Detour chapter 1/10
Rated E, 3,6k words
Summary: Tired of recovery from his brain trauma not going fast enough, Fitz decides to take an extended leave of vacation from SHIELD to go home and see his mother. But when it turns out that spending all his days with his mother doesn’t really help either, he goes for a drive and his car ends up breaking down next to the cutest coffee shop and guest house in Perthshire. So he thinks maybe a change of scenery would do him some good and it only has a little to do with the muffin baking angel of a woman managing the place.
Set around the beginning of season two except Jemma didn’t join SHIELD.
Beta’d by the wonderful @libbyweasley who made this so much nicer to read for you :)
This story was started last summer and I finally managed to get back to working on it, hope you’ll enjoy it :) Rated E for eventual smut but not it’s not a smut heavy fic.
Ten chapters planned, six already written. Updates about once a week :) And now, I’ll be reasonable and not start another long fic before I have finished writing the three I’ve started posting recently :D
Driving was nice. Ironically, it had been one of the only skills that came back easily after the accident (if such a word really applied.) It was strange because it had never been especially important to him before, merely a practical way to go from one place to another. But it was a good thing because being coddled and cared for by his mother like the toddler he had barely ever been anyway (after all he’d started fixing appliances in the house before he was old enough to go to school), was something he wasn’t good at. Of course, he should have known from the start that it wouldn’t work.
After months of encouraging words and helpful gestures from his friends and co-workers mixed with looks of pity that seemed to mean that they didn’t truly believe he’d ever be the same again, he’d snapped. He had decided to use whatever sick days and vacation days he had left, if it even meant anything now anyway, packed his laptop and whatever clothes he could find, and left for the airport. Once there, he’d taken the first flight home he could find, not even caring about how insanely expensive it was. The first week at his mum’s house had been nice. The small country house just outside of Glasgow had given him the peace and quiet he felt like he needed and, at first, his mum had been surprisingly respectful of his will not to talk and be alone. But being the loving mother that she was, she had soon started to try and help him, insisting on talking a lot to improve his speech, and asking him to fix things he knew she’d broken on purpose. And that was when he realized the mistake he had made. He could never be left alone in his mother’s house, she would always take care of him and look at him worryingly, and that wasn’t what he needed at the moment. So he had just ended up feeling like an ungrateful little shite for wanting to snap at her all the time. Because surely, if there was one thing he hadn’t lost in the accident, it was his bad temper. If anything, being frustrated all the time had only made it worse.
So he’d started driving around aimlessly every time he was on the verge of snapping again, and it felt good. Because when he did, he was in complete control, his hand didn’t shake as much, and he didn’t have to talk, just focus on turning the wheel and stepping on the pedals when needed. Maybe it was also because he’d bought that ugly little car for next to nothing and fixed it himself, giving him a sense of accomplishment for the first time in months, however small it was for someone who’d already designed planes. So earlier that day, when his mum had driven him to his wits’ ends by insisting he eat more (like having more soup really was the secret to fixing brain damage!), he’d grabbed his wallet and phone and hopped in his car. At first, he had vaguely followed the road leading to town, but when he realized he really didn’t want to have to deal with traffic, he’d just started taking any road that was small enough to be mostly deserted, the signs becoming a blur on the side of the road as he passed them at full speed. With his brain hashing out all the same memories and frustrations and things he wished he’d done differently over and over again, time passed quickly, so quickly that he didn’t even notice the landscape changing around him. That was, until the car started sputtering before slowly coming to a full stop as he, fortunately, still had the reflex to pull to the side of the road. In retrospect, maybe he should have given that blinking light on the dashboard the attention it deserved.