SWEET DREAMS

Simmons returned to the team covered in blood. Only some of it belonged to her, some to the innocent people HYDRA killed, but most of it from HYDRA agents. The scientist, the kind girl with the gentle smile had returned bloody and tired. The look in her eyes when Trip and Skye found her in the remnants of the HYDRA facility was almost deranged.

Skye and Trip had helped retrieved her. They didn't hug her for obvious reasons, but they did express their pleasure in her safe return. Coulson and May greeted her next. Coulson cracked a joke, May and Simmons shared a look of understanding, between what Simmons had to do, and that Coulson's joke was terrible. Mack and Lance said hello to her last. They greeted her and introduced themselves. Simmons's welcome party did not include Fitz.

Simmons saw him in the lab on her way to the shower. She stopped and called to him, "Fitz!" She was elated to see her friend again. He turned to look at her, he glanced at the blood that stained her arms, shirt and legs. The only thing that was not sticky or dry was her face.

"Is it yours?" He motioned to the blood.

"No," She said. "Not most of it anyway."

"Oh, welcome back," Fitz said. Then he turned his back to her and continued what he was doing, almost indifferent.

If there was anyone who saw Jemma Simmons's facial expression that followed, they would have sworn they just saw the girl's heart break. Simmons stood there, her expression dejected, before turning and walking to shower and change. Her dreams consisted of crimson-stained nightmares.

The next morning, Skye brought Simmons breakfast in bed. Simmons ate and changed into borrowed clothes. Skye then took her to Coulson's office. Simmons spent the entire day debriefing. When she retold Coulson everything she could, the detail was eerie. Coulson made sure to send her for a psych evaluation. She was alright, she wasn't insane, but she did have traumatic stress, it wasn't serious, but it was there. That night, Simmons dreamt of blood.

The next day Skye took Simmons to buy clothing. Until then, Simmons didn't realize all of her worldly possessions were destroyed or confiscated by HYDRA. Her wardrobe was a strange clash of pale pastels and somber grays, blacks and blues. Skye and her went out for Chinese food and talked about their lives before SHIELD. That night, Simmons dreamt of screams.

The day after that, she started working in the lab again, alongside Fitz. But not with him. He kept to himself in his private corner, while Biochemists pestered her with questions that were all too easy to answer. He didn't talk to her. He did talk to Mack, and he talked to himself.

"Why should I talk to her?" Fitz asked. He paused, as if someone was answering.

"You're my friend, she's…. different now." He paused again.

"She chose to leave." More pausing, he turned to an imaginary person.

"I'm pretty sure no one in their right mind would force you- Jemma into a job that requires her to lie!" He waited some more, scoffing and rolling his eyes at this nonexistent person.

"Yes, I'm sure, and nothing you can say can make me change my mind," Fitz leaned on his palms against the table. Simmons could barely here what he said next.

"You aren't real."

After a week of her and Fitz saying only maybe five words to each other a day, Simmons became simply fed up. Her patience was strained, and now she really wanted to talk to Fitz. She waited still, until the lab was empty that night and they both were working late. The room's lights were shut off, except for the lights on their workspaces. Simmons cleaned up her test tubes of chemicals and walked over to where Fitz was tinkering with bits of alloy.

"Leopold Fitz, we need to talk," She said. "I have been back for nearly a week and a half and you have said not much more than six sentences worth of words to me. Now, I understand that the damage to your left temporal lobe makes it difficult to communicate and that you have subpar motor skills. But I have seen you talking to yourself, Mack, Lance, Skye and even Trip in complete sentences, and fairly well too. So pardon me when I conclude that you are avoiding me, and that you don't want to talk to me. Why, Fitz? I'm sorry I left, and that I did it without telling you. I promise that I can and will apologize every day if I have to, if you want me to. But please, Fitz, I want to talk to my best friend again."

"You left b-because I'm… I'm different now… and uh, that uh, in the pod I… I told you that I… and then you left," Fitz refused to look at her,

"Fitz, I promise that I would never leave you for something so selfish. I left for a good reason, and I am sorry that I did. I needed to hurt HYDRA how they hurt me- you- us- the team. What had happened… I needed to take it out on someone. So Coulson he…. Needed a mole and I was the only one on the team who was best qualified. Which does say something because we both know I am a terrible liar."

"You could've told me," Fitz muttered. Simmons restrained herself from touching his shoulder.

"I tried but… I felt guilty. I've felt guilty since what happened to you. It's not fair, never fair that I was fine and you-"

"I made that choice," Fitz turned around. "I sacrificed myself, to let you live. I wanted to do that."

"I didn't want you to do that! I would have rather died down there with you than to have seen you suffer the way you have. I felt so guilty after you woke up, you depended on me for-for everything and I was…scared. You weren't recovering and I thought it was because I was helping you. Coulson and May agreed, so I left. I left so you could get better, so I could get better, so HYDRA could suffer."

"You didn't leave because I… like you."

"Of course not, silly!" Simmons said, throwing her arms around his shoulders, crushing his chest to hers, she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and neck. Fitz remembered something.

"W-Why would you make me do this, you're my best friend in the world!" Simmons cried.

"Yeah, and you're more than that to me." Fitz said, Simmons gasped, looking positively startled. Fitz looked down and continued, "But I couldn't find the courage to tell you. So, please. Let me show you."

Crying, Simmons hugged him, tightly, because as far as she knew, that was her last chance to hug him. She buried her nose in the crook of his shoulder and neck, and started kissing his face, from neck, to cheek, to forehead to other cheek. She was sobbing, and holding him, not letting go. She finally pulled away, body racking with sobs.

"Its ok, Jemma. Jemma we have to hurry," Fitz said as he handed her the oxygen.

"No."

"Take it. Take it," He said. Simmons finally held the mask. He pushed the button before she could let go of it. The last thing he remembered hearing was her bloodcurdling, earsplitting scream. "NO!"

Back in the real world, Simmons still hugged him. She ran a hand through his hair. He was very aware of the fact that she smelled like honeysuckle soap and formaldehyde.

"I missed you," Fitz said. "I had a hallucination, who talked to me. She was you. My subconscious created her because I missed you. I wasn't very nice to her… because I was mad at you… I missed you."

Fitz felt her head raise, so it no longer was resting on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, and cursed himself. "Stupid," He whispered when her arms slid away from his back and her chest no longer was pressed to his. He must have made her uncomfortable, with his declaration. At that point he heard a strange sort of gurgle, like a watery laugh. Something soft and smooth pressed against his mouth, it took him a moment to realize it was Simmons's lips.

He reeled back, confused as to why her lips were pressed against his. He could still feel her breath on his face inhale sharply. He opened his eyes to look at hers. "Wh-why did you kiss me?" He stuttered.

"Leo," She sounded amused. What was so funny? "Why does someone usually kiss someone else?"

"Because they like them," He said, his eyebrows furrowing. She smiled. "Oh… Oh!" He finally gasped in realization. Now he felt stupid and not stupid at the same time.

Simmons leaned forward, catching his lips with hers. She held his face gently with her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumb ever so gently. Regardless, the sensation tickled from his unshaven scruff. He had not been able to shave because his hands were unsteady and he kept cutting himself, so he gave up all together. Stupid! A little voice in the back of his head whispered. Jemma is kissing you, quite feverishly, and you are thinking about shaving! Fitz agreed with the little voice, and just to show the little voice this, he tilted his head ever so slightly, and deepened the kiss.

Since the kiss started, his arms hung loose at his sides. He decided that he should probably put them somewhere, but he didn't know where exactly to put them. Hips? Waist? Arms? Shoulders? Neck? Face? There was so much human anatomy that could be appropriate to hold during a kiss. He wasn't aware of the proper procedure, he hadn't kissed a girl in a long time. And definitely never like the way Jemma was kissing him now. Consequently, his arms started flailing robotically.

Jemma smiled against his mouth, as if everything he did was great humor, and stopped holding his face. She gripped his wrists, and placed his hands on her hips, as if guiding him where to put them. He curled his index fingers through the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her so impossibly close. She squeaked in surprise, but embraced him again. One hand cradled the back of his head, fingers threaded through his curly hair. The other cupped the nape of his neck. Both pulled his head closer to hers, so the access of the kiss was even better.

Her tongue entered his mouth unceremoniously, and ran across the roof of his mouth several times. The pleasurable tingle that the strokes generated made him moan. She slowly walked backwards to his work table, his hands still resting and gripping her hips. They moved together, like a dance. The kissing had made her knees grow weak and wobbly. She tried to raise herself onto the table without letting go of his face. Realizing this, Fitz's hands moved from her hips to the backs of her thighs, passing over her bottom. He lifted her up onto the table. She separated her thighs so there was room for him to be close to her. His hands slid from the bottoms of her thighs to the outer sides. Her legs swung around his hips and pulled him close, her ankles latching behind him.

For once, neither brilliant mind was thinking, rushing or pacing. The only thing that existed for either of them was the other one, and the space that they shared. Every touch, every moan, every movement and every sensation was the result of ten years of sexual tension, yearning and hopeless devotion.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The lights flickered on, "Hey Fitz, I had an idea for the combustion chamber-" Mack said, walking in, he stopped.

Upon hearing his voice, both Fitz and Simmons's heads snapped to the side to look at the intruder. They were caught kissing not unlike horny teenagers. In the light, it was clear to see their raw, swollen, pink lips, as a result from the kissing. Fitz's hair was a mess from Simmons running her fingers through it. Their pupils were blown so wide, that their irises looked black. The two had their arms, and in Simmons case, legs, locked in the embrace.

The three people looked at each other wide-eyed, and shocked. They were all subsequently embarrassed. Mack, for interrupting such a special, momentous and long over-due occasion, and FitzSimmons, for being caught making out in a dimly lit lab.

"I can tell you in the morning," Mack said quickly, all but running out of the lab.

Simmons and Fitz turned to each other. Simmons was smiling so wide her face may have split in half, and Fitz's jaw was slackened as if he was still comprehending what had just happened. Simmons giggled, burying her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder, and her body racked with laughs. Simmons finally raised her head again, and unhooked her legs from his hips.

"It's late, I should probably be going," Simmons said. "Skye might wonder what happened to me."

Fitz and her quickly untangled, him stepping off to the side, back to the table, so she could slide off it. She slipped off the table, and turned to face him.

"I'll see you in the morning, Leo," She smiled.

"Jemma," he managed to croak.

She leaned close and peppered his cheek with a light kiss. She left the lab with a spring in her step. That went a lot better than she was expecting.

When he heard the door close behind her, Fitz spun a half-turn and leaned on his palms against the table. He glanced at the spot to his right where she sat just moments ago, kissing him as if it was the greatest experience she ever had. Kissing her was certainly the best experience he ever had. Better than getting his PhD at seventeen, better than being the youngest graduate of Sci-Ops, better than the first field mission. He ran a finger through his hair, which stuck out at odd ends and asked the empty room a very important question, "Did that really just happen?"

When Simmons returned to her room, Skye sat on the bed, laptop in lap, she glanced up at Simmons.

"Did you two make out?" She asked, looking at Simmons's puffy lips and ecstatic demeanor.

"No," Simmons scoffed.

"I still have no idea how you tricked HYDRA," Skye told her. "World's worst liar."

That night, Simmons dreamt of Fitz.

I came up with this one shot in Honors Geometry in the back of my notebook and decided it was good enough to post.

Thank you for reading

RPP