Chapter Text
With her hair fluttering gently about her face in a breeze, Jemma Simmons opened her brown eyes. She blinked slightly in the unexpected brightness, but as soon as she got her bearings, she breathed out a sigh of pure awe. Everywhere she looked, the land simply flourished. The air was thick with the natural perfume of a jasmine vine that twisted and snaked along the fence, and the grass that grew in dizzying maze patterns around her feet was lush and green. In the dusk, fireflies glittered amongst the flowers and evergreen bushes, their light twinkling on and off, and the whole setting looked properly ethereal. A fountain of marble gurgled happily beside her, and in the distance she thought she could hear the faint tinkling of a piano. She smiled and let the serenity wash over her, closing her eyes again to properly revel in it.
Suddenly, breaking the tranquility, something beeped. Jemma jumped rather abruptly, and her eyes fell to a small device on the bench beside her. Frowning, but not yet worried, she picked it up, puzzled in the realization that it had not been there a moment before. In her hands, the device was a pleasant weight, rounded softly on either end, not unlike a chicken egg in size or shape. It beeped and beeped, and Jemma raised it to level with her curious eyes, trying to figure it out.
"Hello." A voice spoke, happily.
Letting out a squeak, Jemma promptly dropped the device in surprise, and she thought she heard it grunt as it landed in the perfectly rounded pebbles at her feet. "Ouch." It said.
Scrambling, Jemma reached down and picked it up. "Sorry." She apologized, lifting the device to her lips. Confused, she was unsure where to speak into the device, as she could see no blemishes on its surface to signify a speaker or recorder.
"My name is Jarvis." The device said, and though it was incorporeal, Jemma was immediately struck by how pleasant the voice was: much like a customer service employe. "Welcome to the System."
"Thank you." Jemma responded.
"Before we begin, it is protocol to do a full biometric scan of your brainwaves. To consent, please say 'I consent.'" Jarvis instructed her.
"I consent." She repeated.
In her hands, a nearly invisible panel on the surface of the egg-like device slid open, revealing a black screen. Eyebrows creasing in curiosity, Jemma leaned closer to it, trying to get a glimpse of the mechanical substructure. Then, upon the screen, several red lines appeared in a grid pattern, growing brighter and brighter with every second. Intuitively, Jemma knew that these lines were completing her biometric brain scan, and she tried to stay as still as possible. With a final beep, the device's screen blackened again, and Jarvis spoke.
"Scan complete." He announced. "Thanks to this scan, I now have full access to your brain's synapses. As your System coach, I will work alongside you to ensure that you find your True Match, compiling data from a variety of strategic romantic exploits."
Jemma nodded, quite curious about the science behind the particular interface program. It had to be extremely complicated to house all of her sensitive information in such a compact device. She got to thinking about the biometric scans and the wiring, but after a brief moment, she swallowed her burning questions. Surely it wasn't protocol to want to take apart her device, and Jarvis might not appreciate the thought. As she sat on the stone bench with her new companion, a light breeze fluttered past her and through her blouse. The thin fabric did little to stem the chill that the breeze produced, and she watched goosebumps erupt all the way up her pale arms.
"Right now, you are cold." Jarvis's voice said.
"Read my brainwaves to tell me that, did you?" She joked, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
"Yes." Jarvis answered honestly.
"Right." Jemma responded, deciding that though extremely advanced, her coach seemed to lack a sense of humor. "Well, if I don't have a match, I'd quite like to-"
The device beeped, and the screen flashed a pleasant blue. In faint white lettering, the name 'Leo Fitz' glowed. "Your first match has been selected. Please proceed to table 35 at the System's Hub." Jarvis announced, proudly.
"Oh, that soon?" She asked, impressed. "Excellent."
She stood, and her body rejected the sudden movement. She couldn't quite remember how long she had been sitting on the stone bench, surrounded by the lush Japanese garden, but judging by the aching in her bones, it had been quite a while. She stretched widely, regretting that she would have to leave the serene place behind. It really did look lovely, sitting happily upon a backdrop of deep purple and streaks of pink across the setting sky. Though she felt as though she had been resting in the low evening light for ages, the night was only just beginning to blink with starlight from the East. Breaking her from her thoughts, fairy lights sparkled on beside her, illuminating a pebbled pathway and, hopefully, in the direction of her romantic exploit.
She followed the path for quite a ways, across a well-maintained grassy field and under a massive stone wall that seemed to stretch all the way to the heavens. Though the path looked well-traveled, she met no one else on her way, and the loneliness of it filled her up. She could hear her every echoing footstep off the immense wall. "Jarvis?" She asked, her voice sounded nervous. "Am I going the right way?"
"You are going the right way." He confirmed. "Please proceed to table 35."
"Okay."
As she walked, Jemma found a quiet solace in science. Doing the sums in her head quickly, she considered the scientific improbability of a true System match. What kind of algorithm, she asked herself, could really simplify love into data? Another, less rational part of her felt jittery with excitement, optimistic at the thought of a finding a soulmate.Soulmate.Even the word tasted like honey on Jemma's tongue, and she promptly abandoned her previous concerns to rely entirely on the System. It boasted a 99.9% success rate, she reminded herself. Surely was more complex than Jemma would ever understand.
Finally, Jemma reached a large building with a large sign that read 'The Hub,' and she knew that she had arrived at her destination. It was architecturally modern, and shaped like a massive nest that wrapped all the way around the courtyard. In the low evening light, the windows glowed from inside with a yellow lamplight, silhouetting couples at dinner. She could make out their shapes as they overlooked beautiful views of the gardens that Jemma had just passed through. Her heart flipped with nerves, wondering if her soulmate was inside.
She passed through large mahogany double-doors into a romantic restaurant. A pleasant hostess took her device from her hand and passed it underneath a scanner, where it beeped and turned green like a traffic light. Satisfied, the hostess handed the device back to Jemma and led her purposely over to a table that was laden with red roses and low-burning candles. Jemma smiled graciously as the woman left her side, and she settled rather nervously into her chair. All around her, couples ate and the sound of cutlery on plates and flirtatious laughter filled her senses. As far as she could see, Jemma was the only woman sitting on her own. She raised her device to her mouth and whispered, "Jarvis? Am I in the right place? He's not here yet."
"You are in the right place." Jarvis confirmed.
Jemma nodded, and tried to squash the nerves that rose in her throat. She cast her eyes around the restaurant for distraction, and found many. The restaurant was incredible; a wide patio with glowing fire pits stretched seemingly for miles, and the red and orange color scheme of the wallpaper were subtle romantic reminders of the purpose of the System. However artificial the circumstances, the amorous aura hung on the very air and seeped into Jemma's skin. She felt immediately underdressed looking at the other women; she spotted several pairs of diamond earrings sparkling in the candlelight, and wondered why she hadn't changed out of her Doc Marten boots and button down into something more formal. She frantically raised her hand to her hair and tried to comb out any tangles with her fingers.
"You are nervous." Jarvis spoke.
"Of course I'm nervous." She hissed. "Who wouldn't be? I'm about to meet a potential soulmate."
"If it is any comfort," Jarvis explained, "first dates are rarely true matches. They serve mainly as a baseline for data collection."
"It is, a bit. Thank you." Jemma replied.
Heartbeat spiking, Jemma watched the hostess lead a man towards them. Mouth going dry, Jemma watched nervously before he was decidedly led off in another direction. "How will I know if it's him?" Jemma asked.
"This is him." Jarvis responded. The screen of her device lit up, showing her the image of a man running down the brightly lit path to the restaurant. "He is running late."
"Quite literally." Jemma noted, before the video stream was shut off.
Knowing that her match was well on his way, Jemma tried to relax into her chair. Looking around her, she decided she very much liked the way the white curtains billowed in a light breeze, and how the smell of meat sizzling in red wine filled the entire restaurant. It was quite a nice place for a first date, she thought.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps filled the room and Jemma looked up to see a man running in, his cheeks flushed from the effort of sprinting. He made a beeline straight for her table and stopped short of running straight into it. "Sorry." He managed, breath heaving and eyes streaming from exertion. He leaned over, placing his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. Watching with mild fascination, she waited for him to regain his physical strength and mental faculties before speaking. Just as Jemma was about to open her mouth, the hostess from earlier hurried to their table, her polite face verging on one of annoyance.
"Sir, you are not allowed to dine with someone who isn't your System-Approved match. Please surrender your device-"
"She's mine!" He assured her, then blushed and fumbled to correct himself. "I mean, she's not mine, she's the match, I meanmymatch, bloody hell-"
Tips of his ears turning crimson, the man surrendered his device to the hostess, one identical to Jemma's, and watched with a hint of nerves in his blue eyes as the woman passed it under a scanner. Finally, the device beeped and turned green, and the woman looked up. "Apologies, sir. Do enjoy your date."
"Thanks." He replied.
The hostess left back to her stand, and the man turned rather nervously to Jemma. Jemma had watched the scene unfold with a barely contained mirth, and had placed her hand in front of her mouth to keep from laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of it. She tried to tell herself firmly that it wasn'tthatfunny, not the way in which he had arrived, nor the obvious embarrassment at having misspoken, nor the over-dramatic reaction of the restaurant staff. But her nerves had finally found a catalyst, and suddenly she was giggling like a schoolgirl. A moment later, he joined in, and the two of them were laughing loudly.
"Gosh, I'm sorry." He chuckled, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.
She waved a hand in dismissal, still laughing too hard to respond.
"That must have been quite the sight, me running in like an absolute madman, guns blazing-"
She kept laughing, clutching at her now aching stomach as the scene replayed itself in her mind. He laughed too, throwing his head back. They both drew the curious eyes of some other couples in the restaurant, but Jemma hardly cared. For the first time that night, Jemma was at ease, and it was all due to her ridiculous date.
With streaming eyes, she finally managed to speak. "I'm Jemma Simmons."
"I'm bloody embarrassed." He smiled, shaking his head.
"Nice to meet you, Bloody Embarrassed." She joked.
"Oh, God, no." He rolled his eyes, and his smile widened. "I'm Leo Fitz, but I just go by Fitz."
"I like Bloody Embarrassed better." She giggled, cheeks so tight from smiling that they hurt.
"Course you do." He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and shook his head. "Anyway, I'm sorry I'm late. Got lost somehow on anilluminatedpath, my device was going absolutely mad at me-"
"Don't worry about it." She relieved him. "I wasn't here long."
He sighed, looking grateful. "Good. Well, just so you know, I was going to pull the chair out for you and everything, but you beat me to it."
"Grand romantic gesture." She raised an eyebrow, grinning.
"Exactly. I was going to sweep you off your feet, and say something really smart-"
"Next time, you'll just have to run faster, I guess." She teased him.
"I guess so."
The conversation pittered out and Jemma realized that she had been flirting,shamelessly flirtingwith an absolute stranger. Stiffening, she tried to fix her posture and school her features into something more acceptable for a first date. In all the confusion of his entrance, they had barely stopped to look at each other, so she did now, her eyes falling on his like they were drawn together by magnets. His were startlingly blue, the kind of blue that was usually reserved for springtime skies and sapphires, and she suddenly felt rather exposed by his piercing gaze. Grasping for distraction from them, her gaze fell instead to what he was wearing, and she was pleasantly surprised by the casualness he exuded. He wore a light green button down, tucked into a pair of dark slacks that brushed the tops of his worn-leather shoes. The light stubble on his cheeks did little to hide the rather eternal boyish quality of his cheeks, but his blond hair caught the candlelight and turned positively gold. Eyes meeting his again, she felt her cheeks reddening. His damneyeswere so captivating, she felt her heartbeat quickening beneath her skin. He was handsome, undeniably so, and until that very moment she hadn't quite realized how much. Judging by the way he was looking at her, she thought that he might have arrived on the very same conclusion. He pulled his chair out with a scrape and settled into it, squishing his hands in between his legs, nervously.
"So." She shifted, awkwardly.
"So." He repeated, something about her nervousness reflected in his eyes. His shoulders were slumped forward slightly, like he was embarrassed.
"I have to tell you something." She grimaced, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Oh?"
"You're my first." She admitted.
"Oh?" His voice rose an octave.
"On the System, I mean." She blushed furiously. "I've never donethisbefore." She gestured between them.
"Neither have I." Admitted Fitz, some tension flooding from his shoulders. "I'm so nervous-"
"God, me too-"
"And bloody starving. Wouldn't have blamed you if you had started without me." He told her, before looking around to catch the eye of a server. Successfully flagging one down, he turned back to her with a warm smile.
"I seriously considered it." She jested. "Do you even know how we order?"
"I reckon it's with these." He gestured to their devices. "Oi, Enoch, how do we-"
"Your order is part of a larger System-selected menu. It should be arriving shortly." Though similarly incorporeal like Jarvis, Fitz's coach was Scottish, like him.
"Brilliant." Fitz said, putting his device back in his pocket. Mirroring him, Jemma slid her device out of sight. "I hope it's steak." He mused.
"Mmm. I'd kill for a Salade Niçoise." She agreed.
As if on cue, a waiter appeared beside them and placed two steaming ceramic plates of food on the table, and then poured each of them a generous portion of red wine. "Thank you." Jemma muttered, impressed. Catching Fitz's eye under the arm of their server as he leaned across the table, Jemma stifled a giggle. It was clear from the glee written plainly on his face that he could barely wait to start.
"Enjoy." The server nodded curtly, then left the two of them to their food.
Perhaps Jemma should not have been surprised when she looked down at her plate and saw a massive niçoise salad, topped with eggs, tuna, and anchovies, but she was. Glancing across the table to Fitz, she was impressed by the sheer size of his steak and mushrooms, and the heaping portion of mashed potatoes. "It's like they read our minds." She stated, grabbing a fork.
"I think they did. The biometric scans of our brain waves log all the data for the System. It's almost creepy, but," he paused, taking a huge bite and his eyes rolled back in pleasure. "Right now, I couldn't care less. This is so good."
"Looks good." She agreed, tucking into her own. "Mmm."
"How is your salad?" He asked.
"Incredible." She said, taking another bite. "I've loved salade niçoise since I was a little girl on holiday in France with my parents. This is almost as good as that was."
He smiled, but it was difficult when his mouth was full. He swallowed and shrugged. "I don't have a story about my food. I just love steak."
"Good enough." She smiled. "It looks delicious."
"Want to try?" He asked, cutting into a piece and stabbing it with his fork. He lifted it gently off the plate, his other hand hovering underneath to keep any sauce drips from hitting the tablecloth.
Her eyes widened. "Absolutely."
He grinned as he passed the fork over the table to her, and she took a bite. The juices were incredible, and she hummed. Hiding her chewing behind her hand, she said, "That is really good."
"I hope that was allowed." He said, almost nervously. "I think that hostess wanted to kill me when I came in here before."
"Oh, Fitz." She managed to roll her eyes. "It's food sharing, not System-wide rebellion."
"I guess you're right. But if this steak asked, I'd probably rebel the System for it. I love it." He took another massive bite.
"Wow." She said, pretending to be hurt. "I'm starting to feel like a third wheel. I'll just leave you for your steak, shall I?"
"Ha ha." He said, sarcastically.
"So." She raised her wine glass to her lips. "What do you do, Fitz?"
They launched easily into conversation after that, like two old friends reconnecting for the first time in ages. What struck her most about Fitz as they talked and laughed and joked was that his intelligence managed to shine through the cracks as he talked, detailing complex processes of rocket design or fluid mechanics with ease. He was a good storyteller, kind, and endearingly awkward. He was also a wonderful listener; she never felt that their conversation was one sided or tipping in either of their favors. They shared the spotlight effortlessly, and as she talked Jemma felt as though layers of herself were crumbling off of her body and falling to the hardwood floors below. She wondered if, well,hoped, that he felt the same. The gentle reflection of her mind in his was a wonderful experience to behold, and as their dinner grew cold and as their wine glasses emptied, she had the overwhelming feeling that she was standing on the edge of a great precipice, poised for flight beside him. It was like they already knew each other, and Jemma was astounded at how comfortable she was in his company.
But soon, far too soon, the waiter who had served them so long ago reappeared at their table and told them that the restaurant was closing.
"Right, yeah, sorry." Fitz reached into his pocket for a wallet, and his eyebrows creased in confusion when he didn't find it.
"Your dinner is paid for, sir." The server assured him. "It is part of the System."
Jemma raised her eyebrows, impressed.
"Well, thank you." Fitz said, graciously. "It was delicious."
"Have a wonderful night, sir. Miss." The server bowed politely, and both Jemma and Fitz stood.
Time had gone so fast, she was startled to see that the rest of the restaurant's tables had been cleared and wiped down for the night, the chairs already flipped upside down on top of the bare tables. As they left, Fitz smiled in apology at the restaurant staff for dawdling so long.
Soon they were enveloped in the cool night air, and as they walked Jemma raised her eyes to the sky. It was a beautiful, clear night, albeit a bit chilly. The faint outline of the Milky Way was visible over the tops of the trees that lined their walkway, and Jemma smiled at the splendor of it all. Pointing it out to Fitz as they walked the softly lit path to the apartments, she watched him smile in her periphery.
"Sometimes it's so strange." He said, craning his neck to look up. "To see how small we are."
"We're not so small." She said. "They're made of hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen . . . just like us. We're stardust, Fitz."
Fitz looked back down at her, with a softly affectionate look that flushed Jemma's chest with warmth from the inside out. She wondered if he evenknewhe did that, staring so reverently at her. "Anyway." She shifted, awkwardly. "Don't get me started on science or the stars. I'll never shut up."
"I might have to get you started." He told her, genuinely. "I like listening to you."
If it had not been so dark, Jemma was sure that he would have seen her cheeks flush. As she was about to open her mouth to speak, a breeze sighed through the trees and ruffled her hair and blouse. She shivered unconsciously, hating herself for being so naturally cold-blooded.
"You're cold." He noticed.
"I'm fine." She assured him, but he had already pulled his coat off his own shoulders, and tried to hand it to her. "No really, you don't need to-"
"I want to." He pushed the jacket into her hands, kindly. It was navy blue and quite warm beneath her fingers. "I couldn't pull the chair out for you, so at least give me this."
She sighed, biting down on her cheeks to keep from smiling at his gallantry. "If you insist."
She pulled it over her shoulders, and tried not to sigh as warmth flooded her body once more. But there was something else, something distinctly affectionate about his gesture that warmed her too. "So," she said, looking back at him. "Where do you reckon-- what?"
He was looking at her again with his penetrating blue gaze, and then he smiled and shook his head like he was clearing water from his ears. "Nothing. You look nice, is all."
She smiled, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you. It's a smart jacket."
"My mum bought it."
"Thank her for me." Jemma grinned.
They continued along their path, making delightfully easy conversation. The way was lit with pale gold fairy lights, and with every step, Jemma almost wished that they would never arrive anywhere, and that they could just walk together forever. Soon, though, they reached a small neighborhood of simple houses, all signified with a large metal number on the front porch. "How will we know which is ours?" Jemma asked, baffled by how similar all the homes looked.
Suddenly, both of their devices beeped in their pockets, and Jemma pulled hers out to see a number nine glowing on the screen. She looked at his, and it read the same. "Just a guess," he stated, sarcastically. "But I'm betting it's number nine."
"You're a proper genius." Jemma teased him. "What'll you think of next?"
"Working on world peace." He played along. "Another few days should crack it."
She laughed and they walked just a few streets longer until they found a simple house with a number nine posted outside. There was no knob on the door as they approached it, only a small panel beside the door with a glowing handprint.
"Will you open it, or shall I?" He asked, settling beside her and leaning his shoulder nonchalantly on the doorframe. He was so close that she stiffened, her stomach filling with nervous butterflies.
"Go on, then." She told him. He moved to put his hand on the screen to open it, but before he could Jemma stuck her own hand out. The door beeped, and Jemma heard it unlatch.
"You cheater." He bemoaned, playfully. Pulling the door open, he peeked his head in, looking slightly nervous. Jemma watched his face for any reactions to the inside, and her stomach sank when his face fell. "Oh no." He sighed.
"What?" She asked, worriedly. "What is it?"
"It's a shithole." He told her, sadly.
"No." She whined. "You're kidding."
His face lightened with mirth. "I am, yeah."
As he pushed the door open with a chuckle, she let her mouth fall open in exasperation at his joke. They both shuffled inside, then stopped as they took in their new living quarters. The sight inside was a welcome one; the room was decorated in a modern style, like most other things that she'd seen in the System's base, and was all geometric shapes and bright colors. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and there was a complimentary bottle of wine atop a gleaming metal countertop that was just begging to be uncorked. The couches in the living area were plush and comfortable looking, and Jemma smiled warmly at Fitz beside her.
He smiled back, and Jemma left his side to stride leisurely through the small quarters, impressed. The System had really outdone itself; this place was pristine, and practically dripping with romantic energy. It was all low lighting and warm colors, and smooth jazz played unbidden on the speakers in the walls. Jemma rounded a corner and her eyes fell upon a massive bed, covered in thick blankets, and suddenly Jemma had no space in her mind for any emotion other than nervousness. "There's just one bed." She announced, trying to keep her voice level.
"What?" He asked, turning from a complex wall panel that he'd been fiddling with. "Just one?"
"Yeah." She confirmed. "Come see for yourself."
He walked purposely to her side, and even though they weren't touching she could feel him beside her where he stopped. It made her skin tingle warmly to be so close to him. "Right." He said, sounding equally nervous. "That's a bit suggestive, isn't it?"
"A bit."
The silence hung between them and Jemma loathed it. They had spent the last few hours in delicious conversation, and now with the not-so-subtle System suggestion they sleep together, all relaxation had been thrown out the window. "Well, I'm going to say what we're both thinking." He announced.
Nerves ignited on her skin as a million thoughts ran through her head. "Oh?"
"This placeisa total shithole." He replied, deadpan.
Laughter bubbled out from inside her, and they were both chuckling again. Jemma was grateful for his joke; she found her anxiety dissipating slightly as they laughed together.
"Honestly, though." He said, after their laughs subsided. "I don't want you to feel . . . nervous, or anything." He scratched at the back of his neck. "I'm not going to, I don't know,forcemyself on you. I can take the couch."
"Oh, Fitz." She smiled. "Don't be silly. It's plenty big for the two of us."
"Are you sure?" He asked. "Because I really wouldn't mind-"
"I'm sure." She interrupted gently. "I mean, if youwant, we can talk about sex-" She said, as Fitz sputtered, ears reddening. "But I'm not ready yet, anyway, and from the color of your cheeks, it doesn't look like you are either. When it happens,ifit happens, I'd rather it happened naturally." She explained, trying desperately not to blush. "Not out of some...perceived obligation."
"Me too. Not that I wouldn't like to- you know, I mean, you are beautiful, and I can think of worse things-" He stuttered.
"Fitz." She stopped him. "I'd like it too. But not yet."
"Not yet." He echoed.
"We've got plenty of time." Jemma told him.
"Right."
Jemma looked out the front window, and saw the sky alight with stars. She heard the fire roaring in the hearth and the jazz music from the speakers. She looked at the soft blankets and pillows on the bed, and then to the bottle of wine on the counter. Finally, she snuck a glance back to Fitz beside her, who was worrying at his bottom lip and looking lost in thought. With that conversation out of the way, she was quite excited to spend the night by Fitz's side.
"Well, why don't you find some glasses for that." Jemma gestured to the wine. "And I'll change into my pyjamas. And we can talk about something other than sex. Dielectric polarization, perhaps?"
He grinned, his reverie breaking. "Okay."
Jemma went to the drawer on the side of the bed, and pulled it open to find a neatly folded pair of blue silk pyjamas that looked to be her exact size. Placing her device on the bedside table, she slipped quietly into the bathroom and changed. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she gave herself a little smile, egging herself on. This wasFitz; she had nothing to worry about.
Minutes later, she emerged almost cautiously from the bathroom, and in her absence Fitz had managed to change too. He looked very comfortable in his white t-shirt and flannel bottoms where he sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her. He looked up as she came out, and the deep blue of his eyes was almost unnerving. Then he smiled, and she smiled back, sliding onto the bed beside him. He handed her a full wineglass, which she accepted gratefully.
"So." He smiled.
"So." She echoed, playfully.
He grinned, and then almost effortlessly they were launched into conversation of the same caliber that they had been at the restaurant. They talked about the System and its complex engineering, managing to get sensitive biological information stored in an incredibly compact device. They talked about their childhoods before registering for the System, their parents, their hobbies, and their flaws. The clock on their bedside table clicked merrily away, neither of them ever stopping to breathe. Soon their wine ran out, and so Fitz left to put their glasses in the sink, and then returned only to start ceaseless conversation up again. Soon, both of them were laying on their backs and watching the ceiling fan, talking endlessly. Jemma couldn't remember a time when she had felt so close to someone else; it was almost as if they already knew each other.
"Must have been mental." Fitz was saying. "Before the System."
"How do you mean?" She asked.
"Never knowing who your match was. Imagine being a poor sod who's in love with his best friend, but doesn't think they'd be romantically compatible. And then imagine she felt the same. They'd both waste so much time like that." He explained, wistfully.
"That'd be horrible." She agreed.
"But the System fixes all of that. No waiting, no questions, just a perfect match. It's pretty impressive." He said.
"Mhm." She agreed, yawning. She glanced over at their clock, and smiled when she saw the time. "Gosh, it's nearly three am."
He looked over as well. "Blimey."
"I'm getting rather tired." She told him, rubbing her eyes. "Can we talk tomorrow?"
"Yeah, of course." He turned his head to look at her. His face was half-hidden by the pillow, but she could still dimly see the warm eyes that were so beautiful to her. "Goodnight, Jemma."
"Night, Fitz." She smiled. Part of her wanted to pull him into her then and there, and to put her lips on his and kiss him softly and slowly. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been thinking about how his scruff would feel under her fingers, or how it would feel when he pulled her close, fingers digging into her skin. But she didn't; somehow, the emotional connection that they had spent the last few hours cultivating felt far too precious to ruin with her neglected sex drive. Still, the desire totouchhim was so strong that she felt her hand reaching out to him without conscious thought. Her hand grazed his under the blankets, and after a brief intake of breath, he intertwined their fingers warmly.
"Goodnight, Fitz." She said again, heart beating heavily. Her smile was threatening to spill over her cheeks, so she bit down on her lips. It was as if electricity was dancing up the skin of her arms, touching him.
"You already said that." He reminded her softly.
"I meant it." She closed her eyes.
"You're wonderful, Jemma." She heard him say, barely a whisper above the pillowcase.
She fell asleep that night with Fitz's hand in hers, his thumb rubbing gently over her knuckles, and the warmth of his company deep in her chest.
She woke blearily, four hours later, with her head on his chest and their legs intertwined. White, early morning light filled their apartment, and a horrible beeping sound rang in her ears every couple of seconds. Fitz shifted underneath her, his hand tightening on hers where it lay on his chest. "Wuzgoinon?" He asked, sleepily.
"Dunno." She replied, not wanting to move. He was so warm underneath her, and she was so relaxed. "An alarm or something."
"Turn it off." He whined. "Then come back to bed."
She grinned sleepily, and forced herself to rise from his embrace. It was impressive, really, how tightly wound they had become in the middle of the night. Their legs had been intertwined, along with their hands, and if her sore neck was any indication, she had long since forfeited her pillow for his chest. His other arm had been wrapped around her waist, and as she stood, that arm reached unconsciously across the warm mattress after where she'd gone. Hair a tangled mess in her eyes, she looked at him where he lay on the bed, and her heart surged with affection. She couldn't wait for the day ahead; somehow, in her sleep, she had planned it all out: they would go on a walk through the green rolling hills of the System base, perhaps hand in hand, then would return home and she would make dinner. Then tonight, perhaps, they would capitalize on the romantic aura of the room and the intended use of their double mattress, and fall into each other with bright smiles and light hearts. That was, of course, if she could shut off the damned alarm.
After rummaging in drawers and under blankets, she soon realized that there was no alarm in the room, and that the beeping was coming from the handheld devices that they had both brought into the house. She picked hers up in her hand, loving the smoothness of it, and looked at the screen to turn it off.
"Oh." She said, tears springing to her eyes. Looking at it with a dull ache in her chest, Jemma returned to their bedside.
"Turn that bloody thing off." Fitz groaned, eyes still closed.
"Fitz-" She started, haltingly.
He opened his eyes then, perhaps hearing her sadness in her voice, and she was startled by how blue his eyes were in the morning light. "What is it?"
"It's the expiry." She told him, throat tight. "We've got to vacate the house and go back to the single quarters."
"You're kidding." Suddenly awake, he sat up straight, and reached for his device on their bedside table. Looking at it, his face fell quickly. "No-"
"I'm sorry." She apologized, feeling unspeakably foolish. "We should have checked the expiry before."
"No, don't be sorry." He stood, gripping her arm.
"I just can't believe it." She said.
"Believe what?"
"That we only had twelve hours." Jemma said, regretfully. "Iwish, well, I thought we'd have had more. We were getting on so well. "
He grabbed his device, and watched as the red warning light blared on their devices.Relationship expired, it read. His face was sad too, a reflection of the blue mood that had poisoned her heart. Hadn't they been intertwined peacefully, just minutes ago?
They stood and dressed quietly, back into the same clothes they had worn the night before. Fitz's light green shirt was rather crumpled, and she surpressed the desire to smooth some of the creases on his chest. They walked past their empty wine bottle and discarded glasses on their way out, Jemma's heart twisting painfully in her chest to remember that their good times were now only memories.
The air outside was cool when they left their house. Jemma wrapped herself tightly with her arms, wishing she could wear Fitz's sport coat again. "Well." She heard him say, breaking her train of thought.
"Well." She echoed, sadly.
"I guess this is it." He said.
"Yeah."
Their devices both beeped angrily at them, as if prodding them to finish their conversation as soon as possible. Jemma had never hated anything as much as she hated that device in that moment, and wanted to chuck it away from her.Faraway from her. The idea that they were just...over, and that they'd never flow so seamlessly between each other again, was heartbreaking.
"So long, Fitz." She said, reaching out her hand to him, trying to keep her voice steady.
He clasped it in his, giving it a small shake. She was forcefully transported back a few hours, when they had lain face to face, and had clasped hands before falling asleep. In this blue moment, it wasn't a welcome memory.
"So long, Jemma." He replied. His eyes were a stormy grey.
Then before she could do anything, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek. It was soft and unexpected, and she felt the roughness of his stubble as he pulled away, looking sheepishly at the ground. "Sorry." He apologized, shaking his head and dropping her hand. "It was over. I shouldn't have-"
She felt like her heart was bursting. "Hey, don't be sorry."
"Maybe we'll get paired again." He tried.
Dimly, Jemma didn't think so, but she played along. "Yeah, of course."
"We could see each other again. Somehow." He was grasping at straws, and she knew it.
"Yeah." Bizarrely, Jemma felt her eyes filling with tears. Though it had only been a few hours, she couldn't shake the feeling that Fitz wasitfor her, and that she had just lost the match of a lifetime.
"Well, if we had had more time-" he began.
"Don't." She stopped him. "It's too much-"
"-you totally would have gotten it." He finished with a flourish, his face breaking into a weak smile. "We'd have used that bed, like, all night."
Laughter bubbled up in her chest and she opened her mouth in surprise. "You bastard!" She sputtered, exasperatedly. "Saying that after it's over, ohyou-"
"-just looked sosad-" He chuckled.
"-playing with my emotions. Honestly. Now that's all I'm going to think about,damnyou-" She brandished sarcastic fists at him.
He laughed and so did she, and she figured they must look ridiculous arguing in front of an empty house at seven in the morning, wearing crumpled date clothes. But their devices were now screaming at them to part ways, and Jemma wouldn't have been surprised if armed System-police had shown up beside them to pull them apart. Smiling sadly and laughter fading, Jemma looked at her shoes.
"You would have." She told him. "Gotten it too, I mean."
"Right." He answered, his own voice sounding thick. "Thanks, I guess."
She glanced back up and put on a brave smile. "Well, goodbye Fitz. Good luck with...everything."
He nodded. "Yeah, you too."
They kept eye contact for a moment longer until Jemma couldn't stand another second of it. She turned from him and walked back down the path that they had walked together just the previous evening, and found that it wasn't even half as beautiful when she was alone.