So here's one more story with multiple chapters that I was planning to be a one-shot! But as always, I keep adding more and more and now it looks like it's gonna be around 12K words! And since I'm struggling to write the ending correctly, I'm posting this first chapter right now and hopefully the two others will be finished quickly. I mean it's not like after tonight I'll have a whole year to work on fanfics as I wait for season six to be aired ...

It was ridiculous really. All of it. People just didn't have such a huge crush on someone they'd only seen a few times and hadn't even talked to yet. (Because apparently Jemma's friends had all decided to gang up on her and agree that him holding the elevator door open for her and her saying thanks and him nodding and smiling wasn't a conversation. The nerves!). All she knew about him was that his eyes were dreamy, his face was beautifully symmetrical, his hair made her want to thread her fingers through it AND he received several science journals in the mail every week. But somehow, somewhere in the back of her mind, Jemma knew that if she ever managed to strike up a conversation on anything that didn't concern the elevator's cleanliness or the light bulb that needed changing in the hallway, they would realize they have so much in common and slowly become friends and then fall in love and it would be a beautiful story to tell their gorgeous genius children.

But as her friend Bobbi had pointed out several times, Jemma Simmons didn't really like to live dangerously. She was always the first person in their group to do her taxes. Every year. She never had a speeding or parking ticket, couldn't even remember stealing a cookie from her grandma's cookie jar and certainly never been the one to ask a man out before. Which was, again, ridiculous, because she was a strong independent woman who could go about getting what she wanted, and if there was one thing she disliked even more than not following the rules, it was people telling her she wouldn't be able to do something.

So that was how Jemma Simmons found herself just outside her apartment at precisely 10:11 PM with a slightly forced smile on her face and walking decisively (at least she hoped that was how decisively looked like) toward's her gorgeous and mysterious neighbor's apartment. She was pretty proud of the plan she'd divided. It was in fact rather flawless if she said so herself. She'd waited until the shop around the corner's closing time and then waited eleven more minutes (ten would have been too suspiciously precise obviously) so she could go to her neighbor's and ask him for some sugar (not everyone had flour or eggs or even milk at all times but even if you didn't put sugar in your tea or coffee, you had to have one if you invited someone over). The ideal outcome would be that he asks her what she was cooking. To what she'd answer that she was baking cookies to bring to her colleagues and then she'd find a way to make the conversation stray towards something more interesting like the research she'd been working on and he would say he's also a scientist and the rest would be history. If he wasn't the kind to strike up a conversation so easily, no problem, she'd quickly make a batch of whatever cookie recipe she'd find on google with the ingredients she took the precaution to buy at the corner shop earlier that day, and then bring him one as a thank you and then he would definitely have to strike a bit of a conversation and, once more, the rest would be history.

Of course, there was one possibility Jemma Simmons didn't anticipate. Which really no one could blame her for because it was rather unexpected. Just as she was taking another deep breath and was finally about to knock on his door, it opened on its own. Or well, rather someone opened it obviously and she found herself face to face with a man that was definitely not her handsome mysterious neighbor. He was actually quite the opposite. Not very tall, quite skinny compared to him, with big blue eyes and if the short scruff on his jaw was any indication, rather fair hair to match his pale skin. (because his hair was hidden under a black beanie, which was really strange because it was mid-may and really not beanie wearing season).

The young man, who she didn't remember seeing in the building before, was looking at her with a slightly terrified look on his face while she kept that, now extremely awkward, smile on her face and neither of them were speaking. Well, they made quite the pair, Jemma thought and hoped that once she found Grant Ward's actual apartment, she, at least, would be able to talk. It was all very strange really, she was positive she'd seen him enter apartment 406 and never seen anyone else come in to visit or else. (Not that she spied on him, she just happened to have a good memory and remembered where people went to when she heard noise in the hallway and watched through her peephole. For security reasons of course. In case of burglars or … anything else.)

"Oh I'm terribly sorry." She started, finally finding her own voice. "I probably have the wrong apartment number, I thought this was …"

"Fitz! What are you doing? We can't go out through the door you idiot! We have to go back through the window …" Something hissed from inside the apartment, a woman apparently.

The man's eyes went even wider with terror and he started moving his head from Jemma to somewhere inside the apartment and back like a dog following a tennis match. A dog with horrible, Vietnam war flashback like memories of his last tennis match apparently. And that's when she noticed it. The man, Fitz most likely, did not only wear a beanie, he also wore gloves, black jeans and a black hoodie over a black t-shirt: the perfect burglar outfit. Or well, more specifically the outfit someone who'd watched too many movies would think is a perfect burglar outfit without taking into consideration that it was really warm out these days and that anyone wearing gloves, a beanie and a hood on, would look incredibly conspicuous.

Jemma was just wondering if she would be fast enough to run back to her apartment and lock the door before he caught her (he didn't look especially athletic while she'd been running 20 kilometers every week for the past few months) when he took the decision for her and grabbed her arm to pull her inside the apartment, her only reaction being a very undignified squeak.

-0-0-0-

"Hey hey hey, I-I-I'm really sorry I interrupted anything …" Jemma said in a voice that was way too high pitched to convey the calm, casual tone she'd been aiming for. "I'm sure nothing's weird going on here so I'm just gonna …" She tried to disentangle herself from his surprisingly strong grip but he didn't let her and just pushed her, quite delicately, and with a somewhat apologetic smile, to sit on the couch. Her first reaction was to pout and point out that she hated being interrupted but that didn't sound like a very useful thing to do. He still looked even more terrified than she was and she didn't know if that should reassure her or worry her even more. His mouth kept opening and closing and he was visibly trying to find something to say but the words just didn't seem to come out.

"Fitz! WHAT. THE. HELL?" The woman cried out when she came into the room from the kitchen and saw Jemma. She looked almost as terrified as her … friend? colleague? Could two fellow burglars be referred as colleagues? Maybe partners … Anyway. She looked just as terrified and actually wearing her black hood inside the apartment. So no professionals burglars, it seemed. Or just very bad ones. Or very new ones?

"Skye! Will you stop saying my name in front of …" He hissed at her while vaguely waving his hand in Jemma's direction. "… the witness …" He whispered, still perfectly loud enough for Jemma to hear.

"Well you just said mine you idiot! And why are you talking like that?"

"Skye's not even you real name and remember what we said about me being … you know …"

Jemma didn't think there was anything strange in the way he talked. Being an burglar and all, keeping your voice low seemed like a reasonable thing to do.

"Ugh honestly … you watch way too much television!"

"Hey. You don't complain about it when you use my Netflix account!" He cried out, apparently forgetting about the whole whispering thing.

Actually, if they looked a bit more alike, she'd be willing to believe they were siblings. In any case, they seemed rather occupied and Jemma saw her opportunity to try and escape. So she slowly got to her feet and started taking side steps towards the door. She'd actually almost made it to the door when he saw her and ran to pull her back inside the apartment and push her, this time not so gently, on the couch. "Sorry sorry sorry, you just … you can't leave. We can't let you …hum … oh god …" He mumbled but Jemma didn't hear much of it because she was really starting to panic now.

"I'm sorry. I promise I won't say a thing. I'll just go back to my flat and not call the cops and-and please please don't hurt me I didn't even want to come, my friends kind of made me and …" She pleaded, tears pooling in her eyes. It didn't exactly have the expected effect because, again, he looked horrified and … was he actually tearing up as well?

"What? No no no of course we're not gonna hurt you … ohgodohgodohgod..."

Wait … why did he have a Scottish accent now? A very convincing one at that … Did he have multiple personalities? Would one of them let her go? Oh god ... thanks a lot Bobbi! That's what you get for living dangerously … you get kidnapped by very incompetent mentally ill burglars!

"It's not what you think …" He continued. "We're not like … home invaders or something. We're not even armed. We wouldn't even know how to use a gun … Well technically that's not true, if I can design them I can probably use them but they wouldn't hurt you anyway because I'm specialized in non lethal … "

"Hu Fitz?" The girl, Skye, cut him off.

"Oh yeah … too much information …"

And now he was back to his American accent and Skye didn't seem alarmed by the constant switches from one to the other. So maybe not a split personality thing after all? But then what? Or maybe they were both mentally ill and escaped an asylum? Were they actually the killers from those urban legends everyone told when she was a kid? Well they didn't look like it, she'd imagined at least one hook for a hand (or was that another story?) and more dramatic circumstances: A storm outside or at least a bit of rain. Or even a black out to set the scene. Anything but two very unprofessional burglars dressed like teenagers really ...

"So what are we gonna do … now that she's seen us, she'll go to the police and then we're screwed …"

"Oh no I swear I told you, I won't go to the police, I won't tell anyone …"

Ugh! She couldn't believe she said that. They always said that in the movies and it was the stupidest thing. Of course once she was in safety, calling the police would be the first she did, and so all these characters in the movies. Were the bad guys really supposed to say: "Okay you look like someone I can trust, you can go." and the other to think: "Oh this criminal was so nice letting me go, I will certainly not break his trust and the special bond we have formed in the last two minutes. And so I will not call the police so he can carry on with his criminal activities."?

"We could just knock her out?" Skye suggested.

"WHAT?"

"WHAT?"

"Not too hard!" Skye answered, rolling her eyes. "Just enough to leave her unconscious for an hour or two … and we'd leave an aspirin and a bottle of water next to her … and I don't know maybe a … blanket … so she doesn't get cold …" She finished sheepishly.

"We're not in a bloody movie Skye … She might get a concussion or brain damage or or … or it might kill her. She won't conveniently wake up in two hours having forgotten what's happened here! And even then, we wouldn't leave her there with …HIM" Fitz insisted on the last word and Jemma wondered what that meant. What did they have against her gorgeous neighbor? They were the criminals, not him!

Well they were definitely not professional burglars but they weren't completely stupid or violent … or at least he wasn't.

"He's right you know … You see I'm a doctor, not a medical one, but still I'd really like not to be hit on the head and …"

"Fine! Fine … we're not knocking her out but then what?" Skye cried out at Fitz who looked just as lost as he'd been in the past ten minutes.

"I don't know! That was your idea!"

"Yes! To save your stupid ass Leopold!" Skye cried out, her hands on her hips.

"Skye! Just give out my address and phone number while you're at it, you idiot! Do you want my social security number as well?"

"Argh!" They both cried out at the same time and angrily walked towards opposite sides of the living room.

So maybe one of them was adopted? Or maybe his mom married her dad? Or vice versa …

They both spent a few minutes pacing and mumbling in their little corner. Jemma realized that she should have tried to go once more: they weren't armed, they weren't really big and didn't actually look very dangerous. But somehow, instead she found herself looking around the apartment of the mysterious Grant Ward and found herself … disappointed. It looked really cold with very little furniture, not a single poster on the wall or even bookshelves and not a trace of those very promising science magazines she saw in his mailbox several times. If she didn't know he'd been living here for at least five months, she'd thought he just moved in and didn't have the time to decorate yet.

"So hu …" Skye started after a while, turning towards Jemma and vaguely gesturing with her hand in her direction.

"Jemma .." She provided for her.

Wait! Why was she giving her real name? Was stupidity contagious?

"Jemma. Pretty name …" She said with a slightly forced smile she probably meant to be friendly. "How well do you know Grant Ward?"

"Not very well obviously!" Fitz said before Jemma could answer and both women raised an eyebrow at him.

"When she saw me at the door, she just thought she knocked on the wrong door. If she knew him well, she'd know for sure where he lives …"

"Oh … yeah … that's true actually …"

"So how do you know him?" Skye asked, giving Fitz a side smirk.

"She lives in the building …" Fitz replied once more and before Skye or Jemma could say anything, he added. "She doesn't carry a handbag or a jacket, just her keys."

"Well … good job Sherlock!" Skye grinned.

Obviously, he didn't do well under pressure but he was obviously smart and quite observing. She was a little bit impressed.

"So what were you doing here Jemma?"

"Ah hu … the thing is … you see …" God, she could feel herself starting to blush. She just wanted a little sugar, nothing wrong with that. Perfectly innocent. "I just needed a little sugar and I'd just ran out and … WHAT?"

Skye was grinning widely now.

"Oh I see what it is now! The good old "Oh the store has just conveniently closed ten minutes ago and I need a little sugar so I'm gonna go and ask my really hot neighbor to give me some …" Skye let out with an exaggeratedly husky voice that made Fitz roll his eyes and Jemma blush an even deeper shade of red.

"Whaaaat? No … no no no … I really needed the sugar!" Jemma protested.

"Oh really? What for?" Skye grinned.

"Baking …"

"What were you gonna bake?"

"Cookies …"

"What for?"

"Eat them … hey why am I answering your questions? I'm not the one breaking into people's apartments. I'm just innocently asking my neighbor for some sugar and yes I suppose he is somewhat attractive but that's not the point …"

"Honestly Jemma, even I know that trick" Fitz cut her off with a smirk.

Oh now they were on first name basis? Well for his defense, he didn't know her last name anyway and it wasn't like she was going to tell them that too … And also why did that smirk make her blush? That was only slightly attractive. Like 15-20 percents attractive at best and at least 80 percents annoying.

"Not that I would like … use it or anything but hum … yeah not very subtle …" He added, bits of the Scottish accent piercing through his American one so what was the real one already? "It's not like you need it anyway you're ….." The rest of his sentence was mumbled so under his breath that Jemma couldn't hear a word of it.

"Ugh okay fine! I'm guilty of trying to engage conversation with my attractive neighbor. Call the police!" She cried out as she flopped down on the couch. An extremely ordinary, uncomfortable and very disappointing couch. At this point, she didn't even want to escape anymore. They really didn't look dangerous at all. If anything, with her extensive knowledge of chemicals, she was probably more dangerous than they were. And now, she was kind of curious about why they were here acting like the burglars they weren't and breaking into the apartment of her, admittedly, hot neighbor who was apparently a lot less interesting than she thought he was if his apartment was any indication.

It was their time to blush and her time to smirk. Small victory really but she would take it anyway.

"Hey that's alright honestly. Good for you for … you know … going for what you want, girl power and all that …" Skye said, pumping her fist into the air rather unenthusiastically. "But you dodged a serious bullet there. Like a huge one, more like a canon ball honestly … If anything you should try hitting on that one" She added, pointing her thumb at Fitz with a grin. "He can't even get a proper compliment out without mumbling. Your flirting abilities seem equally abysmal."

"Ugh!" They both groaned but Jemma felt herself blushing just as Fitz looked down at his shoes in embarrassment.

Like she would ever date or even flirt with a burglar! No matter how strikingly blue his eyes were or how boyishly charming his face was.

"So?" Skye asked, turning towards where Fitz was sitting on a bar stool, the only other place to sit in the living area.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, opening and closing his mouth several times before standing up with a serious and determined expression on his face.

"We tell her the truth."