"Reunion"

"I told you, it isn't a school reunion," Jemma said, her pencil tapping against the tabletop. "Not like in the films. I shouldn't even be there, really. Why am I going? I was studying for university before any of my classmates graduated. I fell out of touch with them when I left high school three years early. Who would even remember to invite me?"

"It's still a reunion," Bruce said.

"Yes, but I didn't graduate with them."

"No. But you started school with them, and that's what they're celebrating, according to the invitation."

She sniffed. "I wish I'd never shown you that thing, now."

"Only because I accepted on your behalf."

"But it wasn't on my behalf, Bruce! I didn't want to go—"

"Ever since your team took cover here, you've been stuck with people much older than you," Bruce pointed out. "Barring Skye – who's usually training – and Fitz – who you're still avoiding for some reason – must of the people in this building are least five years your senior."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"No, because you're a genius and an old soul. You've found kindred spirits here."

Jemma smiled to herself. "Thank you."

"Not a problem."

"Would you like to be my date? You said I'd be taking a plus one."

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go alone," he said, looking at her sternly over the top of his spectacles. "You should take a field agent."

"It's in England; they can't be spared! And I've had some training."

"Take someone with you. At least they'll have your six."

"It just sounds awkward when you say that."

"Not as awkward as you."

She sighed, and slumped on the bench. Bruce looked amused, and she glared at him half-heartedly.

"I want my soulmate to take me," she said.

"I know you do."

"…It would be nice to know who it is."

"Yeah, you kind of need to get that obstacle out of the way." She groaned. "Why don't you ask Jane Foster? She's not with Thor anymore, but she's always around, and I've seen you looking at her."

"My crush is purely professional," Jemma said, straightening up. "I'll have you know—"

"Her field of science has nothing to do with yours."

"Well… well, it's become relevant of late, hasn't it?"

"It's nothing to do with her pixie-like features?"

Her jaw dropped. "Have you been reading my diary?"

"You keep a diary?"

"Yes!"

"Actually, I heard you saying it one day, while you were looking at her. Ogling her, really. Is it all that safe to write down everything you've said during the day?"

"It keeps my memory sharp."

He shrugged, and adjusted his microscope. "Why don't you email her, at least?"

"Why don't you? You have such fun handling my mail."

Bruce snorted. "If you can't take your soulmate with you, take whoever you'd like."

"You sure you don't want to take a trip to the UK?"

"One, I don't think Tony would like me to go on a date with a pretty young woman, in case it got into the blogosphere. Two, I don't think the Other Guy would like it, or the party."

"I doubt it could get terribly noisy," Jemma said.

"Will you have many friends there?"

"Uh… yes…"

"Science nerds like us?"

"Yes," she admitted miserably.

"Were you bullied?"

"Of course."

"Then you don't want me with you. Take someone who's not gonna Hulk out and beat up your enemies."

"I suppose you're right. Very well." She exhaled slowly. "I'll ask Dr. Foster. She's returning to London tomorrow, so I can meet her over there. It won't be too much of an inconvenience for her, then."

"Don't forget to visit your parents."

"I won't. I'll be picked up as soon as I reach Heathrow, no doubt."

Bruce frowned. "You still haven't told me who your parents are."

"Oh… Dad is in the British government. Mum works for him, though no one knows they're married, nor about me. She's always sending me messages through her Blackberry, telling me what they're up to. And my uncle… well, uncles, if she's in the right mood."

"Bring them over to visit us."

"My uncles?" Jemma said, horrified by the idea. "One of them alone would be bad enough, especially Uncle She… No. No, not happening."

He chuckled. "I meant your parents."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure they could get the clearance, but Dad's so terribly British, and Mum uses so many different names and doesn't tell anyone the real one…"

"I'm thinking it's one particular branch of the British government?"

"So, my high school reunion!" Jemma said brightly, changing the subject to something slightly less horrifying than the prospect of her family meeting her friends. "How soon do you think I can get tickets?"

Darcy was happy to give her Dr. Foster's email address. After the first email, she was told to call her 'Jane', that she would wear red, unless it clashed with what Jemma was wearing – which it wouldn't, thankfully – and that she was delighted to be able to help out. 'And see a familiar face', she wrote.

"Don't be nervous, don't be nervous," Jemma muttered, playing with her hair while she stared at herself in a mirror.

They hadn't been able to meet up beforehand, communicating via text and email. They had agreed to pretend to be a couple, since it would arouse suspicions if Jemma had an American friend who just happened to be in London. It was true, but they couldn't afford the risk of someone recognising Jane as Thor's ex-girlfriend, or even being part of the group who saved (and wrecked) Greenwich.

"I can't do this," Jemma said. "Bruce, I can't do this."

"Just wear the dress we sent you," Tony said. "Turn around so we can see you."

She approached her laptop and did a spin, so that Bruce and Tony could admire the dress over Skype.

"You look lovely," Bruce said. "How are you getting there?"

"Dad's sending an armoured car, apparently. Dr. Foster… damn it, Jane is meeting me downstairs."

"You're not staying with your parents?"

"Stop fishing for information about my parents, Tony!" She half-smirked. "You'll never find anything, especially if you're looking for a Mr. Simmons. I used my mother's maiden name when I moved to America. We thought it best."

While Tony huffed and complained to Bruce, Jemma drew a comb through her hair again, and shuffled in her shoes. She'd broken them in, but her feet were still aching from the effort. She moved the chain of her necklace to centre the clasp at the back, and then picked up her handbag. She slung it over her shoulder, happy that at least the colour matched the dress and shoes exactly.

"Thank you for this," she said. "You've been so kind."

"Not a problem," Tony said. "We slipped some instruction manuals into your bags before you left—"

"Tony slipped them in, not me," Bruce corrected.

"What? I had to sign a customs declaration saying that I knew exactly what was in my luggage!"

"Don't worry, we didn't slip any drugs into the toys."

"Toys?" Jemma turned paler than usual, and sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't do this."

"You have to," Bruce said, pointing behind her. "The door's there. Your doctor is downstairs. Don't go standing her up, or she'll think you don't like her."

Well, that wouldn't do.

"Alright," she said, standing up. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it," Bruce said firmly. "Just have fun, and remember that you save the world on a regular basis, even if it's just in small ways. You've saved lives. You have two doctorates. Brainy is the new sexy."

"And you're gorgeous anyway, so you're a double threat," Tony said. "Go fly, little bird."

Jemma waved, and ended the call. She shut down the laptop, placed a mother-of-pearl decorative comb in her hair, and then left the room. She couldn't keep still, moving from one foot to the other outside the lift, then inside, alarming the attendant. As soon as the door was open, she thanked him, and trotted into the foyer.

Wow. Jane Foster was there in all her petite, fiery glory, decked in a knee-length dress with a modest neckline. The material was a deep scarlet red, deliciously wicked, and she was wearing high heels with laces twining halfway up her calves. She smiled when she saw Jemma, and her knees nearly went from under her.

"Don't be nervous, don't be nervous," she murmured to herself, stepping down the last few steps. "Don't be nervous…"

"Sorry to say, but I think you're failing at that," Jane said, her eyes sparkling.

"I don't like to fail," Jemma said, when she finally unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Well.

…Bruce had seen both their handwriting, and he'd seen Jemma's mark when they were playing drinking games. The clever, conniving bastard.

"Really?" Jane said, her eyes widening. She looked Jemma up and down. "I'm glad it's you."

"You are?" Jemma asked breathlessly.

"I wouldn't do this for just anyone, not even as a favour to Bruce Banner-Stark."

There was no point to foundation if it couldn't conceal blushes. Jemma touched her burning cheeks.

"I've had a crush on you for so long," she said. "It's terribly embarrassing. That's why I haven't spoken to you before now. Didn't… didn't want to be disappointed when I found out that you weren't my soulmate."

"But I am your soulmate," Jane said, taking her hands. "I'm glad, you know. I said yes as a favour to Bruce, but I would've wanted to say yes anyway, especially after he sent me a picture of the dress you were going to wear. I wanted to see you wearing it." She touched the silky green fabric, and Jemma shivered. "You look beautiful, but I'm looking forward to seeing you out of it later."

"Oh." Jemma ducked her head. "You look beautiful, as well."

"Come on." Jane entwined their elbows. "Is the car out front for us?"

"There's certainly supposed to be one waiting."

It was a long, black car, as Jemma had anticipated. What she didn't expect, when they climbed into the vehicle, was the couple sitting opposite.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jemma exclaimed.

"Hello, dear."

"Don't you 'Hello, dear' me, Mum!"

"Your parents?" Jane said, strapping herself in. "The others will be jealous that I'm meeting them first."

"It's only right that your soulmate meet us, first."

"Of course you knew, Dad," Jemma said, burying her face in her hands. "Of course. Why am I surprised? I don't know why I'm surprised."

"We have known for years," he said, eyeing Jane critically. "Why else do you suppose HYDRA hasn't been able to touch you?"

"Wow," Jane said, blinking. "Uh, thanks."

"Yes, that's very kind of you, Dad, but I wish we'd been able to find out first. That's how it usually goes. Honestly, I thought it was just Bruce and Tony, but you? Typical."

"When has this family ever done the usual thing?" her mother said, smiling her laughing smile.

"It doesn't matter," Jane said, taking Jemma's hand. "I think it's sweet."

"You haven't run screaming yet, so I'll take that as a good sign," Jemma said, still frowning at her parents. "But then you haven't met Uncle Sh—"

"And you won't," her father said. "Not yet. If you do, Jemma may never return to London, and we like to see her in person occasionally."

"I'm starting to think that your uncle is crazy," Jane said.

"Not far off," Jemma admitted.

"Of course, we will wait outside the hotel to take Dr. Foster back to her flat afterwards."

"Dad!"

"And I will be having words with Mr. Stark about the surprises he slips into your luggage in future."

"…Well, that I would appreciate."

Oops. Descended into meet-the-parents territory quite quickly there. The implication is that Jemma's parents are Mycroft and 'Anthea' from the BBC series Sherlock. Ship requested by zandperl. Do we call it Doctor J-Squared?

Okay, so I had a job interview today, and I'm pretty sure the panellists think I'm a nutcase, including the one I've known for over a year and a half. I've been fretting about it for several days. Now that the interview's over, I'm just gonna try to forget all about it. Strange that the previous chapter involved Deadpool looking for work; that wasn't a conscious thing on my part. I'm just weird like that.

Please review!