Author's Note: Again, another short one. Hope you enjoy. I don't own any Marvel characters. Read and review!

Jemma shot up from her bed, beads of sweat clinging to her forehead and sheets thrown hastily off to the side of the cramped quarters. The falling sensation she felt during her nightmare was too realistic for her to not be jolted awake. She reached for her phone and checked the time. 2:51 AM. She unlocked it and opened her messages.

To: Fitz

Still awake?

A blinking text bubble immediately popped up, indicating he was replying.

From: Fitz

I'll be right there.

True to his word, he knocked on her sliding door six minutes later holding their two favorite mugs filled with steaming tea. She scooted over and gave him room on the mattress. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked worriedly as he sat, handing her a mug.

"I tried."

He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. "I know you did." She knew he was tired, too. He groggily mumbled when he spoke, and she saw the bags under his eyes. She doubted he was sleeping either. Your best friend almost dying will tend to do that. It was the third night in row since she jumped that he would come to her bunk with tea and try to calm her down. "Wanna talk about it?" he whispered, not wanting to wake anyone, while yawning. She nodded no. "Okay. We don't have to."

She set the half-full mug on the side table and rested her head on Fit's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He wrapped a sweatshirt covered arm around her tightly. "What for?" he asked without facing her.

"I hit you with a fire extinguisher and called your life pasty. I think that deserves an apology from me." A hidden smile played on her face, one Fitz hadn't since three days before. He didn't have to look to know it was there. He knew the voice that coincided with it.

"You don't need to. Besides, you were right."

"About your life being pasty?"

He elbowed her in the ribs. "No, dork. I meant the part where you said, 'Oh, Fitz. Don't pretend like these last few months haven't been the highlight of your entire pasty life.'"

"I do not sound like that," she interrupted.

"Anyway," he broke back. "You were right. Well, not the pasty part, but it has been the highlight of my life." She looked up towards him. "Thanks for dragging me onto the crazy train with you."

"No problem," she failed to say while yawning.

"You sound tired," he said while standing up. "You should probably get some sleep." He took a step out of the bunk before he heard her voice and felt her hand grab his.

"Leo?" Even though it was the first time she used his first name while not being cross with him, he did not dare mock her. He heard the shakiness in her breathing. She was scared. "Stay."

It was not a question. Fitz knew that. She needed him. She was scared. He turned back to face her and saw the tears pooling on her cheeks. He simply nodded, rested the mug next to her's, and sat back down. "Hey," he soothed. "You're gonna be fine. Okay?" He wrapped her in a hug, rubbing small circles on her back like his mother used to do to him after his father left. "It's okay. I'm not leaving." She moved back, and he helped wipe away her tears with his dark green sleeves. "I'll stay."

...

It was a few minutes past five in the morning when May walked by the open sliding door and saw them, tangled together in the corner of the bed, his arm protectively wrapped around her. The older agent simply laid the blanket on top of them, closed the door, and did not mention a peep of it to the rest of the team. She remembered the days after Bahrain, the days when she was in Jemma's place and Phil was in Fitz's.

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