French Cuisine

June 20, 2015:

Felicity and Fitz have dinner at a French bistro, only to learn they're both the recipients of an intriguing e-mail.


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Saturday nights are typical date nights. And while Felicity and Fitz's dates have mostly been incredibly atypical, they can at least attempt to have a normal date. As such, dinner reservations have been made. It's one of those semi-fancy French restaurants that are nice but not heinously expensive.

Felicity has used the occasion to dress up, wearing a nice blue silky dress, her hair pulled up into a French twist. Her glasses remain at home. Despite her enthusiasm at seeing Fitz that evening, she's been oddly distracted. At the moment she's studying her martini glass as if she's worried someone has poisoned it, brow furrowed, head tilted just slightly.


Fitz returns from the men's room, eyeing the tall glass of beer on his table as he returns. He's taken a fancy to wearing blazers lately, at least on the rare occasion that it's cool enough to do so. He's even left any sort of tie at home, going for that new style that blends business professional with a no-tie, no-fucks-given subtext.

"Hey, you awright?" asks the Scot after reclaiming his seat. "Seriously, this isn't a Bond flick. I don't think it's been poisoned. If it has, I do carry an epi-pen sometimes."

His hand twitches. As if he were about to rustle through the blazer's pockets.


As Fitz returns, Felicity starts a bit, shaking her head. "What? Poison?" The blonde woman stares at her drink startled for a moment and then blinks a few times. "No, that's not…" she waves a hand and shakes her head. "I'm fine." Though usually a terrible liar, this almost sounds convincing. "There was just…I got…you know what? Nevermind. Sorry." Carefully, she plucks up the martini glass by the stem and takes a long drink of it as if to prove to both him and herself she's fine.

"You carry an epi-pen?" she asks after a moment. That part of his statement took a little bit of a moment to sink in, plus it's a good "Are you that allergic to something?"


"It's Simmons' fault," explains Fitz. "I mean, you never know what might happen in the field. We come across weird stuff." He reaches for his beer next, lifting it to take a drink, but he pauses. A grin forms. "You look splendid, Felicity." He offers his glass. "To a normal night with no weird stuff."

After taking his drink, he sets the beer down and studies her carefully. "You sure you don't want to talk about this, uh, this whatever you, uh, 'got'?"


"You're trying to say that Simmons might make you allergic to something?" Felicity gives Fitz a raised eyebrow and a genuine smile at the thought. Then, she blushes a bit. "Thank you, you do, too." At the toast, she clinks her glass gently against his and then takes another drink. "It's nice to just get out and have an evening, you know? As opposed to getting robbed or kicked out of a movie theatre. I mean, we could always do that, later!"

At the studying, she smiles and shrugs her shoulders. "I, uh, I just got this really weird email the other day that I've been looking into. And the stuff I've been finding has really wigged me out. But, it's really not normal date night talk."


Fitz laughs heartily. "No, I think I'd like to stay out of trouble tonight! Be a nice change of pace." He's taking another drink when he nearly snarfs the damn thing. "Wot? No, I'm not allergic to Simmons! But she's bio-chem. Always playing around with some kind of compound. You never know."

Mention of an e-mail has Fitz furrowing his brow, but the sever's arrival distracts him. "Oh. Uh, what do you get at a French restaurant? I, uh, actually haven't ever been to one."


Being able to make Fitz snort into his beer makes Felicity smile into hers. "Well, I think it's a good thing to be prepared. You're right, you never know if some newly discovered matter might trigger an allergy." She's not teasing him, she's being serious. "I'd hate to have to stop liking Simmons because she killed you with some newly discovered space pollen."

When the server appears, she smiles and then grins at Fitz. "Well, my mom would sometimes work a double at a few of the French restaurants back in Vegas. She told me that if you can afford it, go for the steaks." Her mom tried to have expensive tastes when she could. "But, I think I'm going to have the fish." Because, as usual, she has to be contrary to her mother's wishes.


"Believe me, space pollen is a very real danger."

Taking Felicity's advice, Fitz orders a steak, but sadly, he orders it medium well. Dead things don't sit well with him, after all. He orders it au jus with a nice horseradish glaze, and a salad. Then, he nurses his drink again, before the internal thoughts bubble over. "I got a funny email, too," he says. "And it came to my personal email address, not my SHIELD one," he remarks. "So, I can talk about it without breaking any rules. Something about a strange sort of energy."


"You don't have to tell me twice," Felicity tells Fitz with a grin, setting her martini back down on the table. "I mean, I went to make a call in Battery Park once and met some guy who said he was some form of God, but I'm pretty sure he was trying got summon up an Old God. I totally believe space pollen is a thing."

Once the menus and orders are taken, she folds her arms on the table, looking back at Fitz with a smile before her eyes go a bit wider. "Wait. You don't—-" Curiously, she looks around the restaurant before leaning in to keep her voice very soft. "Was that energy Bio E?"


"… No way." Fitz also glances around, as if someone were spying on them. "Yeah, that's the stuff. Bio-Etheric. Simmons and I- well, that's classified. But, I wonder, since you got the email, Icould probably have it declassified. I'll have to check with Agent M- with my S.O. But!" He glances around again, eyebrows rising wide. "I wonder who else got it, and why? I mean, if someone knows Simmons and I, that makes sense, but even that is concerning in its own right."


As Fitz leans in, Felicity's eyebrows rise ever hire. A hand darts out to take his. "You got the email, too? What are the chances of that? I mean, you I get. You work for a super secret organization that may or may not mind wipe people. I haven't been involved with—" she stops abruptly, glancing downward as she attempts to hide her stumble, "I've, uh, haven't, I mean, you know, I haven't done anything that might, you know. I don't know why they'd send it to me." They're both very bad at covering their tracks, it seems. At the thought, she thinks for a moment. "It went to your personal address? Huh. That's interesting."


Squeezing her hand, Fitz's expression is a myriad of contemplation. So much so that he might have overlooked her stammering response. Maybe.

"I don't - wait a minute. You… do you know why you got the email? I mean, you haven't… have you gotten involved in something? You can tell me, Liss, I'm not carrying a Flashy Thing."

Suddenly, the idea of eating a nice, delicious, expensive steak doesn't seem nearly as interesting as his lab.


The question causes Felicity to blush a bit, her eyesstill focused on holding his hand. It's not an uncommon thing at a romantic restaurant for couples to hold hands. This is a little different. There's a silence and she looks a bit miserable as she says, "Maybe?" Then, quickly adding. "I mean, know why someone might have sent that email to me." She pulls her hand from his and puts it on her face, unable to look at him. "I haven'tIt's notI'm not involved with anything. Not any more. It's…that's…it was back in college."

It seems like the idea of telling this story in the middle of a restaurant doesn't really appeal to her, either.


Biting his lip, Leo watches the change in her expression, and quickly seems apologetic. "Okay. No. We're on a date, we don't need to talk about this tonight. We… don't even need to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. At least, not the particulars of… how and when the… never mind." He smiles warmly. "Not tonight. Tonight, I'd like to eat some steak, go on a nice walk, and find a nice place for a bit of snogging. Snogging is nice, right? You're good at it. Uh, I didn't say that out loud."


"I did, though, didn't I?"


The hand pulls away from Felicity's face slowly and she gives a relieved look to Fitz. "Thank you." Once again, she reaches out to take his hand. "And sorry. I start talking about how it's nice to have a normal date and then completely ruin that." Her smile is a bit lopsided, but it's genuine. "We'll…we'll talk about it another time." Or maybe not. Maybe he'll forget about it and she'll never bring it up again! An unlikely thought if they're both involved with this Bio-E strangeness; how she's conducting her research is eventually going to come up.

Taking a deep breath she takes another long drink of her martini and then smiles warmly at Fitz. "You did. But, I don't mind hearing it. You're not so bad yourself." The talk of Bio-E and how anyone might find her to put to the side for now has relaxed her just a bit. "So, I think you're plan for the evening is a perfect one."


That lopsided grin draws a sparkle to Leo's eye. "Hey, life would be boring if we weren't fascinating people, right?" He squeezes her hand for a moment, but then the good begins to arrive! And it's fancy as hell. Leo's steak is small, which is usually a good sign. It's garnishments are like a work of art, and the salad is a plain, shredded kale with a lemon spritz and parmesean. "Oy," he remarks. "I'm almost afraid to touch it. It looks so perfect."


Felicity gives a soft laugh. "It would be, wouldn't it? Though, we'd have more time for French dinners and make out sessions." As she says make out sessions, the waiter arrives, giving her a bit of a raised eyebrow as he catches the end of her sentence. Pulling her hand back from Fitz, she blushes again, giving him an embarrassed smile. "You could take a picture of it and put it on Instagram. I think that's what people do with perfect meals." She looks around, saying softer, "Though, I've got a feeling they'd look down on that here. French."


Timing, Felicity! Leo blushes fiercely, and offers a grin to the server. "Uh, she meant, make up sessions. We're NYU students. From, uh, wealthy families."

Another wince.

"I am not going to do that," Fitz answers. "That's one of the most obnoxious trends that exists. It's, like, right up there with hashtag-yolo. Hashtag anything, really, unless it's something related to the Doctor or Spock." He sighs, wistfully. "I miss Nimoy."

Then, the scientist reaches for his fork, winking. "Let's destroy these masterpieces, oui?"


"Yes. Exactly. We're practically Vanderbilts. I'm a, uh, Vanderhoots. Their Danish cousins." Felicity tries to explain away her verbal faux pas. As many times as she gets herself into these scrapes, she should be better at digging herself out of them, but that has yet to happen.

"I was teasing. And don't get me started on the hashtagging." Then, she gives a laugh. "Is it weird that we just pretended to by NYU students and then started talking like grandparents who hate Instagram and Yolo? Maybe that should be the new trend. Though, I guess that's really just kind of being like a Hipster Luddite."

Picking up her own fork, she beams at Fitz. "Oui!"

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