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“We’re going to die of old age on this road, you know that, right?”
Jemma glanced at Fitz, who sat with his arms crossed in front of his chest. But his grumpy demeanor couldn’t faze her excitement over their weekend getaway. “Oh, shush,” she countered, unable to hide a smile. “I’m driving the speed limit exactly. Plus, we’re almost there.”
She turned onto the road to the B&B, enjoying the soft breeze coming in through the half-open windows and admiring the picturesque landscape. Through the corner of her eye she saw Fitz leaning sideways to look out of the car window at the scenery as well.
“Oh no!” he suddenly mumbled, sliding up the windows and pushing the button on the center console to set the ventilation to inside air.
Jemma furrowed her brow. “What?”
“What???” Fitz barked in apparent disbelief. “The trees!”
Jemma looked at the rows of trees lining the road. “Yes, they’re quite lovely.”
“Oh yes, very lovely,” Fitz said sarcastically. “Lush? And green? And blooming? Aren’t they?”
“Yes,” Jemma replied, a bit peeved and louder than maybe strictly necessary as she tried not to lose focus on the road.
“How long have you known me?”
His question, laced with irritated annoyance, caused Jemma to pause. Suddenly it dawned on her. “Oh,” she muttered quietly.
“Exactly: Oh,” he parrotted her before running his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots. “God. They’re not supposed to bloom yet. Why. Why why why?”
“Well, the weather has been rather lovely lately.”
Fitz crossed his arms in front of his chest, squinting angrily at the trees flying by. “Bloody climate change.”
“Well, didn’t you bring—?” Jemma tried to ask calmly.
“No. No, I didn’t,” Fitz interrupted her. “I didn’t think of it because these bloody trees shouldn’t bloom for weeks!”
“Well, we could try to find—”
“Everything around here will be closed by now, Jemma,” Fitz anticipated her suggestion. “And the closest on-call pharmacy is probably in Glasgow. That’s hours away. Because that’s where we just came from—hours ago.”
Jemma sighed as she stopped in front of the beautiful B&B cottage. “Well, we’re here. Let’s settle in and figure out our next steps.”
“Welcome, Mr. Fitz, Miss Simmons,” the friendly concierge greeted them. “Did you have a good drive here?”
“Long. Long, and slow, and green,” Fitz muttered under his breath.
“Oh, a fellow Scotsman,” the woman behind the reception exclaimed excitedly.
But Fitz only mumbled an acknowledging “M-hm” in return.
“If I may ask a question,” Jemma attempted to focus the woman’s attention on herself.
“Margerie,” the concierge replied with a beaming smile that Jemma tried to reciprocate.
“Margerie. Thank you. I—” Jemma cleared her throat. “I was just wondering, is there a pharmacy close by that would be open still, or maybe tomorrow?”
“Oh, I’m afraid not, love,” Margerie replied, slumping her shoulders. “Opening hours aren’t as convenient here in the countryside. Glasgow’s probably the closet.”
“Told you so,” Fitz muttered under his breath, at the same time Margerie asked, full of concern, “Is something wrong?”
“It’s just—allergies,” Jemma replied, scrunching her nose. “We didn’t expect it to be quite this green yet this time of year.”
Margerie bobbed her head. “Oh, yes, we’ve been surprised by that, too. The weather has just been wonderful.”
“Bloody climate change,” Fitz repeated his previous complaint. “Maybe Donnie was on to something with his—”
Jemma quickly elbowed him, while addressing their host. “Well, I’m sure we’ll manage. Thank you, Margerie.”
“Oh, of course, my dear.” Margerie slid two sets of keys across the counter. “Now, here are your room keys. Room number 7. Lucky 7,” she added with a wink. “Straight up the stairs. We do offer room service, so don’t hesitate to give us a ring if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Margerie. It sounds delightful,” Jemma replied, before hooking her arm around Fitz’s to gently drag him along to the stairs.
Jemma stepped into their room, her face lighting up at the sight. “Oh, Fitz, look how lovely—”
She stopped when Fitz pushed past her, dropping their bags on the floor and rushing to the en suite bathroom, returning a split second later with a towel that he then pressed against the window seam.
“Fitz?” Jemma asked, careful and slightly confused.
Fitz gestured out the window, his back to Jemma. “There’s one of those bloody trees right outside our window.”
Jemma tried to suppress a chuckle. “I think the window will be perfectly capable on its own of keeping the pollen out.”
She slumped her shoulders when Fitz turned around, staring at her with red-rimmed and slightly swollen eyes.
“Oh my.” Jemma walked up to him, carefully cupping his face and gently touching the skin below his eyes. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you have any issues with your spring allergies. I think I forgot how hard they hit you when you don’t have your medications,” she apologized, as he looked pitifully back at her.
Jemma scanned the room, before her eyes landed on the bed. She grabbed Fitz by the elbow, gently pulling him in that direction. “Here, why don’t you lie down? I’ll grab a wet washcloth from the bathroom, and we’ll try to get the swelling and itching down.”
“Feeling any better?” Jemma asked, lying on her side next to Fitz, her fingers combing through his soft curls.
“This is not how this weekend was supposed to go,” Fitz whined, his eyes hidden under the wet washcloth, his hands gesturing in the air. “We’re supposed to go for walks, and for a picnic, and relax, and go antiquing, and now I can’t go out ‘cause of my bloody allergies.”
“You hate going antiquing,” Jemma replied, trying to ease his disappointment.
Fitz lifted the washcloth off his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows. “Yes, but you like it, and I like seeing you excited about old rubbish like that.”
“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma pursed her lips, touched by his sweet words. She sat up, crossing her legs. “Look, I’ll drive to Glasgow first thing tomorrow and get you your meds, and then we can—”
“And spend half the day apart?” Fitz asked wide-eyed. “The whole point of this weekend was—God. We’ve planned it for months! Our first real vacation in—And just a weekend. And now?” He let himself fall backwards in disappointment, covering his eyes with the washcloth again and letting out a loud groan.
Jemma paused for a moment, sighing heavily, before a smile spread across her face. “Well, you know, there are things we could do inside,” she remarked suggestively.
Fitz chuckled weakly. “Not for the whole weekend.”
Jemma couldn’t help but grin. She shifted her position, climbing over Fitz to straddle his hips, before leaning down to softly kiss him. “Hmmm. How do we know if we don’t try? Where is your sense of scientific adventure?”
Fitz lifted the washcloth covering his eyes, peeking at her with amused curiosity. “You wanna shag for the entire weekend?”
“Are you seriously telling me you object to that suggestion?” Jemma breathed against his lips, rolling her hips forward and enjoying the soft moan that escaped him, his eyes closing at the intoxicating sensation.
She chuckled when Fitz pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her eagerly. “Mmmm. Maybe I could be persuaded,” he said, looking at her with hungry love, his fingers trailing up and down her spine.
Jemma cupped his face, looking deep into his eyes. “How are your allergy symptoms?”
His lips pulled into a wide smile. “I’ll do my best to power through,” he replied, raspily, before sealing her lips with a kiss.
Jemma opened her eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the daylight coming in through the window. They’d never bothered to draw the curtains—too busy at work on their physically exhausting yet wonderfully satisfying science project. Fitz lay on his stomach, one arm dangling over the edge of the mattress. His hair was disheveled, and Jemma fought the urge to comb her fingers through the soft curls. She smiled reflexively at the sight, before scooting out of bed, fishing for her panties and Fitz’s shirt on the floor. She tiptoed to the bathroom to relieve her bladder.
When she returned to the main room, the sounds from outside drew her to the window, and what she saw caused her to chuckle in excitement.
“Fitz, it’s raining,” she exclaimed, forgetting for a moment that he was still asleep.
His body stirred and a deep groan echoed from where his face was buried in the pillow.
Jemma turned to look at him. “You always said your symptoms are better when it rains. I know going for a walk in the rain isn’t quite what we had in mind, but it could be quite nice if we dress appropriately. Or we could go antiquing after all.”
Fitz turned around, letting his arms fall onto the mattress, before rubbing his face vigorously with both hands and pushing himself up to sitting. He eyed Jemma with a stern grumpiness that nonetheless didn’t seem quite serious.
Jemma shrugged slightly. “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.”
Fitz scoffed in amusement. He got out of bed, pulling the comforter off the mattress and wrapping it around his shoulders as he walked to where Jemma stood by the window. He hugged her from behind, the blanket engulfing them both in comfortable warmth.
“Mmm, I don’t know,” he whispered right next to her ear, his breath sending a shiver down Jemma’s spine. Somehow he managed to free one of his hands without losing the blanket, pulling her hair back and nipping her neck gently. “What about the experiment we started yesterday? Where’s your sense of scientific adventure?”
Jemma craned her neck further, closing her eyes at the intoxicating sensation of Fitz’s gentle kisses against her sensitive skin. “I suppose it wouldn’t be prudent to abandon an ongoing experiment.”
Fitz chuckled against the spot where her neck met her shoulder. “All data gathered would be completely useless.”
Jemma turned around in his embrace, sliding her arms up his naked torso, losing herself in the blue of his irises. “It would be downright irresponsible.”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” he hummed, grinning triumphantly, before leaning closer and sealing her lips in a passionate kiss.
Jemma’s stomach churned as their tongues danced together, the blanket dropping to the ground to allow their hands to roam each other’s bodies, until a loud rumble interrupted their foreplay. Fitz stared at his midsection in embarrassment, while Jemma couldn’t help but laugh.
“I suppose we skipped dinner last night,” she remarked, pressing her hand against Fitz’s cheek.
Fitz raised his eyebrows. “In the traditional sense: yes. Sure did.”
Jemma traced Fitz’s jawline with her fingers, looking at him suggestively. “Margerie did mention that they offer room service.”
“Breakfast in bed?” Fitz asked excitedly, his lips pulling into a wide smile.
“Sounds wonderfully decadent, doesn’t it?”
“How about you call down and order us something.” Fitz pressed a quick kiss to her lips, before ticking his head to the side. “I need to use the loo.”
Jemma scrunched her nose, lifting her shoulders. “Sounds like a perfect plan.”
She let go of him, turning around to search for the menu.
“Oh, and order some champagne,” Fitz remarked, rummaging through his bag on the ground, presumably to look for his toiletry kit.
Jemma’s head spun around in surprise. “Really? But you don’t like the bubblies.”
He grinned back at her. “I think today I do.”
Jemma smiled widely. “Well, alright then.” She grabbed the menu from the table, studying the breakfast options, while Fitz disappeared into the bathroom.
She wandered over to the little writing desk, grabbing the phone to call down to reception to order the food.
“The Claymore. How may I help you?” the receptionist answered, an older gentleman this time rather than Margerie.
“Good morning,” Jemma greeted him. “Room 7 here. I’d like to order breakfast to our room.”
“Of course. What would you like?”
“Could we get the Royal Breakfast for two, please?” Jemma asked, her finger pointing at the entry on the menu. “It includes champagne, if I see that correctly?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Excellent.” Jemma couldn’t help but smile. “We’ll take that then.”
“Two Royal Breakfast. Wonderful. It should be done in about 15 minutes.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” Jemma hung up the phone and wandered to the round little dining table. She sat down and reached for a brochure in the center of the table, starting to flip through it.
“He said it’ll be 15 minutes,” she called over her shoulder.
“Okay, great,” Fitz’s muffled voice replied through the closed door.
Jemma looked up from her reading material when she heard the bathroom door open a few moments later. She furrowed her brow when she saw Fitz dressed in slacks and a button-up. “I thought we had decided today’s activities would not require clothing.”
Fitz chuckled nervously. “Yeah, but—um—seemed weird to do this naked.”
Jemma scoffed in amusement. “Eat breakfast?” she asked, slightly confused.
“No, um, this.” Fitz lifted his right hand, revealing a small jewelry box.
“Fitz,” Jemma gasped, his name escaping her like a faint breath.
Fitz wandered closer, still holding up the small box. “I wanted to do this at a picnic, outside, with the trees not blooming, but my bloody allergies threw a wrench into it. But maybe it doesn’t matter where. Maybe it just matters that I finally—” He exhaled sharply, nervousness shimmering in his eyes, as he went down on one knee, the hand holding the jewelry box trembling slightly. “We’ve known each other for just about half our lives now, and I count myself lucky that you tolerate my grumpy bum—as this weekend has proven once again. We’ve been through hell and back. More than once. But I think it’s clear that no matter how far we may be separated physically, we’re never really apart, and our bond cannot be broken. Now maybe all of this is unnecessary. Maybe we don’t need rings or vows or any of that, but—but I want it. I want us. I want to call you my wife, and I’d be honored to be called your husband. I want to marry you, and grow old with you, and so—” Another nervous chuckle escaped him, as he opened the box. “Jemma Anne Simmons, will you marry me?”
Tears shot to Jemma’s eyes at the sight of the simple diamond ring sparkling at her almost as brightly as Fitz’s loving, blue irises. “Yes,” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding off the chair so they both knelt on the ground. She buried her face in the nook of his shoulder, crying happily against the fabric of his shirt, before cupping his face, peppering his lips with kisses that eventually turned more passionate until the need for air became too great.
Fitz wiped away the tears in his own eyes, before taking Jemma’s left hand in his, sliding the engagement ring onto her ring finger. Jemma marveled at the jewel before looking back at her fiancé, unable to keep from smiling, her happy expression mirroring Fitz’s.
“Promise me one thing?” Fitz asked, still holding Jemma’s hand in his.
“What’s that?” Jemma replied quietly.
“A 100% allergy-free wedding.”
Jemma laughed out loud. “A winter wonderland then?” she suggested, wide-eyed.
“Well, I don’t want to freeze my bum off,” Fitz replied in pretend grumpiness.
Jemma pursed her lips. “Summer beach wedding?”
“Too hot.”
Jemma couldn’t help but laugh even more.. “Well, I’m sure together we’ll find a solution.”
“I’m sure we will,” Fitz replied raspily, tucking a strand of Jemma’s hair behind her ear, curling his fingers around the back of her neck, and gazing at her with love and adoration before leaning closer to seal their engagement with another kiss.