I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

This was written for the 2015 Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine fic exchange, for tumblr user upsidedownhappyland a.k.a. AthenaMuze. The prompt was "Being cute and scienceing all over the place." She also requested something at the Academy, and smut, which (even though this was my first time writing an M-rated fic) I was happy to do, because she's always been incredibly supportive and a great reader. AthenaMuze - I was so happy to get you as my Valentine; your fic parameters suited me perfectly and I've been excited about this from Day 1. I hope it's what you wanted!

(This story takes place in my head canon after Oh To Be Young and The Shots You Don't Take. It is not canon-compliant and diverges from my head canon as well.)

Deputy Director Maria Hill - "Right hand to Nick Fury himself, Fitz!" - stood at the front of one of Sci-Tech's newer lecture halls, flawless in her S.H.I.E.L.D. blacks, hands clasped behind her back as she watched Agent Holloway conclude her speech.

Holloway adjusted her glasses and shifted the notecards in her hands. "For an undercover operative, seduction can be and often is a valuable tool. However, the lengths to which an agent should go within the scope of that seduction must be her decision." She paused, pressing her palm against the podium. "No agent should be made to feel coerced into sex simply to maintain her cover - and I fear that, too often, this message gets lost in our loyalty to the cause." Holloway swallowed a breath and swept a hand over her red hair, composing herself before facing the roomful of scientists once more. "When we fail to address such concerns head-on, we do a vast disservice not only to the agents currently risking their lives behind enemy lines, but also to our future operatives: your peers, your friends, and quite possibly, even some of you."

Fitz had to stifle an incredulous noise at the thought of relying on his sex appeal while undercover. Simmons could, though; she's quite fit. Fitz sighed. Someday, he would have to train his treacherous brain to keep those thoughts out of his head. He leaned over, talking quietly into her ear. "Undercover? I'm perfectly happy tucked away in a lab, thanks."

"Hush," she chided softly, turning her attention back to the guest speaker as the students around them broke into subdued applause.

Hill stepped up to the lectern, shaking the proffered hand and nodding with a small smile. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with us, Agent Holloway." She faced the three other guest speakers, sitting placidly at the back of the hall. "And thanks again to Agents Bates-Smith, Lorenzo, and King, for shining their own light on a variety of problems within S.H.I.E.L.D. I can promise you, we've heard your complaints, and we don't intend to stand idly by."

Hill then turned her attention to the assembly. "By now you've all received a packet based on the presentations you've heard today." She cleared her throat, taking a sip of water from a steel bottle. "These issues reflect on our entire organization - don't take them lightly. Now, Agent Weaver assures me you're the best Sci-Tech has to offer, and I trust her judgment." Her serious eyes, the color of murky water, took careful stock of the 28 cadets in the room. "Just to ensure you give this project your best effort, S.H.I.E.L.D. is willing to throw in a carrot. The individual or team whose prototype shows the most promise, will get a face-to-face with Director Fury himself. Impress him," she paused for emphasis, "and you'll get enough grant money to fund any project you want." At that, the hall erupted into a low buzz of excited whispers. Hill watched, bemused and patient, until they quieted. "I'll be on the review committee that decides which ideas make it into full R&D. Don't let me down."

-o-

"Psssst. Hey. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse."

The presentation was just letting out when Fitz heard a taunting voice behind his right shoulder. He turned to see Kimberly "Kibbles" Lopez, better known as Monkey Murderer, getting up from her seat two rows back.

"You…" Fitz hissed. After a more-than-spotty history, he was glad to be graduating three years early if it meant getting away from people like her. And from the withering look she threw his way, the neuropsychologist held him in the same contempt. "How did you get on Weaver's 'brightest minds' list?"

"You know, Fatz, just because I like to have fun doesn't mean I'm an idiot." Kibbles narrowed her eyes, watching them suspiciously. "You Doogie Howsers think you've got this all locked up, huh?"

Simmons chimed in, the challenge striking flint into her voice. "Oh, we know we do."

"Yeah." He hated how petulant he sounded, tried to resist taking the bait, but couldn't stop himself adding, "And the name's Fitz, not Fatz." Sure, he'd probably put on a few pounds since discovering the Academy's all-you-can-eat dining hall, but honestly, that was just rude. Twat.

"My mistake," snorted Kibbles. "Well, I'd wish you good luck, but…"

"We don't need it?" guessed Simmons.

"...but I don't want to," she finished. Then, without further preamble, Kibbles turned and walked out.

Three minutes into this challenge and they already had someone gunning for them. Bloody fantastic.

-o-

"But, Fitz, it's perfect!"

"Then you work on it and I'll think of somethin' else to do! It's more your specialty than mine, anyway." Almost as soon as he said it, Fitz was ready to recant. If he knew one thing, it was that he did his best work paired with Jemma Simmons. Just, why does it have to be this project?

Jemma stared in disbelief. "You're not serious! We've been teaming up for two years, what makes you think I'd want to do this without you?" She leveraged imploring eyes against him. "Assuming I even could?"

Fitz squinted. "Well of course y' could, Simmons, you're nearly the smartest person at this school." And by far the prettiest.

Simmons bit down a smile at the word 'nearly'. "We're twice as smart together, you know that." She scrunched her nose in that annoyingly adorable way she had, and wheedled, "Please, Fitz? We'll be sure to win. Don't you want to meet Nick Fury? Get the chance to design your airplane?"

Fitz pickled his mouth into a pout, but there was no real peevishness to it. "Well, if you're so set on it, I suppose I'll help." The smile she gave him just then probably wasn't enough to make up for the embarrassment he felt was coming, but maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he was making it in his head. "So, what's first?"

-o-

"You need me to design… a lipstick tube."

Simmons looked up from her notes and said cheerily, "Not just any lipstick tube, Fitz! It's quite an important part of the project!"

Fitz was unconvinced. She was giving him grunt work, and he wasn't so in love with her that he'd let her get away with that. "I have a PhD, I hope you realize."

She threw him a look that said distinctly, 'Don't bring a knife to a gunfight'. "And I have two. Your point?"

He looked down, grumbling, "I just don't understand why it has to be lipstick. Why not some kind of quick-injecting mini syringe? Be fun designing that."

She paused in surprise. "Weren't you listening when I first explained it to you?"

"Erm…" Come to think of it, it was entirely possible he'd been engrossed in the way her lips moved at the time, and not so much on what she was saying.

Simmons sighed. "It's the perfect homage to Peggy Carter. Peggy Carter, Fitz-"

"Yeah, yeah." He pitched his voice higher, imitating her. "Founder of S.H.I.E.L.D., happens to be British-"

"-and had an arsenal of killer cosmetics. We'd be fools not to follow in her legacy." She was back to her earlier sunny demeanor, rambling on in excitement. "Just think how good it'll look to the judges."

It was hard to keep fussing at her when she seemed so happy. Her joy was infectious, spreading into every corner and crevice. Like glitter. The herpes of the craft world. "Yeah, alright. Looks like I'm buildin' a lipstick case, then." He scratched at the back of his neck, and scoffed lightly, more joking than put out. "Need anythin' else while my talents are bein' wasted? A new set of butter knives, perhaps?

She giggled, and the sound rose up around him like a warm bath. "Don't worry, Fitz, you'll have plenty to do once we start testing."

Right, testing, of cour- wait. "What?"

-o-

"Y'know, Simmons, I went along with it when you told me you wanted to design an anti-erectile compound-"

"Yes, to help undercover agents avoid sex without blowing their covers, it's the perfect-"

"-despite bein' fairly uncomfortable with the subject matter-"

Simmons rolled her eyes. "Ugh, Fitz! We're scientists-"

"-now you want to test it on me? That's…" he gaped, unable to form his objection into a coherent argument. There was a porcupine sitting on his diaphragm; it prickled into his chest every time he considered the implications of what she wanted him to do. Oh, nothin' to see here, just discussing the details of my flaccid penis with the girl I fancy. "It's crossin' the line, Simmons."

She frowned, brows high, a snapping turtle swimming up her voice. "Well I would test it on myself, but I can't exactly maintain an erection to start with!"

"And you think I can?" Wait. Fuck. Fitz pinched the bridge of his nose between closed eyes and held up a hand. "No- no, of course I can, what I mean is-"

"I know what you meant, Fitz." Simmons had gone quiet, wrapping her right hand around her left elbow and vice versa. She sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for not listening to you before. I'd rather work with you, but- if you're that uncomfortable… I can find someone else to help with testing." She breathed in, chewing at her lip. "Jonesy, perhaps."

Dear God, no. The last thing that troglodyte needed was another reason to discuss his boners. Bro-ners, Fitz's brain corrected automatically. He coughed, throat suddenly a bit dry. "Jonesy? Is that really… erm, why him, exactly?"

Simmons shrugged. "Well, for one, he's quite easygoing, and it takes a lot to embarrass him. Although," she made a face, "I don't relish the prospect of kissing him. Perhaps I could ask Anderson..." she trailed off, musing softly about the seemingly bottomless well of exes she might contact for help, and busied herself tidying up her workstation.

Fitz ran a hand over his jaw. Though she was covering it admirably, Simmons' disappointment was a scythe at his neck, and he felt incredibly guilty forcing her to go through her 'Rolosex' of former boyfriends for alternative test subjects. He opened his mouth to apologize, when something about her words floated back to him. "Whoa- kissing? What're you talking about?"

Her tone was matter-of-fact as she carefully packaged her samples for storage. "Well, it is based off Agent Carter's knockout lipstick. It only makes sense to set up testing conditions that would mimic the way the product's going to be used in the field."

"All right, but then, you- you're gonna-"

"Administer it?" She peeled off her gloves, watching him closely. "Yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Right, okay." Fitz nodded once, processing the new information. Despite his nervousness about using the product himself, the idea of Jemma kissing anyone else, undoubtedly in front of him, twisted his guts into sailor's knots. His memory shot, unwanted, to those few nights when he'd seen her on a date, and he knew instantly that he never wanted to feel that way again. "Actually, no- you know what?" He screwed up one side of his face, pretending to think. "I don't think we should share the details of our project with anyone. Cutthroat competition and all that."

A smile unfurled slowly over the corner of her mouth, and she looked as though she were enjoying a secret joke. "Are you sure, Fitz? I'm sure with the right confidentiality clause-"

"And in what parallel universe d' you think Jonesy is capable of keeping his mouth shut? Especially on the topic of, y'know, Bonesy?"

"You make a good point." She raised her eyebrows, plainly pleased.

"Yes, well, I'm rather known for my smarts, Simmons."

"So you're saying you'll help?" She stepped closer, tossing her used gloves in the bin, and clasped her hands expectantly.

"I mean… I just think it'll be better for the project if I'm the one to test it with you. You know, for- for science."

"Absolutely." Simmons bounced up on her heels and quickly pecked his cheek, beaming. "Oh, Fitz, this invention is going to help so many people!"

Fitz pretended his ridiculous grin was due to her enthusiasm, and not the kiss he could still feel resonating through his face. Maybe this won't be so bad.

-o-

This is a disaster. There was no way Fitz could keep all of this information straight. He clicked on another image thumbnail, this time a French kissing tutorial. He didn't think that the lipstick trial would go quite so far, but it couldn't hurt to be ready, just in case.

At least this one has pictures. Most of the sites he'd found focused on how to behave on a date: how to flirt, drop hints, read the signs of rejection - now there's one that'll probably come in handy - in short, all useful tips, but not exactly germane to his situation, and he was beginning to stress out. Fitz had merely wanted to remind himself where all the different parts of his mouth were supposed to go. And what do I do with my hands again?

Instead, the Internet seemed set on reminding him that he was not dating Jemma, and that if he was going to be kissing her, he probably should be. But Fitz couldn't afford to dwell on those kinds of thoughts - he'd seen the men she dated, and the ones that hit on her shamelessly, which was why he knew enough not to entertain the idea that she might want to kiss him for some reason other than science. Down that road lies madness.

Groaning, Fitz dropped his face into his palms and rubbed his thumbs over his temples. He was making entirely too much of this. It wasn't his first kiss, after all. Hell, it wasn't even his first kiss with Simmons. So why was he getting so nervous? Someone needs to write one of these called 'How to kiss the woman of your dreams without letting on you like her'. And the sequel: Just grow a pair and tell her, you fucknut.

Still, he supposed, scrolling past an infographic on foods to avoid before kissing, it could be worse. I could have braces, too.

-o-

Perfect. Fitz finished smoothing out the last groove in the metal cylinder of the lipstick casing, dusting it off with a microfiber cloth. Simmons' specs had actually proven a tad bit more challenging than he'd originally thought - he'd had to come up with an alloy that wouldn't react with the medication inside the makeup - a welcome distraction from the thought of what said medication would do to him. But for now, he was simply pleased at a job well done. He was so engrossed in admiring his handiwork, in fact, that he completely missed what Simmons had been saying.

"Fitz?" Simmons asked as she switched her attention between her legal pad and the simulation currently running on her computer screen. Her eyes flicked to him, pausing in between jotting down notes on the yellow paper. "How many data points do you think we should aim for?"

A sound suspiciously like a squeak jumped in Fitz's throat. Data points. The number of times they'd test the product. The number of times they would need to kiss. He tried not to sound too eager. "Obviously, the more thorough we are, the better our chances of winning, yeah?" Cool. Be cool, man. His lifted one shoulder in an I-don't-even-care shrug. "I suppose we could just aim to test as many variables as we can…"

Simmons tapped the end of her pen against her lip. "True. There are a number of conditions in the field that could affect how well the drug works on the target. We don't have to test everything, of course - when we win, they'll conduct more extensive trials, but at the very least we should measure the rates of absorption across the mucous membranes-"

"Try it on a full versus empty stomach-"

"-different initial rigidity levels-"

"-any interactions with alcohol-"

"-oh, and compare it against a placebo, I think."

They ran out of words together, while Fitz did some quick calculations in his head. "And the deadline's in a month?"

"29 days, actually." Simmons raised both eyebrows, swiveling in her computer chair to face him. "We'd better get to work."

Author's Note

Agent Holloway is named after Joan Holloway from Mad Men. The other guest speakers at Sci-Tech are also references to fictional women who suffered some kind of sexual attack or coercion.

Jonesy and Kibbles are frequent guest stars in my Academy universe and first appear in Oh To Be Young.

Anderson is an oblique reference to Elizabeth Henstridge's real-life boyfriend.

Fitz's "first kiss with Simmons" occurs in The Shots You Don't Take.

If you want to read a truly fantastic story that incorporates "kissing for science" check out Don't Try This At Home by awkwardspiritanimals. And for the NSFW version of kissing for science, check out the utterly side-splitting An Elaborate Proof by memorizingthedigitsofpi

Acknowledgements

Thanks as ever to my beta Amanda, amandajoyce118 / amandajbruce, for being awesomely supportive and just a generally good person and for always being on hand to answer questions that are probably way too specific to worry about. Her work is also fantastic and you should go read it next. Thanks, gorgeous!

Shout out to badscienceshenanigans, lavendergaia, and eclecticmuses, who helped me brainstorm different possible directions for the fic when I first got my prompt - there were at least five ways this could've gone, but I'm happy with the one I chose!

lavendergaia is just the best gosh-darn smut consultant I could have asked for - she's a real sweetheart to work with, and you should definitely check out her submissions for this fic exchange because they are pants-down amazing!

And the inimitable badscienceshenanigans deserves all the props for being a laboratory badass and coaching me on the "science" part of the prompt, and for suggesting and helping me flesh out so many ideas it's ridiculous - science is not my wheelhouse, y'all, and she's incredibly busy but still went out of her way for me, and she's hilarious and you should all be reading Copenhagen.

I just do not deserve all these wonderful ladies!