Rated T for mentions of sex.
"I can't, Simmons. That's the same day as my grandmum's eightieth birthday. I already promised Mum I'd be there; I can't miss it."
Jemma sighs. "I hate when our family events conflict with each other."
"It's the twenty-first century, Simmons, you can go to a wedding without a date."
"I know that, Skye," Jemma says, blushing, "But you've never been to a wedding in my family."
"I've never been to a wedding, period. Well, not one that I was invited to, anyway."
"Really?" Fitz asks in surprise, "You've never been to a wedding?"
"Well, I mean I've crashed a few receptions." She shrugs defensively; Fitz is gaping at her. "Food. Alcohol. Cute guys. Kind of a pull for a drifter like me. Anyway, enough about me. We have to find Simmons a date."
Simmons and Skye are struck with inspiration at the same time: "Ward."
"Well, he could do it, I suppose," Fitz grumbles.
As if on cue, the specialist enters the room. He twists the cap back on the water bottle he's holding and looks at all of them dubiously.
"What."
The three of them are looking at him in that way that never bodes well for him.
"Jemma needs a date," Skye says with determination. "And you're it."
"To a wedding," Fitz clarifies quickly, mostly because Ward looks like he is about to have an aneurysm. "You'd be standing in for me, mostly."
"You want me to impersonate Fitz?" he scans the younger man, "I could do that. Unless—has anyone at this wedding met Fitz? Because we're not even close to a physical match-"
"Not that kind of stand-in, weirdo," Skye says at the same time that Simmons exclaims, "No, it's nothing like that!"
Ward looks over at Simmons for a clarification and she sighs.
"In my family, one of our greatest social taboos is attending a wedding sans date. It is so antiquated and ridiculous, but when you do, you spend the whole time trying to avoid being felt up by the drunk groomsmen your family members keep trying to set you up with. So, I need a favor. Please go with me?" She gives him her most charming smile.
"Ok, I'll do it, but I have to warn you that I haven't been to very many weddings."
"See?" Skye throws out her arm to indicate Ward, "I'm not a complete freak."
"Complete savages, the both of you," Fitz says in response.
"You'll be fine," Simmons says to Ward. "Mostly you'll just have to stand there and look handsome."
He flips through pictures of her family.
"And this is your Aunt Victoria."
She glances down at the picture. "My great-aunt Elisabeth actually."
He frowns. "Oh."
He starts over at the beginning. "This is your cousin Fred. He's a bank president. Divorced. Three kids. Your fraternal uncle George. Doctor. Going to retire this year from his own practice. Has two kids-"
It's kind of frightening that he knows this much about her family, honestly.
"Ward. Please stop profiling my relatives like this is a mission."
He sets her phone back down. "Sorry."
She reaches for her phone and their hands brush. "Relax. It'll be fun."
Yeah. A mission where the only objective is distressingly vague: impersonating Simmons' boyfriend. A mission where he does not have the option to either start shooting or get out if it all goes wrong. It'll be fun alright.
He glances at his watch. He's a little early. He debates going back to his room, then decides against it. Simmons doesn't strike him as the kind of girl who will take too long to get ready. She's probably ready now.
He knocks on the door.
She's not.
He just stands awkwardly in the doorway, taking in the way her dress is falling off her shoulders, and her bare feet pad across the floor.
"Should I come back?"
"No need. Can you...?" She gestures to her back.
"Oh. Yes." He steps forward and reaches for the zipper.
"And this, please?" She holds up her necklace.
He manages to fasten the clasp at last, his clumsy fingers fumbling the basic action. The brush of her soft skin against his fingers doesn't help at all.
She steps away from him and twirls. "Well?"
He smiles. "You look very nice, Jemma."
She beams and takes his arm. "Shall we go?"
"You might want your shoes," he answers with amusement.
Her face turns a very sweet shade of pink.
He keeps a protective arm around her waist, hand resting gently on her hip. He keeps a wary eye on the groomsmen. Just in case any of them decide to try anything.
Perhaps it's Jemma who makes it easy, but he's not finding this favor to be so bad.
He's getting used to the feeling of her at his side, the way her smile looks from so close, the way her hair brushes his face when she tilts her head back and laughs—which is often, he's glad to say.
He should maybe get un-used to it.
"Love, your aunt wants to steal you for a few minutes for some family photos."
"Oh, of course."
Jemma stands up, setting her napkin down on the table. "I'll be back, Ward."
"I'll be right here."
She gives him a look that he can't quite identify, but she only softly says, "I know."
He doesn't know what she means.
He watches her go, acutely aware of how her absence seems to change the very air around him.
Jemma reappears at his elbow. "Oh, I love this song!"
He lets her pull him onto the dance floor, but as she moves to the music, he stands rigidly in front of her.
"Ward?" She stops dancing. "What's wrong?"
"I don't dance."
She looks up at him in bemusement. "I distinctly remember a mission where you waltzed."
"That was disciplined, ordered. This is-"
"Fun?"
"I was going to say chaotic."
The music changes to a slow song then and couples draw closer, swaying to the rhythm. Jemma wraps her arms around his neck, even though she has to stand on her tiptoes to do so.
"Is this better?" she asks. "Orderly enough for you?"
Yes. No. His heart starts thudding in a treacherously fast rhythm. As carefully as he can, he pulls himself a little back from her so that their bodies aren't quite as close together.
The night wears on. They send the bride and groom off into their wedded life together and the crowd begins to dissipate. Jemma flits from family member to family member, saying her goodbyes, taking Ward with her as she does.
When she's finished, they head out of the ballroom. He is suddenly keenly aware that he is holding her hand. He wonders when that happened.
Jemma yawns sleepily. It's after midnight now.
"We should turn in. To our separate beds, er, rooms."
"Come up to my room."
He is certain he heard her wrong. "What?"
She steps around in front of him and takes his other hand in hers. "Come. Up. To. My. Room."
"Jemma. I'm not sure that-"
"Why? And don't say it's because you don't sleep with people on your team. I'm not stupid."
"No, that's not it. What about Fitz?"
"Fitz and I have never slept together, although I fail to see how that's relevant."
"No, I meant—aren't you, don't you—won't he-"
"Fitz and I are not a couple," she replies. She reaches a hand up to fiddle with the knot of his tie. "Now shut up and kiss me."
He does.
He likes it. A lot, actually.
"That was nice," she sighs, "I've been wanting you to do that all evening."
"Really?"
"Yes. Wasn't it obvious?"
"Not...really?"
She sighs again. "You're hopeless."
"So, I've been told, but," he scoops her up in his arms and carries her towards the elevator, "I'm not so bad at following directions."
She giggles.
As the doors close, he kisses her again.
This kiss is less tentative and exploratory. They almost forget to get off the elevator when the doors ding open on their floor.
"Are you sure?" he asks one last time as they drop into her bed.
Her only reply is to pull him closer and deepen her kiss.
He wakes to bright sunlight streaming in through the hotel curtains. He is wondering if he dreamed the night before when a familiar voice interrupts his thoughts.
"Good morning, handsome."
He smiles. "Good morning, beautiful."
She blushes at the compliment. It just makes her look prettier, if that's possible.
He leans over to kiss her hair and then the tip of her nose, followed by a kiss to her lips which she happily returns.
After a few minutes, she slips out from under his arms with a laugh. "I have to shower. We're meeting my parents for brunch in a hour."
He freezes. "We?"
"They invited you to join us. I'm sorry, I forget to tell you."
He had met them the night before at dinner. At the time, he'd been very focused on keeping his cover as Simmons' date. Now he's afraid that they'll just know about the time he's spent with their daughter. And by time, he means last night. And by last night, he means-
Jemma squints at him. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I've just never done parents before. Won't they care that we-" he gestures to indicate the bed, "You know..."
"Ward." She peeks her head back around the bathroom door frame. "I'm a grown woman. My parents have absolutely no say over how or with whom I spend my nights."
He's not sure that makes him feel any better.
It's just her parents.
He's had meals with heads of international crime families; he can do breakfast with parents.
He just has to focus on not blurting out "I slept with your daughter."
Shouldn't be that hard.
"How did you sleep?" Jemma's mother asks politely.
Ward chokes on his orange juice. Jemma pats his back. "We slept fine, thank you."
After their flight back home takes off, Jemma leans over and rests her head on his shoulder.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
He puts his arm around her shoulders.
"No, but you owe me," he teases.
"Oh?" she raises her eyebrows, "What am I going to have to do to repay you?"
He moves the armrest out of his way and pulls her into his lap.
"I'm sure I'll think of something."
"Well," Skye greets them as they step onto the Bus, "How was it? Was Ward an acceptable substitute?"
"Yes," Simmons replies with a sidewise mischievous look for Ward, "He was quite an adequate date."
"He wasn't too weird or awkward?" Skye asks with a trace of dubiousness in her tone.
"Hey!" Ward protests.
"No, he was perfect," Jemma says with a smile.
"So," he teases a few minutes later when they're alone in her bunk under the guise of him carrying her suitcase for her, "I got upgraded from adequate to perfect, huh?"
"Well, I do owe you a favor. That seemed like a good start..."
He laughs and pulls her into an embrace. "Shut up and kiss me."
She does.
-end-
A/N: So, recently there was a push on Tumblr to write platonic Ward and Simmons. And I was like, good, I like platonic Ward and Simmons. I will write a cute platonic fic where Ward fills in for Fitz as Jemma's date at a wedding. ...And then I went and wrote a sexy, very much not platonic at all Biospecialist fic. I don't know what happened. Help. ((Also, I am so bad at writing kissing scenes. So bad. I'm sorry.))