Just in case you find you need to go back for a refresher, their diary entries are in Ch 21 & 22. You'll see what I mean in a minute…

Under the magnified stars, the tale of a light-weight ancient sacrifice, and their own relatively staggering reality, Fitz looked up at Jemma who lay on her stomach next to him on the roof of The Haggis, her cheek resting thoughtfully against her right fist. She gazed out over his head into the dark desert beyond the D.W.A.R.F.s that hovered noiselessly around them.

She'd been silent for a while, as if she hoped he might shoulder the burden of conversation, but he was flooded. Suddenly, to his utter astonishment, Simmons began reciting a poem. And it was a poem he knew. It was a poem he treasured. She spoke the words into the desert night with a simple and unaffected sincerity, giving a voice to the very deepest of his yearnings and her own:

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!

As she recited the closing three lines of the poem, she shifted her glance from the dark shapes around them and sought his gaze. Both of them had tears shining in their eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"Emily Dickinson," his voice cracked.

She nodded.

"When did you learn it?"

She shrugged, unable to speak further.

"Jemma? Did you learn it while you were in hospital waiting for me to wake up?"

Her brow knitted in confusion. "How did you know?"

"Because a few days after I'd come out of the coma, when my mum came to gather my things and take me back to the base, she found a book that had fallen under my bed and she packed it into my bag thinking it was mine. It was The Complete Works of Emily Dickinson."

"I hunted for it everywhere. Turned my bunk upside down."

"You left a bus ticket inside it, marking that page."

Jemma nodded.

"When at last I could manage to read it," he raised his hand to touch her face. "It was all about you."

She nodded again, more vigorously, no longer able to check her tears.

He grinned, his own tears still sparkling in the corners of his eyes. "Jemma? Are you…?" he paused, still too afraid to say it out loud. "Do you…?"

She nodded more vigorously still. Then suddenly, she leapt to her feet and disappeared down the ladder, leaving Fitz alone on the roof under the Coma Berenices.

"Jemma?" he called after her. But she was already re-appearing, clambering back up the ladder, her hair wild and her face glistening with tears. She plonked herself back down next to him and handed him her tablet, then buried her face into his chest.

Fitz was baffled, but wrapping one arm firmly around her, he tried to focus his attention on whatever it was she had given him to look at.

"Dear Diary," he read. "At last! I can't believe that I managed to schedule official journal-writing time into this mission – every 48 hours!"

"You've given me your journal?" he asked aloud.

She nodded against his chest but refused to look up.

"You're sure you want me to read this?"

Her head made the same affirmative movement but stayed hidden.

Fitz settled in to what was sure to be an entertaining and revealing read. At first he was intrigued – he wondered why Jemma and her diary had come to the agreement that it would be a Fitz-free zone. Overthinking? That was his stock and trade when it came to her.

He smiled to himself as he read her description of his domestic activity, and his smile grew especially wide when he learnt that all those hours he thought she'd been devoted to her work, she had actually been just watching him. He liked how she used the words "gazing at him". It made his chest tighten. And then he read about her daydream and simultaneously laughed and wept to see that they'd fantasised about the same committed future together. At the sound of his laughter, Jemma curled herself more firmly into a ball and he squeezed her more tightly against him.

And then he read the first confession. "I am in love with Fitz." The second followed hard upon.

"Jemma!" he cried. "You do love me!" He kissed the top of her head repeatedly, the only surface of her body that she made available to him.

He gasped. "And you did kiss me that night! You were awake!"

"Were you?" he heard her muffled query.

"Yup!" he replied triumphantly. "Seems we hatched the same cunning plot."

He read on quietly a moment longer, feeling that any minute he could spontaneously combust from joy. "And you liked it." He whispered, delighted. "You liked us kissing a lot!" He could not stop gleefully chuckling at every further sentence he read.

"In fact," he went on. "You're still re-living it!"

"…Breath-taking! Knee-buckling!"

"...And you think my accent is dreamy!" he whispered incredulously.

"Hang on. You overheard my conversation with Mack?"

She kept her head down but he felt her nodding.

"Was that what brought on all that Chinese food and the beer and the Sherlock?"

She nodded again.

"Brilliant. And now I understand why you gave Mack such a hard time about the beds. You were punishing him, weren't you."

More nodding.

"Ok, well, you don't have to look at me if you're still too embarrassed, not that you have any reason to be. Would it help if I let you read my journal entry?"

The nodding became quite emphatic.

"Alright," he grabbed it up from under his swag and swiped his way to the right file. "Here you go, Simmons."

She took the device eagerly, without meeting his eye, and then flipped herself over so that the curve of her back pressed pleasantly into his side.

Jemma gasped and then giggled to see that she and Fitz had been entertaining themselves with the self-same domestic daydream.

She gave a strangled sort of cry. "Fitz! Why didn't you tell me that I was cuddling up to you in my sleep?! I thought I was dreaming!"

"I know," he laughed. "But I didn't want to say anything for fear of putting a stop to it!"

She giggled again. "You liked kissing me too."

"I most certainly did," he agreed.

"You want to spend a lot more time kissing me in the future," she read.

"I most certainly do," he nodded.

"Starting now?" she whispered.

"Well, only if that's amenable to you."

"Wait," she said, rolling over to face him at last. "If we start now, we're starting something big."

"Monumental!" Fitz cried. "Colossal! Immense! You, Jemma Simmons, actually love me!"

She laughed. "Of course I love you. I probably have done the whole time we've known each other and I've just been too dense to see it." She grew serious. "Fitz, I'm so sorry I put you through all of that awfulness and uncertainty."

He shook his head. "Any amount of awfulness and uncertainty on my part has been utterly worthwhile given that it's led us to this place of blissful certainty and requitedness!"

She beamed at him. "Alright then, about that kissing…"

It was Fitz's turn to apply the brakes. "Good things come to those who wait, Simmons. Let's have a quick think about this before you go and kiss me again and render me incapable of thought."

She shot him an almost irresistible pout but he managed to reply with a cheeky grin and stand his ground.

"I'm the one who's been the beacon of self-knowledge here. It looks like up until a couple of days ago, you were still in denial about how you felt. So seeing as I clearly have the lead where disciplined living is concerned, can I make a suggestion?"

Jemma had scoffed her way through his playful little speech but she nodded her assent.

"What if we agree to take it slow, especially while we're still out here in The Haggis. Let's make the most of our time alone together while Skye's in her chamber, but let's not rush anything. We still have to be able to function and perform our duties and be here for Skye."

Jemma nodded, her lips pursed uncertainly.

"You're not convinced?"

"Well," she paused. "What exactly do you mean by 'taking it slow'? Doesn't that usually imply that two people aren't too sure how they feel about one another and so they decide that they don't want to rush into a commitment?"

"Oh," said Fitz. "Is that what it usually means?"

"I think so, but I'm mainly getting that from American films and you know how they can be."

"Mmm," he nodded. "Because that's not what I meant by 'taking it slow' at all." He thought for a moment. "Jemma, I'm about as far gone as I imagine a man can get. I've probably been in love with you since I met you, but certainly since Trip came on the scene and frightened me into realising that I could lose you. I am happy to declare to you now, as boldly as you like, that I am most certainly not afraid of rushing into commitment. In fact, if I thought you'd enjoy it, I'd ask you to be my wife right this very minute."

She smiled sweetly at him as he reached out his hand to brush away a sparkling tear rolling down her cheek.

"My most cherished ambition, Jemma," Fitz went on, "Is that I might get to spend the rest of my life making you happy and, now that I know you quite like that idea, I am not going to shy away from it." He paused and summoned up his courage. "What I meant before, when I said we should take it slow, when I said we shouldn't rush anything, is that perhaps we should give ourselves some time before we let things develop between us… um… physically."

"Ah," Jemma nodded. "You're probably right. Coulson would have our heads if we got all caught up in one another and neglected Skye. But lots of kissing? Is that allowed?"

"Definitely," he breathed, reaching out to pull her close. "At least while Skye's unconscious."

"Long may it last," she sighed, closing her eyes as Fitz's soft lips brushed against her own.

Oh, lovely readers, please do leave a review! But PLEASE no spoilers! And clearly there's no point pretending that I'm getting anything else done so let's just embrace it...