AN: Because I am a nerd for Fitzsimmons, I figured I had to write one of these. Enjoy! Betaed by the wonderful NotMarge, for check her out.
Disclaimer: I do not own AoS, Fitzsimmons, or Please Don't Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Aplin.
Just please don't say you love me,
'Cause I might not say it back.
Doesn't mean my heart stops skipping when you look at me like that.
There's no need to worry when you see just where we're at.
Just please don't say you love me, 'cause I might not say it back.
They'd thought the party would have been a good idea. Really, in thought, it had been. In practice, not so much.
Even SHIELD agents have time off, you know. It was the 4th of July, and as they normally did, SHIELD was having its annual barbeque/cookout. Coulson would be there, of course – there was always a lot of teasing about the Captain America thing – and May, who was being almost reluctantly drug along. Skye would excitedly attend, with Grant in tow. Trip and Mack would be there, too. (Fitz secretly thought they were brothers, or cousins, or something, but he never asked.) The Koenigs, Hunter, Bobbi…. All of the SHIELD agents were to be in attendance. (It was mandatory.)
So, of course, Fitzsimmons were going to come. They kind of had too. It did seem fun, after all, so they weren't exactly complaining about it. The problem was they just needed a ride. Lola, of course, was completely out of the question. Coulson would kill them in their sleep when they least expected it. They were dead in the water if they even thought about touching Lola. So they grabbed the only other car in the garage that hadn't already been called or driven away – an old model of some sort of Jeep. (At least, that's what it looked like to Simmons. She really wasn't sure. She wasn't a car kind of person, not like Mack, Trip, and Coulson.)
Fitz peered at her from around the back of the car where she was standing at the hood.
"Well, this one isn't Coulson's," he supplied. "We should be able to take it."
Everyone else had already left on vacation – to be called in if needed – but Fitzsimmons had stayed in to finish up working on a project they'd been working on – upgrading the D.W.A.R.V.E.S.
"Are you sure, Fitz?" Simmons questioned as Fitz came around from the back towards her, clad in a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt, a dark red beanie perched onto of his mop of curly hair. "It doesn't quite look like it'll make it to the party."
Fitz rolled his eyes, turning and popping the hood. He glanced around inside. Contrary to popular belief, Fitz was an engineer, and he was actually fairly good with cars. (He was still not allowed to touch Lola.)
"It looks like it should last us the way there," he said. "Dunno about the way back, but the way there. We're almost sure to get there."
It was biochemist's turn to roll her eyes.
"Alright, Fitz, if you say so."
Fitz grinned and swept around her, pulling her towards the door. He popped it open for her and gestured for her to get in. He half-bowed.
"My lady."
She grinned back and hopped in, pulling the door closed as Fitz headed to the other side, jumping in, snapping his buckle closed, and starting the car.
They pulled out.
They almost made it there. They were about halfway to the party when the car broke down. They were alone on the road, so it wasn't a huge trouble for other drivers, mostly because there weren't any, as they stopped in the middle of the road. Fitz groaned and leaned back, thumping the back of his head against the seat. Simmons sighed, too.
"Fitz!" she said. "You said we'd get there! You promised!"
Fitz straightened up and raised one hand.
"I said we might," he added. "I never promised anything."
He sighed and opened the door, sliding out and landing with his feet on the pavement.
"I'll check the engine."
He'd popped the hood again and was studying the engine, trying to figure out what was wrong with it, when Simmons appeared at his side. She squinted at the mess of parts inside the hood of the car and frowned. This was an engineer problem, definitely.
"It might be the carburetor," she heard Fitz musing. "Or one of these cables could have been damaged…. I could fix it but I don't have the right tools…."
He stopped when Simmons came over, ducking under his arm to lean with her back against the car, peering up at him.
"Fitz, come on," she said with a laugh. "We're going to be late."
Fitz laughed back with her, standing up and grabbing her arm. They held each other in a quick embrace, Simmons' bright pink lips brushing against his cheek before the hood slammed down, starling Simmons so she jumped back. Fitz laughed, his eyes crinkling up slightly. Simmons loved it when he did that. After the incident with the pod and the ocean, she treasured any smile that came to his lips. He hadn't been happy for so long after.
Simmons laughed dryly.
"Yes, ha ha ha, it's so funny, Fitz."
Fitz smiled again, taking a step towards her.
"We have to get there somehow. Get in the front and steer. I'll…. I'll push. Or try too."
Simmons burst out laughing and Fitz frowned at her, crossing his arms.
"Just get in the car, Simmons," he said.
She did.
That was how when, fifteen minutes later, the road began fill up, the car at the head of the line was being pushed by slightly scrawny engineer and being steered by a pretty biochemist.
"Fitz, come on!" Simmons said with a laugh, her face lit up. She stuck her head out the window and waved her arm, motioning for Fitz to come on.
"That's so funny, Simmons!" Fitz shouted back, but he was smiling, too. He couldn't help it. He slowed down until he stopped, his face screwed up slightly in pain, one hand on the car, bending over and catching his breath.
"You're the one who isn't pushing a car containing your one and only."
Eventually, they gave up. They were about 10 minutes away from the party, walking distance, and only 20 minutes late when they decided to leave the car by the side of the road of the road and walk the rest of the way because they were already late, and no way Fitz was going to push the car the rest of the way there, Simmons had decided. Her arm around his shoulders, Fitz was smiling as they strolled down the street.
"Do we have to go, Simmons?" he began, but it was more of a formality than anything.
They were almost there, and Fitz actually did want to go.
"Yes, Fitz," she chastised. "We have to go. You heard Coulson. It's mandatory. It'll be fun, you'll see."
It was fun. When they finally arrived, a grand total of 40 minutes late, they were greeted by Hunter, who predictably already had a drink in his hand and Skye, who was grinning and bouncing. (Ward was sulking a little in a corner nibbling on a hot dog.)
"We thought you guys were never going to get here!" they said at the same time.
"What happened?" Skye continued as Hunter took a swig of his beer, or whatever alcoholic beverage he'd managed to get his hands on this time.
"The engine fried," Fitz explained as Skye and Hunter moved to let them in.
A lot of their agents were already there, almost all of them, gathered around the fire and eating hot dogs and hamburgers, bags of chips spread out on a table. Coulson was grilling, wearing the 'world's best dad' apron that Skye had forced onto him.
"Fitz had to push," Simmons volunteered.
Skye laughed and Hunter snorted into his beer.
"Hey!" Fitz called out. "I got us almost all the way here!"
They were pushed into the fray of the party quickly, waving at the team members and acquaintances they spotted. There was alcohol, of course, and after they'd eaten, they were served it quite generously. Simmons, on one hand, tended to be a bit of a lightweight, but Fitz, on the other…. He didn't look like it, but chances are he could probably drink anyone under a table, still be drinking when they woke up, and be just sober enough to head to the lab for work the next day while they were still sleeping off a hangover. This trait had led to many of the drinking nights between Hunter and the engineer.
It was New Years' Eve, and you cannot have New Years' Eve without alcohol, and you cannot have alcohol without Lance Hunter. That was just a thing, and the team accepted it very quickly. However, what they did not expect was Leo Fitz's affinity with alcohol. They knew that Fitz was Scottish, and they knew that the Scots were all about the alcohol, but they just couldn't think that Leo Fitz was. He looked like one beer would put him under for hours.
"Come on, Fitz," Hunter coaxed, taking a swig of whiskey. "It'll be fun. Come on. A drinking contest would be fun, I swear."
Fitz stopped and turned, a silver party hat perched on his head as the New Years' Eve festivities in New York played on TV. Simmons froze and met Fitz's eyes. The rest of the team stopped and turned. Skye was eagerly watching the conversation, the rest of them mildly interested.
"Hunter," Jemma began, "are you sure you want to go there?"
Hunter nodded eagerly.
"Please. This is, like, one of my only skills. I think I can take on Turbo over there."
Fitz arched an eyebrow, hopped off of his bar stool, and moved to stand in front of Hunter.
"You're on," he said coolly.
He picked up a bottle of vodka from the table that someone had brought in (they weren't saying it was May but it was definitely May). He twisted the top off, dropped it on the table, and immediately went and knocked back half the bottle before Hunter could blink.
"Holy hell," he said quietly when Fitz came up for air, watching him with a steely look in his eye. "Let's go."
It didn't take long. Hunter and Fitz were sat in front of each other at the table, the rest of the team gathered around, the same number of vodka shots lined up in front of each. Skye was eagerly reffing the event.
"Alright, boys," she began, making her voice sound professional. "Three... Two... One... Go!"
Hunter and Fitz both grabbed a shot and knocked it back, continuing until they had finished the line of drinks, neither of them flinching until the last small glass cup had been set down.
"Ho-ly hell," Skye said, in awe. "Fitz..." She whistled. "Damn, you're good."
Fitz laughed, his eyes crinkling up in that smile Simmons so loved to see.
"I've had experience." Hunter squinted. "Alright, science baby," he began. "That was... You did..."
Maybe they'd both had a little bit more than they thought, because Hunter moved to stand up and stumbled, dropping back down.
"You did good, science baby."
Fitz laughed.
"I beat your drunk ass," he said matter-of-factly, his words still perfectly even.
Their eyes were drawn to the TV behind them as the disco ball began to lower. "3... 2... 1," the people on the TV, and of course, (most of) the team began to chant.
"Happy New Year!" Lance slurred, slipping off of his stool.
"Happy New Year," Fitz said evenly with a smile.
After the fireworks, Fitz found himself sitting beside Simmons on a picnic table, telling her really really bad science jokes.
"Why did," he began, pausing for a moment.
He screwed his face up for a moment and then took a swig of his drink. Simmons frowned, touching his arm lightly.
"Fitz, are you-"
He nodded.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. So, why didn't the quantum particle cross the road?"
Simmons smiled, fingering her glass, filled with a soda instead of beer like Fitz's.
"Why, Fitz?" she asked. Fitz grinned, proud of himself for his almost-finished joke.
"Because he was already on both sides!"
Simmons laughed, her dark eyes glittering with mirth.
"Fitz," she said, gently squeezing his arm.
"Get it, Simmons?" he began. "Get it?"
She laughed again at the look on Fitz's face. He looked like a child.
"Yes, Fitz," she said, still laughing.
She dropped her arm as Fitz spoke again.
"Oh, oh. I have another one." He adjusted himself on the bench and looked at her. "9 sodiums walk into a bar followed by Batman."
Simmons' face split into a grin. Fitz knew how much she secretly loved bad science puns. They were her one weakness. Suddenly, a set of chords rang out through the air and a song started from someone's phone. She sat up straight.
"I love this song!" she declared, standing up. "Fitz! Come on! Dance with me."
She took his hands after he released his cup, downing the last of the beer in it.
"When I was, a young boy, my father, took me into the city," she began, and Fitz smiled.
He loved seeing Simmons happy. He'd do anything to make her happy. She had a really pretty voice, though.
"Simmons," he began, but she shook her head, grinning.
"Come on, Fitz," she said with a laugh. "To see a marching band! He said, son when, you grow up, will you be, the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the daaamned."
Fitz flinched slightly, glancing at the bonfire. Another one of the agents was sitting beside it, watching Simmons with a smile.
"Simmons, I-" he began.
She dropped his hands, still humming to the song.
"Yeah, Fitz? Come on, dance…."
Fitz shook his head quickly, putting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands.
"I'm sorry," he said, and he lifted his head up, his fists clenched tight. "I'm sorry, I just…. My h-…. I can't find it," he said pathetically, weakly, and he spoke again. "Simmons, can we leave? Please."
He looked up at her, his look pleading. He almost looked like a sad puppy.
"Please, Simmons."
Simmons frowned.
"But Fitz…. The party's not over yet. Don't you want to stay?"
Fitz glanced at the agent that was eyeing Simmons without her knowing.
"I can't find it," he said again, but she still frowned at him, her arms crossed. "Please, Simmons."
She followed his gaze to the agent by the fire and spoke.
"Is that it? Do you just want to leave because someone's-"
He cut her off again.
"No, Simmons, I… Please, Jemma," he begged.
Simmons shook her head.
"I'm staying," she said decidedly. "You can walk back to the car if you really want to go now."
Fitz swallowed and stood up, turning around and walking away.
"Fitz," she weakly called out, reaching for him, but he ignored her, silently stalking away. Maybe she'd been a little harsh…. She loved him, oh how she did love him. She couldn't live without Fitz.
She moved to follow him, but the man from beside the fire stood up and came over. He touched her arm. She jumped and spun around, relaxing when it was just him.
"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry."
He smiled. "It's alright. I'm Hank Sousa."
She weakly smiled back. "Simmons."
He arched an eyebrow at her. "So I noticed you like My Chemical Romance?" he questioned.
Simmons nodded. "Oh, yes. This is one of my favorite songs," she answered, but she was still distant, thinking about Fitz.
What had upset him? She had been rather harsh. A few minutes later, Skye came up and thumped her on the back, stopping the conversation.
"Hey, science lady!" she shouted. She was definitely drunk.
"Where's Fitzy? Hunter wants him for somethin'. Probably gonna drink some more since he lost so bad last time they tried." Simmons frowned. "He…. He left, I think."
Skye frowned. "Without you? You two are, like, attached at the hip…. Oh, alright. I'll tell Hunter he's gonna hafta host their epic britishness drink-off some other time…."
The hacker-turned-agent wandered away, still clutching her beer. He wouldn't have just left her normally, would he?
His words were still echoing in her head over half an hour later when Fitz hadn't appeared again. He hadn't seriously left, had he? Maybe he had…. A slim bottle brushed against her upper thigh as she moved to stand up and toss her cup away, still speaking pleasantly with Agent Sousa. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright. She knew what was wrong with Fitz, why he had been so anxious to leave. He'd had his fist clenched tight, he'd winced earlier whenever he'd looked at the fire or something loud happened near him. He'd had trouble trying to talk to her earlier, when he'd hurriedly asked to leave. He always acted like that when he got a bad headache. He got them fairly frequently now, after The Incident. He had medication that he took whenever he got them, and Simmons normally carried it for him. That's what he'd meant when he'd said he couldn't find it. He hadn't been able to find his medicine.
The water pressure beat on her back and her stomach and her legs and it pounded her arms as she tried to pull Fitz up, desperately swimming towards the surface. She couldn't do it without him. She loved him, no doubt about it, but it had happened so fast…. So fast. His words were so heavy, and he'd clearly been waiting forever to say them.
She didn't have time to look at him or think about what he had said or think about what she felt because she was too busy living. She had to live, because if she didn't get to the surface he certainly wouldn't. She was swimming fast. It was too fast – the nitrogen in their blood – but it was too slow – he didn't have enough air, not near enough. She was running out and she'd had the extra breath, but he hadn't had any.
And then she broke the surface and there was air, sweet, clean, fresh air. She could breathe and she did, sucking in great big mouthfuls. Air…. Her lungs expanded, but Fitz didn't move, limp in her arms as she frantically kicked trying to keep him up. Then there was a hand and Director Fury himself who was supposedly dead was pulling up Fitz and then he was hauling up Simmons. Fitz was laying there, so pale he looked dead, not even breathing, his right arm encased in a soaking sling.
"Director, please," she begged, coughing up a few mouthfuls of water. "Please. Please. He can't be dead. You have to help him. Please! Fitz!"
She sobbed, bending over, crumpling to her knees as a few men in white coats rushed in. He was so precious to her. He meant so much to her.
But sometimes, precious things could break.
It was quiet. So quiet that one wouldn't have heard it had they not been listening, or been an agent of SHIELD. Luckily, Phil Coulson was listening, and he wasn't just an agent. He was the director. He passed Leo Fitz's room when he heard it. It was so quiet that he very nearly missed it, but he didn't. He slowly crossed to the door, pressing his ear against it. It sounded like someone was crying, and it sounded like Fitz. He had a thing about privacy, so he tended to give it as he was given it, but this could be serious. He tried the knob, but it was locked, so the director went to Plan B.
He backed up a few steps and with a well-placed swing of his leg, kicked the door in. His youngest agent was on the ground in the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his knees drawn up and holding his head with his hands, crying quietly.
"Fitz?" Coulson said urgently, crossing the room. Fitz, what's wrong? Fitz? Leo!"
The engineer looked up, and his blue eyes were glimmering.
"S-s-sorry, s-sir," he stammered, but Coulson hushed him.
"Fitz. Just tell me what's wrong."
Fitz sucked in a breath and started speaking.
"My h-head."
Coulson crouched down beside him, a hand on his arm.
"Your head hurts?"
He gave a miniscule nod of assent.
"Hurts a l-lot. C-can't find my m-m…."
"Your medicine," Coulson supplied.
The agent nodded again, and Coulson stood up. He turned to Leo's little desk and started rifling around through it. There was no medicine bottle in sight. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. The lab. He'd probably left it in the lab. He turned back to the agent, crouching down beside him again.
"Leo. Listen to me. We're going down to the lab. I bet you left it in there and you just forgot where you put it. Listen, you're gonna be alright. It's gonna be okay."
As he was talking, he put one arm under Fitz's knees and the other up towards his shoulders. When he was finished speaking he stood up. There wasn't much of Fitz there. He wasn't much trouble to carry.
He was out the door and a few steps down the hallway when Skye left her room and frowned immediately at the sight, Fitz curled up in Coulson's arm.
"What's wrong?" she said immediately.
"He's sick," Coulson said. "His medicine, it's in the lab. He needs it."
Skye followed them the rest of the way down there.
Simmons was studying something under her microscope when they walked in, and she didn't even look up.
"Oh, Fitz, there you are, can you hand me my-"
She stopped immediately when it was Coulson who started speaking and looked up.
"Simmons. He needs his medicine. He couldn't find it, and I couldn't find it in his room. Do you think he left it down here?"
The director crossed the lab and gently set the young engineer down on one of the tables.
"Oh, Fitz!" Simmons said immediately. "Yes, yes. He keeps it on his desk."
She hurried across the room, snapped up the bottle from a drawer and headed back towards Coulson, Skye, and Fitz, snapping up her bottle of water along the way.
"Fitz," she said, standing near his head. "Fitz, Leo. Look at me. Look at me. I've got your medicine, okay? I'm going to make it alright, I promise. Open your mouth so I can give you the pills, okay?"
As if a child or a small dog, Fitz obeyed, and the white capsules which with time and sleep would make him better rested on his tongue.
"Tilt your head back, please, Fitz."
He was very obedient even with his eyes squeezed shut, and Simmons gently trickled water into his mouth. Instinctively, he swallowed, still curled in on himself.
Simmons ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh, Fitz," she said again, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm so sorry. I'll keep your medicine for you, now, okay? So you never have to worry about forgetting where you put it. You just have to remember that I have it."
Simmons suddenly felt absolutely horrible. He'd been in pain and she'd told him to leave. He'd never got his medicine. Oh, Fitz….
"Agent Simmons?" Sousa asked, frowning at her slightly.
She shook her head.
"I'm so sorry, Agent. It was very pleasant meeting you, but I…. I have to go."
She glanced around quickly, pulling the bottle out of her pocket and holding it tight in one hand. She found who she was looking for quickly. Coulson was standing next to May, idly chatting about one thing or another when she hurried up to them. Wherever Fitz had gone, he'd been there, alone and in pain, for over half an hour. Poor Fitz….
"Sir," she began, but both of the older agents straightened up suddenly at her words.
"Simmons?" Coulson asked. "Is something wrong?"
Simmons nodded frantically. "Yes. Please, sir, Fitz is having one of his headaches and he left and I never got a chance to give him his medicine, and I think he went back to our car and I need to find him."
Coulson nodded, setting his red plastic cup down.
"My car's out front. We'll find him, Simmons."
He glanced at May.
"Got this under control?"
She laughed dryly.
"All I've got here is a British agent very nearly drunk off his ass, Skye trying to start spin the bottle, and Ward attempting to woo me into letting him keep the puppy he found. I can handle it here. Go find him."
Coulson turned and headed towards the bright red very nice car.
"Lola?" she said, uncertainly.
She'd never been allowed to touch Lola. Ever. No one was. Coulson smiled slightly.
"Special circumstances," he said, sliding neatly into his car and starting her, the engine purring nicely.
Simmons was still very hesitant to touch the car, so Coulson had to lean across the seat and open it for her. The British biochemist perched on the very edge of the seat and was very, very careful not to touch anything. If she hadn't been so worried about Fitz, she would have been marveling at the fact that she was in Lola. She was literally touching Coulson's car and he wasn't killing her or planning the murder.
"Where's your car parked?" he asked, pulling around and cruising back the way they'd come.
Simmons hesitated.
"It took us about twenty minutes to walk," she said, on the edge of her seat literally and metaphorically, the pill bottle still clenched tight in her hand.
She had to get him his medicine. When his headaches got bad enough, he would forget things, like where they were or where he'd put his medicine, which was why Simmons always kept it for him. Always. Whenever they went out, anytime they left the BUS or the lab for anything, she always had it with her.
"Alright," Coulson said, leaning back into the seat as the beautiful car roared forward.
Simmons kept her eyes peeled as they drove, studying the sides of the road just in case something awful or unthinkable had happened to Fitz. She just couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before. Her best friend in the whole world….
"There." Coulson's voice cut through the silence.
The old car they'd taken was on the side of the road exactly where they'd left it. There was a lumpy shape in the passenger seat. Coulson hit a button and Simmons' door unlocked.
"I can wait for you," he offered, but Simmons shook her head.
"I'll call someone. Thank you so much, d- Sir. Thank you, sir."
Phil smiled.
"Alright, Simmons. Take care of him. Take care of yourself."
Coulson leaned over, pulled the door closed, and then looked up at her before he spoke again.
"See you next week, Jemma."
The red car pulled away before disappearing into the darkness.
Simmons delicately approached the driver's side door, peering in. The shape in the passenger's seat was Fitz. He was curled up tight in a ball, one hand near his head, fast asleep. Simmons sighed, her heart clenching. He looked so small and alone curled up in the seat. She swallowed again, scanning the inside of the car. The only unlocked door was the one beside Fitz. She moved around the car and up to Fitz's door. She popped in open as softly as she could manage. His face was scrunched up and his cheeks were red.
Catlike, she climbed over him, careful not to brush against him and wake him. Sometimes he just had to sleep off the headaches and wait. A handful of times they'd needed to take him to the hospital or at the least the infirmary on the BUS if they got bad enough. Not very much could always be done. She finally dropped into the driver's seat and sighed.
"I'm so sorry, Fitz," she whispered quietly, and she reached over and brushed a lock of hair from his face before pulling her hand back. "I'm so sorry…."
She pulled out her cellphone with her free hand and quickly dialed a number.
"Hello? Yes, this is Jemma Simmons…. My boyfriend and I, we're stuck, our car broke down. He's sick. Can you please come and get us? Yes, thank you… Thank you very much."
Simmons rattled out as close of an address as she could think of, the address of where they'd hosted the party, and then said about ten or twenty minutes from that. She hung up, snuggling in to wait the hour or two the man on the phone had said it would take. He'd said they'd try to get someone out there as fast as they could because of Fitz, but it was very late, or early, and there might not be a truck available for a bit. If she could tend to him until he woke up, she would watch over him and guard him from the nightmares.
Fitz woke up the next morning, light streaming in the windshield. He blinked, confused for a moment. He was in the car, still curled up in a ball, the headache still pounding. The car, however, was moving. Moving? It had broken down…. He glanced beside him slightly but before he could so much as turn his head, there was a gentle hand on his arm. Simmons' skin was soft on his.
"Fitz," she said quietly. "Here."
He looked up, shifting and wincing at the light. She was holding out two white pills in one hand and a half-empty water bottle in the other.
"I have your medicine."
He weakly smiled his thanks and accepted them before quickly knocking back the pills with a few swallows of water.
"Jemma," he began, his voice soft and his accent rough with sleep. "About-"
She stopped him quickly.
"No, Fitz. You don't have to apologize. Please. If anyone does, it's me. I shouldn't have been so rude to you last night, really…. There's no excuse for my actions." She swallowed again, shaking her head slightly, but watching him all the same.
"I just," she started before failing and attempting to start again.
"I just don't want to hurt you, Fitz," she said. "I want to help you, but I'll always end up hurting you."
Fitz laughed very quietly this time.
"I wouldn't mind, Jemma," he said. "If you hurt me, I mean…. I wouldn't mind."
She smiled back at him, her hand now resting on the console between them.
"I left the party last night after I realized you had a headache. I came to find you, and when I did, I called someone to come and tow the car. He gave me the water bottle for you when you woke up, to take your pills."
Concernedly, she studied him.
"Do you need to go to the hospital? Or are you alright? We can go back to the BUS or go see your mum, or my mum and dad. We have another week of vacation before we have to be back. Are you sure you're okay?"
She smiled at him, and Fitz couldn't help but smile back.
Fitz weakly smiled at her rambling.
"I'm okay," he said, moving to sit up straighter in the seat, but a gentle hand pushed him back down. "I'm always alright when I'm with you."
He caught her hand and gently pressed a kiss to the back of it.
AN2: Reviews are amazing! :) Just a side note. If there are any ideas for fics you'd like written, send me a PM or drop one down in the reviews and I'll see what I can do for you! Hope you liked!