Chapter 34.
Reassured by Clint's words – and the kisses he'd bestowed before he had to leave – Jemma faced the team with a little more confidence in herself, her head held high. After all, she'd been doing just fine in her mission, it wasn't her fault she'd been compromised. Coulson had effectively made the decision to pull her out, and really, she wasn't arguing.
Although it would have been nice not to have to run for her life and jump off a building onto a jet she couldn't see, but, you know. Semantics.
Lance Hunter, Clint's former friend, turned out to be an extremely attractive man. Tallish – about Clint's height – lean and hard as a whip, he had the kind of dry, sardonic English wit that always made Jemma feel homesick. He was sniping at Bobbi when Jemma walked into the kitchen the following morning, and Bobbi was rolling her eyes and scowling at him.
Hunter looked up at Jemma's entry. Brown eyes surveyed her swiftly, and she had the unnerving feeling that he'd mapped and assessed her all in that one glance. His mouth twisted slightly.
"The famous Agent Simmons, I presume," he said dryly.
"Please call me Jemma," deliberately she pasted on a wide smile and walked forward, her hand outstretched. He gave her a second look, and then grudgingly got to his feet and shook her hand.
"Jemma. I'm Lance Hunter. Just call me Hunter, everyone does."
"Very nice to meet you, Hunter," she said, keeping the charm switched on. Remembering what Coulson had told her about making friends and influencing people. Hunter on her side could only be a good thing, since she suspected Bobbi most definitely wasn't.
The other woman had resumed eating – ugh, how could she eat that much and keep that figure? There was a huge plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. Oh, right. All that ass-kicking. Jemma sighed and went to get her fruit and yogurt. Without Clint here to nag her, she'd have to make herself get back on the treadmill. She could run six miles now at a good pace and was proud of the fact. Maybe she could get Skye to help encourage her.
The sniping had stopped now Jemma was in the room. She glanced from Hunter to Bobbi a bit nervously, and then took a seat at the end of the table. Hunter appeared to have finished eating and was just mainlining black coffee now. He watched her with a focussed intensity that reminded Jemma of Clint when he was thinking about something. It was unnerving when another man did it.
"What?" she decided to call him on his rudeness eventually. "Do I have something on my face?"
He smiled, a watchful, dangerous little smile. "A pair of pretty eyes."
Bobbi put down her knife and fork.
Jemma hesitated. "Thanks for the compliment. Don't look too close. My boyfriend wouldn't like it."
Hunter pounced. "You and Barton, hmm? Wouldn't get too confident there. He's not good at respecting relationship boundaries."
Jemma's spoon clinked against the bowl, and she put it down to try and hide the fact that her hands were shaking. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Hunter. There's at least two sides to every story." She tried very hard to ignore the fact that if Bobbi's eyes could shoot laser beams, she'd be a smoking pile of ash.
Hunter's eyebrows shot up. "I'm surprised he actually told you his side." He looked at Bobbi, who immediately looked back at her food and tried to seem as though she was totally disinterested in the conversation, but Jemma could see Hunter's mind start ticking over. "Interesting," he said slowly, looked back at Jemma, and cocked his head. A small smile appeared. "Very interesting."
Oh, God. How did she get involved in this mess? Abandoning the remains of her breakfast, Jemma fled.
"You scared her off, Hunter," she heard Bobbi's voice as she walked out. "Don't spook the children."
"She's no child," Hunter responded. "Very much a woman. I quite see the attraction. Clint always was a lucky bastard."
Beet red, Jemma hurried away. Work. She needed to bury herself in work. Surely there was plenty to do.
She found Fitz in the labs, tinkering with something. He glanced up when she came in, nodded and smiled. Jemma headed over to the workstations she'd had so little time to use and hesitated. Where to start?
Skye came in just then, balancing a bowl of cereal in her hands. "The Cold War's going on in the kitchen," she announced, "steer clear." She hitched herself up to sit on a table and started eating.
"Huh?" Fitz blinked at her.
"Hunter and his ex-wife from hell. She's gotta be a bitch. No one but a bitch could be that gorgeous." Skye took a mouthful of cereal, munched it with a considering look, and swallowed. "Except Natasha Romanoff," she conceded.
"Beautiful woman in the kitchen?" Fitz put down his screwdriver. "I need – a cup of tea. Be back in a bit!"
Skye and Jemma exchanged grins as the door closed behind him. "Same old Fitz," Jemma sighed. "He didn't get anywhere with Darcy?"
Skye grimaced. "He hasn't seen her. We've been so busy, Jemma, we haven't been up to the Tower since you left, and Darcy isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. so she's got no reason to come here. You know Coulson wants as few people as possible knowing about the Playground. It's the only safe place we have left."
Jemma fiddled with a few things on her bench, rearranging them unnecessarily. "You haven't seen Steve since…?"
Skye looked down, her hair dropping forward to hide her face. "Why would he want to see me?"
"That's not what I asked," Jemma walked over to her, smoothing Skye's hair back. "Don't hide from me, sweetie. I know you liked him. You'd never have consented to him touching you otherwise."
Skye's face was red. She put her barely-touched bowl down on the table. "It doesn't matter now. He thinks I'm a slut."
"He does not!" Jemma cried, shocked. "Skye, no!" She was horrified when Skye suddenly burst into tears, and immediately pulled her friend in for a hug. "Oh, Skye, how long have you been feeling like this?"
"I thought he'd come to see me," Skye sobbed. "I thought he liked me, just a little bit. But obviously he thinks I'm a slut and he doesn't even want to be friends with me…"
Jemma's lips tightened and she thought several uncharitable things about Steve Rogers. Of course Skye wasn't going to make the first move to make contact again; how stupid could men be?
Later on, when Skye had been mopped up, convinced to eat her breakfast and redirected into focussing on work, Jemma sent Clint an email.
'Steve Rogers is an idiot. He hasn't even come to see Skye. She thinks he despises her.'
It took a couple of hours for the response to come back. 'She'd be very wrong about that. He's slinking round here like a kicked puppy. Tasha says he's hating on himself for enjoying it. I reckon he can't stop thinking about her.'
Jemma smirked, reading that. 'So what are we going to do about it?' she sent back.
'Leave it to me. Gotta go quiet for a few days, babe, sorry, see you soon.'
She worried about him, of course, but there was absolutely nothing she could do, so she threw herself into work with her usual enthusiasm and tried not to think about it too much.
About a week later, Coulson popped his head round the lab door, looking fondly exasperated. "Fitz, Jemma. My office, please."
They discovered Skye and May already there. Jemma exchanged a confused glance with Skye as Coulson sat down. "It's come to my attention," Phil said, "that you have all been working incredibly hard without a break for months. Starting now, unless we're on a mission, I'll be rotating groups of you out so you get every other weekend off. Hunter, Morse, Mack and Trip can mind the place with me for a few days. The four of you are free to go wherever you like."
"Wherever we like, sir?" May asked disbelievingly.
"Within an hour's flight on the quinjet," Phil qualified. "And as long as you stay together so I can call you back as a group if required."
"Thank you, sir, I believe we'll head for New York," May said instantly.
"It's Friday afternoon, I don't want to see you all until Monday morning. Now scram." Phil's lips twitched in an almost-smile. His eyes met Jemma's, and he inclined his head very slightly.
"Uh, sir," Skye lingered, "I've got some things I'd like to work on – perhaps I could swap with Trip?"
"I need to keep one pilot here in case I have to take the Bus out, Skye," Phil looked at his computer in a clear dismissal. "And I have jobs for the others at the moment. I'm sure you can find wi-fi where you're going. Take your laptop."
"Skye," May grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the office. "You're coming. The Tower's a big place, you can avoid anyone you don't want to see. Now pack your stuff."
"We're going to the Tower? Excellent," Fitz brightened.
Jemma and May exchanged exasperated looks. "Where did you think we were going in New York, Fitz, when we have to stay together and both May's girlfriend and my boyfriend live there? Come on," Jemma tugged Fitz after her, not that he was resisting.
Half an hour later they were in the quinjet, and it was well under an hour to New York and May gently settling the plane down on the Tower's helipad, invisibility mode still engaged. But obviously May at least had called ahead – Jemma couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it – because there was a welcoming committee consisting of Natasha, Clint, and Sam Wilson, who grinned widely to see all of them step out of the jet.
Jemma actually beat May in a sprint across the roof to throw herself at Clint, but May was only half a step behind her and even more demonstrative. It was quite some time before she and Natasha came up for air.
"Oh, get a room," Fitz said, walking past with a grin, shoving Jemma's bag at Clint. "Not that she'll need anything in it, from the look on your face," he snarked at Clint.
"Who's that and what did he do with Fitz?" Clint said in surprise, watching as the engineer disappeared inside the Tower.
"I think he's been spending too much time with your buddy Hunter," Jemma said, laughing at Clint's expression.
"Actually that explains quite a lot. Hello, Skye, good to see you," he bent to kiss Skye's cheek as she came up to him. She'd greeted Sam with a hug and a wide smile, and Sam was carrying her bag for her now. The Falcon winked at Clint over Skye's head and Clint grinned. Sam had very strict instructions for what to do with Skye next.
"Hi Clint. Jemma packed a pretty dress, take her out to dinner and give her a chance to wear it," Skye instructed.
"Why does everyone seem to think that I'm planning to keep you naked in my bed all weekend?" Clint asked, tucking his arm around Jemma's waist and shouldering her bag.
"Hmm – because they've met you?" Jemma giggled as he gave her a dangerous look.
"And you're developing a smart mouth too!"
"Too much hanging around with you, I think…" Jemma's retort was cut off short as he crowded her up against the wall of the elevator and kissed her.
"Got better things for you to do with that mouth than cheek me with it," Clint muttered against her throat. Jemma let out a moan, unable to help from grinding herself against the hardness of his thigh as he rammed it between her legs.
"Oh God, yes please," she gasped as Clint's hands came up to her breasts.
Ahoy, mateys! There be some BioHawk smut ahead…