something there is that doesn't love a wall
Apologies about incorrect rating before. Thank you for alerting me to my mistake whoever that was!
Prompt: Someone in the Playground accidentally walks in on Fitz and Simmons in a compromising position, and tries to keep their relationship a secret
For the record, I don't think Fitz will be this obtuse when we return for 3B. I'm certainly hoping not. But then, I suppose we can't rule anything out… The title is from the Robert Frost poem Mending Wall because I couldn't get "good fences make good neighbours" out of my head and apparently I am a colossal nerd.
For a-temporary-matter over on tumblr for the fitzsimmons network's fitzsimmonssecretvalentine exchange 2016. Hope you enjoy it, dude!
Jemma was beginning to wonder if maybe the cosmos had done a number on them after all.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, the team's well-meaning scheming to throw her and Fitz together had reached its zenith in this latest poorly-concealed match-making scheme. How Daisy had got Coulson to comply she'd never understand.
It had taken all her inner-poise and English politeness not to roll her eyes when she saw the nondescript black panel van that practically screamed "We're a secret spy organisation on a surveillance op."
The interior was something straight out of a Jason Bourne film, complete with bolted-down swivel chairs and swathes of monitors and a veritable galaxy of little flashing lights. And of course she and Fitz were going to be left in it together, alone for hours upon hours of the night, while Hunter retrieved something or delivered something or whatever thinly disguised plot it was this time to push them at one another.
It wasn't as if she hadn't made some efforts of her own, not that anyone was giving her any credit. Of course she'd tried to talk to him.
"I can't right now," he'd insisted that night he'd returned from Maveth, letting his arms drop from around her shoulders and then promptly disappearing from her life.
He was still on the base. Where else would he be? Hunter and Mack seemed to see plenty of him. Daisy, Lincoln and Bobbi still got to enjoy his company. Coulson asked him into his office at least every second day for long conversations that seemed to be doing neither of them any good. Even May exchanged more words with Fitz than she ever got to these days.
In fact, if it came to that, Jemma was almost thankful for those awkward moments when everyone else would suddenly get to their feet and bolt for the exits, leaving Fitz and her alone. She supposed she grudgingly appreciated the efforts of these friends who were trying to help them find some space for just the two of them. And it wasn't her who was trying to evade him, it was quite the other way around.
She spun nervously back-and-forth on her chair trying to channel her energy into thinking of something to say rather than admiring the way Fitz filled out his tac gear.
He beat her to the punch.
"Look, Jemma," he began, his gaze focused on the wall of flickering screens. "I know you're disappointed in me."
Disappointed. She pinched the bridge of her nose and forced herself to silently list the digits of pi. Her rage-filled thoughts were just coherent enough to conclude that the volume with which she wanted to yell in frustration was not conducive to their vehicle remaining unexceptional to passers-by.
"I know I'll never be able to apologise enough." His voice was gruff with emotion. "You trusted me with the most important thing in your life and I failed you."
"It's impressive, you know, Fitz," she managed, "that you're somehow able to be both perfectly right and staggeringly wrong all in the space of a single sentence."
At least it got him to meet her eye. Now it was his turn to swing uneasily in his seat.
"I trusted you with the most important thing in my life, yes," she agreed. "But you never failed me, Fitz. I told you to come back to me, and you did."
He blinked at her uncertainly.
"Do you know," Jemma sighed, "I've been trying to get you alone for weeks now, to tell you one thing I wish I'd told you years ago. You've barely let me get near you."
Fitz cast his eyes around their cramped quarters. "We're stuck here now, I guess."
She slid forward until each nervous swing of his chair brushed his knees against hers. She scooted a little further until she could clamp one of his legs between hers, stilling him at last, right where she wanted him. She brought her hands up to rest lightly against the seams of his dark pants.
Fitz sucked in a surprised breath, watching her like she was the rarest of birds, perched just inches from his nose.
"Fitz," she whispered, "have you processed what I said just now?"
His blue eyes flickered away from hers, falling to where her hands touched him. "It sounded like…"
Jemma couldn't wait for him all night. She'd waited quite long enough. "Like what, Fitz?"
"Like maybe you were saying I'm the most important person in your life. That me coming back from Maveth was what you cared about."
"And that somehow surprises you?" She had to fight to keep the exasperation out of her tone. "Even after all this time?"
"Well," Fitz ventured, "yeah. Yeah, it does. You told me you loved him."
She shook her head, annoyed at herself and even more annoyed at him. "I sort of hoped that me kissing you might have convinced you otherwise."
"I kissed you, Jemma," he argued. "And I should never have done it. You were with someone else."
Jemma huffed out a sigh. "Are you about to be utterly ridiculous, Fitz?" she asked dangerously. "Are you seriously going to apply high school level dating ethics to a situation that involves a portal to another planet, an astronaut sent as a human sacrifice, a death-obsessed centuries-old Inhuman and me thinking I'd never see the man I love ever again? Because if you are, don't forget to add that you had the prior claim. You'd asked me out for dinner first. If we must identify a victim here, it's clearly you." She pushed herself up from her seat, momentarily forgetting the proximity of the van roof. It wasn't nearly as satisfying to stalk off when she could only get fifty centimetres away and had to keep herself hunched over.
"I'm sorry you never got to see him again, Jemma."
It was all she could do not to knock her head against the nearest flickering screen. "Fitz, are you wilfully misunderstanding me? I was talking about you! You're the man I love."
"I was there," he said quietly. "You told me you loved Will. I've tried to forget it, believe me, Jemma. But I can't."
"But then I kissed you, Fitz! Just as independently and enthusiastically as you kissed me!" She was almost yelling now, surveillance be damned. "And haven't we always been better at showing one another how we feel? You couldn't have been more right when you said we never have the courage to talk about it."
A tentative hope flittered across his face.
She wasn't going to miss her chance now.
"Look, Fitz." She plonked herself back into her seat, working hard to will her voice back to a reasonable volume. "Let's be logical. It is, after all, supposed to be what we're good at. Yes, Will was important to me. Yes, after six months I thought I'd be on that planet alone with him forever. Yes, faced with that bleak future without you, I determined to make the best of it. He was a good man. You already know all this – after all those years he spent fighting to survive, he died getting me safely back to you. At first I thought this distance you've been keeping was you giving me time to come to terms with his death. But he's well and truly gone now, Fitz, and even if Will were here, alive and well, it would still only be you that I'd want."
He looked away again, disbelieving.
Jemma swallowed hard. "I'll understand if you feel you can't forgive me," she whispered.
"What?" Now Fitz's eyes were fixed on her, wide and horrified. "Is that what you think? I already told you I wasn't angry at you!"
"Why else would you be pushing me away?" she cried.
"No!" This time it was Fitz attempting to put some distance between them. The few inches he'd gained on her since the academy made his experience even less satisfactory. "It's you that shouldn't be able to forgive me!" He leaned his palms against the tinted glass panels set into the doors at the back of the van and dropped his head.
Jemma narrowed her eyes. "And with that preposterous and entirely unsubstantiated statement, I believe this conversation has come full circle!"
"Are you seriously trying to tell me that there's nothing standing in the way of us being together?" His voice sounded muffled but no less incredulous.
"Well," said Jemma quietly. "I can think of one thing."
"Oh, yeah?" Fitz snorted. "And what's that?"
"You."
Fitz turned and pressed his back to the van doors, sliding down into a melancholy ball at the bottom. He stared up at her, his blue eyes wells of confusion and despair.
Jemma slipped out of her chair and sat down next to him, pressing herself as close to his side as she dared.
"This is it, Fitz," she whispered, finding his hand and tangling her fingers with his. "You know there's no going back to where we were before."
"Before what?" he breathed, turning to study her face. "I can't remember not loving you, Jemma."
At last they were having the right conversation. Jemma swooped in to press her lips to his and Fitz immediately responded, bringing his free hand across his body to gently cup her cheek, angling himself more fully towards her.
His kiss was simultaneously all she needed and nowhere near enough. She launched herself up onto her knees and threw one leg over where both of his sprawled out in front of them, nestling herself into his lap.
Fitz groaned her name, wrapping his arms tight around her waist, pulling her more snugly against him. The hunger of those first kisses shared in the lab had only intensified with time and distance. At last they let themselves shower affection on one another, pouring into each heated kiss all of the complex emotion they felt. What with all their pent-up yearning, they could almost have devoured each other.
It gradually became apparent that tactical gear could only contain so much. Conscious of the way his body was responding to her, Jemma moved her hips against him, seeking to relieve her own desperate need. She was rewarded by an even more desperate need and an animal growl from Fitz as he left a ravenous trail of open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat.
She ripped at the velcro fastenings of her bullet-proof vest, yanking it off, leaving her in only her loose black top.
Fitz's hands immediately wandered under the soft material, finding bare skin. She gasped at his touch, bucking against him once more and kissing him so hard the sound of his head thudding back against the van door resounded in the confined space.
Lost in his kiss, she felt Fitz's fingertips sliding their way up her back, tracing muscle and bone, splaying out over her shoulder blades, bunching up the fabric of her shirt across his wrists.
"Take it off," she murmured against his mouth and when he gently pushed her back to see her face in the semi-dark, checking that she really meant it, she nodded vigorously, then surged back to kiss him again.
Fitz didn't need telling twice. He moved his wrists in such a way that the shirt flicked forward over her head, the gathered material at her neck the one remaining barrier between them, a black line of intimacy they had not yet crossed.
He almost stilled in his movements, gently easing the fabric of her shirt down over her arms and away, revealing her pale shoulders, the stark architecture of her collar bones, the light dusting of freckles across her décolletage, and her lacy turquoise bra in place of the practical black sports variety that revealed how little attention she'd paid to the pretend threat of danger in this ridiculous op.
Jemma smiled as Fitz's eyes roved appreciatively over the swell of her breasts, his breathing shallow and his expression reverent. She might have laughed had he not leaned ever so slowly forward to press one soft kiss directly over her heart.
"I love you, Fitz," she whispered into his hair, lightly resting her hands on either side of his face and dropping a kiss onto the top of his head. He looked up into her face, no mean feat considering the new and compelling landscape that had just opened up in his direct line of sight.
His eyes, dark sapphires in the dim light, welled up with tears. "I never thought we'd get here, Jemma," he whispered.
Something about the heightened emotion tipped Jemma into a completely inappropriate fit of giggles. "What? Second base?"
"God, Jemma!" Fitz barked out a disbelieving laugh. "Weren't you the one accusing me of being all high school earlier?"
She took a deep breath and tried to will her hysterics away. Her hands still rested against the sides of his face. She used the pad of her thumb to carefully wipe away the single tear that escaped down his cheek. "Sorry!" she whispered. "Pretend I never said it. I don't know, Fitz, I'm just nervous I suppose."
"Well, I'm not going to hang about talking now," he shot back, grinning. "We can save romance for when we're not stuck in the back of a van." He let his gaze drop back down from her eyes to her exposed creamy skin, clearly unable to help himself. "You're so beautiful, Jemma," he breathed, tracing the lace of her bra with his fingertips. "Did you know that? Did you know that I have never seen anything as beautiful as you?" He leant back against the van doors, splaying his hands across her shoulder blades once more and pulling her towards him.
Jemma arched her back, tilting her head back, and gasped at the sensation of his hot mouth against her flesh.
She vaguely registered the sound of a scuffling outside but Fitz's hands had travelled around to her chest once more and utterly absorbed her attention.
With a wrench, Hunter grasped both handles and yanked the van doors open. Fitz hit the ground first, his as-yet-undisturbed tac gear thankfully going some way to breaking his fall. On top of him, at Hunter's feet, sprawled a shirtless Jemma, the silvery clasp of her turquoise bra gleaming in the faint fluorescent streetlight.
"Bloody hell, you two," Hunter muttered, extending a hand to Jemma who looked up at him sheepishly.
She let him help her up, one arm held defensively across her chest. Fitz scrambled to his feet and chivalrously pushed her behind him while she felt about in the back of the van for her shirt.
"We were… umm. We were just…"
Hunter held up a hand to silence Fitz. "Not a word, mate. I'd wager even a non-spy could make a fairly accurate guess." He shot an anxious glance over his shoulder. "Can we just get out of here, please? I don't want those Icer bullets of yours wearing off any time soon, given the size of the guys I just pumped them into."
Jemma's eyes widened as she yanked her shirt back on. Was Hunter joking? Or had this been a legitimate op after all?
"Now, Simmons?" The urgency of his tone suggested that he most likely wasn't joking.
Fitz had already made his way through the van to the driver's seat. She followed after him in a daze, dropping into the passenger seat and pulling at her seatbelt, her mind reeling as she tracked back through all of the ops she'd chalked up to lame and unsuccessful match-making attempts.
Hunter yanked the van doors closed only a moment before Fitz pulled out into the traffic, collapsing into one of the swivel seats with a sharp intake of breath.
"You okay?" Fitz asked, glancing back at his friend in the rear-view mirror.
"Should be right, mate. Just a graze," Hunter replied.
Jemma let her seatbelt fly back into the retractor, pulling her kit out of the glove box and turning in her seat to get a better look at him.
"Get your vest off," she ordered, clambering back through the gap between the front seats to perch herself on the swivel seat beside Hunter.
As she had silently predicted, the ex-merc winked in reply. "Been a bit of that sort of thing going on in here tonight, eh?"
"Shut up, Hunter," she and Fitz shot back simultaneously.
He busied himself pulling off his gear so that Jemma could examine him.
"Just between us," Hunter whispered as she cleaned his wound. "I couldn't be more delighted to stumble across you the two of you going at it just now."
She rolled her eyes in reply, being decidedly less gentle in her treatment of him.
"But Simmons," he went on, waiting for her to look at him.
She fixed the bandage in place then raised her eyes to his expectantly.
He nodded toward the front of the van. "That man up there is one of the good ones and he's been through a lot 'cause of you."
"You don't think I know that, Hunter?" she asked archly.
"I know you do, love. I just want to make sure you also know that he probably can't take much more of it." He caught her hand as she packed away her supplies and his whisper grew more urgent. "Don't do this unless you're sure, alright, Simmons? He and I may not share the history that you two do, but he's the best mate I've got and Bobbi's come to love him like a brother. We don't want to be the ones watching him drink himself into oblivion if you break his heart again."
She wanted to tell him off, but the concern he obviously had for Fitz was just slightly more touching than annoying.
"I'm not going to break his heart, alright, Hunter?" she whispered back. "Fitz is the most precious person in the world to me. I'd quit S.H.I.E.L.D. before I'd risk hurting him again and you know how unlikely that is."
Hunter nodded, satisfied. "Now I suppose you want me to keep my mouth shut about you two."
"Yes, please, Hunter," she agreed. "Let us tell people in our own time."
"Done," he replied. "Promise."
She gathered up her kit and went to return to her seat beside Fitz.
Hunter grabbed her hand, stilling her once more. "I really am stoked about this, Simmons. Bob and I have been rooting for you two all this time."
"Thanks, Hunter," she laughed. "Good luck not telling her!"
His face was suddenly stricken.
"You promised, remember!" Jemma reminded him.
"Right," he muttered to himself, nodding with a gallant attempt at conviction. "To the grave."
…
"Don't look at me!" Hunter cried, edging his way into the bunk that he and Bobbi had ended up sharing somewhere along the way.
"When did you find time to go drinking?" Bobbi asked suspiciously. "I thought you only just got back from the mission."
"That's true," he said, keeping his face carefully averted. "I haven't got a drop in me. Yet."
"Then what the hell is wrong with you?" she asked.
"I can't keep anything from you, Bob, you know that," Hunter sighed, covering his face with his hands before he turned to face her. "You're going to take one look at me and you'll know everything!"
"Is this about Fitz and Simmons?" she asked, amused. "I already know, Hunter."
He peered out at her from between his fingers. "Know what? Specifically."
She laughed. "I just saw them holding hands on the security footage. Pretty sure I spotted a giant hickey on her neck too."
"You did?" Hunter asked, flopping onto the bed in relief. "Thank god for that. As you are my witness, Bob, I'm innocent. No FitzSimmons secrets have been spilled by me."
Bobbi chuckled. "Not yet, anyway."
…
Mack knew something was up the minute he heard Fitz whistling over his work.
"That you, Turbo?" he called.
"Yeah, sorry Mack." Fitz poked his head around the door. "Did you need me for something?"
The big man stared at him a moment before he replied.
"Mack?"
Fitz's whole posture seemed looser somehow. Even his face looked relaxed and far more like he was holding back a laugh than tears for once.
Mack shrugged. "Nah, I'm good."
Fitz gave him a curt nod and disappeared once more. It only took a second for the whistling to resume.
Mack smiled to himself. He felt confident Bobbi would come through with the FitzSimmons details when they had a moment to catch up.
…
Coulson and May made their way to the lab, arguing good-naturedly.
"I'm sure Fitz said we can re-fuel her in mid-air," Coulson was saying.
"We can, Phil, but last I heard, he was still tinkering with a way to increase the jump-jet's fuel capacity," she countered.
"We'll let's get a progress report." The director looked around the lab. "Fitz?"
No answer.
"Simmons?"
May nudged him, nodding her head towards the overhead surveillance screens.
In a dark corridor of the Playground, Jemma had Fitz pressed up against a wall, her mouth on his neck.
"Right," Coulson sighed. "I guess the report can wait."
May nodded, the slightest of smiles playing on her lips.
…
"They can cope without you for a few minutes, Daisy," Lincoln whispered, rubbing her back and shoulders just the way he knew she liked.
"Lincoln," Daisy scolded, shrugging out of his grasp. "Don't distract me right now, okay? You of all people know how important this intake process can be."
"I do know," he replied, nodding. "And I know that sometimes, all a newly transformed Inhuman needs is a bit of time and space to come to terms with it all before we burst back in and start talking at them."
"Which just happens to work in with your plans for me right now, am I right?"
Lincoln winked. "Serendipitous, isn't it?" He reached down and took both her hands, walking backwards and pulling her along with him.
She relaxed into his insistence, letting him lead her toward Zephyr One.
"The plane?" she enquired, eyebrows high.
"It's the nearest private place," Lincoln shrugged. "Besides, aren't you in a hurry?"
Daisy stopped still and nodded up toward the cockpit. "Perhaps not as private as you thought?"
Against the cockpit window lent a young woman, her dark hair falling free in loose curls, her pale shoulders bare, her back arched and her arms thrown wantonly over her head.
Lincoln gave a low whistle. "Looks like someone beat us to it. And whoever it is, it looks like a mission very nearly accomplished to me."
He turned back to Daisy, expecting to see her laughing in that adorably wide-eyed, hand-over-her-mouth kind of a way she reserved for this sort of awkward moment.
Instead she was staring intently up at the woman, brow furrowed.
"Daisy," he muttered, tugging on her hand. "It's a little voyeuristic of us to just stand here. That girl is clearly in the process of having her brains scooped out. Perhaps she'd prefer a little more privacy?"
"Oh my god, Lincoln," she hissed, grabbing his arm. "That's Jemma up there!"
Lincoln gaped up at the cockpit. "Seriously? With Fitz?"
"I can't see Fitz," she replied. "I'm guessing that's because he's… umm… you know. Busy."
Lincoln burst into a fit of giggles.
Now Daisy was the one yanking at Lincoln. "We have to get out of here! Imagine how horrified they'd be if they knew we'd seen!"
"Well, technically we haven't seen Fitz," he argued with a suggestive eyebrow waggle as she pulled him into motion. "Just the impressive results of his handiwork."
"Shut up and move, Lincoln."
The two of them ran out of the hangar giggling uncontrollably.
…
Briefing that night was an arduous interruption as far as Jemma was concerned. She and Fitz had barely been able to keep their hands off one another from the moment they arrived back at the base the previous evening and, as in everything else, the two of them were proving to be highly compatible.
She needed everyone to say what they had to say as quickly as possible so she could drag Fitz back to her room and revel in the sensation of not just wanting but having, of loving and being loved in return. It was heady and inspiring, simultaneously opening up the whole world and narrowing it down to his eyes, his lips, his hands, his heart.
As Fitz had suggested, the two of them restrainedly selected seats opposite one another rather than side-by-side, but all that meant was that she could see the blue of eyes as he stared at her, watch the way his gaze occasionally dipped under her high collar, seeing her through her clothes, tracing with a glance the dips and curves with which he'd recently become intimately acquainted.
Jemma didn't take in a word anyone said and she knew it was the same for Fitz. He bit his bottom lip and she nearly groaned. She telegraphed her desire for him in heavy-lidded blinks and his jaw dropped gormlessly open.
They were utterly oblivious to the knowing smirks on the faces of their fellow agents, unmoved by anything other than the knowledge of their imminent escape, anticipating the undressing and caressing they could soon be free to resume.
"FitzSimmons!" Coulson said, for perhaps the third time before he managed to get their attention. "It's come to my attention that the two of you need a week's leave."
"A fortnight," May insisted. "At least."
"What?" spluttered Fitz, catching up in a rush.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted," the director chuckled. "But you two are becoming a safety hazard."
Jemma and Fitz turned their narrowed eyes on Hunter who immediately raised his hands in surrender.
"Don't look at Hunter," Bobbi laughed from her seat beside Fitz. "It's not his fault that what little subtlety and espionage potential you two ever had got completely swallowed by your desire to jump one another's bones."
"Ouch," retorted Fitz. "That's actually quite hurtful, Bobbi."
She ruffled his hair affectionately. "You hurt the ones you love. Besides, it's true."
Jemma piped up from across the table, her cheeks flushed with mortification. "Umm, sir?" she squeaked in Coulson's direction. "Do you think you might be able to continue what you were saying about Fitz and I taking leave?"
"You two have been through a lot. S.H.I.E.L.D. owes you some… shall we call it overtime? May will drop you wherever you want to go."
The specialist got to her feet. "Wheels up at 1900, FitzSimmons. Choose your destination and pack your bags."
"Let me know what you need me to book," Daisy added. "I can get you accommodation anywhere. No sweat."
Jemma sought her partner's face. "Fitz! We could-"
He nodded eagerly. No further words were required.
"Get your laptop, Daisy," Jemma directed, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. "I know exactly what we need."
…
"Daisy did well, Fitz," Jemma breathed, turning slowly around in the cosy living room of their rented Perthshire cottage.
"Mmm," Fitz agreed, gazing out the windows at the stunning almost-spring display, bright sprigs of emerald green sprouting from mostly bare trees against an azure sky, tufts of growth here and there, even where the ground was still covered with patches of blinding white snow.
She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his back. The wool of his navy cardigan, one she hadn't seen on him since before she'd been taken to Maveth, was warm and comforting. It smelled like him, like them, together at last.
Jemma's eye caught on a calendar of picturesque Scottish scenery hanging over the roaring open fire. She tracked through the squares trying to make sense of the day or the date, squinting to recall their new time zone.
Fitz felt her laugh against him. "What is it, Jem?"
"Happy Valentine's Day, Fitz," she replied.
He turned to face her, eyebrows raised.
"Look for yourself!" she replied mock-defensively, nodding towards the calendar.
A measure of that old uncertainty crept back into Fitz's expression. "I've never done this before, you know," he said. "Had a… girlfriend."
Jemma beamed at him, feeling silly for how much she loved that term on his lips. "Well," she replied. "It's the rare boyfriend-" (she similarly enjoyed watching Fitz's shy-smile reaction to its counterpart) "that manages to plan a romantic getaway to his girlfriend's destination of choice and charter a private plane to get her there."
"So, this is a good start then?" he asked hopefully. "So far I'm succeeding at Valentine's Day?"
Jemma laughed, sliding her arms around his neck. "Today, you are," she whispered, standing on tiptoe to place a soft-yet-promising kiss to his lips. "But surpassing this next year is going to be a nightmare."
"We've only been together two days, Jemma," he reminded her, his smile soft. "Are you sure you want to stick yourself with me for next year already?"
"Are we or are we not in Perthshire?" she asked, fondly exasperated. "I was a little girl when I decided that this was my favourite place in the world and you know that it's you that I'm hoping to settle down here with. It's not just next Valentine's Day I'm locking you in for. It's the rest of our lives, ok Fitz?"
Fitz's face took on that soft, hopeful, disbelieving, giddy glow of tentative happiness that always took her breath away. She kissed him again, more urgently this time.
"You believe in equality, Jem," he murmured against her lips, kissing her in reply and then again and again. "Next Valentine's Day is on you."
She was too busy dragging him to the bedroom to argue.
And now I can get back to work on my midwife!