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It wasn't meant to happen like this.
The first time she had done this had been years ago, on one of the very, very, very few evenings that Fitz accompanied her to the Boiler Room. Jemma had coaxed him out, reminding him that, despite the overly sweaty and crowded atmosphere, there was junk food of all kinds down there (and she promised not to judge him too hard tonight if he came with her).
Fitz knew that there must have been some ulterior reason for her dragging him down there that night. She didn't normally go down to the Boiler Room incredibly often in the first place, which was a telling sign, and even when she did go she didn't usually put up such a fight for him to join her. But because he respected her, he wouldn't ask about it.
They arrived to the crowded room not much later, Fitz immediately feeling out of place. He felt himself quickly becoming dependent on being able to see Simmons' long brown hair swaying not far in front of him, her highlights barely visible due to the lack of true light.
"Simmons, slow down, will you?" he complained.
"Ugh Fitz," she groaned in response, Fitz knowing she rolled her eyes without seeing them himself, "just come on."
She reached back and grabbed his hand, tugging him along with her. Fitz felt a warmth throughout his entire arm, chalking it up to his body catching up with the rest of the humid atmosphere.
Or something like that.
When she finally stopped, Simmons looked around furiously, darting her eyes from corner to corner.
"Simmons," Fitz called.
She didn't look in his direction.
"Simmons," he tried again.
She made a dismissive sound, acknowledging that she heard him but not responding.
"Simmons, you look like you're fixing to stage a coup in this damn place right now," he commented.
"Oh hush you!"
"Simmons you promised me food and I'm hungry. Let's get some food and you can figure out where to attack later."
She turned to look at him, eyes squinted and full of irritation and lips pressed together, "get yourself some food then!"
"Well you forced me to come down here to this God-forsaken gathering of heathens in the first place!"
"Ugh Fitz. God forbid I want you to socialize for once! My God I'm sorry for being so terrible to you!"
"Oh you're one to talk about socializing Simmons! What with your constant 'oh sorry Fitz, I have an exam next week and I can't pass up an utterly thrilling reading on the value of topoisomerase in DNA replication,'" Fitz retorted, using a terribly high-pitched English voice.
"Oh Fitz you know I don't sound like that," she scoffed.
"Regardless of if you do or not, I am hungry and getting food with or without you," he threatened.
"I guess you'll be eating alone then," she huffed, thoroughly frustrated.
Fitz stood still for an awkwardly long amount of time, in shock of Simmons' dismissal. Sure, they were used to bickering like this all the time, but it was usually in jest. Or at least they could come to an agreement at the end of it and then completely forget it happened and be the best of friends again. But something was obviously up with her. She acted genuinely upset, a side of her that never seemed to be aimed directly at him in the past.
He began to retreat, not really wanting any of the greasy, sodium-ridden, American bar food.
It really wasn't until he got back to his bunk when he realized how completely tired he was. And hungry. Scrounging around his dorm, Fitz eventually found some protein snacks and juice to keep him awake for a few hours. After all, if he wasn't going to tease Simmons he was at least going to build something.
His building, however, was cut short when he fell asleep on his work, Simmons barging in an hour later.
"Simm-Simmons? Wha's happning? Did ya get tired ov da Broiler Broom?" His voice was slurred and slowed from sleeping and the confusion of seeing Simmons in his room. It wasn't as if he were scared, he knew she had a key. He just was not expecting to see her.
He especially didn't expect to see her pacing with her hands knotted together, a nervous habit of hers that he had noticed.
Waking up more fully now, Fitz attempted to get to his feet, unsure of why she was in distress.
"Whoa, whoa Simmons, are you alright?" he asked, voice worried.
"First of all, I apologize for my cold behavior tonight, but you were being unreasonable and I was on an important mission," she started in a rush.
"Oh a mission, were you? Don't tell me you were serious about joining that...oh what did you call it...'journey into mystery'? And don't think-"
"Oh don't act like you weren't interested you...you..." she struggled to find a comeback, "you...pasty man!"
He stopped his arguing, replacing his words with confused looks and sputtering. Once he could form true sentences again, he responded, "well if you've just come here to insult me I've had enough now, thank you. See you in lab tomorrow."
"No! No...Fitz I-" her voice mildly wavered before she stopped talking, "I'm sorry. Okay? I don't...I didn't mean to..."
He watched as she put her head in her hands, massaging her temples. She only did that when she was really stressed, like when a sample didn't have the intended reaction after 16 attempts.
"Hey," he gently took her elbows, "listen, I'm sorry I was being sharp with you."
"No Fitz you were completely justified. I dragged you down there for some stupid experiment and now I've come to your room to make you help me more and-"
"Jemma, you know you have a key for a reason, right?"
She paused, then nodded softly.
"Ok. Good, good," he awkwardly trailed off. Simmons didn't typically break down like this, or ever. Sure she got nervous and tried to hide it, but nothing like this. Not barging into his dorm and pacing and hand-knotting and crying and apologizing and admitting defeat.
"So, if you would like to share with the class," Simmons chuckled at his attempt at levity, "what was your experiment?"
Her face faltered, just slightly enough that Fitz was sure if anyone else had been there they wouldn't have seen it. But Fitz knew all of her mannerisms too well. She stepped back, distancing them after they had become unknowingly close to each other. Simmons began pacing again, obviously pondering how to relay her experiment to him.
That was new. To him, at least. They both always seemed to know what the other one was thinking, never truly needing to worry about the words they used to convey things.
"Fitz, you obviously know some biology, correct? And biochemistry?"
"O'course."
"So you are...familiar with hormones?"
"...yes..."
"And the multitude of circumstances under which different hormones are released?"
"Simmons, are you pregnant?"
She rolled her eyes, "ugh Fitz, of course not."
"Okay, good, continue."
She took a deep breath, "well of course, certain activities and...instances...can lead to the release of a mixture of endorphins as well as serotonin, norepinephrine, dopamine, and oxytocin," she continued.
"Simmons if you're telling me that you lost your virginity, you could just say so. You aren't going to break my poor virgin heart," he interrupted, letting his head fall to his right hand, his thumb and ring finger on either temple.
"Oh Fitz hush, will you?" she whined, frustrated.
"Sorry, sorry, continue," he apologized once more, quickly adding under his breath, "but you didn't say no."
"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," she threw him a stiff glare, "I have noticed that...this biological reaction has occurred to me. Lately, quite a lot actually," she took another pause, making sure he was following her (which of course, he couldn't imagine doing anything else in the moment.)
"But it occurs mostly when looking around those in my," she gulped, looking anywhere but at Fitz's aquamarine eyes, "class at 4:30 on Friday."
He looked up at her, not fully understanding what she was saying.
"Is...is that your...elective class? Which one did you decide on again?"
Slowly, Simmons worked her eyes up to his, "dance."
"Oh, I never took that elective. There's too much...movement. And in front of others no less. I don't care what you say about needing to be prepared for all occurrences. I am not dancing. Ever. A true Scotsman doesn't," he rambled with a false sense of bravado, Simmons hoping he would arrive at something, "so what is it about the class that's got you so hot and bothered?"
She dodged her eyes again, "the other students."
"Who all is in that class? I don't think many other guys take it. And why was this such a big deal? That you've got a crush on some guy in your dance elective?"
She sighed, losing hope that he would arrive at the point by himself, "well, that's just it Fitz."
He furrowed his brow, still not understanding. Of course. Of all the people to become her best friend and most trusted associate and somehow also be the second smartest person at the Academy, Fitz had to be just about the least intelligent person she'd ever met.
"What? You wish I were there instead of whatever symmetrical insubordinate that's captured your attention now?" For some reason, Fitz felt his heart twinge with something comparable to hope.
"My God Fitz, are you that thick?"
"Excuse me?"
"The class is 78.2% female," she hinted one final time.
"And I'm sure it's great to have girls to bond with! What about it?"
"Fitz, I like the girls. The girls are triggering this hormone release, and I know it. However, I wondered if the enclosed space of the class was influencing my emotions. Or maybe a matter of familiarity. Possibly even the type of dancing that we've been doing in the class. The Boiler Room has multitudes of attractive and symmetrical students who dance however provocatively they choose to, and I felt my synapses flood with hormones regardless of whom I watched. I even engaged in some dancing after our...disagreement. With anyone, regardless of sex. I found that I may have even felt it more with some females than males. So my experiment concluded that while I do experience feelings for the male species, I have quite the affinity for the female species as well. And of course I know there's nothing wrong with it, but there's a lot of expectations and I'm not quite sure how to bring it up to possible future partners, and I've not a clue when this started and-"
"Jemma, Jemma stop," Fitz held up his hand, face scrunched up in confusion.
She cut off her spiraling, looking at an awestruck yet confused Fitz.
"So you like girls and guys?"
"Well," she considered, "in a far more colloquial and shortened sense, yes. But there must be a reason behind why this feeling showed up, and when. Maybe I need to visit down there more frequently than I had planned to. Build relationships with people." Simmons had already gone off in her head, updating her mental planner (and reminding herself to update her physical planner when she returned to her room).
"Jemma, this is...these feelings don't...there may not be a specific point you can...you can trace," Fitz stuttered out.
"No, I'm sure there must be. First law of thermodynamics. Nothing is created or destroyed. There must be a source, or a time, or a...a person," she rambled, "and besides I've never been...intimate...with much of anyone, much less a girl. I can't be sure unless we continually go down there to test."
"Jemma, I can't believe I am saying this to you, but you are being absolutely ridiculous," Fitz remarked, astonished at her reaction to her own discovery.
"Excuse me?"
"Simmons, you like guys. You like girls. It doesn't matter when this started or how or who piqued your interest. You feel things, and...and that's ok. There may not be a reason immediately. You of all people should know that feelings and reactions are just action potentials triggered by depolarization in synapses. You're fine," he said, seeming to have lost some of the weight off of his own shoulders.
She stared at him. Hard. Fitz had never been the over-sharing, sentimental type of friend with her. Their relationship consisted mostly of teasing and bickering with each other, with support and care laced in-between, building an impenetrable cinderblock wall around them. She had suspected that he was likely the secretly-romantic type (a thought that always made her stomach do a little flip for some unknown reason). She never thought he could be so...profound and well-spoken in this category of interaction. Especially since outside of her, he never really interacted with anybody.
She moved towards where he was sat down, the chair she bought for the nights she spent in his room tinkering into the wee hours of the morning turned towards her.
"Thank you," she sighed happily, kissing him on the cheek lightly, "and never tell anyone that I just did that."
Quite frankly, she wasn't as nervous about people finding out about her preference. Kissing Fitz's cheek, however...
"Yeah, I'm having a hard time believing it myself," he quipped.
"Oh you are insufferable, aren't you?" she squinted her eyes, trying to suppress her growing, playful smile.
"Oh look at Simmons, breaking out big words like 'insufferable' when words like 'amazing' and 'caring' and 'great' exist."
"Tell that to me next time we are on the same team playing Scrabble."
"We're never on the same team, Simmons. We never play on the same team. We're always competitors."
Simmons grinned widely, "well, I guess I officially play for both teams now, don't I?"
Fitz, of course, didn't understand what she was saying until he looked into her eyes. Her eyes that had grown, in the past few minutes, to be far more hazel, but were laced with teasing mirth.
And then she had to wink.
He flashed her a wide smile, chuckling at her awful attempt to be coy. Obviously he was happy for her, there was no denying that at all. But he was hiding something, and she could tell.
The smile he was giving her now seemed almost held up, forced. It fell far quicker than his true, hearty smiles typically do, and wasn't as strong. His eyes almost change to a lighter shade of blue when he smiles his real, proud, genuine smile. Right now, even in the less-than-stellar light of his dorm, she could tell they were the same shade as when he woke up.
She furrowed her brow, "what is it?"
Knowing better than to play dumb with her, Fitz put his head in his hands for a moment before looking up at her again, "I don't, um, I don't want to steal your moment, or anything," he began sheepishly. He looked at her fully now, taking in the sight of her concerned features and awkwardly half-smiling, "but...I have a reason."
"A reason for what?"
"Knowing...knowing what to say to you. Y'know. To cheer you up. Make you feel less strange about this whole," he gestured vaguely with his hand, "thing. That you just did."
"Did you help someo-" she trailed off.
It took one deep look into his mildly jumpy eyes for her to understand.
"My God," she forcefully closed her eyes, working through the situation, "s-so you-"
"Uh huh"
"-a-and I-"
"Yep"
"d-did we just-"
"Absolutely"
Simmons couldn't help the chortle that escaped her, "we truly must have some sort of psychic connection as everyone posits," she said, hardly able to get out the words as she was laughing so hard.
"Well I'm glad you think this is so funny Jemma. I give you a lovely speech about accepting who you are and whatnot and what do I get? Ridicule. Ridicule and laughter." His attempt to sound angry was wildly derailed by the growing smile on his face and emphasis on her first name.
"Oh hush it you. You know I truthfully was about to launch into a lovely heartfelt sentiment but you know what? When you're insufferable, you don't get such luxuries," she taunted back.
They laughed for a long time after that, Fitz explaining his sexual awakening (Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban as well as a lovely boy in his quantum mechanics course with a strong jawline and a soft smile), Simmons explaining the flutter in her chest that she felt anytime she was paired with a specifically gorgeous caramel-skinned girl with wild hair and dimples while learning the bachata and tango.
Upon reaching a lull in the what had become hysterical laughter, Simmons, looked at the clock Fitz had engineered for himself, realizing that there had been a few hours she had lost in between Fitz's now almost transparent irises and fits of laughter that had ended up with both of them on the floor.
"Oh! I should be going! We've a lab tomorrow, don't we?"
Visibly upset at her getting ready to depart, Fitz got up before she could fully pull herself off the ground.
As she rose, Simmons' actions noticeably slowed, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth as she pondered something.
"It's...it's silly, but I want to do something. Before I leave," she almost whispered, despite being in a room with only her and her most trusted associate with whom she had just shared stories of her own sexual awakening right on the heels of his own tales.
"I'm sure it'll be fine, plus talking with you has just given me a new idea for something," he assured her, "what is it?"
She hesitated, genuinely realizing how much she cared for Fitz, and how he cared for her. Their relationship had always been one of give and take, both of them mutually respecting and building on the other's genius (but, if you asked either of them, they'd probably say that Simmons tended to be the instigator, the leader perhaps of the duo).
And then promptly say not to tell the other they'd said that).
However, it was this moment where she truly realized the care they had for each other. More than just confiding in each other for tales of sexual eye-opening and advice. They respected, supported, and understood each other, knowing what the other was thinking 3000 miles away. Neither of them had ever had that before, much less in someone their age. It was nice.
Realizing his eyes were still on her, waiting, expecting, anticipating something, she stuck her hand out in front of her.
"I'm Jemma Simmons, biochemist," she took a deep breath, softly smiling, "bisexual."
Fitz stood with enlarged yet soft eyes before taking her hand in his own and cracking a slight smile, "Leopold Fitz, engineering," he paused, "bisexual."
She smiled the largest she had since he'd understood dielectric polarization, realizing that they two would be unstoppable together as the biggest brains of SHIELD. Simmons pulled him into a tight hug, savoring it for what felt like hours before lightly kissing right in front of his ear. They pulled back a little, looking into each others' eyes with one final, silent "thank you".
Then they disconnected, and she made her way out the door.
She returned to her dorm room, in a daze fixated on Fitz's irises being the palest and yet somehow most precious and deep and caring and beautiful as she'd ever seen them.
The next week, Fitz asked her to get some tea with him, using the brand new pink, purple, and blue heat sensitive mugs he'd designed.
Yes, that was a moment Jemma Simmons looked back on fondly. Everything had gone according to plan. To her plan.
Of course, none of that plan included eventually realizing that not only was she in love with her best friend and lab partner, but that she would be recruited by Phil Coulson himself and would be on the brink of death many times.
This however, wasn't one of those times.
Everyone was rather content (and tipsy) right now. Mack and Hunter were handing out beers left and right after the successful rescue of an inhuman from Watchdog captivity. There seemed to be more of these lovely times, where everyone could take a deep breath and enjoy the company of those who had become like their second (or, honestly, first) families.
In these moments, conversations varied from day to day. Sometimes they'd go over what went wrong on an op. Sometimes they'd play charades until everyone thought they would vomit from laughing so hard. Sometimes they'd all get plastered and scream songs from their childhood until Coulson came in and scolded them that if they didn't shut up, Talbot would come and visit the place to force them to run military drills.
That usually scared everyone enough to turn the volume down a notch or two.
Today, of course, the choice of stress-relief was getting drunk enough to tell embarrassing stories from the past. So far, it was going great.
Bobbi and Hunter regaled the team with many, many, many far-too-detailed tales of their failed marriage, causing Mack to groan as he lived through them for what was obviously not the first time. Elena spoke of some of her more fun, adventurous, and likely illegal acts from right after she had received her inhuman gift. Even May contributed a story or two of some of her and Coulson's earliest missions together. A lovely, safe, happy bubble was surrounding everyone in the common room. They all knew that any second an alert could pop up that required tac teams on the ground.
But dammit, they deserved some sense of peace, didn't they?
Jemma was feeling happily buzzed, fuzzy after her umpteenth beer (she wanted to remain at least partially sober, but knew she wouldn't be able to resist once the laughter started rolling). Of course, directly to her right was Fitz, also definitely drunk but smiling harder than he had that night in Bucharest when she finally dropped her top.
She could get used to this. No evil space rocks or weird possessive demons or traitorous sons of bitches who toss you out of planes into the ocean. Just peace.
"Oh! Ohohohoh guys, you guys, you GUYS! There was this one time, thisss one, uhhhhh time when I had big hair and I still lived in a van but I rented a room on the Bus because Coulson stole me," Daisy began, slurred and heavily intoxicated yet getting up as if she were about to act out the scene she was painting, "and I remember something happened and then FiZimmons were all like 'oh no Skye!' and I was like 'what happened?' and then Fizt...wait no Fissst...no Fitz, sorry buddy, was like 'oh spank me haggis and put on a kilt, the techno doodad is broken and only I know can fixkx it!'" Daisy was fully acting out this scene now, standing shakily in the center of the room and switching the accent and pitch of her voice for the other characters.
Quite frankly, FitzSimmons themselves had no clue at all what instance Daisy was talking about, but it was nice to see her as happy as she was after losing Lincoln.
After her story of Fitz trying to fix...something had ended, Bobbi rose from her perch on the arm of the chair Hunter was on, "okay, I think it's safe to say that it is now Daisy's bedtime, everyone in favor say aye?"
A resounding "aye" was heard across the room.
"Y'aaaall ssuck," Daisy whined, "wait, wait, wait, just one more story and then I'll let you take me to bed all you want baaaabyyyy." Her voice changed to a horribly failed drunken attempt at seductive, wildly over-wiggling her eyebrows and smirking.
"Whoa there Tigress, I'm an ex-married woman," Bobbi teased back, Hunter raising his hand and nodding in agreement, "but fine. One more story, then to bed with you, alone."
"Okay, okay, there was this one time like...two? No, three years ago when I was on a shhhh secret mission with Jemmin Simmas over there," Jemma snapped her head up at the attempted (emphasis on attempted) mention of her name, "and we were really scared because Jemma shat-wait, no-shot someone on accident while Fitz and...someone else...were out getting an Overkill bomb to save the day because Fitz is a superhero..."
Jemma remembered that day. Her failed attempt at flirting with Jasper Sitwell, (or, once he was revealed to be HYDRA, Jasper Shitwell as Daisy called him), ended with her finger on a Night-Night gun trigger and him on the floor, unconscious. She remembered how safe and happy she felt when Fitz returned home to her, safe, and ranting about how he helped save the day. What a strange event it had been, and how strange it was to look back and remember that she almost lost her Fitz.
The first of many separations, she supposed.
"...and then Jemmie just shot him so he would be quiet! It was hysterical, and I remember I was really mad at her for being stupid but I also thought 'wow, she's really pretty when she's stupid, with her big, sciency smarty-pants head and her big ol' bambi eyes and her nice hugs and her stupid bad lying skills, I kinda wanna give her a lil kissy'," she continued, met with hollers and catcalls from the group.
Jemma furrowed her brow. That was not something she remembered from that day. Her and Daisy (or, Skye, she supposed) were always close, especially after that harrowing day when she was swept out of the Bus. She never really remembered seeing Skye...Daisy...whoever look at her differently, or indicate any sort of crush towards her.
Since talking with Fitz, however, Jemma had learned that the only thing she was truly bad at was noticing when others were in love with her.
Before she could stop her slightly intoxicated brain, Jemma opened her mouth, uttering a "you should have."
"Wha-huh?"
No turning back now.
"Did you actually like me like that?"
Daisy looked dumbfounded, "are you kidding? Zhemma I swear to god I almost made out with you right then and there. I had the biggest crush on you. I wanted to kiss your face really hard and I wanted to hold your hand all the time. And I always wanted to hug you, but then I got over it and now you're like my nerdy sssister or something. And zat's cool! And kinda gross."
Jemma could not believe her ears.
"What? Di'you hate me that much?"
"No! I-" Jemma surveyed the room, realizing that everyone was intently waiting for the end of her sentence. Her face was suddenly on fire, realizing both finishing and not finishing said sentence would end with everyone coming to the same conclusion. Plus, the alcohol gave her a little boost.
"I liked you for a little," she mumbled.
"Whoa-ho-ho-ho wait. You...thought-"
"-I realized that I may have enjoyed your 'bad girl shenanigans' and the fact that you were doing them...I mean, you were no ugly duckling, I can assure you of that Daisy," she explained, "you were kind and gutsy and adventurous and I thought you were fun because of it. You should have and could have kissed me right then and there as you say."
There was a pause. A breath.
Jemma realized what she'd just done. Diverting her attention from a Daisy that had dissolved into confusion and giggles to the remainder of the work family that surrounded her. She turned to Fitz, who offered her a supportive smile and nodded his head in everyone else's direction.
"Well, since I've all but bloody said it so far, I might as well now. I'm," she coughed, violently smoothing out her pants with her increasingly sweaty palms, focusing on them rather than anyone else's eyes, "bisexual."
"So you like girls?" asked Bobbi.
"¿Y hombres?" Elena added.
She took a deep breath, "um...yes. And sí. And I can't believe I'm admitting this, but I had a brief thing for you Bobbi after you rescued me from HYDRA."
Once more, a deafening silence.
"Pshhhft whoa! Me too! Well, just the gay-ish thing nnot Bobbi. No offencing Bobbi, you're still hot." Daisy stumbled her way over to Jemma, forcefully raising her wrist to give her a drunken and awfully-aimed high five.
"None taken."
"So," asked Daisy, "how long have you known for?"
And just like that, the tension building in Jemma's body dissipated. The eyes watching her from angles all around the room no longer felt intense or judgmental, but listening, caring. After stealing another look at Fitz's love-filled eyes, she gained the courage to open up.
"Oh Fitz knows this one! How long have I known Dr. Fitz?"
"Oh Jemma you know just as well as I do that I pieced it together before you had. You wanted to conduct an experiment over the entire second semester of the year-"
"-not the entire second semester you drama queen-"
"-regardless, who conducts an experiment-"
"-well excuse me for being thorough unlike you-"
"ANYWAY," Hunter interrupted, making a "get on with it" movement with his hand.
"Uh, yeah, Jemma came into my room after she forced me to socialize-"
Mack chuckled, "yeah, God forbid she make you socialize."
Fitz squinted his eyes at Mack, as if trying to bore a hole through his head, "anyway, she tried to conduct an experiment at an Academy Boiler Room party and was being insufferable," Jemma violently rolled her eyes at him, "and we went back to my room and talked things through and..." he trailed off, obviously thinking about something.
"...and then I helped her understand her feelings...because I was having them too."
Jemma's head snapped towards him, her eyes blown wide.
"I'm bisexual too."
The room filled with stunned silence.
"Pfft," Jemma scoffed overdramtically, "you couldn't let me win this one? You had to tell everyone now too?"
"You say that as if you don't win everything else between us!"
"I don't! Remember that one time you built a better toaster than the one we shared that I bought in our last year together at SciOps?"
"Jemma, did you just win...by saying you didn't win once?" Mack questioned, in awe of the scientists.
"I guess I did!" she retorted jokingly, "besides, my winning never got in the middle of our relationship!"
Jemma's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes flinging open wider than they ever had as Fitz slowly moved his hand to massage at his temples.
"Well you might as well just say that too, just so there isn't any confusion among everyone," Fitz sighed.
Jemma gulped. Between the revelation that was just made and this one, she should not be this anxious.
"Oh! Ok...well...um. Fitz, uh, this Fitz to the right of me right now, although he is my lab partner and associate first and we would not allow any...union...to derail our professional relationship may happen to be, you know, as a duo, um..."
"Dating?"
"¿Enamorados?"
"Together?"
"Ffffuckin'?"
"How did...how did you all-" she began, dumbfounded at the certainty of everybody in the room, especially Elena who had only been around intermittently.
"You guys have been undressing each other with your eyes for months," Mack commented, taking a sip of his beer, "and you probably did that with your hands in Bucharest."
"You have had the eyes for each other for years. Daisy considered betting on it back on the Bus," May deadpanned, cracking the beginnings of a smile.
"I did! Oh!" she gasped, "AC owes me money!"
Daisy paused, realizing all that had just happened in the span of however long it'd been. Time was lost on her and she was starting to get sleepy from the alcohol.
"Ssso so wait," Daisy mumbled, "not only did FitzSimmons come out right now, they came out right now. On accident. Sscientists're stupidy heads."
The room once more descended into laughter, many tears being shed from the intensity of the joy.
The next morning, as everyone recovered from their hangovers, many of the laughs from the past night returned. When Jemma woke in Fitz's arms, memories of laughter until crying and supportive smiles flooding into her brain like a train car, she thought that maybe, for once, she didn't need to have a complete plan for everything, per se.
And one day, a week later, when she and Fitz entered the common room to hear *NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye" (to which Hunter explained that it was to be interpreted as "Bi Bi Bi"), with pink, purple, and blue streamers and a banner that screamed in sparkly letters "WE'RE PROUD OF YOU DUMBASS BISEXUAL LOVEBIRDS" (Daisy chose what it said), Jemma couldn't help but break her face into the largest grin ever and kiss Fitz soundly on the lips, joining the party.
Yeah. Maybe it wasn't meant to happen like this. But it did.
And it was magnificent.