"Do you think she knows? Oh, bloody Hell!" Jemma was pacing, hands twisting at the hem of her jumper until he thought it might be stretched into uselessness. "Is this what disobeying a direct order feels like? What are we going to do? I can't lie to Anne Weaver." She turned to him, wild-eyed. "Have you seen me try to lie? Have you?"

Fitz finished tying his shoes and jumped off the bed, crossing the room quickly and wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "Hey…" He rubbed comforting fingers up and down her spine, murmuring, "It's gonna be fine. We haven't broken any actual rules, yeah? This meeting might not even be about," he nodded towards the bed, "that. And even if it is, you'll be brilliant. Okay?" He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "You were fine when she mentioned it yesterday."

That seemed to make things worse, as she whined miserably into his shoulder, "Well, we weren't dating yesterday!"

A slow smile crept over his face like sunrise. "Dating?" His fist came up behind her back, pumping the air in triumph.

She pulled back to stare at him incredulously, head tilted in a familiar the-Hell-are-you-on-about expression. "Of course, dating. Now, can we please focus on what we're going to say to Weaver?"

The only thing Fitz could focus on was the jubilant lub-dub resonating in his chest. Dating. This was going to be a regular thing. He tried to bring his face under control, but it was like asking the Dead Sea to lay off the salt. Fitz knew he should be more worried. There was undoubtedly surveillance all through the dorms, and if anyone was keeping tabs on them - an ominous possibility, given Kibbles' threats and Weaver's 'gentle reminder' - they'd easily put two and two together.

Right now, though? All he could think was that, despite his every expectation, Simmons had seen his… credentials, and rather than laughing in his face, she'd offered him the job. Oh, yeah. She wants the PhD.

-o-

"I spoke to Dr. Subramanyan about your project. It's extremely promising." Agent Weaver's face was kind as they found themselves once again on the other side of her desk. "So promising, in fact, that I forwarded the information to Commander Hill, and she'd like to fast-track it to Phase 2."

Jemma's face was a bouquet of daisies, sitting up like an exclamation point and turning to him in astonishment. "Fitz!" Her hand came out, presumably to grip his, but at the last minute she redirected her arm and pounded her palm on the cushioned arm of his chair instead. "That's great news! Thank you, Dr. Weaver!"

"It's a real honor, thanks," Fitz nodded, speaking at the same time. His next thought gave him pause, and he coughed, slightly unsure. Do not want t' seem greedy. "So, erm…" he fumbled, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

Simmons picked up on his train of thought. "Does this mean we won the competition?" she beamed.

Agent Weaver's eyes measured them for a beat. "It's certainly another feather in your combined cap, and you've impressed the Deputy Director, but don't thank me just yet." She picked up the mug on her desk and took a dainty sip. "Due to the nature of the prototype-"

"-the Limpstick," Fitz supplied.

"Yes, the… Limpstick… if word of this invention were to get out, it would be worthless. As such, this project is now classified. Level 3 and above."

But we're not even Level 1. Simmons said as much out loud.

"Indeed." Weaver was all business now. "You will no longer be involved. You're to turn all of your findings over to me directly by the end of the day. And, as you've no doubt surmised, you'll need to keep mum on all aspects of your research. As for the competition, considering the notoriety that usually surrounds the top contenders and the degree of 'buzz' those inventions tend to create, I'm afraid this requires you to drop out of the running."

Fitz was flabbergasted, and from the corner of his eye he saw Simmons pale, equally in shock. Drop out? True, the Limpstick was Simmons' brainchild more than his, but like all of their joint endeavors, it didn't matter who'd had the original idea - they'd built on it together. The side of Fitz that wanted to show off his scientific prowess joined forces with the much louder side of him that wanted to please Simmons. She's been expectin' the win. And she'd gotten it, kind of, just not in the way he knew she'd hoped. And Kibbles is gonna think we dropped out because of her. Motherfucker.

The gag order, on the other hand, sat rather well with him. He'd be happy for an excuse not to talk about the month of his life when he couldn't get it up. Hold on. Wait just a fucking second. For the second time that morning, Fitz was on top of the world.

"Agent Weaver, ma'am?"

She sat back in her chair, regarding him expectantly.

"When you say all the information pertaining to this project is now classified…"

Simmons looked over at him, eyebrows high.

"... does that include video of our data-collection tactics?" Even, let's say, video that was taken behind our back?

"Any and all data, Cadet Fitz," she said, with the pointed air of someone not accustomed to repeating themselves. "If you or anyone else is in possession of footage beyond your clearance level, I advise you, S.H.I.E.L.D. does not look kindly on potential security leaks."

"Yep, that's fine, no problem," he rushed to assure her, "I just thought, if you're interested…" Weaver folded her hands in her lap, staring him down, and he got on with it, "we might be able t' help you flush out a bad seed or two."

-o-

"It would have been us, if we'd been allowed to compete. It should have been us." It was the third time in as many minutes Jemma'd been grousing, going through a printout of the top five project abstracts and systematically breaking down everything that could be wrong with them.

"Just look at this nonsense - the headache machine? How can you possibly control the circumstances? Even if the undercover agents inject themselves with the dampening serum, I hardly think it'll be a subtle move when the entire room breaks out in migraines. Honestly…" she scoffed, looking highly discomfited.

Fitz tried to soothe her without being too obvious, nudging her gently with his elbow as they wandered about the auditorium. "Of course it's not as good as what we had, but Jemma…" If they couldn't win, it would probably help her to see the good in the other inventions. "It's got some applications. With a small enough range, it could work on a specific person. Or, if they used it to avoid sex, like the Limpst-" ah yes, secrecy, quite right, "- er, I mean, like ours, in a bedroom, or away from people, it'd be fine. Probably a little more reliable, actua- hey!"

Jemma apparently didn't like to be told there was anything better than the Limpstick, because the next thing he knew, the folded-up pamphlet landed on his arm with a resounding thwack. "We're not meant to be talking about that!" she cautioned shrilly under her breath.

"Well all right, then, y' barmy hellcat. No need to draw blood over it." He rubbed his arm, scowling. She pursed her lips and went back to the list.

"And this one?" She pointed at another short description. "Masquerading as a 'foolproof' truth serum when we all know that sodium pentothal derivatives were debunked decades ago. Ten to one, it's got a cornucopia of horrible side effects. For shame," she tutted.

"Ehhh…" Fitz debated whether or not to argue with her. He'd heard they were doing some impressive things with truth serums over at Stark Labs; it was possible that someone here at Sci-Tech had gotten hold of the same idea. Before he had a chance to waffle too much, though, she continued with her fretful ramble. Just as well. He didn't want to upset her any more right now.

"Oh, look at this one, Fitz, a hangover cure." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Who designed this tosh, Jonesy?"

"Okay, it's not really just a-" She cut him off with a look. "But it is definitely not better than what we came up with." He threw her a grin and leaned over to whisper against the ticklish spot on her neck, "You're the smartest person here, you know that?"

"Oh?" she asked archly, smiling even as she put her whole hand in his face to push him away. "I thought I was nearly the smartest."

"You're an elephant, is what." Did she remember everything he'd ever said against her? Then he realized how his answer might have sounded. "Oh, God, not because- I mean, your body is- you look-"

Flustered or not, he couldn't help but thank his stars when she started laughing. "I know what you meant." She stepped into his side and took his hand. "Daft man," she giggled, face pinking up the way it did sometimes when he stared too long.

A caustic, chilly voice burgled away their bubble of happiness. "Well, well, well. I thought I smelled something rotten."

"Your soul?" Jemma shot back, and he patted her hand in what he hoped was a calming way.

Kibbles sauntered up to them, an insufferable sneer on her face. "Heard you two dropped out of the competition."

Simmons' nails dug into his palm, her breathing furiously stuttered beside him, so he jumped in with a quick, "Yep, that's us! Just terrible. Namby-pamby quitters, you know how we are." He chuckled awkwardly.

Kibbles narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but snorted. "You got my camera, SpongeBob?"

"Absolutely. Right here in m' pocket." Fitz kept his movements supercilious as he quickly extracted the spy-cam from his jacket and put it into her hand. "Good as new. Now, you'll hold up your end of the bargain? No spreadin' my… well, legs… all over the school?"

"Long as you don't piss me off, Dick Van Winkle. Now scram!"

Fitz kept both his hands tightly around Simmons' as he led her away to a quiet corner of the auditorium. He could feel her body quivering with barely restrained ire, but thankfully she waited until they were out of earshot of the other students before hissing,

"Damnit, Fitz! I just want to have my revenge already." Her beautiful hazel eyes turned to him, glimmering with angry tears. "Is that so wrong?"

Conscious of the setting, Fitz stopped himself from bringing her in close, settling for stroking slow patterns onto her sleeve in a bid to relax her nerves. "Shhh, Jem, it's okay. Everything'll work itself out."

Just then they heard a telltale throat-clearing on the microphone. The entire room switched gears, zeroing in on the makeshift stage. Agent Weaver stood, lovely as ever, and faced the assembled scientists. "It gives me great pleasure to welcome you all this afternoon…"

Fitz risked putting his arm around Simmons as they listened to Weaver outline the finalists once again. The crowd erupted, students clapping eagerly as the brains behind each of the top prototypes was finally revealed.

"And for the Headache Grenade, Doctor Kimberly Lopez," Weaver continued smoothly, her voice carrying over the applause.

The fuck? He felt Simmons twitch angrily at his side, heard her teeth grind. Kibbles had made finalist? She's like a turd that won't flush, that one.

"Next, for the Bezoar, Doctor Wendell Yasuda." Agent Weaver smiled broadly at the young man straightening his tie by the stairs. "And now, I'm delighted to announce the winner." The room quieted, every contender pinned to a clothesline as they waited to know if they would be taking the easy money train to Director Fury's secret headquarters. "For his multipurpose antidote, which will be instrumental in allowing field agents to avoid and correct drug impairments in the field, the winner of the Sci-Tech challenge is… Doctor Yasuda!"

Across the room, Fitz saw Kibbles' eyes screech open in disbelief. "This is bullshit!" she cried out, kicking a backpack someone had left on the floor and storming out. Or rather, she tried to storm out, yanking furiously at the door handle and lobbing a few choice profanities when it wouldn't open on the third try. Behind her in the auditorium, the finalist who'd developed the truth serum - Blackstone, Fitz thought his name was - called tentatively out, "You have to push it?" With a raptor hiss back in his direction, Kibbles finally succeeded in shoving her way out of the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the aftermath.

Agent Weaver glared down at the open door for about ten seconds, a volcano gone icy cold, before someone rushed to close it. She turned back to the crowd, urging Yasuda to come up and shake her hand, and Fitz faced Simmons with a wry grimace. "Feel better?" He knew it must be satisfying on some level to see Kibbles lose, but… Poor Wendell. The whole spectacle had left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Yes… and no." Simmons echoed his thoughts. She exhaled, a prolonged breath that he guessed was intended to rid her of vindictive thoughts.

"We could still prank her, if y' like," he offered. Simmons knew where her locker was, Fitz knew a guy who kept everyone's combination, and they could probably procure a hundred pounds of dog food pretty quickly if they needed to. "Just say the word and it's done."

"You're sweet." Simmons bit her lip, pondering, then sighed. "But I think we'd better not."

Look at her little face, taking the high road. Gosh, Simmons was the best. He took her hand, speaking softly enough that only she could hear. "I know you feel bad we had t' drop out of the competition, but- it's not like we lost. We proved what we can do. We're on Hill's radar. And more importantly-"

"The Limpstick is going to get made. We did that." She smiled back at him, setting his mind afloat like rose petals in bathwater, and brushed an imaginary piece of dust off his collar. "And you know, if you want to cheer me up…" She smoothed down his tie, and as he was perfectly aware that his tie was smooth already, the gesture made his stomach clench eagerly. "I do have a couple of ideas."

-o-

The moonlight dappled through the trees onto a small hill outside the Engineering labs. Leaned against the harsh brick corner, lulled by the sound of the huge industrial generator humming at her side, a woman waited. The hand stuffed into her hoodie pocket played idly with whatever was inside, the other swiped at the dull glow of an app game on her phone, and a set of enormous headphones rested on her ears. Her eyes darted up, registering the man picking his way over the uneven ground, running steady hands along the darkened wall. With a glower, she pushed her headphones back and let them fall onto her neck.

"You're late."

"Hey, Kibz," he called out softly. "I had to-"

"Don't call me that." Her eyes were ice picks, stabbing at his face before driving impatiently to the CD case in his hand. "That my hard copy?"

"Yeah. It's all there, just like you asked. Backed up and encrypted."

"So you're not completely useless. Good." She reached into her pocket and all but tossed the spy-cam into his hand, barking out a biting laugh when he fumbled and dropped it. "You should make that shit more durable. Now get outta my sight."

"Not so fast, Cadet."

Both students looked up at the rapidly approaching voice. Agent Weaver strode up confidently, flanked by two Ops specialists, as another appeared around the corner and a fourth stepped out from behind the nearby generator.

"Lopez, James." Weaver nodded mercilessly at the pair. "You have something that belongs to S.H.I.E.L.D.. Please come with me."

-o-

"You know, at some point," Jemma stretched out against his side, breathing hard and tracing the line of his collarbone once she'd brought the sheets up to cover them again, "we are going to have to talk about that pesky anti-fraternization clause."

"Oh, now you want t' talk? I see how it is." Hmmph. Thinks she can just tell me what to do with my mouth at all times of the day and night.

"Fitz…" she scolded, swatting at his chest and not fooling anyone. "I'm being serious."

"You're being seriously distracting," he mumbled against her shoulder.

She laughed and wriggled away. "And you're stalling." Jemma propped herself up on her elbow, looking down fondly. "I know those protocols don't apply to us at the moment, but once we graduate…"

"Yeah, okay." He sighed and tipped his head back onto the pillow, briefly closing his eyes. "It's just - I'm not worried about that, not really. They make exceptions, right?" He cupped her cheek, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. "We work so well together, only a right stupid bunch of bastards would split us up." He picked up her hand, dropping a light kiss to her knuckles. "All we have to do is prove our brains haven't turned to mush when it comes to the work, and as far as I'm concerned, S.H.I.E.L.D. can fuck right off about our private lives."

"Well, there are definitely unofficial exceptions." Simmons curled her hand around the side of his head, scratching softly through the curls. "Did you hear about Jessica Drew and Clint Barton?"

Please. Who hadn't Barton slept with? It was clear to Fitz that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't care who was involved with whom, when it suited them to turn a blind eye.

Jemma continued, "Although, well, they're not scientists, so it isn't as though they spend every minute in a lab together, but-"

"But that doesn't mean anything - the Curies discovered all those new elements, constantly in each other's company, and look how that worked out!"

She scrunched her nose, amused. "Leopold Fitz. Are you promising me a Nobel prize?"

His throat was honey-thick, gazing into her star-chart eyes, and he whispered, "If that's what you want? I'll promise you two."

Sap. He should probably be more reserved with his affection, but if this was what it felt like to be putty in her hands, he'd gladly change his name to Gumby.

Her answering smile was small but doting, warm enough to melt putty, or sand, or steel, even as she rolled her eyes. "So cocky." She bent her head, breath hitching as her eyes flitted down to his lips. The fingers in his hair tugged him forward, and Fitz went willingly, his arm circling her waist and drawing her close. Jemma stuck to him like a leaf in the rain, and despite the head-rushing newness of her body and her bed, the feeling of her was so familiar, so full of late nights and deep talks and personal bests, that when she kissed him his mind floated merrily away, a paper boat in a backyard creek.

When he came back to himself, she'd snuggled in, laying her ear against his heartbeat. "I don't want to end up like the Curies, though: Pierre dead before his time in a tragic accident, Marie struck down with leukemia. I'm far too attached to you for that."

He chuckled and trailed his hand down the silk of her ribs, loving the way it made her shiver. "Your pillow talk needs work."

She lifted her head to stick her tongue out at him, and the reminder that her tongue existed, and that it was one of his favorite things in this earthly plane, was too tempting to ignore. He nudged her onto her back and kissed her, sweet and slow and strong, before making his way down the column of her throat, leaving small pinks marks in his wake. "The good news is," he kissed the spot just under her breasts, "we don't need to be the Curies. In fact," he reached her belly button and rested his chin there, staring up the line of her body to find her watching him in giddy anticipation, "all we need to be is-"

"- Fitzsimmons," Jemma finished for him, at the same time that he promised,

"- together."

THE END

Author's Note

The truth serum they're developing at Stark Labs is a reference to my story What Must Surely Be a Dream.

Jemma's knowledge of truth serums, and the mention of Marie and Pierre Curie, are inspired by Copenhagen by badscienceshenanigans, whose help was invaluable during this whole fic.

Kibz and James are references to my Secret Valentine.

The Bezoar is a Harry Potter reference (Yasuda's invention is a sort of catchall antidote - negates the effects of alcohol and most drugs).

Blackstone is named after Harry Dresden of the Dresden Files by Jim Butcher.

Jessica Drew is Marvel's Spider-Woman and has been spotted in the comics dating Hawkeye (Clint Barton). I am not a big comic book reader, you all have my beta Amanda to thank for that fun tidbit. And for putting up with me through this whole process. She is honestly the best.