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It was three in the goddamned morning when Fitz felt a sudden sensation of falling and woke in a mess of flailing limbs and blankets that fell to the floor with the least-graceful thump he had ever heard. It took him at least a minute to actually realize where he was, another to comprehend what had happened, and one more to surface from the tangle of sheets and gasp a breath of air. When he did surface, however, he found his best friend sitting cross-legged on the bed, glaring him down with her arms crossed over her chest. He swallowed hard. She hardly blinked, so he righted himself a bit more and let the silence settle. Finally, he had to break the quiet.
“Jem, did you push-”
“Yes.”
Her voice was flat and he just sat there, not moving a muscle as she glared at him. Then, finally, the barest tilt of the head and he finally realized that she wasn’t mad, she was curious. His stance relaxed as he recognized the intense concentration on her features she usually reserved for particularly interesting specimens or vexing problems with various experiments. Fitz let out a long breath and let himself settle back, knowing this would take a while. Ever since he’d met her, she’d been incredibly meticulous about figuring out the littlest things, and people she was close to often weren’t an exception. Now that they’d moved in together (it saved space and costs and besides, they were the only ones even close to each other’s age here at the academy) she’d been analyzing him more and more, picking him apart over a dinner conversation she found exceptionally curious or through speculation during commercials when they watched television.
“I think I need an explanation,” she finally sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I can’t figure this one out. Why did you say my name in your sleep?” The internal cringe nearly shook Fitz’s entire being.
“I sleep-talk. Sorry. Quite frequently, actually. You probably showed up at some point, so it’s most likely nothing big.” There was a pause as her brow bunched. Then, in the most calm, rational voice Fitz could ever imagine anyone ever saying the following words in, she explained-
“I understand the whole sleep talking thing, but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.”
And that was right about when the details of the dream came back and he was encompassed with the sudden feeling of melting into a puddle.
“Uh.” She cocked her head the other way, eyes glinting in the darkness. “Well. This is vaguely embarrassing.” She kept looking. Finally, he sighed and gave in.
“Well, I was a squire in a band of knights-”
“Why weren’t you a knight?”
“Me? A knight? You’ve got to be kidding me, Simmons,” he said with a weak smile. She laughed a little at that as well, and so he continued, “-and we were on a mobile mission when we heard the main city and the castle and stuff had been attacked. Really standard medieval story fuel, you know.” She nodded.
“I think you read too much of our lit assignment,” she said with a small smile, nodding towards where the book titled Myths and Stories: Legends from 1600 BC and On settled on his nightstand.
“Anyways, it was this big, fire-breathing dragon with multiple heads and every time I sliced one off, the neck would split in two and each grow a new head-”
“Sounds rather like a Greek hydra.”
“Yes, exactly- and you were in the castle and I was so afraid you’d been killed. And so me and some others stormed the castle, killed the beast, and we found you and you were all right in the end. And then I woke up.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you kept mumbling things like ‘m’lady Jemma’ and the like.” A sheepish look twisted his face and he reached up a hand to scratch the back of his neck.
“Er, did I mention you might have been the princess?” A smile and a blush bloomed across her face.
“Aw, thanks, Fitz.” Grumbling slightly, he stood up and heaved the blankets onto the bed next to her and she busied herself with neatening it just a touch.
“Thank my subconscious, not me,” he mumbled before dragging himself into bed next to her. As she giggled and snuggled up next to him, he sighed, “Why do you come sleep in here, anyways?”
“It’s always cold in here and you’re abnormally warm. You’re like my own personal heater,” she giggled, nudging him slightly. She’s always giggly when she’s sleepy, he thought with a small smile as he nudged her back.
“Not even moved in for a month and you’re already using me as a heat source,” he grumbled, only half-grumpy as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders. As she giggled and her breathing slowed into sleep, the laughter on Fitz’s face faded and he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. The rest of the memory came back to him in a heated flush of cheeks, and he couldn’t help but had been grateful Jemma hadn’t pried any more.
“Fitz!” She rushed to wrap her arms around his middle in a flurry of torn and singed skirts, completely improper for someone of her status but he found himself not caring as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Jemma, are you oka-”
“You did it!” He couldn’t help but laugh as she completely ignored his question, releasing him and practically bouncing up and down. “You did, it, Fitz!”
“Jem, I hardly-”
“Dad has to make you a knight, now, right?”
“Jemma, come on-” She surged forward and pressed her lips to his, and suddenly he really didn’t care that he was bleeding and sore or that it was exceptionally wrong for a squire to be kissing the princess. Right now he only cared that she was pressed up against him with her hands against his chest and his hands were cupped around her waist and their lips were pressed together and he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.
When they finally did break apart, she was still smiling.
“Hi,” he breathed, a little shell-shocked.
“Hi,” she whispered back, and he leaned down to kiss her again- slower, sweeter, less frantic this time as she hummed contentment into his mouth.
And that was when he realized that her family had walked in.
Shaking his head from the residue of the dream, he sighed tucked himself around her a little tighter and matched his breathing to hers, following her into the faded grey of a now (thankfully) dreamless sleep.