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The first thing Jemma notices when she wakes up is the startling mess on the floor that is definitely not hers.
The second is the pounding headache and dry mouth.
The third is the arm wrapped around her waist and the body attached to said arm.
She manages to suppress a shriek of surprise when she shifts slightly and sees her best friend sound asleep next to her almost face down into the pillow, curls stuck up at odd angles and very much naked. She isn't wearing a stitch of clothing herself and she racks her brain to remember exactly what happened the night before, the anxiety bubbling in the back of her mind. She draws the obvious conclusions but she needs to remember the bloody details.
Jemma gives silent thanks to whatever power is watching over her that Fitz is a heavy sleeper as she slips out from beneath his covers, stumbling over more dirty laundry than she can imagine as she tries to locate her own clothes amidst his typical mess. She finds her skirt, her bra, and her shoes, but her underwear is nowhere to be found and neither is her blouse. She suppresses a sigh and picks up a shirt that isn't too wrinkled and doesn't smell all that bad and slips it on. Her underwear is probably on the bed and she's not about to look for it now.
When she leaves his flat and quickly makes her way down the hall to her own, she finally allows panic to take over.
-----
"Come on, Fitz, I think we deserve a break."
Jemma grins as she holds out the bottle of wine she saved specifically for celebratory purposes. As two of the youngest professors at Cambridge, it was the end of their first year of teaching and they'd both just gotten their final grades submitted and they were going to celebrate if she had anything to say about it.
Fitz looks up from his computer, frowning slightly. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I don't think either of us have gotten any sleep in two days."
She places the bottle on the coffee table and strides into the kitchen to retrieve glasses. "That's not entirely true, is it? I took a nap around 1am this morning and you've been dozing off all day." He makes an indignant noise and she grins at him from behind the cabinet door before swiping two glasses from within.
"Next time, we should get the teaching assistants to help. Bloody awful idea, that was," he says as she drops down onto the couch next to him. "When we finish this," he starts, because they both know that it would take a great deal more alcohol to get them plastered on a normal day, "there's scotch somewhere in the kitchen."
She passes him a half-filled glass and raises hers to clink gently against it. "Cheers," she says and he nods his agreement. "There better be something else because you know how much I hate your ancient poison disguised as a liquor."
"Oy, that's a bit rich coming from someone who drinks near pure sugar at the pub."
-----
Mind if I come over?
Go right ahead.
Jemma stares at her mobile and her heart can't quite stop racing. It's been a week since she woke up in Fitz's bed and this is the longest they've ever gone without seeing or talking to each other. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, but she can't quite bring herself to mention what had happened and she knows he isn't stupid enough to think he imagined the whole ordeal. Her fingers are shaking and she tries to clamp her hands down at her sides when she starts to pace, but they have minds of their own as she barely notices wringing them in front of her.
The knock comes and she jumps before counting slowly to three and taking a deep breath. She opens her door with a tentative smile. "Hi."
He returns her smile, though she can tell just how nervous he is. "Hey," he replies, and she steps back so he can enter. He closes the door behind him before he holds his hand out. She blinks. "I washed it the other day when I finally did my laundry." Her blouse is neatly folded and she takes it from him with both hands, slightly stunned. "Aren't you proud of me?"
She laughs, a bit too loudly and she winces internally. "Very proud. Thank you, Fitz." She places it on her kitchen counter and tries not to blush, certain she's failing miserably. "Er--you wouldn't happen to know where my--" she pauses, at a loss for words, when she gestures vaguely to her hip.
His eyes widen as he shakes his head, face reddening more quickly than hers. "I don't think they'd've done you any good, to be honest. They were sort of, er... torn." He looks away, avoiding her gaze.
She buries her face in her hands, groaning. "Oh, Fitz, I'm really sorry--"
"--no, it's not your fault, I shouldn't have--"
"--I didn't think a few glasses of wine and your scotch would--"
"--we were both so tired that it was a shite idea--"
They both stop talking over each other and she looks up at him through her bangs falling in front of her face, letting her hands drop from around her neck. His hands are resting against his hips--she tries not to think about that night. "Look, we can go right back to it, yeah? Best friends. It doesn't have to change anything."
He watches her and she wants to shrink under the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah. Back to normal."
She berates herself later because she knows nothing will be the same.
-----
The blue plus sign can't be real. It's mocking her, she's sure of it.
She doesn't remember using a condom and she should have bloody known better. She hadn't thought that it was an issue--she'd been so stressed with the end of term that she thought her period might have just been a few days late, but when a week and a half had gone by with nothing, she had to confirm the sense of dread (and something else mixed in, but she wasn't going to address that, not when her life was about to be turned upside down) and now she wants to chuck the test at the wall.
When she takes a second test three days later and gets the same plus sign, she lets out a wail and she's sure everyone on the floor hears her but she doesn't care anymore. She calls her doctor and makes an emergency appointment.
She hugs her coat around her as she locks her front door and nearly screams when Fitz peeks his head out of his. "Jemma? What's wrong?"
He's frowning and she wants to cry, but she musters a smile. "Just feeling a bit ill is all. I'm going to the doctor but I'll be back soon."
She returns an hour and a half later and knocks on Fitz's door. When he opens it, half of his hair nearly standing on end, stifling a yawn, she just barely manages not to cry. "Can I come in?" She feels hysterical and she's certain she looks the part.
His brows knit together as he nods, stepping back. "What's the matter, Jem?"
She wrings her hands so furiously that they start to hurt. "I--I'm..." The words aren't coming as easily as she hoped they would and she makes a frustrated noise. "I'm expecting." She manages it, but only barely.
His brow furrows even further before shooting up toward his hairline as recognition reaches his eyes. "Bloody--oh my fucking Christ--" He seems to be at a loss for words, too, so she looks down at her red, shaking hands and feels tears welling up in her eyes. It takes a few more seconds before Fitz's hand covers hers and she looks up, hiccupping slightly. "God, Jemma, I'm--I'm sorry. This is all my fault."
She lets out a laugh. "It sort of is," she retorts, but he doesn't smile and she bites her lip. "But not really. It's both---both our faults." She gasps for breath and looks up at him. "I'm not giving up this baby, Fitz. I don't think I could do it." Her voice breaks on the last part and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, crying into the sleeve of his shirt. His arms wrap around her and she clutches at him.
"Shhhh, it's okay, Jemma," he murmurs against her temple. "We'll figure this out."
-----
"I'm getting the scotch," he declares, and she lets out an uncharacteristic giggle at how loud he's being. One bottle of wine between them shouldn't make her head feel this fuzzy, not even close, she thinks, but they deserve to have a bit of fun.
When he comes back with the bottle and two shot glasses, wobbling slightly as he all but stumbles into his seat. "Are you starting to feel it, Fitz?" she asks, grinning as he pours a shot for each of them without spilling, despite his shaking hand. "Ahhh, this is fun! Maybe we can go out later."
He snorts. "I don't think that's a good idea, not when you can't even sit straight," he chides, smirking slightly as she sticks her tongue out at him. "Down the hatch," he says, and they both take their shots.
Two more shots each and Jemma is clutching her sides as she laughs at nothing in particular. "Oh, Fitz, you're the best. Thank heavens you showed me how to enter everything in the spreadsheet at once. Loads quicker. You're my hero!" She leans in to press a kiss to his cheek and she lingers longer than intended, but she finds herself not entirely willing to pull away. She does, though, but when he turns to look at her with a curious expression, she doesn't draw back. "Oh, hell," she says, throwing caution to the wind and pressing her mouth to his.
-----
Her cheek is pressed against the blissfully cold tiles of Fitz's bathroom floor as her stomach has decided to give her a break from throwing up. She hears Fitz cursing just outside the bathroom and she squeezes her eyes shut to block out some of the light.
"Jem, d'you need anything?" Fitz had been holding her hair back for the first few minutes but as soon as she started throwing up, she could feel his hand tense against her back and when she could speak, she told him to get out before they were both sick.
"Be quiet, Fitz," she manages, wondering for a moment if it would be worth it. She shakes the thought from her head as the wave of nausea seems to pass and she pushes herself into a sitting position, wiping her mouth with a paper towel. "This is all your fault," she accuses, standing up and flushing the toilet, using the countertop as a crutch.
He scrambles to his feet in the hallway, nodding solemnly, and she glares at his reflection in the mirror before moving to brush her teeth. "Entirely my fault," he declares, agreeing with her and she whips her head around, toothbrush in her mouth and gets a little dizzy so she sways on the spot. Fitz is suddenly beside her, holding her steady. "Whoa, Jem, easy does it."
She sighs. Her head is spinning and she doesn't know if it's from nausea or from her conflicting emotions.
-----
The bags of maternity clothing are unceremoniously emptied onto her bed before she folds them up neatly and tosses them onto the floor for later disposal. Fitz's eyes go wide. "Christ, Jemma, did you buy out the entire store?"
She lets out a frustrated huff as she stares at the pile and then down at the swell of her stomach. "Skye got a little swipe-happy with her credit card," she says with a wave of her hand, knowing that it was explanation enough. She looks back up at him and he's staring at her with that intense look again that makes her feel warm but she really, really doesn't want to deal with all of that right now. "I guess since you've already seen me naked..."
It was the truth, but she's sure he doesn't remember it too well by the way he gulps when she takes off her shirt. His eyes land on the bump now showing over her trousers and a grin threatens to split his face in half. She knows that he's trying to give her the space that she needs until she can sort everything out, but even she can't help smiling at how happy he looks. "Jem," he says, the sound of her name catching in his throat.
She rolls her eyes. "Oh, go on then, you big baby," she says, and he crosses the room in four strides before placing one hand lightly against her stomach, staring down in awe. She tries not to let her breath hitch.
"I'm not the baby," he whispers, and her eyes flutter shut for a few moments.
"Fitz," she says, her voice quiet as she looks back up at him. "This doesn't feel real. You're my best friend in the whole world." She tries to articulate her words but he shakes his head.
"You're more than that," he replies, and she stares. They stand in silence for a minute but it feels like much longer. There is so much unsaid in his eyes and she wants to say something back, really, but she doesn't know how she feels and it would be unfair to both of them. "I just wanted you to know, but I'm not--I'm not expecting anything, Jemma. I'm here to help raise our child and I'll be whatever you want me to be."
She sighs, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Thank you."
-----
Her fingers thread through his hair as he presses kisses to her jaw, slow and tender and she feels like she might just die here and she'd be more than okay with it. She's half on top of him and her blouse is already pushed off of her shoulders, half unbuttoned. She wants it completely off, so she undoes the rest of the buttons herself and tosses it up and away, somewhere she can't see because it didn't matter, not when his lips are pressed to her skin.
She tries to unbutton his shirt, too, but she can't reach the last few buttons and even if she could, he wouldn't be able to take the offending item of clothing off. He chuckles and tilts his head up to press his lips to the corner of her mouth. "M--maybe we should move to the bed, Jem," he says against her mouth and she grins, warmth spreading low in stomach. She nods and climbs off of him, straightening her skirt before reaching for his hand.
-----
"Bloody hell." She rights the mug and picks up the pencils to drop into it for the third time that morning. She misses her usual coordination and being able to walk like a normal person instead of waddling. She misses not having back pain and being able to have a drink.
Most of all, she misses the easy camaraderie between her and her best friend. It's far more complicated now and she still doesn't know how she feels. They spend even more time at each other's flats, if that is remotely possible, and on nights when she can't sleep, he crawls into bed with her and holds her and everything seems safe. She brushes away tears with one hand, wishing emotional instability was not one of the side effects of pregnancy and Fitz looks up at the exact moment she wishes he hadn't, frowning.
She sighs in frustration, sitting down and trying to return to the stack of assignments in front of her. "It's nothing, Fitz," she says, sounding more tired than ever.
"It's never nothing, Jemma," he replies, but he doesn't push. She almost wishes he would push.
"I'm scared," she admits, looking over at him. "I'm bloody terrified, really. In approximately one month, my insides are going to push out a small person and everything will change. I mean, everything has changed, but being a parent is something I wasn't considering until at least five years from now, if ever. I always thought I'd be too busy with work, and I am. I'm busy all the time and I'm never going to be there for our child--"
"--whoa, Jemma, slow down." He fixes his gaze on her, brows furrowed, and she takes a deep breath to stop herself from continuing. He runs a hand through his hair. "It's normal to be scared, I think, because if it isn't, well... I'm abnormal, too. And whatever happens, I'll be there to help, yeah? It's just a problem awaiting a solution from us. We're going to fix this, together."
She nods, wide-eyed and thinking perhaps her feelings are starting to settle.
-----
Warmth trickles down her leg and she curses wildly before reaching for her mobile and the closest towel. One ring, two rings... "Hello?" Fitz sounds concerned and hushed and she knows he's teaching right now but she doesn't really have another option, not when he was so insistent on being available.
"I--I sort of need you to take me to the hospital. Now." She hears the panic in his voice and can almost imagine his comical expression as she hears him making incoherent noises.
"Okay, okay okay okay, it's go time. It's time to go. TOM! Tom, I need you to take over the rest of the lecture--" A startled voice starts speaking in the background and she wants to laugh but it hurts and she's squatting over the floor and she makes the snap decision to get an epidural, no matter what. "--I know, I'm sorry to put you on the spot, but my--Jem--Professor Simmons is in labour and I have to go, I'm sorry." There's a whoop in the background. "I'll be right there, Jem, just hold on."
The period between Fitz's arrival and getting into the car feels like a mild nightmare, but she reaches for his hand and he holds onto it, rubbing circles against the back of her hand with his thumb. "Oh my God, Jemma. Oh my Lord. Okay, everything is going to be fine. Just stay calm. Bloody hell, why is everyone driving like shite?"
She gives a choked laugh. "Fitz, please, you're more panicked than I am. Besides, it's not as though I'm about to give birth in the car. Can you please just listen?" He gives a distracted nod and she rolls her eyes. "I just wanted to tell you that I've thought about this for the past nine months, and you know I have," she starts, and he stills. "I wish we could have done this better. I wish I hadn't been so scared from the very beginning. I wish... Maybe it's just my pregnancy hormones, but I think you're more than my best friend, too, and I want us to be able to do this together."
The light is red and she's thankful because he looks like he might crash into someone unexpectedly when he turns to her. "And what if it is just your pregnancy hormones?"
She smiles, squeezing his hand. "Then I'll drop you like a hot potato," she teases, and he gives a nervous chuckle before lifting her hand to his mouth so he can press a kiss to her knuckles.
"Deal," he says, and they'll have a conversation about it later, she's sure, but she feels the panic ease in her chest and that's enough for now.
-----
Jemma rests one arm over her forehead as she draws deep breaths, steadying her heartbeat. She smiles lazily when Fitz presses tired kisses to her shoulder and he lands unceremoniously onto his pillow. "Now that was a celebration," he murmurs, a smug grin on his face and she smacks his arm with her hand without really meaning it.
She hums her agreement and turns toward him, her head still quite fuzzy and her skin warm all over. "Better than going out, I think." She runs her fingers through the front of his curls and returns his smile before yawning and trying to turn her face away. He laughs. "Sleep now," she manages to say, closing her eyes.
"I thought I was supposed to fall asleep right after," he jokes before resting his hand against her lower back. "Good night, Jem."
"'Night, Fitzy."
-----
Nearly twenty hours later, Jemma lies back on the hospital bed, exhausted to the bone and still weakly holding onto Fitz's hand. He looks paler than she's ever seen him but she's sure she is the same, though she wasn't the one who had to take a Xanax discreetly passed to him by Skye in the waiting room. The nurses are fussing in the corner and she gives him a half-smile, all that she can manage. "Thank you for staying, even though I think you almost threw up on five separate occasions."
He nods, wrapping his other hand around hers and pressing his lips to her thumb. "I think it was six, actually. But I'm glad I stayed. I'll be right beside you, the whole damn time." He stares at her, glassy-eyed and beaming despite the bags beneath his eyes. "You're beautiful."
She chuckles and half-rolls her eyes before closing them. "I'm disgusting right now," she says in response, before opening her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. "Oh, Fitz, I just want to hold her." He makes a noise she takes to mean his agreement and she glances over toward the corner where their daughter is being wrapped in blankets before she looks back at him, trying not to cry. "Now we have the test of time to decide if I'm going to drop you," she jokes, grinning as he frowns. "I love you."
His frown melts away as he watches her with that same intense gaze and she doesn't find herself wanting to turn away anymore. "I love you, too, Jemma. More than anything." He pauses, looking up as a nurse approaches them with a bundle in her arms. "Well, maybe less than our daughter."
When she reaches out for the baby girl wrapped in a white blanket and runs a finger down her cheek, the little wails stopping just long enough for blue eyes to open and stare up at Jemma, she understands.