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"Nope. I won't do it."
“Fitz, " she complained, flopping onto the couch next to him, her shoulders sinking in disappointment. "Come on. Otherwise we'll have to find someone who'll make us go through all the proper channels when we could just do this now and get it over with. I'll sign the flier of liability and everything, and I even tested the quantity of dendrotoxin on myself yesterday."
"I still can't believe you did that."
"Well, I did."
"What if it was an overdose? You could have gone into a coma! You could have died!"
"But I didn't, Fitz!" With a groan of exasperation, he threw up his arms and collapsed back onto his couch. "Fitz, honestly, I'm fine. I'll wake up in ten minutes, I promise."
"I'm not shooting you."
"Yes you are."
"Let's shoot me then!"
"I can hardly shoot straight, Fitz!" She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath as the conversation paused. "I measured out the dendrotoxin for my body mass ratio, as well. It'll be fine. We just have to make sure it fires and applies correctly, and we know it does, remember? You shot those dummies down at the shooting range with the placebo capsules."
"I'm not shooting you, Jemma." Slowly, she scooted up next to him, delicately placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Please?" Her voice was barely a whisper. Slowly, he shook his head.
"Fitz." It was a soft whine, a pleasing look, and he turned away from her. "Fitz, look at me," she whispered, putting her hands on his cheeks and turning him back towards her. "Fitz, I want you to do this. I want you to test this prototype on me, okay?"
"No." At his blatant refusal, she straightened up and narrowed her eyes.
"Do it, or I'll just shoot myself and test it at close-range."
"Jemma!" he cried, aghast.
"I will," she threatened. Seeing the look in her eyes, Fitz leaned forward, head in his hands, and let out a long groan.
"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"
"No."
"Jemma, " he groaned again.
"Fitz," she sighed. He didn't budge. "Come on, Fitz."
"Fine." There was a pause as Jemma processed what he just said.
"Really?" she gasped.
"Fine," he echoed, barely a mutter through clenched teeth. Jemma leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you, Fitz."
Ten minutes later, a large pile of pillows, blankets, and Fitz's duvet lay in a giant pile on the floor. Jemma stood in the middle of it all, hands at her sides and chin up in a false show of confidence. Fitz was as far away from her as he could physically get, back pressed to the wall, gun in hand glowing blue.
"Are you sure, Jemma?" He raised the gun just slightly, muzzle quivering slightly. There was a deep intake of breath, but she spoke with the slightest tremor in her voice.
"Do it."
Fitz leveled the gun at his partner and pulled the trigger.
And across the room, she collapsed.
But all Fitz could see was the body falling away from May in the dark alley, feel the cold metal of a real gun fall from his fingers, hear the thud as it hit the ground. And then it wasn't May’s assassin but Jemma, hurt in her eyes, wind whipping around her before she fell from the plane. Glass and metal under his fingers as he tried to get to her, tried to get to her, the dread in his gut as he watched her plummet. And then it was all gone and she was falling.
"Jemma!" he screamed, dropping the gun with a clatter and racing towards her. "Jemma, Jemma, please be okay, please, Jemma, oh my god," he rambled, hands running up her arms, cupping her cheeks. "Jemma?" His voice was wheezing now, tears pricking at his eyes. Gently, he moved his hand to her neck and sighed in relief as a steady pulse beat under the pads of his fingers. "Oh, God, Jemma." Glancing down at his watch, he hit "timer" and shifted so that Jemma was propped up in his arms. Gently, he edged her shirt up a few inches and winced at the red mark on the pale skin of her hip. A soft touch ran of the heat of the spot and then pulled the fabric to cover it. His hand moved to brush stray hairs away from her face when he noticed the little blue streaks disappearing from her skin. Tucking her a little tighter in his arms, Fitz took a slow breath and waited.
The time was racing towards fifteen minutes and Fitz was starting to get worried. He had promised himself that he'd wait a full twenty minutes before calling an ambulance and was just reminding himself of this fact when Jemma stirred in his arms.
"Jemma? Jems, hey, wake up," he whispered as she let out a soft whining sound and turned to cuddle into his chest. "C'mon Jems."
"But Fitz," she whined. Ignoring her protests, he pulled her from where she was curled and made her sit up properly.
"How do you feel?"
"Heavy," she sighed, slight pout on her lip.
"Heavy?"
"Like, my limbs are heavy. Like I'm tired. I really just want to go to sleep, Fitz, please?" He sighed and hit a couple of buttons on his watch, calling over a few DWARFS to start scanning her. "Fitz, I'm fine, I swear. The worst that'll happen is I'll bruise, mkay? Sleep, love," she mumbled as she curled up on his lap like a cat. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Fitz dismissed the bots- they hadn't detected anything malicious, anyways. Carefully, he shifted her off his lap and instead spread out next to her, arm pulling her close to him. Jemma tangled their legs together and let her breathing slow into the steady rhythm of sleep. Fitz smiled a little as she did so and tucked his head over her shoulder, breathing in her soft scent before drifting off as well, warm and content with Jemma in his arms.
The next morning, Jemma woke up with Fitz curled around her so tightly she could hardly move. Not that she minded too much, that is. He was warm and lovely, not so tight she was uncomfortable, but enough so that she was secure in his arms. Letting out a little sigh, she shifted so that she faced him and tucked herself closer to him, her cheek to his chest, deciding to fall asleep again instead of leaving the warmth of her partner's arms. It is a Saturday, after all. It was then she noticed the tension in his chest, the way his jaw was set, the little twitches and tremors through his limbs.
"Fitz?" she gasped, hands gripping his upper arm as she pulled herself a little more upright. "Fitz, Fitz, wake up!" she cried, shaking him slightly. All of a sudden, he gasped and shot up, panic in his eyes.
“Jem-” he gasped, not even completing her name as another panicked breath drew itself through his lungs.
“Fitz! Fitz, look at me!” His gaze darted around the room, only landing on her when she put a hand up to cup his cheek. “Fitz?” A sudden look of relief washed over him and in a half-instant she was being pulled tight into his arms, his head tucked over her shoulder and leaned against hers. She leaned into him a little, wrapping her arms around him, running a hand up and down his back in comfort.
“Never make me do that again.” His voice was choked, whispered almost, and soft against her hair.
“What?”
“Never make me shoot you again. Ever.” Oh. She knew he still had nightmares about the plane, about saving May. She’d heard him wake up screaming too much to think otherwise. Jemma squeezed him tighter and nodded against him, letting him anchor himself with her warmth pressed against his.
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” she whispered. He nodded, but his grip didn’t loosen, but she didn’t mind. She knew what it was like to wake up and think that you lost someone. Nightmares of impact and blood and screaming for him to please wake up Fitz, please as police pulled her through a shattered windshield still haunted her months after. And he was always there, wrapping her in his arms, brushing away her tears with a gentle touch, kissing her on the cheek and murmuring soft reminders that I’m here and I’m okay, Jems.
“Fitz, you’d didn’t hurt me,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Fitz, I know you’d never hurt me. Ever, Fitz.” He nodded mutely against her, and she murmured to him like he would to her, soft little “I’m right here, Fitz,” and “You didn’t hurt me, I know you’d never hurt me,” and “I love you, I love you.” Absent-minded fingers played with the curls at the nape of his neck and the whispers were like kisses on his skin, soft and sweet and small.
“Thank you,” he whispered back after a few minutes, planting a soft kiss on her collarbone, then her neck, then her cheek, then gently on her lips. Jemma smiled softly, leaning forward and kissing him again, this time slower and sweeter, running her lips over his and smiling a little into the kiss. Afterwards, they pulled back and she lay back down next to him, gazing into his eyes as he watched her.
“Come on. It’s only six, let’s get some rest.” He nodded and gently pulled up the edge of her shirt to check the now-purpling spot and leaned down to leave a kiss there. Then he lay down next to her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close and she tucked herself into the little shelter his chest made and tangled their legs together.
“Kissing it better?” she murmured sleepily. A gentle hum answered affirmative and she smiled as his steady breathing lulled her to sleep.