This is just something that got stuck in my head after realizing I have compulsive lip picking. First Agents of Shield story! Please review. I wrote this in a few minutes, so if there's mistakes, I'm sorry. Set anywhere at the beginning of the first season, I guess.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Agents of Shield. Honestly.
Leo always noticed that Jemma's lips tended to look dry or cracked, ever since they met, but he regarded it as a consequence of the chemicals they worked with or perhaps the lack of lip care. Jemma didn't seem to mind, so he marked it as a simple observation and moved on. He would have continued thinking that, if it wasn't for Sunday. Oh, Sunday.
Sunday started normally. There wasn't much to do, and both Jemma and Leo decided a relaxation day was in order. They often set aside one day to make up for the other stressful, busy times. It started with sleeping in, then watching movies or playing games surrounded by junk food and maybe some of their favorite tea.
Fitz stood, stretching. "Hey, Jemma, have you seen the pretzels anywhere?"
"They might be in the cabinet, second shelf," She answered, looking up. "Could you maybe get me my blanket as well?"
"Sure," Fitz shrugged, heading off to find some snacks and Jemma's favorite knitted blanket. Of course the pretzels were where Jemma said they were, and he stopped by her bunk to pick up the soft yellow blanket. He grabbed her a pillow as an afterthought.
"Hey, Jemma," He stopped, cocking his head. "What are you doing?"
Jemma turned her head. "Hmm? Oh, you got my blanket. Thanks, Fitz."
"Yeah," he said, making himself comfortable beside her, glancing at the commercial playing on TV. "What were you doing before I came in?"
"I was watching the special on sharks, Fitz. You know, the one we both like?"
"Well, yeah, but you were doing something to your lip."
Jemma's face fell. "Oh," she said softly, grabbing the blanket with both hands and looking at her hands. "Fitz, I haven't told you. Er, it's sort of odd, sort of a compulsion disorder. Dermatillomania."
"Picking skin? But Jemma, your skin looks fine."
She bit her lip. "Well, it can include hair pulling, skin picking, and lip picking. I've picked my lip since I was a teenager. It's obsessive. I don't really notice I'm doing it, but when my hands aren't busy, well… I pick at my lips."
"Jemma, doesn't that hurt?" Fitz grabbed her hand, squeezing it.
"A little. Sometimes it makes them bleed, but usually I can stop before that. It's just difficult, and my lips always look weird." Jemma ducked her head, eyes focused on her hands again, refusing to meet Fitz's eyes.
"Jemma Simmons, look at me. You look just as beautiful as ever; I promise. It'll be alright, we'll look into it. And I'll be there the whole time. You're not alone, alright?" He pulled her chin up, meeting her eyes. "Honestly, talking like you don't look perfect the way you are. Ridiculous."
Her eyes softened. "Thanks, Fitz."
Both heads turned, as Jemma dropped her head onto Fitz's shoulder, his arm automatically pulling her closer. The special went on for an hour, and Jemma's soft smile never wavered until she closed her eyes, falling into a peaceful sleep, thousands of feet above the ocean.