Nestled on the couch in a worn old quilt that his Gran made nearly a decade before, he sipped his mug of tea to fight off the lingering chill in the house. Nervously swirling the mug slightly between sips, his eyes drawn to the tiny vortex. A literal storm in a teacup.

At least he hoped so.

He stared at his phone anxiously. It was still another two hours until Jemma would likely be up.

Mum had absolutely insisted on making the whole of brunch. If the clatter of pots in the other room was any indication, she would still be busy for some time yet. Beside, the dishes would be his later.

For his own part, he had spent most of his time since he boarded the flight second guessing his decision. What if Simmons wasn't fond of pets? What if she thought it was more an inconvenience? A pet was a big investment in terms of time and money. What if she resented the inconvenience or worse him for causing it?

It still amazed him that Simmons would trouble herself to spend as much free time as she did in his company. Shield recognized them as a joint asset, but nothing forced either of them to spend free time together. Or even to technically retain the actual physical proximity. Shield's Communications systems were robust enough to allow them to directly collaborate virtually identically whether they were standing in the same room or on opposite ends of the planet.

The decision to move into the same apartment had been purely pragmatic. Even now that impulsive decision might have mucked that up.

He stared in horror when the phone began to ring of its own volition, the latest Doctor Who theme, his ringtone for Simmons, echoing through the whole of the small living room.

Quickly doing the mental math, he was sure she was up nearly an hour and a half earlier than usual. That did not bode well. But neither did not answering.

With effort, he cleared the forming lump from his throat and answered. "Simmons."

"Oh, Fitz. He's just the sweetest thing. He's cuddled up on the bed beside me."

Fitz blinked. "He?"

"The cat, of course," Jemma confirmed. "Which reminds me. You might want to stop by medical when you get back for a vision check."

"The store told me that Peggy was a she," Fitz huffed.

"Yes. Of course," Jemma assured. Fitz could practically hear the bit of purring coming through the phone line. "I'm going to have to call him Steve. And he'll probably need to have a few more toys to keep occupied..."

Fitz let Simmons ramble on a bit, nodding at her while half listening. His lips parted, expelling a breath he hardly knew he was holding.

"Fitz?" she inquired as he grew quiet.

"You don't mind the inconvenience?"

"It is hardly more work than maintaining the occasional rodents in the lab," she laughed. "Besides, Steve is a bit more inclined to cuddling."

Fitz grew silent, unsure just how to process that nugget of information.

"Truly, Fitz. It was very sweet of you."

The tips of his ears turned red, even as he slumped further into the blanket, fidgeting. Even as she said all was well, he couldn't help but wonder if-.

"Leo!" Mum called from the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready."

"Ah, Simmons," he stammered slightly. "I have to go now. Mum's calling me from breakfast."

"Alright." He could still hear the frown in her voice. "Oh. Don't forget to call me back when you open-"

"Your gift." He smiled at the promise. "I will. Goodbye, Simmons."

"Goodbye!" she echoed.

His mother peaked her head into the room. "Was that Jemma?"

"Yes," Fitz mumbled, tossing the quilt back onto the couch and following her. His phone again safely ensconced in his pocket now that the demons of doubt had mostly been exorcised.

"Sad that she wasn't able to get out before the storm. I'm sure her family will miss her terribly."

Fitz phone buzzed, and he tugged it back out of his pocket. Simmons had snapped a photo of herself and the cat snuggled up beside her on the bed. The kitten was curled up into a tiny ball beside Simmons' wide, infectious smile.

When he finally looked up, his Mum was watching him carefully.

"At least she's not alone."