They ended up in a no man's land of touch and temptation, attempting to define the lines between them, tracing them into each other's skin. Jemma's attention was sure and efficient, no less affectionate for having the weight of practice behind it. The sting of his injury sparked and soothed under her ministrations, but Fitz would have bruised every joint on his body if it meant having her pressed against him, whispering her actions into his ear and describing the chemical and biological effects of each remedy she used. Jemma's voice was pure nostalgia, sun glinting through the rainbow spray of a garden hose and young feet running bare on new grass - and safe in the gentle, scientific hum of her words, Fitz let his head drop forward and was simply, gratefully happy.

-o-

Jemma was driving him batty, and he didn't mind a bit. Although, honestly, it was a tad unfair - she'd just told him nothing was going to happen tonight, and here she was, unbuttoning her blouse with a very sexy glint in her eye and a throaty "my turn" that left him with boiled celery for knees. He still wasn't convinced this wasn't all an elaborate prank. Pull yourself together, man. He could do this. He'd survived earlier when she straddled him, hadn't he? And he'd even gotten a handful - for the purposes of pilfering her phone, that's all. He could be a gentleman. He could be whatever she needed.

Right now, the way she was biting her lip had him fairly glad he'd changed out of his tux and into jeans after the Spectacular. He had a feeling he might soon appreciate the coverage that the thicker fabric provided.

Fitz rubbed his hands together and wondered anxiously how many massages Jemma'd had in her life. Probably loads. A flutter of bright silk caught the edge of his vision and he jerked his head up to see Jemma pulling her blouse from her jeans and off her shoulders. Oh, bless me, Father. He ducked his chin to his chest, silently repeating the names of every Willy Wonka character until he felt her stretch out on the mattress behind him. Only then did Fitz allow himself a look, and in fairness, it had been a few years since he'd been this close to a topless woman, but he could safely say his heart stopped. Jemma's back was pale and creamy, spotted with freckles at the shoulder and a couple of light brown moles farther down. And by God, she was perfect.

"Did you want to unclasp my bra?" she asked, slightly muffled from where she'd rested her head on her arms.

The noise that left his throat next could only be called a whimper. That settles it. Jemma was clearly intent on murder via sexual frustration. He positioned his hands on the back of her waist, just above the tuck of her hips, and moved them up slowly, dragging his palms around her rib cage and kneading at the muscle on either side of her spine with his thumbs. "Better not," he murmured, "I might get too distracted t' be of any use."

"Ah, well in that case," she taunted, laughter bubbling to the surface, "perhaps I ought to put my shirt back on."

Please no. Of course she could do what she wanted, but that was as bad as hearing his favorite author had died or his favorite show had been cancelled.

"No, no but- Jemma, remember?" he rushed in, "That stuff'll stain, you said." He punctuated his objection with a deep press against the wide muscles at the join of her shoulder blade and neck - Lord, she was tight - not like that - and was rewarded with an honest-to-goodness moan. "And I'd hate to ruin your shirt," he finished, a bit more gruffly than perhaps intended.

"Mmm? You like it?"

Despite the sleepy note her voice was taking on, he could sense she was gearing up for another terrible, wonderful joke at the expense of his libido, but couldn't bring himself to care. "It's," he cleared his throat, "it's a very nice shirt."

Jemma twisted just enough to throw a mischievous smile his way.

"Just think how good it'll look when it's on your bedroom floor."

-o-

They ended up falling asleep on top of the duvet, lying back-to-front like a pair of bananas, curled up and possessive. After Jemma nodded off, Fitz dropped down beside her, too exhausted from the day's events to do much more than drag up a blanket over them, wrapping her arms tight around his middle and nudging his legs safely over her bent knees like a mother hen. It was late enough that the air had begun to take on an aura, lightly rainbowed halos around every object, but it was also early enough that Fitz had an idea.

-o-

Jemma was not freaking out. True, it was a bit disconcerting to wake up, tangled up in sheets that still smelled of the minty athletic cream she'd rubbed into Fitz's shoulder, and to find a hastily scrawled note where she'd expected to see his curly head.

you looked very peaceful sleeping
didn't want to wake you
back soon

Fitz

But she was not freaking out. For one thing, Jemma was secure enough to know that only a supreme idiot would walk out on her, and Fitz was no idiot. Perhaps he'd been called away by Mack? Perhaps he wanted a set of clean clothes, or something to eat that wasn't - she checked her refrigerator - kale or sriracha? Perhaps a lot of things. It did no good to speculate.

After all - she exhaled in relief when she spotted it - would he have left his button-up and his tie if he'd been planning to stay away? Or - she heard a muffled ringing and tugged at the couch cushions - would he have forgotten to retrieve either of their phones from the sofa before he left? Certainly not. She had nothing to worry about.

In fact, this could be the perfect chance to tidy up a few things around the flat, pop in a load of wash, and - she was feeling optimistic - boost her self-esteem with a bit of personal grooming. Truth be told, if she was going to bring out the good china, she wanted it clean enough to eat off of.

But first, Skye was insistently calling. "Hello?"

"Oh my god I heard what happened at the show! Are you okay? I've been calling all morning!"

Jemma couldn't help but be touched by her friend's concern. "I'm fine. Fitz-"

"Yeah, it's all over the station! Vaughn's telling everyone how Fitz set you up with some weird porn show in the finale? Ugh, and you liked him, too! Asshole!"

"No, you don't-"

"I'm really sorry, Jemma. We're sure as shit not hiring him now."

"Skye, I'm tryi-"

"Hey, Trip's mom owns a joke shop, you want me to get something to prank him with? Joy buzzer? Exploding cigarette?"

Skye's mile-a-minute commiseration was sweet, but it was setting Jemma's teeth on edge as she fought to get in a word.

"Skye!" She finally got the pause she needed. "Fitz was not to blame for last night's debacle. He went out of his way to help me, in fact, but if you want to sack someone, please take Lincoln to task for his carelessness."

"Wait, what?" Skye practically screeched. "Lincoln messed up your show?"

"I doubt he meant to; as you know, it was John Garrett who-"

"Snaked your fireworks, yeah, I got your message."

"Yes, and while Lincoln is very earnest, I'm afraid a mistake of that magnitude simply-"

"Oh, don't worry, Jemma. As soon as I talk to May, we're going on a firing spree." Skye's tone was fierce and vengeful. "I've been wanting to get rid of Lincoln ever since I caught him trying to see me naked, and Garrett - that guy just creeps me out."

Jemma smiled. Skye could be a tad overenthusiastic when she found a cause to believe in, but she was loyal to the people she considered family. "That's fine. As long as it's clear that Fitz stays."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, sorry I misjudged your boyfriend." Skye meant to tease, but little did she know how right she was.

"I can hardly fault you for that; it's not as if Fitz hasn't made mistakes. Why, just last night, he picked my pocket." She chewed on her lip. "Perhaps I should get him back…"

"He picked your pocket?" Skye snorted. "Okay, Oliver Twist. Did you tell him you needed a good deep Dickens?"

"No! Honestly, Skye." Jemma blushed. "But that reminds me, he's due to return any time, so I should go."

"Holy crap! Jemma!" she shrieked. "So when you said 'last night' you meant, like… last night!" She squealed straight into Jemma's ear. "Oh my god did he pull out his wand? Did he ask you to do your Hermione thing?" Skye was having far too much fun with this. "It's wingardium levi-oh-sa, not wingardium levio-saaaah… aahhhhh, just like that, god, yes!"

"I'm hanging up now!" Jemma sang out.

"No, no, but I have so many more-"

"Toodles!"

Jemma shook her head as she ended the call. She wasn't a prude - in point of fact, if she had her way, Fitz would soon discover that not tonight really was the opposite of not today. But that didn't mean she wanted to discuss all the tawdry details before the fact. The first text came buzzing in less than a minute later.

[From Beeeef: so did he make ur legs open sesame]

[From Beeeef: did you rub his lamp]

[From Beeeef: did he make ur panties disappear]

[From Beeeef: oh damn did he stick his hand into ur top hat]

[From Beeeef: did he shuffle ur deck]

[From Beeeef: did u charm his snake]

[From Beeeef: omg did u swallow his sword]

Some of those are rather good. Jemma clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth thoughtfully, making a mental note of her favorites before scrapping the idea. She doubted she'd need puns or innuendo to seduce Leopold Fitz.

By the time he got back to Jemma's place, Fitz was tired and cranky and incredibly hungry. As it turned out, the croissantwich he'd gotten at 3 Brothers wasn't enough to make up for the previous day's activity-level-slash-sleep-deprivation. And of course he'd forgotten his phone and had no way to let Jemma know what he was up to, or if he wanted her to come pick him up, which after a mere two hours of sleep, he definitely did want. Which was why, after walking all that way with his paper sack and two large coffees (and one extra special surprise) Fitz was more than a little miserable. But as he climbed the stairs to her apartment, remembering everything that had happened there, his mood started to pick up.

Jemma Simmons, though. Jemma Simmons was waiting for him, and she liked him, and she was probably going to kiss him. Unless she's pissed off at how long I've been gone. She probably wouldn't stay too angry, though, once she saw the lengths he'd gone to to make up for her Mother-Hubbard-esque fridge. And if he'd done it mostly because his gnawing stomach refused to let him sleep, well, she didn't need to know that part.

Fitz unlocked the door with the spare key he'd found that morning and eased it open.

Greeted with an empty living room and the sound of a shower running - don't think about it, you massive perv - Fitz put up the food and flopped onto the couch, where he tipped his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes. The notion of falling over sideways flitted through the fog inside his skull - might be nice to lay down - until he decided that even that small amount of movement would be too much work. Fitz groaned, reveling in the complete, melty sweetness of the exhaustion overtaking him. His body could've been contorted like a police chalk outline and in that moment he wouldn't have cared.

The next thing he could remember was Jemma speaking above him. Fitz screwed his eyes shut at the sound, far too comfortable to come out of his stupor.

"Where did you go?"

He may have been too sleepy to open his eyes, but he was never too sleepy to wind her up. "Dunno what you mean. Been here the whole damn time."

"Oh, I see." She snorted. At least she's playing along. "Well, I suppose if you prefer the couch, I can have the bed all to myself."

Eyes still closed, Fitz let out a quiet "Noooooo…" at the implication, and she snickered before cautioning, "Just so you're aware, the next time you run away in the middle of the night, someone had better be dead."

"Aww, Jemma," he cooed, "did you miss me? You sap."

"Not at all." The sly smile in her voice set off a warning bell. "In fact, your little disappearance gave me a golden opportunity to… catch up on a few missed voicemails?" Fitz's eyes flew open, his hands fumbling around the cushions, trying to remember where he'd tucked his phone away the night before. "By the way, you really ought to lock your screen."

Fitz twisted in his seat to glare at her where she stood behind the couch. And promptly felt his face stop working. Because Jemma was standing there with wet hair and bright eyes, holding out his phone, wearing nothing but a smirk and a towel.

Author's Notes:

From now on, chapter updates will be every other day. So, you should have something new on Thursday!