Simmons patted her cheeks with the hand towel and turned off the tap. Trick question or not, she'd lost, and she was going to be the bigger person. She would not gripe at Fitz about his decisions over Thanksgiving, and she would put up with whatever humiliation he had in store. Maturity, Jemma. It's not just for cheddar cheese.

"So, Lex, whaddya think?" Simmons recognized Penelope's voice on the other side of the bathroom door.

"About the engineer? Chica, you know I like those virgin types. Somebody needs Sexy Lexie to show him a thing or two in the bedroom… boss 'im around a little..." The girls' conversation got muffled as they moved further into the hall, their giggles fading into the din of the party as Simmons stared at her reflection, dumbfounded.

A hard knot of antipathy was signing a lease in her diaphragm. Penelope'd invited them because Lexie liked virgins? Was she a cult-leader? No wonder she'd been plying Fitz with so many spirits; she'd been all over him during that game. Though, if she remembered accurately, Fitz had been a bit grabby himself. And not always in a drunken way.

Simmons' plan to march out and warn him immediately derailed itself in a sudden wave of self-doubt. What if Fitz welcomed Lexie's attention? Honestly, he wasn't a child, and if that was the sort of girl he liked, Simmons was in no position to say otherwise. Fitz could take up with anyone he wanted. Even a gross, handsy, bleached-blonde cougar. But Simmons didn't have to be happy about it.

Fitz found Simmons chewing on a lime wedge in the kitchen. "That the reason for your sour puss?" he joked, pointing to the small pile of discarded citrus peels.

She huffed. "There's nothing to eat at this bloody party that actually grew on a tree." She reached for a small bowl of maraschino cherries, popping one in her mouth rather petulantly. To Fitz's inordinate relief, she chomped it down without ceremony. If she'd tried to suck the juice out - I think I might actually need to be drunk for that.

Fitz sighed. "I know you're mad about losin', but that's no reason to take it out on the garnish." He yanked open the refrigerator and hunted around a bit. "Just give me a minute, I'll find y' somethin'."

"Fitz!" Simmons hissed, alarmed and glancing about to make sure no one else was coming. "You can't just go into someone's fridge like that!"

He shrugged. "Er… I've been drinkin' a lot tonight. I can't be blamed for my actions."

"Well, yes," she conceded, lacing her fingers together, "Alcohol consumption has been linked to increased appetite, as well as a reduced ability to recognize consequences. Oh!" That was an I'm-excited-about-science-and-let-me-tell-you 'oh', and her hands sprang apart. "Did you happen to read the study monitoring the effects of ethanol on zebrafish?"

Fitz fixed her with a flat stare. "If I say I did, are y' still gonna tell me?"

She wrinkled her nose in irritation before pressing on. "Well, they discovered that one drunk zebrafish will show off to its peers by swimming faster, and a group of them will lose the capacity to swim together in formation-" Hah. Don't get drunk, fishies, stay in schools. "-and Fitz! Isn't it thrilling that humans and fish would have the same response to anything?" Arms illustrating her enthusiasm, Simmons toppled a martini shaker off the counter.

Fitz's hand darted out and caught it mid-air, putting it back in the sink for good measure. Simmons' eyes had gone wide at his show of dexterity, a hint of disbelief skipping across the hazel fields. Uh-oh. She still thought he was drunk. Quick, say something. "So… that was some game, eh?" he chuckled, voice a bit strained.

She rolled her eyes, petulant. "I should have won, you know. The shell. Honestly."

I hope she's not put out about that all weekend. "Those questions were terrible," he agreed amiably, hoping to set her at ease.

"Didn't stop you from getting most of them right…" Simmons pressed an index finger to the side of her chin, "and you have knocked back quite a few this evening…" she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "how are you not vomiting right now?" She was wearing her Sherlock face, the one that said she wanted to check his pupil dilation.

Shite. Should he tell her what he'd been doing? Or would she be angry at him for lying? He needed a distraction. Divert her attention, turn it around on her. Not for the first time in his life, Fitz felt like the secret agent he was more or less training to be.

"Me? What about you? You've had no food all night and you've been poundin' margaritas like a public-school teacher at happy hour." Hey, wait a minute. That was a really good point. "Y' know, you were pretty sharp answerin' those questions, too, considerin' you were sooo hammered." His eyes whipped to Simmons' face and found her staring back defiantly, a flash of anger zipping over her as she processed his words.

"I suppose I'm just one of those people who can hold their liquor." Her voice was crystal. She's not off her tits one bit. Maybe she never was. The sneaky mountebank. She'd been tryin' to hustle him at trivia. I knew it. She'd been far too focused during those last few rounds.

"Well, me too," Fitz wasn't sure what was going on, but his competitive spirit had kicked in, and there was no way he was giving ground first. "Must be a Scottish thing."

They were facing off now, eyes blazing.

"Then perhaps you should have another." The fierce set of her shoulders threw down a gauntlet.

"Oh, I will." He popped open a beer and swallowed a good third of it, keeping eye contact the whole damn time. That'll show her. Giving in to the need for breath, he lowered the bottle from his lips with a confrontational smirk. "I love gettin' pissed. It's great."

She grabbed the beer from him and took a hearty swig, arching a saucy eyebrow. "Indeed. As you can see, I'm a bit squiffy even now."

That lying little… Fitz shifted forward, intent on exposing her deceit.

Fitz angled himself towards her. "So'm I. Dead blotto. Lowered inhibitions and everythin'."

It all seemed a bit surreal. Simmons was fairly sure now that this one beer they were sharing was the first actual drink of the evening for either of them. It was fitting they'd both come up with the same strategy for dealing with peer pressure, a sign of their near-psychic compatibility. She might've even been willing to admit the ruse; they could've had a good laugh over it. But then Fitz had the nerve to imply she'd been cheating at trivia. He's going to pay for that.

"Lowered inhibitions, hmm? Is that why you were ogling our hostess during the game?" He flushed a satisfying red, not bothering to deny it.

"Well, y'know. Drunk people do stupid things."

Hmm. She felt a driving need to pry, and honestly, after the way Fitz had behaved, he deserved to be far more uncomfortable. "She seemed rather interested." Let's get to the bottom of this, shall we? "You could go find her; she'd probably snog you."

Fitz gulped as the beet color reached the top of his hairline. "I'm too dizzy to go anywhere right now. Loss of coordination an' all. From the alcohol." He trained those ice blue weapons on her. "But you could find someone to snog if y' want. I mean, if you're really drunk enough to do somethin' like that."

Hello, what's this? His tone was adversarial; he was still trying to trip her up. But was he really suggesting… Oh, go on then, Jemma. If it turned awkward, they had five days to get over it before they had to be in class or in the lab together. She stepped into his personal space. "I just might do that. Any ideas for who I should kiss?" The tilt of her chin dared him to answer.

Fitz did look away then, hand going automatically to the back of his neck as he regarded his shoes. He coughed out a nervous laugh. "Whoever y' like, Simmons." He sounded disgruntled, as if he didn't appreciate being mocked.

The feather duster in her stomach fluttered, kicking up little clouds as it moved over her rib cage. She went up on tiptoe, slow as syrup, hands coming out at a snail's pace to balance herself against Fitz's chest. He inclined his head slightly, all of him stock-still, watching her from a straightjacket. She could've felt his breath on her nose, if he'd been breathing. She inched closer, lips an impulse away.

This is weird. Fitz was her friend. She wasn't even sure she was that attracted to him. And at this close proximity, overwhelming her field of vision, his face looked huge. Really, comically wide - and he seemed to have only one eye, which was staring at her Cyclops-style. Her concentration broken, a voiceless chuckle eagled out of her throat as she backed away microscopically.

"What? What's so funny?" He sounded defensive, a voice so normal it nearly pulverized her.

"You," she teased, desperate to soften the unbearable press of rock in the landslide of this moment. "Close your eyes, you plonker."

"Wha- you close your eyes! Y' wouldn't be laughin' about my eyes being open if you weren't doin' the same thing yourself."

"Okay, fine. We'll both close our eyes. Here we go."

Their faces crashed together, mouths just missing each other.

"Fitz!"

"Bloody Hell, Jemma, you told me to close my eyes. I can't see if my eyes are shut; why d' you think I tried to keep them open in the first place?"

"Okay, let's set the trajectory first then." They lined themselves up. "Now we close our eyes, and just to make sure there's no more problems, we'll count it down. Alright?" She closed her eyes. "On three."

"Right. One, two, th-mmmf." He was halfway through speaking, and their teeth clicked unpleasantly.

"Oh, God, sorry. Were you going to say 'three' and then go? I thought 'on three' meant after two."

"Christ, you're right. My mistake. I don't know what I was doin'."

More laughter was threatening to burst out of her, but Fitz looked determined as he prompted, "Third time's the charm?"

"Third and final, I should think. We may actually be drunk, as badly as we've flubbed this."

"Well, of course we're drunk. I thought we established that."

"Mmm," she smiled up at him encouragingly. "Legless, really."

"Plastered out of our skulls," he lowered his lips, tantalizingly close, and she closed the distance, sliding her arms up around his neck. Still holding his bottle, Fitz pressed his left forearm across the back of her waist, right hand gripping the edge of the countertop behind him. Her eyelashes flitted closed as she reveled in the unexpectedness of his mouth. Softer than she'd anticipated, warm and a bit wet, but not in any way that could be called disconcerting. He tasted of lime and beer and salt - it wasn't perfect, but it could've been much worse. And while the teeth-bumping fiasco should probably technically count, Simmons didn't think Fitz would mind if she designated this their first official kiss. A very fine one at that.

They dropped apart after a few seconds. Fitz was looking at her oddly. She debated kissing him again, just to wipe the strangeness from his face. No, I'd best back off. She'd wanted to kiss Fitz, yes, just to know, and so her first kiss would be with her best friend. Now that it was done, Simmons wasn't sure either of them were ready to be any more than they were, not when they had such a valuable friendship and partnership on the line. Plus, in all fairness, she wasn't convinced that "adorable" was really her type. And who knew if she was even his type, for all that Fitz had insisted on seeing this little experiment through.

Herrick rounded the doorway, his lazy smile giving no clue about where he'd been hiding for the past several hours. "You kids fixin' to head out?"

They both startled, Simmons putting a few extra steps between them while Fitz aimed his beer accusingly at his roommate. "The Hell did you go off to? Y' were supposed to be helpin' me win."

"A-ha!" Simmons barked triumphantly. "Fitz, you utter scoundrel!"

"Hey, now, I still beat you without 'im," he jerked a thumb in Herrick's direction and addressed the older cadet again. "So? Where were you?"

Herrick held up a brick of loosely stacked bills. "Earnin' our pizza budget for the month, bucko." A deep, contagious guffaw galloped out of his larynx. "Buncha geniuses, and none of these freshmen can wrangle a half-decent poker face."

Herrick drained his whiskey and tossed the bottle into the bin with a loud clink. "What about y'all? Get up to anythin' fun?" The words carried a note of blatant insinuation.

Every visible patch of skin on both of them had to be crimson. Bless this dim party lighting.

"Erm…" Fitz stammered, "well, we…"

Simmons collected herself. Who was Herrick to judge them? "We got quite drunk," she declared unabashedly, "and there was a faceoff between S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra. You should've seen it; one for the history books, I'd say."

If Herrick was confused, he dissembled admirably. "So y'all got wasted, huh?" His impeccable eyebrows went up, amused.

"Completely," nodded Simmons, and Fitz straightened from his self-conscious hunch, standing taller as he corroborated her story.

"Yep," he concurred. "Won't remember a thing tomorrow."

A/N:

Okay, oh my god you guys. There's a little epilogue coming after this, and then that's really the end. (No! I mean it!)

Well… I was going to do a chapter of Green after finishing Oh To Be Young, but I wanted to do a little fan-appreciation… so they finally got a kiss! (Took 'em long enough, amirite?)

Obviously, this is my contribution to the "Fitzsimmons were each other's first kiss" bandwagon, which I was inspired towards by fics like Anytha84's "Please, don't say you love me" and infinitestarsintheskye's "Four" (among others). In my head canon, neither of them really dated before the Academy, because of their age compared to their classmates, and the fact that they'd simply been too busy. So it made perfect sense that they should have been each other's first kiss. And besides, it's adorable.

I also took inspiration from various "drunken kiss" fics and all the tropes and clichés that go with that, too many to name here (if you felt like I copied you - it certainly wasn't my intention - please message me and I'll be happy to credit you if appropriate) as well as other FitzSimmons "first time" fics like piratesmiley's "it's a sharp shock to your soft side."

The idea that they would catch each other in a lie and it would escalate, is somewhat taken from Friends "The One Where Everybody Finds Out" where Chandler and Phoebe fake-flirt, each trying to force the other to crack first under the pressure.

Shout-out to the wonderful starbrightnights for acting as a human thesaurus. You are font of alcoholic slang, my dear.

I struggled so much with this chapter, y'all. Thanks to my awesome beta amandajbruce for talking me down.