"Shh, that's it," he whispers, deft fingers stroking through sweat damp hair. She doesn't answer at first, simply turning her head into his hand until his short nails and calluses scale along her scalp. She's nearly dizzy with it all, breath coming up in short pants and gasps, her tongue dry in her mouth. "C'mon, one more," he says, the scent of mint and vanilla from his toothpaste fluttering over her face.
"I can't," she moans, eyes closed as she feels his lips descent into her forehead. She aches from exertion, her body tired and strung out as she is awash with conflicting sensations. She feels him chuckle against her sweaty skin, his mouth peppering kisses down the side of her face as he smiles.
"Yes you can," he murmurs, voice full of conviction. She shakes her head feeling the way her hair catches on the cotton pillowcase beneath her, a drop of sweat rolling down her neck until it catches in the dip of her clavicle.
"Fitz," she whimpers, tears clinging to her lashes as she squeezes her eyes closed, her forehead wrinkling from the force of it. She feels numb and hypersensitive all at once, her skin crawling with electricity while her muscles spasm and cramp.
"I've got you," he breathes, the hand that has been in her hair moving down her neck, over her shoulder, and down her arm until he laces their fingers together. "You can do it. One more. C'mon Jemma."
She shakes her head again, screaming a heartbeat later as her body alights, her back arching up off the thin mattress, hand clenching tight against the digits that are interwoven with her own.
She collapses backward a moment later, his hand supporting her back as a second cry fills the room.
Tiny and watery.
New.
Her eyes snap open immediately, arms reaching for the squirming infant that is placed on her belly, it's face scrunched up as it struggles to blink at them.
"Oh. Oh hello," she says, voice breaking on a sob as trembling fingers cradle the child against her skin, pulling it higher up until she can hold the baby tight to her chest. She can feel Fitz's lips against her temple, kisses pressed against her every few seconds as his hand comes to join her's on the back of their child.
"It's a girl," the doctor's voice says, a million miles away as Jemma desperately tries to take in each and every detail of her daughter. She can feel Fitz crying against the side of her face, his hand shaking more than it has in years as he strokes a gentle finger down their daughter's spine.
"You did it Jems," he smiles, watching the baby calm, her breath coming in tiny hiccups as Jemma counts fingers and toes, heart pounding in her chest. "I knew you could." She can't help but turn her face to him quickly, capturing his lips in a kiss that is salty from tears and sweat but overwhelmed with love.
"We have a baby," she says, unable to suppress the giggle that escapes her as her eyes wander back down to the newborn. Fitz chuckles, dropping kisses onto the crown of her head while the baby grabs at his finger, clinging tightly.
"We do," he agrees, voice betraying how smitten he is already with the child. How amazed.
She's never been happier.