Work Text:
“Hi, I’m Officer Bobbi Morse,” says the pretty policewoman who’s hovering around the doorway of Jemma’s lab. She has her hands folded at her waist and a dazzling smile, complete with wavy bangs and the rest of her hair pulled up into a bun. “My partner on the force dared me to come over to your lab and see if you were a recluse.”
Jemma frowns, pulling her glasses off and setting them down on the table where (hopefully) nothing toxic is bubbling or threatening to spill. “Why?”
“Hunter’s an asshole.” Bobbi shrugs. “I didn’t want to get stuck with him, given that he’s my ex-husband–long story–and, as aforesaid, an asshole.” She smiles a little brighter, teeth a brilliant white. “Now that I’m here, though, do you mind if I ask for your number?”
Jemma, of course, swears and spills some sort of radioactive fluid (Leo is much better with those things, but he had to take a “sick day” that had, he assured, absolutely nothing to do with the barista he’d been in love with for approximately seven months and who Jemma assured was totally into him) all over her workspace.
“Wow,” Bobbi says, eyebrows arched. “That vehement a ‘yes’?”
Jemma ends up scrawling her number in permanent marker all over Bobbi’s arm in response, after she’s cleaned up the possibly dangerous substance.