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As the credits for the documentary faded to black and Fitz's head rested against hers, Jemma thought there was no place she would rather be, on Earth or otherwise. How perfect was it when it was just them and silence, with no human or Inhuman catastrophe threatening to ruin everything?
Well, not completely perfect. A stray thought kept poking at the back of her mind, causing waves in her pool of contentment. But it would be perfect soon enough.
"Fitz," she breathed, "do you ever think about the quaternary structure of proteins?"
That was enough to make him tilt his head up to look down at her. "Um, not often. Why?"
Jemma only smiled, burying herself into the space between his neck and shoulder. "Oh, I was just thinking that it's a lot like us."
She didn't have to see him to know that there was now a crease between his eyebrows.
"How, exactly?"
"Well," she said, threading her fingers through his, "if you think about it, we were a very natural primary structure."
"Hmm," said Fitz, probably furrowing his brow.
"A primary structure is just amino acid sequences, Fitz."
"Yeah, of course it is."
She rolled her eyes and grinned to herself. "Right, well, as you know, after primary structure comes secondary structure."
He nodded somewhere above her. "Obviously."
"Obviously, and the secondary structure is made of protein chains."
"I did take chemistry, Simmons. As you recall."
She recalls this glazed-over eyes during lecture, but doesn't remark on it. "And those protein chains need chaperone enzymes to make sure the protein chains fold properly into tertiary structure. If the proteins fold incorrectly, it can lead to all sorts of problems—even cancer. But if it's done right, the proteins can go into a healthy tertiary and even quaternary structure."
"Yes, Simmons," he said, sounding a bit sleepy when his head once again rested against hers, "but what has that got to do with us?"
She had to take a deep breath then, because talking about complex proteins was easy, but feelings? Well, she was learning. "We were at tertiary structure before. Very capable. Very stable. But we mutated. You got injured, and I was confused and we—we got knocked back down to primary structure again. We had to rebuild, except we didn't have the guidance, the chaperones that we had before, so we were folding into the wrong structure. And for a long time it looked like we were going to cause plaque in the cell or even worse, but when we got broken down again, when we truly had no one to trust but each other, we got a chance to start over, and we did it right. And now we're even farther than we were before! We're quaternary!"
She relaxed against him as the thrill of success flooded her veins. Now, she thought, the moment was perfect.
But she felt Fitz's eyelashes brush against her hair, and in a moment he had once again lifted his head from hers, but this time with such force that she found herself looking up at him.
"Did you—" He closed his eyes and took a breath. "This is about what I said, isn't it? About you not being romantic? You just gave me a chemistry lecture to prove to me that you are romantic?"
She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her gaze at him. "Well," she said, "I—"
"Because it's far too complicated for romance, Simmons. It's a nice sentiment, but too elaborate. Real romance strikes you at the heart."
She rolled her eyes at him and returned to her place on his shoulder. "Fine, then," she said, "but I don't see you doing any better."
Fitz cleared his throat, and she had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes again. "We," he said, "are like a monotonically increasing unbounded function. Always becoming more than we were, even when things go a little sideways."
Jemma scoffed, but he only nudged her with his shoulder. "Admit it, Jemma. I am the king of romance."
"I admit no such thing."
"Well," he said, "you may not admit it, but you know it. So I hope this is the end of this whole romantic competition . . . thing."
She honestly tried to respond with a remark that was equally playful and cutting, but it was so hard when he was so adorably earnest, and when she was still genuinely moved by the sheer beauty of his metaphor. Did he, truly, think they were a collection of intersecting x's and y's that went up and up into infinity? He was too sincere to be doubted. So she chose to drop the subject instead, dropping a kiss onto his chest and simply enjoying being next to him.
She had to smile to herself, though, even she felt her body truly relax against his. He may think this was the end, but it was only the beginning.