Work Text:
It was a classic story. They had collided on the street, apologizing profusely overtop one another; him picking up the bags he’d knocked from her hands, her reaching for the coat she’d knocked off his arm, smiling at one another before walking their separate ways. Then it happened again, just as before, except that this time they both turned their heads to the side as they recognized the other. What a funny coincidence. The third time, however, made it feel like fate and so the man with the sky in his eyes asked the woman whose face was dotted in pretty freckles to lunch. As a romantic, the man couldn’t help but feel he’d just met the love of his life. Yet, he couldn’t have realized that the love of his life would also be a witch.
Jemma had always been exceptionally good at healing spells. She could fix a burn with a snap and a cut with a twitch of her nose. She was very good at brewing bone-mending draughts and many a fellow witch went to her rather than try and mend an injury or cure an illness by themselves. She was a prized healer and a gifted witch, but ultimately she was rather an odd bird within the witch community due to her opinion on humans.
Most witches were fascinated by humans, as it was hard not to be. Jemma’s step-brother, Hunter, thoroughly enjoyed watching human sports, thinking it was funny how they didn’t just levitate the ball, while her friend Daisy was fascinated by their technology.
“Vacuums! Aren’t humans funny little things? Can’t magic the dirt away and so they figure out a way to suck it all up. Silly little diddies.”
Jemma, however, rather admired humans. In fact, she often tried to use their scientific explanations for things to breakdown some of the simpler spells she knew. Perhaps there was some greater link between what humans called science and what she called magic. To the wider group of local witches, Jemma Simmons’ admiration for humans was accepted as a funny little quirk. Dating one, however… well saying it caused a buzz was an understatement. And it caught the attention of a certain person in particular. Jemma Simmons’ mother.
“So, darling, I heard you were going steady with a mortal” Jemma’s mother drawled, appearing in her daughter’s apartment as she brushed her hair before bed.
“Ah! Mother, what are you doing here?” Jemma shrieked, spinning in her seat to face her mother and finding her perched on the windowsill.
“What am I doing here? Darling, I’ve come to take you home since you have obviously lost your mind.”
“Lost my mind? Whatever are you talking about?”
From her spot, her mother tsked impatiently and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“Oh my dear, don’t you remember I was the one who taught you how to look into a crystal ball.”
Jemma’s eyes went wide. “Mother, you haven’t.”
"You just thought I was going to let you move all the way to America and not check up on you once in a while?”
“You are always welcome to come and see how I am, mum, but that doesn’t mean you get to peer at me through your crystal ball or just snap into my room unannounced,” Jemma scolded, her nightgown flowing as she walked towards her mother’s window seat, “What if Fitz had been here? What if he had seen you?”
“So that’s the mortal’s name. Fitz. Hmm.”
A crease formed between Jemma’s eyebrows and she pursed her lips. “What do you mean by hmm .”
“Nothing, darling. Nothing at all. I will admit I thought he was rather handsome before I found out he was a human.”
“He is handsome, human or not,” Jemma snapped, “And brilliant, and charming, and kind and if you gave him a chance and weren’t so prejudice I believe you would like him rather a lot.”
A little look glided across her mother’s face at her daughter’s boldness before she turned tack.
“Well then, have you told him you’re a witch?”
Instead of trying to hide in a lie, Jemma simply raised her chin at her mother and crossed her arms. “I haven’t yet, but I plan to tomorrow.”
“Well then,” her mother sighed, “I shall visit you tomorrow to find out how it went.”
Knowing her mother well, Jemma had the good sense to detect the woman’s patronizing tone. However, having experience along with the good sense, Jemma elected to ignore it. If there was any mortal she trusted with the knowledge of her being a witch, it was Fitz.
When Fitz arrived, he did so with a trio of knocks and a smile. He was dressed in his slacks, plaid button-up and brown windbreaker, his curls combed to the side in the signature ‘60s fashion. He smelled like cologne and soap and Jemma couldn’t help but smile at him as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt.
“Ready to go?” he asked, offering her his arm.
She took his arm gladly before they began to walk down the steps that lead up to her brownstone. “Indeed I am. What do you have planned for us today?”
“Lunch at L&L and a walk in the park,” he replied brightly, but Jemma noticed him fiddling with something in his pocket and that he had the cute pink tint to his cheeks he got when he was nervous. The look made her heart pound happily and she didn’t even try to stop the way her cheeks pulled back in a grin.
“That sounds lovely, Fitz.”
Lunch was as splendid as always, as was the pie that Fitz always got for dessert, and afterward the young couple went for their traditional walk in Central Park. It was a beautiful afternoon and the sun shimmered through the yellow and red leaves that still stuck to the trees. They wandered to all their favorite spots before coming to sit at their signature bench facing the bridge, Jemma’s head leaning on Fitz’s shoulder as his lips fell gently on her hairline.
As they sat there, Jemma couldn’t help but feel like her life was the best that it had ever been and there was no doubt in her mind that Fitz was the one for her. If he was going to be in her life for good like she wanted, there couldn’t be any secrets. She simply had to tell him she was a witch.
“Fitz--”
“Jemma--”
They moved at the same time, separating from one another as they both opened their mouths to utter the other’s name.
“Sorry,” Fitz said, “What were you going to say?”
“What? No, you go.”
“No, it’s fine. You start. You had a split second lead on me.”
She giggled lightly, smiling at the bit of bench between them, before taking a deep breath. Straightening up, Jemma stared him right in the eye.
“Fitz, you mean the absolute world to me and you know I love you more than anything. Because of this, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She could see his mind try and figure out what she was going to say before she said it. Normally, he was rather good at it, but something told her there was no way he was going to predict her words this time.
“I’m a witch.”
He blinked very slowly at her and if it had been one of those Disney cartoons they had at the cinema, each blink would have been paired with a plinking noise.
“Fitz?”
He shook his head as if to clear it before looking back to her. “I’m sorry, Jemma, what did you say? I don’t think I heard you.”
“You did, darling. I said I’m a witch.”
“Oh… okay--you--witch--what?”
Jemma took his hand firmly in hers and stared deeply into his eyes, her face trained in a careful expression. “I’m a witch. A broom riding, spell casting, potion making witch. See, I’ll show you.”
Jemma twitched her nose and an entire rose flew to her like it had been caught in the wind. She reached into the air and took it daintily before handing it over to Fitz. For a few moments, he simply stared at the flower like it was made of pure light.
“You you you--you just--okay so, you’re a witch,” he burst, his face splitting into an incredulous smile as a laugh shot out his mouth. “You’re a witch!”
“I can’t tell if you’re still in shock or you’re actually excited about this.”
“Oh, I’m definitely in shock and still not completely sure if I’m dreaming or not. Hell, not only am I in love with the most beautiful woman alive but she also just happens to be able to do magic. So, that’s rather brilliant isn’t it.”
Feeling like she could float into the air, Jemma wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s neck, smiling into his shoulder. “I love you, Fitz.”
“Oh!” he said, suddenly backing away from her. “That reminds me!”
Quickly, he stumbled up from his seat on the bench and stood to face her. The afternoon light was turning strands of his hair into gold as if the sun was magical as well and the nervous blush on his cheeks made him look so unbelievably irresistible. Then, as if the day couldn’t get any better, Fitz went down onto one knee.
“Yes!” she burst as he was still getting the ring from his pocket. “Oh, I’m sorry! I just got excited. Go on.”
He laughed loudly, his chin ducking to his chest briefly before he straightened his back and gave her a look of pure love.
“Jemma Simmons, will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
As they kissed, Jemma sort of lost control of her powers because of her happiness and leaves littered down lightly upon them like confetti.
Yes, it was the classic story of two people hopelessly in love. One of them just happened to be a witch.