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“Girl’s Night? What do you need a Girl’s Night for?” Fitz squeaked, near livid. He was following Jemma around the lab like she was swinging him around on a leash, careening and bumping into her. She did her best to ignore him as she tried to finish up her work. She had slipped her evening plans into the conversation in the hope that he would just absently assent, not realizing what she’d said until she’d left already.
She had been wrong, clearly.
“It’s not a big deal, Fitz,” she said, looking through her microscope to hide her eyes. He didn’t notice that the light wasn’t on, nor was there anything on the slide for her to look at. He continued raving.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit…?”
“A bit what?”
“Silly?”
Jemma sighed and straightened up. “Fitz, a Girl’s Night is an important female bonding ritual, and I wouldn’t want to miss out on this watershed moment in my budding friendship with Skye.” She paused for a moment. “Plus it was her idea.”
Fitz didn’t care. “I bet Coulson says no,” he says, folding his arms with a huff.
Jemma gave him a glare. He tried not to quake in his boots. “I honestly doubt Coulson cares what we do when we’re off duty.”
“What are you doing that I don’t care about?” said Coulson, walking in with perfect timing and startling the shit out of everyone, as he was prone to do.
“We’re going clubbing!” Skye said cheerfully, walking in a step behind him.
Coulson pivoted to look back at her, eyebrow cocked. He gave her a stern look, then turned to give the same look to Jemma. He sighed. “Make good choices.” And he left.
“That went better than I expected!” Skye beamed. She walked further in the lab, rested her arms on the counter next to the microscope Jemma was hiding in again. “So are you excited?”
“Yes, I am.” And she meant that genuinely. It wasn’t that Jemma spent too much time with Fitz. She could never spend too much time with him. She just knew she didn’t spend enough time with other people, girls specifically. She had never been good at having friends that were girls. Or having friends in general.
“I’m not excited,” Fitz griped.
“Trust me, Fitz, you don’t want to be one of the girls,” Skye said.
“I know that, thanks,” he snipped. “I just don’t get why—”
“You don’t have to get it.”
“Are you even a little bit worried about the danger?” He asked, gesticulating rampantly.
“The danger?” Skye snorted. “We see more dangerous things on the Bus! We’re probably safer in a public, highly populated place.”
“Well, don’t you think—” he started, but Skye placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Give up, Fitz. It’s happening. I’m borrowing Simmons for a night of fun…girl stuff. For girls.”
With a huff she grabbed Simmons by the wrist and toted her out of the lab. Jemma spared a small wave as they passed by.
No, Fitz was not happy about this. At all.
Jemma flopped down on Skye’s bed. Skye clucked wordlessly, scrolling through her iPod for some getting ready tunes. She chose something Jemma didn’t recognize, with a strong beat, and then started flipping through the hangers in her tiny closet.
“I don’t really have much club wear,” Skye frowned.
She side-eyed Jemma. “You remember I was living out of a van, right?”
“Right,” she responded, pursing her lips.
Skye hummed for a minute, searching again.
"Ah! What about this?”
Skye held up a hanger with a short, black, one-shoulder dress. Jemma was sure it would look lovely on Skye. She nodded pleasantly.
Skye tossed the dress on to the bed, avoiding Jemma’s head narrowly, and then grabbed her friend’s hand again, pulling her up. “Now it’s your turn!” She didn’t bother turning the music off, they could hear it two steps away in Simmon’s room anyway.
Impossibly, they ran into Ward before they made it to her door.
“What are you two doing?” he said, ever-suspicious.
“We’re going out tonight,” Skye said defiantly. Jemma rolled her eyes. She could never understand their unique brand of flirting.
“By yourselves?”
“We asked May, but she just sort of growled at us, so…” Skye said with a shrug.
“It’s a girl’s night,” Jemma said.
“Is this really the time for that?” Ward said, crossing his arms.
“We’re docked; we’ll be in New York for two days. I need to see something that isn’t the inside of the Bus or a dead person,” Skye moaned.
“As your SO, I do not approve of this, but also I don’t care. Just don’t do anything stupid.” He walked away.
“The men on this Bus give such good advice,” Jemma said, side-eyeing Skye. Skye smirked, and they went into Jemma’s room.
“Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Jemma let Skye rifle through her clothes. Usually an intrusion like that would send her into a spiral, but she and Skye had come to an understanding. You wouldn’t think it by looking at them, but Jemma and Skye were quite alike. They both had their one thing, their focus, and were passionate about it and more than competent in it. They both liked things tidy; Jemma because it was in her nature, Skye because she had learned to be that way. And they both were starved for friendship, which made them loyal and fiercely protective.
Jemma let their similarities buoy her happiness, and sat patiently until Skye picked.
“Here!” Skye pulled out a sweet little red dress she’d had for a long time.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!” Skye tossed the dress onto her friend’s face and then bounced on her bed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m surprised you even have clothes like this,” Skye said.
“I like to be prepared,” she replied.
“I know,” Skye smiled.
The club was packed, although they didn’t have to wait in line for very long. It was named something pretentious that Skye immediately forgot after they made their way in and stopped cold in shock.
“Is this normal, for it to be this...insane?” Jemma shouted above the din, eyeing the thrumming crowd. Skye looked to her in confusion.
“I have no idea,” she shouted back.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never done this,” Skye said
“What? Really?”
Skye shook her head. “Haven’t you?”
“No. When I was at uni I was too young,” she responded
“Did you think I do this?” Skye asked. “Go out and stuff, I mean?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you suggested it? And also because you’re much cooler than me.”
“I am not, Simmons,” she said, giving her friend a look. “And I only suggested it because I thought that’s what normal girls do.”
“It is, I think,” Simmons responded, nodding like she was summarizing some data. “But I’m not really a normal girl.”
“Me neither,” Skye said, and they shared a smile.
“Well, since we’re here?” Simmons said, canting her head towards the bar.
Skye grinned. “Why not?”
It turned out Simmons could drink.
Like, really drink.
Skye could hold her own, at least, she thought she could; she had grown up a little too fast and hurriedly acquainted herself with liquors of all kinds.
But Simmons? Simmons was amazing.
She didn’t look like much of a drinker, but Skye watched as she not only matched her shot for shot but surpassed her and did an extra two. Then when she tried to order them beers she hassled the bartender for not having any standard British imports, going on about flavor and hops and stuff, and Skye just watched in amazement for a while before ordering them two martinis and letting the poor bartender go.
“I do love a good gin, though,” Simmons said pleasantly, and Skye could do nothing but laugh.
“How are you such a drinker?”
Simmons gave her the most disparaging look she was capable, so strong that Skye could feel the derision coming off of her in waves. “I’m English.”
And apparently that was explanation enough.
Once the drinks hit, they started to dance. Neither of them was particularly skilled, but they were enthusiastic.
After a while they went to the toilets, Skye leading Jemma by the hand through the crowd, anxious with the sudden and desperate urge to pee.
They seemed to have come at a lull, because it was only half full and only mildly disgusting. Skye beelined for a stall while Jemma slumped against on the sinks. She huffed contentedly, and then noticed herself in the mirror.
“Oh god, Skye, I’m a mess already,” she called to her, running fingers over her cheeks and through her hair to try and right herself into a presentable state.
“Ugh, dude, I know, I’m sweating so much; it’s disgusting,” Skye said as she emerged. She washed her hands quickly. “This is fun, though,” she remarked.
“It is!” Simmons keened happily. “It is fun! We’re fun!”
“We are fun!” Skye affirmed, catching her enthusiasm.
They hugged joyously.
“Shall we?” Jemma said, pulling away.
“Hell yeah.”
They didn’t get far.
“Hey, nice bracelet,” a guy (a guy who was hanging out by the women’s bathroom in the dimly-lit back hallway of a club) said, canting his head toward the security cuff Coulson saddled her with.
Skye grimaced. “Thanks.”
Before they could get away, the man reached forward and grabbed her wrist. She didn’t even have time to give him the stink-eye before he had crushed the bracelet in his hand and pulled a gun on her.
Jemma, who was drunk as all hell by this point, tried to shriek, but another hand snaked around her mouth. Skye’s eyes went wide as people started to emerge from the darkness of the hallway.
They were surrounded.
“Fu-uck.”
The holocom beeped noncommittally, and Skye’s picture blipped onto the screen.
No one was around to see. Fitz was fuming away in the lab, much later than he would be if Simmon’s were here, but he seemed too anxious to retire. Coulson was in his office, doing whatever he did. May was doing her pre-bed work out.
There was no one around to notice. Except Ward.
Ward wasn’t staring blankly at the holocom, at a loss for what to do. He was watching the holocom and considering what to do with his night.
And then Skye’s picture popped up. CUFF SIGNAL LOST>>>.
Eyeing the message, he grabbed his communicator. “Fitz, come up here.”
Fitz was there within moments. He looked at the message blankly for a moment before turning to Ward. “Well, that’s not good, is it?”
“Can you get the signal back?”
“Yes, assuming the bracelet is still functional.”
He went up to one of the screens and starting tapping on it a lot, which Ward assumed was Fitz working is techy magic.
“I can’t find it. It last registered at a building on 9th and 48th.” He turned to Ward. “What if they’re in trouble?”
“It’s probably just a malfunction,” Ward said, not really believing himself. He squinted at Skye’s picture.
“We should probably go to address and make sure,” Fitz suggested, faux-innocently.
Ward pretended to think about it. “Yeah, we should go.”
The drive wasn’t that long, but they were blindfolded so Skye wasn’t sure where they ended up. The next time they saw light was when the sacks were ripped off their heads. A warehouse. Typical.
Two burly men bound their hands and feet.
“Hey, so not that I mind being kidnapped, but do you guys plan on telling us why we’re here?” Skye snapped at them, with as much sass as she could muster.
They grunted and left.
As soon as the door was shut, Simmons started talking.
“Skye, I am too drunk to be kidnapped right now,” she said very seriously, eyes wide.
“Yeah, this blows.”
“Do you think they’re going to dump us over the pier?”
“The pier?”
“I paid attention while they were driving,” she says. “We only went a few blocks, three west and one or two north. We’re somewhere around 12th Avenue and 50th street.”
Skye’s mouth hung open, like a very impressed fish. “Damn.”
“Oh, we’re near the Sea, Air, and Space Museum! Oh, Skye! Do you think we could go?”
“We’re a little busy right now, Simmons.”
“Obviously not right now, but later maybe?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Skye said. “First we need to find a way out of here.
“You could break your wrist, like May does,” Jemma offered.
Skye gave her a look. “Haven’t exactly gotten to that part of my training.”
Jemma shrugged.
Skye started tugging at her bindings, and Jemma followed suit. They wouldn’t budge.
“That’s not very cooperative,” Jemma said.
“No, it is not.”
The room was quite large, lit by a few bare bulbs. The concrete was stained in a way that did not bode well for them.
“There’s no way these are normal kidnappers, right?” Jemma asked, as though she was hoping for run-of-the-mill felons.
“No way,” Skye affirms. “He crushed the bracelet, which means he recognized the tech and knew we could be tracked by it.”
“Which means nobody knows we’re here,” Simmons said.
“Yup.”
“Wonderful.”
“We’re a little bit underdressed, don’t you think?” Fitz yells over the crowd.
Ward gives him a look. “Let’s split up and do a sweep.”
Fitz nods. “I’ll check the bar. If I know Jemma she’s either there or about to be there,” he said lovingly. Ward rolled his eyes.
He made a loop around the dance floor, eyeing the people against the wall and hoping they weren’t in the middle of the throng. Then he headed down the back hallway.
He almost missed it. Both bathrooms were clear, but as he was leaving he stepped on it.
The bracelet was literally cracked down the seam, crushed into a few pieces, wires exposed. Ward snatched the pieces up and made his way to the bar.
Ward made it to the bar as Fitz was talking to the bartender. “Has a British girl, about yea-high, with sunshine hair and big eyes argued with you about beer yet tonight?”
Ward tried not to roll his eyes again.
“Uh, yeah,” the guy said.
“When was that?” Ward jumped in.
“I don’t know man, like a couple hours ago?”
The bartender was then distracted by a customer. Ward grabbed Fitz’s arm. “Look,” he said, and showed him the hand full of shattered tech.
Surprisingly, Fitz did not panic. “So either Skye smashed her bracelet…”
“Or someone forcibly removed it,” Ward finished.
“Ah, don’t worry. I have something that can help us.” Fitz pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up an app that Ward didn’t recognize.
After a minute, Ward realized what it was.
“You put a tracker in Simmons?!”
Ward wasn’t sure if he was impressed or disturbed.
“I know it’s weird and invasive but it’s proving to be useful right now, so let’s not discuss it, okay?” Fitz said shrilly.
“...Alright.”
“Okay, what would Ward do?”
“Yell at us, probably,” Simmons muttered.
“There’s one door, no windows. If they tied us up, the door probably isn’t locked.”
“Even if it is unlocked, we can’t scoot to freedom; we have to get untied first.”
“We have to get them to come back in here and untie us,” Skye said suddenly. “Oh god, Jemma, we have to lie.”
Jemma gulped.
It only took about a minute of furious shrieking for one of the burly guys to come back. This time he was puffing a cigar. Maybe they were just normal kidnappers, because Skye thought that seemed pretty amateur.
“Oy, oy,” he yelled, “Calm down.”
The two girls fell silent.
“I need to pee,” Jemma simpered, fussing in her chair.
“Tough shit,” the guy said.
“I drank so much, you have to take me to the bathroom. Pleeeease?” she whined.
He gave Jemma a long, bored stare. “Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. He leaned over to untie her feet. “Whiny bitches…”
“Ugh, first of all, that’s really rude,” Skye pouted, leaning on her drunkenness, “and second of all it is totally unfair if you let her go and not me!”
“You’re just jealous!” Jemma taunted, standing now, although her arms were still bound.
“I am not jealous!” Skye shrieked back.
The guy turned to Skye, arms spread wide as though that would prevent another argument. “Jesus christ, alright,” he groaned, “you can come too.” He leaned down to untie Skye’s hands. Skye watched as Jemma picked up the now empty chair with her bound hands and raise it over her head.
“Manscaping,” Skye said as soon as she was completely untied, and Jemma swung the chair down onto the man’s head before he could give her a what the fuck face. There was a wicked thud and he fell back, unconscious.
“Don’t panic,” Skye said automatically, stepping over his body to start untying Simmons’s hands.
“I’m not panicking,” she said, a sense of awe in her voice. “That felt good.”
“Glad you think so,” Skye said, dashing the rope from her friend’s wrists, “Because we have to run now.”
Jemma stepped out of her heels and took on in each hand, brandishing them like weapons. Skye fished around in her bra for her phone, and then snapped a picture of the unconscious asshole.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
Skye opened the door slowly. They were at the end of a long hallway, which meant there was only one way to go.
“The coast is clear,” Skye whispered. Simmons nodded emphatically.
Skye started to move slowly down the hallway, but her heels were making a bit of noise, so she followed Jemma’s suit and slipped them off. Quickly they padded down the length of the hallway. When they got to the end, Skye led them left, which was definitely the wrong way to go because after a moment’s travel a guard came around the corner and noticed them.
“Shit, go go go go go!” Skye shrieked, pushing Simmons back the way they’d come and down the other hallway. They could hear the guard yelling to someone, “The SHIELD agents, they’ve escaped! They’re heading towards the exit!”
Skye was just about to cheer with excitement that somehow she was able to intuit the location of the exit on the first (second) try, but then the fire doors came into view.
Along with Goon #2.
But before Skye could even think to do anything, Simmons launched at him and stabbed the heel of her shoe into his eye in one of the most disgusting displays of violence Skye had witnessed since joining SHIELD. He reeled back in pain.
Skye was momentarily shocked into stagnancy so Jemma stuffed the non-weaponized shoe under her arm and grabbed Skye’s hand, pushing the door open and pulling them to freedom.
They both broke into a sprint, nearly too focused on escaping to notice as they passed Ward and Fitz, who were jogging toward the commotion.
Both girls skidded to a stop to stare at them, but before they could get indignant the door burst open and the guard launched out.
“Run!” Simmons shrieked, and the group of them broke into a sprint once again.
Of course, Ward had to do his Agent thing where he turned around mid-run to shoot the first guard in the shoulder - a quality Skye did not find attractive at all - but bad guys started to pour out of the building, so they kept running. They went a few blocks inland, before Ward sprinted ahead and led them around the corner to a back alley behind a shawarma place.
“What the fuck,” Skye gasped, “are you,” wheezed, “doing here?”
“Saving you,” is what Ward choked out.
“We don’t,” Jemma breathed, “need you.”
“Apparently,” Fitz coughed, “you do.”
Each of them leaned back against the brick and tried to calm their breathing.
“What happened?” Ward asked when they had recovered a bit.
Skye shot a look to Jemma. “Nothing,” she said petulantly.
Ward turned to her co-conspirator, eyebrow raised. “It was just a minor kidnapping,” Simmons reasoned. “We handled it.”
“How did you even find us?” Skye asked.
This time it was Ward’s turn to shoot a look at Fitz.
"Your bracelet registers your location—”
“The bracelet was disabled. How did you follow us to the warehouse?”
They stayed silent.
“Ward—” Skye started, but he gave up relatively easily.
“Fitz put a tracker in Simmons.”
Skye’s mouth dropped open, but Simmons just let out a little coo. “Aww.”
Skye and Ward exchanged glances.
“It’s alright, Fitz. I put a tracker in you ages ago,” she said, a little dreamily.
Fitz frowned. “You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”
“That I am, Dr. Fitzy. It makes our escape even more brilliant.”
“How did you escape?” Ward asked.
“We leaned on our kidnappers’ misogynistic expectations of us and manipulated them to our advantage,” Jemma says simply, preening.
“It’s what Black Widow would’ve done,” Skye finished, feeling superior.
Ward kept his mouth shut. Black Widow wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped in the first place. But he was proud of them for neither panicking nor dying.
“Ooh, did you bring the SUV?” Jemma asked suddenly.
“Yeah, why?”
“I need an evidence bag.”
“Why?”
“My shoes have organic matter on them.”
Neither Fitz nor Ward knew what that meant, but Skye started talking instantly. “Oh my god, Agent Jemma Simmons, I need to tell you that that was the most brilliant and disgusting thing I have ever seen.”
“Thank you,” Simmons cooed, taking a large and unsteady bow.
“What happened?” Fitz asked tensely.
“Simmons stabbed a guy in the eyeball with her heel!” Skye said excitedly.
There was a moment of silence before Fitz’s head started to explode.
“When did you get so bloody violent?”
“Oh, relax, Fitz, I had to! He was blocking the door!”
“She was great,” Skye said, “I totally froze.” Skye thought for a moment. “Actually, you basically did all of the violent stuff, today. I didn’t even get to punch anyone.”
“Oh, but it was all your brilliant plan, Skye!” Jemma assured.
“Yeah, but you even took out the first guy.”
“Oh yeah, I also hit a man over the head with a chair,” Jemma remembered cheerily.
Fitz looked like he might be sick.
Skye sunk into the passenger seat. The total darkness and warm safety of it reminded her of home. The whole walk back to the car had been Ward leading, literally on the lookout for more kidnappers, with Skye next to him dutifully, while Fitz and Simmons trailed behind, arguing loudly.
“I’m just worried—”
“I know you are, but—”
“I don’t like the idea of you in danger—”
“I wasn’t in danger, really, I was with Skye—”
“Skye barely has more training than you do. No offense,” he called forward.
Skye waved her hand behind her vaguely in forgiveness.
“It all turned out fine…”
And it went on like that for a while.
“God,” Simmons said from the backseat. “I am starving. Can we stop for pizza?”
“No,” Ward said curtly.
“I’ll make you a grilled cheese when we get home,” Fitz offered.
“Aww, Fitz! Yay!” Simmons cheered, as though that was the sweetest deal she’d ever gotten.
Skye peeked into the rearview mirror to see Simmons, goofy smile on her face, sort of caressing and poking and prodding Fitz’s cheeks. Instead of annoyance, Fitz was giggling a little, indulging her.
It was too adorable to intrude on, so she looked away.
Ward was focused on the road, but she punched his arm, anyway. “Thanks for coming to save us. Even though, as very capable SHIELD agents, we didn’t need any help.”
He took his eyes off the road for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he replied, and he smiled his dumb smile.
After a moment he spoke again, eyes back on the road. “You look nice.”
“For being kidnapped?”
“Just in general.”
She tried not to take pleasure. “A compliment and a smile,” she murmured. His dumb smile grew.
By the time they made it back, the whole group was pretty fatigued. Ward turned off the engine, and they sat there for a moment. Skye turned to the back seat, and Ward followed suit.
She stuck her hand out. “Blood oath, guys: nobody tell Coulson.”
They all piled their hands on and nodded solemnly, and then climbed out of the car. Fitz hurried around the car to catch Simmons as she stumbled out, taking the evidence bag with her shoes in it from her.
“Ready?” He asked.
She shook her head, then turned and went barreling into Skye for a crushing hug. Skye didn’t hesitate to return it, squeezing tightly.
“I love you!” Jemma cooed.
“I love you,” Skye said back, ridiculously, unquantifiably glad.
Jemma wiggled happily, and Skye laughed. “Are you still drunk?” she whispered.
“No, I’m mostly pretending so Fitz will make me grilled cheese and cuddle me,” Jemma whispered back matter-of-factly. Skye just laughed.
“We can do this again, right?” Skye asked, and her voice came out a little more desperate than she’d intended. “I mean, without the kidnapping.”
“Absolutely,” and Jemma pulled back and smiled. She squeezed her friend’s hands, then darted off to Fitz, who had gone into the lab to leave the evidence bag and was climbing the stairs to the kitchen. Skye watched her follow him up, and then turned to Ward, who apparently had been watching the whole time. She quirked her eyebrow at him, and he had the decency to look embarrassed.
They started to walk towards the stairs. “That’s nice,” he started. “That you guys are becoming better friends, I mean.”
“Yeah,” she said, ignoring his inherent lameness in favor of being genuine. “I like having friends.”
He smiled. When they got to the top of the stairs, she punched his arm awkwardly.
She was about to squeak out a good night and scurry away when Fitz and Simmons came bounding out of the kitchen.
“I thought of something,” Fitz said.
“What?”
“How are you going to explain where the bracelet went?”
Skye looked from his eyes to Jemma’s to Ward’s.
“...Fuck.”