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Jemma loves fall. She has loved the season since she has been a child, dancing in falling leaves and searching for chestnuts under them. Fall is kind of a magical time in between. The world says goodbye to summer and at the same time prepares for winter. It sheds its colours and provides a few golden moments of last warmth. And only fall offers the perfect mood for days spent in bed reading a book, while the rain is beating against the windows.
Jemma loves the gloomy beauty of fall as well as the moderate temperatures. But most she loves fall’s flavours. Apple and cinnamon. Pumpkin and caramel. Dark chocolate and orange. So much to combine. She has spent a lot of time online, searching for recipes. Her list of things to try is quite long.
At the moment, she’s busy with preparing a fall drink for Fitz and her. Pumpkin Spice Hot Chocolate.
It’s not difficult to make. But it looks pretty and the sweet smell makes her mouth water. Of course, she can’t keep herself from tasting. She takes a sip and closes her eyes in pleasure. Oh yes. It’s perfect. It’s autumn in a cup.
She hopes Fitz will like it as well, since she hopes it could lighten up his mood …
Fitz’s autumn didn’t start well. He got sick around the middle of September already – a terrible cold that left him wheezing and coughing in classes, everyone staring at him in bewilderment. Of course, he refused to stay in his room until he got better, no matter how often Jemma pointed out, she could share her notes with him and told him he wouldn’t ever get better if he didn’t take a break. He refused to listen and she feels a hint of irritation at the memory of him almost falling asleep in class, his nose dripping and his breaths sounding wet. Fitz really can be incredibly stubborn …
Well, in the end, he paid the price … Right when he thought the cold was about to disappear and he got better, it hit him even harder. Suddenly, he couldn’t get out of bed at all, everything hurt and he developed a high fever. The flu. His immune system has been vulnerable and his body succumbed to the viruses easily.
Now Fitz has to stay in his room. He couldn’t get out of it even if he wanted to. Jemma knows he’s miserable. Everything’s swollen and red. He has to constantly blow his nose, the fever gives him a headache and he can’t concentrate for a minute. This has to be the worst for him, she knows. Not to be able to properly use his brain, that’s usually so busy …
Fitz told her not to visit him too often, not wanting to infect her, but she can’t leave him all alone in there. She has a strong immune system. She barely gets sick and when she does, it usually doesn’t last longer than three or four days. She will be fine.
Now, Jemma hopes she can at least coax a smile out of him. She knows he has been only drinking tea and soup for days now. A little bit of hot sweetness should make him feel better. Fitz has a raging sweet tooth after all.
Despite she often enough feels the urge to say, “I told you so”, Jemma truly feels sorry for him and really wants him to feel better.
And maybe she also wants to show off. Just a little bit …
Jemma puts the drinks, decorated with whipped cream and pumpkin spice as sprinkles on top, on a tray and balances them carefully towards Fitz’s room.
Thankfully, the way isn’t too long. The hallway is almost empty. Jemma guesses everyone is in their rooms, studying or reading. Outside, the sky is a heavy grey blanket. The sun barely breaks through and the trees are bending forward under the weight of the rushing rain.
When she arrives at Fitz’s room, she knocks lightly, but doesn’t wait for an answer. When she enters, her eyes have to adjust to the dim light in there. The curtains are closed, since bright lights make Fitz’s headache worse. She can barely make out his body on the bed, until he coughs and groans. “Simmons?” He croaks.
“Yes it’s me. Er, I know you probably have enough of herbal tea, so … I brought something warm and sweet?” Jemma puts the tray on the nightstand table carefully after shoving multiple tissue packages aside and switches the lamp on. Fitz sits up in bed with sluggish movements and blinks into the sudden light, his eyes swollen and reddish. But they widen, when he spots the drinks. He swallows and scratches the back of his head. “These look amazing, Simmons, but also … like a lot of work,” he says.
“No, it was quite easy to make them. It’s called Pumpkin Spice Hot Chocolate by the way. You want to try?”
Fitz nods, eyes still sticking to the drinks. Jemma hands him one of the cups. He takes a sip and Jemma watches him excitedly. After swallowing, Fitz closes his eyes for a moment, licking his lips and exhaling a sigh. When his eyes open again, they are not as dull as they were before. There’s a light sparkle in them. “Simmons … This is delicious. Please tell me, this will help me getting better. I don’t want to drink anything else again.”
Jemma feels a warm rush of happy satisfaction. She laughs. “Not really. They only help for the mood. You’ll still have to tend to chamomile tea to get better, I fear.”
Fitz groans, but takes another huge sip of his drink, making content noises in the back of his throat. Jemma reaches for her own cup. Her heart flutters softly when Fitz looks at her with a smile, a bit of whipped cream sticking to one corner of his mouth. “You’re the best, Simmons,” he says.
Jemma smiles back at him, feeling all warm and cozy inside, and it’s not only the drink’s effect. “I know.”