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The First Christmas
He couldn’t afford to go home. Not that he said it, explicitly. But there were certainly signs. The moment the holidays rolled around, he began to grumble over, well, everything. The Christmas sweaters, the decorations in the boiler room. He even complained when it started to snow (“For goodness sake, Fitz, you can’t blame the weather,” she had scolded). But she could tell. There was something in his eyes, the way he looked at the decorations, the snow, the sweaters, when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way his gaze wandered from his text book during late night study sessions.
And really, she had convinced herself, this would be the perfect opportunity to get some more work done. She didn’t need the long flight, the tense hugs, the formal dinner. Not this year. No, she was perfectly happy spending the holiday break with her best friend.
Which was how the two (technically brilliant) teenagers ended up trapped in a dorm room on Christmas Eve. In the middle of a blizzard.
Simmons had insisted on bringing over her collection of Christmas movies. Though they typically spent time in her room (it was much tidier, after all), he had the better television (due largely to the fact that he built it by himself).
“Do we have to watch those,” Fitz offered as a greeting, opening his door.
“Of course. Protesting will do you no good. I excel at everything; school, Christmas cheer. By the end of the night, I am fairly positive you’ll want to pack up everything and move to the North Pole.” She walked right past him, gently placing her coat on the back of his desk chair.
Fitz let a skeptical look serve as his response. Which was about when he noticed her outfit. “Did you get dressed up for this?” he asked, eyeing her red dress.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said simply. “Now, I brought all the classics. I was thinking we should start with Santa Claus is Coming to Town, which is my absolute—“
“I love that one,” Fitz said. He paused, realizing he was not supposed to have such strong opinions on Christmas movies. It went rather against his Scrooge-like demeanor. “I mean— um— my mum and I always watch that.”
Simmons smiled. “Perfect. I’ll get it queued up.”
They settled on his bed, sitting so close their arms touched.
It didn’t start to snow until half way through the movie. At this point, Fitz was very clearly enjoying himself. He even sang along when ‘Put One Foot in Front of the Other’ came on.
“Mum used to sing that to me,” he said after, a slight grin on his face. “When I was little. It was around this time of year and I was really too young to start walking. She says its all the songs fault. The way she tells it, she started to sing and I got up and leisurely strolled around the place.”
Simmons laughed and scooted in a bit closer, draping her legs over his lap. “Aw, baby Fitz must have been adorable,” she said, patting his head.
Fitz blushed and turned his attention back to the movie.
By the time they were through with their second film (Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer), it was clear that they were in the middle of a storm.
“I should probably head back before it gets much worse,” Simmons said, looking out the window.
“No! I mean— uh— it’s bad out there. You can’t leave.”
“Fitz, it’s a ten minute walk across campus.”
He did not seem to find this answer acceptable. “You are not properly dressed to walk through a blizzard.”
Simmons shrugged. “I’m not properly dressed to go to sleep either.”
“Just wear something of mine.”
Simmons raised an eyebrow.
“Oh— hey! I do have clean clothes. I’m not that messy!”
Simmons kept her eyebrow raised.
“See for yourself,” he waved towards his closet door.
When she opened the door all she could see was a collection of clothes, strewn haphazardly across the floor. “This?” she questioned.
“That’s the clean pile.”
Simmons muttered something about how it hardly counted whether he washed his clothes if they were just thrown back on the floor. Which was about when she noticed the package, peeking out from beneath the mess. She could just make out the address and the name on the label. And that was around the time she came up with her brilliant plan.
The first remarkable thing Fitz noticed when he woke up Christmas morning was the beautiful girl asleep on his bed, wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of too large, flannel pajama bottoms. Second was the snow, a mass of white outside his window. The third came when he walked into the bathroom.
Taking up the majority of his mirror was a Christmas tree, made entirely out of shaving cream. Placed under the tree was the package from his mum.
“Merry Christmas,” Simmons said, standing at the door. He should have known she was awake. She was always an early riser.
“Jem— wha?” He could barely manage a coherent thought, let alone express one.
“I noticed the package last night. And the shaving cream, well, it’s a bit green, right?” she smiled.
“How did—when…”
Simmons motioned towards the pajamas. “You hid it in the ‘clean pile.’ And, well, it’s Christmas,” she paused. “Really though, how can you be sure it was me? I suspect Santa had a part in this,” her voice was teasing, light. “Go on, open it up.”
He already knew what was inside. His mum made him a hand knit jumper every year. But what he did not expect was the card. No, that wasn’t it. It was the way the card made him feel. He had been… worried? Maybe that was it. He was already homesick and this… well, he had been pretty sure this would be too much. But his mother’s neat script, her rambling descriptions of family and friends, the ‘I love you,’ much larger, at the bottom of the page. It was perfect.
The two stood in silence for a few moments. “Thank you,” Fitz finally managed.
Simmons simply smiled in response.
After another moment of silence, Fitz said, “So, the shaving cream’s all gone, yeah?”
Simmons nodded. “It was a very important, decorating related decision.”
“Guess this means no shaving,” he instinctively touched one of his cheeks.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Simmons said a bit too eagerly.
It was Fitz’ turn to smile.
“So, is there a plan for…” his voice trailed off.
“Well, we do have more movies. And a good supply of cocoa.”
Which was how the two (technically brilliant) teenagers ended up spending Christmas day in pajamas, marathoning holiday movies and drinking a great deal of hot chocolate.
The Second Christmas
Her parents had insisted she come home for the holidays. And, since money wasn’t exactly an issue, they told her to bring along ‘that boy she was always going on about’ (“He’s my best friend,” she had insisted over the phone, her eye roll almost audible).
Honestly, Simmons should have seen it coming. She loved her family, of course. But things were alway too… rigid. That was it. And she just needed a break.
She slipped away during dessert.
A few minutes passed before she heard the knocks on the door. Precise: their predetermined rhythm.
“Fitz,” she said, letting him in. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have snuck off like that, but—“
He didn’t let her finish.
“This is exactly the way I pictured it,” he said, hands resting on his hips as he examined her room. “Tidy, framed picture of Photo 51.”
She smiled. “Well, without it—“
“We wouldn’t understand the double helical structure of DNA. I know, Simmons,” he spoke over her.
She took a deep breath. “Do you think we should go back down?”
Fitz shook his head. “Nah— we, uh… what about the movie?”
“Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” she grinned. “Of course.”
And so they spent their second Christmas crowded on her childhood bed, watching their favorite holiday film.
The Third Christmas (or, technically, the 5th)
“She can be a bit… loud,” Fitz warned, standing hesitantly at the front door. “And if she brings out the family photos… just… we can always head back to the lab. The flight wasn’t all that long.”
“Fitz,” Simmons sighed.
“Right. Yeah,” he said, continuing to stare at the door.
“Fitz,” she repeated.
He nodded, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
A short, round faced woman with messy curls answered the door.
“Leopold!” his mother beamed, pulling him into a hug.
Fitz winced. Simmons knew better than to use his first name, but really, this was his mum. She would chide him about it later.
“Come in, come in,” his mother ushered them into the house. “Cuppa?” she asked.
“Hot cocoa?” Simmons countered.
“A lass after my own heart,” his mother smiled. “Your gifts are on the table. Big, impressive Shield scientists, can’t even arrive until Christmas day,” she muttered, walking into the kitchen.
Fitz pursed his lips. “Mum, I told you. We had to finish constructing the—“
He stopped when Simmons whacked his arm. “So sorry about that,” she said. “But we really are happy to be here now.”
They followed her into the kitchen, eyeing the two presents on the table. “Jumpers,” Fitz mumbled.
But Simmons was still surprised when her own package included a hand knit jumper, a beautiful pattern of snowflakes along the front. “Oh Ms. Fitz, you really didn’t have to make this for me.”
“That’s Mum to you,” she corrected. “You’re practically family, the way my boy talks of you.”
Simmons smiled.
“Right. Now, hot cocoa and a film?” his mother asked.
They both said “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” at the same time.
The Fourth Christmas (technically the 10th)
“I spiked the eggnog,” Skye sang, walking into the lounge. “So, what’s on the holiday agenda? And if you say you two are heading to the lab, I will restrain you. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty intimidating. Level nada shield consultant,” she plopped down on the couch.
“Tsk, tsk,” Fitz shook his head. “She doesn’t know.”
“We are brimming with the Christmas spirit,” Jemma said, adjusting her newest holiday jumper, curtesy of Ms. Fitz. “The hot cocoa is almost ready, we have all the movies picked out.”
“Mum’s sweaters,” Fitz added.
“Oh, please tell me we’re watching Elf?” Skye asked excitedly.
“No!” Jemma’s face seemed horrified.
“Americans,” Fitz sighed.
“We are going to watch the best holiday film of all time,” Simmons started.
“Santa Clause is Coming to Town,” Fitz continued.
“A classic,” Simmons finished.
Skye looked skeptically at the two of them. “You do realize that’s American, right?”
“Of course she would say that,” Fitz said.
“Americans,” Simmons repeated his previous sentiment.
“Right…” Skye glanced over at Ward. He shrugged.
Which was how the entire team ended up watching Fitzsimmons’ favorite holiday film. Coulson sang along, Skye made sure everyone had some of her very special eggnog, and, telling the story later, everyone would insist that May smiled when the Winter Warlock’s icy heart melted.
New Year’s Eve
Fitzsimmons had been dating for about a month. It wasn’t that they were keeping their relationship a secret. Not exactly. But Simmons wanted to keep things… private. Just the two of them, late at night, bodies tangled. No teasing, no worries. Staying up talking, and oh, it felt so good to talk. Just them for just a little bit longer.
But she forgot all of this during the countdown.
“3, 2, 1…” the team echoed, crowded in the lounge at the Playground.
As the rest of the group yelled “Happy New Year,” Simmons kissed Fitz. No, it was a bit more than that. They were full out snogging, surrounded by the team.
She didn’t even realize what she had done until she pulled away. Fitz looked at her, an eyebrow raised. Well, they were going to have to tell the team eventually.
Simmons turned towards the group, already preparing a speech. What she was not expecting was the complete lack of surprise on her teammates’ faces. Or for Skye to say, “About time. This has been driving us all crazy.”
“Wait, you all knew?” Jemma asked.
“Base of super spies,” Skye said, waving to the group.
“You guys were about as subtle as Bobbi and Hunter,” Trip added.
Coulson, meanwhile, was hitting May’s arm repeatedly. “I told you this would happen. Look. I called it, didn’t I?”
“They’ve been sneaking into each other’s rooms for the last month,” May said to Coulson. “You have access to all of the security cameras.”
“Well, yes. But look. It’s serious. I told you, I can just tell with these sort of things.”
“The romantic expert of the team,” May said, her voice flat.
Coulson seemed to miss the sarcasm.
Trip and Skye, meanwhile, were in the process of listing all the times Fitz and Simmons were blatantly obvious about their relationship.
“The day Simmons wore Fitz’ shirt,” Skye held out a finger to keep track.
“The day Fitz had on Simmons’ tie,” Trip offered.
“Oh, don’t forget about the lab sex!” Skye said a bit too excitedly. “Never walking down that hallway at night again. There are glass windows there guys. Not exactly private.”
Fitz blushed a rather deep shade of red.
Later, in his bunk, Jemma said, “So, I guess this means we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”
“Apparently we weren’t very good at it.”
“True, true. But it was kind of fun. Pretending. Not having to worry about Skye harassing us over… errr… the incident in the lab,” Simmons said, her head resting against his shoulder.
“So, what does this mean now? Am I your boyfriend? I mean… not that I want to push… or, uh, pressure, or…” Fitz stumbled over his words.
Simmons laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said simply. But what she thought was no, you are more than that. What she thought was the word soulmate.
The Fifth Christmas (technically the fifteenth)
When Fitz walked into the bathroom Christmas morning, he found a large tree covering the mirror, made entirely of shaving cream.
Simmons snuck up behind him. “Merry Christmas, Dr. Fitzsimmons” she whispered in his ear.
“Trying to stop me from shaving again, huh?”
Simmons answered by kissing his scruffy cheek. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled into his skin. “Pretty positive this was Santa’s doing,” she paused. “I didn’t expect you to be up this early.”
“Wanted to get up before Peggy,” Fitz shrugged.
Simmons nodded. “Should we wake her up? She’s only just sleeping through the night…”
“It’s her first Christmas. Let’s go get the little rugrat.”
They spent the rest of the morning opening presents (or, rather, excitedly watching as Peggy played with wrapping paper while taking an absurd amount of pictures — as per Skye’s request).
“Alright, your mum’s flight arrives in an hour. And the team will be over at three. I should probably start cooking,” Simmons said, bouncing Peggy in her arms.
“You don’t want my help in the kitchen?” he asked.
Simmons gave him a long, hard look. “Funny. You’re on baby duty,” she said, handing him their daughter.
“Margaret Fitzsimmons,” Fitz cooed. “I think mummy was being mean to daddy. But that’s fine. We can have fun by ourselves, can’t we?”
It was as she was in the process of peeling the potatoes that Simmons heard the song. “Put one foot in front of the other. And soon you’ll be walking ‘cross the fl-or-or.”
“Fitz,” she called out. “Are you pressuring our daughter?”
“Shh. This song is magic.”
“We don’t believe in magic,” Simmons responded from the kitchen.
But a couple of minutes later Fitz was yelling “Jemma, Jemma, look,” from the other room.
She walked over, holding a half peeled potato to find their daughter, hobbling in her little Christmas jumper. “It worked,” she breathed out.
“Told ya,” he smiled from the floor, holding Peggy’s hands to keep her steady.
The rest of the day was spent cooking and eating, gossiping about how Hunter and Bobbi were definitely sleeping together again (“It’s like they forget that security cameras are a thing… kind of like you two,” Skye whispered to Jemma), and singing carols (Trip and Ms. Fitz were by far the most enthusiastic of the group). Fitz and Simmons forced everyone to watch Santa Claus is Coming to Town and kept repeating the story about Peggy’s first steps.
Which was how the two (married and brilliant) scientists spent the first Christmas with their daughter, completely surrounded by family.