AN: Don't worry, for those of you curious about SHIELD collecting information on Fitz and other things I mentioned subtlely in the last chapter and the chapter before, I haven't forgotten them. Fitz and Simmons just aren't in a position in which they can think about that. There are far more important things to think about, like Christmas! I liked writing this chapter, it made me excited for Christmas...

Christmas arrived in due time, though as always, when strung with anticipation, the wait seemed days, hours, months longer than it should have. Fitz was the last to wake up Christmas morning, the smell of porridge, bacon, eggs, and tattie scones enveloping his senses. He dressed quickly, before padding down the wooden stairs, socked feet slipping on the last one. He cursed under his breath, feeling slightly embarrassed. He rounded the corner to the living room, calling out the name of his best friend. The sounds of Bing Crosby's Christmas album hummed gently from the dusty record player, and a fire smoldered in the small living-room mantle. The evergreen in the corner, a fake, was beautifully decorated with red and gold ornaments, and warmly illuminated by the fire.

"Simmons!" He called again, forgetting he was in a house full of Simmons's, and they all turned at the sound of their name. "I meant Jemma." He apologized, and they all went back to their tasks.

"She's in the kitchen," Charles answered helpfully. Fitz walked into the kitchen where he found Jemma and her mother putting the finishing touches on Christmas breakfast.

"Fitz! Glad you're awake." She handed him a hot plate of bacon, a thin potholder beneath it, so Fitz could still feel its warmth. "Would you mind putting this on the table?" She grabbed a similar dish, following him to the dining room. The sweet, warm fragrances of Christmas filled the air as they placed the dishes side-by-side.

"Simmons," Fitz said, turning to his friend, and pulling a small box from his jacket pocket. "For you." He handed her the box unceremoniously, letting it fall to her hands despite its slight fragility. He murmured an apology. Jemma opened the box, fully sure she knew what was inside, but found herself surprised. Inside laid a tiny gold circle with another inscribed circle running perpendicular to it. In the center of the circles was a sand timer, and when the top was pushed, the sand timer flipped over and the circles swirled around it.

"Hermione's Time Turner!" She said, clipping the necklace behind her neck. "Now I can attend Advance Alien Anatomy at the same time as Holographic Engineering!" Suddenly, she stepped uncomfortably close to him. Sure, he wouldn't have minded, but he was trying to not be in love with her, and she made it damn near impossible standing this close to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing him in what turned out to be a friendly hug. "Thank you." She uttered softly. Fitz snapped out of his thoughts in just enough time to lift his arms and pat her on the back. As she pulled away, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

Instantly, he felt a warmth spread from his head to his outermost extremities. His fingers tingled, and he was unsure whether his hands still burnt slightly from the warm plate of bacon or from the warmth in his heart. Stomach fluttering, he tried his best to look unfazed, but the deep blush covering his entire face didn't help.

"S-sure." He stumbled out. "Also, not to brag, but I made it myself. Did all the soldering and everything." He began talking about things that made him less uncomfortable. He pointed at himself. "I'm an engineer, after all. A damn good one, at that."

"Eh, you're okay." She teased, running her hand down the fine chain.

"Hey! Who was it who devised a way for your creepy fish gunk to power a simple engine without clogging the piston and intake valves, huh? Think any old engineer could do that?"

"First of all, it wasn't 'fish gunk' it was the enzymes secreted by the pyloric ceca—"

"You said 'secreted', that makes it gunk." He raised his eyebrows at her. Narrowing her eyes in indignation, she glared her comeback. "But I'd be happy to deal with your fish gunk for at most the next three years." He corrected.

"Three years? What's three years?" She asked, taking a seat as her family began filing in for breakfast.

"I dunno, it just seems like a good, solid number. We'll be finishing up at…" He noticed their company for the first time, and corrected his direction, "Aaaat….?" He prompted, unable to remember where they "worked".

"Stark."

"Stark!" He chimed, "We'd be finishing our training." Mr. Simmons eyed them suspiciously, as if overhearing while reading his book, while Birdie and her son chatted away, beginning the passing and serving of food.

"What, you don't think we'll be partners?" She goaded, "Already want to get rid of me, do you?"

"Simmons, I can't imagine converting fish goo into energy for anyone else." He said, confident at first, then realizing the potential sentimentality of his statement, despite the notes of humor. He blushed, and accepted the bowl of porridge, scooping a generous portion into his own blue and white patterned bowl. "Why use the goo in the first place?" He asked, again changing the subject from a delicate matter to that of science. She explained through much of breakfast about CO2 emissions and oxygen intake of the average car and her passions for reducing their needless waste when she had perfectly good ideas to replace them. He observed her closely, the frame of her face, the color of her eyes, the bend of her nose, the passion in her voice, so that he could describe her to his mother and Gran, should she be unable to come. Eventually, Fitz's attention was seized by Mrs. Simmons, and Jemma was no longer the only person in the room he could talk to, as her family seemed to solidify into real figures as opposed to fuzzy, peripheral place holders.

After breakfast came the most exciting part of the day: presents. For no matter your age or disposition, there is nothing better in life than receiving a gift bought specially for you with thought and consideration. The joy of finally finding out what is contained within a lumpy wrap of paper of fancily decorated bag has often times been compared to true love.

Though, this fact is statistically untrue, and every occupant of the Simmons' house would contend with it.

But as Fitz was handed gifts he didn't expect to receive and watched as other members of the house opened their own, he did not think the fact far from true. Charles demanded each family member open their gifts from him first. Handing a small, square package to his father he said, "You probably already have this one." Unwrapped, it was, unsurprisingly, a book.

"I do have this. First edition, too." Dr. Simmons commented, but not ungrateful.

"Open it up." Charles prompted. The center had been cut out, and instead of the pages of The Short Stories of Leo Tolstoy, there was a pocket watch, engraved with a passive note of sentimentality:

GRS,

I like you,

Love, Your Son.

Dr. Simmons shook his head, but gave the smallest of appreciative grins. Next was the beloved matriarch of the family. For her, Charles gave a pair of beautiful pearl earrings. She gushed and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek. Finally, he handed Jemma her gift.

"Now, this is kind of for both of you," Charles turned to face Fitz, "Since I didn't really know you until this week…But I think you'll love it, regardless."

Jemma slowly unwrapped the square package, expecting a book, like her father had received. Half-way through, so only she could see, Jemma stopped. Her eyes widened. "Is this a joke?" She said, but Fitz couldn't tell if she was excited or offended. "When did this happen?" She remarked.

"What is it?" Fitz interjected, but received no response.

"While you were busy with college and career." Charles responded nonchalantly, a large smile creeping onto his face.

"Oh my word, Fitz!" She finally acknowledged her friend, handing him the package. "They've revived the Doctor!" He stared at the box, which contained an entirely new season of their favorite TV show, Doctor Who. A man with large ears wearing a leather jacket pointed a sonic screwdriver at Fitz menacingly.

"Is it that alien show?" Birdie asked, confused, but no one responded, for they were far too busy with their own dazzlement and fan-girling.

The rest of their Christmas was spent gorging themselves with Christmas candy and watching as much of the new show as they could. Fitz, Simmons, and Charles all lay on Fitz's guest bed to stare at the only TV screen in the house, one that hadn't even worked when Fitz first arrived. Meanwhile, downstairs, the sounds of Bing Crosby continued to play while Birdie organized her husband's extensive book collection and he watched her lovingly. Panning out, you'd see each section of the family in their respective rooms, laughing and smiling. Further out, the twinkling lights and wreath on their door, the snow falling gently, and light reflecting off each flake making them sparkle until they touched the ground softly completed the atmosphere. Christmas at its best, Fitz would recall, the only thing that could make it better? Nothing. Nothing but a monkey.

That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, Fitz sat in his room, sketching the designs Simmons wanted to make. Suddenly, there was a knock on his door and Jemma entered, carrying a beautifully wrapped box.

"Hey, Fitz." She said, sitting beside him on his bed. "I was going to give you this earlier today, but decided it might be better to… hold off." His eyes brightened at the mention of his favorite word. Taking the box from her, he gave it a little shake, "Hmm, is it…" Another shake, "Umm…." One last shake, before Simmons snatched it back.

"Stop shaking it, just open it!" She raised an eyebrow at him as she handed it back. He untied the ribbon and tore through the paper to reveal a white box. Carefully, he pried open the lid exposing a stuffed monkey about a foot tall. He looked up at her, a huge grin on his face.

"Just what I wanted. Thank-you Simmons." She placed her head on his shoulder.

"Happy Christmas, Fitz."

"Happy Christmas, Simmons."