This story takes place just after 1x07, The Hub.

Agents of Shield belongs to its fit for the field of awesome creators and ABC and Marvel :).

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Fitz and Simmons sat across from each other, taking turns setting down tiles on the Scrabble board. She was glad he was back from that ridiculously dangerous mission, glad he was safe.

"You shot him," Fitz marveled, not for the first time that evening and Simmons wished he'd stop.

"In the chest," she clarified, smiling awkwardly as she spelled out 'captured', the t overlapping the second of her previous 'tomatoes'.

"Wow," he said, almost to himself, once again sounding impressed as he scribbled down her score.

"Stop that," she scolded, her smile falling into a frown fitting her disapproval.

"Stop what?" he inquired, looking up from the notepad and raising his eyebrows at her expression.

"Stop making it sound as if I did something heroic," she replied impatiently. "Poor agent Sitwell-"

"Is perfectly fine," he finished, placing down his tiles, unconcerned. "And you did save me and Ward from being shot down by a small army of gunmen, in case you forgot. We wouldn't have made such a quick recovery, all holey like Swiss cheese. Bad guys don't have night night pistols Simmons." he muttered the last part irritably, as if she didn't know, as if he were remembering it.

She sighed, the features of her face shifting again, softening and she reached out to touch his hand, as she'd done earlier that day, fingers lightly resting on the side of it, interrupting his reach for the tile bag.

"I'm glad you're OK," she told him gently, eyes on his wrist for a moment before they rose to see that the corners of his mouth had lifted in a small smile which she returned before taking her hand back. "I know that that must have been scary for you," she continued, examining her tiles so she didn't notice that his smile faded and his eyes darkened. "You've never had any sort formal training in field work, if you'd been captured and..." but she didn't want to think about what Skye had said earlier so she used a different word. "...questioned, you wouldn't have know what to do... and they sent you out on a mission into enemy territory without an extraction plan, without any ability to communicate with us... it was completely unfair of them to expect so much of you."

"I wasn't afraid," he mumbled. "And I'm as good an agent as any." he defended, in a huff. "Just because I don't have thirty extra pounds of muscle and I can't take people out with my pinky doesn't mean I'm completely useless."

She'd offended him, she hadn't meant to do that. She hadn't meant to imply that he was incapable of doing his job. Poor silly, self-conscious Fitz, he didn't understand.

"I was," she murmured, joining 'safe' to 'captured' by the 'a'.

"What?" he grumbled, etching out her score, pressing the pencil against the pad a little too forcefully.

"I was afraid," she told him, staring at him until he met her gaze.

"Oh," he said, staring back, agitation departed.

For a few moments neither of them spoke and an uncomfortable silence diffused between them, filling the room like a fog.

"It's a perfectly natural reaction," she explained quickly, needing to dissipate it, not quite understanding why it was there. "To be frightened when facing the possibility of losing a loved one." His cheeks turned the colour of strawberries. Why was he blushing? What had she said? "I mean we've been friends for years," she sped on, hoping she hadn't offended him again, "best friends, and I couldn't imagine what it would be like without you. It'd be horrible... to lose you."

They'd stopped playing and he was staring at her, eyes narrowed, deep in thought, as they moved back and forth across her face.

Then he returned to the game and fit another word onto the end of 'tomatoes', 'sacrifice'.

"I have been afraid," he admitted, so quietly she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. "I was scared the whole time when I was out there with Ward- but that doesn't make me a coward-," he asserted, interrupting himself.

"Of course not," she agreed swiftly. "It makes you brave."

That brought a smile to his face again for a moment, before he continued. "And I was afraid before, for you, when you got sick..." he paused and she knew he was thinking again. She could tell when the metaphorical gears were turning in his head. "I don't want to lose you either," he whispered. "Can you promise me..." he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"What is it?" she asked, leaning towards him, tilting her head slightly as she tried to catch his eye.

"Can you promise me that I won't," he finished, meeting her gaze, suddenly seeming exposed and vulnerable, as if he'd held out his heart to her and was trusting her not to poke it too hard.

She'd never do that, never hurt him, but she wasn't sure she could promise him what he was asking her to.

"Fitz I'm a Shield agent," she objected gently. "I can't make you that kind of promise, you know that."

Her answer upset him, she could tell he was unhappy by the way he cast his gaze back down to his hands, picking at the skin around his fingers. She wished she could say yes, wished she could make him promise her the same thing, but the world didn't work that way.

Still she wanted to give him something, she needed something after what had happened that day, so she came up with her own promise, one she was sure they could both keep.

"But I will swear to protect you," she vowed, holding out her pinky for him. "No matter what happens I will always do my best to keep you safe. And you have to do the same for me OK?"

She knew he would, he didn't really need to wrap his pinky around hers for her to know he would always do whatever it took to keep her safe. He already had.

But he curled his little finger around hers anyway, a smile on his face that was more contagious than the common cold, and she was grateful for the feel of his skin on hers and the binding agreement it created between them.

"OK," he promised.