Chapter Text
The Scientific Method
Chapter 7: Trial and error
Fitz doesn’t get much sleep that night. It’s one of those nights where you think you don’t sleep at all but still probably do, even if it’s just a little bit. He figures he probably slept even if he feels exhausted, because when he opens his eyes, startled awake without knowing why, Jemma and him are not in the same position that he remembers being in.
He’s laying on his side, and she’s mirroring his position. They’re facing each other, his knees touching hers under the covers. She had let go of his hand at some point during the night, but their fingers are still brushing against each other on the mattress. She’s close, her head slightly lower than his on the pillow, and if he wanted he could lean forward just a bit and kiss her forehead.
He’s very tempted to, but he doesn’t.
This is definitely less terrifying than the last time he woke up in her bed though. The thought brings a tiny smile to his lips, despite his stiff neck and his eyes burning from exhaustion. It’s still early it seems, from the pale light filtering through the curtains they forgot to close properly last night, but now that he’s awake his brain doesn’t seem keen on getting back to sleep anytime soon.
He’s not as uncomfortable as he thought he would be sleeping in his jeans, but as his brain regains consciousness the previous night’s events start playing back in his mind. As a result, he’s growing more and more restless, almost desperate to toss and turn to try and make sense of everything. But Jemma is still deeply asleep next to him, and he doesn’t want to wake her up, especially when she probably needs to rest a lot to cure the probable hangover she’s gonna sport today.
Knowing perfectly that there’s no way he’s getting back to sleep now, he chooses to slip out of bed and get back to his room to figure things out. He leaves her a note, next to the refilled glass of water on her bedside table, so that she won’t worry when she wakes up. He’s extremely glad not to encounter anyone on his way back to his room. As soon as he’s made it back, he collapses on his bed and lets out a long breath, exhausted but very much overthinking at the same time.
Last night was a lot, to say the least.
He’s pretty sure now that Jemma likes him. Which should be a very good thing. He’s been trying to figure out if she did for a week, and now he has his answer. He should be ecstatic to know that she does, because even if she didn’t specifically say the words, it was still kind of obvious from all the clues he gathered yesterday.
And yet.
It somehow feels bittersweet, and he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because it doesn’t exactly feel real, despite him being pretty sure that it’s true. Or maybe it’s because she thinks he doesn’t like her back. He’s still unsure how she can think that. She’s the most wonderful person he’s ever met, how could he not fall in love with her? How could he stay indifferent to her? Doesn’t she realize how incredible she is? How he just couldn’t help falling for her, how he tried because he thought it wasn’t right since she was his best friend first, and how he completely failed?
She was sad. She drank too much because she was sad, and when he asked her why, she asked him if he liked Ophelia. She was sad because of him, because she saw him talking with Ophelia instead of her and thought he liked the older girl better than his best friend in the world. It’s not true, at all, but it doesn’t matter because it’s still his fault. He should have told Ophelia to bugger off sooner. He should have spent his entire night with Jemma. He should have stuck with her as she talked with the other cadets, should have slipped into that conversation about dissection, should have insisted on staying with her throughout the night.
He’s not entirely sure why he didn’t do just that.
He had such high hopes for last night, and nothing happened as planned. When do things ever do, anyway? He should have kissed her last Sunday, when they were studying outside. He should have stopped her before she ran away after kissing his cheek Thursday night, and kissed her properly. Or on Wednesday, when she told him that her presentation went well, or on Tuesday, when she asked him to stay for the night.
Oh God.
She asked him to stay for the night, and he said no. She kissed him on the cheek, and then he acted super weird the next day because he was embarrassed. She’s been trying to spend more and more time with him, leaning closer, acting different, and he’s been almost keeping her at bay because he was too busy trying to figure out if she liked him using science instead of his fucking common sense like the huge asocial moron he is.
Ugh, no wonder she thinks he doesn’t like her back.
Honestly, he thinks he doesn’t deserve her to like him. He’s too much of a fucking idiot for that.
Ugh, but maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he was so sure she just couldn’t possibly like him that every little sign he saw just didn’t seem like enough evidence. Yeah, that’s probably exactly it. He was too busy being the self-deprecating ass he always is to face the truth. Ugh, and he’s apparently not stopping.
Shaking his head, he stands up from the bed and decides on a shower to try and get out of his head a little. It obviously doesn’t work at all. When he gets out, he gets dressed in a shirt and comfy pants, thinking to himself he’ll try and work on some things for his classes, but that’s obviously not an option. He keeps checking his phone, half hoping Jemma will text him as soon as she wakes up, even though it’s still fairly early and she’s probably still sleeping.
He notices the blinking light indicating that his battery is low, so he opens his drawer to find his charger, and his eyes fall on his experiment notebook. He puts his phone on charge, then grabs the notebook, flipping through it. He’s surprised by the anger he feels rising in him as he does. Why can’t he be more straightforward? Why couldn’t he just ask her? He should have stayed that Friday morning, and talked things through with her.
He can still feel her moving against him. It’s been 8 days, and it’s still perfectly imprinted in his mind. Maybe it was on purpose. Maybe she ground her bum against him when she felt him hard, maybe she thought something could happen right then. Oh God, he’s such an idiot. Speaking about being an idiot, if she did do that on purpose, maybe she thought something would happen between them on Tuesday night too, when she asked him if he wanted to stay. Maybe she wanted to taste his lips too, that night.
Such a fucking idiot.
No more experiments. He’s getting his head out of his ass and asking her out today.
If she’s changed her mind, then that’s on him. He’d probably deserve it, honestly.
In a fit of anger, he dumps the notebook in the trashcan next to his dresser, and lets out a disgruntled groan as he falls back down on the bed once again…
Only to stand back up real fast when there’s a soft knock on his door a second after.
His heart is suddenly pounding, and he obviously gets a head rush because he’s an idiot, but it doesn’t matter because then he hears her voice behind the door asking if he’s there. He stumbles to the door and opens it, hoping his burning cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. There she is, standing in the doorway, looking a little shy and a lot beautiful, and he forgets his words for a moment.
“Hi Fitz,” she says after a few seconds, probably since he’s not saying anything, and he shakes his head to try and come back to his senses and stop acting like a fucking moron.
“Jem– Simmons, hey,” he stammers, then mentally slaps himself when her face falls a little. He’s ruining everything. Oh God this is terrifying. He didn’t get enough time, he’s not prepared! He can’t improvise on the spot and ask her out just like that, that’s not him!
“Can I come in?” she asks, her voice hesitant, and he nods instantly.
“Yes, right.”
He turns around, walking back inside his room, leaving her to close the door behind her. He takes a quick breath before turning back to her, and when he does, he’s transported back to a kind of similar moment a little over two years ago, to that very first time she came to his room to help him with a problem, back during their first year. She’d been late, 24 minutes late to be precise, he still remembers it perfectly, and he had thought she’d stood him up – when in fact she’d just run into Weaver in the quad and got trapped in a good conversation. When she’d finally arrived, he was a stammering mess, so excruciatingly uncomfortable that he kept saying rude things despite himself.
Things had changed that night, although he’s still not sure how or why, and it had been the start of the most amazing friendship he’s ever had. He still thinks he’s extremely lucky she looked past his social ineptitude and became friends with him.
And now maybe more?
Oh God.
She’s looking at him, wringing her hands, and he can feel her nervousness even from where he stands near the foot of the bed. He wants to move closer, but he’s so scared to ruin things he can’t bring himself to move. She bites her lip, looking down at her feet for a second, and then back up, drawing in a breath as if to steady her nerves, and he inhales sharply as well, his heart pounding almost painfully in his chest.
“Fitz I–” she starts, then cuts herself, rolling her hands in two fits at her side, “I’m, I just, I came here to apologize for last night, I–”
And oh.
Oh no.
He’s read the signs wrong. She doesn’t like him, she was just drunk, she doesn’t want things to change, she–
“–I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I never meant to make you uncomfortable in any way–”
Her eyes are shiny, and he thinks maybe she’s close to tears, or maybe he’s totally wrong and he’s the one close to tears, he has no fucking idea and it’s killing him.
“I’m really sorry and I promise it won’t happen again,” she trails off, avoiding his eyes, and the dread flooding his veins is almost powerful enough to make him break right on the spot.
“Oh that’s–” he stammers out, voice cracking, “I mean I’m– that’s– okay.”
She looks up, and their eyes meet, and for a moment they stare at each other, the silence surrounding them heavy and deafening. Then she looks away, and he thinks her lower lip is trembling a little, and it’s breaking his heart all over again, but what can he do? He wants to walk to her and hold her in his arms, but she’s made it clear that last night was a mistake, so it’s probably not the right thing to do.
He hates to see her so conflicted all the same. It doesn’t matter in the end of she doesn’t want him the way he wants her, the only thing that matters to him is for her to be happy.
He’s taking a shy step towards her, not entirely sure what he wants to do, but then she speaks again, with a self-deprecating chuckle that really is nothing Jemma-like. “Sorry I ruined your night I– hey, why are you throwing away this notebook, it looks perfectly fine!”
She reaches towards the trashcan, and a small part of himself thinks she’s just looking for something to say to change the subject and make things less awkward between them after her apology.
And then his heart, and his brain, and everything that’s him, just stops working when he registers her words.
She grabs the notebook, and he thinks he’s about to puke.
Not this, she can’t see this, she can’t–
“Fitz what is this?”
Oh no, oh no no no no no…
She’s frowning, staring at the open notebook, and if he could remember how to move, he would snatch it out of her hands before she could read anything, but he’s frozen. Frozen in fear, in embarrassment, he can’t think, he can’t move, can’t even–
“Fitz, is that… what…” her voice is breathless, and when she looks up to meet his eyes, he thinks he spots some deep surprise in her hazel eyes, mixed with anger and… awe? “Are those… experiments? Who’s the… the… subject?”
Somehow this question brings him back to life, and he takes a stumbling step towards her. “Oh that’s, that’s nothing I–”
“There’s my name here.”
This, paired with the piercing look she gives him, effectively shuts him up. She goes back to flipping through the pages, and he can’t even find it in himself to be mad, because honestly he had it coming. He could be angry at her for invading his privacy or whatever, but then again, he thinks he’d want to read a notebook if it had his name in it too. Oh God there’s so many things in there he doesn’t want her to see. “Jemma I’m sorry I–”
“Honestly I want to be mad,” she cuts him again, and he snaps his mouth shut, cheeks burning. “But at the same time I… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so organized in writing before Fitz, I mean… this is… very thorough.”
“Um, thanks?”
She looks up again, her gaze so sharp he instantly regrets even opening his mouth. He thinks he makes a small, ridiculous noise, and she narrows her eyes at him before going back to reading, and he wants to collapse on his bed and hide under the covers. That would be ridiculous though, and he thinks he’s already made enough of a fool out of himself today. She came here to apologize, and now it’s definitely his turn. Ugh, how dumb did he have to be to dump the stupid thing in the open like that?
He’s the worst.
The absolute worst.
“Jemma I–”
“So what’s your take on all of this?” she cuts him once again, closing the notebook with a sharp snap that makes him jump. She raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him and he gulps, looking for his words, but she doesn’t let him the time to even open his mouth. “Did you reach a conclusion?”
Her cheeks are a little flushed as she stares at him, and he’s not sure if it’s born from anger or something else. She’s awfully composed, her stern face not letting him guess what she’s thinking or feeling in the slightest, and a little part of him is definitely impressed because he has no idea how she does it.
He thinks he’d be a sputtering angry mess if roles were reversed.
Did you reach a conclusion?
He thought he did. Until she showed up this morning to apologize about last night, and now he knows nothing. He’s so confused, so scared of ruining everything between them, that he blurts out his answer without even thinking about it.
“Um, no. The results were uh, inconclusive.”
She scoffs, and he didn’t think it possible but he’s pretty sure he blushes even harder under her gaze. It’s like his entire face is burning, and his heart has been pounding in his chest for so long that it’s leaving him even more physically exhausted than before. It’s nothing compared to the maelstrom of emotions coursing through him though. He’s so terrified he can barely breathe. He even finds himself hoping this is just a nightmare and he’s about to wake up in Jemma’s bed again. Or maybe the entire previous week is just a dream, he’s just nodded off while studying for their holographic engineering test.
He snaps out of his very wishful thinking when she sets the notebook down on the dresser behind her, then takes a small step closer to him. She’s assessing him, her gaze firm and impenetrable, and a shiver runs up his spine all of a sudden. He cannot take his eyes off her, acutely aware of everything that’s her in this very moment. He still has no idea what she thinks, or if she even wants to be friends with him anymore, but somehow all of that drops to the background in that moment, only leaving her, and him, standing there looking at each other in the middle of his bedroom.
He wants to say something, wants to apologize, wants to beg for her to forgive him, but he can’t say a thing, not when she’s looking at him like that. He doesn’t even know what that is. She’s closer now, he could grab her hand right now if he had the guts. He doesn’t.
She bites her lip, and he forces his eyes not to drop down to look. He’s not entirely sure he managed that, but then it doesn’t matter anymore, because she takes another step forward, and now she’s very, very close, and he can’t breathe. Her jaw is set, her eyes focused, and he thinks he’s never wanted to kiss her more badly than he does at that very moment.
“How about you consider this independent variable?” she asks, and for a split second he’s confused.
And then she’s kissing him.
Right on the lips. Her hand on his chest, and her lips on his lips.
Soft and warm, light and shy, new and yet familiar, like his lips were always meant to touch hers that way. In any case, he’s pretty sure his brain and his heart both explode at the contact.
It only lasts a second, he thinks. Then she moves back, and he realizes he’s closed his eyes so he blinks them open to meet her hazel eyes, feeling deliciously lightheaded.
“Oh.”
“So?” she chuckles, and he’s very pleased to hear the slight breathlessness in her voice. Jemma Simmons just kissed him. “What do you think?”
What does he think? He wants to tell her the truth, which is, absolutely nothing, because his mind is delightfully blank at the moment – a first, really – but then he thinks better of it. He knows what he’s thinking. He knows what he wants.
More.
“Let me just–” he starts, and then he’s kissing her, and she makes a small surprised noise before smiling against his lips, and his heart soars so high he’s pretty sure it just flies right out of his chest. They break apart after a few seconds, and she gives him an amused, questioning look that makes him want to kiss her all over again and never ever stop, but then he also thinks he needs to explain his reasoning because he’s pretty sure she’s going to like it. “I mean, you know how things work,” he says with a very falsely casual shrug that makes her grin, “I think– well, I know I need a– a large sample size to be able to, you know, draw sensible conclusion.”
“Right,” she nods, her smile turning a little mischievous, and a delighted shiver runs through him. “That makes sense. How about this?”
And then she’s stepping even closer, moving her hands up to thread her fingers through his hair, stands on her tiptoes and kisses him hard, stealing his breath away. Her insanely soft lips slightly part and then he feels the tip of her tongue tracing his lower lip, and he can’t help himself and gasps against her mouth. It makes her chuckle and she leans back, laughing when he tries to follow, desperate for more contact. He realizes his hands flew to her waist of their own volition while they were kissing, but she’s not complaining, so he’s definitely not complaining either.
“So?” she asks again, her smile turning as bright as the sun when he pouts a little in response. She bumps his nose with hers, and he wonders if one can die of too much happiness.
Oops, there he is again, the giant sap she turns him into. Once again, can’t complain.
He pretends to think for a second, delighted to hear her chuckle. Making her laugh is definitely one of his favorite thing in the whole world – alongside science, monkeys, and also kissing her. Right now, he definitely thinks more kissing is in order. “I think I really need more data to–”
She cuts him with another searing kiss, and he thinks excitedly that this is definitely the best way he’s ever been shut up in his entire life. He even makes a mental note to tell her that she can feel free to shut him up like that anytime she wants, really. And then he absolutely melts against her as they kiss, wrapping his arms around her to keep her close because honestly, he really just wants to do this for the rest of his life now.
Maybe he’d miss food and science after a while, but really he thinks that’d be worth it.
She does the thing with her tongue again, and then he decides to try it and she moans against his lips, which is probably the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his entire life. But then they do it at the same time, and before he can fully register what’s happening their tongues are dancing around each other and his heart explodes in his chest again. When they break apart after a little while, he barely moves back, leaning his forehead against hers as he draws in a shuddering breath, before spotting her smug little grin. In normal circumstances, it would make him roll his eyes, but he’s so busy being over the fucking moon from the direction things are taking that he just pouts a little instead.
Her smirk turns fond, and she pecks his lips lightly. “You’re so dumb for a genius.”
“Hey!” he scoffs indignantly, moving back to meet her eyes, but she chases his lips and gives him another kiss, this time trapping his lower lip between hers, effectively wiping his brain off entirely. He blinks a little dumbly when she leans back, and she drops her hands to his chest, over his pounding heart. He thinks she can probably feel how fast it’s beating, and maybe he could feel a little embarrassed about it, but he actually doesn’t at all.
He thinks he’s glad she can feel what she’s doing to him – to his heart, and then to other regions of himself as well.
“You know you could have just asked?” she teases, looking very satisfied with herself, and this time he does roll his eyes.
“Ugh, I’m disappointed in you Simmons,” he pretends to sigh, shaking his head, “if you think I could have just asked then you clearly don’t know me at all.” Seeing that she’s opening her mouth to probably argue about that, he somehow manages to get a little bolder and bumps her nose softly with his, smiling smugly. “But who cares really, it still worked, didn’t it?”
She shoves him a little in response, rolling her eyes, but then she’s kissing him again and honestly he doesn’t think it can get much better than this. They kiss for a while, for seconds or maybe hours, he’s not entirely sure. It makes sense, he thinks, time is after all relative. He’s never been more aware of that fact now that he’s so very busy snogging Jemma Simmons.
Best day ever.
Somehow this thought brings him back to last Sunday, because that was one very good day as well, and a small question crosses his mind, distracting him a little from the wonderful things he’s feeling thanks to her lips pressed against his. He leans back after a few more seconds, breaking the kiss, and his heart jumps high in his chest when she pouts a little, her eyes still closed. “Can I ask you something?” he ventures, a little breathless, and a small grin graces her lips before she moves her mouth to the side of his neck, making shivers run up and down his entire body.
“Mhm?”
Oh God, what was it that he wanted to ask her again? He lets out a moan and feels her smile against his skin, and yeah his brain is definitely completely gone. He’s crunching the soft fabric of her blouse in his fists, trying to remember how to even breathe because honestly wow. It takes him a minute, but then he manages to get the words out of his mouth despite Simmons’s very obvious attempt to distract him. “On, on Sunday, were you, ah, were you about to kiss me?”
She moves back at his words, with a smug little smile, but her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright, and he thinks she’s never looked so beautiful. “I think I was yes,” she nods, and she sounds a little sheepish, which is kind of surprising given what she was just doing – driving him mad with open mouth kisses all over his neck.
“Then I opened my big mouth,” he laments himself a little, and she chuckles, wrapping her arms around his waist when he pretends to move away.
“Honestly I kind of hoped you would say something last Friday when, you know,” she trails off, meeting his eyes with her mischievous ones, and he feels himself blush hard.
“Bloody hell don’t remind me,” he whines, letting his head drop to her shoulder, and she chuckles again, “that was fucking embarrassing.”
He feels her shrug, but he doesn’t move just yet, because damn she smells so good he can’t get enough of her. “Nothing to be embarrassed about really,” she tells him kindly, running her fingers lightly at the nape of his neck, and goosebumps raise all over his skin. “I mean I…” she trails off again, her hand falling back to his chest, and then his hip. “I liked what I felt,” she whispers in his ear, and before he knows what’s happening she’s tugging at one of his belt loops, flushing their hips together, and he lets out a very manly squeak.
“Jemma!” He’s so shell-shocked that he leans back, cheeks very hot when he meets her playful gaze. He can’t believe she just said that. He can’t believe she just… there’s no way she’s not feeling how completely turned on he is right now, and she’s willingly, she’s, ah, this is too much, no thoughts, brain empty. “Can’t believe you just said that,” he hears himself say, but the only response she gives him is another smug little smirk that makes his heart jump in his chest.
Then she lightly pushes his chest with both hands, and he reluctantly lets go of her waist, not entirely sure what she’s doing. He takes a step back when she pushes again, and then another, and then the back of his knees hurt something soft and his brain runs wild with possibilities when she lightly shoves him again, making him sit down on the edge of the bed. He looks up, keeping his eyes fixed in hers, completely dazed. A little part of him is very thankful he chose trousers instead of jeans earlier, because he would have been extremely uncomfortable by then. The rest of him is staring in adoration at the wonder that is Jemma Simmons.
She gives him a soft smile, moving in between his legs, and he desperately wants to kiss her again, but her eyes are searching his face for something it seems, so he stays still, staring up at her and hoping she finds whatever it is that she wants to find written in his eyes. She softly cups his cheek, and he leans into her touch, thinking to himself if he could purr like a cat he definitely would right now. He also thinks he really, really wants to touch her, maybe slide his hands back and cup her very nice bum, or even better, since he’s kind of face to face with her boobs right now, he’s definitely sure he can figure out something very nice to do about that. He’s not entirely sure if she would be okay with that though, so he figures maybe he can just ask. “Can I–”
“I really like you Fitz,” she blurts out at the same time, and he gapes at her and her rosy cheeks for a moment, amazed.
“I– I really like you too,” he eventually hears himself stammer, and the relief on her face is obvious, so before he can stop himself he adds, “Jemma.”
The solar smile she gives him at that is probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life, he thinks. “I like it when you call me Jemma,” she tells him a little shyly, and he grins back, his heart doing a happy little jump once again.
“I like it too.”
“I think we,” she cuts herself, wetting her lips – which is very distracting, although she doesn’t quite seem to notice how much – then shakes her head and gives him another smile. “You’re my best friend in the world, and obviously that matters but I thought, I mean, maybe we could–”
“Be girlfriend and boyfriend?” he supplies helpfully, and is delighted to see the pretty blush on her cheeks at that. She really is the most perfect human being he’s ever gotten the chance to meet.
“Yeah?” her smile is so shy and hopeful it effectively takes his breath away.
God he’s so in love with her.
“I’d like that,” he nods once, and she bites down her smile, leaning forward, and then they’re kissing again, and the angle is different now that he’s sitting and she’s standing, but he absolutely adores it just as much, if not more. He can’t believe he’s kissing Jemma Simmons. Kissing her, for real. He moves his hands to her hips, and she cups his cheeks with both of hers, treading the tips of her fingers through his hair, and he moans against her lips. His reaction seems to embolden her because she moves even closer, and then she’s flushed against him and he wraps his arms around her, keeping her there for good.
He definitely does not intend to let go of her anytime soon.
He’s pretty sure he’s in heaven right now.
She bites his lower lip lightly then soothes it with her tongue, and he’s almost heady with desire at this point. His brain somehow switches to auto-pilot after that, which he thinks is extremely cool because he obviously has no idea what he’s doing at the moment. According to the delicious little sounds she’s making, she definitely likes it as well. He unwinds one of his arms from around her waist, letting his hand slide against the perfect curve of her bum, smiling against her lips when he feels the shiver running through her. Her blouse has ridden up a little, and he lets his thumb run under it, along her incredibly smooth skin, and she gasps, her fingers tensing in his hair.
He’s painfully hard now, has been for a while – pretty much since the very first time she kissed him, if he’s honest with himself – and it seems as if things are progressing real fast all of a sudden, especially when she rolls her hips against his chest a little, making him gasp against her lips yet again.
That’s when he gets a little dizzy with all the possibilities, and he breaks the kiss and scoots back a little, enough to meet her eyes, because there’s so many things he wants to ask her right now. Her lips are kiss-swollen and her pupils are dilated, and his heart almost aches at how beautiful she is. Somehow, it becomes extremely important to ask her one thing in particular.
“So um,” he starts, gulping under her surprised and questioning eyes, “how about, I mean, would you like to,” –why is this so hard to say this when they were just sucking faces seconds ago?– “would you like to go on a date with me?”
There’s a shift in her eyes that he can’t quite explain, and then she leans down to kiss him lightly again, smiling against his lips. “I’d love to,” she tells him in a soft whisper, her breath tickling his lips, and he smiles too, heart jumping in his chest.
It’s official. Best day ever.
“Right now though,” she adds before he can say anything, her grin turning a little mischievous again, “I think I’d really like to continue this a little, if that’s okay with you?”
He gapes at her as she raises a definitely suggestive eyebrow, and then before he can even properly process what’s happening, she’s putting both of her hands on his shoulders and straddling him, and his brain entirely shuts off at that. He knows she knows what she’s doing to him right now, from the little glint of mirth in her eyes and the smug grin on her lips, but he can’t bring himself to care because then she’s kissing him again, hot and messy, pressing herself against his hard-on, and really that’s just, fuck.
She chuckles against his mouth, and he realizes he probably said that out loud. “Should I take that as a yes?” she asks teasingly, and he groans, chasing her lips, which makes her chuckle again. “Fitz?”
“Yes, very much yes,” he mumbles, muffling her amused laugh with another kiss, and then thinking to himself this is definitely a very good way to shut her up too. Maybe they could come up with a system of some sorts, where they’re both allowed to shut the other up like that during an argument, in specific conditions of course. Oh God, how is he supposed to get anything done now that he knows what it feels like to kiss her?
The question completely eludes him when she starts grinding against him, and then his brain is completely free of any verbalized thought for quite some time after that. He’s lost in haze of hot lips and wandering hands, sensations he’s never felt before and feelings threatening to make his heart burst.
That is, until her cold fingers skim across the skin of his neck, then start working on his shirt, one button, then another one, and suddenly he’s breaking the kiss again, heart pounding hard. He’s not entirely sure why, but fear is gripping his brain and he moves back a little, fighting himself not to reflexively shoo her hands away from his shirt. “Wait, wh– what–”
Her eyes widen and she lets her hands fall, looking surprised and apologetic and maybe a little worried, too. “I’m sorry,” she stammers shyly, “am I going too fast? We can stop if you want, I didn’t mean to–”
“No!” he squeaks, and she almost jumps in surprise, which instantly makes him feel bad, “I mean, I’m okay, it’s just, I’m just, I–” he has no idea what this is, why he freaked out so much over her trying to take his shirt off – honestly, it makes sense for her to want that, seeing the way things are progressing, right? – but she’s staring at him, definitely worried now, and he needs to find an explanation fast. The good thing is, he has a tendency to ramble in stressful situations, and this time his ramble actually gives the explanation for itself without him really thinking it beforehand. “It’s just, I’m not, I mean, obviously I– I love this, but I’m not, I’m just not like, ugh, I’m a lot less, I mean, compared to all your other uh–”
“Oh Fitz.”
The tone of her voice tells him she gets what he’s trying to say, but he’s too embarrassed to look her in the eye now. He’s not entirely sure why his insecurities about his body came back rushing now, and he thinks it absolutely sucks because now he’s ruined the mood. He’s nothing like the other guys she’s dated. They were all the definition of tall, dark and handsome, while he’s… well, definitely not that at all. He’s skinny and pasty and honestly not that good looking either, and fuck what is she seeing in him anyway?
“Fitz. Fitz, look at me.”
Her voice is soft, but stern, and his heart skips a beat when he looks up to meet her eyes again. He’s surprised by the determined look on her face. He has no idea what to say, because yes he’s nothing like the other guys she’s dated, but he’s also the one she’s straddling right not, the one she’s been kissing senseless for the last half-hour, and he’s probably being an absolute idiot once again, isn’t he?
There’s a shift in her eyes, and he thinks she knows he’s come back to his senses and realized how dumb he was being, and maybe that’s what people mean when they tell them they’re psychically linked. She gives him a small, tentative smile, and he smiles back a sheepish thing, shrugging a little in an apologetic gesture. She pretends to roll her eyes good-naturedly, and he wants to kiss her again, but before he can, she grabs the hem of her shirt and takes it off in one swift move.
And fuck, he’s definitely in heaven right now.
“I want this,” she tells him seriously, waggling her finger between them. “I want you.”
All he can do is kiss her hungrily after that.
They work together on unbuttoning his shirt, with her going down and him going up, and then she helps him shrug it off before pressing herself against him, bare skin against bare skin, and they both moan at the wonderful feeling. She encourages him to cup one of her breasts through her cotton bra, and he’s very happy to comply. He drops a trail of kisses to her jaw and then down her neck as he does, and the little sighs and moans she makes because of it are music to his ears. Then she starts to grind against him again, and it becomes really hard to focus on making her feel good because fuck it feels amazing.
He’s lost gain. Lost in her kisses and her hands roaming his chest in feather like touches, lost in the movements of her hips against his, lost in her moans and breathless sighs, in the heat building between them and the deep, coiling sensation rising in his guts.
It’s a familiar sensation obviously, he knows it well, has experienced it multiple times on his own, but it’s also extremely different at the same time, and he’s caught completely off guard when Jemma’s hips start rolling harder against him and suddenly he’s right there, ready to tip over the edge, and he gasps in her mouth, dropping his hands to her hips to stop her movements.
“Fuck.” He’s breathless, his head swimming and his heart pounding, as he desperately tries to calm down. She’s so close to him still, so hot and beautiful and fuck he needs to put some distance between them if he doesn’t want to fucking embarrass himself again. He leans down on his back, letting go of her hips to press his palms hard to his eyelids to try and regain some control. He forces himself through deep breaths, fingers trembling, and he thinks he’s done it but then she moves her hips just a little, which sends a zing of pleasure through his entire body, and he hisses, terrified to just come right here and there like the fucking idiot he is.
“Fitz I’m sorry I–”
She sounds very worried, and this very easily brings him back down to Earth. “Oh no no no, it’s okay I–”he stammers and lets his hands fall back to her thighs, giving her a very apologetic smile. She’s looking at him with obvious concern in her hazel eyes, and he knows she thinks that she did something bad, something that maybe he didn’t like, or maybe that he’s reconsidering the whole thing – how crazy would he be to do that, honestly – so he runs his thumbs against her thighs in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, shaking his head a little. “It’s just, I’m trying so hard not to, not too…” – how can the words be so difficult to say, they’re just words – “not to… come all over myself right now, and, and, well, you’re making it very… hard.”
He’s pretty sure his cheeks are on fire right now, but he thinks it’s worth the adorable smile she gives him in response, paired with her breathless giggle and her very own slightly pink cheeks. She carefully moves off him – he instantly misses her warmth – and lies down next to him, running her fingers across his cheek in an incredibly soft gesture that completely steals his heart. They stare at each other for a little while, catching their breaths, and then she chuckles again, and he raises a questioning eyebrow, curious to know what thought made her laugh.
Her grin instantly turns mischievous, and she tries to bite it down but fails. “Pun intended?” she asks, and he rolls his eyes hard with a loud sigh that makes her laugh again. She pokes him in the side, then moves his arm up so she can snuggle against him and he instantly stops pretending he’s annoyed. “I’m sorry, we can slow down if you want,” she tells him quietly, and he thinks his heart melt a little at the fondness he can hear in her voice.
“It’s just… I mean, I’m just not as uh, as experienced as you, I guess,” he replies sheepishly with a tiny shrug, and he’s kind of glad she’s not looking at him right now because he’s still feeling a little embarrassed despite her being her absolute perfect and understanding self as always.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she whispers, snuggling even closer. “This is all just… very exciting,” she adds with a chuckle, and he grins widely at the ceiling, tightening his arm around her and hoping she understands from the pounding of his heart under her ear that he definitely feels the same way. She drops a small kiss to his chest, just above his nipple, and his skin instantly covers in goosebumps, which she obviously notices. She leans up on her elbow to meet his eyes, biting her lip for a second with a thoughtful look, before shaking her head a little. “I’ll behave, I promise,” she tells him, and he thinks she’s trying to convince herself more than him, which is very cute and also unbearably sexy and makes him want to roll over her and kiss her senseless.
And then something bursts through his chest, something warm and comfortable and all-consuming, almost catching him by surprise, and he barely holds himself back from blurting out the three little words. It’s probably too soon. They’ve barely agreed to start dating. He can’t just say it like that. He has to wait, has to find the perfect moment to do it. He definitely doesn’t want to pressure her into saying it back either. He really wants to tell her how much she means to him though. Maybe he can find another way to express that without using these specific words…
“Jemma… you know you’re my best friend and I, well, it means a lot to me that–”
“I love you too, Fitz.”
Huh.
Well then.
She’s looking at him with fond, caring eyes, still propped on her elbow, and he gapes at her for a minute, wondering stupidly if all of this is just a dream. He can’t believe she said it. She said it. She loves him. She loves him. Jemma Simmons loves Leo Fitz. How can this be real life?
He’s so completely lost in his awed happiness that he doesn’t instantly say it back, and he mentally beats himself up for it when her gaze turns a little unsure and she starts rambling. “I mean, I think we can say it right? We’ve been best friends for two years, and I’m pretty sure that that’s what I’m feeling right now, but obviously you don’t have to say it back if you don’t–”
“God no!” he squeaks, leaning up and grabbing her hand that’d been resting on his stomach, “I mean, yes! Of course, I’m sorry, I mean, I just didn’t want to pressure you into anything, or, or, I don’t know, move too fast–”
“Too fast?” she retorts, chuckling, and yeah, maybe she does have a point, it did take them two entire years to figure out that they were into each other after all.
Bringing her hand to his lips, he drops a soft kiss to her knuckles, eyes fixed in her familiar brown eyes. “I love you Jemma, so much.”
She lets out a delighted chuckle, and then they’re kissing again, soft and slow and sweet, and his heart jumps in his chest for the thousandth time that day. He can’t believe he’s lucky enough that she loves him. He can’t believe he’s lucky enough that this will probably become his every day life. He can’t imagine ever getting used to kissing Jemma Simmons. He’s kissing Jemma Simmons. She’s lying on his bed without a shirt on, kissing him. It doesn’t get much better than this, he’s pretty sure of that.
She’s obviously trying to keep things slow, but after a couple of minutes it kind of becomes obvious that things are not kept slow at all. He’s not entirely sure who’s fault it is, really. The only thing he knows is that her boobs are smooched against his side and that it’s very distracting. Also, his hand moved down to cup her bum again, and her lips are moving sinfully against his, and her tongue is battling his tongue, and yeah that’s not taking things slow at all but he can’t bring himself to feel bad about that in the slightest.
He sets his other hand on her waist, marveling at how soft her skin is, then slowly moves it up until his thumb is edging under the band of her bra, and she shivers and gasps against his lips. He cannot help his grin at her reaction, but then she’s pushing him a little, breaking the kiss off, and he opens his eyes in surprise. She’s staring at him with a slightly accusing look, but he knows she’s not that mad because she’s grinning and her cheeks are flushed and god she’s so beautiful it’s breathtaking really. He’s so fucking lucky. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, because she obviously doesn’t need to tell him anything for him to know what she’s thinking. “For my defense, this really is very exciting.”
“I see that,” she retorts with an obvious side-glance to his crotch, and he feels himself blush.
“That’s not fair, it’s not as obvious for you,” he pretends to whine, expecting her to roll her eyes. She doesn’t. She bites her lip, then leans up a little to drop a trail of kisses along his jaw, making shivers run up and down his spine.
“Oh I’m definitely affected too, believe me,” she whispers in his ear, grinding against his hip, and he gasps, hoping she means what he thinks she means, and also kind of willing to maybe check.
That’s not taking things slow though. Why did they agree on that again? He can’t think of any good reasons anymore.
“Fuck.”
She lets out a chuckle, teasing the lobe of his ear for a second – maybe he moans a little, he’s not sure – before moving away and dropping what very sadly feels like a final, way too short kiss on his lips. He stares up at her in wonder, and his next words come out of his mouth before he even thinks them. “How are we supposed to do anything now?”
She snorts, shaking her head, then nods to his chest. “For starters we should probably put our shirts back on.”
“Oh.” He can’t help it. Can’t help his little pout and the definite disappointment in his voice. Can’t help looking down at where her breasts are still very flatteringly pressed against his side. He thinks it’s only fair, because he didn’t get that good a look at them anyway, since they were too busy snogging each other before. Do boyfriends have breasts privilege of any kind? He really hopes so. He really knows squat about all this. He’s pretty sure she’s going to be delighted to teach him all that stuff. Boyfriend stuff, and also lover stuff. Are they lovers now? Oh wow what has his life become?
So. fucking. lucky.
He’s still staring adoringly at her breasts, definitely not willing to stop just now, and she chuckles after a minute, resting her head on his shoulder. “Silly Fitz,” she tuts, but she sounds a little breathless, and he wonders how affected she really is by his attention. Jemma Simmons is horny for him, and that’s honestly the single most exhilarating thing in the entire world right now. He did that. She wants him, she loves him, she’s willing to let him stare at her boobs, how fucking perfect is that?
“Hmm?” he vaguely says, pretending not to have noticed she talked, and she laughs again, nudging him lightly, and he thinks things could not be more perfect than they are right now.
“So, about that date?”
Ah, maybe he’s wrong after all. Maybe things are going to get better and better with each passing second he spends with her. Jemma Simmons loves him. She wants him, she wants to go on a date with him, she wants him to be her boyfriend, she wants all this and more. He’s almost entirely sure she wants to have sex with him, despite the fact that he knows nothing about all this and is probably going to end up embarrassing himself when they get to that part. He already almost did though, and she didn’t seem annoyed by it at all. Experimentally speaking, he knows he just probably needs a lot of practice to get better at it. Which definitely sounds like a very good thing. Hopefully she’s okay to practice with him. Trial and error and all that.
Oh wow, maybe that could be his new personal side project, now that he’s not trying to figure out if she likes him using his own wonky enactment of the scientific method. Sounds like a great project. He’s always been a fast learner, and he’s pretty sure she’s going to be an amazing teacher. If she wants to, that is. He’s pretty sure she does.
He’s going to ask her, this time. He’s learned his lesson now. Communication is the key.
He thinks he just needs to find a better way to ask her than ‘hey, do you wanna teach me how to become super good at making you come?’
He’s got time for that. First, he’s going to take her out on a date. A real, proper one. In a fancy restaurant, with flowers, and both of them all dressed up and stuff. And there will probably be more kissing. Hopefully. He’s very on board with the kissing.
Kissing Jemma Simmons.
This is all very exciting.
Fin