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It was well past midnight, barely above freezing, and the rain tapping on the nylon of Jemma’s tent wasn’t helping matters. She had just psyched herself up enough to slip out of her sleeping bag in search of another pair of socks when the much-used tent finally gave up the ghost, opening at the seam where Kim Johnson had shoved the pole too roughly through the channel while “helping” Jemma set it up.
Water poured inside, right in the center of her sleeping bag, which she hadn’t closed properly enough for the water-repellant outside to be of any use.
She sighed, closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, and tried to wrangle her sleep-deprived brain into submission. She couldn’t stay in a leaky tent. She needed to stay warm, or she’d risk hypothermia, and that was not how she wanted to get out of finishing the expedition. Besides, she didn’t really want to get out of the expedition anyway—just the camping. The rest of it would be worth it. Learning about the possibility of alien rock formations in the Smoky Mountains was certainly going to be worth camping and hiking.
But right now it was hard to remember that, because she was sleepy and cold and frustrated. Her first thought was Fitz, but a few knowing looks and assuming comments around the campfire made her a little less certain she wanted to give anyone more ammunition for teasing. But Kim was sharing her tent with her boyfriend, so she was not an option, and there wasn’t really anyone else she could see herself sharing a sleeping bag with.
And Fitz would be warm. And gruff and pliant with sleepiness. But he’d let her climb in with him. Forget what anyone else would say. They knew where they stood with each other, and that was all that was important.
Another pair of socks later, she shoved her aching, blistered feet into her shoes and limped over to Fitz’s tent, crawling inside as quietly as she could. She ran her fingers through her hair, dragging out the raindrops that had caught in it and making her fingers wet and cold. The chill clung to her back and arms, and she felt her teeth starting to chatter as she removed her shoes.
Fitz hated camping with a passion. If it wasn’t for Jemma and her bloody fascination with field work, he’d be at home, curled in his own bed, instead of tossing and turning on an uncomfortably hard surface. The sleeping bag didn’t do much to pad the ground, and the incessant tapping of the rain outside in combination with the cold and damp wasn’t helping either. He’d been grumpy all day, snappish and uncommunicative, and would be even worse tomorrow if he didn’t get some decent sleep.
When Jemma crawled into his laughably small “three person” tent, his back was to her. She was quiet enough that if he’d been asleep, he probably wouldn’t have known Jemma was there, but Fitz was barely dozing. And the rush of cold air that accompanied her would have tipped him off at any rate.
Curious, since there hadn’t been any ruckus around the campsite to indicate something was wrong, Fitz fumbled in the sleeping bag to turn over to face her. His blue eyes dark and shadowed, half-shut with sleepiness, he peered at her in the dim light from the battery powered lantern he’d left on to cut the loneliness and cold atmosphere in the tent. “Wha’s wrong, Jemma?” he asked quietly, unable to get a good look at her face.
“Oh, did I wake you?” she asked. “Sorry. I was trying to be quiet. Nothing’s wrong. Well. Nothing’s wrong-wrong. It’s just my bloody tent. One of the seams came open and dumped rain water all over my sleeping bag. Okay if I crawl in with you?” She said it all very quickly, stripping off her shoes and scooting over to him, chafing her hands to warm them up lest she surprise him into turning her out. Not that he would actually turn her away, probably, but it was always easier to keep from upsetting him too much, if only to avoid the complaints.
“I’d have t’ be asleep for y’ to wake me,” he muttered, watching as she tugged off the shoes and crawled across the narrow space between them. Her tent shouldn’t have just fallen apart like that, and he wanted to scold her for not checking it over before they came out on this trip, but there wasn’t anything Jemma could do about it now. If her sleeping bag was wet, it’d be days before it was dry if the weather didn’t improve, and Jemma was always cold regardless. She’d never be able to sleep if she couldn’t get warm.
Fitz sighed and reached for the zipper on his sleeping bag. “Alright, come on,” he gestured her in, looking a little wary. It had been a long time since they’d snuggled together to sleep, not since they’d graduated from SciTech. “Don’t you dare take those socks o
ff. You an’ I both know you’ll wake me up tryin’ t’ warm your feet back up.”
She bit her lips, shooting him a slightly guilty smile as she removed her fingers from her socks and shrugged out of her bulkiest sweater. As she maneuvered herself into the sleeping bag, she was slightly relieved to find Fitz had slept in flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt. Boxers might have been a bit of a quick re-acquaintance, given that it had been a good two or three years since she’d slept next to him. The last time, in fact, had been the night before graduation. They’d been so in each other’s skin by that time, it hadn’t felt weird to be separated by such flimsy layers of clothing.
But it had been a while, and the contrast was a bit startling as she snuggled in, insinuating a leg between his and tucking herself against him. He was warm as ever, even through the shirt and hoodie, but he’d definitely grown a bit. His metabolism had slowed down too. There was just a slight hint of consequences to his incessant snacking, though it really only served to make him more of a normal size. He’d always been a bit bony. Now, he was a bit more padded, and she wasn’t the only one providing a bit of softness to their snuggling.
“I think you might be an independent heat source. We should make you a standard part of expedition gear.”
Fitz snorted out a laugh. Every time she got this close to him Jemma made some comment about how warm he was. It was such a habit, he honestly thought he’d miss if she stopped. He shook his head at her and reached around her to tug the zipper back up, sealing them into the sleeping bag. It was snug, having the two of them crammed in, and Fitz had to tug her a little closer, his arms winding around her, to find a comfortable position.
“Well, if someone hadna managed t’ soak her sleeping bag, she wouldna need an independent heat source, now would she?” Fitz chided her, voice soft now that she was right there next to him. Jemma had snuggled down a bit further than necessary into the bag so only the top bit of her head was visible, her head laid low against his shoulder, warm breath transferring through his shirt onto his chest. “Can y’ even breathe properly down there, lass?”
“She didn’t soak her sleeping bag. The rain water soaked her sleeping bag. Which wouldn’t have happened if Johnson hadn’t been trying to show off how much she knows about camping.” She pressed her nose firmly under his clavicle, fingers creeping around his waist, then up his back to curve up over his shoulder, looking for a placement that was both comfortable and warm. At this rate, she’d end up sleeping on top of him. Which might actually be a first. They’d snuggled and sprawled and spooned, and she’d fallen asleep in his lap once, on a particularly long car ride, but never actually managed to get themselves in quite that intimate a position.
“I can sort of breathe,” she said. “I think eventually the need to breathe will outweigh the need to be warm and I’ll come up for air.”
He chuckled again, tipping his head so his chin rested against her hair. “This isn’t going t’ work is it?” Fitz reached to catch at her hands where she kept fidgeting. “Turn over,” he suggested. “There’s not enough room in here t’ sleep like this. Unless y’ want t’ be the big spoon, or have another idea.” He didn’t have much preference. Once they got into a good position, there wasn’t usually much to complain about with having Jemma snuggled in close to him. Unless her feet or hands were cold and she went digging under his clothes to find bare skin to warm them against.
It had been long enough since they’d slept together that Fitz had almost forgotten - or convinced himself he’d forgotten - just how much he liked this. The warmth of her pressed against him, the affectionate way she curled into his touches. Jemma was never as tactile with him as she was when she was sleepy or cold, and sometimes he missed it dreadfully.
“I’d rather my back be cold than my front,” she murmured. “So either let me be the big spoon or, I don’t know, I’ll sleep on top of you.” She pinched a bit of fat on his side. “I’m not so scared of crushing your ribcage anymore.” She teased, already giggling as she looked up to see his reaction.
He twitched away from her pinching fingers with a scowl. “Hey! Stop that!” It was too late and he was too sore and cold to have her teasing him. Grumbling to himself, Fitz wriggled onto his back, wincing when a muscle pulled as he twisted. “Fine then, c’mon,” he muttered, shifting his arms out of the way so Jemma could crawl over his body.
“Too manly to be the little spoon, grumpy bear?” she teased again, and pulled herself up over his chest, settling and re-settling and wondering whether this was meant to be a bit embarrassing, or if it was just her. She had the most trouble figuring out what to do with her legs. Straddling his would probably be the most comfortable, but also the most potentially problematic. Sliding a leg between his could get uncomfortable for him, and also be problematic. She sighed, deciding it was best to just deal with the fact that she had his thighs between hers like adults, and settled her head on his chest. “Well. That’s new and awkward. Ah well.”
Fitz made a face. “I’ve been little spoon before and y’ know i’,” he retorted, but his voice went soft and even a little shy. “I just thought y’ might be more comfortable if y’ werena laying on the ground. Is no exactly comfortable.” He waited while she wriggled around, understanding her hesitation of where to put her legs, but he stopped Jemma when she tried to straddle him. “Your legs willna thank y’ for that tomorrow. Just lay whichever way’s most comfortable,” Fitz urged her to settle the way she’d started, one leg tucked between his, Fitz’ thigh riding up between her legs.
“Mmh, that actually is more comfortable,” she sighed, crossing her arms over his chest and resting her chin on her wrists. It was comfortable, actually, if a little more intimate than they usually got. There were few enough secrets between them anyway--it wasn’t like this would be the first time his leg had been there. Her nose tapped against his chin, her hair spilling across her shoulders. “It will be interesting to see who gives us confused looks tomorrow.”
“It’s no’ like that’s new, Jem,” he reminded her, one arm curled up under his head, the other wrapped around her waist. She was going to drive him crazy laying like this, but it also wouldn’t be the first time he’d ever gotten an erection while snuggled with her.
Fitz still got embarrassed remembering the first time it had happened. What had she called it? ‘An inevitable physiological response to external stimuli’ or something like that. He’d felt like one of her lab experiments for a moment rather than a guy reacting to a beautiful woman cuddling up to him - and it had firmly driven the nail in the coffin of Fitz ever getting a chance with her.
Instead he’d focused on just being Jemma’s friend, and while he still occasionally thought about her that way, he’d mostly moved on. Enough to date elsewhere, at least. For a while her pestering and trying to set him up with her acquaintances had been like salt in a wound. It was enough that she trusted him more than anyone else - was the first person she’d come to when she had trouble, even when it was something as silly as soaking her sleeping bag.
“Still, there are people we’ve told a thousand times who still don’t believe us.” She stretched a little, re-settling on top of him so the curves of her chest and stomach fitted more comfortably against him. Through his shirt and hoodie, she could feel the warmth radiating from him. There were moments like these, when they were standing close, touching in one way or another, when she became aware of how little really separated them from each other. A few layers of thin cotton or synthetic fiber, most of it warm and slightly compromised by sweat or, in her case, rainwater. The way they were stretched out here, with him under her--whatever they claimed--like a lover, it occurred to her that the only thing keeping them from being just that was a few millimeters of fabric and a moment of crazy bravery.
“Sometimes I’m not certain I believe us,” she said. “Are we being idiots, or are they being narrow-minded in their view of friendship, assuming a guy and a girl can’t just be friends? Would it necessarily support the assumption if we… well, if we were more? Do I need to shut up and go to sleep because it’s too late for this?”
What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Fitz’ mind raced, not wanting to push where he wasn’t wanted. The best he could do was pretend it was a hypothetical question, not that Jemma was genuinely asking what it sounded like she was asking. “They’re being narrow-minded,” he said finally. “There’s no reason we canna be just friends. We’re both reasonable adults who can make a choice like that on our own without anyone else gettin’ in the middle of it.”
The words hurt to say, especially now, especially with Jemma laid out above him, the floral scent of her shampoo filling his nose. Not for the first time Fitz wondered what she would do if he slid the hand resting over her back under her top to rest warm and heavy against her skin, tipped her chin up to lay kisses over her face. Still, she meant too much and he couldn’t risk it.
He hadn’t answered all her questions. Not the one that explained why there was warmth stirring in her belly, or why the shape of his upper lip was starting to drive her mad with the need to test it. His heat was leeching up into her, winding around her and stilling the shivering. She still felt a little cold at the tips of her fingers and toes, on the back of her neck.
She wanted to know what he would do--what he felt and whether there was any chance they could be more than friends without jeopardizing the closeness they already had.
Well, she was a scientist by nature.
She steeled herself a moment, firming up her resolve and drawing on the warmth and the curiosity and the affection she already felt. Her fingers found his collarbones and she pulled herself up, hyper aware of her body’s movement against his, and sank her mouth over his.
Fitz did what any red-blooded man in the world would - he kissed her back. For all of about ten seconds before his brain kicked in and reminded him this was Jemma. As much as he really didn’t want to, he drew back, fingers in her hair and gently tucking strands back behind her ears so he could look at her.
“Jem. What are y’ doing, lass?” he asked, trying desperately to keep his voice gentle.
For all that this couldn’t happen - he couldn’t risk losing his best friend - he didn’t want to hurt her, either, and if she’d really meant to do that, she’d think he was rejecting her.
And he was. Sort of.
“Well. I. Was…” heat crept up her face, and for the first time in hours, she was well and truly warm. But it was not the kind of warmth that came from body heat, platonic or otherwise. For a few moments, there, the experiment had been going very, very well indeed. And then it had all just stopped, leaving her with a sort of shocked dizziness she couldn’t dispel and a twisting, nauseated feeling in her gut. She ducked her head, tucking her face into his shoulder. “Sorry. I’m sorry. God. Fitz. I’m sorry. Ignore me. Ignore that. I’m an idiot. I know you don’t feel that way. You bloody well just told me. And I went right ahead and ploughed past that. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey,” he murmured. “Shhh. Dinna do that, Jem. I mean… It’s not like I mind bein’ kissed, y’ know. But you’re my best friend,” Fitz chose his words carefully, not wanting to lie and say he didn’t want her, because he did. “And I love y’ dearly, but this… I’m sorry, too, lass.”
Fitz shifted beneath her, one arm around her waist, the other moving gently over her hair, soothing her with soft, repetitive strokes, petting almost. “It’s just a kiss, it’s not like is the end o’ the world. Unless you’re going t’ stop being my friend now?” He said it teasingly, trying to route her brain elsewhere, but his heart clenched tight at the very thought.
She buried herself deeper into his shoulder, pressing until her nose hurt. At his comment, she gave a humorless laugh. “Of course not,” she said. “Or course I’m not going to stop being your friend. I just...I’m so embarrassed.”
She could feel her heart flying in her chest, her pulse ratcheted up to high gear, and her face was starting to prickle. She fought down the emotional surge and forced herself to breathe deeply, counting double on the exhales. She would not let this become panic. This would not be the cause of a spiral. Fitz didn’t need that on his conscience, and it wouldn’t make her feel any better, especially if he decided the way to fix it was to kiss her when he didn’t want to. That would only make things worse.
He couldn’t miss the tension of her body under his hands, or the faint shiver he wasn’t even sure she was aware of. “Jemma, look a’ me,” he said firmly, fingers searching out her chin to nudge her up to look at him. His voice was less soft now, but measured and careful, trying to keep from feeding into what she was already feeling. “It’s okay, lass. I promise. I’m not mad at y’ and y’ havena hurt anything.”
Even though it was outside their usual boundaries of touching, Fitz leaned in to land a soft buss on the tip of her nose when she lifted her face as he asked.
Her lips trembled a bit, though she bit them as she nodded. When he kissed her nose, she almost smiled, but her chest pulsed, an unexpected lance of misery arcing from her chest to her palms. Tears skated out, and she reached up to brush them aside, sniffing, nodded more fervently as she broke his hold on her chin and pressed her face to his chest again, where she could hide and hold on. This was a horrible feeling. Worse than she would have anticipated, and she realized that, partly, it was because she never would have anticipated rejection from Fitz.
Maybe that made her a terrible friend.
“I’ll get over the embarrassment,” she murmured. “Just give me a minute to be upset. I’ll be fine, if you’re fine.”
“I’m fine. We’re fine,” Fitz reassured her. He could feel the damp heat of Jemma’s tears in his shirt, and wound his arms tight around her. Not that she could get much closer than she already was, but it made him feel a little better at least.
Knowing her misery was his fault, especially when he could so easily make it better by telling her he felt the same way, was agony. The problem was that in the long run, he didn’t think he could keep her happy. Jemma deserved better than him. Fitz cocked his head to lay his cheek against her hair, thumbs rubbing tiny arcs over her jumper, and settled in to wait her out.
She pulled herself together after a few moments. Never one to dwell on unhappiness, she gave a final sniff and tucked her hands under Fitz’s shoulders, holding herself against his shoulder and taking a deep breath. She blew out slowly. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. We can go back to normal now. Let’s just...pretend that never happened. I’ll feel better.”
Fitz shivered as her breath washed up and over his neck. “Alright, lass,” he said softly, relieved. “That never happened. Besides, everyone else thinks we’re doin’ that anyway. He craned his head to try and get a look at her face. “Ready to try an’ sleep or are y’ still unsettled?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready,” she said, turning her head down as he tried to look at her until she was certain she could look up at him and smile. When she did, she knew it still looked a little half-hearted. “Thanks, Fitz. And...Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in that situation.”
“Stop that,” he scolded her, but his voice was soft. “It’s okay, Jemma. You’re tired an’ it’s been a long day; you’re a li’l out o’ sorts. It’ll be better in the mornin’ - it always is.” Never mind that he likely wouldn’t sleep much between the uncomfortable ground below him and the sweet torture of having Jemma snuggled in atop him like this. “Just go t’ sleep.”
She nodded, settled her head more comfortably on his shoulder, and let her thumb trace absently along a wrinkle in his shirt, back and forth, until she felt her eyes closing of their own accord. She was warm now, and despite the embarrassment and pulse of hurt that always followed rejection, it had been a long day and a miserable evening, and she was exhausted.
Fitz felt her settle in, and eventually the tension ran out of her body, leaving her limp and heavy against him as she drifted into proper sleep. Jemma’s head lolled against his shoulder and he gently settled it up closer to his neck where it wouldn’t move so much and cause her pain in the morning.
He spent the rest of the night taking short cat-naps, sleeping only in the wee hours when he simply couldn’t stay awake any longer. Whatever was to come in the morning, he had her. Maybe it wasn’t in the way either of them wanted, but as long as they were still in each other’s lives, he’d take what he could get.