This is the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. take on the swell rom-com that is 2004's Wimbledon. The characters belong to Marvel and the plot is inspired by the film (with some minor to major tweaks to better suit Fitz and Simmons) so credit must be given to both. This sucker is unbetaed so apologies for any egregious or barely noticeable errors.

At last, the end is here! Many thanks for reading and commenting! Hope 'Love All' entertained you for at least a little bit!

"Fitz, come on. Jesus you just had to stop for food…"

"I'm coming. Wouldn't've had to stop for food if you'd booked us on the right flight…"

"Oh for crying…"

"...it'll just be one day Fitz…"

"...don't know how many times I can apologize…"

"...definitely make it back in time…"

"...didn't exactly hear you complaining when you were face-first in a chocolate fountain…"

"...no chance of missing it…"

"Shh!"

Daisy swats him on the chest as they step into the sunlight and are greeted with the sound of the steady thwack of a tennis ball interspersed with the telltale grunts of the players below.

Glancing at the scoreboard, Fitz winces when he sees how much of the match he and Daisy have already missed before grinning at the fact that, if the 6-1, 4-0 score is anything to go by, it seems as though they haven't actually missed much.

Following Daisy's lead, Fitz maneuvers his way through the stands, quickly flashing his pass at a security guard, before joining the small group of people already seated in the VIP box. Keeping his eyes on the court below as he moves into the reserved section, he doesn't even bother hiding the awestruck expression on his face as he observes the payers below. Despite the many matches he's watched over his lifetime, there's always a beauty to the almost effortless manner in which this game is played when the competitors are in their element.

Barely settled in his seat, Fitz cringes when a muttered, "You're late," is heard over the silence of the transfixed crowd.

Turning slightly to better face May, Fitz let's the petulance come out as he mumbles under his breath, "Yeah well you can blame my genius agent for that." Glancing at Daisy long enough to see that she's already snuggled into Trip's side and likely won't be making any sort of defensive retort, Fitz turns back to May and questions, "She's doing well then?"

The older woman lets out a small hum, eyes carefully tracking the ball as it ping-pongs from one side of the court to the other, before commenting, "Not up to her usual standards. She shouldn't have dropped that game in the first set. You're distracting her."

Eyes bugging at her words, first at the reminder that perfection is a more accurate way of describing the duo's, 'usual standards,' and then at the comment that he's the reason they aren't being met, Fitz all but yelps out his defense. "I'm distr…. I just got here!"

"Exactly. When her eyes haven't been on the ball they've been on the stands looking for you."

May's brow is raised pointedly when she shifts her gaze from the court to meet his own, and Fitz finds himself gulping at the sight. Despite having gotten better at reading her, he still can't quite suss out when May is having a laugh at his expense and carefully stares at her to try and figure out whether she is now. Even if she is intentionally trying to wind him up as a joke, Fitz knows that the best lies are built on small truths, meaning that her comment is likely more accurate than not. Casting a quick glance at Jemma, Fitz feels a small flicker of nervous guilt as he worries that his absence really was a distraction, or the very least a disappointment for the woman below.

Shifting his gaze back to May, Fitz rubs at his neck and explains, "I told Daisy that we'd be cutting it too close but I asked Jem what she thought before I left and she said to go for it so I…"

Fitz's sentence is cut off by raucous cheers and the sound causes his eyes to snap from May to the court below where Jemma has just won another game. Suddenly every concern surrounding his conversation with May evaporates and his sole focus shifts to cheering as wildly as the strangers around him. Sticking his fingers in his mouth, Fitz whistles loudly in time with the surrounding applause and feels his heart thrum in his chest when, as if she can actually hear him over the thundering crowd, Jemma's eyes lock on his.

The shift is miniscule, likely unnoticed by the thousands of onlookers, but Fitz can see the excited glint in Jemma's eyes from his seat when their gazes meet. Making a show of standing up on his seat, he cups his hands around his mouth and joins in with the more boisterous members of the crowd as they shout their praises. Beaming at the sight of Jemma biting her lip to keep her own grin in check, Fitz gives her a quick wink when she shoots him a look. She pointedly turns away from him at that and Fitz laughs as both Daisy and May yank him back into his seat, the former hissing his name as she shifts her gaze to the other woman.

Swallowing, Fitz shifts his eyes over to May and is unsurprised to find her staring at him with her standard stony expression. Ducking his head like a chastised infant, Fitz mumbles apologetically, "Right, right. I know, distraction."

"No... motivator."

Eyes widening at the words, Fitz's head snaps up to find a small smirk on May's face as she jerks her head back down to the court. Glancing to where her gaze is now focused, Fitz feels his eyes widen even more when he sees that in the half minute that has gone by, Jemma's already a point up in what's looking to be the last game of the match.

Ignoring the soft snicker an accompanying, "So whipped," coming from his other side, Fitz keeps his eyes on Jemma, not wanting to miss any more of her match than he already has. It doesn't take long for her to win the next two points, smacking a pair of back-to-back aces that he's not sure anyone on the circuit could return effectively, and he finds himself quite literally sitting on the edge of his seat as she prepares for match point.

He doesn't have any real reason to be nervous considering Jemma had absolutely dominated the circuit over the past year, but Fitz knows better than anyone how quickly the tides can turn and feels his heart hammering in his chest as Jemma tosses the ball into the air.

Her serve is impeccably placed, as most are, and makes the return an easy one for Jemma to immediately parry. The crosscourt forehand that rockets off her racquet suddenly makes Fitz certain that there's no reason to worry about this match ending in anything other than another Simmons victory. Each shot Jemma hits is as precise and methodical as ever but it's also clear that she's having fun. There's a lightness to her step that can't be attributed to her hours of training and Fitz knows that the end is in sight.

Sure enough, it only takes two more shots before Jemma slams a backhand past Raina where she's waiting at the net and synches her title as one of few players to consecutively win each of the Grand Slams in the same year.

Fitz is out of his seat the second the ball bounces against the grass, whooping in excitement with the rest of the Brits packed into the stadium and feeling a bit of moisture gather in his eyes as Jemma's serious expression immediately transforms into one of unbridled joy. Glancing over at May, Fitz sees nothing but pride on the older woman's face and finds himself floored by the deep affection that she has for her player. Having spent much of time with the pair since the last Wimbledon, Fitz has grown to better understand how deep their bond truly is. Today's win is more than just Jemma's and Fitz can't help but think that no coach deserves this as much as Melinda May.

He somehow feels brave enough to reach over and squeeze her shoulder in congratulations and is admittedly shocked when she not only lets him, but also moves her own hand to give his an affectionate pat. Catching her gaze, Fitz gives her a small smile and feels as though he can conquer the world when she returns it with one of her own. It's just the faintest upturn of lips at first but it grows when her eyes flicker to the court and she jerks her head to get him to follow her gaze.

Shifting his eyes back below, Fitz immediately zeroes in on Jemma and finds that her own gaze already locked on him. The utter joy on her face spurns him into motion and, quickly moving to the edge of the barricade, Fitz briefly contemplates launching himself from the private box to the court below before thinking better of it. His stunt from last year had been in every tabloid (and a few more refutable papers) for weeks after the finals and, though he'd like nothing more than give Jemma the biggest congratulatory hug he can, Fitz has no intention of making another show for the second Wimbledon in a row.

Jemma on the other hand seems all too happy to keep their tradition going, moving with purpose in his direction, the smile on her face growing toothier with each step she takes and flooring him just as easily as it had a year ago.

Ice queen my arse.

His feels his own smile expanding as he watches her grab a chair from the sidelines without taking her eyes from him, tugging it behind her until she comes to a halt in front of the wall separating the box from the court. Shoving the chair up against the wall, Jemma clambers atop it until her head is just barely popping over the ledge. Bending down until his head is hanging over the edge to meet her halfway, Fitz grins as Jemma pushes up on her toes to land a smacking kiss to his lips.

It's quick, certainly not even close to the public display from last year, but the promise behind it causes an instant warmth to make its way through Fitz's body. When she lands back on her feet, Jemma gives him another toothy smile before casually commenting, "You're late."

Letting out a small groan, Fitz lets his head fall against the railing before lifting it again and catching Jemma's eye. Though worried when May had chastised him for his tardiness, it only takes a second for him to realize that Jemma's words are teasing in nature- the amused twinkle in her eyes making it more than obvious. With the knowledge that she isn't genuinely upset about his tardiness, Fitz feels the anxiety dissipate as he reaches down to link his fingers through Jemma's where they're resting along the banister, a challenging grin crossing his face.

"Then the next time Daisy tells me she's got a brilliant idea… don't encourage me to actually listen to her."

This causes Jemma's smile to widen and she immediately waves her free hand dismissively at his words, shrugging in the very definition of nonchalance. "It's fine. I didn't miss you all that much anyway."

Raising his brows at her teasing, Fitz happily takes the bait and continues their game, letting out a hum before fixing her with a look and saying, "Funny, because May said you couldn't keep your eyes off the stands all match... Looking for someone?"

Grinning at the immediate blush that erupts across Jemma's cheeks at his words, Fitz ducks closer to her and gives her a look. Eyes immediately shifting to focus on her mouth as she pulls her lip between her teeth, Fitz waits to see if Jemma will keep things going or raise the proverbial white flag in surrender and admit that she'd missed him. He's not surprised when she opts for the former, rolling her eyes at his question and squeezing his hand with a scoff.

"Don't flatter yourself. I was keeping my eyes on May, not on the enormous void that was your empty seat."

Letting out a skeptical snort, Fitz gives Jemma a droll look that he hopes conveys how utterly unbelievable that excuse is. "Yes, because the woman who could put the Queen's Guard to shame in terms of immobility is really someone you need to watch out for. Why on earth would you need to keep track of May?"

"Probably because I've spent the past hour holding onto this for her."

Jumping slightly at the sound of May's voice in his ear, Fitz barely has time to process her words before her hand is reaching over his shoulder and passing a small object to Jemma. It only takes a second to register just what it is that May has been safekeeping and Fitz grins as the diamond sparkles beneath the stadium spotlights. He watches as Jemma returns the ring to its rightful spot on her left hand and feels his heart stutter-stop at the warm smile that makes its way across her face once it's settled.

Though only engaged a few short weeks, with him nervously stuttering out his proposal just a fortnight before the start of Wimbledon, the sight of the engagement ring nestled between Jemma's fingers is one that seems more natural to Fitz than anything in the world. It had taken a veritable army to pick it out, all of the women in his life as well as Hunter chiming in with their opinions, and if Jemma's initial teary reaction hadn't confirmed it when he'd nervously thrust it in her direction, the look of wonder that always seems to flash across her face when her eyes glance down at her hand makes Fitz certain that he'd done a good job. The warmth that floods through him each time he catches sight of it could put the sun to shame and he still can't quite believe that in a short year he's gone from fling to fiancé.

As if she can hear his disbelief, Jemma catches his eyes and pushes herself up again to press a deep kiss to his mouth. He's dimly aware of the hoots of the crowd, a sound so familiar that it's more like white noise, but ignores them in favor of focusing only on the feeling of Jemma's lips moving against his. Though familiar, the feeling is one that he'll never get used to and, when Jemma finally pulls away, he's once again left in a stunned daze.

"Love you."

Jemma's soft words, combined with the feeling of her chilled hands (and the chilled band of her ring) against her face, make Fitz's heart swell as a beaming smile erupts across his face. Reflecting back on their year together, a myriad of memories flashing through his mind, Fitz finds that love doesn't do his feelings for Jemma justice. But now isn't the time for amateur poetry or ballads, so Fitz looks at her with as much openness as he can muster in the hopes that his real message will come across as he says, "Back 'atcha... Now go claim the most coveted trophy in the UK."

Jemma lets out a joyful laugh at that, pressing another chaste kiss against his mouth before hopping back down to the court and keeping her eyes on him as she raises her left hand with a grin and says, "Didn't you hear Fitz, Leo Fitz? I already have."