#leofitznet

[belloves]

AGENTS OF S.H.I.E.L.D. | S01E13 “T.R.A.C.K.S.”

[theclaravoyant]

paths crossed (Fitz x Mack)

AN ~ “Mack helps a stranded Fitz”, prompted by @agentmanatee for my @mcukinkbingo “Fitz x Mack” square. No actual smut, this time just a meetcute to enjoy! (although, if you were hoping for something smuttier, there’s plenty of prompts left to choose from!)

Relationship / Prompt: Leo Fitz x Alphonso Mackenzie Rating: G Tags: Meetcute, Fluff, Crush

Read on AO3 (~1200wd)

paths crossed

All in all, it had been a pretty average day for Mack, and the frankly miserable amount of traffic that stood between him and his next instalment of Die Hard was not making things any better, but at least he had his classic rock station… and a front row seat to some poor guy who was having an even worse day than he was.

The stranger was a sort of weedy-looking young man. He wore a checked shirt hanging open over a lightly grease-stained tank, and he was currently agonising over the contents of the bonnet of his car – a faded red number, something early-2000s and boxy. The brand plate had long since fallen off, which was always a good sign. Mack screwed up his face in sympathy as the stranger kicked emphatically at the tire and visibly regretted it.

“Oh, mate,” he chuckled, sucking air through his teeth. The stranger must have been by the side of the road for a while. It was warm out, his forehead was so sweaty his curls were starting to stick, and he gave up on cursing within a few seconds with a pantomime-scale sigh. Bracing his arms on the front of the car, he frowned into its depths – only to jump back a moment later, when something popped and black smoke bloomed up into the air.

Mack grimaced. There was nothing else for it, he knew, but to put his thoughts of kicking back with a cold beer and last night’s barbecue leftovers on hold. He indicated out of the traffic, and pulled up just in front of the broken-down car. The gratitude on the stranger’s face was all he needed to see to make it worthwhile though – especially when he pulled a bottle of water from under the dashboard. For a few seconds, it was all the poor man could do to skull it down until he ran out of breath to drink with.

Panting, the stranger finally let the precious bottle down from his lips, wiped his forehead again, and eyed the man who had come to his rescue.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “It’s been a long day.”

For a moment, Mack was struck by the unusual accent.

“Scottish?”

“Fitz,” the man replied, which served to answer well enough, as he offered a hand for the shaking.

“I like a man who keeps it short and sweet,” Mack said with a smile, shaking Fitz’s hand briefly but firmly. “You can call me Mack.”

“Short and sweet.” Fitz nodded, smiling back now. “Don’t s’pose you’ve got any jumper cables?”

Mack laughed, and nodded at the smoking junker. “I think you’re a bit beyond that, Turbo.”

“Okay,” Fitz conceded. “Got a spare engine in that trunk then?”

“Let me take a look – I’m a mechanic. There’s a servo down the road; we can probably get you what you need.”

Fitz grimaced. “Like what, a new car?”

Mack chuckled, grabbed a grease rag, and began his examination.

--

Unfortunately for Fitz, the repair job was a little more than Mack could manage on his own by the side of the road. Fortunately, he knew a guy with a tow truck who had agreed to come and meet them, so now there was nothing to do but wait. Fitz wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He hated to keep Mack from whatever he must have been heading toward when he had pulled over to help, but at the same time, something kept him from verbalising an offer for him to leave.

“It could be a while,” Mack said.

“You go on home, then,” Fitz felt like he should have responded. “I’ll wait. Thanks, you’ve been very helpful, but I can take it from here.”

Instead, he asked; “So… going anywhere special? I mean, before I interrupted?”

“Nah,” Mack assured him. “Just a night in with a movie and some leftovers. You?”

“Same, probably. What movie?”

“Die Hard. I’m up to the second one, this time ‘round.”

“Good choice. Classic. The first two are the best, though. Same for most franchises I s’pose, isn’t it?”

Gradually, the evening air started to cool around them. They sat leaning on the bonnet of Mack’s car, discussing the merits and pitfalls of all their favourite franchises, throwing pins all over the map, whether they be blockbusters or cult films or trashy personal favourites or the ones that hit hard regardless of who had heard of them. Fitz was gesticulating wildly through a rant about the reveal that Rey was related to Emperor Palpatine when the tow truck finally arrived, and his hands dropped back to his side and he let the words die in his throat, suddenly reminded of reality and the passing of time, and how much of Mack’s he had been taking up.

(Mack, for his part, felt unusually disheartened when Fitz fell silent. It was strange to think how long – or rather, how little – such a passionate presence had been in his life).

--

Crowded together, they sat in silence in the tow truck cabin. It was only a little way down the road to the mechanics’, but both were suddenly hyperconscious of how easily time had passed between them just before, and now…

Fitz tried to study himself in the window out of the corner of his eye, and adjust his hair without moving his arm too much, because he didn’t want Mack to notice that he wanted Mack to notice. Worst of all was the all-too-common struggle with his tongue, resisting the urge to add ‘and another thing-‘ or ‘you know what you should watch–‘ or ‘I’ve never met someone who gets it the way that you do.’

Meanwhile, Mack studied his own hands, trying not to think about Fitz’s and the passion they exuded. Trying not to imagine the utter relief of coming home to someone who somehow held his rhythm so easily. Fleetingly, he entertained the possibility of letting his hand fall open into the dip between their pressed-together legs. Maybe Fitz would know what that meant, maybe he would take it. Maybe, maybe -

But it was too late.

They pulled into the mechanics, and there was a moment of stagnant silence after the engine cut. Neither quite had the guts to salvage it, so instead they climbed out of their separate doors. They helped Mack’s friend haul Fitz’s car into the shop, booked it in, stuffed the contents of the car into a mismatched collection of bags they’d dredged up so it wouldn’t be trapped inside overnight. They farewelled Mack’s friend at the kerbside. And then, it was over.

(Unless..?)

Fitz hung up the payphone more reluctantly than he would have thought possible. Uncomfortable, inescapable reality was upon them.

“I called a cab,” he said. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

You can leave, if you want. He didn’t say it.

I’ll leave you to it then. Mack didn’t either.

“I’ll wait with you,” Mack said instead.

“No,” Fitz objected at last, “It’s alright – I mean, I couldn’t –“

“It’s no trouble,” Mack interrupted, and smiled. “Come on. It’s been a long day, and this place does killer sausage rolls.”

“Sounds good,” Fitz agreed. “My shout?”

[shineyma]

five seasons of: 🐒leopold ‘leo’ fitz🐒

[bobbiamorse]

soft!fitzhunter moodboard for @florchis

[asaraphale]

made a fitz video!

[leofitznetwork]

Happy New Year everyone!

And now that the holiday season has well and truly passed, hello and welcome to our new icon, an oldie but a goodie from this collection by @antoine-triplett​!

Don’t forget to share your Fitz-centric fic, edits, graphics, videos, playlists, and anything else you could think to create with us - no membership required, just tag #leofitznetwork or #leofitznet, or message us a link!

[shirilily]

Title: Can you help me? (I'm scared I'll never get put back together)

[AO3]

Square Filled: Spooning

Ship: Bobbi Morse/Lance Hunter/Leo Fitz

Rating: G

Tags: post Framework trauma, canon divergence, h/c, cuddling. 

Summary: After being pulled out of the Framework and in dire need of some comfort, Fitz decides to go in search of his partners, Bobbi and Hunter.

Word Count: 1498w

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Sneak-Peak:

After asking for them, he panicked more than once, thinking that he was putting them at risk just out of a selfish need, but when they sent May the coordinates of where to drop him, they added a small message addressed to him: If we said you could reach out whenever you needed, we meant it. Stop freaking out over this. He is still not fully convinced it was the smartest idea, but it definitely was exactly what he needed.

“I’m sorry.” He cries against Hunter’s chest and takes Bobbi’s hands to his mouth to press his lips against her knuckles. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand being there without you.”

Here are my card and my masterpost. I’m accepting prompts for it and also for my MCU Bingo Card.

[unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot]

Idk if you are accepting prompts/requests, but since Pride Fitz is coming upon us, would you be inclined to write anything featuring Fitz in a qpr with Hunter and/or Bobbi? Fic, headcanon, bullet fic, whatever you like!

Happy first day of Pride Month!!!!! Here you go:

Untitled Queerplatonic FitzHuntingbird Fic

Fitz has never really understood the concept of friendship and the rules surrounding it, so it’s no wonder that all his friendships turn into something more. It was Simmons who gave him the word for it at the Academy. Queerplatonic. She knows about it because of her aromanticism. He likes the word. He likes having a label.

He doesn’t really know when his friendship with Bobbi and Hunter turns from just friendship to queerplatonic (again, the whole concept of friends vs. other relationships is very confusing), but at some point he recognizes that it has done so.

He goes back and forth, arguing with himself over whether to bring up the label with them. He thinks Bobbi might know what it means, because she’s been discovering that she’s aromantic as well, but he’s not sure if Hunter would.

~*~*~*~

One night, he and Hunter are up late. They’ve had a couple beers and they’re sitting on the couch in the common room watching a documentary on ‘The Mystery Monkeys of Shangri-La’ Hunter had recorded for him. The documentary finishes and Fitz rests his head against Hunter’s shoulder. “I love you,” he tells him, staring at the television screen as the credits scroll past.

“I love you too,” Hunter replies after a short pause.

Fitz tugs on his lip as he ponders the pause. “Not in a sexual way,” he clarifies after thinking it through. “In a queerplatonic way.”

“And I love you in a queerplatonic way,” Hunter says. “I paused ‘cause I was trying to decide if I should make a Star Wars reference or not.”

Fitz lets out a soft laugh as he understands what Hunter is getting at. “Save that for Bobbi,” he advises.

“Oh, we’ve been there, done that,” Hunter tells him.

“TMI,” Fitz says as he gets up.

Hunter stands as well and pulls Fitz into a hug, kissing his cheek. “Goodnight, love.”

“Night.”

~*~*~*~

He never does bring it up with Bobbi. They both just sort of understand without needing to talk about it. It’s obvious in the way they bicker and squabble like siblings, in the way he goes to her for advice, and she comes to him for comfort, in the casual touches they share, and the way their brains just seem to connect.

Fitz enjoys spending time with Bobbi and Hunter separately. He and Hunter argue about football, and Hunter finds that he’s actually interested in the nature documentaries Fitz enjoys, so they have good discussions about those. Fitz likes working out with Bobbi, learning basic self defense skills he’d always been too anxious to learn from May. He likes spending time with her in the lab.

Most of all, he likes it when the three of them spend time together. He likes it when they make meals together and Bobbi and Hunter bicker about the best way to cook mushrooms. He likes it when they cuddle together, and when they play board games together, and he’d even enjoyed that one time when they’d each gotten tipsy and Bobbi convinced them to re-enact Star Wars scenes with her. Bobbi had been Leia, Fitz had been Luke, and Hunter was Han. She’d even somehow managed to charm Mack into playing Chewbacca. He thinks Daisy has video of it somewhere ready to use as blackmail material should the need ever arise.

He never really thinks about how their relationship looks to others. He doesn’t really care about that. He’s happy, and Bobbi and Hunter are happy, and that’s all that matters.