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“Are you ever going to tell us what this mission is about?” Jemma said, peering over the front passenger seat at Skye. Next to her, Fitz’s leg was crossed over his knee, his foot bouncing nervously. “We’ve been driving for a little while already and neither of us have packed for overnight.” It was still early in the afternoon, but if Jemma had learned anything in her time as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, it was that missions had a tendency to go horribly, horribly wrong.
“Relax, children,” Skye said, turning around and glancing at Jemma over the top of her sunglasses. “We’re almost there.”
Looking over at Jemma and rolling his eyes, Fitz said, “But what are we even…even doing? Who’s even in charge here?”
“I am,” Trip and Skye both said together. As Skye snorted, Trip said, “Girl, I am the senior agent here, I am in charge.”
She pushed his arm, which was probably a bad decision, considering he was using it to drive the SUV. “Please. Let’s be real here, if there were still levels—which I am still against in both theory and actuality—I would be higher ranked than you.”
“But there aren’t and I have seniority. Not to mention I have actually led missions before and I don’t just mean missions to the kitchen for mint chocolate chip.”
“Whatever, you love my midnight ice cream sundaes, Mr. My Body Is A Temple. And I was the one who got Coulson to agree!”
Jemma cleared her throat loudly, unable to truly hide her annoyance. “Agree to what?”
Grinning widely, Skye turned around in her seat again to face the scientists in the backseat. “Agents, your mission, should you choose to accept it—and you kind of have to, this car isn’t turning around—is to engage in a challenge of skill, a feat of great ability, a test of your true right to call yourself Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”
When Fitz and Jemma just stared at her, slack jawed, Trip grinned from the driver’s seat. “We’re going mini-golfing!”
Utterly displeased, Skye glared at him. “You ruined all of the suspense.” Then she grinned at the Fitz and Jemma, who still hadn’t quite gotten over Trip’s announcement. “Mini-golf, guys! Coulson said that we could get out and have a normal day like normal people for once. No world crisis, no training, just good old fun.”
Fitz tugged anxiously at his ear, lips pressed together. “Mini-golf? Is that…he told us to go play that?”
“No, that was my idea,” she said, settling back into her seat. “You know who goes mini-golfing? People that don’t have superpowers. And that’s who we’re going to be today. Regular old people. Mini-golfing. Maybe pizza after. Who knows? No rules, no worries. It’s like this SUV doesn’t even have missiles in it.”
Chewing on her bottom lip, Jemma watched as Trip switched his hands on the wheel so he could reach over and lace his fingers through Skye’s. Looking to her right, she saw Fitz flexing the fingers of his left hand, shaking it out when they trembled slightly. She took a deep breath and said in her cheeriest voice, “Sounds great, Skye. I can’t remember the last time we got to do something fun like this.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Fitz nodding. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Sounds like something we all could use.”
“Good, because we’re here,” Trip said as he pulled the SUV off of the street and into a parking lot. Super Fun Golf, as it was unimaginatively named, seemed to be a rather popular place, with family minivans and sedans filling the lot. Luckily, they managed to find an empty spot up close and headed towards the entrance of the park.
Skye immediately marched up to the counter and pulled what Jemma could only assume was Coulson’s credit card out of her pocket. “Four for mini-golf, please.” She bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet throughout the transaction, shouting over her shoulder, “Guys, pick out your balls and clubs!”
Turning towards a wall of multicolored golf clubs and golf balls, Jemma pulled a ponytail holder out of her pocket and took her time putting her hair up, trying to get even the shortest strands to stay up and not look like she was stalling for time. Fitz cleared his throat, leaning in close to her. “Do you know what we’re supposed to do?” he whispered, blue eyes darting back and forth along the shelves.
She shrugged, then looked over to where Trip pulled down a navy blue club and then picked out a bright orange ball. “What’s up, guys?” he said, putting his hand on Fitz’s shoulder.
“Do we, um, do we get navy too?” Jemma asked, nodding to his golf club.
Laughing, he held his club up next to her body. “I think it’s about the same size you are. You look about a yellow,” he said, pulling one off the wall and handing it to her. “Try it out, see if it feels right.”
Jemma wrapped her arms around the grip of the club and did a few practice swings like she had seen golfers do on television. “Yeah, it’s good, thank you!”
Trip glanced over at Fitz, who was continuing to look at the wall in confusion, then pulled down a red club for him. “You two have never done this before, have you?”
Behind them, Skye gasped, coming around to look them in the eyes. “You’ve never mini-golfed?” At their collective shrug, her eyes went wide. “How is that possible? I’ve mini-golfed and I grew up with nuns.”
Fitz looked over at Jemma and they exchanged a look. “It’s a rather, uh, American pastime?” he offered.
“And we’ve never really had the chance to indulge in such things,” Jemma said as she looked over the vast rainbow of golf balls, finally selecting a sky blue color. She smiled to herself when she saw that Fitz had also picked a blue ball, his a shining turquoise.
Tucking her club under her arm and her pink ball in her pocket, Skye grabbed each of Fitz and Jemma by the arm and led them towards the course, letting Trip take up the rear. “I used to love mini-golf, it was like the only thing we got to do for fun. I think that’s why I chose it,” she admitted. “One of the guys who used to congregate the church owned a place like this and used to donate free games to us because, you know, orphans. We’d get to go on field trips every so often and it was great. Like not being parentless and abandoned.”
Trip wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, dropping his chin on top of her head. “Sounds cheery.”
“It was,” Skye said, releasing Fitzsimmons and leaning back against Trip. “Or as cheery as it got with the nuns. You’d be surprised how flexible they can be in those habits though. I think Sister Mary Agnes actually had the course record.”
As soon as Skye let go as his arm, Fitz fell back away from the group and Jemma followed him with her eyes as he looked around the at the first few holes that were within view. Slowing down her pace until she fell into step with him, she smiled at him as soon as she caught his gaze. “Are you alright, Fitz?”
“Yeah, I’m just, just…fine. I’m fine.” Licking his lips quickly, he ran his hands over his golf club. “Just not sure how good I’m gonna be at this.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that it didn’t matter how good he was, it was just miniature golf, but she didn’t think that was what he needed to hear right now. “Honestly, I think you’re going to be just fine. Now, me, I might make an embarrassment of us. This kind of coordination has never been my strongest suit.” Lowering her voice, she said, “You promise not to laugh at me?”
His cheeks pinked under her gaze. “You know I’d never laugh at you.”
When they approached the first hole, Skye held up a small pad and even smaller pencil. “Who wants to keep score?”
“I’ll do that, thank you,” Jemma said, taking them from her. “Your addition is terrible and your handwriting is even worse.”
“That is completely true,” Skye said, leaning against a bench that was right off of the first hole. “Alright, so, let’s make this interesting. Coulson said we also could go to dinner afterwards if we come back to the base after that, but I think we can also swing froyo and maybe a movie, eh, we’ll see what kind of disaster the world is in by the end of the night. I say whoever wins gets to pick dinner.”
Tossing his golf ball in the air and catching it with ease, Trip said, “I’m down with that.”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely fair, Fitz and I have never even played before,” Jemma said. “And neither of us are particularly athletically inclined.”
“I think it’s safe to say that none of us have played in the last decade. And I don’t think athleticism and miniature golf are actually in any way connected.” Skye stuck her tongue out at Jemma when she rolled her eyes. “So, who’s first? Any takers? Fitz, c’mon, don’t let Trip show us all up right away with his arms and ‘athletic inclination.’” When Fitz just scuffed the AstroTurf with the toe of his trainer, Skye frowned at him. “Hey, Fitz, what’s up?”
He shook his head, staring out across the course to avoid everyone’s gaze. “No, it’s nothing.” His left hand tightened and loosed over the grip of the club and Jemma busied her hands with writing everyone’s names into the score tracker in order to stop herself from reaching out for him. “Just wanted to say now that I’m probably not going to be very good, so, ah, don’t expect much, okay?”
Clenching her jaw, Skye said, “Yeah, okay. But like…it’s just mini-golf? Literally no one is actually good at it and it’s just about enjoying yourself and having fun and trying your best, not trying to be the best. Besides, you literally eat anything, do you even care where we go to dinner?” That got a small smile out of him and Skye walked over to drape an arm over his shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine and if you’re not, I promise you the rest of are going to suck just as bad, it’s gonna be a great undercover op.” Nudging his hip with hers, she stage whispered, “Bet if you get a hole in one, Simmons’ll give you a kiss.”
Jemma knew she was supposed to pretend not to hear that, especially as Fitz’s face and neck turned bright red and he ducked his chin towards his chest. “Skye…”
“I will,” she said, mouth dry and heart beating with anticipation. Skye and Fitz looked at her at once with completely different expressions: Skye was grinning widely while Fitz’s eyes were large and wild, as if he’d been punched in the gut. Jemma wondered for a minute if she should back off, but she didn’t want to abandon this. She didn’t want to disappoint herself for once. Slipping the scorebook and pencil in the back pocket of her jeans, she smiled brightly at him. “So you should go for those holes in one.”
As Fitz continued to stare at her in shock, Trip laughed under his breath. “Well, alright then. I’m gonna go first.”
Jemma could feel herself flushing under Fitz’s gaze, the amount of butterflies in her stomach multiplying exponentially and escaping to her chest, her limbs, her head. She felt like if he stared at her any longer, she’d just float away. Luckily, Skye came over and tugged on her arm, forcing her to face Trip instead. “You’re missing the show,” she said, focusing her gaze as Trip leaned over with his club. His t-shirt clung to his biceps and stretched over the muscles in his back while his jeans hugged his bum perfectly. Skye made a pleased noise in the back of her throat, murmuring, “Why do you think I chose mini-golf?”
Giggling, Jemma elbowed her side. “You are so bad.”
After Trip hit his first stroke and went further into the green to hit his second one, Skye whispered into her ear, “Are you really going to kiss Fitz?”
Jemma swallowed hard, lips already tingling at the thought. “If he gets a hole in one.”
Skye beamed at her, then pulled her golf ball out of her pocket. “My turn!”
Jemma recorded Trip’s score as Skye went to go take her first shot. She heard Fitz clearing his throat next to her and looked over to see him watching her closely. “You were…just kidding, right?”
Tugging nervously on a lock of hair that had come loose from her ponytail, she shrugged her shoulders. “If you want me to be, I was. But.” She took a deep breath. “But I wasn’t.”
He smirked humorlessly at her. “Because you think I’m not going to make any holes in one?”
“No. Because I trust that you will.” At that point, she noticed that Skye had finished her turn, so Jemma stepped up to take her shot. It took a minute for her hands to stop shaking around her club; she could feel Fitz’s eyes around her the entire time and she lightly tapped her ball, sending it down the slope of AstroTurf.
It took three strokes before she got the ball in the hole, retrieving it and joining Trip and Skye to record her score. “What did you get?” she asked Skye breathlessly.
“Three,” she said, making a face. “I was a lot better at this when I was ten. Now my boobs keep getting in the way.”
“Yeah,” Trip said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shaking his head. “Shame about those.” He laughed when Skye shoved him, then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.
As she tucked her head underneath his chin, Skye frowned up at Fitz. “What is he doing?”
It was, in Jemma’s opinion, an excellent question. Fitz had left his ball and club at the top of the course and was walking down the slope to where the hole was, seeming deep in thought. Jemma shared a curious look with Trip as Fitz kicked and knocked on the fake rocks that acted as barriers. “You okay, Fitz?” Trip said, running a hand over his head.
“’m fine,” he said, heading slowly back up the slope. Jemma’s heart was in her throat as he took his club in hand, adjusting the position of his ball with his foot. She desperately hoped that his hands wouldn’t shake too much, that he wouldn’t think too poorly of himself if he didn’t perform as well as he thought he should. All she wanted out of the day was for him to make one hole in one—not so that she could kiss him (though that would be…something), but so that he could feel that joy again of being great at something.
He turned at the hips, pulling his arms back to apply force behind the ball. It slid down the slope, arcing around the rocks. The ball made a perfect crescent before bouncing against the back of the course and rolling the exact amount it needed to sail into the hole.
“What the fuck,” Skye said.
As Fitz came jogging down to meet them, he ran a harried hand through his tightly chopped curls. “Did I get it?” He glanced into the hole and smiled before a wary look overtook his face. “You didn’t, ah, I mean, push it in or anything?”
“Are you kidding, man?” Trip slapped him on the back. “How the hell did you do that?”
He bent down to retrieve his ball from the hole, weaving it between his fingers. “Uh, well, it’s mostly just physics? And geometry? And polymer engineering, all of this stuff is, it’s not real, it’s fake, so I just added the…the stiffness, the chemical properties to my equation.” Pocking the golf ball, he said, “Seems to have worked out okay.”
Jemma threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. “Fitz, that’s amazing.” As she clutched him tightly, she felt his hesitance, then he relaxed against her, his hand coming up to sit at her waist, thumb gently stroking her back.
Glancing down at Skye, Trip said, “So, at what point in inviting the literal physics genius to go play golf did you think, ‘Yeah, yeah, this is a good idea?’”
Skye shook her head slowly. “I just…I have made a lot of bad decisions, but this has got to make the Top 5.” Making a wounded noise in the back of her throat, she said, “I almost put money on this.”
“It’s okay, girl, it’s okay. Guess we’ve gotta eat British food for dinner,” Trip said, then winked over at Jemma and Fitz. “C’mon, come cheer me on.” He guided her over to the next hole as Skye talked animatedly about her failure.
Jemma had a sense that they were leaving them alone on purpose and she gently loosened her arms from Fitz’s neck, letting her hands settle on his shoulders. A flush of embarrassment had risen on the back of his neck and ears and his eyes darted towards hers only to look away. “Jemma,” he started, only to cut himself off, hands twisting anxiously around his club. “You don’t…you don’t have to do anything. It was silly.”
Her eyes were drawn to his lips as he spoke, their deep pink color, a shape she could probably draw in her sleep and wanted to memorize all over again with her tongue. But she suddenly wondered if he even wanted her to kiss him, if this was his way of trying to ward her off. Hesitating—and slightly ashamed of her own cowardice—she leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. The look on his face was virtually unreadable as she pulled away and she gave him a shaky smile before fetching her club and going to take her turn.
She didn’t want to push him, she reminded herself. They were getting back on to such good terms and it was entirely possible he had no non-platonic feelings towards her and she would be a horrible person if she invaded his space and ignored his signs that this was not what he wanted. But even as she took her turn, she couldn’t help feel guilty about the pit of disappointment in her stomach.
The second hole was another hole in one for Fitz. Skye shook her head in disgust. “So is this gonna be like a thing now?”
“You told him Simmons would kiss him,” Trip murmured quietly as Fitz went to get his ball. “You could have challenged him to build a ladder to the moon with chopsticks and that man would have gotten it done.”
As they grouped together to cross a small bridge to the next hole, Jemma said, “Well done, Fitz. I mean, really, you’re doing extraordinary. I’m rather glad we’ve never done this before, I don’t think I could have taken it if you’d just beaten the pants off me alone.”
He grinned and her heart flipped in her chest at the rare sight, his face completely free and open. “Thanks, Jem.” There was something in his gaze that held almost an expectation and she could feel a warm tingle in her limbs as she wondered… Taking the chance, she kissed his cheek again. When he ducked his head, blushing and smiling, she felt like she could collapse with relief and joy. Perhaps, maybe, he wasn’t trying to ward her away after all.
The next few holes were more of the same, with Fitz easily sinking holes in one despite Skye’s exaggerated boos and jeers—Trip occasionally joined in, depending on how particularly amused he felt and how tightly Skye wrapped her arms around his waist to encourage him to come to her team. Jemma cheered him on every time and rewarded every success with a kiss on the cheek. She wasn’t sure which one of them was getting braver, but she noticed that occasionally her kiss would land on his jaw or beneath his ear or almost the corner of his mouth and each of these sent a small thrill through her.
Hole 7 was their first real difficulty, a par 4 horseshoe shape. “There’s no way,” Skye said after it took her seven strokes to get it in (it had really been eight, but she had gotten very frustrated towards the end and they had all silently agreed to fudge one). “There’s no way he’s going to get a hole in one.”
Currently, Fitz was pacing up and down the u-shape of the course, looking at all the barriers and, Jemma knew, mathematically analyzing the angles in his head. It was, she had to admit to herself, incredibly sexy, knowing he was doing complicated geometry and trigonometry right this second just so he could achieve a singular goal, and she was getting more and more determined to achieve her own goal. She shrugged at Skye’s certainty. “I don’t know, I think if anyone can, Fitz can.” Jemma herself had done it in six, which was fairly respectable, she felt.
“No, he can’t. Like, he’s good, but no.” She shook her head. Raising her voice as Fitz came closer again, she said, “I will use Coulson’s credit card to get you two a hotel room if he sinks this. I will kiss Fitz if he sinks this.”
Trip snorted from where he was lounging on a nearby bench. “Do I have to too?”
“Politely decline, thanks,” Fitz said, then finally went to the top of the course to line up his shot. Because of the U shape, she was able to finally get a good look at him putting. His back was in a nice straight line, his arm muscles standing out far more than they usually did.
It was Skye, as usual, who gave voice to her thoughts. “Okay, gotta say it, he’s got a really nice ass.”
“Would you hush?,” she said immediately. Then, with a sigh, “God, he really does.”
Jemma was so entranced by the flex of his hips and the stretch of his shoulders as he putted that she didn’t follow the ball until it was sinking itself in the hole by her feet. Over at the bench, Trip let out a loud whoop. “Hole in one again!”
Utterly dumbfounded, Skye shook her head. “Un-freaking-believable!”
Jemma was laughing with delight as Fitz joined them, hugging him tightly and pressing herself against him before giving him a long kiss on the cheek. Fitz’s arm wrapped all the way around her waist this time, hand curling around her hip before he released her to smirk at Skye. “You do remember that, uh, we invented golf, right? In Scotland?”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Skye said, shoving his chest playfully. Then she caught ahold of his shirt and pulled him forward to get him a quick, smacking kiss on the lips. Fitz looked fairly startled while Trip put his head in his hands and guffawed, body shaking with laughter. Rather than wait for either of the boys, Skye linked her arm with Jemma and headed off to the next hole. “See,” she whispered in Jemma’s ear as they walked. “Simple as that.”
The next one was back to being a par 3 and after both Trip and Skye took their shots, Fitz cleared his throat from behind her. “Ah, Jem?” When she turned to look at him, he chewed nervously on his bottom lip. “Uh, I was wondering if you wanted me to…I wanted to offer…do you want some tips?”
Jemma hadn’t thought she was doing that poorly, overall, and really Fitz had been playing just as long as she had, but she instantly released any sense of ego. It seemed like a lifetime ago when Fitz had offered to help her with something, when she had been able to really accept his assistance—maybe miniature golf was a silly thing to get excited over, but she was suddenly grateful. “Please,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “I’m afraid I don’t really have the hang of it yet. But spatial mathematics was always more of your expertise than mine.”
A pleased expression on his face, he offered her his golf club and ball to hold while he set off down the hole. Now that she had seen him do it so many times, she knew he was visually measuring the area while mapping out the dips and curves with his feet, taking into account any barriers between himself and the hole that he could use to his advantage. It was the same reason he was so good at billiards and Jemma felt a shiver go up her spine as she remembered many a night watching Fitz hustle pool even against other genius engineers twice his age in the Boiler Room.
When he joined her at the head of the course, he leaned in conspiratorially and said, “So, the sand trap is obviously the big one here.”
“That’s what got Skye so many times,” she said under her breath and glanced over at her friend, who was leaning against Trip’s back and using him to shade herself from the afternoon sun.
“Right. So, there’s a small ridge about three inches away, you’ve got to have the ball, uh, sort of uh, you know, kiss that? If you can get it on there, it’ll ride it around and straight into the hole.” He hesitated before taking his club and ball back from her. “You want me to show you?”
She had found it hard enough to concentration on his oral instructions, particularly after he said the word “kiss”; her eyes had been immediately drawn to his lips. Shaking herself in a way she hoped he wouldn’t notice, she nodded. “I think that would help actually. Would you?”
As he set his ball down to putt, she reminded herself to pay attention to his golfing and not his butt. Unfortunately, that wasn’t much better. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt due to the heat of the day, which revealed his forearms, the muscles of which flexed as he gripped this club. She held back a breathless whimper as his fingers stretched out, then tightened over the rubber. The look of determination on his face was certainly not helping matters—it was always something she’d found sexy, though hadn’t been able to acknowledge so until fairly recently.
As predicted, his ball rolled with intent down the fake grass, catching perfectly on the ridge and circling around until it fell neatly into the hole. Skye’s groan of disgust echoed up to them as Jemma squeezed his shoulder. “Nicely done!”
He moved out of the way to let Jemma set her ball on the green. As she squared her shoulder above the club, she felt the lightest brush of his fingers on her upper arm. When she looked over at him, his face was bright pink and he was gesturing incomprehensibly at her. “Uh, can I...you’re…would it be okay…?” Fitz stepped in next to her side, letting his fingertips graze her side. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “I could show you?”
She nodded in lieu of remembering any words, all knowledge of how to speak having left her completely. Fitz settled in behind her, his hands trembling a bit as they settled on her hips to adjust her stance. She placed her left hand over his, her fingers falling into place between his. “It’s okay, Fitz,” she said, her eyes trained on the ground.
She could feel the stubble of his jaw brush against the back of his neck as he reached around her for her hands, which were currently holding the club in a death grip. “Not so tight,” he said, guiding his hands down her arms until he could wrap them around her hands. His thumbs stroked over her skin until she loosened up a bit. “I’ve noticed you, uh, you hit too hard. You don’t have to…you don’t have to force it, you know? Just give it a little push and it’ll go.” She could feel his smile against her cheek. “Newton’s First Law of Motion.”
With his arms around hers, she pulled back and putted with a significant tap. The bright blue ball rolled precisely where she had intended until it eventually slipped right into the hole. Jemma cheered, dropping her club so she could turn into his arms and hug him tightly. His hands pressed against her back, holding her close until she pulled back.
Jemma leaned up on her toes, lips finding his instantly. They were soft and giving, fitting perfectly with hers, even as Fitz stood there, his hands holding the back of her arms. When she sank back down to her feet, she watched his face carefully for any sign of anger or hurt or disgust. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, before he could verify his disappointment. “I got caught up in the moment, and—”
He kissed her gently, hand cupping the side of her face as his lips brushed against hers again and again. Jemma was fairly certain her heart was going to explode and when she placed her hand on his chest to steady herself, she felt his beat the same rhythm. Fitz’s nose nudged hers softly as he pulled away and despite the redness in his cheeks, his eyes were bluer and brighter than she’d ever seen. “Uh, you,” he said, then cleared his throat. “We both got a hole in one. So, uh, one for you, one for me.”
“Sounds right,” she whispered, grin so wide her cheeks felt like they could split in two.
There was a large family approaching behind them, so the two of them picked up their clubs and headed down to the end of the hole to fetch their balls. Before Skye could say anything, Jemma shot her a cheery smile, “So, I have to record the scores, what did everyone get again?”
“UGH!” Skye said, grabbing Trip’s arm and heading away, giving Jemma the middle finger over her head. Trip laughed and pointed at Skye, holding up six fingers until she kicked him in the shin.
The next hole was two tiered, with golfers having to choose between sending their ball between two holes on one level before going down a flight of stairs to finish the hole. Ostensibly, the correctly chosen hole would send the ball directly into the final hole at the end for a hole in one and the other hole would leave the ball stranded at the other end of the course, where they would have to navigate around sand traps and other barriers.
“I’m not sure this is even fair,” Jemma said, frowning. “The first person doesn’t have the advantage of everyone else, who will know which is the right one to choose.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Trip said, setting his ball down. He glanced over his shoulder at Skye. “What do you think, babe, right or left?”
Skye ran a hand through her hair, pushing her bangs off her forehead. “Go right.”
After Trip shot his ball into the right hole, they could hear his ball traveling through a tube and they all gathered to the edge of the structure to see his ball appear fifteen feet down…several yards away from the hole. Trip raised an eye at Skye, who bit her bottom lip. “Uh. I meant my right?”
“Uh huh,” he said, tickling her side before climbing down the stairs and finishing his turn.
Jemma recorded his score as well as the scores from the last round as Skye went next, aiming for the left hole. Fitz was stretching out his left arm, and she didn’t want to intrude and ask him if it was bothering him, so Jemma peered over the side to watch Skye finish her turn and give him a bit of privacy. “Oh, she got a two, she’ll be hap…” Jemma trailed off as she watched Trip press Skye up to the side of the structure, kissing her hard and not at all like it was the first time.
Feeling like a voyeur, Jemma quickly moved away and went to take her turn. “Aim a bit to the left,” Fitz advised. “It’ll still go in, but it’ll …you shouldn’t have to take the second stroke like Skye.”
She listened to his instructions, and they watched the ball roll into the first hole, listened to it travel down the tube, then sail right into the final one at the end of the course. Jemma bounced a bit on the balls of her feet before she smiled at Fitz. Feeling bold from her continued success, she kissed him again. This time, he seemed ready for her, his free hand coming up to hold her waist as he leaned into it. “Thank you,” she murmured, leaning for forehead against his.
“You’re welcome.” He looked at her lips and she wondered if he might kiss her again, but instead he eased away from her and set down his ball in preparation to putt.
Skye and Trip had extracted themselves from each other when she went down to get her ball, so as not to upset Fitz’s perfect score. Skye’s hair was a bit mussed, but there was no other evidence of their snog against the rocks. Her tousled hair could have easily been attributed to the late afternoon breeze. Jemma wondered how long she had been none the wiser about their relationship, whatever kind of relationship it might be.
Standing next to Skye, she wrote in her 1, and then Fitz’s as his ball came down. She glanced over at Trip before her eyes settled meaningfully on Skye. “Was this your ruse to get us to go on a double date?”
Skye raised her eyebrows, licking her lips in a way that Jemma thought must have been unintentional. “Me? I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Simmons. I just wanted to go mini-golfing.”
“Mmhmm. And how long have…” She nodded her chin over at Trip and Skye gave herself away immediately with her grin. “Now you’re not even trying!”
“Whatever, so I have a tell, I’m in not spy mode right now.” Skye stretched her arms over her head, groaning in relief as her muscles loosened. “A while now,” she said lowly. “Since a few weeks after you went away. I mean, I guess it’s pretty casual, there’s not like a promise ring or anything, but it’s…yeah, it’s good.”
“I’m glad,” Jemma said, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“Speaking of double date,” Skye muttered under her breath, nodding over to where Fitz was approaching to get his ball.
As he plucked it out of the hole, he grinned and said, “I’m liking this game.”
“God, of course you are,” Skye said. Giggling, Jemma didn’t hesitate this time in giving him a kiss and he was expecting it, meeting her halfway.
“So,” Trip said, as they headed to the next hole, clapping an arm around Fitz’s back. “You got any tips for me? Because I don’t think I’m going to overtake you for first anytime soon, but I’d really like to secure second place here.”
As they boys wandered off talking about angles and Trip’s obviously superior strength, Jemma looked at Skye out of the corner of her eye. “You’re not actually mad at Fitz, are you?””
“What?”
“You know, for winning. For coming here and doing so well.” Jemma tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I know this was supposed to be your fun game and he’s sort of taken over.”
“Simmons!” she said, putting a hand on Jemma’s shoulder to stop her. “I honestly could not care less how bad I am at miniature golf. I’m so glad that Fitz is enjoying something that he is good at. Like, he’s good at so many things and he just doesn’t get to realize it all the time because he’s so busy doubting himself constantly and it’s great to watch him have fun and be awesome like the badass he is.”
Jemma blinked in surprise. “Oh.”
“I’m just giving him a hard time because if I say that to his face, I know he’ll just get all embarrassed and clam up,” Skye said, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “And I don’t want to do anything to make him not enjoy this. I mean, it’s annoying that you two are automatically the best at literally everything you do, don’t get me wrong, but I’m pretty used to it by now. Watching him thrive at something new and get excited over it, I freaking missed that. I will suck at literally anything to watch that.” She smiled over at where Fitz was giving Trip tips and Trip threw his head back and laughed at something Fitz said. “Add in you two making out everywhere and it’s just like double bonus points for a happy Skye.”
Blushing deeply, Jemma said, “We’re not—”
“Yeah, you are,” Skye said, winking at her. “And frankly, the world is in general agreement that it’s about time. I will give Fitz less of a hard time about that though.” She paused, contemplating. “Or maybe not. Hey, lover boy!” she shouted at the men. “You gonna hurry it up or what?” When Trip and Fitz both looked up at her, she raised an eyebrow. “Really, Fitz, responding to ‘lover boy’ now?”
Fitz turned bright red and patted Trip on the back a few times, leaving him to putt as he joined Skye and Jemma. “We were just chatting,” he grumbled.
“Skye was just playing around,” Jemma said, elbowing her friend hard in the side.
Skye made a kissing noise as she went to go take her turn and Jemma watched Fitz for any sign of hesitation or regression. “Really,” she said, putting her hands around her neck, “she was just kidding.”
“No, no, I know,” Fitz said, shaking his head. “I was just thinking.” Jemma tried to wait patiently as he was clearly trying to get his words together. “Do you want to, um, talk tonight? When we get back to the…get home? I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.” He seemed to sense her nervousness when she didn’t respond right away and caught her eye, smiling a bit. “Good things?”
“Right,” she said, beaming back. She didn’t think he meant talking as a euphemism for making out, but Jemma was very much hoping that would change as the night went on. “We can have tea. I’ve got some biscuits that I hid from Hunter, they’re delicious.”
She squeezed his hand and was moving to go take her turn when he drew her back in, kissing her firmly. She immediately kissed back, seeking more, only to stare at him in confusion when they finally broke apart. “For…luck?” he offered and she laughed. It didn’t help her from stroking one over par, but she blamed that on being a bit dazed from the lingering taste of him on her lips.
The next few holes went much the same, with Fitz continuing to dominate, Skye pretending to be exasperated with him, and Jemma rewarding him with a kiss every chance she got while Trip was visibly amused with the whole process. It wasn’t until two holes before they were set to leave when it seemed that Skye was actually irritated. She was well over par, her ball refusing to go into the hole. Every time she tried, it just seemed to skirt around it or stop just short.
Finally, frustration clear on her face, she growled and a slight tremble was felt under their feet until the ball shook itself into the hole. The three of them stared at her. “Girl, you did not just do that,” Trip said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said loftily, bending down to pick up her ball and tossing it in the air before catching it.
“Skye!” Jemma hissed. “You cannot use your powers!”
“It was just a little bit.”
Trip shook his head. “Coulson’s gonna kill you.”
“Hey, if those two can use their super genius powers, I should get to use my super not-so-genius powers,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Plus, isn’t this the point where you guys congratulate me for embracing myself and doing a good job? That’s what happens in the movies.”
“Not when you do it in public!” Jemma said, rolling her eyes.
Skye looked at Trip and Jemma and, when she saw no sympathetic face, settled her large brown eyes on Fitz, who instantly squirmed under her gaze. “I mean, it is sort of…you did kind of cheat,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But yeah, good job on the control there, you did really well.”
As Jemma sighed, Skye draped her arms around Fitz in a loose hug. “See, Fitz, you get me.”
After they had finished the final hole, they made their way to the ball exchange, which was a set of three holes: two regular holes in the ground with tunnels leading to the ball drop, and then a central windmill. Trip quickly read the information sign. “Apparently, you can try for the windmill and if you get it in, you can win a free game. It shuts off for anywhere from 90 seconds to five minutes for each failed attempt, so essentially you’ve got to get a hole in one.” Trip raised an eyebrow at Fitz. “You want to go for it?”
Shrugging, Fitz put his ball on the ground and stretched out his arms with the club. “Don’t see what’s the harm.” It took him a minute to find the rhythm of the windmill, but then he pulled back his arms and let his ball go. It glided over the AstroTurf, then up the ramp and into the windmill, which let out a triumphant horn.
Trip, Skye, and Jemma all cheered as Fitz grinned proudly. Jemma immediately leaned in to kiss him and he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, holding her there as his lips caressed hers. Her patience wearing a bit thin, Skye took his other hand and stuck her neon pink ball in his hand. “You can do mine next!”
Laughing against Jemma’s lips, he took a step back and put the ball on the ground. This one was sunk as easily as the first and he kissed Jemma immediately before accepting Trip’s ball and doing the same. The kiss Jemma gave him was slower this time, lingering as she slipped him her ball and Fitz pressed his hand against her lower back as she took that as encouragement to lean her body against his.
After he let the last ball fly, Jemma was back in his space before he even really had the chance to straighten up, wrapping her arms around his neck. This kiss was a bit needier, rushed, as Skye tugged on the back of Fitz’s shirt. “Come on,” she said, a hint of a whine in her throat. “We have to return our clubs and get our free game. And figure out about dinner, I’m starving.”
They brought their clubs back to the entrance and got their four free game vouchers before heading back to the parking lot. “I would check the score,” Jemma said, “but I do believe that Fitz won the bet.”
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. We’re gonna go grab the car, you think about where you want to eat,” Skye said. She took Trip’s hand in hers, dragging him out between the rows of cars.
For the first time that day, Fitz and Jemma were truly alone. “Uh, so.” He ducked his head, running a hand through his hair. “Where do you want to eat?”
She smiled, her hand brushing against his, gently lacing their fingers together and feeling a rush through her stomach as he tightened his grip on her. “You won, you get to decide.”
“But I want to go where you want to go.”
“It doesn’t really matter to me all that much. I mean, I know you’re not particularly picky, but you should go wherever you want to go.”
He set his jaw firmly, eyes serious. When he spoke, it was slightly slower, as if he was determined not to trip over his words. “Jemma, do you want to go out to dinner with me?”
She was confused for a second because she had thought that was the plan; then his question sunk in and she grinned brilliantly, her heart thudding in her chest. “I would love to, Fitz.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Honestly, I will be happy wherever we are as long as we go together.”
Nodding in understanding and agreement, he cupped her cheeks in his hand and kissed her slowly. Jemma whimpered when she felt his tongue against her lips. She kissed him deeply, hands coming up to tangle in his hair, feeling a tingle of pleasure every time his stubble roughed against her skin. One of his arms came down to circle her waist and she found herself flush against him, his warm body against hers and Jemma knew that she had never fit anywhere quite so perfectly.
They were interrupted by the sudden honk of a horn and both turned to look at the SUV as it pulled up to the curb. Skye stared at them out of the rolled down window. “Get in, losers! We’re going to dinner!”
As they climbed into the back seat and buckled up, Trip was saying, “Thought about where you might want to eat? ‘Cause, man, I could eat.”
“I took the liberty of googling ‘romantic all-you-can-eat buffets’ for you,” Skye said. “It turns out there are absolutely none in a twenty mile radius. It’s like we’re not even in America.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “So? What do you want?”
Fitz reached across the space between the seats and took Jemma’s hand; she felt her heart constrict in her chest. Stroking her thumb over his the back of his hand and feeling the fading remnants of his lips against hers, Jemma knew exactly what she wanted too.