━━ 𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋 🥽
❝ and i'm pretty sure,
that every minute of
every day, you've
been stuck in the lab
right beside me! ❞
𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 clara roy
and leopold fitz are
more than just best friends
𝐎�...
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✧·ﾟ:CHAPTER SIX*:·ﾟ✧
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✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* fzzt *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ date: 24th October 2013 location: the Bus, classified
(please read a/n at the end, thank u!)
━━Ward cocked the Night-Night Pistol. Fitz awkwardly stood beside him, awaiting his response with Simmons looking on. Sitting in the back of the lab, Skye watched on, curious. Her band dangled around her wrist, a constant reminder of her mistakes. Ward tossed the gun between his hands, testing the weight before quickly holding it up, aiming it towards the doors. Where in the Cargo hold, Roy was doing a medical assessment of Coulson, holding her tablet and eyeing him on the treadmill.
Narrowing his gaze, Ward pursed his lips before finally setting it down on the table, "Sorry, Fitz. It's close, but it's just not right."
Fitz's face fell, as did Simmons, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Really?" he asked him. "'Cause Agent Coulson had no problems."
"It's an ounce too heavy," said Ward, and Simmons scoffed.
"An ounce?" Skye spun the chair from the computer around to stare at her S.O in disbelief. Fitz picked up the gun, checking the weight himself with a disappointed frown. "Seriously?"
"It's the difference between success and failure," Ward told her, his tongue laced with a stubborn venom over her betrayal. She had apologised, meant well━she had done her rounds to all of them━but Ward hadn't forgiven her. He still looked at her with his nostrils flaring in anger. "When you're on a rooftop with a fifteen mile-an-hour wind, your target is five-hundred yards away━"
"Yeah, but we do have a rifle," Fitz glanced at him, and Ward's face deadpanned.
"Lose the ounce," he said, and Fitz swallowed hard, intimidated.
"Yeah, okay," he held the gun close to his chest. "On it." As soon as Ward left, Fitz turned to Simmons with a scoff of his own. "Lose the ounce━" holding out the gun, he put on his best gruff American accent: "'I'm Agent Grant Ward, and I can shoot the legs off a flea from five-hundred yards, as long as it's not windy'."
Simmons and Skye let out laughs. Hearing Skye's laugh, Fitz quickly turned around, happy and giddy he was the cause of it. Simmons rolled her eyes with a sigh, of course. "Hey," he quickly set the gun down and propped his hands on his hips, "that's a sound I havent heard in a bit."
Skye tilted her head, "Yeah, well, you wouldn't be laughing a whole lot if you were living in Ward's doghouse." She leaned back on her chair (well, Fitz's chair).
