All characters belong to Marvel. Written for Day #5 of FitzSimmons week. Prompt: Costume.
By the time Fitz returns from his latest mission well after midnight, the base is almost completely silent. He passes a few of the night owls and gives them short nods, quickening his pace to avoid getting roped into any conversations. He's sore and exhausted and all he wants to do is find Jemma and curl up in bed.
He thanks Thor and Odin and whatever other gods actually exist that his girlfriend is nowhere to be seen in the lab he passes on the way to their shared bunk. If she's not in the lab, it means that she's gone to bed early, and Fitz feels a surge of happiness at the thought of seeing Jemma curled up asleep in their bed, light and tablet no doubt still on as signs of her attempt at staying up for him.
Fitz finds very few things to be more beautiful than a peacefully sleeping Jemma Simmons, and subconsciously lengthens his strides so that he might get to see such a thing as soon as possible. He ducks down the hallway where most of the sleeping quarters are and gingerly removes his pack and Kevlar outside the door of his bunk so as not to wake Jemma with the noise when he movies inside.
Once certain that nothing else needs to be un-velcroed, Fitz reaches for the door knob and holds his breath as he pushes it open, hoping that the hinges he'd made sure to oil last week don't squeak. It's blissfully silent and Fitz holds his breath as he backs into the room and carefully shuts the door behind him.
When he turns around, the breath immediately whooshes out of him and his mouth drops open at the sight he's greeted with.
"Ho…ly…"
Jemma is most definitely not asleep, instead standing in the middle of their room with a coy smile that leaves Fitz swallowing in an attempt to moisten his suddenly dry throat.
"Hello Captain."
The pack and vest that Fitz had been holding fall to the ground as he tries to memorize everything about the sight in front of him. He has a feeling that when he tries to call on the memory later down the road, all he'll be able to detail is the crimson color of Jemma's lipstick and the way that it accentuates her mischievous grin.
"Wh…you look…"
He shakes his head slightly in the hopes that it might jostle his mind enough to form a coherent thought and, when it most decidedly doesn't, Fitz decides to just let his eyes rove over the goddess in front of him. The tailored blazer and skirt, though entirely modest, do something to Jemma's figure that makes Fitz question for the millionth time how he's lucky enough to be her boyfriend.
And the color.
It's a military green that somehow manages to make her eyes even brighter than normal, bringing out the golden hues and accentuating the light withing them. He cants his head slightly, gaze moving from her precarious stilettos back to her ruby red lips, before he blinks slightly at the realization that Jemma looks… familiar.
Of course, she always looks familiar because it's Jemma and there's nothing in the world that Fitz is more familiar with than Jemma, but it's something else that's niggling at the back of his mind. It's as though she's an old movie or photograph and…
Fitz blinks again as his mind begins to put two and two together. Jemma looks especially familiar tonight because he has seen this outfit before. But where on earth had he…
"Hang on… is that… is that a Peggy Carter costume?"
Fitz's astonished question causes Jemma's seductive expression to immediately be replaced with one of exasperation as she places her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes with a huff. "It's not a costume Fitz. It's a uniform."
She says it like it makes all difference but, whether it's a costume or a uniform, it's doing something to Fitz that's making it more than a little difficult to swallow. Jemma seems to pick-up on his distraction because she slowly begins to move forward before coming to a stop a few scant inches away. The arms that had been crossed behind Jemma's back (which was doing rather interesting things to the cut and pull of her blouse) move to snake around Fitz's neck, tugging him closer to her and giving him a much better look at her rosy lips.
He doesn't actually get to look for long though because in the next moment said lips are pressing against his and Fitz finds himself shutting his eyes on impact.
Jemma Simmons excels at most things but, over the course of their six-month relationship, Fitz has decided that she excels the most at kissing. Kissing him to be more specific. Their innate synergy luckily transferred into the more… physical… aspects of their relationship and, as Jemma's tongue twines effortlessly with his own, Fitz can't help but shoot another thought of thanks up to those nameless gods.
She pulls away just as he's on the cusp of passing out from lack of oxygen but doesn't stray far, instead merely shifting her lips to his throat and nipping at the column of his neck. Fitz groans at the feeling, briefly worrying that the sweat and grime of his earlier mission might put Jemma off, but then his mind grows blissfully blank as her lips suck at his pulse point.
They don't stay long, pressing chaste kisses as Jemma makes her way to his hear, pulling his earlobe gently in her teeth before whispering, "There's one for you too."
It takes Fitz a moment to process her words, too busy focusing on the way her breath washes over his skin, but when he puts them into context with their earlier conversation, he blinks in confusion and pulls back slightly to get a better look at his girlfriend.
"Why… why are you… what's… me?!"
The smile that always seems to get him into trouble (in the absolute best kind of way) blooms across Jemma's face and Fitz's mouth drops open at the positively sultry look she gives him. Her eyes move from his face to his feet, pausing briefly somewhere in the middle, as she gives him a onceover and bites her lip in a way that makes Fitz want to bite it for her.
When her gaze meets his, Fitz feels a bit awestruck at the sight of her blown pupils and widens his eyes once more as she presses closer to him again, running a finger along his jaw as she says, "Yes you. You know I've always had a bit of a thing for the first Avenger. I've always thought you were quite similar to Steve Rogers."
A grin makes a slow crawl across Fitz's face as he takes in her words and the fact that her hands have shifted to scratch at the hair on the base of his neck. He'd learned pretty quickly that the head scratching was Jemma's move and that, coupled with the heated look she's giving him, makes Fitz realize that dear lord this is some sort of role play situation. He leans forward to press his lips to hers again, smiling as he takes in the fact that tonight Jemma is the one and only Peggy Carter and he's…
He pulls back abruptly, holding a startled Jemma at arms length and giving her an appalled look.
"Hang on… pre -serum Steve Rogers or Captain America Steve Rogers?"
Jemma's guilty look coupled with the deafening silence is all the answer Fitz needs and he lets out an indignant squawk at being compared to the scrawniest soldier in the history of the military. He moves away with a huff, side-stepping Jemma when she placatingly calls his name and moves to grab him, and begins to peel away the tactical gear that he'd worn for the mission.
He sits on their shared bed, tugging at his boots and tossing them in the corner before yanking his shirt off and standing to put it in the bin.
When he turns back around, he comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of Jemma. She's staring at him in a way that likely mirrors his own expression from when he first walked into the room and saw her.
Her eyes are fixed on his chest and Fitz looks down in confusion, wondering if he'd gotten a bruise or injury on the mission without realizing it. There's nothing there, not a single blemish on his pasty skin, and he looks back up in befuddlement, startling slightly at the fact that Jemma is now a mere foot away. Her eyes are still wandering around his torso and Fitz blushes slightly at the scrutiny of her gaze.
He flushes even more when Jemma's hand moves, gliding along his chest before moving flat against the back of his shoulders. He shivers at the heat that seems to follow her fingertips and lets his head fall forward against hers when her hands move back to his front, dipping low for a teasing moment, before reversing course and squeezing his biceps.
When he manages to sluggishly focus on her again, Jemma is staring at him as though he's one of her favorite gluten-free biscuits and Fitz once more finds swallowing to be a feat of Olympic-level proportions. Jemma's eyes focus on his bobbing Adam's apple and in the next second she's crashing her lips to his without warning, tugging him as she moves backwards, before spinning him around completely in favor of pushing him instead. Fitz allows himself to be led blindly, all previous irritation disappearing as Jemma does that thing she does with her tongue, and is surprised when his legs hit the edge of the bed.
Instead of pausing like they usually do, Jemma takes Fitz's moment of off-balance and forcibly pushes him so that he falls back onto the mattress with an embarrassing, "Oof." He doesn't even have a chance to be surprised by the quick shift before Jemma is sitting on top of him, kissing him with a passion that makes him lightheaded. Her lips glide over his for what feels like an eternity before they once again move to press against every bit of accessible skin.
He groans at the feeling and fists the comforter as Jemma leans back, arms bracketing his head and eyes a smoldering gold that could set him aflame, and huskily whispers, "Definitely not pre-serum," before diving back in and making Fitz realize that, with Jemma Simmons as his girlfriend, he'd rather be Leo Fitz than the first Avenger anyway.