Work Text:
Lost my gloves, you give me one
Sheffield – 19 December 1997
The last thing Jemma needed was to return home with her fingers turning blue.
Her mum always made a fuss about how long it took Jemma and Fitz to walk home from school, especially during the most recent dreadfully cold winter afternoons before they were let out for their break. And now she would likely make even more of a fuss once she realized Jemma walked all the way home without gloves. Jemma dreaded having to admit to losing them only two weeks after her father had purchased them for her, a perfect match with her blue duffle coat. On normal occasions, he ceased buying her presents so close to Christmas, but he made an exception after Jemma gave him a stellar argument that mittens were simply too childish to wear at the ripe age of ten, gloves being the much more sophisticated choice. And then they had vanished, much to her annoyance.
Whether it was a mischievous thief of a classmate or a mouse, she couldn’t say, but it didn’t truly matter to her where the pair of gloves had gone. She had other matters to worry about—most importantly, convincing her new friend Fitz and his mum to join her family for Christmas.
They were almost halfway home now, the walk from their school front to Jemma’s house usually no more than a ten minute stroll, but the pair were so easily distracted that it was often nearly half an hour before they burst through her family’s front door, Jemma spewing off half a dozen questions for her dear mother as she sought out an afternoon snack.
It wasn’t always like this. She’d only known Fitz for a couple of months now, and those first few weeks in class together weren’t much to speak of—because, frankly, she couldn’t recall him saying a single word other than a nervous hello after their teacher introduced him as a new student.
After observing him in class from a safe distance—he didn’t appear to be of the bullying sort as he was so quiet, but she simply wanted to be sure—Jemma took up the opportunity to test the waters at a potential friendship when they were assigned a paired project together. He didn’t say much on that first day as they constructed their diorama, Jemma filling the time explaining why she thought they would make excellent partners for that particular project and preferably all of their future ones as well. She had observed how he always finished his assignments in nearly record time—not as quickly as she, of course, but always just a minute or two after. And she had also noticed how he didn’t bring attention to this fact; instead, he liked to keep his head down and pretend he was still concentrating on the maths on the page even though he clearly had already finished his exam.
Jemma asked Fitz about this on the third day into their partnership, and he nervously stumbled out a sentence or two about how he didn’t want the other students to feel like he was different from them. He was already different in many ways: newly moved to the area in the last year from Scotland, coming from a mystery of a family of just him and his mother. Jemma didn’t ask about those details, remembering her parents’ lessons about what were appropriate topics of conversations and which should remain off limits. Fitz did speak at length about his mother though, so Jemma knew she was kind and cared for him.
Instantly, Jemma understood his quiet nature and his feelings—of not being on the same wavelength as her fellow peers. They were never as curious, never as eager to learn in the way that she was. And for the first time in her life, she’d discovered someone who just might feel the same way.
Eventually, just as Jemma was thinking of inviting Fitz over to her house so they could work on their next project together, she was surprised when he offered up an even more intriguing idea.
“Would you like to…walk home? Together, I mean.”
He’d said it so softly, she almost didn’t catch the slight nervous tremble in his voice. She was a bit nervous too, to be honest.
“Well – I –“ he continued, “I’ve seen the way you and your brothers walk down the road, and my house is just a few minutes away, so I thought maybe if you wanted to, and if you brothers wouldn’t mind, then maybe we could, obviously, if it’s not too much trouble—"
“Yes. I’d love to,” Jemma said instantly.
“Oh. O-Okay, cool. Cool.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll wait for you outside the school front.”
And that was that.
Ever since Fitz had entered the equation of her strict daily routine—breakfast, studies, afternoon snack, free time before supper, piano, more studies, bath, and bed—Jemma couldn’t remember feeling happier. Fitz was the sort of friend she had always dreamed about finding. Interesting and humble about it. A person to challenge her thoughts and ideas. And more than anything, a great listener. She could admit that she did most of the talking during their conversations, but that wasn’t to say he wasn’t enjoying himself as well.
Except today, of course.
Fitz usually answered all of Jemma’s questions earnestly with great interest, yet he conveniently skipped over her inquiry of his supper plans for Christmas Day, seeming too distracted over her missing gloves and the possibility of her fingers turning blue.
“Here, at least have one of mine,” he said, biting the tip of his finger and pulling his glove free.
“But then you’ll be cold.”
“You’re always colder than me.”
With a roll of her eyes, Jemma huffed out a breath. “Alright, fine. Give it here,” she relented. The glove slipped onto her hand, an almost perfect fit. And even if she had to bury her other hand deep in her coat pocket, she had to admit that she was already feeling much warmer.
“Now that that’s settled,” she said, “are you certain you still can’t come over?”
His eyes staring at his feet, Fitz kicked the top of his boot against a thin layer of snow on the ground. “Jemma,” he said weakly.
“It’s just that… Well, I know you said you enjoy Christmas with your mum, and that’s all fine and good, obviously, but wouldn’t it be even more fun if we spend Christmas together? My mum makes Christmas cake, and Dad makes supper, and then if it’s not too cold, my brothers and I build a snow fort. When we were younger, we would hide out there as long as we could, hoping to catch a glimpse at Father Christmas flying across the sky.”
Fitz looked up at her with curious eyes. “But that wouldn’t be possible considering—"
“Yes, I know, I know that now . Anyway, it’s just… you’re my friend, and I know everything is new ever since you arrived, but it doesn’t always have to feel that way. Maybe we could make it a new tradition.”
He continued looking at her, considering her offer. It wasn’t odd for him to think deeply.
Finally, his face seemed to clear of his concentration, and he looked to her with a curious expression. “You wouldn’t make a big deal of it?”
“Of course not,” she insisted.
“Jemma, I know your brothers,” Fitz said flatly.
Jemma rolled her eyes again. She was all too familiar with their teasing, even if they never meant any harm. “Yes, well, they can be a nuisance, but I will make sure they don’t bother you. I promise.”
With a nod, Fitz continued on down the road, Jemma just a few steps behind him. “A big Christmas supper does sound… really nice,” he admitted.
“Ah, yes. Always thinking with your stomach.”
“It’s not just that—"
“I know what you mean,” she said with a smile, rushing up to him to link their arms. “So, you’ll ask?”
“Yeah. I’ll ask her.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. I’m sure she’d like that, anyway. She can get a bit lonely every once in a while. Especially during Christmas. “
“Great. And even if she says no, at least you asked.”
He nodded again, briefly looking down at their linked arms before returning his eyes forward. “I think she’ll say yes.”
For once in quite a long time, the pair weren’t distracted for the rest of the walk home, a new purpose propelling them forward to reach Fitz’s house instead of Jemma’s in record time.
His mother would say yes, naturally. No one could say no to Jemma Simmons when she put her heart into a cause. And what had always been a joyous and memorable Christmas in the Simmons household suddenly became even grander—a friendship that grew beyond an interesting and inseparable pair of ten-year-olds into something even more magical.
---
Twenty questions, we tell the truth
Glasgow – 31 December 2007
“They really should have thought about how one would operate this in the cold,” Jemma complained, removing her glove to swipe her phone screen.
“I suppose they weren’t thinking about someone trying to use it while wearing gloves, rather about making the most ridiculously overpriced mobile on the face of the planet.”
At that moment, all Jemma wanted to do was elbow Fitz in the ribs for his comments, but she knew his poor reflexes would result in him falling from the roof they currently occupied. So she stayed put, taking in the setting sky and instead leaned more into his side to share their warmth. Her new iPhone was distracting, to be sure—a gift from her parents after another successful term at university. But what was more distracting was the way she felt upon seeing Fitz for the first time in six months.
Things were different now. She studied literature at Oxford; he switched his field of study a few times before dedicating himself as a history scholar. Her hair was lighter and shorter than she’d ever worn it in the past. His was still an unruly mess. And for the first time during the span of their friendship, they weren’t inseparable. Granted, a semester long internship in Scotland in place of Fitz’s usual studies wasn’t a devastating separation for the two of them, but it often felt like one. Jemma’s other friends kept her company as best they could, but it wasn’t the same.
At the end of the term and their Christmas holidays—Fitz stayed in Scotland instead of their usual tradition at Jemma’s parents’ home—a friend of a friend invited Fitz to celebrate the new year at a party in Glasgow. He invited Jemma along, a much-needed reunion after months of texts, calls, and emails. It was nice to have a friend she could reach at any moment—a second pair of eyes on a particularly troublesome paragraph in a term paper, a simple wish goodnight. Yet there was nothing compared to seeing each other in the flesh, the feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around her at the airport staying with her through the entire cab ride over and even more so as they settled in next to each other to watch the sun go down as they awaited the new year to arrive.
The party was a bit of a mess, to be honest. Not their usual crowd of intellectuals and introverted quiet ones, but rather an overly excited bunch of typical exceedingly loud university students bringing in the new year with booze, dancing, and confetti on every surface.
So instead of spending the night participating in the chaos and endless drinking games, they escaped to the roof. It was quiet – ish . A game of twenty questions was his idea.
“I’m sure in no time you’ll be snatching this out of my hand any chance you get because of the convenience,” Jemma went on, waving the phone in his face.
“I highly doubt that.”
“Oh, please, as if it didn’t cross your mind that having a tiny computer in your pocket would increase your productivity.”
“Okay, yes, you may have a point there, but—"
“And look at the camera!”
“Right, that’s enough of that,” he cut in, snatching the phone from her, just as she’d predicted.
As he stuffed it into his coat pocket, Jemma cozied up closer to his side. With a sigh, she traced a pattern with her finger on his knee. “I wish every night could be like this.”
“You wish for it to be this freezing all the time?” Fitz asked.
“No, I mean…” Jemma said, shaking her head through a chuckle. “No stress or worries, just us two on a roof.”
“You’ve been stressed out lately?”
“Obviously, you?”
“Yeah, I guess me too,” he said through a shrug. “But what have you got to worry about? You’re taking on university like a pro.”
“ Loads of things. New term. New people. And then… I don’t know.” Looking out into the night, Jemma let her mind wander to what would happen in the new year. Nothing much would change, really. They’d return to university and begin the new term together. With only a year and a half left, they’d have to start their searches for positions to begin their professional careers, something Jemma was less than looking forward to. And then… she’d have to consider what to do about that other thing that was causing her to stress. The very thing radiating between them just now, Fitz probably completely unaware of how much Jemma was hoping to explore something new between them in the new year. Something she’d never dreamed of before but now felt like the most natural thing in the universe.
He was looking at her now, and Jemma could sense him hanging onto her thought just as her mind went off into a dozen different directions. She sometimes thought he could read her mind, yet she couldn’t imagine he knew what she was truly thinking about in that instant. He was too calm, and for all she knew, her thoughts alone would send him tumbling off the roof.
“And then what?” he asked curiously, pulling her back to the present.
Looking into his eyes, whatever courage she’d had to explain herself completely vanished. It was still early in the night and she didn’t want to ruin the moment. So instead of telling him straight, she shrugged. “The big unknown, I suppose.”
“Oh, please. As if Jemma Simmons doesn’t have a plan for the next ten years.”
“It’s not as simple as making a schedule. And… it also hasn’t been the same without you.”
“This again? It was only six months. And I’m back now.”
“It was a long time!” Jemma exclaimed, squeezing his arm. “And for an unpaid internship.”
“You were the one who told me to apply!”
“Yes, I know, and I’m sure it was a wonderful opportunity.”
“It wasn’t all that really,” he said, shrugging it off. “Bit boring. The archives were incredible though.”
“I’m sure they were. Anyway, I’m glad you’re back now. We’re a team.”
“Right, we are,” he agreed, linking their arms.
“So what question were we on?” Jemma asked.
“What?”
“Twenty questions,” she reminded him.
“Oh, I don’t remember at this point. Fourteen, I think?”
“Alright, umm…do you admire this person?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“Would you…” With an arch of her eyebrow, she turned to face him more fully. “Would you spend a lifetime in space with this person?”
Fitz looked to her instantly, his brow matching hers. “In space? As incredible as that sounds, space is terrifying and bleak, and could you imagine all the ways that something could go wrong?”
“Fitz, you can only answer yes or no.”
“Fine.” He considered his answer carefully, biting the tip of his thumb before nodding. “Yes.”
“Interesting,” she replied, leaning back against the roof to take in the sky, Fitz following her motion shortly after. “What about you?” she asked him, tapping her hand against his side. “Are you stressed about anything?”
He scoffed. “Constantly.”
“About?”
“University. My mum. All sorts of things.”
“That’s normal.”
“But it’s easier with you. I’m not nearly as anxious as I was before I met you.”
She hummed, closing her eyes and inhaling slowly, a fresh chill running down her spine.
“You still have a few more questions left,” he told her after a few moments.
“I’ve already solved it.” She turned her head to the side to find him doing the same. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
With a faint smile, Fitz nodded, and Jemma felt a small flutter in the pit of her stomach.
“You’d go with me to space?” she asked innocently, pulling herself back up. “For a lifetime?”
“Okay, I feel like I should…” he paused to focus on maintaining his balance, carefully pushing himself back up into a sitting position, “ preface that by saying it would only be under certain circumstances like the earth no longer being inhabitable.”
“Ah, so only if you’re forced.”
“Or if you suddenly acquired the unshakable desire to become an astronaut.”
“I see.”
“You said it yourself. Six months was a long time. A lifetime, well…”
Just as Jemma was going to urge him to elaborate, his phone buzzed in his jean pocket. He pulled it out, flipping the screen up as Jemma gave him a small eye roll at his reluctance to upgrade to something more sophisticated. As he read the text, his eyes narrowed.
“What is it?” Jemma asked.
“Text from Samuel. Apparently, things are heating up between him and Suzie, which means… they will be sleeping in the main spare room.”
Jemma dropped her chin. “Which means that I will not.”
He was already typing out a reply. “I could ask them to—"
“No, no, no, it’s fine,” she insisted, pulling at his sleeve. “I’ll just…figure something out.”
“Sorry,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know this probably isn’t how you wanted to spend the holiday.”
“No, I’m having a great time. I promise. You’re here, so…”
“But I just… since I missed Christmas, I don’t want to miss out on any more of our traditions. Because you’re right. It’s all unknown. We don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, so who knows how many more nights we’re gonna get like this.”
Through a weak smile, Jemma sighed. He was right—she didn’t know how many midnights they’d have together, but she knew that after so many memorable ones in the past, she couldn’t help but want them all.
“Things are changing, Fitz. And that’s okay. A good thing, even.”
“Yeah, I know,” he agreed. His hand was on her back, rubbing it in small circles. Jemma couldn’t remember how it had gotten there, but regardless of when that had happened, the ease of the motion and how it made her heart race even faster than before gave her the little push she needed to offer up an idea, something much more promising than a simple walk home.
Meeting his eyes, she whispered, “Can I stay with you tonight?”
His hand froze, and for a second or two, Jemma thought he was going to leap off the roof. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, because instead of returning his hand to his side or into his lap, he touched her hand where it lay between them.
Something so simple shouldn’t have made Jemma’s heart nearly leap out of her chest. How strange it was to feel something so familiar and yet completely foreign after all those years, his hand against hers, a kaleidoscope of memories living between them.
“Course you can,” he said simply, taking her hand fully in his. “There’s only one bed, but…”
“I’m sure we’ll manage,” she finished for him, her mouth curving into a small smile.
He never let go of her hand as he helped her off the roof through the upstairs window, down the hall, and into the corner bedroom where a slim twin sized mattress was wedged between a mismatched nightstand and wardrobe. Taking their time, they helped each other remove their coats, scarves, and gloves before slipping off their boots and climbing under the quilt.
“Christ, your hand’s still freezing,” Fitz said as they settled in, their heads mere inches from each other against the shared pillow.
“Took my glove off out there.”
“Right, right, yeah, I remember.”
Pulling their hands up, Jemma blew on Fitz’s fingers to warm them up before pressing her lips to his skin. “Happy New Year, Fitz.”
“Happy New Year, Jemma.”
It was horrendously early to be in bed on such a night, and there was little chance of even falling asleep at all considering the rest of the house continued on with the celebrations into the wee hours of the morning, but they didn’t care. They were forging a new tradition—one where their fingers intertwined between them under the sheets, they thought not of the future that would unfold in the new year but of the time they shared in that very moment, and they learned just how seamlessly they moved together, their lips finding each other’s long before the clock struck midnight.
---
Rice on the ground, looks like snow
Sheffield – 24 December 2017
“Are you alright?” Jemma asked happily, trying to catch her breath from running dangerously fast on the slick ground for the chance at warmth. She could have sworn Fitz tripped over the edge of her train, but she couldn’t be sure, too absorbed in catching his smile as they raced toward the barn.
Fitz blew on his hands before rubbing them together and bounced on the balls of his feet a few times, likely to regain some feeling in his toes. “Yeah, just… rethinking our initial idea of doing this on a day when it’s guaranteed to be bloody freezing. And outside, of all places.”
“Well, that’s why we wore gloves. Until the rings, obviously.”
“And on Christmas Eve .”
“It’s romantic!”
“ Jemma.”
She bit her lip, stifling a laugh. It was her idea, so she felt a bit to blame for his discomfort. But the extreme chill in the December air did little to dampen the pure and absolute joy of making a promise to one another after all these years. He’d settled for a traditional suit instead of a kilt to stay as warm as possible, and her lace dress with sleeves was just comfortable enough in the weather to focus on more important things: that first step down the aisle, her vows, and slipping the ring on his finger. For when she wasn’t shivering from the cold, she was giddy with nervous excitement from finally getting to promise the rest of her life to her best friend.
“You’re absolutely right,” Fitz said, taking her by the shoulders before pulling her into him, her head on his chest. “It is romantic.”
The barn they were currently occupying was, frankly, not much warmer than the little hill that held the ceremony. As Fitz let out a strong huff, his breath clear as day, Jemma giggled.
“It was nice, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was. To have a friend that agrees to marry you, I’d say that’s the nicest thing in the world.”
“Took us long enough. But not just that,” Jemma said, patting his chest. “It’s nice to come home. I can’t imagine doing this anywhere else.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They grew quiet as they held each other, the faint sound of snow falling outside and their guests making their way inside the house for the reception left Jemma wishing she could stay in this place for the rest of time. Sure, they had a home of their own now, a house that would soon capture countless memories—memories they’d hang on their walls, write about in journals to keep them safe. Yet this was the place where it all began, and for that, it was sacred.
“Do we have to go back?” she asked Fitz, holding him tighter.
“I mean, we don’t have to do anything. It’s our day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but the catering and the guests.”
“And the speeches.”
“Oh god,” Jemma groaned into Fitz’s shoulder. “I can only imagine what Hunter has up his sleeve.”
Pulling back, Fitz held her at arm’s length. “I know we had all these activities planned for the rest of the weekend, but I was thinking…”
“We could just stay in bed and not go anywhere and make breakfast and…”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “That sounds perfect.”
“We really should head back though,” Jemma said with a sigh.
Fitz nodded, and as he took her hand, Jemma was transported back to that afternoon stroll so long ago, their younger selves likely gawking at the idea of even holding hands let alone something so far beyond that.
Tugging at his hand and holding it to her chest, Jemma urged them to wait just a moment longer before joining their friends and family for the continued celebrations. “Did you know then?” she whispered, her eyes bright.
“When?”
“When we were ten.”
His eyes brightened to match her gaze, and with a shrug, he squeezed her hand. “Maybe just a hint.”
When he eventually carried her home, it was to a cottage that was only starting to take shape. But soon it would be so much more than a space to build their future. It would be a shrine for things old and new. The paper crowns from their first Christmas together. The stuffed Paddington bear that inspired her old blue duffle coat. And that pair of gloves, a few sizes too small now for either of them, but maybe some years along the road, they’d keep someone else just as warm.