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"You're sure this is the only room?" She asks again, looking wearily at the single, queen-sized bed, then back at the exhausted motel owner who leaned against the doorframe.
"I'm sure. Now are you gonna take it or not?" He barked, his slumped silhouette illuminating with a flash of lightning.
"Yes, yes, it'll be just fine!" She assured him with a smile, he passed her the keys and had her sign in before departing, slamming the door behind him.
"Well, he wasn't very pleasant." Fitz mused from the far corner of the room, where he stood wiping down his equipment with a ratty towel, "I don't have to sleep on the floor right? I don’t know how sanitary it would be." He whined.
"Of course not." She scoffed. They had been best friends for years now and to be honest, Jemma didn't even realize that this would be their first time sharing a bed, nor did she think on any level it would be weird.
Earlier that day, the recent graduates had been waiting at the airport for no less than six hours. They were supposed to meet with some high-level Shield Agent about joining an actual team in the field. And though the pair had started off bright eyed and fresh faced this morning, they were far from it now.
Simmons was wringing out her sopping hair in the bathroom sink while the Scotsman stuffed old, and already moldy-smelling newspapers into his shoes, grumbling about their cancelled flight and the bloody storm.
"Calm down, Fitz. We will get the first flight out in the morning!" She sighed, remaining sunny despite the weather.
He huffed, "Right or left?" He asked.
"Huh?"
"Side of the bed," he gestured, "right or left side of the bed?"
"Oh, I don't care, whatever you prefer." He hopped onto the side closest him, which happened to be the right, "I'm going to pop in the shower. See if there is anything on the Telly, yea?"
"On it!" He said, dutifully flicking the television on.
Jemma stepped out of the steamy bathroom twelve minutes later in a pair of shorts and a too big t-shirt. Her hair was dripping but this time it was with warm, slightly vanilla smelling water.
"Fitz!" She shouted, "Those are mine!" The blue-eyed man smirked mischievously at her, popping another handful of gummy bears into his mouth.
"You really should leave them lying around like that, Jems"
"They were in my bag!" She cried.
"Which was lying around all willy-nilly on the table." He grinned at her like a toddler a she groaned and placed her wet bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash on the aforementioned table by the door.
"When did you go to Chicago?" He inquired, changing the subject. She looked down at the navy t-shirt she had on.
"I was really little, maybe four?" She said, "This is my dad’s. It was his favorite vacation." She shut off the overhead light and slide under the covers beside him, "I took it before starting at the academy. I wanted a piece of him with me." She snatched the gummy bears away from her friend, smirking at his slow reaction time, "Don't tell him I have it though," she continued, "He has been looking or it for ages!"
The only thing Fitz was able to find static-free were old reruns of I Love Lucy. Which was good enough for them, great in fact, according to Jemma. The pair chewed on their candy and chattered about their favorite old shows: Both of them in much better spirits that when they had arrived.
At 12:30 Fitz flipped off the Television set and threw the candy wrapper in the trash, and once he was back on his side of the bed, Simmons flipped off her bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
"Night, Fitz!" She whispered.
"Goodnight, Jemma."
The pair lay in still silence for a few moments before a hushed English accent broke the silence, "I have to pee."
Fitz felt her weight shift and her slide out from under the covers; he heard a short, tip-toed run across an unfamiliar floor and then bathroom door closed. He yawned and a few moments later he heard the same actions in reverse.
She sighed as the warm blanket covered her once more, "Goodnight again!" She whispered quieter this time. He grunted in response. Nearly forty minutes later Fitz was just on the cusp of falling asleep when he heard the sheets rustle and felt Simmons exit the bed again. He heard the same scurried run and the bathroom door close. Then he heard toilet flush, the faucet run, and the door open again. The pitter-patter across the carpet started again but this time was interrupted with loud thump, a hiss and a "Bloody hell!"
"Simmons, are you okay?" He asked, his voice raspy with sleep, despite not getting any.
"Ow! Yes, I just hit my hip on the bedside table." She slide back under the covers, tugging blankets back into place.
He listened to her rustle around and finally settle in. He began counting her soft breathes and finally managed to drift off...
"Fitz!" He felt a cold heel jab at his shin, "Fitz, stop snoring!"
"Ow!" He moaned after she kicked him again.
"You're really loud!" She told him, talking normally which sounded way too loud in the pitch black.
"You're the one who is yelling!" He countered back, keeping his own voice low.
"Can you please try turning over or something?" She pleaded, quieter this time.
Fitz flipped away from her, but shuffled closer so he wasn't right on the edge. He had just made himself comfortable when:
"Really?" He sat up onto his elbows, to look at her, "Again? Really." He stated.
Her eyes were wide with surprise and brief confusion, they shined brightly in the dark, "I had a lot of tea today." She justified, continuing across the room toward the bathroom.
When he felt her clamber back under the covers he spoke again, "Maybe you should go to the doctor. No one should pee that often. " He suggested grumpily.
"I am a doctor!" She countered, "I'm fine, just go to sleep already."
"I would if you didn't get up every ten minutes!"
A pillow smacked against his shoulder, but they both remained quiet.
Leo Fitz lay in silence. He had been listening to the rain pound on the windows, listened to the thunder rumble outside, but still he could not fall asleep. He flipped over for what had to be the thirteenth time, moving his arm from behind his head to hanging over the side, back to behind him.
He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration and groaned.
"Fitz?" He turned sharply, "stop moving so much." Jemma glared at him through the dark, lightning crackled outside their window.
"Sorry." He spat at her, unsympathetically.
He tried again to get comfortable, "Ouch!" He heard a sharp intake of breath, "that hurt!"
"Oh, I’m sorry!" He said, sincerely this time. Drawing back his fist from where it had accidently flopped heavily into her stomach while he tried to get comfortable.
Finally, Fitz found himself laying on his stomach, resting on his arms, the pillow lying useless against his head.
It was the most comfortable position yet, but he still couldn't doze off. He turned to the clock on his nightstand. 4:38 shined maliciously in his sleep deprived eyes.
Simmons heavy breaths had still not returned, and before he could ask, she beat him too it, "are you awake?"
"Yes." He called back. He felt her roll to face him.
"Do you ever wonder if your future grandkids ever have come back in time to see you but you don't know it's them?" She asked.
Oh, God, no.
Fitz and Simmons had had plenty of sleepovers before, all of them had been accidents: Falling asleep while studying together, or marathon-ing their favorite shows and movies. Because they had been accidents, sleep had gotten to his best friend before exhaustion-induced curiosity had. Curiosity seemed to have won this time.
"I can honestly say I have never thought about that." He mumbled.
"Okay, but think about it now!" She whispered, sounding more awake this time, "How do you know I am not your future granddaughter that used a time machine to go see what you were like."
Oh my God, Simmons. Shut up.
"Because it's scientifically impossible to go back in time. Future travel is possible, but not past. We’ve talked about this already." He explained.
"I know, but what if they do discover a way back eventually."
He let out a frustrated groan and then flipped towards her, she was looking at him, arms still wrapped around the pillow. She smiled innocently, at his irritated expression.
"Are you a future descendant of mine that has travelled back in time to meet me?" He asked.
"No." She giggled, her eyes closing, there was a fragile silence. He sat hoping it would last but knowing it wouldn't. And sure enough...
"I wish I knew whether animals thought in English or in symbols or in their own language." She murmured, "It probably depends on if they are domesticated or not, right?" She continued, seemingly to herself. Thunder clapped again outside.
"If we get a monkey, we can figure it out." He said, now interested in this pillow talk, "It would be a scientific breakthrough." The corners of his lips lifting at the thought.
"We'd need more than just a monkey!" She countered, "Other species."
"Okay, but we would still get a monkey."
He knew she was rolling her eyes at him just then.
"A Capuchin would probably be best because they are much more domesticated so he could be more f a pet than a experimental subject. I also like the Macaques: both the Rhyses and the Japanese are-", he stopped when he heard her breathing slow and deepen. He looked at her: her cheek pressed against the lumpy hotel pillow. He sighed, pushing a loose curl out of her sleeping face. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed, so he forgave her for her squirrel bladder and ceaseless chatter that nearly caused an all nighter.
That is, he nearly forgave her until an hour later, after getting a mere 60 minutes of sleep, she shook him awake again, "I swear to God, Leo Fitz, if you kick me one more time, you are sleeping on the floor!"
Turns out he didn’t forgive her after all.
Without looking he swung his pillow behind him, hitting his target with an Umph! Then she swung one back with surprising force, which left a resounding Smack! as it hit the side of his head.
"Ouch!" He complained. Turning, ready to hit her with the misshapen weapon again but before her could-
"Oh Fitz, look!” She said brightly, curls tangled and standing at weird angles, "The Sun’s out!"
She pulled the thin curtain back, light flooding into the small room, blinding Fitz.
"We should probably start heading out." She stated.
The managed to make the first plane out that morning and made a great impression on an Agent Coulson, who offered them each a coveted spot on his team, despite the shadows under their eyes and the incessant yawning.
Fitz managed to keep his crabby attitude in check, and only snapped at Jemma four times the whole day. Which wasn't too different from a normal day.
Next time, they both decided, next time they would insist on getting two beds.