"JEMMA!"
She'd been hurt today. They'd been on a mission, and the man they were tracking had suddenly burst through the doors of an old barn, splinters of wood flying everywhere as the car he was in shot through it, and Jemma had been standing in its path, although luckily not directly enough that she'd been hit her full-force. Instead, it had clipped the top of her leg, just on her hip, knocking her off her feet and sending her into a tailspin as she fell, and Fitz had yelled her name as she'd hit the ground hard, running over and landing beside her, his eyes searching hers, wide and panicked.
"I'm all right, he just caught my leg. Help me up?"
Fitz had seemingly not heard her, and he'd taken her face in his hands, his eyes all over her. "Are you sure? Don't move..."
"Fitz, I'm fine, I promise..."
Then he'd pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. "Jesus, I thought... God, Jemma..."
She'd wrapped hers around him in return, an overwhelming urge to soothe him overtaking her, even though she'd been the one hurt. "Fitz-"
"-No," he'd replied, obviously thinking she was about to persuade him to haul her up, "you should stay where you are until you've been checked over." Then he'd shouted for Trip, even though neither of them knew exactly where he was. "Did you hit your head?"
"No, no, I'm okay, honestly."
Despite his insistence that she stay put, she'd finally managed to get him to help her to her feet.
"See?" Jemma reassured, as she'd stood straight. "All fine. Just a bit bruised, probably."
He'd let to of her warily, and once he had, he'd flexed his fingers, as if he'd been itching to touch her again but couldn't now that he knew she was out of danger.
Well, until she'd tried to walk, anyway,and then she'd cried out in pain and stumbled forward, and he'd had to catch her. That had been a little awkward, but he hadn't let it get in the way of doing everything he could for her.
They're back at the base, now. She hasn't broken anything, thankfully, but she's badly bruised, and now she's limping about, ignoring instructions to sit down and rest.
"What are you doing? You know better than that," Fitz admonishes. "Sit down, take your painkillers, and rest. That's an order," he adds, and the commanding tone of his voice makes her feel all wibbly, so she does as she's told. "Tea?"
Oh, it's been so long since he's made her tea. She smiles brightly. "Yes, please."
He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking as out-of-sorts as he had when he'd stepped back and let Trip take over her care, and leaves the common room with a small smile and a nod.
God, she's bored. She wants to sneak off to the lab and work on their findings, but Coulson has taken her off duty, not just for the rest of the day, but for the next few, at least. It's ridiculous, really - she's perfectly capable of sitting and working, for goodness sake. She shifts uncomfortably. Okay, so maybe she couldn't stay in one position for long, but still - she could do something.
When Fitz returns, he's only holding one mug. "Where's yours?" She asks, as he hands it to her.
His face is an apology. "I have to get back to work."
"Oh." Of course he does, there are still things that need to be done after today, and he can manage the bulk of it on his own.
She watches him leave, her face forlorn, then leans back into the sofa cushions with a wince. She knows she shouldn't complain too much - for a while, Fitz hadn't been able to do anything at all, and even though she'd understood his frustrations, now she's having just a little taste of what it actually feels like, and it really hits home just what it was like for him.
Jemma picks up the remote and switches the TV on, surfing though the channels, looking for something to catch her eye. They light up when she lands on a series she hasn't had the chance to watch in ages. "Aww, Bang Goes the Theory!"
xxxx
Several days later, Jemma's studying herself in the mirror, pulling a face at the huge purple and black bruise that's wrapped around her left hip and the top of her thigh. The one on her arm hadn't been much better. She pokes at it gingerly, even though she knows better, and hisses as pain shoots through her hipbone - well, what did she expect? While she's not a medical doctor per se, it's true what they say - doctors really do make the worst patients.
Jemma picks up a tube of cream and squeezes some out into her hand, rubbing it gently into her skin. "Ow, ow, ow..."
"Jemma?"
Her eyes swoop over to the door. "Just a minute!" Fitz has insisted on walking her to the lab every morning, and even though she'd outwardly grumbled about it, she was secretly pleased and appreciative of the support his arm offered as she hobbled along.
She finishes up her task and wipes off her hands before carefully pulling on a loose pair of jogging bottoms. She feels sloppy going to work dressed like this, but everything else presses painfully against her injury, so she has no choice. She laces up her Converse, then makes her way over to the door.
"Morning," she smiles, as she pulls it open. Fitz is standing there with bright eyes and an extended arm.
"Shall we?"
Jemma rolls her eyes playfully at him, but grabs hold and moves down the hall with him slowly.
"How's it feeling today?"
"The same. I feel like a little old woman."
Fitz bites his lip in thought, and she really wishes he wouldn't, not while she's like this and can't do a damn thing about it, not even if she worked up the courage to do so.
"Well, you've got two out of three."
Jemma stares at him, scandalised. "Ooh, you're rotten!" she huffs, and whacks his bicep. Fitz laughs, his body shaking not unpleasantly against hers.
"You know I'm only teasing, you daft mare."
Of course she does, and she welcomes it, because it means they're slipping back into their old ways again, and it's comforting, like hot chocolate on a chilly day.
Sadly, it doesn't last long, because they're called to a briefing not long after getting to the lab, and once they're on the Bus and in the air, there's too much planning and research to do, and then she's left behind when they disappear onto the streets of Seattle, waiting for Fitz to call through with something for her to do, but he doesn't, so she's left worrying about every little thing that could go wrong while she waits and potters about.
When her phone rings, it's only her limited movement that stops her from lunging for it.
"Fitz?!"
"Hey... What's wrong? Why do you sound panicked?"
Jemma takes a deep breath and evens out her voice. "I'm not, I was just... So, how's it going? Got anything exciting for me to do?"
"'Fraid not. I was just checking in. Wanted to make sure you hadn't toppled over and got stuck on your back, you know, like a bug."
She doesn't need to see him to know that he's grinning. "You're a sod."
Fitz chuckles. "You wouldn't have me any other way..."
And just like that, they're stuck in another awkward pause.
God, she would.
Jemma a slaps a hand over her mouth even though she didn't say anything out loud. What is wrong with her? She's a nice girl, a good girl, and good girls don't...
Except, they do.
Ever since her awakening with Fitz, she hasn't been able to stop herself. She's never had feelings this strong before, for anyone, and now she finds that she's undressing him with her eyes at the most inappropriate times, and she's sure he's been doing the same to her - she's caught him staring more than once, with something primal in his gaze that she's never witnessed in him before, a hunger that shoots white heat through her, and then when he notices she's staring back, he looks away with a blush and she has to settle herself down.
Honestly, this is all Fitz's fault. Leopold Fitz, with his face and his hands and his voice and his enormous brain. Really, how dare he?
The one thing she can pride herself on, though, is that it hasn't affected her dedication to science. Some people might find themselves too lovelorn to get their job done. Most people, she bets. But her work is still top notch. Because she's a genius.
"... So, we're nearly done, here. Turns out it was a bit of a dead end. Coulson's not happy."
Jemma clears her throat, refocusing her attention on him. "I suspect not."
"No. Well, I, er, I'd better go. I'll see you later."
"Yes, later. Bye, Fitz."
Dead air indicates that he's hung up, and Jemma sighs and slips her phone into her pocket. She stares around the empty lab, fingers drumming against her lips. Her current project is back at the base. What to do... Her eyes land on the ICER that's sitting on Fitz's desk, waiting to be serviced, after a quick test before the mission failed to deploy the bullets. Well, you can never have too much dendrotoxin.
xxxx
Fitz yawns as they make their way from the hangar back into the base, and Jemma leans against him a little as he helps her limp along. It's been a long day of let downs and running in circles, and the team are weary and fed up. They spread out once inside - Coulson goes to his office, May and Triplett slip off to the gym, Skye, Jemma and Fitz head to the kitchen, and once Skye has grabbed a snack, she disappears off to her room, leaving the two scientists alone.
Fitz attempts to make something to eat, but Jemma shoos him away with flapping hands. He starts to argue that she should be sitting down, she argues back that he's been on his feet running around all day, and of course, she wins (not without a bit of trademark grumbling from Fitz), and she sets about preparing them a small meal.
"... So I told him that it's really just a matter of..." Jemma tapers off, mid-sentence, picking up on a sudden atmospheric change, as if a switch has just been flicked, the air suddenly palpable. She lets go of the saucepan of pasta she had been about to drain, and places her hands down on the edge of the counter.
Her heart thuds a heavy beat in her chest. He's right behind her, so close that she can feel the heat pulsing off of him in waves. He steps forward just a fraction, until she can feel his breath skim her ear, feel the weight of him, even though he's not touching her. She swallows, the air becoming even heavier with tension that's both electrified and cloying, and she jumps the tiniest bit when he reaches out and runs his fingers down her arm. Her skin prickles with goosebumps, and she feels not quite all there, like she's caught in that space between dreams and reality, but it's a pleasant disorientation, one that makes her feel not only syrupy and languorous, but also hyper-sensitive. It's strange, but exceedingly delicious at the same time.
Jemma turns slowly, almost trapped between Fitz and the counter - she could slip away from him if she wanted to, slide out of the small gap between them and save her heart from a possible repeat of last time, but, just like the last time, she can't pull herself from him. And, unlike last time, his gaze on her is unwavering, boring into hers with such intensity that all the air is sucked from her lungs - his eyes are fixed, and a thrill races through her as she realises that this time, he's not going anywhere.
She darts out her tongue to moisten her lips, and there's a tiny catch of breath in his throat as he watches, mesmerised, and it makes her stomach flutter, that she's able to affect him like that.
Fitz reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers leaving a path of fire and ice against her skin as they sweep over her. He settles his hand against her cheek, his fingers buried in silky waves of cinnamon, and he leans in to press his forehead against hers.
"Jemma..."
He breathes out her name like a prayer, and it tickles her skin, makes her want to hear it again and again. She wants to feel it in her mouth, and have his lips stamp it against her throat; she wants to hear it low and strained as he comes undone. She wants it whispered in her ear and spilling shivers across her body like the violent burst of a firework.
Fitz turns his head, his nose brushing across her cheekbone, and she can hear his breath trembling as she plants her hands against his chest, solid and stable but for his racing heart. His other hand curls around her bicep, and he tilts his face to let his lips bloom against her temple, warm and sweet, and when he moves his mouth to her ear, she fists her hands into his shirt, her eyes heavy and unfocused as he whispers huskily and sends yet another pleasant shudder coursing through her.
"Jemma..." His lips trace the shell of her ear, and she almost gasps. "I lo-"
"-Hey, are you guys still..."
Jemma's eyes snap wide open. She can't believe it. Her brain starts screaming "Are you kidding me?!", and a whine of exasperation leaves her mouth before she can control it, as Skye walks in with perfect timing and then freezes when she sees the intimate position that they're in. But it's too late, Fitz has already jumped back, startled by their friend's sudden entrance. The moment's ruined. She wants to cry in frustration - they had been so close...
Skye looks suitably abashed, her hands uncharacteristically twisting together in discomfort. "Shit, I'm sorry, I... Coulson wants to see us all in his office."
Jemma can hear the regret in her voice, and she glances up at Fitz, who's staring back at her, completely crestfallen. Then he turns away, and she follows him out, disappointment radiating from her and her eyes unable to meet Skye's as she passes her. She vaguely wonders how long everyone has been waiting - the comms system in the kitchen needs repairing, something Fitz had been about to do that morning before they were called away - but she can't bring herself to care. She stares at the back of Fitz's head as they walk up the corridor, and, as if he can feel her the way she'd felt him, earlier, he pauses and sticks his elbow out so she can clutch onto it. She does so, but now she wants to cry even more. They haven't long returned from Seattle, and they were debriefed on the Bus - she wonders what Coulson could have found in the hour or so since they've been back, unless he wants to see them for another reason entirely.
When they enter the office, May stands aside to let Jemma sit, and she smiles gratefully at the older agent as she carefully lowers herself down into one of the leather desk chairs.
Coulson frowns at her. "Simmons, you don't look too good - have you been taking your pills?" He sounds concerned, and she's not about to share with the team the fact that she's sexually frustrated and wants to scream at him for having Skye interrupt her almost-kiss with Fitz, so she nods.
"Yes." It's not quite a lie, which is probably why she doesn't find it too hard to get her mouth around the word without looking like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She has been taking them, just not as often as she should - they're strong painkillers and they space her out, so she's mostly been using them to help dull the pain at night so she can sleep. She can't focus on her work if she's unbalanced by drugs.
Trip snorts a laugh. "Fitz looks the same - you didn't let him cook, did you, Simmons?"
Both Jemma and Fitz force a chuckle at the same time.
"I'll have you know that I'm a great cook," Fitz shoots back.
May smirks. "Sticking a bag of popping corn in the microwave does not count as cooking."
Whilst poor Fitz tries to defend himself against something that never even happened, Jemma catches the apology in Skye's eyes and offers her a small, reassuring smile. It wasn't her fault - the kitchen is a public area, after all, and it really wasn't the best place to fall into the arms of another. Still, to get so close and then have it ripped away - again - was like a smack in the face.
Coulson claps his hands together. "Guys! Can we?"
xxxx
Jemma's pacing the lab, unsure of what to do with herself, not unlike earlier on the Bus, except now it's late and she should be going to bed, but her mind is buzzing loudly with possibilities, of what might have been if she and Fitz hadn't been interrupted. She shouldn't even be moving about this much, but the adrenalin rushing about her won't allow her to keep still. Fitz went straight to the kitchen to fix the comms after the team's talk with Coulson, about coming at things from a different angle and setting up a new plan of action, and she's ended up here, strung out and... Hungry. Their ruined dinner is still on the kitchen counter, congealing.
She shakes her head and forces herself to focus. She takes out her microscope, slides, and Petri dishes, and gets on with what she'd wanted to spend the day doing in the first place.
"Ah, there you are..." she's soon muttering to herself, with a satisfied smile. She steps back from the microscope and picks up her pad and pen to jot down a few notes. Halfway through doing so, her eyes are drawn to the doorway by a flash of movement, and when she looks up, her mouth falls open.
A/N: For those who don't know "Bang Goes the Theory" is a BBC science show, which is also playing on BBC America. It's really good, so if you catch it, give it a look.
Jogging bottoms = sweat pants.
Ack, this was another frustrating chapter, I know. But I'm not in the least bit sorry :p
To those who left reviews that I couldn't reply to due to them not being logged in, thank you! Always very much appreciated :)