Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of Shield

For his eighth birthday Fitz got a truck. The wrapping was sloppy, with parts of the wheels poking through, and the wrapping paper was covered with snowflakes and snowmen. When his mum gave it to him before breakfast, it was with an apologetic smile and a hair ruffle.

The truck wasn't new, he could tell, and the front right wheel was about to come off. But it was red like he had wanted, and his mum was looking at him, all anxious, and he beamed at her just to see the expression melt away.

When his father stumbled into the kitchen he saw Fitz with his new fire truck and stopped. He stared at the truck in surprise and then glanced at Fitz's mum to confirm. To his credit his father recovered quickly, leading a half-hearted round of happy birthday.

Fitz knew his father had forgotten his birthday, he wasn't stupid, but he didn't mind because his father was asking if he wanted to go to the park after school and his mum was making pancakes and he was finally, finally eight.

That night, when he couldn't sleep because there was fits of shouting (his father) and screeching (his mum) from the bedroom next to his, he focussed solely on his fire truck. He had managed to sneak a screwdriver into his room and he was certain he could fix it, if he could just take it apart. Make it better even.

He didn't get much sleep that night, but the fire truck was no longer broken.

Simmons woke up on her eighth birthday to a chorus of happy birthday. Her younger brother leaped onto her bed and enthusiastically helped her unwrap the presents. Her daddy was holding a video camera which he shoved in her face each time she held each new present to forever capture the exact look of wonder on her face.

She doesn't need to fake it, like she did last year when Aunty Emily gave her a book she'd already read. Her mum had whispered smile through clenched teeth and pushed Simmons forward to thank her Aunt. Simmons had put on her widest, most brilliant smile and thought she was doing so well until her brother had laughed hysterically when she passed saying she looked like a clown.

She got that new chemistry set like she wanted, and some new hair ties, and multi-coloured pens and a new book. Her daddy said she could have whatever she wanted on her waffles even though they all knew it would end up in an explosion of chocolate and sprinkles as she experimented to find the perfect topping.

Later, she sat up until way past her bedtime, reading, until her mum came to tuck her in and wished her the very best of birthdays.

By the time they'd reached his ninth birthday, Fitz hadn't seen his father for 2 months, 10 days and approximately 8 hours and 57 minutes. He'd been counting. His father left two weeks before Christmas. There had been yelling, frantic packing and a bang of the door. Fitz had covered his ears and recited the 16 times tables loudly to himself. He lost count around 16 x 54 but by then it was silent anyway.

Christmas had been cancelled.

But today was his birthday. And his father would come back for that, right? He was sitting at the table eating cereal in silence with his mother. All he could hear was the clock ticking.

Fitz stared at the door. If he wished hard enough, if he wanted it enough he could probably make his father appear there. Shutting his eyes tight he ignored his cereal dripping off his spoon and the sound of his mother getting up. If he kept his eyes close, if Fitz pictured him in doorway well enough, he could fix this. His father would be back for his birthday.

'Leo?' He opened his eyes. His father wasn't there. The doorway remained empty.

Instead he saw his mother holding out his present.

'Happy birthday.'

As he hugged her as tightly as he could manage she smiled for the first time in 2 months, 10 days and approximately 9 hours and 3 minutes.

He always was more of a believer in the facts anyway.

Simmons' ninth birthday was a Thursday. For the first nine years of her life this would have meant nothing to her. One of the many advantages of being home-schooled was that you, your mum and your brother could spontaneously take the day off and just make up the work a different day.

Unfortunately, ever since her mother had decided that Simmons' constant curiosity and ever-growing knowledge was too much for her too handle, Thursdays meant something different.

School.

It wasn't that Simmons disliked school exactly. She liked the teachers, the lessons, the equipment and she loved the homework. It was just that when all the kids were two or three years older than her it was difficult to be inconspicuous.

They called her Al. As in Albert. As in Einstein. And it wasn't like she minded; it's just that that wasn't her name.

Simmons heard her mum calling and briefly entertained the idea of pretending to be ill. But that would mean missing Biology, and they were supposed to be doing anti biotic factors which she really didn't want to miss.

She made her way downstairs and her family gathered around her, immediately starting to belt out Happy Birthday. Her daddy showed her the cupcakes he'd made for her to take to school, in the style of the periodic table and Simmons grinned.

Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

It was unfortunate that the letter came the same day as Fitz's twelfth birthday. He had thought the teacher had been joking when he said that a letter would be sent home for something as trivial as being caught in a lab at lunch time, but obviously not.

He was waiting for the bacon to finish whilst his mum worked on the eggs when there was the familiar clang of the letterbox. And there it was, right on top of the pile.

His mum started to open it and Fitz tried to choke out an explanation, but then settled for staring at the bacon.

'Oh, Leo.' Fitz could see the tears in her eyes and snatched the letter out of her hand.

It can't have been that bad, surely. He was just messing about with a split ring commutator. What if he was expelled? What if they had to move? What was his mum going to think – getting kicked out at barely twelve years old?

He stared at the piece of paper. Phrases like 'excellent scientist', 'top of the class', 'summer programmes' and 'bright future' jumped out at him. He turned around and his mum hugged him hard.

'I'm so proud of you.' She whispered in his ear.

The bacon burnt.

Simmons had decided that she wanted to make her own birthday cake. She was turning twelve and it was about time she learnt to do this sort of thing for herself. She had decided on lemon, because that was more grown-up than chocolate, and the recipe looked easier.

Then she found out the baking wasn't exactly like chemistry. Less room for experimentation, it appeared.

It was ridiculous. Why couldn't you add more sugar than strictly necessary? Surely that would just make it sweeter? And when all your sugar ran out, why couldn't you just compensate with more flour and a pinch of syrup? It was baffling.

After four failed attempts, several close calls with the fire alarm and refusing help no less than seven times, Simmons had her cake.

So what if she had to cut off the crusts? Or that it was sunken in the middle? And now that she thought about it, maybe that colour wasn't quite right…

With her family sitting down, including her grandmother who had made the trip from Yorkshire, Simmons put the cake on the table and collapsed into her chair. She glared defiantly at everyone, daring them to say something.

'Make a wish, Jems.' her mother told her lighting the candles.

On Fitz's fifteenth birthday, his mother went overboard. He'd been taking extra classes, and skipping years and she was terrified that next year he would be at university, unable to spend his birthday with her.

Waking him up far earlier than should be allowed, they made the trip down to London to go to the Science Museum. They wandered around the exhibits and Fitz tried to explain some of them to his mum, but gave up when she asked him to remind her on what exactly an electron was.

They had a video about the first chimpanzee sent into space, which Fitz watched a total of four times. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head.

'If I just could get a monkey…'

Exhausted they went to a hotel that Fitz's mum had booked and when telling her goodnight he thanked for the best birthday he'd ever had. She had just smiled.

Simmons' fifteenth birthday came as somewhat of a surprise. She'd been so busy lately with university applications, and science fairs and watching old episodes of Doctor Who, that she hadn't realised time was going so quickly.

It wasn't until her younger brother asked her what she wanted that she remembered.

She spent the day doing things she hadn't done in a while. Like taking a long walk with her mum to discuss books. And building a fort with her brother, finding the perfect structure needed for it to stay upright. Simmons watched her daddy make his famous brownies, whilst covering every surface with sugar, and letting her lick the spoon.

For her birthday, Simmons slowed down. Who knew when she would be able to do all these things again?

On his seventeenth birthday, Fitz met Simmons.

A/N: This was written trying to put off revising for a geography exam. Which I now have to do, darn it. I love agents of SHIELD, especially the Fitzsimmons scenes. Just a quick comment about the time a train takes from Scotland to London, I'm estimating about 6 hours, which puts them there around lunch time. I also went back and forth on whether to call them Fitz and Simmons or Leo and Jemma but eventually decided on this.

So, if you like it, hate it, think they're too smart or too dumb, if you think its too over-dramatic or don't know why I spent 200 words on Simmons baking a cake, if you think it would be better if... Let me know in the reviews.

This is meant to be in past tense but if there's a slip up I'm really sorry.