Okay, the book I used in this is one that I read last year, but it's something I continously read because it's just that brilliant. I haven't posted in two days because I've been making cupcakes and well, I thought you guys didn't like it because you weren't reviewing. A friend of mine read it and said the last three were pretty great so I decided to continue anyway. Please review even if you've followed or favourite the story because I really love reviews. Also, please ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes because I never read what I write before posting it. I have no excuse, I'm just really lazy.
Also, I HAVE ACTUAL (SORT OF) PROOF THAT FITZSIMMONS SURVIVED EPISODE 6 & 7! Ming-Na posted a picture on Twitter of the cast and I'm quite sure that they're already filming either episode 8 or 9 and the whole cast was there SO YEAH SURVIVORS AND I'M JUST SCREAMING. But if this is just a trick, I swear I'm going to stab someone. On a better note…
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan. Anything that I quoted directly from the book is italicized. ENJOY!
If you're reading this, I'm guessing that you probably like books as well. They're hauntingly beautiful; in such a way that they transport you to a different place, era and even an imaginary world. I believe that this is the best gift a writer can ever give a reader: an escape to somewhere you never even knew you wanted to go.
It was only during quiet evenings when they weren't on missions that she ever got to read a good book. Something about the practice was wholly private, something that she just couldn't share to anyone. There was always one tucked underneath her pillow and there were several others hidden under her bed.
There were certain moments when there were books good enough to distract her from her own work. There are just things that can make us overthink despite the willpower that we know we possess. As I said before, they are an escape. That is what stories have always been meant for.
Little by little, she'd become engrossed in a single book. It was not a particularly lengthy one, but it was one that required much thought and much courage to read. The uncertainty she'd felt during the duration of her first time reading it disappeared the moment she'd closed it after the hours she'd spent pondering over the author's wise words.
There was a sudden knock on her door, a sound that pulled her out of a world that she'd practically buried herself in. It took a second knock for her to completely snap out of her thoughts. She squinted as she looked at the tinted glass, trying to see the figure on the other side.
"Simmons, it's just me!"
The sound of his voice was a reassuring one and it brought her a relief that she did not know that she even needed. She did not think about why he was there at a quarter to midnight or even check the time. All that mattered was that he'd actually come to her door without her asking.
She didn't have to say anything for him to know that it was alright to come in. The door slid open and she saw him standing there in the doorway in his usual flannel shirt and jeans. He looked the same as he always did, yet something about him seeing her as her face loomed over her book felt different.
Blood rose to his cheeks as he saw that she was laid on her stomach, dressed in her pajama shorts and a sweater that slid off of her shoulders. She rolled her eyes at him, knowing that such situtations were best avoided. "I'm permitting you to move now." She said with mock authority and he coughed into his hand. "What are you doing here?"
"I figured that the chances of you being busy were slim considering that we're on a plane 30,000 above the ground," He said and scratched the back of his neck. "But since you're currently hunched over a book, I'm guessing this is one of the rare times when I'm wrong."
She shook her head, the straight line of her lips curving into her usual smile. "You're not interrupting anything." She assured him, her voice neither impolite nor unkind. "But don't let the fact that you're correct add to your already gigantic ego, Fitz."
A comfortable and unexpected silence filled the bunk as soon as he slid the door closed and sat on her bed. She scanned the pages of her book and she could swear that his eyes asked the questions that his mouth would not translate. "It's The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan."
No one would have pegged her for a woman who'd read such books, but only he knew her so well as to see past the genius. In all reality, she was just like every other girl, still hoping for fantasies that were best left to only the imagination. Yet, some part of him wanted to make such naïve dreams a reality.
"Why that?"
"If you must know," She replied in a matter-of-fact voice when she saw the cocked eyebrow on his face. "It's a rather brilliant book and anyone would do the world some good just by reading it. I don't think you would understand it though, it's out of your depth."
He pressed a hand to his chest and feigned hurt. "A book? Out of MY depth?" He said and she elbowed him playfully in the gut. "You're being absolutely ridiculous Jemma Simmons. I would have expected a lot better from you."
"You're a bloody idiot." She said, but her voice was more affectionate than anything. An even wider smile graced his lips and she felt the need to keep the conversation running as long as she possibly could. "If you don't believe me, then I could just quote some lines to you. It's not as if I mind doing so."
He gestured for her to do just that and she searched the book for one of the many lines that she'd highlighted. After spotting one that she deemed good enough to read to him, she ran her finger along it. Something about the line was precious and rare; the book itself was a display of pure emotion.
"Does every 'I love you' deserve an 'I love you too'? Does every kiss deserve a kiss back? Does every night deserve to be spent on a lover? If the answer to any of these is 'No', what do we do?"
The lines were one of her many favourites from the book, one that she'd pondered on for many hours. She closed it and looked at him as he searched her face, as if the answer to David Levithan's question was right there. And in some way, it was.
"What do you think?"
"I don't think that every I love you deserves an I love you back," He began before tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear absentmindedly. "I don't think every kiss deserves one back and not every night deserves to be spent on a lover. You know what I believe?"
She continued to stare at him, her eyes already asking him the questions that remained unheard to their ears. "I think it's the person who deserves all those things. It depends on them, who they are and who all of this is in context to. If we're talking about you, then you deserve everything that will make you happy."
"The kiss I like," She quoted without giving it a second thought. "Is one of the slow ones. It's as much breath as touch, as much no as yes. You lean in from the side, and I have to turn a little to make it happen."
She felt his fingertips brush over his face as lightly as his lips brushed her own. It was tentative, a request to open a door that had remained closed to both of them for so long. There was something about the way he did it that made them feel like the world just stopped spinning for a moment; for them and for only them.
The moment she relaxed, it felt like something extremely pleasant had been injected into her bloodstream. He tasted of popcorn and chocolate and it drove her absolutely insane. It was almost as if she'd been looking for something for so long and she found it when she wasn't trying.
He helped her turn so she was propped onto her elbows while he leaed forward some more, the curls of her hair lightly tickling his cheeks. It was a pleasant feeling and there was something about the entire situation that made him feel as if their partnership had led up to that one single moment.
He pulled away and took her hands, intertwining her fingers as she leaned forward to press her lips right next to his ear. "Can I quote you something else?" She whispered like a child and he nodded.
"I want you to spend the night," She whispered and he knew that she didn't mean that she wanted to sleep with him. It was something so much more gentle, a mere request to stay for the comfort and relief. He nodded once more and she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and his jeans to the ground, leaving him in only his boxers and a grey undershirt. She flicked off the switch and buried her face in her own pillow as he did the same with her hair. They didn't adjust quickly, but it was in a way, comfortable.
"I know that you didn't finish that last quote." He said before letting his arms circle around her.
She took a deep breath and smiled, even if she knew he could not see it.
"But I loved the notion that the night was mine to spend, and I immediately decided to spend it on you."