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Jemma hovered nervously at the refreshments table in the corner of the Boiler Room, munching on chips and staring at the door. She couldn't believe Fitz was late! It was bad enough being at a Hallowe'en costume party to begin with, but to be there alone was just unconscionable! He was supposed to be there with her so that they could face this inanity together.
She reached up to scratch beneath her wig and then grabbed another chip. Crunching it violently, she glared at a handsome young cadet who was clearly coming over to chat her up. It had been happening all night, and she was seriously regretting coming out at all. If Fitz were here, she could use him as a shield against that sort of thing and have a properly good time.
"Jemma!" Maddie enthused, coming up and giving her friend a hug. "Looking good, girl," she smiled broadly. "I didn't know you had it in you!"
She blushed and rolled her eyes self-consciously, even as she felt relief at having someone to talk to who wouldn't just stare at her chest. "Yes, well," she said with some irritation. "If I'd known Fitz wouldn't be here, I certainly wouldn't have dressed like this," she gestured towards her tight, floor-length dress.
"Ohh," Maddie winked. "So you want to 'have it in you' eh?" she nudged her with her elbow. "Get it, Jemma!" She tossed back the remnants in her cup and refilled it with punch.
"No!" Jemma protested, jaw dropping slightly. "I don't-!"
"Hey there," came a deep voice from behind at the same time a hand latched onto her backside.
She brought her elbow back sharply into his solar plexus and then swung her arm up to meet his face. There was a satisfying crunch as his nose broke.
"Hands off me!" she shouted as Maddie cheered beside her.
"What the f-!" came the bewildered and somewhat muffled voice of the heap at her feet. Looking down, she realized that the man in question was dressed as Gomez Addams.
"Oh no," she whispered, realization hitting her right in the stomach.
"You're not Lacey," groaned the half-dead lump on the floor.
"I'll go get some ice," Maddie said, dashing over to the bar with a purposeful stride.
"Let me-" Jemma offered, reaching down to help him up.
"I'd rather just die here, thanks," he cringed away from her.
Jemma stood awkwardly at the refreshments table, twitching the candles and skulls into slightly different positions on the 'pagan altar'. She was alone again, and yet another young man, this one dressed as Harry Potter, was approaching. This time, she chose to ignore his presence and focus on the popcorn. She wondered why it was pink.
"Elvira, right?" he asked, taking in the long black hair of her wig and the rather daring cut of her dress.
"I'm sorry?" Jemma asked, confused. She didn't really want to encourage this conversation, but she didn't know what he was talking about.
"The Queen of Horror?" he clarified. "Mistress of the Dark?" he continued, sounding less and less sure of himself as her confusion didn't clear.
"I'm sorry," she shook her head. "I don't know wha-"
"She's Morticia Addams," came a familiar voice behind them. "And she's with me."
Jemma sighed in relief as Fitz finally arrived. She could have done without the rather possessive tone of voice and the absolutely peacocking way he was thrusting his chest out to seem larger, but she'd forgive all of that if she could just be left alone for the rest of the evening.
"Sorry, man," Harry said, pushing his fake glasses up his nose and brushing his fringe off of his lightning bolt makeup. "My bad."
Fitz nodded firmly and wrapped one arm around Jemma's shoulders. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized, his tone angry and his eyes glaring at the other young man until he left.
Jemma rolled her eyes and shrugged his hand off her. "You couldn't have texted?" she asked, rather annoyed.
"I wanted to," Fitz explained. "But my hands were all covered in grease!"
"Grease?" she asked, unconvinced.
"Pomade," he clarified. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get curly hair to do this?" he pointed at his slicked down 'do.
Jemma pursed her lips together and tried not to giggle. There were already a few errant curls springing up here and there, and that little makeup moustache was just absolutely ridiculous. Instead of pointing that out, she reached out and straightened his jacket. "Yes, well," she said, still trying to seem pissed off. "You should have started earlier, shouldn't you?"
Fitz sighed and blew out a breath. "Sorry we can't all be as prepared as you are," he said sarcastically, reaching out for one of the mini burgers.
"Oh no," Jemma said, catching his hand before he could grab one. "No eating til after I've danced."
"What?" Fitz whined. "But-"
"No buts," she shook her head. "I've been ogled, groped, and come-on-to far too many times tonight, and I plan to have at least one good dance. Now move it!"
Fitz cringed slightly at her description of her evening, but he couldn't keep a grin off his face as they moved to the dance floor. "You sure you want to do this?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, starting to move to the beat.
"Just," he glanced down at her less-than-usually-covered chest. "Wondering about containment."
Jemma smacked him in the arm for the comment. Then, she moved a bit closer and put her arms around his shoulders. "Just in case," she said, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Better safe," he agreed and wrapped his hands around her waist.