Work Text:
Skye’s secretly a pretty jealous, greedy person. The constant shuffling from foster home to foster home did its best to beat those traits out of her (not usually literally), but they flare up if she thinks she might have found someone who actually cares about her. And Jemma definitely fits that bill. Skye might play like she doesn’t care when others are looking, but the reality is that if she had her way, she’d want to have all of Jemma to herself.
Of course, that’s impractical, and slightly creepy, so Skye tries to ignore that impulse.
The strange thing, considering that jealous streak, is that she doesn’t mind Jemma’s closeness with Fitz at all.
Maybe it’s knowing that he’s asexual and neither of them have romantic or sexual interest in the other, but it’s also the way they are together, the little looks and half-sentences and gestures that they’d probably only communicate in if it were just the two of them. And the way one behaves when they’re unwillingly without the other, like they don’t know how to function properly. Skye doesn’t believe in soulmates, that’s just crap made up for Hallmark cards and Disney movies, but even she has to admit that FitzSimmons are about as close to the concept as she can imagine. And what jackass could possibly be mad about honest-to-god soulmates?
So that’s why she devises the plan to rescue Fitz and Ward, really. Because she can’t stand seeing Jemma limping about looking as if someone’s shot her puppy right in front of her, and Skye would personally board the rocket to move the stars if Jemma wanted them moved.
(And, okay, maybe she cares about Ward a little too. He might have an entire tree up his ass but he’s really trying to help her, she knows, and he’s a good agent and a good man. She’s almost come to think of him as a dumb big brother she picks on and sometimes flirts with, although on second thought those two concepts should never be put together. But that’s how she feels.)
And it’s probably just as well May stepped in to help them, because god, she loves Jemma so much but the girl is the worst at subtle undercover work. Skye had a feeling it would go badly from the moment she realized Jemma would have to be the one looking at the Level 8 files, but it couldn’t be helped. She really does feel bad that Jemma was forced to shoot Sitwell, though. Jemma’s like a little baby kitten who hasn’t learned how to kill things yet, and she’s still innocent enough to be slightly scarred from the experience. Besides, Sitwell seems like one of the more reasonable suits and he probably didn’t deserve to get hit with the night-night gun.
All in all, Skye’s very interested in making sure Jemma’s never forced to make that kind of choice again.
“Let’s do some roleplay,” she suggests while they’re hanging out in Jemma’s room a few nights after the incident.
Jemma’s neck snaps up from the science magazine she’s reading, her eyes wide. “Now? It’s a bit early for that, don’t you think, darling? I mean I suppose I’m not opposed to it, but…”
“No, doofus, I don’t mean that kind of roleplay.” Skye smirks. “We need to work on your flirting skills.”
If it’s possible, Jemma looks even more embarrassed. “I don’t know…”
“Jem.” Skye takes her hand and looks her right in the eyes. “I love you, but you are really goddamn bad at keeping your cool. I don’t want you to have to shoot someone the next time we break into a restricted area.” She ignores Jemma’s noise of protest (probably at the assumption that they’d be doing anything like that again) and continues, “You need to learn how to roll with the punches, even if you’re just in a bar and some dude hits on you. And I’d like to think I’m pretty good at flirting, so who better to teach you than me?”
Jemma’s still frowning. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have sex instead?”
“Only if you’re a good girl,” replies Skye, loving the whimper that falls from Jemma’s lips.
---
Even after three glasses of wine, Jemma’s still so terrible at this that Skye admits defeat.
“I’m sorry,” says Jemma, looking at her with sad kitten eyes. “I was honestly trying. I’m just…no good at rolling with the punches, as you say. Never have been.”
“I know.” Skye sighs. She can’t really be frustrated with Jemma, especially not when Jemma’s obviously so disappointed in herself. “But at least you get that weird comments about people’s heads are off-limits, right? If you can admit that, I’ll feel like I got through on at least the important points.” She smiles so Jemma knows she’s really not mad.
Jemma chuckles. “I do, yes. I just panicked, that time. Also Sitwell’s not really my cup of tea, you understand, that didn’t help.”
“Yeah, but you can’t even flirt with me and I clearly am your cup of tea, so that’s not much of an excuse.” Skye winks.
Snorting, Jemma rolls her eyes. “Yes, but who is in whose room? On whose bed?”
Skye can’t really argue with that, so she decides to distract Jemma by kissing her instead. Judging by the way Jemma moans and clumsily grabs Skye’s shoulders to pull her closer (alcohol makes Jemma lose control of her limbs just enough to make her as graceless as the average person, which Skye finds both hilarious and adorable), it seems to have worked.