Chapter 8: The Incomparable Jemma

It was an hour after lunch that Palamas rang Grant on the intercom.

"Jemma Coulson." was all she said, and it was followed by a low hum as she buzzed Jemma into his office.

She entered a moment later and the first thought that came to his mind was "resplendent". It was a rather silly word to use in everyday applications, a relic leftover from his SAT prep courses decades prior, and he wasn't totally sure that he was using it right… but still. That's the word he thought of when she walked in, looking lovely and warm and (dare he say) Parisian in her tan jacket and vibrant red lipstick.

He stared for far too long, but she didn't notice. She was busy taking in his office, turning a full circle to see it all.

"Wow. It's… big." Not lovely, not resplendent, nothing close to words that he'd been thinking, but he wasn't much surprised. His office was large, and less built for beauty than for its purpose. He hadn't changed a thing about the decorations since he took the office over from his late father, and the last time a decorator had stepped foot in the office had been the early nineties. So what decor there was, was dated and borderline gaudy. It wasn't to his tastes, but he couldn't find the will to care enough to change it. And… he liked having his father's office. It made him feel close to the old man, somehow. Regardless, any compliments to the effect of it being beautiful would have been exaggerated, and he couldn't fault Jemma's commitment to honesty by not calling it what it wasn't.

"It's where I do that real work in the real world." he said and offered to take her jacket. As he hung it on the coat tree beside his office door, she spoke.

"I didn't mean to offend you." She sounded a little sheepish.

"Don't worry. I'm a hard man to offend." he answered as he turned around and motioned to his desk. She took a seat across from him and slid the thumb drive over to him once he was seated behind his computer.

The pictures loaded quickly, but he needed only to flip through two to realize they were not of the cottage. Rather, the pictures were of what he guessed was Paris, but he didn't let her know immediately. He couldn't help but to click through a couple, just to marvel.

"That's quite the view of the house." he said when he came upon the image of a cathedral. "I know photographers have tricks that can make things look bigger, but you've truly outdone yourself."

Jemma rounded his desk to get a better look, then laughed when she realized her error. "How silly of me. I must have mixed up the drives." She rifled through her bag and a minute later withdrew a second, identical thumb drive. Replacing the drive required her to lean into his space. Grant would have offered to take it from her, but he enjoyed her being so close. With so little distance between them, her hand resting on the back of his chair, her body cheated towards him as she reached to switch the drives, he could just make out the scent of her perfume. The whole thing felt rather… he was hesitant to call it "intimate".

At last, she got the correct pictures onscreen and put the other thumb drive away. He noticed she didn't retreat back to her seat, but stayed beside him as he clicked through the set.

"Is it to your liking?" she asked.

He nodded. "You'v done a wonderful job. The cottage looks amazing."

"Well, that had very little to do with me."

"You should give yourself more credit." Grant turned slightly to look over at her. "What do I owe you for the pictures?"

She waved a hand and shook her head, as if the thought of receiving compensation for her work was ridiculous.

"What? You don't think I'm good for it?" He was teasing her now.

She gave him a slight smile. "You're making fun."

"It's my turn." He pushed his hair away from the desk, turning the seat around to face her fully, and folded his hands in front of him, his two forefingers forming a point that he rested against his lips as he faked deep thought. "Are you by any chance interested in stocks?"

"Stocks? For photographs?"

"You're right. That's ridiculous. Bonds, then?" She laughed. He was beginning to love the sound of her laugh. "Theatre tickets?" This was his genuine offer.

"Theatre tickets?" Jemma was still smiling, under the illusion that, like his previous suggestions, this was a joke.

"Theatre tickets." Grant repeated. "I have two tickets for 'Hamilton' tonight. Trying to take your advice about the good life, 'knowing when to quit', and all that. Thought you might like to join me." When she didn't immediately answer, he added, "Maybe it's a bad idea."

"No." she was quick to say. "No, it's a wonderful idea. And…" she paused, and he could see she was weighing consequences in her mind, but soon she smiled again and said, "I'd love to."

ooooooooooooooooo

At Grant's suggestion, Jemma spent the rest of the afternoon in the city. In his office, in fact. She had glanced down at her clothes and felt they were too casual to wear to the theatre, especially since Grant wore a suit, but he insisted she shouldn't change a thing.

"You're perfect," he'd said, and that was that.

So she passed the remaining hours of his work day by perusing the large book shelf on the wall opposite the window. Jemma wasn't sure what sort of literature she expected Grant to keep, but she was surprised that the shelves were stocked less with business manuals, and more with novels.

"You have quite the collection." she said to him, running her hand over familiar green and gold binding. She recognized the volume from Phil's own collection at home.

"Yes, you have your uncle to thank for that." he replied, though his gaze remained steady on his computer screen.

"Oh?"

"Anytime he suggests a book, I buy it." He smirked, meeting her eyes at last. "He makes a lot of suggestions."

"I can see that." She withdrew one from the shelf herself. "I never took you for a reader."

"I'm not. I'd like to be, though. One day."

She sighed. Grant and his "one days". She didn't want to press the issue again, though, so she only held the book up and said, "Mind if I-"

He shook his head before she finished asking. "Help yourself."

She took the book, a compilation of Tolstoy stories, to the sofa just a few feet away from his desk.

No sooner had Jemma sat down than the phone in her pocket buzzed. She had received a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown: So? What's the status?

Unknown: Lol. Status. Get it? Like, dating status?

Jemma gave herself one guess as to who the stranger might be.

Jemma: Skye?

Skye: Yep!

Jemma: I guess I shouldn't ask how you got my number. You probably used your computer voodoo, right?

Skye: Please! I asked Melinda, who asked Phil… but I like that you think I have the skills to do something like that!

Skye: Because I do. I just don't have time for the legal repercussions… ANYWAY, what's the deal?

Jemma: I don't know if there is "a deal". He asked me to go with him to the theater tonight.

Skye: He ASKED you OUT?!

Jemma: Not exactly… he sort of called it payment for the pictures I took.

Skye: The pictures you took for the cottage he isn't actually selling?

Jemma: …

Jemma: Those are the ones.

Skye: I WAS RIGHT

Jemma: I wouldn't say that!

Skye: I. WAS. RIGHT.

Skye: So I guess the only thing left to ask is would you rather wear the juniper or the marigold dress for my wedding.

Jemma: You weren't actually serious!

Skye: OH MY GOSH what if we end up sisters-in-law?! Can you IMAGINE how much fun that would be?

Jemma laughed out loud at that. She was fairly certain Skye was teasing, but the idea of her and Grant… it was laughable. Wasn't it?

"What's so funny?" Grant asked.

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Nothing. Skye is just… a lot."

"Skye? Fitz's Skye?" He sounded surprised. "I didn't realize you were friends."

"We weren't until today." She put her phone aside. Skye was still going on about the (absolutely ludicrous) possibility of them ending up family, but Jemma decided to ignore the texts for now. "She doesn't seem to be giving me much choice in the matter of us being friends, but I don't think I mind. She's very nice."

"That she is."

"Do you think… she and Fitz are good for each other?" It was an awkward question to pose, but she needed to know. Not because of any feelings she harbored for him, but because… he was Fitz. Regardless of what love she did or did not hold for him, she would likely always be concerned about his well-being and happiness.

The question hung unanswered in the air for a long moment. During that time, Grant walked away from his desk and took a seat on the couch beside her. She watched wordlessly as he untied his bow tie, leaving it undone around his neck, and unbuttoned several buttons on his dress shirt. She wasn't sure why he did so. Getting more comfortable, perhaps? Did he mean to disarm her? To charm her? He looked quite handsome, even when disheveled. Closer up, she detected the slightest bit of scruff on his usually clean-shaven face.

"Fitz and Skye are great together," he said, confirming what she already knew. She was not expecting him to add, "But she'll never be you, Jemma."

She grimaced. "That's not why I was asking."

"I know, but I'm saying it anyway. Skye is great," he paused, letting that truth resonate for a few seconds before finishing with, "but you're incomparable."

ooooooooooooooooo

Jemma soon learned that Grant undoing his tie and top buttons was a tell of sorts, a signal to himself and the world that he was finished with work for the day. Palamas, when she came to bring them both coffee around four o'clock, seemed surprised at his state.

"Will you be taking off early, sir?" she wondered as she placed the lattes on the coffee table. He and Jemma were still seated on the sofa. If Kara thought anything unseemly had occurred (Jemma wondered if she would, given his appearance), her face did not betray her.

"Thinking I may," he said, then looked at Jemma. "We could catch a quick dinner before the show, if you'd like."

"That sounds lovely." Jemma replied.

"Should I retrieve fresh clothes for you, sir?"

"No, that's okay. I have a spare set in the bathroom." He nodded toward the restroom in the corner of his office. "Thanks, Palamas."

She excused herself and left the couple by themselves. Grant downed his coffee quickly, then stood and withdrew to change.

Finally alone, Jemma took the opportunity to check her phone. She had no fewer than ten unread messages from Skye.

Skye: Seriously though. Juniper or marigold.

Skye: If you don't choose, I'm choosing for you.

Skye: Fine. I'm choosing.

Skye: Are you there?

Skye: Hellooooooooo

Skye: Fitz's butt is getting better. In case you wanted to know. About his butt.

Skye: Butt has got to be, like, one of the funniest words ever. Top ten definitely. It's the 9th funniest word in the English language.

Skye: You're so quiet! Are you and Grant… oh my God. Oh my GOD.

Skye: I don't know if I want you to say yes or no to this question. I regret it. Pretend I said nothing.

Skye: You're wearing the juniper dress. And do you know why? Because Grant's favorite color is blue. And yeah, juniper isn't exactly blue, but it's not NOT blue. So. You're welcome. You're both welcome.

Jemma read through the messages, smiled, but didn't reply. She figured there'd be plenty of time for that later. Tonight. After she went to a play with Grant.

Thinking the words in succession like that set her made her heart race; it was not an uncomfortable feeling, but an exciting one.

Grant walked out of the bathroom not long after, having changed from his suit into jeans, a black henley shirt, and a leather jacket. She'd never seen him look so casual. It was refreshing.

"May I touch up my makeup?" she asked.

He motioned toward the bathroom. "Be my guest.

She didn't shut the door behind her as she walked toward the mirror above the sink. Surprisingly, he stayed close. She caught his reflection beside hers as she touched up her lipstick and made sure her hair was cooperating. He was watching her intently, the smallest of smiles on his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing. You just… you look really nice."

She turned away from the mirror, but didn't have to see her reflection to know her cheeks were going pink from his compliment. "It's the lipstick." she said.

"It's not just the lipstick." he replied as he grabbed her jacket and held it ready for her. She didn't need his help, but she recognized the gesture as gentlemanly and had no intention to decline. Then, he offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"Okay." she said, and rather than take his arm, she took his hand.

ooooooooooooooooo

"She won't answer my texts!" Skye complained as she flopped down on the bed. The movement jostled Fitz, who winced and cried out. "Sorry," she said quickly, rubbing his lower back.

"It's okay." he bit out. It wasn't quite okay, but he knew she hadn't meant to do it. "Who's not answering your texts?"

"Jemma. She's going to be one of my bridesmaids, you know."

Fitz shot straight up; or rather, as "up" as his condition could allow. "Are you sure that's a good idea? You've just met."

Skye shrugged. "You and Grant have known her practically forever, Melinda and Phil are constantly giving off the weirdest vibes… it just seems like your families are pretty entwined. I could either be repulsed by it, or run with it." She glanced down at her phone again. Still nothing. "I'm choosing to run with it."

"Nice to know you're choosing to not be repulsed by my family." Fitz noted sarcastically. "Truly the height of romance."

"Oh come on. You know what I mean. You guys have some serious enmeshment. My therapist would go crazy over your families"

"Ooo, and that sentence managed to be a pun and offensive all at once."

"What can I say? It's a gift." When Fitz snorted in response, Skye grew serious. "If it really bothers you, I won't put her in the wedding. I just figured… she was always kind of around, right? Her and Phil?"

He pictured Jemma hiding out in that tree during their family parties. "You could say that." Then, he hurried to add, "It would fly in the face of what the north shore 'old money' will expect, which strangely increases the appeal."

"Right?"

"Society pages around the country will have a conniption."

Skye laughed. "This just gets better and better."

Fitz agreed. "You know what would really cause a frenzy?" He rolled onto his side gently, resting his head on his left hand and taking one of hers with his right. "Let's elope."

Another laugh from Skye, but when he didn't join her, it faded quickly. "You're serious?"

"Why not? Nothing about dating or engagement has been typical for us. Why should our wedding be?"

Skye stammered out a few weak, half-formed excuses. "But the caterer… the flowers… juniper! I told Jemma she was wearing a juniper dress!"

"She can wear a juniper dress just as easily at a courthouse, as one of our witnesses." Fitz reasoned.

She groaned a little, but Fitz could tell by the way her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed that she was genuinely considering it. "My father would burst a blood vessel over all the lost deposits." A smirk ghosted over her mouth. "Almost makes the trouble worthwhile."

"Is that a yes, then?"

She leaned over to him and pressed a kiss against his waiting lips. "It's certainly not a no."

ooooooooooooooooo

"Have any place in mind?" Grant asked as they exited the office building.

Jemma shook her head. "Would you mind if we walked for a while? It's been so long since I've just wandered around the city."

"That sounds nice." Still holding her hand, Grant led the way. He was quite a bit taller than her, his strides long, and the pace he set was soon too much for her to keep up with.

"Whoa, Grant!" she exclaimed with a laugh, putting her free hand onto the arm that held onto her palm and patting lightly. "Why rush? Let's just enjoy it."

"New York natives will literally kill us if we walk slowly," he offered as a reason, but nonetheless cut his pace by half. They easily fell into sync then. She didn't feel rushed, but he didn't feel held back. It was a happy medium.

"Do you ever get recognized when you go out?" Jemma wondered.

"Not usually." was Grant's reply. "And definitely not when I'm dressed like this."

"Definitely not." she agreed, her voice playful. "And definitely not when you're sporting a beard, I imagine."

He lifted one hand to scrub self-consciously at his stubble. "I didn't have the chance to shave this morning. I… overslept." He admitted it softly, like a caught schoolboy giving an excuse for tardiness to a disapproving teacher.

Of course, Jemma didn't disapprove. She even laughed. "For what it's worth, scruff is nice. Most women these days like a little scruff on men." She weighed whether to add on to that at all, then decided what the hell and threw all caution to the wind. "It's actually very handsome."

He wasn't blind to the fact that she stopped just shy of calling him handsome, but it was close enough to qualify as a compliment. Compliment-adjacent, if you will, which he did. "Well, I'll keep it then."

"Do what you like," she answered a little too quickly before finishing in a low, conspiratorial voice, "but I rather like scruff, too."

There was no way she meant it suggestively, Grant knew. Absolutely know way she intended to let her accented voice growl over the syllables, taking the meaning from innocent to nearly an entendre. But, once the seed was planted in his mind, he couldn't shake it. He wouldn't fool himself into thinking she wasn't attracted to him, and he to her. He'd seen her smile, seen how she'd dressed for their meeting today, and how she'd taken his hand when his arm was offered. What he hadn't expected was the thrill of each of those moments. Seeing her walk in with vibrant red lips, feeling her tuck her small hand into his… things had happened so quickly, at such a breakneck speed, he very nearly forgot there was a purpose to him pretending to court Jemma.

Because of course he was meant to pretend; never mind that, with every passing moment, it was hard to distinguish between what was real and what wasn't where the two of them were concerned.

He'd worry about that later, he decided. After the show, or even tomorrow. This here? Her hand in his, their fingers interlaced? At least for now, that was real.

A/N: I'm thinking there are two, maybe three chapters left in this story. We are almost there! Once again, formatting on ff dot net can be a nightmare, so I had to improvise. Please review!