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It’s a mild day in spring.
They’re taking a walk in the park, enjoying the seemingly endless sparetime after finished exams, when Jemma asks the question out of the blue.
“Fitz?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to share a flat with me? In the US, I mean.”
Fitz abruptly stops and turns to look at her, burying his hands deep in the pockets of his cardigan. “You want me to be your roommate?” He asks puzzled.
Jemma nods and smiles carefully. “I thought it would be nice. Being close to each other. When we ... when we know no one else there.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Fitz doesn’t tell her that he has been thinking about asking the same question for quite a while now. He isn't exactly scared about flying to the US and studying at this big important SHIELD academy, just a little bit nervous. He has never been so far away from home before. And the thought of living all alone in a foreign room is what bothers him the most. His stomach is cramping when he thinks about this. The thing is, the thought of searching a roommate, someone he doesn’t know, is even scarier and when he started to ask himself, if Simmons would consider sharing a flat with him, he wasn’t exactly sure how to ask her.
But now there’s it. The question. And the answer is as clear as day.
He smiles at Jemma. “I would like that. Being your roommate.”
She beams at him. Her hazel eyes sparkle in the sunlight. “Great!”
*
Time is a strange thing.
Of course Fitz thinks anyway that it doesn’t exist. Not in the way other people think about it. Still, before their flight to the US, time seems to prolong until the days take forever. Hours pass by so slow-moving, like a chewing gum that stays solid in your mouth for ages. It’s like that until the last few days. Then, time seems to try to win a race against them.
Suddenly, Fitz is packing his suitcase and feels strange, like he’s living a dream that’s going to end soon. He’s going to wake up in his bed, hearing his mother singing downstairs while she’s making scrambled egg with bacon. It’s going to be a normal day.
But when his mother hugs him and tells him to take care of himself, her eyes teary and her voice trembling a bit, he realizes he’s about to change everything and for a moment, he wants to hold on to this, to his mother, to his life.
The moment is gone, when the doorbell rings and Fitz knows it’s Jemma, with her own suitcase.
His mother lets go off him and smiles, laying a hand on his cheek. “Go now, Leo. I know you’re going to be great.”
Saying goodbye has never been so difficult. Or painful.
When he opens the door downstairs, Jemma is standing there, smiling. “Are you ready?”
Fitz nods and closes the door behind him. “As ready as I can be.”
~
Time jumps and they’re standing in the little flat, their suitcases around them, Jemma carrying a heap of books in her arms that’s so high, she can barely look over it.
“This is so exciting!” She chirps and Fitz chuckles, taking the books from her carefully, to place them on the little table in the room.
“Yeah. It really is exciting,” He murmurs. A bit too much, maybe.
He still feels lightheaded from the flight earlier. It has been his first time flying and he’s not sure he wants to repeat this specific experience. Too many loud people, too many noises he couldn't match with any images, too much everything. Not to speak of the pressure on his ears every now and then.
But Jemma has been great.
She has been a source of calmness right beside him. She even held his hand for a while, stroking her thumb over his skin. It was quite soothing. When the plane finally had started to land, Fitz even managed to look out of the window at the city lights underneath them, feeling something like careful awe. But still. Not an experience he absolutely needs to repeat.
Now they finally arrived at their flat and don’t exactly know what to do first.
It feels a bit awkward.
Finally, Jemma clears her throat, grabbing the handle of her suitcase. “We should clarify which room is whose,” she suggests.
“Alright,” Fitz says relieved. “You can pick.”
*
The room isn’t very big, but that’s not a problem.
It actually reminds Fitz a bit of his room at home in Scotland and he already starts to feel a telling ache in his chest. Homesickness.
Get yourself together, he tells himself sternly, folding his clothes before putting them into the drawer beside his bed. You have been craving this for so long. It’s just going to take a little while to ... adjust.
Fitz sighs and doesn’t hear Jemma entering the room, until she's standing right behind him and makes a noise. He flinches and drops the tie he was folding.
“Oh, sorry,” Jemma says and crouches down, picking up the tie to hand it back to him. “Are you alright?”
Fitz nods. “Yeah. Just a little bit overwhelmed.”
“I’m too. This is a lot.” She lays a hand on his shoulder. “I brought my Doctor Who collection.”
Fitz smiles. “That’s good news.”
“I think I’m going to call my parents. To tell them we arrived. You can call your mother too.”
“Yeah. As soon as I’m finished with this,” Fitz says, nodding.
When he phones his mother later, he realizes how far away she is now, and it almost seems surreal. They have never been separated by an ocean.
She tells him to not worry about her and to enjoy his studies. And not to get into any trouble.
As if I would even get the opportunity, he thinks and smiles, while pressing the phone to his ear, assuring her he wouldn't do anything stupid.
When they say goodbye, neither of them really want to cut the connection.
When he finally did it, he stares at the phone and sighs.
Jemma comes into the room, with a bowl in her hands. It’s filled with cut fresh fruit. She sees his face and gently takes the phone from him, to put it away. “Doctor Who?” She asks softly.
Fitz nods. “Yeah. Doctor Who.”
They sit on the couch beside each other and watch, sharing the fruits.
It’s a bit usualness in all the unfamiliarity.
~
They get used to everything way more quickly than Fitz had previously imagined.
Soon there’s a routine again.
A pattern.
The academy swallows most of their life. It’s exactly what they have been wanting for so long. Finally, they can focus on the things they’re good in. Finally, there’s challenge instead of boredom and wishful thinking.
Soon they are buried under books and papers.
There’s not much time left for anything beside lazy movie or tv show marathon evenings now and then. Or they spend their evening in their rooms, Fitz playing Computer Games with some of his online friends from all over the world, while Jemma’s reading or watching documentaries on her laptop.
One time, when Fitz is trying not to die in a stressful hide and seek with some snipers, while his friend Liam from Britain shouts at him over the headphone mic, Jemma walks in to ask him if he wants to have some of her salad, only to discover, that he’s surrounded by three packs of crisps in different flavours.
She wrinkles her nose. “Ugh Fitz. How can you do this to your body!”
Fitz shrugs. “It isn’t complaining, Simmons," he says and throws another handful crisps into his mouth, when he is finally shot and Liam yells ‘Damn it Fitz!’ He's eager to win because they are playing against some of his online arch-enemies.
“Well. Not yet,” Jemma says dryly, placing a plate with some apple slices on his desk.
She leaves with a head-shaking.
“Thanks!” Fitz yells after her and hears Liam chuckling. He takes one of the apple slices, feeling warm inside because she thought of him while cutting them.
“Is that your girlfriend, mate?” Liam asks, after a few silent moments.
Fitz almost chokes on the apple slice and coughs. “What? No. That’s my roommate. Simmons.” The next moment he thinks he maybe shouldn’t talk so loud …
“Ah. Your roommate.” Liam chuckles again. “You’re sure?”
Fitz feels his face heatening up for some reason. “Yes,” he says pointedly. “I’m entirely sure.”
“Okay, mate. Okay. Please don’t die this time. I want to win this round. Or these losers are going to make fun of us on discord forever.”
“I’m trying …”
But now he can’t concentrate anymore.
Is that your girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Well now, that’s ridiculous.
And still … the thought alone, the idea of it, makes his stomach feel funny.
He dies again and goes offline after apologizing to Liam, who seems close to sob in frustration. “Wasn’t my day,” Fitz tells him. “I have to go to bed.”
In the bathroom, he finds Jemma, brushing her teeth.
She smiles at him and a bit toothpaste drips on her t-shirt. She doesn’t notice.
Fitz smiles back. She looks adorable, he thinks. With her loose pyjama pants and the slippers with bunny ears. Her cousin gifted them to her, she’s told him once.
He takes out his own toothbrush and asks himself, what it would like to be, to go on a date with her.
Weird. Totally weird.
Because they’re not like that.
No. Definitely not.
*
It’s almost winter.
The days are getting colder.
Once, Jemma comes into Fitz’s room, when he’s laying on the bed, reading a book about engineering for an exam that’s written so complicatedly he actually has to read the sentences twice from time to time. She goes right to his drawer, opens it and stares inside.
Fitz frowns and looks at her. “Simmons?”
“Can I borrow some of your socks? Mine are not exactly warm. And I’ve seen yours. They look really fuzzy,” she explains calmly, while already rummaging in the drawer he has his socks and underwear in.
Fitz flushes. “Why are you even asking,” he notes grudgingly. “You’re already messing up my order!”
“Order?” Jemma asks. “I can’t see an order. This is a mess. Really Fitz, you should me let organize your clothes. It would look nice. Nicer than this,” she mumbles.
Fitz groans. “No. No, no, no. I know exactly where everything is. And I don’t want it to be different. Stop!”
He gets up, pushing her away from his drawer. “Here,” he hands her a pair of woolen socks and she beams at him.
“Thanks! But, Fitz, consider it. I could find a great system for your clothes, with letters and …”
“This isn’t the lab, Simmons. It’s my drawer!”
It isn’t the only time she wants to borrow his clothes.
She also borrows sweaters. And pyjamas. Fitz lets her. Even when he has to wear things longer than he likes because she has his other clothes. But there’s something about seeing her in his clothes, that makes him feel all giddy and warm inside.
So he lets her.
It’s just another thing they can share.
Once, when they’re sitting on the couch, watching an animal docu while eating pizza – Jemma eats her with pineapple on it and Fitz playfully groans every time she takes another slice, which leads to a light punch against his shoulder and his remark about how pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, immediately countered with Jemma’s answer that he should stop mixing crisps with honey then – she says, “Your sweater. It smells good.”
Fitz chuckles. “Well. It’s mine. So you’re basically saying I’m smelling good.”
“You do.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You’re smelling good, too.”
“I’m glad. It would be unfortunate if we live with each other, thinking that the other one is smelling like a skunk and never saying anything because we don’t want to make things uncomfortable.”
“Skunks are great actually,” Fitz points out. “They’re cute and fluffy but can defend themselves nevertheless.”
“They stink!”
“Not all the time.”
Jemma grins mischievously. “Oooh I see, you feel connected to them, don’t you? Because you stink, but not all the time.”
Fitz makes a face. “I never stink," he says offended.
“Well. Sometimes, when you’re sitting on your computer playing games for like ten hours nonstop … Or do you feel connected to them because they eat everything they find on their way?”
Fitz pinches her and she squeals, pinching him back.
The whole thing escalates into a pinching war.
When they finally are able to breathe again, Fitz says, “It would be great to have a pet. A monkey …”
“Monkeys aren’t pets, Fitz!”
“ … or a skunk. Or a ferret!”
“Oh Fitz. I think most people start with dogs. Or cats.”
They look at each other and grin.
After a moment, Jemma leans towards him, laying her head on his shoulder. “You know,” she says softly. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
“I’m glad too,” he says, impulsively laying a hand on Jemma’s.
It feels like the right thing to do.
*
Finals are nearing and Fitz and Jemma are starting to feel a bit terrified.
Most days, they’re studying until late night, keeping each other alert.
On an especially tiring day, they’re in Fitz’s room, reading through page long descriptions.
Jemma is laying on her back on Fitz’s bed, holding her book above her, staring at the letters with slightly glassy eyes, while Fitz is sitting at his desk, his head in his hands because it feels bloody heavy, his gaze wandering over some letters for the third or fourth time.
The only sounds in the room are their breaths and the clicking of the clock telling them how late it is.
Sometime, Fitz groans and rubs his burning eyes. “I have to stop,” he says, turning to face Jemma. “I can’t see the …”
He stops, looking at Jemma puzzled. The book is laying on her chest, her eyes are closed and she’s breathing evenly.
Fitz realizes she just fell asleep. On his bed.
A few moments, he just stares at her face.
It looks so peaceful. And … beautiful. It’s a fact. She is beautiful. Everything about her is. Her body. Her eyes. Her soul and her heart.
Beautiful.
Fitz yawns. He rubs his eyes again. His head is spinning.
He really has to lay down too. There’s no way he’s going to get through this chapter now.
But his bed is already occupied.
“Simmons?” Fitz asks hesitantly.
Jemma rolls on her side and murmurs something that sounds like Five more minutes. The book slips from her chest and Fitz gets up, carefully picking it up and placing it on the drawer instead.
Jemma makes a quiet noise. Then she begins to snore softly.
Fitz grimaces.
Great.
He can’t wake her up. He just can’t. She looks so relaxed. He would feel horrible if she wakes up now, confused and disoriented.
But what is he supposed to do?
He could sleep in Jemma’s bed. But … no. It would be so … different. It would smell and feel differently. He can’t deal with sensory overload right now. He has already needed such a long time to get used to his own bed.
There’s another possible solution. He could join Jemma in his bed.
Fitz’s face heats up.
Jemma wouldn’t mind, would she? They’re friends after all. Best friends. It’s completely normal for friends to share. They share the couch, their food, even their clothes.
So why not the bed too?
She’s going to understand. He’s sure.
Carefully, Fitz lays down on his back beside her, taking care to not touch her. Fortunately, the bed is big enough.
He takes the blanket and covers them both with it.
Fitz closes his eyes experimentally.
Yes. He can do this.
It’s a bit … strange, with Jemma’s added body heat and the noises of her breaths, but it’s not too much.
And he’s dead tired anyway …
He needs to sleep. Now.
This is completely normal, he thinks while falling asleep.
Just sharing a bed with his friend.
*
When Fitz opens his eyes, he looks right at Jemma’s peaceful face.
He freezes.
Wait. Why … Oh. The memories come back. Jemma fell asleep on his bed and he joined her …
Sometime in the night he must have turned around and now he’s facing her. They are … close. Their noses are almost touching.
He can see her freckles up close. And her lashes. There’s a little cut on her nose and Fitz wonders where she’s gotten it from …
Right in this moment, her eyes flutter open.
They are a bit glassy from sleep, but when they focus on his face, they widen in surprise.
“Um. Good morning?” Fitz says, trying a smile.
Jemma blinks repeatedly. And springs into action.
She scrambles away from him, pulling the blanket with her and Fitz, suddenly realizing his early-morning hard-on with a violent hint of embarrassment, grabs the pillow and covers his lower half with it while his face is flushing a bright red.
“What are you doing in my bed?” Jemma squeaks.
Fitz raises his eyebrows. “Actually, this is my bed! In which you fell asleep yesterday.”
“Oh. Oh. But … why … why did you …” She doesn’t seem to find the words she’s searching for and makes an angry sound. “You could have … my bed is free!” She says, looking aside.
Fitz glares at her. “You know exactly, that I don’t do well with improvising such things due to various reasons. My senses would have screamed at me the whole night!”
“Right. Yes. Sorry,” Jemma murmurs, still avoiding his eyes.
Fitz frowns. “You’re acting strange,” he notes.
Jemma throws him an exaggerated look. “I’m acting … Fitz, you can’t do this!”
“Why?”
Jemma opens her mouth – and closes it again.
Fitz is surprised. It’s unusual, that she doesn’t have an answer. Very unusual.
But he isn’t dumb.
She’s obviously upset and he did something that made her feel uncomfortable. Which makes him feel bad.
“Sorry,” he says.
“No. You … you don’t have to be,” Jemma says, wiping a lost strand of hair out of her face. “I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have invaded your private space. You totally can wake me up, if it happens again, Fitz.”
He looks down at his hands playing with the pillow. “Okay,” he murmurs. For some reason, he feels disappointed.
Jemma gets up with a sigh. “I have to use the bathroom,” she murmurs and leaves the room after a volatile glance in his direction.
Fitz frowns.
This is strange.
It shouldn’t be strange.
After all, they were just sharing …
*
To his relieve, Jemma doesn’t act strange for the rest of the day.
They go on with the studying and everyone’s sleeping in their own bed.
Everything’s as usual.
Well, until the night, Jemma has a nightmare.
Fitz wakes up because she’s screaming “No!”
He sits up in bed, frowning.
Jemma …
Maybe he should go and look for her.
Nightmares aren’t pleasant. He has them too from time to time. Mostly about his father screaming or throwing things.
But before he can get out of bed, Jemma already stands in the doorframe, fumbling with her hair.
“Are you alright?” Fitz asks her drowsily.
Jemma inhales deeply. She needs a moment until she gets words out. “Fitz?” She asks softly.
“Yeah?”
“Can I … would it terribly bother you, if I slept in your bed again? Just … today?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Of course not, Simmons.”
She exhales shakily. “Thanks.”
Fitz pulls the blanket back for her and slips closer to the wall, to make place for her.
When she lays down beside him, she asks, “This isn’t weird, is it?”
“Not at all,” Fitz says, pulling the blanket over them. “Do you want to talk about that nightmare?”
“Oh it was silly. Just … I was going home for the holidays but no one was there. And I was searching for them everywhere.” She shudders. “It was just scary.”
Fitz nods. Impulsively, he reaches for her hand under the blanket and takes it, squeezing softly.
Jemma doesn’t flinch back. She squeezes back.
“Thanks for being there,” she murmurs sleepily.
“Always,” Fitz says.
*
Sharing his bed becomes a habit somehow. Just another habit.
And it’s normal after all.
They’re just sharing.
*
Later, they will laugh at how long it took them to get it.
Later.
But for now, Fitz is still hesitating to even consider the possibility.
It’s the most little things that start to make him realize the truth. Like when Jemma puts her head on his shoulder, while they’re watching Doctor Who, her breath tickling his ear. Or when their fingers touch briefly when they’re reaching for the popcorn at the same time. Electric shock. Or when they’re laying in his bed again, Jemma’s head on his chest, her hand near his. Or when they’re laughing at something that’s only funny to them.
Or …
Fitz’s stomach drops.
It hits him with full force.
He’s in love with his roommate. With his best friend. With his soulmate. With Jemma.
Butterflies in his stomach when she’s laughing. Sadness in his heart when she’s not there. Joy in every cell of his body when they’re together, doing what they’re always doing.
He’s in love with his roommate who he always calls Simmons out loud but who always is Jemma in his thoughts in his heart.
And he doesn’t have a single clue what to do about it.
Well. Until Milton happens.
*
Fitz watches Jemma from the door to the lab and scowls without really noticing it himself.
She’s talking to Milton again.
God. Fitz hates Milton.
He has been throwing glances at Jemma for quite a while now. She has never really thrown ones back, but now …
She’s standing there, smiling at Milton who casually flexes his muscles.
Ugh.
Fitz watches how Milton says something and grins.
Jemma laughs. She laughs. She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger.
Bloody hell.
He can’t watch this any longer.
“Simmons!” He calls and she turns surprised. “We have work to do,” Fitz says pointedly, tapping on his watch.
Milton frowns. He doesn’t look happy about the interruption.
Good, Fitz thinks grimly.
“Okay,” Jemma says and nods at Milton. “Bye.”
When they’re walking home, Jemma is very silent. She chews on her lip and there’s an absent look on her face.
“So … you and Milton, yeah?” Fitz asks when he can’t stand the silence anymore and tries to sound casual. Instead, it comes out rather aggressive.
Jemma almost drops the book she’s carrying with her. “What?”
Fitz snorts. “Oh come on. Tell me that wasn’t flirting …”
Jemma shrugs. “Well. He asked me out.”
Fitz feels his stomach drop and his blood seems to boil in his veins. “Oh seriously? You want to go out with Milton? Of all people!” He yells a bit too loud and some women look after them, raising their eyebrows.
Jemma looks at him and frowns. “Milton isn’t that horrible. You just have something against any new people, Fitz. And why does it even bother you? Isn’t it my business who I choose to go on a date with?”
Fitz opens his mouth – and closes it again.
Jemma stops and faces him with a fierce expression in her eyes. “But just so you know, I said no.”
“You said no?” Fitz asks weakly.
Jemma nods curtly. “He’s not my type.”
“Oh. Is he not symmetrical enough?” Fitz asks dryly and knows in that exact same moment, that he fucked up.
Jemma glares at him. “You’re an idiot Leopold. I’ll go to the library now. I forgot a few books. Bye.”
And she storms off, leaving him standing there, looking after her and feeling like an utter idiot.
*
Fitz has to wait for Jemma to come home quite a long time. A long time in which he squirms around on the couch, trying to find the right words for this mess. But the right words would be I'm in love with you and he can't say that because it could destroy what they have here. He doesn't want this to be over.
When she finally enters their flat, he jumps up from the couch and waits until she approaches.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
Jemma looks at him attentively. “For what?”
Fitz swallows. “It isn’t my business who you’re choosing to go out with. You were right. I’m just … I …”
“Yes?” Jemma asks softly.
“I … Oh bloody hell,” Fitz groans. It’s enough. He can’t do this anymore. “It's not about Milton. It's about me. And you. I was angry, alright. I was angry because … I wanted to be the one you choose to go on a date with,” he blurts out, his heart thumping wild and loud in his chest.
Jemma’s eyes widen. “Really?” She asks quietly.
“Really. I’m …” He wants to say I’m sorry once more, but he can’t because Jemma aprubtly crosses the distance between them and the next moment their mouths crash together and they’re kissing desperately. It’s quick and impatient. Their hands wander over each other’s backs, searching, finding. They gasp into each other’s mouths and just can’t let go off each other. Their world is reduced to this moment. He's overwhelmed but at the same time not, because Jemma's familiar warmth and scent is all around him and it feels so right, so perfect, he never wants to do anything else but this.
When they finally separate, they are breathless.
“You’re an idiot,” Jemma says dryly. „But it’s alright. Because I’m one too. When I was talking to Milton? To be honest I was trying to make you jealous.” She flushes.
Fitz freezes. "Really?"
"Really. But only a bit!"
“Oh wow. You know, we should definitely talk about this,” Fitz suggests dryly.
“Hm. After I kissed you again,” Jemma says, laying a hand on his cheek. “I liked this.”
“Me too …”
This time, the kiss is almost painfully slow. This time, they’re exploring each other from inside out. And it produces a heady feeling of arousal. Somehow, they end up on Fitz’s bed again, their arms wrapped around each other, while they’re snuggling.
“Why exactly did it take us so long to do something about the elephant in the room?” Jemma asks sometime, sounding drowsy.
“I don’t know,” Fitz says, stroking her back. “Apparently that elephant had to kick us first to get our attention.”
She laughs and kisses him again.
And again.
It becomes another habit.
One they could never get tired from.