Welcome back to this odd story-within-a-bunch-of-stories. Here's what you should know: S2E10 Spoilers crop up here and there. Also, this is Part 8 of a story that began back in ch9 of By My Side. I think I'm going to call it The Flying Haggis: Fitzsimmons' Adventures in the Campervan of Awesome. We'll see…
Jemma woke the next morning to a horribly loud banging sound right next to her head.
"Mmph?"
She went to roll over but was prevented by warm arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She relaxed back into the embrace and closed her eyes.
Suddenly there was the banging again.
The comfortable foundation on which she rested her head seemed to shift beneath her. She groaned.
She heard a muffled voice from the other side of the door. "Simmons?" It was Skye. "Are you in there?"
"Mmm," she replied.
"Can I come in?" Skye called.
"If you absolutely have to," she murmured.
The bunk door slid open noisily, jolting Jemma into semi-consciousness. She blinked in the light. Above her, Skye was looking distinctly scandalised.
"What is it?" Jemma whispered, sleepily.
"You and Fitz!" Skye hissed back.
"Me and Fitz what?"
"You spent the night together!"
Jemma shook her head. "No we didn't," she mumbled. "We just watched Sherlock and then…"
Skye took in the bottles littering the floor. "And then fell asleep in a drunken stupor?"
"Yes, that's right. Well, the sleep part is right at least."
Skye pointed to the bed next to her then yanked the curtains open. "He's still here, Jemma."
Jemma's eyes suddenly opened wide. "He is?"
"Has he had his arms wrapped around you like that all night long?" Skye cooed. "That's kind of adorable."
Jemma managed to disentangle herself from Fitz's embrace enough to sit up. "Umm… can you give us a moment, please, Skye?"
Skye held up her palms. "Of course. But find me in the lounge as soon as you can, ok? Coulson wants to see the three of us."
"Ok," Jemma nodded.
Skye left, sliding the bunk door closed behind her.
Jemma looked at Fitz, still snoozing gently beside her. She rubbed her head. It was a bit painful. She was also feeling a mite peckish. She spotted the unopened bag of fortune cookies threatening to disappear down the gap between the bed and the wall and reached over Fitz to rescue them. The movement combined with the loud crackling of the cellophane bag woke him.
"Simmons?" he asked, disoriented.
"Here," she mumbled, shoving the bag of cookies at him. "Breakfast."
He squinted in the bright light streaming through her window as he absent-mindedly reached into the bag. He sat up next to her, leaning bleary-eyed against the bedhead.
"Good morning," he murmured sleepily, breaking the cookie. "Looks like I overstayed my welcome."
"Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together as they do in you," Jemma replied.
Fitz blinked rapidly. He looked over to see that she was reading from her fortune. He laughed, "Why, thank you."
"I think the cookie meant me," she pointed out.
"Of course," he nodded. "It's like the cookie knows you."
"Shut up, Fitz," Jemma yawned.
"Don't you want to hear my fortune?" He turned it the right way up. "A man without aim is like a clock without hands, as useless if it turns as if it stands." He paused for a moment. "Oh, it's too early in the morning for this sort of thing," and he reached for another.
Jemma was already breaking open her second cookie. "Punctuality is the politeness of kings and the duty of gentle people everywhere. Coulson's not going to be very impressed with us then."
"But Jemma, A merry heart does good like a medicine," Fitz laughed, spraying cookie crumbs on the bed spread.
"Gross, Fitz!" she cried, elbowing him in the ribs.
As if wrestling with the little sister he never had, Fitz grabbed her playfully round the waist and lifted her onto his lap. She immediately began tickling him furiously until Fitz cried out for mercy.
She slumped back against the wall, giggling, her legs still lying across Fitz's lap. He reached for the bag of cookies, offered her one and fished another one out for himself.
"A wish is what makes life happen when you dream of rose petals," she informed him faux-earnestly, popping the two halves of the cookie into her mouth.
"Well, that's good to know," he replied, rolling his eyes. "And apparently A new wardrobe brings great joy and change to your life. Well, that's it, Simmons. You'll have to take me shopping right away."
She laughed, only slightly sad that such a shopping trip would be impossible. "We better get up, Fitz," she sighed.
"Do we have to?" he groaned. "I just want to stay here with you and eat congealed Chinese food."
"Me too," she agreed. "Alright, you get up first."
"Why me?" he asked. "You're the one with your legs draped all over me."
"And whose fault is that, I ask you?" she shot back archly.
"Alright, alright," he grumbled good-naturedly. "I'm moving."
She smiled up at him, holding out the almost empty cellophane bag as he clambered to his feet. "Want a fortune cookie for the road?"
"Don't mind if I do," he replied, fishing one out. "Make sure you report anything of note from that fortune though, won't you?" he said, pointing out the last cookie in the bag. "I'd hate to miss out on any gems of quasi-Confucian psycho-babble."
"Scout's honour," she saluted solemnly.
Fitz winked, then slipped out of Jemma's bunk and headed to his own to brush his teeth and change clothes.
Left alone, Jemma cracked open her last cookie. You will take a pleasant journey to a place far away. She smiled. The Atacama Desert, Chile was pretty far away.
Nearer by, a slightly fresher Fitz, now clad in the shirt, tie and cardigan that he happened to know was Jemma's favourite combination, broke open his own last cookie. The slip of paper fell neatly into his hands. On it was printed She's in love with you. Trust me. She is.
He stood still and gazed wide-eyed at the paper for a moment, smiling to himself. Then he caught his own reflection in the mirror. Dr Leopold Fitz, he lectured himself. Aren't you a man who values reason above all else? You're not taking encouragement from a kitsch Chinese baked good that came free with some Szechuan Shrimp now, are you? He glared at himself a moment longer before shoving the broken cookie into his mouth and neatly tucking the fortune into the breast pocket of his shirt. He patted it a few times then shook his head and left to find Jemma.
Even the fortune cookies want them to be together! Stay tuned for the next chapter in which Jemma gives Mack a hard time and Coulson, Fitzsimmons and Skye nut out more of the details of their remote desert mission in the Campervan of Awesome. But it's not actually written yet, so leave a review and let me know if you want to read more of this story!