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Jemma was standing at one of the lab tables, her attention divided between a microscope and an open text, when Daisy called for her.
“Simmons?”
Jemma lifted her head and grinned at her friend, an expression that faltered when she saw the two men enter the room behind Daisy.
“Hello,” she said slowly. “Something I can help you with, Daisy?”
Daisy’s smile was apologetic. “These are the new lab assistants Coulson mentioned on Monday.”
“Oh! Right. I’m afraid in all the rush I quite forgot.” Which was more to say that she thought they’d convinced Coulson that they didn’t want any more lab assistants, but apparently that wasn’t the case.
“Gentlemen, this is your new boss. Well, one of them anyway. Jemma, this is …”
“Martin Delacour,” the dark haired one interrupted, smiling.
“Jeff Thomas,” the redhead said next.
From behind the two (clearly enthusiastic) men, Daisy arched her eyebrows at a bewildered Jemma and tried to stifle a grin.
“Yes, well. I’m Dr. Simmons, and I’m pleased to meet you both.” She hoped that they caught on to the way she’d introduced herself – last name and title rather than something informal – and that they could understand nuance. She’d hate for things to be awkward from the start. “I’m afraid my partner is out on field duty at the moment, so you’ll have to make your introductions later.”
Which would be interesting, Jemma knew, because Fitz had lobbied heatedly not to fill the positions that had just opened in the lab due to recent promotions and position changes.
“I think we’re missing one,” Daisy said then. “There’s supposed to be three of you, but I think someone’s departure was delayed. Why don’t I go check on that while you …” Daisy made a vague waving motion with one hand. “Do whatever.”
Jemma glared at her friend. Daisy only smirked in response, confirmed that she would see Jemma later that evening for dinner – which she knew would turn in to a good berating for dropping the new guys in Jemma’s lap and then disappearing – and left.
Which left Jemma standing in the middle of the lab with the new guys watching her like puppies. She opened her mouth to speak and was promptly cut off by the redhead – John? No, Jeff – who seemed to be the more effusive of the two.
“This is like a dream come true,” Jeff nearly gushed. “Getting to work with thee Doctor Simmons. I mean, you’re a legend at the Academy. Well, you and Dr. Fitz. Do you not work together anymore?”
Jemma didn’t know whether to sigh in exasperation or squirm uncomfortably.
“Oh, well, I hardly think legend is the right word …”
“Jeff,” Martin intervened. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”
Rather than get angry like Jemma assumed he would, Jeff snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. He narrowed his eyes at Jemma as though he were studying her, and Jemma was about to fidget when his expression cleared suddenly.
“I apologize, Dr. Simmons. Making you uncomfortable was not my intention.”
Jemma did a double take at the sudden change. His speech patterns, which had been enthusiastic and informal just moments before, had changed entirely: his tone was strictly regulated and his words were delivered precisely.
She opened her mouth to reply and found that she couldn’t think of anything to say.
Martin came to the rescue once again. “May I?” he asked Jeff. When the redhead nodded, Martin looked at Jemma and explained. “Jeff has a mild form of Asperger’s. He excels at science, but his social skills aren’t the best. We’re working on it. Right, Jeff?”
“Right.”
Jemma exhaled and found a smile pulling at her lips. “Well, thank you for being straight forward, Jeff. Apology accepted. Now, if you’ll both wait there just a moment I’ll put this sample away and give you a tour while we wait for your missing counterpart. It’s lunch time so your coworkers are out for a bit, but I’ll introduce you later.”
Glad to have a moment to herself to process the last few seconds of her life, Jemma stepped away and hurried to button up her work. She scribbled a few pertinent notes into her lab notebook and then cleared away the petri dish and stored the microscope, then pulled off and discarded her rubber gloves. She’d have to be sure to catch Fitz as soon as he returned and make it clear that he would have to be on his best behavior with the new assistants – and she’d have to give herself enough time to field his argument of, “but I’m always on my best behavior, Jemma, it’s not my fault I have to yell at them. They’re idiots, the lot of them.”
“Well, come on then,” Jemma said some minutes later. “Have you eaten? I’m afraid the base is bigger than it looks.”
“We’re fine, thanks,” Martin replied.
“Great. This way, please.”
Fitz was not going to be happy.
As fate would have it, Fitz stepped out of the cargo bay of Zephyr One just moments after Jemma had led the new assistants out of the lab. He was exhausted, but the perennial motion and energy of the aircraft hangar energized him enough to keep him on his feet for a while longer. That, and the knowledge that he was home, and that Jemma was somewhere in the halls of the Playground at that very moment.
Bobbi nudged his shoulder with one of hers. The duffel bag full of tactical gear and samples made a shuffling sound as the motion made it scratch over the material of his shirt.
“The first words outta your mouth better be an explanation,” Bobbi informed him.
Mack and Hunter appeared on Fitz’s other side. Hunter was grinning.
“Honestly, Bob, she’s half your size.”
“And terrifying when she wants to be,” Mack added. “She was none too happy about having to sit this one out. I wouldn’t want to antagonize her more either.”
“I told you guys, it’s nothing. Looks worse than it is.”
“Right,” Bobbi agreed. “Just be sure to tell Jemma that, okay? She made me promise I’d watch your back.”
“And maybe remind her this is the last mission she has to miss out on,” Mack said.
“May did say her arm seemed fine. Passed her small arms certification with top marks.” Hunter sounded like a proud father.
Fitz shook his head at his friends, though they had offered good points. Jemma had broken her arm a little more than two months ago on a routine mission gone wrong, and it was true what they said about doctors: they really did make the worst patients.
“You’re ridiculous,” Fitz told them for good measure. “The lot of ya.”
Fitz couldn’t resist a smile though as they disembarked together. His head did ache a little, truth be told, but it was nothing that some Ibuprofen and a nap wouldn’t fix. Jemma would be less than pleased, of course, but they’d both survived worse.
As Fitz and the team were heading for the door a small Learjet taxied into the hangar. There was no logo or identifying marks, but the tail number was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s.
“Who d’ya suppose that is?” Fitz asked.
“No idea,” Bobbi answered. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting some new personnel this week? Maybe that’s them.”
“Who cares?” Hunter said simultaneously. “I’m starving.”
Fitz was quiet as they made their way out of the hangar. He listened to his friends conversing and grinned when Mack and Hunter devolved into an argument about how often Hunter ate (and how terrible his choice of food often was) and shared a commiserating look with Bobbi when Hunter tried to call her in for backup – only to have her take Mack’s side.
As much as he enjoyed the camaraderie, though, he was ready to divest himself of his gear and find Jemma. They hadn’t been gone that long – they’d been running a short range op and only left last night – but Fitz was tired and feeling Jemma’s absence keenly.
“Explanations first,” Bobbi called after Fitz when he was free to finally navigate his way to the lab.
“Yeah, yeah,” Fitz muttered.
Unfortunately, the lab was empty when Fitz entered. Well, it wasn’t quite empty: three men and a woman were in the far corner, arranged in a horseshoe formation and apparently deep in conversation. The only one that Fitz recognized was the woman: her name was Avery, and she and Jemma had become quite good friends during her forced convalescence. She was one of the only lab assistants that Fitz didn’t want to yell at on a constant basis.
Which had nothing to do with the fact that Jemma liked her, of course.
Fitz sighed and approached Jemma’s workstation to occupy himself while he waited for her to return. She had an older text stored neatly in one corner; it was the same one she’d ordered last week to aid her in her effort to determine what the latest biological sample Fitz had brought her from the field was. Jemma’s latest hypothesis was that it was Asgardian in nature.
Fitz was pulled from his thoughts by the excited voice of one of the unfamiliar men.
“I can’t believe we’re finally here!” The man speaking had red hair that Fitz could just see through the shelf full of glass bottles in front of him.
“It’s just a lab,” another man said.
The redhead guffawed. “It’s not just a lab, Martin! It’s the lab, run by Drs. Fitz and Simmons. They’re legends! This is why I graduated top of my class. So I could have my first choice of field assignment.”
“Legends?” Avery repeated.
The dark haired one – Martin, Fitz thought – shrugged and nodded casually. “They’ve got a bit of a reputation at the Academy. Youngest to graduate, decorated careers in the agency …”
“Responsible for the death of Grant Ward and resulting downfall of Hydra,” the unnamed man added.
Fitz simultaneously froze in place and bristled silently. Ward’s ultimate fate was not common knowledge – their part had been included in an official report to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s board of directors, as was necessary, but outside of official channels the only people that knew about what happened were the team. How the …
“How the hell do you know that?” Avery asked.
The unnamed man grinned. The expression was cocky, and all at once Fitz was reminded of Daisy in her first days on the Bus.
“Jemma Simmons is a stupid hot scientist, who also happens to be a spy, who is also responsible for killing the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s evil twin. It’s my job to know these things.”
In his place concealed at Jemma’s work station, Fitz curled a hand into a fist and clenched his jaw.
Jeff huffed in irritation. “Kip’s a hacker when he’s not being a biologist.”
“But he’s always a douche,” Martin supplied.
“Fuck off, Martin. My point is, I agree with Jeff. This isn’t your run of the mill base, and these aren’t your run of the mill agents. There’s a reason the spots here are waitlisted until the end of time.”
There was a pause before Avery asked, “What’s your field of expertise, Martin? Jeff’s a physicist …”
“And engineer,” Jeff interrupted.
“… And Kip is a biologist slash hacker. What are you?”
“Chemist,” Martin answered.
Fitz felt his blood pressure rise. These were the new lab assistants Coulson had insisted they have, that Fitz had argued against; these were the people that were going to be working with them every day. First day on the base and one of them was already reducing Jemma to an object, a two dimensional caricature of the person Fitz knew her to be. And the bloke hadn’t even mentioned all of Jemma’s degrees. Fitz was not happy.
“Where are the dynamic duo?” Kip queried.
“Dr. Simmons is in a meeting,” Jeff said authoritatively. “We haven’t seen Dr. Fitz.”
“She said her partner was out in the field,” Martin offered. “She didn’t say it was Fitz, though.”
“Dr. Fitz,” Avery corrected off-hand. “He’s your superior.”
Fitz decided then and there that Jemma was right to favor the other woman.
“In rank and intellect,” Kip added slyly.
Oh, Fitz was looking forward to yelling at this Kip character.
The sound of footsteps just then made Fitz turn to face the door behind him just in time to see Jemma round the corner. She had that preoccupied look on her face she always had when she was thinking hard about something (usually science related) and her gaze was directed at her feet. Fitz’s irritation bled away at the sight of her; the lab assistants were forgotten.
Jemma raised her eyes and found him immediately. Her whole face transformed into a smile.
“Fitz!” Then she caught sight of the angry red gash near his hairline, and the smile turned into a frown. “What happened to your head?”
Jemma crossed the room in several quick strides, crowding right into Fitz’s space and pinning him against the lab table. Her hands were on his face before Fitz could respond, one taking up residence on his cheek and the other fluttering concernedly near his injury.
“It’s fine, Jemma, I’m fine,” Fitz said quickly.
“Oh, honestly, Fitz. I told Bobbi …”
“To watch my back, and she did.”
Jemma was only half-listening, intent as she was on cataloguing the wound. Fitz knew that she wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d let her thoroughly check him out, so he held his tongue. He did bring his hands up to rest on her hips, though, and he took a deep breath that brought the smell of her shampoo to his nose. By the time Jemma was done inspecting him, a piece of paper wouldn’t have fit between them.
“It’s superficial,” Jemma announced finally. “You’re lucky you don’t need stitches.”
“Satisfied?” Fitz asked.
“Hardly. I should check you for a concussion …”
“Jemma.” Fitz slid his hands over her hips and around to lock against her lower back, effectively securing her against him. He kissed her once, twice, and then offered her a reassuring smile. “Bobbi checked for a concussion on the plane. I’m fine, I promise. Or I will be with a shower and some food.”
“Oh! Tonight is Lincoln’s birthday dinner. Should I tell Daisy we can’t make it?”
“’Course not. Avery?”
Jemma would certainly chide him later for what he did next, but Fitz didn’t care. He turned his head and waited for Avery to appear at the end of the table like he knew she would, and was smugly satisfied when the three new assistants appeared behind her.
“What’s up?” Avery asked.
“Let Daisy and Lincoln know we might be late?”
“Might?” Avery prodded.
“It’s not like they’re ever on time anyway,” Fitz explained.
Jemma huffed out a chuckle and shook her head. Neither she nor Fitz had made any attempt to move, and he could see the confusion on the newcomers’ faces. It wasn’t every day you showed up to a new workplace and found your bosses wrapped around each other, Fitz supposed.
Just then, Jeff cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Dr. Simmons, but is this normal? Is there something we’re missing?” Then he turned to Martin for clarification. “Martin?”
Martin just shrugged.
Jemma cleared her throat and blushed before extracting herself carefully from Fitz’s arms. “I apologize, Jeff. It’s only normal when we’re off duty, which Fitz technically is …”
“Actually, you are too,” Avery informed her. She shucked her head at the clock on the far wall. “As of fifteen minutes ago.”
Jemma beamed at her friend. “Yes, well. We’re the picture of professionalism on duty, I assure you.”
To which Avery and Fitz both responded by laughing. “That’s being a bit forgiving,” Fitz said.
“I’m sorry,” Jeff interjected again, and Fitz was surprised to find that he genuinely seemed so. “I don’t understand. Are you sexual partners, then?”
Behind Jeff, Martin groaned in embarrassment. “Jeff, we gotta work on your conversation skills, dude.”
The question was asked stiffly but with sincerity, and though Jemma squirmed a bit she didn’t seem put off by the question. There was definitely something that she knew that Fitz didn’t, and he resolved to ask her about in a private moment.
Now, Jemma pulled the long chain out from beneath her shirt and held it out so that Jeff could see the rings looped around it. “We’re married,” Jemma explained.
Jeff’s expression cleared. “Oh! That makes perfect sense.”
Kip’s expression, however, reminded Fitz of someone who’d just downed a gallon of spoiled milk. “Married?”
“What, that wasn’t in your hacked personnel file?” Martin whispered gleefully.
Any response Kip might have offered was sidelined by Hunter’s appearance. “Oy, how come you two can snog in the lab?”
“It’s our lab, thank you very much,” Jemma retorted.
“I’ve been sent to take over babysitting duty. You the kids?” Hunter punctuated the words by shoving his hands in his pockets and studying the unfamiliar faces.
“We’re not kids,” Kip retorted.
Hunter raised his eyebrows. “Hardly outta diapers, are ya?”
“Be nice, Hunter.” Jemma’s tone brooked no argument. She glared at him until he held his hands up in surrender. “Good. C’mon, Fitz.”
The group watched the married couple as they made their way out of the lab. Jemma slipped the long chain over her head and unhooked the clasp to hand Fitz his ring back and slip hers on.
“I need a nap,” they heard Fitz grouse. “Getting too old for this.”
“Leo Fitz,” Jemma snapped with no real heat. “You are thirty three years old …” the rest of her reprimand was lost as they disappeared down the hall.
“How long do you think he was standing there listening to us?” Kip asked after a minute.
“Why?” Hunter asked.
Martin grinned at Kip’s expense. “Long enough to hear you call his wife stupid hot.”
Hunter whistled lowly. “You what? That’s bad form, mate, and Fitz doesn’t like your lot as it is.”
“He seemed all right to me,” Jeff countered.
“He is,” Avery agreed with a quick smile. “He’s got a bit of a temper, but he’s a good guy.”
“Protective of his wife, though,” Hunter said.
“They’re protective of each other,” Avery adjusted.
“And you hacked Dr. Simmons’ personnel file,” Martin directed at Kip.
Hunter narrowed his eyes at the other man. “What now?” The good humor had left his face, and he approached Kip with a subtly threatening stance. “All jokes aside, mate, Jemma’s family. Whatever you found in that file is private, yeah? You tell one person – you put one foot outta line and Fitz isn’t the only one you’ll have to check under your bed for. Ya follow?”
Kip swallowed and nodded slowly. Just like that Hunter’s expression was neutral again, and he slapped Kip on the back (a little harder than was strictly necessary, perhaps, but Kip wasn’t going to complain).
“Great. Let’s get outta here.”
Kip waited until Hunter was several feet in front of him to grumble, “Well this should be fun.”
Behind him, Avery laughed. Jemma was gonna have her hands full keeping Fitz from eating the kid alive.