Chapter Text
Jemma took a breath and tried to steady herself, because really, it was no big deal.
After all, she and Fitz had been partners for months now. Surely, they had already spent dozens of late nights in the lab, and today was nothing special. Except, it was Valentine's Day. Her very first in America, and their first since they became friends.
So, if Fitz was finally going to make his move, wouldn't it be the perfect time?
It was strange, because it felt like she and Fitz had known each other forever, but at the same time, she could have sworn that they were rivals only yesterday. They'd come so far in such a short time; was it too much to hope that it could go just a little further?
She checked her reflection just once more, smoothing out the wrinkles in her argyle sweater just as she heard him come in the lab. She was more than slightly disappointed to find that he was so engrossed in his textbook that he didn't even look at her.
"I think I've made progress. How's your side coming, Simmons?"
Simmons stared at him for a second, too caught up in her thoughts to understand his question, but then she looked over her samples and groaned.
"Not well, I'm afraid. I can't make anything of these DNA strands. These fruit flies will be the death of me."
Fitz cocked his head to the side, and oh, he had no idea how handsome he was.
"What's wrong with the DNA?"
"Nothing! Everything! It's . . ." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've run the gel electrophoresis about ten times, but the strands are practically identical; they’re not separating enough for me. I'm going to be here all night."
Fitz frowned at that, folding his arms to become the perfect picture of thoughtfulness.
"Well," he finally said, "it's not due until next week. I'm sure we could—”
“Yes, but the first day we can turn it in is tomorrow, and you know how hard it is to impress Professor Woodhouse.”
Fitz blinked at her, and she folded her arms, ready to fight him on it. But instead, he nodded.
“Okay. What do you need to analyze the DNA properly? Do you want me to prepare some slides, or—”
“No, Fitz. I just . . . I wish that I had better magnification, that’s all.”
But before she could tell him that she was sure she could figure it out, he was invading her space, and she had to step out of his way as to not be run over by him. He inspected her UV camera like it was the only thing in existence, and she was too overwhelmed by the butterflies in her chest to be bothered by it. But still, his inattention to her was quite disheartening, and Jemma was starting to think that Fitz might have no interest in her at all.
(Which, really, was ludicrous, considering the fact that she was just as smart as he was, and stunningly gorgeous, if she was being honest. Still, she supposed there was no accounting for taste.)
He turned around faster than she expected, and suddenly they were face to face. She felt her breath hitch before he gave a small yelp and stepped back.
“Sorry,” he said, staring at his shoes, “it’s just—I think I can increase the magnification.” He looked up, caught her eyes, then coughed and looked away. “Wouldn’t take too long, really. Quicker than trying to get DNA to behave, I expect. So I can just—”
And before she knew it, he was pulling the camera apart, and she was left to stand there, still in her gear, watching him in shock. It seemed only an instant later when he handed her the camera and invited her to try it.
She took it cautiously, but when she went through the process again, the strands were so clear that she wanted to weep.
“I think I can do better,” he said.
“No, Fitz, this is perfect.”
“Yeah, no, but um . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut. “If I start from scratch, with proper materials, I can make this look like a pinhole camera. You’ll see.”
She couldn’t help but smile at him, but she tried to minimize the warmth in her cheeks. Really, she decided, Fitz was the best partner she could ever ask for, and if her little crush was getting in the way, she would simply have to set it aside.
But when he smiled back at her, she told herself that Rome wasn’t built in a day.
“So,” she said, finding a sudden need to twirl her hair in a way that felt unusually awkward, “do you need help writing up the paper or—”
“No, actually,” he said. He turned to grab his textbook and took a few folded pieces of computer paper out of it. “It’s all written; you just need to put in your findings.”
“What?” She took the papers out of his hand and, sure enough, the entire assignment was basically done. She looked up at him. “How did you write this before I finished my analysis?”
“Well, you already knew what the mutation was, didn’t you? You’re doing all this because our professor has the idiotic notion that we need to show our work.”
Once again, a smile broke out of its own accord, starting at one corner of her mouth and spreading to another.
“Oh Fitz, this is the best valentine anyone ever gave me. Thank you.”
Fitz blinked at her, mouth ajar for a moment before he managed to ask, "It's Valentine's Day today?"