xxxx
i.
"You're so cute!" Simmons slurred as she slapped at Fitz's chest as he walked her back to their off campus apartment, his arm around her waist helping to keep her steady.
"And you are so drunk," he replied playfully, trying to ignore the burning at the tips of his ears. The duo were returning from an end of semester party and Simmons had uncharacteristically let loose. Fitz confined himself to a few beers to keep an eye on his best friend.
"Maybe just a little," she pinched her fingers together to demonstrate.
Fitz smirked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"Okay," she relented with a giggle, "maybe a lot."
It took some finagling to get his key into the lock of their door and keep Simmons steady but when he got it open he guided her inside, "Come on you lush, lets get you to bed."
Jemma giggled and winked at him.
"Jemma Simmons," he admonished with a smile.
"My head hurts, and I have to use the loo," she whined, suddenly forgetting about her earlier giggles.
Fitz walked her to the bathroom trying not to smile, "You alright?" he removed his arm from her waist slowly to see if she was steady enough on her feet.
"Mmmhmm."
"Ok, I'll be right back with some aspirin."
Simmons carefully made her way into the bathroom and Fitz hurried away to grab a bottle of water and aspirin. When he returned, Jemma was making her way out of the bathroom, she had somehow lost a boot and sock along the way and her hair was sticking up rather adorably. Fitz offered her the pills which she gladly accepted and then proceeded to help her to bed. Her gait was now even more off since losing one of her heeled boots. Reaching her room, he leaned down to flip back her sheets before helping her sit on the edge of the mattress.
"Fitz?"
"Yeah Jem?" Leo looked up from his task of removing her remaining boot and sock.
"You're my best friend in the whole world," Simmons said solemnly.
"And you're mine too," Fitz smiled and squeezed her knee.
"I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met you. You make me feel whole and special. You just get me and I just really love you. Like a lot. Like a lot a lot, like more than I love Curly Wurly's or tea," she rambled with tears in her eyes.
"More than Curly Wurly's and tea, huh?" Fitz tried to derail her emotional babble.
Jemma put one hand on his cheek and nodded seriously.
"Jemma?" Fitz' voice caught in his throat when he noticed how Jemma was looking at him. Before he knew it Jemma had pulled him to her and her lips were on his, her tongue tracing his lips.
She tasted like cheap whiskey and something decidedly just Jemma and Fitz knew then and there that he would never be happy kissing anyone else.
"Jemma, we can't," he pulled back regretfully.
She reached for him again, "Why not?" she whined.
"Not when you are drunk, ok?" he locked his eyes onto hers.
"Ok," she sighed and rested her forehead against his. "Fitz?"
"Hmm?"
"I don't feel well," she whispered and began to pull away.
Before Fitz could act Simmons' body convulsed slightly and she vomited on the front of his shirt, before being able to turn slightly to vomit again in her trash can.
When she finished she looked up and covered her mouth in horror, embarrassed tears filling her eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
"It's ok," he reassured her. "Come on, lets get cleaned up."
He helped her to her feet and they shuffled back to the bathroom. Once inside, Fitz sat Jemma down on the closed toilet lid before quickly removed his soiled shirt and tossing it in the bathtub to be rinsed off later. He grabbed a wash cloth, wetting it with cool water, and helped Jemma clean up before scrubbing his own chest with it. When they were done, he tossed it into the tub beside his shirt for later laundering.
Jemma tried and failed not to stare at his bare chest or focus on the way the muscles in his back rippled under her hand as he led her back to her room.
"I'll be right back," he deposited her back onto her bed and picked up her trash can. She could hear him rinsing it out in the bathroom and when he returned with the now clean can, he also had gotten a fresh shirt and a few more bottles of water.
He placed the bottles within easy reach on her nightstand, "Do you want to change?"
Jemma nodded her head and attempted to unbutton her blouse but gave Fitz a pitiful look when she was unable to do so. Fitz began to recite the periodic table in his head as he removed Simmons shirt, leaving her in just a tank top. "That ok?"
Simmons nodded but then quietly asked, "Pants?"
Fitz tossed the periodic table out the window and began to recite pi as he unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them down her legs, she helped to kick them off when they reached her ankles.
"Ok?"
"Ok." she nodded then paused, "Fitz?"
"Yeah Jemma?"
She struggled for words before he came to her rescue, "I'll be right here."
Simmons snuggled down into her pillow as Fitz carefully tucked her in and flicked off her light. She wished the room would stop spinning. She blindly flung out one hand, searching for Fitz. When she found his hand and clasped it in her own, suddenly the room seemed much steadier. Simmons closed her eyes with a relaxed sigh and allowed sleep to overtake her.
xxxx
ii.
"Merry Christmas!" Skye squealed excitedly as Fitz and Simmons entered the common area of the bus together.
"Happy Christmas Skye!" Jemma replied with a grin as she and Fitz emptied their arms of the wrapped presents they were holding.
"Hey Fitz, look up," Skye jerked her head towards the ceiling of the bus.
Fitz frowned in confusion and then followed her gaze, his face reddening when he saw no doubt what Skye herself had planted there.
Simmons looked over at her partner and seeing his blush, looked up to see what his eyes were locked onto.
A sprig of mistletoe hung from the ceiling directly above them. She felt her cheeks redden as well with the implication. She knew Fitz would never make the first move and that Skye would never let them live it down it they didn't follow through. After all, it was just a silly little tradition. It didn't mean anything, right? Just like the time she had drunkenly kissed him freshman year, didn't, couldn't mean anything. They were friends. They could do this.
Simmons tried to ignore the pounding of her heart as she stepped even closer to Fitz. Happy Christmas, Fitz," she cupped his cheek with her right hand, drawing their faces nearer and then slanted her lips over his.
When she pulled away moments later, she had to remind herself how to breathe, and to try to forget about how perfect Fitz's lips felt against her own.
xxxx
iii.
After she was dismissed from Coulson's office and she had apologized to Ward, she headed straight for Fitz's bunk, their earlier brief reunion not having been long enough to properly thank him. She saw him sitting on his bunk, pillow clutched in his arms, as he stared straight ahead at the wall. Jemma silently slipped in, shutting the door behind her and sat down next to him.
"I was going to do it-"
"I know you were," she gently cut him off with a smile.
"I had the anti-serum, the shoot, everything, I just couldn't get the straps on."
"Fitz, please-" she tapped his knee, trying to get his attention.
"And you know maybe I couldn't have done the whole James Bond in midair," he plowed on, still unable to look in her direction.
"Fitz, shut up," she grinned, reaching for him but then second guessed herself, bringing her hands back to cup her chin instead, "please?"
Fitz finally stopped babbling and began to play with his fingers, still staring at an unknown spot on the wall.
"Ward did an amazing thing, yes," she began, "but it wasn't Ward by my side in the lab searching for a cure." she told him and then her voice softened, "It wasn't Ward giving me hope when I had none. It was you," she put emphasize on the you. "You're the hero," Jemma nudged his side, pleased to see a smile take over his features as he finally turned to look at her.
"Yeah?" he met her eyes and she could see he was still unsure of himself, nervously playing with his fingers.
"Yeah," she assured him with a smile. "Thank you," she lightly tapped his thigh with her finger and when Fitz nodded with a smile she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Fighting down the butterflies that the simple action brought up, she placed her hand on Fitz's knee and used it for leverage when she stood and left his bunk. Had she turned around like she wanted to before she slid his door shut behind her, she would have seen him looking lost in thought, clutching his pillow just a little bit tighter.
xxxx
iv.
"One breath, but there's two of us," Jemma was confused.
"Yeah, I've done the math," Fitz paused as he tried to catch his breath, "That's why you're taking it. You're a better swimmer than me."
"No!" she refused.
"Jemma-"
"No!," she shook her head violently, "I'm not leaving you here, thats ridiculous! We need a new plan."
"No, we're not discussing it, ok?" Fitz shook his head, willing her to understand. "You're taking it, end of story. I couldn't live if you didn't."
"Well, I feel the same way!" she argued, "There has to be another way!"
"You're taking it," he insisted.
"Why? Why would you make me do this?" she searched his eyes, desperate for answers as to why he was giving up so easily without a fight. "You're my best friend in the world!"
"Yeah, and you're more than that Jemma," he blurted out before he lost his nerve.
Jemma sucked in a shaky breath.
"And I couldn't find the courage to tell you, so please, let me show you." he was desperate to keep his tears at bay as he saw a drop slide down Jemma's cheek.
Jemma sobbed as she threw her arms around him.
"It's ok," he tried to comfort her as he wrapped his arms around her.
"No," she cried. "no," and then her hands were cradling his head and her lips were on his cheek, his forehead, his eyelids, his neck.
"Jemma," he whispered as he kissed her forehead. "Jemma, we have to hurry."
"No, no," she clung to him, her tears blinding her vision.
"Take it Jemma,"
"No!"
"Take it," he gently pulled out of her embrace.
"No," she glared down at the canister that he pressed into her hands as if it was to blame for not being enough for both of them, and then looked up to meet his teary gaze.
He offered her a brave smile, before turning and smashing his hand over the button.
"Nooooo!" she screamed as he made contact and the window burst open, icy ocean water instantly filling the pod.
She sucked in the breath of air that the canister offered and tried not to panic as she searched for Fitz in the darkness. She found him still and limp on the floor, the blast had sent him flying into the wall. She quickly looped an arm around him and began to frantically swim for the surface, praying that it wouldn't be too late.
xxxx
v.
The second Jemma was released from her hyperbaric chamber she went to the medical area in the base where Fitz and herself had been transported to in order to be with the team. He had spent time in his own hyperbaric chamber and was now laying still and pale on a hospital gurney. An oxygen cannula was hooked up to his nose, and a pulse oximetry was clipped to his finger, as well as an IV bag pumping fluid and medication into his veins.
His doctors filtered in and out of his room and updated her as they went along. Jemma clutched his hand, staring at him as the doctors spoke. Words like hypoxia, concussion, arm fracture, amnesia, hallucinations, psychosis, confusion, and personality regression bounced around her head, screaming incessantly at her, long after the doctors had left.
Coulson, May, Skye, Triplett, and even Koenig came by, but Jemma could barely find it in her to acknowledge their presence.
Three weeks had passed when Fitz finally opened his eyes. It started with a gentle twitch of his hand, clasped firmly in her own, and then his eyelashes began to flutter against his cheeks.
"Fitz?" Jemma gently called, terrified of getting her hopes up.
But then blue eyes were staring at her and three weeks of pent up emotion let loose. Tears streamed down her face, "Don't," she kissed his cheek, "you," she dropped another kiss on his temple, "ever," another to his right eyelid, "pull," his forehead, "something," his left eyelid, "like," his left temple, "that," his left cheek, "again!" she finished, finally landing a kiss where she wanted to the most. His lips were dry and cracked against her own, but she didn't care.
She pulled back to meet his eyes again and he stared back at her.
If the ocean water was like a hundred punches to the stomach, Fitz's next words were like ten thousand punches.
"Who," he began, his voice thick from not using it, "who are you?"