raise your hand if your fav character was eaten-slash-absorbed by some freaky-ass alien statue tonight and if you would have rather seen said character’s otp sharing breadsticks at olive garden whilst nerding over science, biatch.
Jemma and Daisy discuss Jemma and Fitz, and the way Fitz has been handling life since Maveth. One shot. Angst/Fluff. Rated PG.
Jemma stares blankly down at the desk in front of her. The lab is mostly quiet, except for the sound of her breathing and her foot tapping on the concrete. Her nose itches, but she ignores it. Her feet are becoming sore, but she doesn’t care. The lights in the lab seem to be dimming, but this is only because she’s been staring at one spot for so long that everything else is fading away.
She closes her eyes. His lips crash with hers, his fingertips denting the skin at her waist and neck. His weight shifts forward, and hers shifts back. As soon as it begins it ends. The ghost of his kiss hovers, and she misses the sensation immediately. So she gives back, kissing him again. Breathing him in. Savoring every second. Time slows down, and she memorizes the way he feels against her. The taste of his lips. The strength of his arms. The warmth of his skin, his breath, his body.
“Hey, Simmons.” Jemma jumps, turning around to see Daisy leaning on the desk next to her. She’s almost certainly turning every shade of red and she tries to cover her cheeks so it isn’t visible. “Sorry I…” Daisy blinks, noticing the blush “Uhh.. didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s alright.” Jemma uncomfortably folds her hands behind her back and subtly sways. “What can I do for you?“
Daisy widens her eyes and slides her hands in the pockets of her jeans. A nearly invisible shrug rolls off of her shoulders. “Oh nothing, I was just…” she points to the hallway outside the lab “I mean I was just walking and saw you in here. You looked a little lost. Are you… Okay?”
Jemma’s eyes dart around the room, eventually landing on the floor. The question causes her whole body to close up, and she crosses her arms in front of her, ready to sink, or run and hide. She’s tried to avoid answering that question. Possibly because she doesn’t feel like she’s grieving as she should. The man she loved died, and she’s mostly concerned with her own guilt about the inhumans, or guilt about leaving him behind in the first place.
Or Fitz. She’s always thinking about Fitz.
When she thought about Will, she thought about how she left him there to die alone. She left his body to be inhabited by a parasite. She left him to be eaten alive, while she made it home to Fitz. He loved her enough to die for her when she apparantly only loved him enough to leave him behind.
So she tries not to think about him. And then she feels guilty about that.
“I’m surviving.” she tries to make eye contact, succeeding for only a second before her eyes are drawn toward the blonde scientist at the window conveniently passing by. “It’s Fitz I’m worried about.”
Daisy leans forward into the conversation.
“He’s been having nightmares about the planet.” Jemma continues. “Similar to the ones I had, but… different. Unique to his experience. He hasn’t shared much, though I have tried to piece together what I’ve heard him shouting at night.“
“What does he say?” Daisy squints.
“Mostly…” Jemma composes herself. “He says things like “We have to go!!” or “We’re running out of time!!”
“Oh.” Daisy visibly relaxes, crossing her arms in front of her, but letting her shoulders fall with an exhale. “That doesn’t seem too bad.“
Jemma finally manages to hold Daisy’s gaze, though now more than ever she wants to look away. "That’s not the worst of it.” she says, quieting down when she notices Fitz pass by the lab in the hallway again. “The most disturbing thing is what he mutters in his sleep.” she breaks eye contact again to scan the room, unsure what she’s looking for. “‘You’re not Will.’… Over and over again that same sentence. I know what happened but… The fact that he saw it, that he lived it, terrifies me beyond words. I saw that.. that thing from a distance, only shortly. He walked with it… spoke to it…. fought with it.”
“And killed it.” Daisy adds, trying to remind Jemma of the triumph, of the fact that it’s over. Jemma just shakes her head.
“I wish he’d never had to.” she says, biting her lip.
“Hey” Daisy reaches for Jemma’s arm and touches her softly “He’ll be okay, Simmons. It’s over.”
Jemma looks at her and smiles, more for Daisy’s benefit than her own. “I know.” she says softly.
Daisy stays silent for a moment, trying to encourage Jemma as best as she can, but her curiosity dances around her after only a moment, putting together something Jemma had said. “Wait a second…” she lets go of Jemma’s shoulder, letting her hand hover. “He mutters in his…. How do you know he’s been muttering in his sleep?! Have you been sleeping with him?!” She tries to keep her excitement a secret, but it glows on her expression like headlights.
“Not like that.” Jemma smirks, remprimanding Daisy with her eyes.
“Oh.. I’m so sorry that was… incredibly inappropriate.” Daisy covers her mouth with the hand she took from Jemma’s shoulder. Now she’s turning colors.
“It’s alright.” Jemma laughs. “I’ve just been… comforting him. He sleeps better when I’m there. He doesn’t sleep at all when I’m not.”
“If you don’t mind me asking… How did that happen, exactly?"
Jemma laughs again, trying to ignore her iniquity. Blushing at the question and reaching to scratch her arm and expose her discomfort. "I went to calm him down when I heard him yelling. He asked me to stay."
Daisy looks like she’s just finished reading Jane Austen. She attempts to neglect the urge to grab at her heart and gawk about the moment. It isn’t nearly as romantic as it is tragic, but she can’t help the feeling.
"I wish he would have done the same when I had come back.” Jemma continues, grunting, “But I couldn’t find the courage to ask. And of course he would have never shared a bed with me without making it absolute certain he had my permission.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s sweet, but.. irritating sometimes.”
A memory creeps up on her.
She’s standing next to Fitz’s bed and he’s trying to fall back asleep, but she can see him, lying on his side, facing away from her, nearly hyperventilating.
She doesn’t say anything, but she watches him carefully. She wants to ensure that he calm down and doze off, but his breathing remains the same. She sits in the chair beside his bed, keeping her eyes locked on him. Her face becomes cold, dampened by gentle tears that she couldn’t manage to hold back. She tries to keep quiet, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. His breathing is deafening. She hears a sharp exhale before he startles her by speaking.
“Jemma” he says, barely above a whisper. All she can see is his back. His sweat soaked t-shirt. His shivering arms. “Could you…” he takes a breath. “I mean would you be willling to…”
Jemma doesn’t hesitate. She pushes back the comforter and slides herself beneath it. She imagined him to be warm, inviting, and soft. And perhaps he would have been if the circumstances were different. She almost falls apart when she touches her hand to his side and can’t feel even the body heat he’s meant to have naturally.
But at her touch, he takes a breath, and it’s nothing sharp or hurried or rough. It’s a natural breath, relaxed, and relieved, as if he’s been holding himself beneath water and has finally come up for air.
The dam breaks, and everything Jemma had been holding back falls out of her, weeping, grasping his shirt and pulling herself closer to him. ‘I did this to you’ she thinks. ‘I made you like this.’ ‘This is my fault.’
Fitz rolls onto his back and wraps an arm around her. She melts into him, fitting perfectly into his side, her head beneath his shoulder. He breaths into her hair and she sobs into his chest.
“Thank you.” he says softly. She fights herself to quiet down so she can hear every word. “I could hardly get the words out, now you’re laying here…” Jemma let’s out what is a mix between a laugh and a whimper.
She woke up the next morning with his arms around her still.
Jemma rubs her fingertips together and smiles. “I would never ask him to change” she mutters.
Daisy over exaggerates clearing her throat and Jemma raises an eyebrow at her.
“What exactly just happened?” Daisy says, crossing her arms, and legs, and leaning her body weight on the desk.
“What do you mean?” Jemma squints.
“I think I said your name like… six times."
Jemma turns red again and covers her face. "I was just–”
“You were thinking about him.”
Jemma feels hot. Her heart is beating at an impossible pace. “I.. was… I… yes.”
“Okay, what am I missing here? I know you two are best friends. I know he’s obviously in love with you. I know you’re obviously in love with him, and now I know you’re sleeping together.”
“Not like that, I know. But still.” Daisy chews on her lower lip and examines Jemma, trying to read her body language before asking any questions. “Has anything else… happened between you two?”
Jemma gapes at Daisy, mouth hanging slightly open. She looks as though she’s about to get in trouble for something. Like she’s just been caught breaking the law by a police officer, or even worse, her mother.
“Well…” she tries to relax. It’s not the end of the world. She hasn’t done anything wrong. There’s no reason for her to be worried. But it’s about time she tell Daisy about what happened between her and Fitz. “There was…” she lets her words linger to encourage anticipation. “a kiss” she finishes.
Daisy’s jaw drops, and she uncrosses everything.
“WHAT?!?” she yells, grabbing the desk to keep her balance. Jemma goes red once more. She doesn’t try to cover her face this time, but her eyes are wide and round and she can’t seem to stop blinking. Someone in the hall has stopped walking and is looking their way.
Jemma glances past Daisy and calls to him. “It’s alright! Everything’s fine. You know Daisy, just overreacting. Go about your business.” The man reluctantly keeps walking.
Jemma swallows and scowls at Daisy, slapping her on the arm.
“You don’t think perhaps you could have yelled that a little quieter!” She scans the room for any more audience members, but they’re alone.
“You don’t think perhaps you could have told me that like as soon as it happened?” says Daisy, mimicking Jemma’s accent.
“It was emotional, and stressful. I didn’t exactly have time for girl talk. You know, there was a planet to save and all.”
Daisy tilts her head. "So… it wasn’t a good kiss?“
"What?” Jemma protests, putting her arms out in front of her. “No! It was…” she slips back into the moment, remembering the way his lips collided with hers. “I don’t exactly know how to explain it… what I felt… or what it meant to me."
Daisy waits patiently for more information, leaning forward more and more with everything Jemma says.
"I suppose…” Jemma tries to find the words. “I don’t know when I started to look at him differently. I don’t remember what he did or said that made me start to think in that direction, but… I know that when he kissed me.. everything made sense…” Jemma tucks her hair behind her ear and continues. “It felt natural. Familiar.” she speeds up her words. “And later I thought it silly we’d never tried it before. I mean I had wanted to. I thought about it. But there was never a chance, really. And when he finally kissed me…” she smiles. “Well, I didn’t want it to end. It was so…” she shakes her head in disbelief. “Perfect.”
Daisy gasps and Jemma looks at her, snapping out of the trance she put herself in.
“Until we pulled apart and he told me we were cursed.” Jemma rolls her eyes. “Bloody ridiculous.”
Daisy scoffs. “Since when have you ever believed in curses?"
"My thoughts exactly. Curses are only in fairy tale. Fitz knows that, he’s just being dramatic.” She says crudely, grunting and rolling her eyes. “And even worse, he tried to back up his preposterous argument by mentioning the pod..” Daisy winces.
“And the monolith.”
She winces again.
“And Will. I mean those are… Well that’s…” Jemma keeps muttering little things to herself, trying to figure out an explanation, but she can only begin the sentences without finishing them.
Daisy stares at her, holding an expression of concern until Jemma stops pacing and mumbling to look at her.
“You might actually be cursed…” Jemma’s face falls flat. That’s the last thing she wanted to hear.
"Well I said you’ve never believed in curses.. I didn’t say I don’t.” Daisy watches as Jemma starts to pace again, becoming more and more aggrovated by the conversation, and her own logic floundering in a very convicting argument about a curse. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t break it.”
Jemma plants her feet, and furrows her brow.
Daisy waits to see if she gathers what she’s alluding to, but when Jemma doesn’t say anything, she goes on. “You know… snow white… sleeping beauty… true loves kiss–”
“I know what you’re refferring to, my mum read stories to me as well…”
Daisy keeps her eyes on Jemma, stalking toward her. “Okay..” she starts. “So you just need to break it.”
Jemma glares at the floor, trying to grasp what Daisy is saying.
“But we’ve already kissed.” she says, looking at Daisy.
“It’s a tough curse.” she says, finally standing, feet planted in front of her. “Maybe you need to try again.”