When they get back to the house, Fitz grabs her to carry her over the threshold, while she playfully squeals and informs him that it's something they do after the wedding.

"It's just a practice run then." he jokes. And suddenly they are inside, in the bedroom. He is standing face to face with her and he knows that there is still one thing left to do, the final moment of truth. The giddiness of the evening dissipates and the dread fills his stomach again. There is nothing left to do, but face the music, the monster challenges him. The mask will fall and she'll leave when she sees what a mess you are. He takes a deep breath and pushes the monster into the back of his mind.

He cups her face and kisses her softly, slowly, hesitantly inserting his tongue into her mouth, rediscovering, tasting. He is acutely aware how his hands are shaking as he unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor. He starts kissing his way down to her breasts, gently releasing them as he unclasps her bra. He steps back for a moment, as he admires her beauty standing there almost naked. She steps closer and pushes his jacket down and loosens his tie. She starts unbuttoning his shirt and suddenly a memory flashes before his eyes Leopold, I want you right now. He grabs her hand to make her stop "Too fast." he whispers. She nods slightly to let him know she understood and backs to the bed, laying there motionlessly holding his gaze.

He kneels next to her his fully dressed body juxtaposed against her nakedness and starts kissing his way down, slowly. His fingers are delicately caressing her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. He traces feather-light lines connecting the freckles, committing to memory the constellations that will hopefully guide him home. He pulls down her knickers and buries his face in the hot wetness, taking in her familiar scent and taste, caressing, teasing with his fingers and his tongue until she comes, her stifled moans sounding almost like whimpers. That was the easy part, he thinks.

He dims the lights until all he can see is contours and quickly undresses. He kneels above her and she puts her arms around his neck and meets him in a hesitant kiss. He slowly enters her and for a moment stops, enjoying the heat, the wetness, the feeling of being surrounded. He starts to move carefully and almost relaxes when he hears Leopold, say you are mine, forever. Just mine. – I am yours, Ophelia. Forever. He freezes in panic, almost loses his erection tears pooling in his eyes when he hears Jemma whisper. "Hey, Fitz, it's me. Look at me, love."

He opens his eyes, now accustomed to the dark and sees her eyes shining with desire. He is back in the present and starts moving again slowly.

"Jemma, keep talking to me." he swallows hard.

"What?" she asks.

"Doesn't matter, just keep talking." he whispers back.

And she does, instinctively tapping into exactly what he needs. She whispers about sweet nothing moments, the time he stumbled on top of her in the snow during a heated snowball fight, and how desperately she wanted to kiss him and he can almost feel the snowflakes on his eyelashes and at the tip of his tongue; or how flushed she would get sometimes when he leaned over her work station in the lab, his delicate fingers brushing against hers and he can feel the memory of the heat and electricity radiating between them; or the time they fell asleep on her bed watching movies on a laptop, and when she woke up they were all entangled and he remembers his erection that morning pretending to be asleep, embarrassed and mad with desire and he becomes rock hard inside her. She moans with pleasure as he fills her even more.

She keeps whispering about the innocent dreams of two lonely teenagers who find each other, and her voice is guiding him and anchoring him in this life, where he is engaged to the love of his life. A life made up of real moments with vivid colours, smells and flavours, not the digital monochrome nightmare of the Framework. Finally, he is fully in the moment burning with desire as he starts moving faster and faster until he reaches his climax. He closes his eyes and buries into her as deep as he can, breathing hard. She pulls him closer and they stay entangled as hot, cleansing tears quietly fall down his face dampening her hair. Her hands caress his hair softly as she just holds him still, quiet for a long time. His monster is silent.

Finally, Fitz wipes his eyes and sighs "I'm sorry, that was terrible. It was like losing my virginity all over again. I've never been this nervous. Thank you – for… for being amazing." he adds and kisses her.

"It wasn't too bad - for a virgin" she jokes and kisses him back. Her fond smile finally relaxes him. "We'll figure it out together – we have a lifetime to perfect it - again."

"That we do, my lovely fiancée." he nods as she nestles her head against his chest with a contented smile.

"So what kind of wedding did you think about?" Jemma's eyes shine up. Here we go – Bridezilla has hatched, he thinks, but wisely keeps the thought to himself. Her obvious excitement fills him with warmth.

"Hey, I've had it planned out only as far as date 3, and you already mucked up my timetable. Anyways, I thought I'd let you worry about the wedding organization – we both know you have the superior organizational skills." he only half-jokes.

"Says the man who built Hogwarts from nothing in a year. Still, you must have a preference." Jemma looks at him questioningly. He thinks about it for a moment and all he sees is leisurely breakfasts together, sitting by the fireplace at night, building swing-sets for bright eyed kids whose voice fills the backyard with laughter. He shrugs.

"No, not really. If you want, we can drive down to Vegas tomorrow or we can elope to the Seychelles or we can do the full thing with our parents, and all our relatives we haven't seen in a decade…"

"You'll wear a kilt? My grandmother would melt from that…" she looks up at him.

"If I must…" he grimaces thinking that there is no humiliation he wouldn't suffer to keep a happy smile on her face. "Anything for you … or your grandmother."

"I'll remind you of this promise later, when your brain is not in a post-orgasmic mush and you will try to deny you have ever agreed." she giggles. "I could ask Daisy…"

"…and put her in a pink dress with horrible, puffy sleeves?" he sniggers.

"I thought you didn't care…"

"I don't. But still, torturing our friends –you'll have to aim that bouquet at Yo-yo and I want to see Mack's face – by the way, if I'm wearing a kilt, he's wearing one too - when she catches it - that does have some potential. Strictly only because they had that office pool running… Revenge, sweet revenge.." he kisses her.