procrastinating by googling for pictures of William Christopher in pre-M*A*S*H roles (in gomer pyle and hogan’s heroes) and i think my brain is going to short-circuit. look at this small infant. (i need to actually watch that hogan’s heroes episode later so i can hear what his comical german accent sounds like.)
So…. I wrote a thing. It was bouncing around in my head and I kept jotting notes down during work today and then… This happened. I don’t have an account on AO3 yet so just posting it here for now… I haven’t written fanfiction in at least seven years and this one goes on FOREVER, way too long for a Tumblr post really, and no one proofread it for me and it’s surprisingly hard to write Fitz because I can’t hear his accent in my head… Anyway, hope there’s something in here worth reading. :) Pure fluff btw.
Summary: Jemma wants to try something with Fitz - and no, it’s not what you think. :)
It had been weeks since the last report of a new Inhuman, weeks without Hydra attacks or vigilante kidnappings or governmental meddling. The counters in the medical bay were showing dust for the first time that anyone could remember. The team knew the calm couldn’t last, but as far as Coulson could gather from his remaining network of contacts, there was no reason to believe that the lull was anything but coincidental.
A fragile, blissful stillness, like that of Christmas morning, cloaked the Playground. May and Coulson still haunted the gym and Coulson’s office, sometimes together, sometimes in brittle silent isolation, but the hallways were empty, the younger agents having retreated to their bunks, afraid to breathe for fear this calm would end.
Jemma and Fitz lay tangled together in Fitz’s room, (or was it Jemma’s? They could hardly remember anymore), fully clothed, Jemma’s head resting on Fitz’s chest and a hand moving idly across his stomach. Fitz gazed up at the ceiling as his own hand, the one whose cramps and shaking normally betrayed his anxiety, rested between Jemma’s shoulder blades.