Spy Tactics

It wasn't spying. It definitely wasn't spying. That's what Jemma Simmons told herself as she peeked out of her bedroom window at her new neighbours.

The Coulson's had moved in next door last week and, though her parents had made polite small talk once or twice with the adults, Jemma had barely interacted with them at all.

It was summer but Jemma had been holed up in her bedroom for the majority of the break. It wasn't that she was antisocial, she just had an enormous amount of university work to complete before her course began again in September. Being a biomed third year had its disadvantages. Plus she was a little intimidated by the Coulson's daughter, Skye.

Skye was cool and effortlessly charismatic, Jemma's parents already thought she was charming. Her mum had dropped anvil sized hints for Jemma to 'go and make friends'. She'd just rolled her eyes at that.

Skye also looked nice and symmetrical. Jemma liked that.

Phil and Melinda Coulson were sitting with cold drinks at their garden table. The parasol was up, keeping them shaded and mostly out of view. Jemma could really only see Phil's legs, red from the sun and crossed at the ankle. He moved and Jemma saw that he was holding a newspaper. Melinda said something - Jemma couldn't quite hear her through the open window – and he ran a hand over his sunburn. She spoke again, louder this time and seconds later Skye appeared from their conservatory carrying a towel and a bottle of suncream. She tossed the bottle to her father and turned to lay her towel on the grass.

Skye looked up.

Jemma cursed and ducked down out of view, smacking her head on the windowsill as she went. Stunned, she grabbed a sock from her fresh laundry pile and straightened up. She began wiping the window, faking cleaning while Skye looked on amused.

Oh bloody hell.

Well, she couldn't stop now, that would look even more suspicious. Perhaps Skye hadn't realised, she was wearing sunglasses so Jemma couldn't really tell where she was looking. She carried on wiping her window, going in circular motions like her mother did whenever she tidied up. In the end, her sock came away grey and she huffed, throwing it and its clean pair into her laundry basket.

Jemma was flustered and her head was throbbing as she moodily put her freshly laundered clothes away. She'd been in the middle of it when she'd started spying. No, not spying.

Later, as she put the recycling out for her mum, Jemma's phone rang. She fished it out of her jeans and answered. It was Fitz, her closest friend and flatmate at university.

"Fitz! Oh it's so good to hear your voice, how was your holiday?"

"It was alright, glad to be back. There's only so much time I can spend with my dad before I want to strangle him," said Fitz, with a bit of venom. His father was a dead beat, Fitz had never forgiven him for leaving his mother. "Anyway Simmons, I only rang to hear more about this neighbour of yours."

"Eurgh, you don't know the half of it," sighed Jemma as she sat on the low wall separating her front garden from the Coulson's before launching into the spying story. Not that it really was spying, obviously.

When Fitz had stopped laughing, he'd told her to stop being gutless and then he'd said his goodbyes. Jemma stuffed her phone back into her pocket and stood up, stretching the kinks out of her neck. She really needed a better desk chair, perhaps she could talk her dad into taking her shopping that weekend. Her feet crunched on the driveway as she started to walk back inside, she froze when she heard someone approaching.

Skye was strolling down the road to her house, huge earphones on and a shopping bag in each hand. She was singing but stopped when she caught sight of Jemma.

"Oh hello Skye."

"'Sup Jem," said Skye as she set a bag down and slipped her headphones off. Jemma could see her house key in her hand.

The silence between them began to stretch, then they both began speaking at the same time. Laughing nervously, Jemma folded her arms across her chest and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Sorry, I was just going to say that you have a lovely voice," she said it quickly and cursed silently when she felt her cheeks heat up.

"Oh, thanks," Skye grinned. "I used to be in a band back in the States, The Rising Tide, we we're pretty good."

Jemma nodded and swallowed hard, wondering how best to stop the conversation before she made a fool of herself. Yes, Fitz had said to talk to Skye but Jemma hadn't prepared herself. She was terrible with improvisation.

"And now I sound bigheaded, sorry. I mean, we we're alright. It was just a college band, nothing major," Skye pressed her mouth shut and looked away. Her free hand found its way into the pocket of her shorts.

"No, no I'm sure you were great! Honestly, I don't have a musical bone in my body. Not that it's actually possible, I've always thought that saying was completely ridiculous but I suppose linguistics doesn't have to make logical sense to be-," Jemma stopped talking and prayed that the ground would open up and swallow her.

"What happened to your head?" Skye smiled as Jemma flustered.

"Oh," she raised a hand to the bruise that had bloomed on her forehead. It was still a little tender, she should probably ice it. "I just bumped it, its fine."

"Ah, it just looks painful. I'd tell you to see a doctor but, you're studying to be one, right?"

"Yes, though I'm only a third year student. Still quite a way to go. It's fine though, I'm just going to ice it."

"I know another cure," said Skye as she set the other shopping bag down and walked over to the low wall.

"And what might that be, Skye?" Jemma tried not to tremble when Skye leaned in close and pressed a very soft kiss to the bruise on her head. "Oh, right. Well, thank you I suppose."

"Anytime," Skye had turned beet red. "I mean, if you need a repeat prescription you know where I live."

"Yes, next door."

"Right."

Jemma wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. Skye had collected her bags and was now fiddling with the key in front door. Screwing her eyes shut in frustration, Jemma span on her heel and marched quickly to her own door which had – thankfully - stayed ajar.

"Jem?" Skye shifted uneasily on her doorstep. "Would you like to go to the cinema with me this weekend? The new Jurassic Park film is out and, well, I figured you'd probably like dinosaurs because you're, like, into science. If not it's totally cool, I just thought it'd be fun and your mum keeps saying you need a break so-"

"Yes," Jemma cut her off, a little too excited by the whole idea. "I love dinosaurs."

"Awesome! Right," Skye was beaming now as she pushed her door open. "Night Jem."

"Goodnight Skye," she gave her a little wave as they both went inside.

That night, when Jemma was icing her head in the kitchen, her mother thanked her for taking the recycling out and asked what time her date was.

"It's not a date and I'm not- oh my god you set me up!" Jemma tried to scowl as her parents chuckled but, she had to admit, their matchmaking had yielded results.