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Jemma pressed a hand to her jaw as she worked through the chemical equations for the new theory she’d been struggling with for the last month. They were complicated, and it required a lot of sustained, undistracted thought for her to keep it all straight in her mind. Which was why she was working on them in the dark, sitting in the living room of her flat.
Her husband had been invited to have a few beers with the guys, and she’d almost pushed him out the door. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Fitz, but any distraction would derail her train of thought. And Fitz padding around the apartment in his boxers counted as a distraction.
On the table, her phone buzzed loudly. She cursed as she lost her place. Snatching it up she frowned when she saw the call was from Mack and not Fitz. She frowned harder when she saw the time was one in the morning.
“Hello?” she answered the phone.
“Jemma?” Mack asked, his words a little slurred.
“Is everything okay?” She could hear what sounded like sobbing in the background.
“Can you come and get your husband?”
Jemma stood, running to shove her feet into a pair of flats. “What happened?”
“Well, there’s a drink special on tonight, oh, we’re at Riley’s Pub, two blocks over. The one with shamrocks on the windows and the green awnings?”
“I know it, but what happened?”
“Ah.” Mack paused. “See, there were these drinks that ended up having a lot more alcohol in them than we thought because they didn’t taste that way. Actually, they were kind of sweet. Defiantly cherry syrup—”
“Mack,” she interrupted.
“Oh, Fitz. Um, he’s had way too much booze, and he went quiet, and then someone said something about you and being married, and he started sobbing.”
“What?” Jemma locked the door behind her and started down the stairs to her car. “Why is he sobbing about being married to me?” Fitz was going to be in so much trouble tomorrow.
“That’s the problem. He figured out the part where you’re married…but he can’t seem to grasp that it’s to him. And he’s devastated.”
Jemma rolled her eyes and started the car. “I’ll be there in less than five minutes. Have him ready to go.”
****
Pulling up to the curb, she could see Mack standing next to a still sobbing Fitz, awkwardly patting his shoulder.
Mack steered Fitz over to her car, opened the door, and pushed him with a hand on his head to keep Fitz from accidently knocking himself out. “Good luck,” Mack said and shut the car door.
“Jemma!” Fitz wailed.
“I’m here.” She pulled away from the curb and headed home.
Fitz wiped at his eyes. “Thank you for coming to get me. Are you sure he won’t be mad?”
“That who won’t be mad?” Jemma had a good idea who Fitz meant but still wanted to hear him say it.
“Your husband.”
“I don’t think so. Why would he be mad at me?”
“Does he know how much I love you?” Fitz dropped his head into his hands and wept loudly.
She bit her lip. He was too adorable. “My husband’s aware.”
“I love you so much,” Fitz sobbed.
Reaching their block of flats, Jemma pulled back into the space she’d left from a few minutes ago. She got out and went around to pull the trembling Fitz out of his seat. Once she got him standing, even if he was swaying, she shut the car door and put her hands on his shoulders. “I love you too.”
“Not like you love him,” Fitz muttered darkly. “Or you would have married me.”
She really wanted to pick up his left hand and wave it in front of his face. The one with a ring that was a match to her own. Instead, she directed him towards the stairs and propped him up when he stumbled. They reached the flat and Jemma let them in.
Fitz stood in the middle of the living room, ineffectively whipping his eyes with the sleeve of his cardigan. Jemma kicked her shoes off and went to hold onto him, mostly to keep him from falling.
He looked deep into her eyes. “Do you love your husband?”
“Very much. He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”
Fitz’s lower lip stuck out. Like he was two.
“There’s nobody else I would rather be married to.” She couldn’t help teasing him. He was completely pissed and being ridiculous.
Fitz’s face became pained. “Well, I love you more than he does.”
Jemma couldn’t help her giggle. “I think you love me the exact same amount.”
Fitz rubbed at the wetness on his cheeks again, and his expression became the stubborn one he wore when he was determined to figure out something particularly tricky. “Jemma,” he announced, standing up straighter. “I am going to seduce you away from him.”
“Now?”
“No time like the present. I don’t care who your husband is, he’s a lousy berk, leaving you alone to go get your best mate out of a jam on a Saturday night.”
Jemma raised a brow.
“And I think you like me some. Give me a chance and I will make you scream loud enough to wake the neighbors and get you off so many times you won’t remember your name.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes,” his expression became fierce. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.”
Jemma slid her arms around his waist. “Don’t stop, but perhaps we should move to the bedroom.”
“To your marriage bed.” The words dripped with venom, and Jemma had to fight to keep a straight face.
“Yes, Fitz, that one.” She gently pulled him towards the door, and he followed along, pausing in the hallway to push her against the wall and press his mouth to hers. The kiss was sloppy, and he tasted of vodka, gin, and artificial cherry, but the drive behind it and how his hand clumsily found her hip and yanked her lower half towards him was endearing. And hot.
Really hot.
She moaned.
Fit broke the kiss. “You like that?” He sounded cocky like he knew she did.
“Yeah.” She flattened her palms on his chest.
“Gonna give you more.” He directed her away from the wall and into the dark bedroom. “I’m going to take you on this bed, where you screw your husband, and you’re going to like it.” He was growly and a little rough. It made her toes curl.
“I think I am,” she conceded.
Jemma sat down on the bed and scooted backward. Fitz, on his third try, crawled in after her.
He tugged her shirt off, over her head, and his eyes met hers. “Gonna make you mine, Jemma. I don’t fucking care who your husband is. I’ve wanted you forever.”
“I’m glad it’s you here with me tonight.” Jemma pulled his shirt off, making his hair fluffy, and she ran her fingers through it as Fitz kissed her again and pressed her down against the bed. Fitz being possessive was rather a nice novelty, but she was going to make so much fun of him in the morning.
He kissed along her jaw and down her throat before sucking on her nipple through her bra. “You’re going to never want anyone else to touch these except me.”
“I’m already there.”
Fitz nuzzled her breasts, but then stopped moving and his weight on her became heavier. After a few minutes, he started to snore lightly with his cheek pillowing on her chest.
“There you go,” she said, stroking his head. “Sweet dreams.”
****
Fitz woke up to a pounding headache, and a taste like something had died in his mouth.
He was face down on the bed, with his trousers still on, and the quilt over him.
For half a second, he wondered how he’d gotten home from the pub. And then he remembered.
“Bloody fucking hell,” he groaned.
“Good morning,” Jemma said cheerfully from beside him.
“Quieter. And please tell me—” Fitz paused and tried to get enough spit together to talk. “Tell me I did not have a breakdown because I forgot that the person you’re married to his me, and that I then did not proceed to try and seduce you away from myself while dead drunk.”
“You most certainly did. It was adorable. Now sit up, I’ve got aspirin and water for you.”
“Bless you.” He hauled himself up to sitting and took the glass and the pills, downing both.
“Really, you did quite good with the seduction.”
He could only vaguely remember a stumble down the hallway to the bedroom. “How far did I get?”
“You got my shirt off, and then fell asleep on my tits.” Her smile was wide, and she didn’t seem upset with him. Both of which were good things.
“That sounds like me.” Fitz handed the glass back to her. “Are you very mad?”
“No, I rather liked you being so very certain you could…how did you put it? Make me yours?”
He winced. “That was somewhat caveman of me.”
“Well, no worries, I’m already yours. We have rings and everything.”
“Best idea I’ve ever had.”
“Entirely.” Her grin got even wider. “I should have you do something for me to make up for making me come and get you at one in the morning, but I’m assuming the hangover is torture enough.”
He nodded and immediately regretted the motion.
“Shower,” Jemma said. “And I’ll have tea ready to go when you’re done.”
“You are the best wife ever.” He felt very fervent about it. She was everything good and lovely in one package, and she put up with him. “I want to kiss you, but with this breath, you’d probably divorce me.”
Jemma leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. “And then I’d marry you again. Maybe this time you’d even remember.”
Fitz groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I’m never living this down, am I?”
“No.”