This is the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. take on the swell rom-com that is 2004's Wimbledon. The characters belong to Marvel and the plot is inspired by the film (with some minor to major tweaks to better suit Fitz and Simmons) so credit must be given to both. This sucker is unbetaed so apologies for any egregious or barely noticeable errors.
***IMPORTANT NOTE: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M/E ***
That night he manages to slip out of the side entrance of the hotel, bypassing the few photographers willing to loiter around after supper time, and drive away without being noticed by anyone.
He has the address Daisy'd given him written childishly on the back of his hand and he easily navigates the London roads until he pulls into the posh neighborhood that Jemma and May are now staying in. Once gathering which direction the ornate street numbers are heading, he pulls over into the first vacant spot he sees and hops out of the car. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he begins to amble down the road, keeping note of the lowering numbers until he stops in front of the intimidating brownstone with the wrought-iron 16 easy to see against the white paint of the building.
He'd whistle at the structure were he not absolutely terrified of being caught outside it, the entire building screaming wealth and respectability. It makes the suite at the Dorchester look like a Hooverville and Fitz can't help but feel even more anxious about the fact that he's come here to break into it.
He spends a view minutes pacing, likely looking every bit the creepy home-invader that he is, as he contemplates whether or not he should actually go through with what will wind up being a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet. Unfortunately, this of course causes him to envision Jemma peering down at him from her balcony, toothy smile providing more light than the sun rays of his imagination, and Fitz realizes that he's utterly doomed. He will see Jemma tonight and, if he doesn't, it won't be because he didn't try.
Squaring his shoulders, decision made, he moves to stand in front of the building. Staring up at the residence, Fitz internally curses as he realizes that there's only one way to sneak in without being caught. Casting a wary glance at the vine-covered trellis affixed to the building, he runs his hands along his jeans in an attempt to get as much nervous sweat off his palms as he can. He takes a few hesitant steps forward, glancing down the street to make sure that nobody mistakes him for a burglar, before tentatively gripping a handful of vines.
"This is stupid… this is so stupid. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die before the Wimbledon semi-finals in the lamest way possible."
With that pep-talk out of the way, he pulls himself up, pausing with bated breath as he gauges how strong the vines actually are. Being only a foot off the ground, Fitz knows that he's not yet high enough to determine the likelihood of being able to climb the trellis without falling or, more likely, being caught halfway up- too afraid to continue or drop down. He reaches up and grabs another fistful of vines and wood, using his arms to pull himself further while carefully placing his feet on the thickest parts of the living wall that he can find. Though the climb is easier than he'd expected it to be, Fitz still releases a relieved sigh when he's finally level with the windows of Jemma and May's apartment- eternally grateful that they'd opted not to rent one on a higher floor.
Pausing to take a breath, his arms shaking from holding up his weight and a light sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead, Fitz shuffles to the right and grabs hold of the window ledge nearest him. The widows themselves are nearly as tall as he is, the benefit of a residence this pricey, making it significantly easier to maintain his footing and keep a steady grip.
Shifting his weight, he moves along the window ledge and keeps hold of the vines while slowly pushing the window itself open. He can't see much, the minimal light of the night making it near impossible to distinguish one thing from another in the room, but he is able to make out what appears to be a bed.
Success.
He's just throwing a foot over the railing when a stream of moonlight falls across the occupant of the bed and Fitz realizes that he's one step away from sneaking into May's bedroom. Muffling a gasp, he promptly pushes himself back, scooting further along the ledge to get as far away from the room as possible. In his haste, he loses his footing, slipping slightly and crashing into the wall with an audible thump. He curses under his breath before going rigid at the sound of another curse coming from inside the residence followed by footsteps coming from the room he'd almost just entered. Fitz's eyes widen at the sound and he pushes his body as far from the first window as he can, praying that the darkness of the night will obscure him enough so that May doesn't see him when she inevitably pokes her head out to investigate the source of the loud noise.
Pausing when the footsteps are a mere foot away, Fitz sucks in a breath and shuts his eyes, silently praying to whomever or whatever he needs to that he will remain unnoticed. In the next moment, he hears a murmured, "Damn shutter windows," before they're closed with a resounding thud that seems to vibrate through him. He waits for a minute before sighing in relief, letting his head fall against the wall as he waits for his pounding heart to slow.
It takes another two before his body becomes unparalyzed and he immediately begins to move and to himself to the second window. Silently praying that there's not some new addition to the Simmons party residing in this room, Fitz gingerly pushes the window open and crosses his fingers. In the moonlight he spots a discarded t-shirt a few feet away from the window and grins when he realizes that it's his, or at least was his. The worn cotton is all the confirmation he needs to finagle his way over the banister and move to enter the room.
Unfortunately, his second foot gets caught on its way over and, rather than make a silent and smooth entrance, he instead tumbles face-first onto the floor with a groan.
The sound, though muffled enough for him not to worry about the other occupant coming to investigate, is evidently loud enough to pull Jemma from sleep. He hears a gasp as a shadow bolts upright in bed, and he clutches his nose, letting out a curse at the sting of pain lingering from his graceless entrance.
" Fitz ?!"
The whispered hiss rings out in the silent room and Fitz pushes himself into a sitting position as he looks in the direction of Jemma's voice and whispers, "Hi."
In the next moment, the room is bathed in light and Jemma is staring at him in bewilderment and perhaps a bit of anger. She leans over the bed to get a better look at him and demands, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Having been woken up in the middle of the night before, Fitz is all too aware of the fact that he only has a few scant minutes before Jemma's sleep-addled mind becomes focused enough to realize what he's up to and she pushes him back out the window. He hastily picks himself off the ground, moving to sit at the edge of the bed and gingerly grasping her hand in his as he confesses, "I wanted to see you. Can't seem to go a day without you teasing me over one thing or another. Think I may have missed ya."
The irritation on her face, whether from being woken up or woken up by him , softens and Jemma lets out a quiet sigh as she flips her hand over and weaves their fingers together. She stares at their interlocked hands for a long moment before looking back up at him and saying, "I missed you too but Fitz, you can't be here ."
She glances quickly at the wall separating her room from May's before returning her gaze to his and raising a brow. While he'd expected her to say as much, Fitz has no plans to leave without at least first trying to convince Jemma to let him stay. Thinking for a moment about the best course of action, he makes a show of getting up from the bed, carefully watching Jemma's face as he takes a single step forward and plops down on the mattress again.
"Can I be... here?"
The eyeroll he gets in response pulls a quiet laugh from him but the accompanying warning look promptly quiets him. He shifts closer still and mentally fistpumps when Jemma, rather than shoving him off the bed completely, actually lets him. When he's close enough that his hip is pressed against hers, Fitz simply holds his breath and waits for Jemma's next move.
" Fitz.
"People have fallen in love before, Jemma."
A flicker of surprise crosses over her face before she expertly schools her features and gives him a wry look as she asks, "Is that what we're doing?"
Rather than respond with an emphatic yes, Fitz presses his forehead against Jemma's and shuts his eyes at the now familiar feeling of warmth that surges through him whenever she's near. Leaning forward, he lets his fingers gently caress her cheek before pressing a languid kiss to her lips, smiling internally when she immediately presses back.
The easy exchange, simultaneously familiar and entirely new, makes him feel immediately heady and Fitz thinks that Jemma might be more intoxicating than anything on the planet. He releases a soft sigh at the feeling of Jemma's fingers as they glide over his cheeks, grinning as he pulls away and grasps her hands in his own.
"Jemma."
"Yeah?"
"Your hands are freezing."
She lets out a surprised laugh at that, opening her eyes with a smile that renders him incapable of much thought, and leans forwards to press a smattering of chaste kisses against his lips as she whispers, "Best not leak that to the press. They don't need another reason to call me Ice Queen."
Fitz grins at the comment, smile widening when Jemma's lips gravitate to his pulse point, and breathlessly mentions, "See… I always though May should be the Ice Queen. You're just the Ice Princess."
She pulls away at that, wrinkling her nose and leveling him with a look while saying, "Mmmm. Really want to talk about May right now?"
The question immediately causes him to blanch as he thinks of May right now and he quickly shakes his head as Jemma bites her lip to fight back a smirk.
"No. Let's stop talking altogether and…"
"Just do ."
The words combined with the gleam in Jemma's eyes prompts Fitz to surge forwards once more and capture her lips in a searing kiss that immediately sends an electric current through him.
Groaning at the feeling of Jemma's teeth nipping at his lip, Fitz makes no effort to stop his hands from roaming along her body. Considering the gasp that his wandering fingers pulls from Jemma, he's fairly confident that she doesn't mind his need to map out every muscle and goosebump along her flesh.
Her own fingers are just as diligent as they scratch along his stubble before coming to a halt at his collar. She yanks at his shirt and Fitz happily tugs it up and over his head before returning his lips to Jemma's and reveling in the feeling of her fingers tracing goosebumps along his back. Her cool hands are a stark contrast to the flames that seem to be engulfing him in this moment and Fitz gasps against her mouth when he feels them dip just below the waistband of his jeans. The move causes him to buck forward, both the chill and excitement caused by her touch making him seek out the heat that is radiating from her body.
He reaches for the hem of the camisole she's worn to bed, breaking their kiss just long enough to pull it off her and throw it to the ground, and quickly shifts his attention to her breasts when they're free from their cotton confines. Using the knowledge he'd gleaned from their past encounters, Fitz nips and sucks in equal measure to bring Jemma as much pleasure as he can. His tongue and teeth work in tandem and, considering the way Jemma's hands are gripping his hair as she gasps below, Fitz is pretty confident that he's doing something right.
He gladly keeps at it, bringing up a hand to focus on one side of her chest as his mouth busies itself on the other, and doesn't draw his lips away until the tugging at his hair becomes a bit more directed. Following the pulling, Fitz allows Jemma to tug his head so that it's in line with hers and gladly meets her when she leans up for a heated kiss. Their lips and tongues work in synchrony until the need for air becomes too great and Fitz pulls away with a gasp.
They're only a few scant millimeters away, breaths intermingling, which means that Jemma's lips brush against his as she whispers, "Clothes off."
Fitz smiles against her lips, pressing a firm kiss to her mouth before hopping off the bed and divesting himself of his last remaining clothing. He pauses for a moment, too distracted by the sight of Jemma shimmying beneath the covers and dropping a pair of lace knickers on the floor to concentrate on his own disrobing. When she quirks a brow at him, pairing it with a crook of the finger, Fitz hastily continues undressing.
He makes quick work of his jeans and boxers, shucking them off before quickly turning off the bedside light, joining Jemma beneath the covers, and immediately attaching his lips to her pulse point as his hand wanders to the apex of her thighs. The breathy gasp in his ear is like a shot of adrenaline and Fitz takes it as tacit permission to sink his fingers into her slick heat and seek out the spot that always makes her…
" Fitz!"
He grins against her throat before cutting off a choked moan at the feeling of Jemma taking him in one hand while shifting the other to grasp his wrist as he rubs at the elusive spot within her. He's not entirely sure which feeling has him short-circuiting more, the lazy stroke of her hand on him or their lazy rub of fingers against her, but knows that if he doesn't get a grip this will end far sooner than either of them would like it to.
Jemma seems to be on the same page because when the next pass of his fingers causes her to gasp and arch along the bed, she tightens her grip on his wrist and tugs his hand from her as she pulls her own away from him. She leans up and crushes her lips to his before dropping her head back to the pillow and staring at him with smoldering eyes.
" Now, Fitz."
He's nodding his head against her before the two-word command has fully left her mouth and shifts his body so that his hips are cradled between her thighs. Taking a moment to press soft kisses on every inch of Jemma's face that he can, Fitz drops his mouth in surprise when her hand wraps around him once more and immediately lines him up. He bends down to attach his mouth to Jemma's, mostly because he wants to and partially so that he can muffle their joint moans as he pushes in and is promptly overcome with pure ecstasy.
Pausing for a moment to orient himself (and run through all of the tennis statistics he can remember in an attempt to keep his body in check) Fitz rests his forehead against Jemma's as he pulls in a shaky breath. He shuts his eyes, taking in the sensation of being entirely consumed by the woman beneath him, and doesn't open them until he feels Jemma rake her nails across his back before gripping his bum.
The squeeze she gives him, both with her hands and where they're joined below, kicks Fitz into motion and he follows the silent command by deliberately pulling out and just as slowly pushing in again. He's almost certain that Jemma will chastise him for the leisurely pace of his thrusts and is pleasantly surprised when, rather than using her feminine wiles against him to speed things along, she matches his movements and runs the fingers of one hand gently over the scar along his spine.
It's such a tender gesture that Fitz finds himself overcome with the need to somehow be connected more than they already are. He weaves his fingers through the hand that isn't drawing circles against his back and keeps his eyes trained on hers as he continues to move.
It's different than what they've experienced before.
Despite the fact that the time and place likely warrants more urgency than their previous couplings, they move together slowly, as though they have all the time in the world. Jemma's fingers are woven through his own, loosening and tightening in time with his movements, and Fitz keeps each stroke slow and measured as he presses his lips on every surface of skin that he can reach.
It's not just sex this time.
How could it be when with each thrust he's counting every freckle that dots Jemma's face and trying to catalogue every swirl of amber in her eyes?
There's an added intimacy tonight that makes something catch in Fitz's throat as he realizes that this, what he and Jemma are doing, is the literal definition of making love. The realization causes his already overheated skin to warm and Fitz can't help but replay his own words as he gazes down at Jemma and finds her already staring back at him.
People have fallen in love before.
He suddenly feels elated and can't stop the beaming grin from blooming across his face as he takes in the sight of Jemma beneath him. He watches as she registers his expression, the flicker of confusion morphing into her own soft smile as her eyes flit across his face.
Leaning forward, he captures Jemma's lips in a tender kiss that she matches in gentleness. The easy press of her mouth against his makes Fitz think that she too is aware of the shift that's occurred between them. Better yet, the way that her palm burns against his back, the motion of her thumb across his hand, and the feeling of her rocking in time with him makes Fitz think that Jemma might be happy about said shift. The thought is yet another type of fuel and prompts Fitz to change the angle of his movements, wrapping his free hand around one of her legs and pressing his body more flushly against her so as to rub against every erogenous zone he can think of.
The reaction is immediate, Jemma gasping against his lips and tightening her grip around his fingers as he moves within her, and Fitz briefly wonders why anyone does drugs when a high this potent can be achieved in a far more pleasurable way. Each shift of their bodies feels like a combination of adrenaline and ecstasy shot directly into his system while every kiss exchanged adds a layer of tenderness that nearly makes Fitz break apart.
Their breaths mingle, unintelligible murmurs of affection broken only by gasps and moans, and Fitz squeezes Jemma's hand in his as he feels the telltale coil of pleasure begin to spring forth. Quickening his pace and deliberately rocking in concert with Jemma's own frenzied movements, Fitz focuses all of his efforts on bringing her to the precipice along with him.
Pulling from memory, he shifts once again until he's hitting the elusive spot within her that never fails to bring her quickly to the edge. Sure enough, with the next press forward, Jemma's hands are grappling at his back as her legs tighten around him and her choked moan is echoing in his ear. Spurned by her reaction, Fitz keeps his movements steady until, with a final thrust, they're breaking apart in unison and Fitz is muffling his groan against the sweaty skin of Jemma's neck.
He presses a few gentle kisses along her throat as he shifts off of her and grins when she immediately turns his head to catch his lips with her own. When he pulls away, he feels an instant warmth at the sight of the lazy smile on Jemma's face and knows that his own mirrors hers in sheer contentedness.
They spend a few moments simply staring at each other, equally satiated and happy to bask in the literal afterglow of their coupling. Fitz is certain he looks every bit the smitten, lovesick, fool that he is but makes no attempt to hide how deeply he's fallen. And while she still hasn't vocalized her feelings, the languorous smile on Jemma's face makes him think that they might be in the same place after all.
He tugs her more firmly against his chest and sighs at the feeling of her immediately nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck. He moves to press a kiss to her forehead before pulling the blanket more firmly around them and snuggling deeper into the bed. It's not long before the puffs of air against his throat slow and he knows for certain that Jemma has drifted off. His own eyes flutter closed and Fitz falls asleep with a smile on his face, Jemma pressed against him, and not a single worry about what tomorrow will bring.