"Okay, Nadrah. Tell the boys happy birthday for me." Mack frowned, uncapping a thick black marker and exing out a square on their whiteboard calendar. "And thanks for calling." He hung up with a heavy sigh. "Well, that's not good news."

"She give a reason for cancelling?" came Fitz's voice from underneath the large magician's box. He slid out on a mechanic's creeper, screwdriver in one hand, flashlight in his mouth, and peered up at his business partner.

"It's Captain Chemistry. Apparently the guy's doing private shows now." Mack rubbed a large hand over his jaw and went back to toying with the damaged fog machine.

"Captain Chemistry?" Fitz's brow quirked in confusion. "That rubbish Tuesday-afternoon show on Local 3? The man's got to be at least 70, how's he gettin' out of bed to perform at kids' birthday parties?"

Mack grinned. "Nah, the old guy retired. This is his replacement. Supposed to be a lot better."

"That's not hard to do," Fitz muttered. "Well, I didn't really want to work Mrs. Zaghlul's party. She always requests doves. I didn't fancy having to clean bird droppings from my cape again."

"Yo, next time you want to trade, I'll do the laundry, and you can scrub the pigeon coops," Mack laughed. "Come to think of it, why do I always get stuck with that job…"

Fitz smirked, "'Cause I'm the talent."

-o-

Fitz stood in line at 3 Brothers Bakery, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if that would speed up the tea-buying process. He glanced again at his watch just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. "Yep, I'm on my way. Just grabbin' some caffeine first. Honestly, I don't know why you think my voice would be any good for radio. People hardly understand me around here as it is."

Truthfully, Mack's deep voice was probably more suited to enticing bored mothers to book their parties with Fungineers, but his friend seemed convinced that Fitz's accent would charm them. And while Mack was the clear choice if they'd been doing a TV commercial, Fitz supposed his Scottish burr might lend a bit of whimsy to their public façade.

Tea in hand at last, Fitz rushed towards the café door, eyes on his watch and his mind focused solely on racing the last two blocks to the small broadcasting building. Which was probably why he didn't see the young woman who backed into him, the collision popping the lid off his travel mug and sloshing scalding-hot tea down the front of his shirt and trousers.

"Mother- of all things…" he censored himself, head snapping up with a scowl to tell off the clumsy oaf.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, here," she stammered out, reaching for a stack of flimsy napkins and swiping ineffectively at his button-down. "Oh, dear, that's gone and made it worse." Indeed, now his tie boasted various lint-like patches of soggy, stuck-on paper, in addition to the faint yellow stain spreading across his shirt.

"No, it's fine. Don't- You don't have to-" Fitz stepped back slightly, subtly encouraging her to stop her ministrations, even as his interest piqued at the sound of her English accent. Putting an extra bit of distance between them also gave him a better vantage point from which to look her over. Good God. This woman, to put it mildly, was stunning.

Fitz's jaw seemed to have stopped working at the sight of her: wavy brown hair, pearlescent skin, striking brows tenting over gorgeous hazel eyes - very near the color of his tea before it spilled - and a plump, rosy mouth which was currently twisted into an apologetic grimace.

"At least let me buy you a new cup. Or a scone! They have the best blueberry scones here…"

"Ah, no, no thank you. Those're always sold out anyway." Stupid. Why did he have to be running late? "I've got to be going, but, really, it's fine."

Fitz hopped onto his bicycle and thanked his lucky stars he was still presentable enough for radio.

-o-

"So for all your event rentals, stage setup, and lighting displays, give us a call at Fungineers…" came Mack's honeyed bass voice.

"... and make your party problems… disappear!" Fitz was glad no one outside the booth could see the wince that accompanied his falsely-cheery voice and the "magical" wind chime sound effect that followed shortly after.

"Well, folks, you heard it first on KBUS-FM!" Their host, a greying, stringy-haired man named Dave "Mad Dog" Angar, boomed onto the air. "Book your parties with the Fungineers, and make sure you ask for The Amazing Leopold." He turned in slightly in his chair. "So, Leopold-"

"It's Fitz, actually."

"Any chance you can make my mother-in-law disappear?" Mr. Angar snickered, hitting a few buttons on his sound board - first a dog barking its head off, then a nasal woman's voice whining "Mad Dog, you need a muzzle!" in a Jersey accent. The glass-shattering sound effect and random boing that capped off the sequence only served to confuse Fitz further.

"Pardon? Are you asking me to kill somebody?"

Mack shot him an incredulous look before cutting in with a low-pitched laugh. "My partner's just messing with you, Mad Dog. Isn't that right, Fitz?"

"Oh. Eh, yeah, sure."

"But, uh, if you ever want to see him do his vanishing act, hire us for a show!" Unlike Fitz's dealing-with-the-public persona, Mack's easygoing warmth felt 100% genuine. In fact, if it weren't for him, they probably wouldn't have a business to advertise in the first place.

-o-

Between Fitz's gruffness and his sloppy appearance, it was no surprise that the producer asked Mack to stay behind and discuss a possible long-term radio spot, leaving Fitz at loose ends in the studio. After finding the bathroom and making a few half-hearted attempts to clean himself up, he wound up wandering around the building while he waited for Mack to be done.

His feet carried him towards the TV staging area, where his eyes caught on a rolling table tucked away in a side hallway. He glanced over at the variety of items , eyebrows perking in interest. So these are the props for "Science is Super", hmm? Fitz had seen the show during the tenure of the previous Captain Chemistry, a white-haired, Coke-bottle-glasses-wearing man in a sad vinyl suit and a limp cape, mumbling and droning as he mixed vinegar and baking soda. Fitz was a scientist himself, not that anyone would know that from watching him saw a volunteer "in half", but even Fitz hadn't had the patience for an entire episode of the superhero-themed science show.

This new guy, however… Fitz surveyed the table surreptitiously, a circling vulture in the throes of professional curiosity. He recognized a number of kitchen items immediately - vinegar, cola, dish soap - and scrunched his lips at an array of glass containers holding pre-measured amounts of colorful powders. Small, neatly printed labels in front of each stoppered tube indicated the contents, and Fitz leaned over to read in the dim light.

"Sound checks in five minutes on Stage 2. Sound checks for Science is Super." The sudden blare of the PA sliced through his concentration, causing Fitz to jump and spin in place, double-checking that no one was around. Unfortunately, the movement bumped him into the side of the table and knocked over the rack of tubes, scattering them haphazardly across the white nylon tablecloth. The clatter sounded enormous in his ears, and knowing that people would soon be popping up nearby, Fitz hastily shoved the ingredients back into position and scurried away before anyone started wondering about his presence.

-o-

"I can't seem to stop running into you today…"

Fitz's head jerked at the modulated tones of the unfamiliar voice, before turning awkwardly to his right. "Oh! Hello there! You're… here."

He was in the lobby of the broadcast building, still waiting on Mack, having gratefully found the coffee cart after his body reminded him he'd missed his morning caffeine.

"I am." She was smiling, the expression small but refreshing, like a brand-new sprout curling outward from a seed. The woman raised her eyebrows and shot a glance behind him. Flushing, he quickly stepped aside so she could reach the paper mugs. Of course, she wants coffee, he chastised himself. Why else would she be there?

"Thanks…" she hummed a bit as she grabbed a cup and stirrer. They stood side-by-side, ministering to their individual drinks, passing the necessary accoutrements wordlessly between them as Fitz struggled desperately to think of something clever enough to impress her.

Unfortunately, small talk had never been his strong suit, and the best he could muster was a close-mouthed smile as she took the sugar spoon from him and their fingers brushed. Fitz reached into his pocket for loose change to drop into the tip jar.

"Oh, no, let me. It's the least I could do after this morning." She put a dollar in and faced away from the table, leaning back slightly as she stirred, and Fitz found himself floundering again. Everything about her oozed self-assurance, and with his hair still windblown from the ride over to the station, tea stains dotting his shirt and tie, and dried sweat tightening his skin, Fitz felt incredibly unkempt next to her.

So perhaps he should have been relieved when Mack strode into the lobby and spotted him.

"Fitz! C'mon, man, we still gotta load the gazebos into the truck and make it to the consult for the Carters' anniversary party." Mack tossed him the keys to his van, and despite the coffee in his hand, Fitz snatched them easily out of the air.

"Well, that's… erm, I should…" Fitz flapped his arms in the general direction of the door. Smooth. "Thanks for the, er, coffee."

She nodded gracefully. "Not a problem. Perhaps you can return the favor sometime."

Fitz blinked stupidly. Was that… is she flirting? The next thing he knew, she was ambling off toward the TV side of the building, taking her leave with a small wave. She's getting away! Ask for her number! Fitz's eyes went wide, tongue tied for the third time in as many minutes, and he watched her disappear, feeling like a Ferris Wheel on the way down.

Never mind her number. He hadn't even gotten her name.

Author's Notes:

I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

I plan to post every Friday, Sunday, and Wednesday, and I have a fair chunk written already, so no worries about an unfinished WIP (Have I ever? C'mon, baby. I wouldn't do that to you.) However, I am still writing this as I update, so I may occasionally ask you to patient with me.

Many, many thanks to my beta amandajbruce, for being available at all hours, just supportive as the Dickens, and did I mention she is excellent at everything? Seriously, read Conversation Hearts.

Massive shout out to memorizingthedigitsofpi on AO3, for additional beta help, being my comedy muse in a couple of brain-blanking moments, and for creating the fantastic graphic to go with this story. Plus, An Elaborate Proof made me laugh out of my trachea. Check it out.

All the kudos to starbrightnights for the initial idea, as well as helping me do quality control on making sure I keep those British characters appropriately British! And if you haven't read Back to the Beginning, you are lucky, because that means you get to read it for the first time, and that is a wonderful gift.

Finally, mad props to thelatenightstoryteller for the inspiration of having Jemma be a kids' science show host, as seen in her fic Try This At Home, which is adorkable, just like everything else she does ever.