Work Text:
Leopold William Fitzsimmons had always been a heavy sleeper. There were stories told at the Academy and MIT of the youngest graduate; on multiple occasions, his loudest professors could not even wake him up. They would drop heavy textbooks or shout in his ear, but the snoozing engineering student would snore on.
However, there was one person who could wake him. Whether it was a late night in the lab or early morning lecture, Jemma Fitzsimmons only needed to use simple gestures to disturb her best friend's slumber. She would nudge him in the forearm, place his favorite mug full of steaming tea next to his ear, mumble his name under her breath, or his personal favorite—wave a prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich with a hint of pesto aioli near his face. And one year and four months after officially becoming Fitzsimmons, Leo was introduced to a new way to wake up by his wife.
He rolled over in their bed, expecting to feel the warmth of her smaller body and smell the strawberry scent of her shampoo. The engineer was only met by the cold touch of her pillow. He slowly opened and adjusted his eyes to see her alarm clock. 3:49 AM. Far earlier than her usual wake-up call of 5:45. He rolled back over to his side and turned to the left. Light from their personal bathroom pooled under the door onto the wood floor of their large bunk. He almost fell back asleep; that is, until he heard his wife retching into the toilet.
Although he was a squeamish man, Leo quickly made his way to the door, only to find it locked when turning the knob. "Jem?" he asked while knocking. "Jem, unlock the door."
He heard her weak voice muffled behind the door. "Go back to bed, Le-” She abruptly stopped speaking as she continued to empty the contents of her stomach.
The young agent grabbed a bobby pin left beside her hairbrush on the dresser. He easily picked the lock and found her leaning against the cold tub, still on her knees, trying to catch her breath. "Oh, Jemma," he mumbled while reaching for a washcloth and running it under cool water from the sink. He rested it around her neck and moved it up to her forehead, wiping away the sweat. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he whispered into her ear, "It's okay. You're okay."
Once she calmed down and cooled off, she rested her head on his shoulder and held his hand loosely in hers, rubbing a finger across his knuckles. "Leo," she began, "you don't need to do this. I don't want you to get sick."
He waved it off with his free hand. "I'd be sick already. You know how poor my immune system is." Leaning his head down, he gently kissed her forehead and moved a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't think you have a fever. Just still a little warm from... well, you know," he ended awkwardly, not wanting to talk more about vomit than he had to. "How long has this been happening?"
"A week," she said hoarsely.
"A week? Jemma, why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it's not that big of a deal, Leo."
"My wife, Jemma 'I don't get sick' Fitzsimmons, is sick," he said. "Of course it's a big deal." They sat in silence for a few seconds until he spoke up. "Food poisoning?" he guessed.
"No, I've had the same food as you." She sat up, and he took it as a sign to help her off the tiled floor. Jemma brushed her teeth, mentally running through her symptoms and failing to match them with an illness. It hit her when she placed her toothbrush and toothpaste back in the cabinet under the sink, her hand passing certain untouched toiletries. "Oh," she mumbled under her breath, a small smile playing across her lips.
"What was that?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. The biochemist turned to face him and gave him a quick kiss. Reaching for his hand, she led him out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit hall. As she began to turn a corner heading towards the lab, he stopped in his tracks and turned back around. "Jem, let's go back to bed. You're sick, and even if you weren't, it's too early for work."
She tugged on his arm harder and practically dragged him into the lab. "This isn't for work, Leo." She pulled a bar stool out and motioned him to sit.
He did not question her, knowing it would just lead to a pointless argument. Noticing her wringing her hands together, avoiding eye contact, and brushing the loose strand of hair behind her ear again, he feared she knew she had an incurable disease. "What's wrong, Jemma?"
She looked back up and met his stare, realizing he was worried. "Oh no," she said, trying to calm his nerves. "Nothing's wrong. I just," she paused not knowing how to continue. "Okay, I don't want you to freak out or anything, and this is just my guess. I don't know how you're going to take this, so please don't-"
"Jemma," he interrupted, "just say it."
"Right." She grabbed his hand, trying to calm her nerves as well as his and took a deep breath. "I think I might be pregnant."
And that was when Leopold William Fitzsimmons blacked out.
....
"Leo? Can you hear me?" With his eyes still closed, he smelled the peanut butter and pretzels she held near his face. He gradually adjusted his vision to clearly see a jar and plastic bag inches from his face. They were set to the side as Jemma crouched next to him. She pressed an ice pack against his forehead. "Leo?"
He nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "I can hear you." He took the ice pack from her hand and held it himself. "I'm fine, Jem. Did you, uh, take," he stopped, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.
"A test?" she answered. "No, thought I'd wait for you." She backed away when he slowly sat up, leaning against the side of a desk, and she joined him on the floor, hand held in his, rubbing the knuckles. "Do you want to talk about it?" He simply nodded, still too shocked to form a full sentence. "I know we haven't talked much about it before, and the last time we did, you weren't fully on board. Then there's the fact that we live in constant danger, definitely not the best place to raise a child."
"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing her hand tighter. "I love you, Jemma, but if you think I don't want a family with you, you're crazy." They both turned to face each other, mouths quirked into small smiles. She rested her head on his shoulder. The engineer leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Do you think I'd be a good dad?"
Jemma quickly sat back up, surprised he would even ask such a question. "What?"
"I mean, my dad left when I was just two, so-"
"And that has nothing to do with whether or not you would be a good father," she interrupted. "You would most definitely be a great dad."
"Really?" he asked, wrinkling his brow at her confidence.
Jemma leaned back down against him. "You'd be the fun parent. Calling him or her 'monkey' even though I will definitely oppose. Playing pranks on the team. You also give the best hugs, just in case you were wondering."
He smiled at her list. "Thanks, but don't act like you wouldn't be a fun parent too. Tell stories about Peggy and the Howling Commandos. Get her interested in science. Make silly faces with her."
"'Her?'" she perked up at his choice of words.
"I always pictured a girl first."
"'First?' You've thought about this more than I assumed," she said kissing his cheek.
"You'd be a great mum," he said with unwavering confidence.
"And you'd be a fantastic dad," she said with, if not more than equal, unwavering confidence. "I need you to help me with a blood test." She heard him gulp nervously. "Or we could just go get a pregnancy test." She felt him nod, knowing he would be much more comfortable with that option.
"Think Bobbi would still have one?"
"I doubt it. After the twins were born, she probably tossed them. Also, I would not dare to wake her up at," she glanced at a clock mounted on the wall, "almost five in the morning."
"Then, we need to let someone know we're going off base to go buy one. No one is up this early, though."
"Well," Jemma began, "there is one person."
Leo mentally ran through the list of team members until he paused at the last person he would want to know. "No way."
"Leo-"
"Why can't we just wait-"
"Don't you want to know right now?"
"Of course I do, but that doesn't mean I need May to know that we need a pregnancy test!"
....
As a light sleeper, Melinda rolled over to face her side table when she heard the soft hum of her phone vibrating. She noticed it was almost time for her alarm to go off anyway as she opened the text message.
From: Jemma
Could you stop by the lab before you begin your tai chi this morning? Thank you.
Well, at least she's polite about it, the agent thought. She quickly changed into her athletic gear before slipping out of her and Phil's bedroom. Melinda made the short walk to the lab and poked her head in the door. "Jemma?"
"We're over here, May," the man with a Scottish accent answered, raising his hand for easier locating. She found them sitting on the floor, both looking half asleep.
"Why are you two up so early?" she asked crossing her arms and wondering what she was getting herself into.
They both slowly got to their feet, Leo pulling her up. "Well, you see," he began, already nervous. He scratched the back of his neck. "We, uh, we need to," he paused looking to his wife and hoping she would finish.
"We need to get off base for a few minutes," Jemma answered. "Fifteen minutes, tops."
"May I ask what for so early?"
"A pregnancy test," the biochemist said plainly.
Melinda raised a brow and eyed the young couple. "Okay," she allowed, "but I'm driving. You two are far too tired." She noticed they were still in their pajamas. "I'll go crank up a SUV. Go get dressed and meet me in the hangar in five." She left the room and the two by themselves.
"See," Jemma said brightly. "That wasn't so bad." She began to walk toward the door. "That doesn't mean it's not awkward," he mumbled as he followed her out of the room.
....
True to Jemma's word, they returned from their trip to the convenience store down the street within fifteen minutes, plastic bag in hand. Melinda walked them to their bunk, just two doors down from her's. The couple paused before opening it. "If it's positive, you need to let me and Phil know immediately, for safety concerns. Okay?" Jemma nodded. "I'll make sure you get some sleep." Unlike the normally stoic front she put up, the older agent showed her emotions at that moment. She wrapped them and a large group hug, whispering between them, "You'll be great."
"Thank you, May," Leo replied, "for everything." She released them from the embrace and pulled back with a rare Melinda May smile before she turned around and walked towards the gym. He unlocked the door and held it open for Jemma.
She paused before taking the first step into the room, possibly the first step of the rest of their lives. He laid a hand on the small of her back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. A sigh escaped her mouth, caused partly by her lack of sleep but mostly abundance of nerves. The restless biochemist wrapped an arm around his waist and followed him to the point where everything changed.
....
"How much longer?"
"Since you asked me ten seconds ago?" Jemma asked slightly exasperated while leaning further into him. "Four minutes and seventeen seconds."
"Sorry," he mumbled. He reached for her free hand resting on his knee, curling his calloused fingers around her softer ones. They continued to sit on the bathroom floor in silence until Jemma spoke up, one minute and forty-two seconds into the five minute test.
"If it's negative," she began but was quickly interrupted.
"It won't be."
"But if it's negative," she began again, "do you want to start trying?"
He adjusted his spot so he could see her dark brown eyes. "You know it won't be," he said with a smile. "You probably knew immediately that you are."
"I know that, and I should be looking at the optimistic side, but I don't want to get my hopes up." She let out a small disgruntled sound, leaning back into him.
"Hey, you know it's okay if it's negative, right?" He pulled her closer, his chin resting on top of her head.
"I know," she sighed. "I just," her voice caught in her throat.
He gripped his wife's hand stronger. "I think we're ready. If, and that's really big 'if,' it's negative, we start trying." He moved back far enough to face her and let her know he meant every word. "Let's have a baby, Jemma Fitzsimmons."
She inched closer, smile growing across her face, until their foreheads touched. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and pulled back again. "Let's have a baby, Leopold Fitzsimmons." She kissed him again and leaned into his warm embrace.
"Ugh," he groaned, "I hate that name. Leopold," he sneered.
"I happen to love your name," she said.
"You and my mother." He glanced down and found her gazing back up at him. "Promise me we will never name a child something as awful as Leopold."
She let out a soft giggle. "Fine," she said still laughing. "What shall we name these children who will definitely not be named Leopold?"
"We'll get to that later," he said. "How much time is left?"
She checked the timer on her phone. "Less than a minute." Her smile grew even more in the anticipation. She stood and held out a hand to help him up.
"Care to make this interesting?" he asked while she pulled him up.
"You are not trying to make a bet at a time like this."
"Hear me out," he said with his palms raised. Listening, she crossed her arms. "If it's positive, I make pancakes. If it's negative, I make pancakes."
She made the few steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "So the usual agreement?" He nodded and received a kiss on his cheek.
The alarm went off on her phone. Five minutes were up.
Before reaching for the test, his hand caught her' son the counter. "Either way, I will always love you," he said, partly singing the latter part of the sentence.
She kissed him one last time. "I love you too, Leo, but you need to stop listening to so much Whitney Houston."
He laughed and buried his face in her hair, daring not to look at the results. She heard an off-key, soft hum of the power ballad from behind her. "You get really corny this early in the day." She took an empowering deep breath and turned the test over in her hand. "Leo?" He responded with a muffled, tired sound from her husband. "Leo," she said with more force, a smile broadening and her hand tapping his shoulder.
"Yeah," he said half asleep, resting his chin on her left shoulder. His eyes focused on the plastic stick. "It's positive?" he asked already knowing the answer.
"It's positive," she confirmed turning and wrapping her arms around his neck.
"We're having a baby!" In all her life, Jemma Fitzsimmons had never seen her husband so joyful. There were moments that came close, but she knew this was the best of them all. His tears merged with hers when he leaned down and peppered kisses across her face. "Wait," he paused, holding up an index finger, "I need to talk to someone really quick."
She raised an eyebrow, ready to ask who, but then he crouched until his face lined up with her abdomen. Realizing what he was doing, she laughed softly. "You're such a sap."
"Proudly," he replied, gazing up with his bright blue eyes that were brimming with tears. He brought his attention back to her waist. "And don't let her discourage us, monkey."
"We are not calling them that," she groaned.
"Don't listen to her, monkey. She'll cave." He smirked and raised a hand to her stomach. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that you are already so loved by your amazing mum and me. We can't wait until you arrive." He pressed a kiss on top of her Harvard sweatshirt and stood back up.
"Dork," she mumbled before kissing him.
"Your dork."