?" comes a familiar voice, and Antoine Triplett, fellow friend and classmate slides into the next seat with a carton of milk and a lunch tray.

"She's mean," Fitz confirms, pride having taken a sore hit. At the other table, the girl in question spies him looking and shoots him a (smug) grin in response. "And annoying," he adds, picking at his food.

"You mean Jemma Simmons?" quips another voice, and this time it's Alphonso Mackenzie, with Lance Hunter and Grant Ward in tow. "She's supposed to be the smartest in our class."

"I bet she isn't," Fitz pipes immediately.

Lance wrinkles his nose. "No," he disagrees. "She totally is. She used the word sensational when I was talking to her. What does that even mean?"

"I know what that means," Fitz boasts, lying through his teeth as he tries to avoid glancing back.

"Besides, girls have cooties." There's a general nod of agreement around the table - some things never change.

(and later; "Mum, what does sensational mean?")

...

"Simmons."

"Leopold."

It's like one of those proper western showdowns that his dad used to watch before he passed away, where the two cowboys pull out their guns and prepare for an event to happen. He can almost imagine the tumbleweed floating past the playground.

"First one up to the top wins," Jemma announces, a smug smile curving her lips as she points to the impossibly high monkey bars. The sudden doubt must show on his face because her eyes glint. "Not scared, are you, Leo?"

"No way!" he retorts, flashing a grin in return. "Easy peasy. I'll be at the top before you can tell me you give up."

She purses her lips. "We'll see," she sing-songs.

Tom-boy Skye Coulson stands mediator, hair tangled and grin wide as she counts down the start. "Ready.. steady... go!"

And then the race is really on, one arm over the other, legs swinging and blisters forming on the soft skin of his palm until finally his hands meet air and he falls to the platform with a light thump.

"It's a tie," concludes the shocked crowd who've gathered to watch the show-down.

He gives her a cheeky smirk. "Easy peasy, lemon squeezy."

She sticks her tongue out at him. "This isn't over," she proclaims.

He returns the favour at her retreating figure, watching as she giggles with her friends and they skip away to play jump-rope.

...

"You tied with her on the monkey bars," Lance says in disbelief, sharing a bag of salt and vinegar chips with the group. "Isn't that enough?"

Fitz rolls his eyes. "That was two weeks ago. She already thinks she's the queen of the playground."

"That's because she is," Trip points out like it's obvious.

"We can't let her get away with it!" he protests, ignoring Lance's spluttering as he finishes off the rest of the chippies, licking the salt off his fingers ( - hey, beating poster-child Jemma Simmons is enough to work up a healthy appetite).

"I think she already has," Mack adds, watching as she flashes an older kid a charming smile and gets a lolly and a pat on the head in return.

"Show off," Fitz grumbles.

"You're just mad because no one ever gives you candy," Grant says.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about that."

...

So he plots and schemes and pulls faces behind her back, in the immature primary school fashion that seems to take it's form in most adolescents. He throws crumpled paper balls at her head and pinches her chips when she's not looking and pulls on her curls, so in return she sticks out her foot to trip him up and narks on him for every little detail and makes a point to break the red crayon before he can reach it.

(and all with a smug smile on her lips.)

"You spelt elephant wrong," he'll crow triumphantly one day, and she'll retort with something equally witty like;

"You're looking at it upside down, silly."

("No, he's not," Skye whispers when Fitz's back is turned.

"I know," Jemma shushes her friend, remedying the mistake quickly. "But you can't let him get everything right. He'll get too full of himself and then his head will be bigger then it already is."

"I don't think that's how it works," Skye frowns confusedly.

Jemma sighs, leaning over to fix Skye's spelling mistakes. "It's a metaphor, Skye. You'll get it when you're older."

"We're the same age!"

"I know. It's just something my parents always seem to say.")

...

They're playing hopscotch for PE and even that becomes a competitive sport in the kids eyes, so the boys and girls seperate into different teams and stare each other down until the teacher claps her hands and desperately tells them to turn their frowns upside down.

"Do you know how to play hopscotch, Leo?" Jemma giggles innocently, patting down her skirt and looking like a picture-perfect school-girl with her peter-pan collar and her green school blazer.

"'Course I do," Fitz returns just as wittily, plucking a piece of bark from the ground. "Do you know how to win hopscotch?"

"I guess we'll see," she laughs in response, and suddenly his palms feel sweaty as he tosses the bark. It bounces once; twice, three times.

Two.

"Bad luck, Leo." Jemma exchanges a look with her best friend Skye. "Everybody knows two is the worst number."

...

"Entries for the colouring competition have to be in by the end of the week," the teacher announces cheerily, pausing to eye Fitz and Jemma. "And remember that this is just for fun. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Miss Montgomery," Jemma smiles sweetly, but Fitz can see behind the batted eyelashes that she's already plotting ways to upstage him, to make her work better than his in every aspect possible. Well, he's not exactly going to lie back and let that happen, is he?

"Miss Montgomery?" he pipes up just as innocently. "Can I use the glitter?"

"Yes, but be careful, there isn't much left."

Jemma's pretty smile slips off her face. Fitz grins.

Game on.