They were sitting on a bench under an oak that would have shaded them later in the day, but at this early hour merely made for a convenient place to wait for the library to open up. Simmons tapped away at her laptop while Fitz pretended to read, fretting instead over the fact that their last Limpstick test was that night. The thought of never kissing her again churned up his insides, fresh snow in the path of a dogsledding team. Do I say something? On the one hand, there'd been occasional clues that Jemma enjoyed kissing him - the comforting press of her body against his, her arms snugging him closer, her tongue sweeping into his mouth like sunlight flooding a darkened room. He'd been over the details time and time again. If he could have been sure of the outcome, Fitz would have attempted any grand, twee, Nicholas-Sparks gesture to show her how he felt.

On the other, even if she was having fun kissing him, Fitz knew it likely meant nothing - It's simple biology had all but been her mantra that month, as many times as she'd repeated it when he'd gotten hard and nervous in front of her. And even if he could have convinced her they needed further research, with the deadline in a few days there was no chance of keeping up the trials anymore. His cocoon was about to break apart, and he could either risk the most important relationship in his life, hoping for a butterfly, or end up a cold, shriveled mess of gooey regret.

Fitz looked over at Simmons, placidly reading, comfortably silent and blissfully unaware of his inner quagmire. God, she's gorgeous. The seven a.m. sun glinted off her earrings - a pair he'd made from leftover deformable wing parts, after their first joint project - and he had to remind himself that he was already the luckiest guy he knew, just by virtue of getting to talk to her every day. I can't mess that up.

Simmons broke him out of his musing with a befuddled frown and a surprised hmm.

"Fitz? Did you get an e-mail from Agent Weaver?"

"Hold on." He pulled his phone out from his jacket pocket and flicked it on. "Yeah…" he said, chewing at the cuticle on his thumb. "What do y' suppose that's about?"

"She's penciled us in for a meeting later today." Simmons furrowed a trepid brow, staring down at the screen. "I suppose we'll just have to wait to find out."

-o-

"Cadets Fitz, Simmons, please come in." Agent Weaver ushered them into her office and sat behind an imposing cherrywood desk, motioning for them to do the same in the leather-backed chairs opposite her. After a few seconds of settling in, she faced them with a stern gaze.

"Now, I know the pair of you are on the fast track to graduate at the end of this year. And your time at Sci-Tech has, thus far, been exemplary. Several of your prototypes have already been put into production. You should feel proud of your accomplishments."

They nodded, curious what this was about.

"However," she flattened them under an admonishing anvil of a look, "that does not mean you are exempt from the Student Code of Conduct. I received a rather disturbing account of your activities in the lab, and I thought it only fair I give you a chance to respond to these accusations directly."

Fitz looked at Jemma, her face a pale mirror of his own anxiety.

"Erm," Simmons squeaked, "accusations?"

Fitz, the beginning of his question overlapping the end of hers, managed, "What've y' heard?"

Weaver reached into her desk and retrieved a typewritten sheet. She read, "Cadets Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons were observed engaging in a variety of acts inappropriate for the laboratory environment - among them, prolonged body contact, kissing, indecent exposure and masturbation." She fixed them with a raised eyebrow. "Well? Is there any truth to this?"

There was no small amount of gaping at each other while they each tried to come up with something to say. Fitz's mind was a mess of pounding hoofbeats. They'd purposely set up the privacy screen to block the lab's cameras. The only way someone had seen behind the screen - oh God I'm gonna be sick - was if they'd rigged up their own independent surveillance. And considering the stakes of the competition, and the fact that their lab was shared by a dozen or so other contenders, it could really be anyone. But only one name was coming to mind. "Kibbles…" he growled, even as Jemma interjected with a high-pitched, breathless ramble.

"Agent Weaver, ma'am."

He could see Jemma's hands tightening on each other in her lap, her go-to tactic to keep them from flying up to her neck. She took a nervous breath and barrelled on.

"I can assure you, every one of those activities was conducted under perfectly controlled circumstances as part of our project for Commander Hill. You can ask Doctor Subramanyan! She helped us set up the double-blind trial. To be fair, we have been keeping the details of our experiment secret, due to the nature of the competition, but if you'd like to see the data we've gathered so far," she reached into her messenger bag and pulled out an enormous binder, "I can take you through-"

"That won't be necessary, Cadet." Weaver's eyes narrowed slightly, assessing. "I'll be looking into this, however, so be prepared to turn your research over at my request. And I don't think I need to remind you that co-worker fraternization is highly discouraged by S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol." Her gaze softened into something a bit like compassion. "You may not be full agents yet, but make no mistake - top brass is aware of you. If you're to be placed at a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility after graduation, we expect you to behave appropriately."

Simmons had been nodding furiously along while Weaver spoke, and jumped to fill the silence when she stopped. "I can promise you, there is nothing to worry about on that front." Jemma leaned forward, earnest and needy, hands waving in negation. "Fitz- Cadet Fitz and I- we're not involved romantically, at all." She twitched, looking to him for confirmation. When no one spoke immediately, Simmons turned back to Weaver and rolled on ahead. "Naturally, in a partnership as successful as ours, there are bound to be rumors floating about, but we've certainly never done anything-" she swallowed, an awkward giggle bubbling. "Honestly, if this one," she mugged animatedly, pointing her thumb at him, "has any attraction to me, I'll eat my hat!" She paused, a small grimace marring her mouth. "Though clearly I'm not wearing a-"

Fitz put her out of her misery, interrupting with a cough. "Simmons is right, Agent Weaver. You don't have t' worry about us - there's nothin' goin' on."

-o-

"Fitz, we need to talk."

He didn't want to discuss it. "What's there to talk about?" You made it perfectly clear you're not attracted to me, 'at all'.

She sighed. "Well, for one, who's been spying on us."

Fitz rounded on her, incredulous. "C'mon, Simmons. Who do y' think? Who's had a vendetta against us since freshman year and shares the lab and has a weak enough moral compass to justify spying. Mmm?"

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Well, it might not have been her, Fitz - a lot of the high-ranking Sci-Tech cadets are intimidated by us."

He leveled her with a flat stare.

"All right, all right. But what do you propose we do? Kibbles is devious; she would have submitted that letter anonymously-"

"Right, she'd want to get us into trouble-"

"-without risking investigation herself for her unsavory methods-"

"-and nothing to link back to her. But," Fitz's jaw clenched as a steel thought clanked into place, "there is something we need to do."

-o-

They stormed into the lab just as Kibbles was packing up her things.

"Hey! You can't just barge in like-" she cried out, face like a wasp.

"Headed home, Lopez?" he bit out. "Don't mind us - we'll only be a second." Fitz scanned the cabinets along the walls. With the way they'd set up their privacy screen, there were only a few places a hidden camera could be. He focused in on the wall right next to the fire extinguisher, squinting at the spot where a tiny section of plaster seemed to be chipped away. The shadow from the canister made it hard to spot without expressly looking for it, but Fitz dug his fingers in, felt around and pulled out a small spy-cam. "Before you go, though-" Throwing it on the tile floor, he crunched it under his sneaker and picked it back up. "Looks like you forgot something."

"You entitled, leprechaun-looking little asshole!" Kibbles was cursing. "Do you even know how expensive that is? That's S.H.I.E.L.D. spy-tech, moron."

At least she wasn't trying to deny it. "Shouldn't have used it t' screw us over, then."

"No you don't, you curly bag of dicks." She waved a threatening index finger in his face. "You've spent the last two years waving your trumped-up genius in my face. You broke it? You're gonna fix it."

"And why in the seven Hells," Fitz squared his shoulders, refusing to back down, "would I do a thing like that?"

"Because I've got video of you," Kibbles smiled, reptilian, "in the lab, hands down your pants, blowing reveille for your little fallen soldier. For hours. You really want that to get out?"

"Ugh, honestly, Kimberly!" Simmons' bored tone threw him for a loop. "Fitz isn't going to fall for this silly blackmail nonsense. If you've seen the footage, you know that anything you have on tape is just more record-keeping for our experiment! I, for one, would love to have a copy."

What is she doing? Was she serious? Did Simmons honestly think he wouldn't care whether the entire student body saw video of… his student body? And she wants a copy?

Kibbles switched her glare between the two of them, back and forth like a game of Pong. "I don't think so, Jenna. I've got you onscreen sucking face with Fizzledicks here, and I caught you showing him your ta-tas." She crossed her arms, victory oozing off her like smog. "Weaver might have a soft spot for you nerds, but I show that video to any other ranking officer in S.H.I.E.L.D., and I could destroy your precious little partnership before it even gets off the ground." She took a few steps menacingly towards Jemma. "Which is why you're bluffing."

Simmons rolled her eyes, but Kibbles leaned into her personal space.

"So you listen up: I am gonna need my camera back, and while we're making a wish list - you two," she pointed between them, "drop out of Hill's competition."

Simmons snorted blithely. "Do your worst." She pushed her face right into Kibbles', nose to nose, a pair of spitting cobras staring each other down. "Now, are you going to leave, or do I need to throw a stick?"

Fitz was feeling a lot of things at that moment, but tied for first was a sharp sense of awe at Jemma's trash-talking. He blinked, then snapped his fingers. "I get it! It's a dog joke, because her name is Kibbles."

Simmons arched a brow. "No, Fitz. It's a dog joke because she's being a bitch."

-o-

Fitz had been in a fair few fights during his time - was it really a fight if he was being stuffed into lockers and thrown into mud puddles? - but he'd never had to put himself in the middle of a catfight before. It's not nearly as sexy as it sounds. By the time he'd pulled Kibbles off and dragged Simmons out of the lab, thankfully unharmed, he was out of breath and his mind was reeling as he thumbed the ruined spy-cam in his pocket. They wandered vaguely in the direction of the dorms.

It was something of a surprise when they both spoke at the same time, not because of the act itself, which was a staple in their friendship, but because they were on such drastically different wavelengths.

"I think I can fix the camera if I just-"

"Well, obviously we're not going to fall for her little-"

Fitz stared at his best friend, his partner, who was normally so supportive, in open-mouthed shock. "Simmons - you can't possibly mean to gamble on this."

"Where's the gamble? There's no way I'm dropping out of the competition, that's certain, especially not now. We've got to show her she can't just push us around, Fitz!"

"Right, okay, except- didn't you hear her? I know you were playing it cool in there, but I didn't think you were serious!"

"Oh, come on, Fitz! If - assuming the footage is even clear - she were to show all of Sci-Tech that video, what would they see? A pair of scientists, testing a product, monitoring bodily functions and gathering data! We can't possibly get into trouble for-"

"What would they see? What would they see, Simmons? Erm, well, how about my testicles? Or does my privacy mean nothing to you anymore?"

She shifted her weight, somewhere between a childish bounce and a stamping foot. "Of course I care about that! I kept up Subject Zero's anonymity in all my notes, didn't I?" Her brow knitted. "But this business with Kibbles, it feels like an empty threat. Besides, even if it's not, my breasts are also in the video, and you don't see me worrying needlessly!"

"Well, of course not, they're perfect-" gulp "-ly average, why would you ever be ashamed about anything?" Nice save. He squinted casually, settling one hand on his hip.

She might've been blushing, but between her agitation and the recent girl-on-girl fiasco reddening her skin, he honestly couldn't tell. "Ugh, Fitz!" She waved her hands, setting off on another rant. "Why do you think governments don't negotiate with terrorists?" She stopped walking and gripped at his elbows, insistent, just for a few seconds. "We're so close to the finish line - we can't just let her win!"

Fitz was keenly upset by Kibbles' demands, but if he was being honest, the bigger violation had come from Simmons, casually thinking she could volunteer his naked body like that. Her loyalty really is to science. It was something she said at times, but here he'd been thinking it was a joke, all this time. Reality splashed icy over his skin, chilling him despite the warm summer afternoon. He stepped back.

"You know what, I've just- I need some time on my own. I've got to think about a few things."

Simmons sighed, the heavy sound of a woman burdened. "Fitz, you can't let her get to you like this…" She put a soft hand on his arm, but he couldn't meet her eyes. "Everything will be fine, I promise."

Making all sorts of declarations today, aren't we? He shook her hand off, and she stiffened.

Her voice was cautious when she spoke. "Just be back in the lab at seven, yeah? We've got the last trial." Her fingers braved his arm again, rubbing lightly against his sleeve. "Please, Fitz. I need you."

He'd never refused her before, not when her voice got sweet and imploring like that. But there's a first time for everything. He finally looked up into her hazel eyes, his heart splitting like a ripe cantaloupe.

Fitz's next words, barely more than whispers, scalpelled at his chest. "I don't know, Jemma."

Author's Note

For a better story that incorporates Fitz angst about having to stop kissing Jemma after he's gotten used to it, please see Wait Out the Sun by Verbivore8642