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The boiler room was packed. Lights flashed and people packed the dance floor. It was, after all, the end of finals, Leo mused. He was nursing his third beer and was getting pleasantly warm- not drunk, but nicely buzzed. He heard a light giggle and saw Jemma slip onto the barstool on the other side of the table.
“So,” she started, and all he could notice was the flush of the heat and alcohol on her skin, that dazzling smile, how she glowed like a goddess, her- “Fitz! Are you listening?”
“Wha- of course! Yeah, you were talkin’ about… about…”
“Fi-itz,” she groaned, drawing his name out into two syllables with a grin expanding on her face. He lost himself in the glow of her eyes again, only managing to shake himself out of it when she repeated his name, now three syllables. Maybe a bit more than buzzed.
“That’s it, we’re going dancing.” As she spoke, she stood and slapped a hand on the table, like a judge pounding a gavel. The decision was made, the punishment for wandering attention and reasonable drunkness was to be… wait, dancing?!
“Wha- Wait, no, I did not consent to dancin’, an’-”
Her hand tugged on his and he followed her to the throng of people, eyes rolling, head flopping back in an over-exaggerated gesture to look back at their little table.
“Don’t you dare look back.” He rolled his eyes as she turned back around to face him. “C’mon. Keep your eyes on me. Follow my movements. It’s not that hard! You’re a rocket scientist for heaven’s sake!”
“Rocket science is cake compared t’ this.”
“Shut up and dance with me, Leo,” she laughed, her swaying body pressing closer to his and using his arms as assistants to get him moving as well. Something whispered in his ear as he awkwardly moved to match her movements, something that told him he was becoming victim to the chemical, the physical influences of the alcohol and her pressing into his skin, how his head was getting a little lost in the way the throbbing of the bass moved her against him. Something else in him didn’t care.
After many songs passed, innumerable and uncountable in the way they melded and blended together, the music slowed a bit, turning into a smooth, slow song. Couples held each other close and Jemma pulled Fitz in by the hands, clasping his behind her back before moving to loop hers around his neck. Slowly, one of his hands moved up to cusp her open back, the other on the edge of her dress. He felt shabby next to her, dressed in beat up sneakers and lab-stained jeans next to someone who looked like a dream. Emotions swirled through the engineer as he looked at his partner, practically glowing in the now all-white lights. She was lit up like an angel and he couldn’t tear his eyes away as she tucked her small frame into his, their bodies pressing together and her cheek resting on his chest. Then he made the mistake of opening his mouth.
“Do y’ think-” he managed to murmur into her ear, “I mean, do y’ think it’s possible we were born t’ be together?” She turned back to him, brow slightly furrowed. “Like, really. ‘Cause that’s what it feels like when I’m with you. You’re- you’re like, my destiny or something.”
“Oh, Leo,” she laughed, her gaze softening as she saw his crestfallen face. “Not very scientific, no?”
“I’m drunk. I don’ need to be scientific.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, resting her head on his shoulder. There was a pause as they swayed together. “As un-scientific as it is,” she said softly, a little laugh bubbling into her voice, “I think so, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“… Really? You’re not just sayin’ that?”
“Just shut up and dance with me.”
And so he did.