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It’s the end of a golden October with mild sunbathed afternoons and foggy nights.
Halloween is close. Fitz is looking forward to it even more than usually. He has loved the holiday since he has been a child, since the delicious scent of his mother’s pumpkin pies has been floating through the rooms and since their neighbours has been generous, filling his bag with candies that lasted for at least a month. He has a lovely collection of Halloween memories, and he is sure they can only be joined by more great memories, since for the first time, he’s going to spend the day and evening with Jemma.
Jemma, who’s sitting beside him in class right now, tapping the end of her pencil against her chin without really noticing, her eyes looking straight forward at Professor Weaver. Jemma, whose hazel hair is shining bright in the sunlight that’s falling into the room and who is smelling vaguely like autumn itself – apple, cinnamon and vanilla.
Fitz can’t keep himself from throwing glances at her from time to time, losing himself in daydreams about their Halloween, how he could make her happy, could make her smile in that way that makes her eyes glow warm like wild honey. He wants it to be perfect. A perfect date. Well. Fake date. Of course.
They have an arrangement after all.
Since their first fake date at the end-of-exams-party, there have been a few more. They have been at the cinema once and at one point during the movie, when it got emotional, Jemma sighed and leaned against him. It felt great. Another time, they ordered pizza and played monopoly. Jemma was ruthless and did anything she could to win. Which she did, after a long fierce battle Fitz refused to lose. That was a great night too.
What they have … It’s a good arrangement for both of them. Everyone thinks they’re together and they don’t have to deal with flirt attempts coming from annoying people. Like Milton. Fitz feels nauseous at the thought of Milton alone. He wishes not for the first time; the guy could just disappear.
But later, after class, Milton appears right in front of them.
“Jemma,” he says and smirks, leaning against the table, completely ignoring Fitz. “Do you want to come to my Halloween party? Everyone is coming. Well. Almost everyone.” He casts a sneery side-glance at Fitz. Fitz acts like he doesn’t notice. It’s no secret he doesn’t like to go to parties. The idea of it alone makes him feel slightly sick. Too many people who could see him making a fool out of himself. Too many noises, too much smells and too loud music. Too much of everything. And you can't talk to people without screaming … What's the point?
Jemma looks up at Milton and Fitz is happy to see the barely suppressed disgust in her eyes. “Oh, this is very considerate of you, but I can’t,” she says brightly. “I’m doing a Scary Movie marathon with Fitz.” She reaches out, taking Fitz’s hand. When their fingers intertwine, Fitz feels he’s blushing. His skin feels like it’s glowing from the inside out.
Milton looks at their hands and his eyes narrow slightly. “Huh. Alright. Tell me if you change your mind,” he says with a shrug and another ugly smirk.
What? Fitz frowns. Why should Jemma change her mind? Why should Milton even ask this question? Unless … His stomach drops and the warmth vanishes. Maybe Jemma really would like to rather go to a party? Maybe she is bored at the idea of watching one movie after the other with Fitz as her only company? Maybe …
“I won’t,” Jemma suddenly says and her grip around Fitz’s hand tightens. Fitz looks at her and is surprised when he sees anger in her eyes. “Bye, Milton,” she says coldly and her voice is suddenly dripping with venom.
Milton retreats rather quickly.
Fitz feels better already. But suddenly, the worry doesn’t want to disappear. The what ifs … And it’s joined by anger, to his surprise. Why does Milton still act like he thinks Jemma is interested in him? Why does he have to ask her out and act like Fitz wasn't even there and -
Oh. This is stupid. Jemma isn’t even … They aren’t together. Not really. It’s just so she has a reason to not go on dates with Milton or anyone else. He shouldn’t feel this kind of anger. He shouldn’t be worried. They’re just very good friends doing each other a favor.
When Jemma asks him if he’s alright, Fitz just nods. He’s almost glad when their ways part because they have different classes. He feels confused and hurt in a very strange way.
“Oh Fitz,” Jemma gasps, when she enters his room and looks around. “This is lovely!”
Fitz smiles and scratches his arms nervously. “Well. It’s nothing special …”
He has been spending most of the day with decorating the room and getting everything ready for their move marathon. The couch is covered with fake spider cobs and a fuzzy black and orange blanket, printed with grinning pumpkins. There are bats hanging from the ceiling and on the table, surrounded by fake spiders, are a lot of bowls and glasses.
Fitz thinks he prepared well. He has at least five different kind of beverages, including normal things like cola and water, but also something more special: apple cider cocktail and pumpkin punch. He also has all kind of snacks and thinks there has to be something Jemma likes. Popcorn and chips, biscuits and gummy bears (the Halloween edition of course), pizza bread and pretzels.
On the floor beside the table is a huge pile of movies.
Jemma gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and Fitz feels his face starting to glow.
“It’s amazing,” she tells him softly, before dropping on the couch with a content sigh, running her fingers over a fake spider web with a chuckle.
Fitz smiles. He starts to think this is going to be great.
Jemma gasps and startles, gripping Fitz’s hand almost too tight. “Oh my gosh,” she breathes and chuckles. “That’s so creepy!”
“Hmmm,” Fitz makes. He has troubles concentrating on the movie – They’re at Insidious Part One. Which is creepy indeed. – since Jemma is leaning against him, holding his hand and sometimes laying her head on his shoulder. They’re wrapped in the blanket and he is sure they have never been this close before.
She has started to move closer to him when they were watching Pet Cemetery and she kind of got sad about the death of the kid. Since then, the movies were kind of in the background, blurred out by the noises of Jemma’s breaths – so very close to his ear, tickling his skin – her smell and the warmth of her skin.
When they started to watch The Conjuring, Fitz had a terrifying yet clear thought: He doesn’t want them to fake date anymore. He can’t act like he’s playing some kind of a role. He has feelings for Jemma, and he wants her to know. Now the thought is ghosting around in his head, more creepy than any ghost in the movie could ever be.
When the end credits are rolling, Jemma looks up at him. Her gaze is questioning. “Fitz … Are you alright?”
He nods quickly. “Yeah. Just … A bit tired. It’s getting late.”
“Hmm. I’m a bit tired too. I really enjoyed this movie marathon, Fitz.”
“I’m glad.”
There’s a moment of silence. Fitz starts to play with the legs of a fake spider, feeling nervous and agitated.
When Jemma speaks again, her voice is quiet but firm. “Fitz … Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Fitz almost holds his breath. Something … Oh yes. There’s something.
I could tell her now. I could tell her I love her. I could tell her I’m tired of calling this fake dating. I could tell her I want this to be real. Not just some kind of thing we have and use to pretend. I could.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he asks her if she wants some more popcorn with caramel and she beams at him.
It’s an excuse to get up. To get his head clear. It works. Kind of.
It’s just a good arrangement, he tells himself sternly. If I tell her, it could be over in a heartbeat. She could tell me that no, it’s not like that for her. She just wanted to be friends who sometimes help each other escaping unpleasant people. She could tell me we’d still be friends but we can’t do this anymore.
No. Maybe it’s selfish, but he wants this to last …
He returns to Jemma, they eat their popcorn and get through half another movie before they agree on watching it later, because they both yawn so much, they can barely follow the plot.
“Fitz?” Jemma asks, still sitting slumped on the couch.
“Yeah?”
“Would you mind if I sleep here tonight?” She’s worrying her lips with her teeth.
“Oh. Er. No. Of course not.” They did that before. It’s alright.
Jemma smiles at him and when she murmurs something about not having her pyjama, but looking way too tired to get up again, he shakes his head and brings her an old jumper. She puts it on and it’s a bit too big for her. The sleeves are covering her hands. It’s adorable.
She strokes the fabric with her fingers and smiles at him. “Thank you. It’s so soft and warm. I think I don’t want to give it back.”
“You don’t have to. You can keep it.” You can have everything. You can take everything. Including my heart.
A little while later, when Jemma is fast asleep, her breaths coming even and rhythmic, Fitz watches her for a moment, still feeling confused and for some reason, exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with how tired he is.
He looks at Jemma’s peaceful face and very quietly says, “I think I love you.”
The words die away in the void unheard and he holds his breath. Nothing happens. Nothing, except that his heart seems to jump loops in his chest.
Fitz’s face burns as he presses it into the pillow and closes his eyes, hoping to fall asleep just as quick as Jemma did. But he has no such luck.