Chapter Text
“Fitz? Oh thank God, you’re awake.”
He opened his eyes to see Jemma leaning over him, gloved hands hovering just above his skin. Coulson was kneeling on his other side, in the process of putting on his own gloves.
Fitz scooted backwards, and stood up, only a little unsteady on his feet. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” Coulson replied.
“It’s been less than a minute – we only had time to get gloves and come back when you started to wake up. How do you feel?” Jemma put one gloved hand on his forehead and he let her examine him, still too woozy to object.
“You were sort of glowing.” Coulson had also stood up but was keeping his distance, warily eyeing the syringe where it dropped.
“Glowing?”
“Like a much dimmer version of that flash that happens when you revive the fruit. Or people,” Jemma added, as an afterthought.
Fitz blinked his eyes, backed rapidly away from her, and practically ran into the kitchen. He reached one of the shelves where they kept the rotten fruit and shoved his hand into a basket of decomposing raspberries. Nothing happened. He tried the blueberries and apricots, and had a handful of mealy strawberries when Jemma and Coulson rounded the corner to the pantry, puzzled by his sudden, vaguely maniacal laughter.
Jemma only had to glance down at the moldering fruit in his hand to understand. “You’re cured?”
“Yes,” he answered breathlessly before dropping the fruit, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and pressing his lips firmly to hers – no barrier required. His hands were sticky, and stained red, and he was still shaking a little from the antiserum coursing through his body, but when Jemma opened her mouth just enough to slide her tongue over his bottom lip, Fitz would’ve sworn that this was the best moment of his entire, ridiculous life.
Coulson cleared his throat behind them, startling Jemma enough to break away but Fitz refused to be embarrassed now. After finally having everything it felt like he’d ever wanted, he couldn’t stand to let her go, so he kept his arms around her waist and pressed his forehead gently against her temple while she turned towards Coulson.
“I’m going to start cleaning out your apartment. I’ll let the others know it worked and that we’ll be on our way soon.”
Fitz heard Coulson’s black loafers clip sharply on the kitchen tile but didn’t turn to see him leave. Instead, he wrapped his arms more fully around Jemma and dipped his face to nuzzle at the sensitive skin just behind her ear, wondering how he’d never really noticed before what she smelled liked or that she got goosebumps when he breathed against her skin. Her chuckle reverberated through him, and she smoothed her fingers through his hair, gently combing through the curls.
“Fitz,” she murmured.
“No.”
“We have work to do.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I’m not moving.”
She huffed indignantly. “If you don’t let me go, I’m going to tell everyone about your newfound fondness for latex gloves.”
“Hey,” Fitz spluttered, his arms loosening enough in his surprise that Jemma could slip away. “That was your idea!” She reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek, and then trotted into the kitchen.
“You can go help Coulson pack up the lab supplies in the apartment, I’ll finish down here.” Fitz nodded his assent, but Jemma spoke again before he reached the stairway door. “Hey.” He turned around; she was wiping berry juice off of her arms and smiling. “Ready to be going home? To be doing proper science again?"
Fitz chuckled and his eyes landed on another crate full of rotting fruit. “I have had more than enough of studying the scientific properties of pie-making and dead-waking, thank you very much. I’m ready for something normal.”
Jemma laughed, and picked up Sleepy from his daytime post behind the pie bar. “Like stealth weapons delivery mechanisms and drone engineering?”
“Exactly.” He watched her disappear into the cleaning closet where she kept her field kit and notes on Fitz’s health, and then he took a last look around the pie shop. In some small way he was going to miss this place, if only because it had felt something like their own private island, where for nine whole days the only thing that had mattered was the two of them. Fitz grinned and shook his head, opening the door to the upstairs, and reminded himself that this couldn’t possibly be considered an ending.
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“So your first kiss was through plastic wrap.” Skye shifted over to make room for Fitz at the counter, and tossed popcorn into her mouth. “Way to work around your superpower.”
“Well, not my first kiss, but with–”
She rolled her eyes. “First kiss with Simmons, yeah, stud, I got it.” Skye leaned against the counter, chewing through her grin. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised that the two biggest geeks on the Bus couldn’t get together in a boring way.”
Fitz shook his head at her teasing and reached for the whistling kettle. “Just promise that you won’t tell the others, okay? It’s already awkward enough –” Two arms wrapped snuggly around his waist, and the wool of Jemma’s sweater tickled lightly against his arm.
“You are absolutely the slowest at making tea.” Jemma leaned up to kiss Fitz on the back of his neck and stretched around to grab her mug.
Fitz turned, stirring his own tea. “Skye made me tell her about the first time we, you know–”
“Kissed through saran wrap?” Jemma offered helpfully before sipping gingerly at her steaming drink.
Skye shook her head. “It just seems so weird. I mean, wasn’t it, like, sticky?”
There was a moment of silence, and Jemma slid her eyes over to Fitz. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.” She grinned, and traipsed back to her room. Fitz watched her hips swing slightly as she disappeared into the bunk, and decided that her fitted black slacks were infinitely preferable to the fluffy, girly dresses.
When he glanced back at Skye, her eyebrows were raised almost to her hairline. Fitz shrugged before following in Jemma’s footsteps. “Oh, and Skye–” He walked backwards for a few steps. “If you tell the others, I’ll tell May about that dream you had a few months ago involving you, her, and Lola.” Getting to see Skye redden slightly before he bumped into one of the common room chairs was completely worth it.
“Fitz,” Skye said, stepping towards him while he swiped errant tea drops off his cardigan. “I just wanted to say – I’m really happy for you guys. It’s been a long time coming.”
They smiled at each other for a moment, and Fitz ducked his head. “Cheers, Skye. Thanks.”
Skye raised her mug in a mock-toast. “Now, go get the girl.”
He laughed. “I think she got me first.” Fitz turned into Jemma’s room, where she was curled up on the bed and holding a report from Koenig’s base team.
“Did she say ‘get the girl?’” She asked, wrinkling up her nose, as Fitz scooted around behind her on the bed. “As if. You’d be completely lost without me.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled, reveling in their return to a lack of personal space. “I absolutely would be.” Jemma reached up to kiss him then, and when he trailed his fingers down her neck and she hummed appreciatively, Fitz knew that being loved by Jemma Simmons was better than any superpower he could possibly imagine.