Written for FinnReyfitzsimmonsshipper who requested: "a hurt/comfort prompt where Simmons hurts her leg and Fitz goes nuts, and in all the craziness, they confess their love for each other."
Takes place at some point during the 6 months that we saw nothing of in the 3x22 finale.
They're stuck inside a storage closet, heavy breaths and the occasional whimper the only sounds audible in the small room, and Fitz feels his heart hammering in his chest as he tries to find something to set Jemma's leg.
The lone bulb overhead is flickering pathetically, casting a dull light that seems to accentuate the shadows more than it aids in seeing, and he lets out a frustrated groan as his eyes squint in the general direction of the supplies. He casts a worried glance over his shoulder at where Jemma is slumped against the adjacent wall and feels a trickle of sweat make its way down his brow as the faint sound of gunshots ring clearer than their proximity suggests they should. Even in the dim light, he can see the whiteness of the bone that is protruding from Jemma's leg, and makes a note to find a bucket to throw up in as soon as he figures out how to best help his partner.
She lets out another whimper, face grimacing in pain as her hands hover over her injury, and it spurns Fitz back into action. He snatches what he's pretty certain is a mop from the corner and doesn't think twice before snapping it across his knee, splitting the wooden handle in two pieces that will hopefully do a suitable enough job at whatever Jemma plans on having him do with them.
He moves quickly back towards her, hesitating for a moment as he takes in the standard door that's separating them from the chaos outside. He bites his lip in contemplation, wanting to help Jemma as quickly as possible while simultaneously concerned that he won't be much help at all if anyone on the other side of that door manages to get in. He quickly places the broom shards next to Jemma's leg, smacking a firm kiss to her forehead and squeezing her shoulder before turning back towards the shelving in the closet and beginning the process of shifting it to block the door.
It takes longer than he'd hoped, though shorter than he expected considering he had to move the near three-hundred pound cabinet by himself while making as little noise as possible, but soon enough the door is as blocked as it can be under the circumstances and he can focus his attention back on Jemma.
He kneels down, running a hand over her face and cringing at the sight of her tightly-shut eyes and the feeling of clammy skin beneath his fingers. They're in a bad spot, her more than him obviously, and Fitz has the sudden need to at least reaffirm that they're in a bad spot together. He gently grasps Jemma's head between his hands, waiting until her eyes sluggishly flutter open before moving forward and kissing her in a manner far too languid and tender than this situation might warrant.
"We'll be okay."
He whispers it against her lips, pulling back slightly to get a better look at her face and gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He can see a few stray tears making their way down her cheeks and wonders if it's fear or pain that has caused them. He assumes it's likely a bit of both, and is just about to pull away to see to her leg when Jemma grasps him by his shoulders and pulls him against her.
It's a bit awkward, due large in part to the fact that they're slumped on the floor and Fitz is trying to avoid causing Jemma any additional pain, but the hug still manages to cause an instant feeling of warmth to permeate its way through his body. Her grip around him tightens, as though she's worried that he'll vocalize his desire to put her physical needs before this physical contact, and it only takes one sniffle against his neck for Fitz to give in completely. Her leg shouldn't wait, but it can so Fitz clutches Jemma back just as hard, happily letting her tuck her head into the crook of his neck as he murmurs words of encouragement and affection in her ear and strokes her hair the way she likes.
They descend into a comfortable silence, both of their breathing becoming steadier and less shallow as they hold each other close, but Jemma makes a shifting movement that quickly pulls a hiss from her. The sharp inhale immediately has Fitz pushing himself away and shifting his attention back to the problem at hand.
From what he can tell, the break is a clean one that he should be able to temporarily tend to until Jemma receives proper medical attention. He hastily removes his button-down, shivering slightly in the cool air and silently thanking his past self for having the foresight to wear an undershirt, and begins ripping it into makeshift bandages. He's seen Jemma do this enough times to feel comfortable gauging the needed widths and lengths, but while she can perfectly execute a code that he'd done at the academy, Fitz needs a bit more guidance to recall her own careful techniques.
He looks up to find that Jemma's eyes are tightly shut again and her teeth are biting her lip hard enough that she'll soon draw blood. He moves his hand to grip hers tightly and leans forward to press another gently kiss against her hairline.
"Jem? Jemma hey, tell me what to do."
She takes another shuddering breath before sluggishly opening her eyes and Fitz feels something twist within him when he takes note of how pale she is. He watches as her eyes flit between the broken broom and the shredded shirt, taking in his handiwork and clearly processing the next step. Her grip on his hand tightens and her lip trembles in a way that makes it pretty evident that the next step will likely be as awful as Fitz assumed it would.
Jemma's words only confirm it.
"You're not going to like it."
-O-
He most decidedly does not like it.
At all.
The feeling of Jemma's bone shifting beneath his hands is traumatic enough but it's nothing compared to the muffled scream that she releases around a ball of fabric that she'd shoved into her mouth. The fact that he is the one responsible for the anguish that she's experiencing makes him feel sick and all Fitz can do to put an end to it is follow Jemma's instructions as quickly as possible.
He finishes wrapping her leg and ensuring that the makeshift splint will suffice before quickly moving to sit beside her and tug her against him. It takes everything he has not to retch and he focuses on doing what he can to bring Jemma's breathing back to normal. Her pained sobs slowly subside and he clutches her tightly as her fingers close tightly against his t-shirt. He can feel her heartbeat against his chest and can't help but be relieved when the hammering settles into something far less concerning.
He continues to murmur softly, stroking Jemma's hair and allowing her to grip his hand as tightly as she needs to, but it isn't until she removes the fabric from between her teeth and settles more comfortably against him that the tension in his body dissipates.
He knows that they're still in a bind, that they are certainly not out of the proverbial woods yet, but the fact that they are okay, that Jemma's leg is somewhat taken care of and that there's no immediate danger, causes Fitz to sigh in relief and allow his head to thud against the wall. The press of Jemma against him is more soothing than anything but the silence has him reflecting back on the day, more accurately the past few minutes, and causes him to shudder.
"Bloody hell. I love you Jemma, but if you ever make me do that again I swear I… what?"
She's looking at him in shock, mouth open and eyes watering once more, and Fitz worries that she might actually be in enough pain to be daft enough to actually believe the threat that he hadn't even finished making. He's about to brush of her concerns and inform her that he'd set every bone in her body every day for the rest of their lives should she need him to when she blinks again and croaks out, "You love me?"
The question causes a burst of laughter to escape him and Fitz has to slap a hand over his mouth to prevent the noise from drawing any unwanted attention to their location. He's still chuckling as he carefully tightens the makeshift bandages around her thigh, glancing back at her with a grin that falters immediately at the shock that is still fixed on Jemma's face.
"You love me?!"
The exclamation and the genuine surprise within it causes Fitz to blink in astonishment, mouth opening in confusion because…
"Of course I love you!"
He can't quite believe that this is something that would cause Jemma to look so dumbfounded, let alone that this conversation is taking place in a miniscule broom cupboard as they're hiding from enemy agents, and the fact that he must find this whole thing completely batty must be obvious because Jemma suddenly flails an arm against his chest and huffs, "Well excuse me but you've never actually said it."
His eyes widen at this and he suddenly wonders if all of his attempts at showing her haven't been quite as successful as he'd thought. He can feel his mouth opening and closing, not a single sound able to escape, and he feels himself panicking about how best to respond when Jemma barrels on.
"And of course I knew. Just like you know that I love you, right?"
His mouth drops open at the words and the air seems to whoosh from his lungs as he comes to understand Jemma's reaction to his confession. Because, yes, he knows that she loves him, they've loved each other for a decade after all, but this is different.
It's different to hear her say it, to hear those words said with such conviction and to know that they're being said to him.
She gives him a watery smile and in it Fitz sees the point that she's making. Knowing and knowing are two very different things and, while Fitz had been comfortable knowing the way Jemma feels about him… hearing her confirm it is everything. He shifts closer to her, pressing his forehead against her, and whispers it again.
"I love you Jemma Simmons."
The light bulb flickers again and Fitz can feel Jemma's smile more than he can see it. Her mouth presses against every bit of his face that she can reach in her restrained position and Fitz shivers at the feeling of her lips against his ear and shivers again when she whispers, "And I love you Leopold Fitz," against him.
Not much more needs to be said so Fitz luxuriates in the soft kisses they exchange and pulls Jemma against him when her movements begin to slow. They're silent for a long while, Jemma's finger moving in patterns across his chest, and Fitz is just realizing that it's become silent outside as well when Jemma shifts and breaks the quiet.
"I can't handle this anymore Fitz."
"Hmmm?"
Jemma shifts again, tilting her head up and gazing at him with clear eyes as she says, "This. Any of it, all of it. Everyday we're in danger or about to be and I… I can't do it anymore. If something were to happen to you I…"
Her voice begins to break and Fitz moves get a better look at her while softly running his hand along her cheek. "Hey, it's okay. We're okay."
It was meant to serve as a reassurance but the words seem to spark something in Jemma and she pushes herself up as best she can, meeting his gaze head on and unleashing the pent up feelings that Fitz has been carefully waiting for.
"But for how long? We wasted ten years Fitz. I don't want to waste another second."
He knows what she's getting at, her previous suggestion of a holiday in the Seychelles weighing heavily over them both in the time since, but, like those three words, he needs to hear it from her. He needs her to vocalize what she has been showing him for the past few weeks and months. He needs her to do it because he's not certain he has the courage to.
"What are you saying Jemma?"
A knock startles them both and Fitz can hear both Mack and May calling for them on the other side of the door. He wants to hit something, all to certain that the cosmos have once again prevented something important, but the feeling of Jemma's hand in his draws Fitz's attention back to her. There is a determination on her face and the look she gives him reaffirms that the cosmos can't stop Jemma Simmons.
Her gaze flickers to the door before her eyes return to his and she gives him a serious look before taking action.
"Do you still have Radcliffe's contact information?"