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“Relax, Fitz. You and I both know that it's just an old house,” Simmons tutted, tapping at her trifold tablet to direct the D.W.A.R.F.s around the dusty old living room.
“Yeah, an old creepy house,” he insisted, frowning over his shoulder at her. “Why did Coulson have to send us to an actual haunted house on Halloween of all nights?”
They both stood in the middle of the dark room filled with overstuffed sofa-chairs and antique tables, all covered in plastic sheets. It had clearly been a long time since anyone had been here, and it looked like no one had bothered to claim any of the possessions. The house was due to be condemned soon, but the number of complaints coming from the neighbours warranted at least a quick investigation in case something more was going on. Fitz and Simmons had been volunteered for the job, much to Fitz’s apparent dismay.
“Don't start spouting nonsense now,” Jemma quipped. “It's not like you actually believe there are ghosts here, do you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he didn’t notice the hint of worry edging her voice.
“‘Course not. Ghosts aren't real.” Fitz smirked, shrugging.
Jemma nodded too, satisfied. “Exactly. In all probability, it’s merely some trick that's got the locals spooked.”
The lights flickered off momentarily, and in a fit of alarm, Simmons reached out to grab Fitz’s arm. He stiffened, not being the least bit comforting, until the lights flickered on again a moment later. They both blinked and looked at each other with wide eyes, then Simmons relaxed and chuckled at herself. She was being silly. Their late-night horror marathons must be playing with her imagination.
Fitz frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Y’know, I would have felt more comfortable if one of the others could have come with us,” he said gruffly. “Perhaps May. Someone trained in defense.”
“What would we possibly need defending over? It’s just a silly old house,” Simmons huffed, feeling her bravado edge its way back into her system. “ You're being paranoid, Fitz.”
“Am not! It's common sense, Simmons,” he snapped, wandering over to the other side of the room and kicking at an old pile of papers. “Nine times out of ten, a supposed haunting turns out to be a prank or some nefarious scheme plotted out by an evil business owner. Who knows what we’ve stumbled into?”
“Fitz. This is not an episode of Scooby-Doo. This is merely an old house that, according to the neighbours, was owned by the same sweet elderly couple for decades.” She stepped carefully over a small pile of newspapers and tested a lamp. “In all likelihood it's just an outdated toxin in the insulation that's wreaking havoc on the air supply. If it were more dangerous than that, Coulson would have sent the rest of the team in,” she pointed out. “And it's not like May isn't just a message away if you’re really frightened.”
“Never said I was afraid, Simmons,” he countered. “Just being practical. None of the D.W.A.R.F.s are giving much in terms of readings, so your toxin theory probably doesn’t-” At that, both Fitz and Simmons’ tablets lit up with an alert of strange activity near the base of the stairs. Simmons stuck her nose in the air, then marched off to investigate.
She stood facing a blank wall and watched as the scanner sent packets of information to her tablet from Bashful. Unfortunately, the drone was not in sight, clearly having wandered into another room closeby. Fitz caught up behind her, and she smiled smugly at him.
“There. What did I tell you? No disenfranchised business-owners in costumes this time. Looks like Bashful has definitely found some sort of odd energy signature in this area of the house.”
Fitz nodded, leaning over her shoulder to look at the tablet. When she turned her head to speak to him, he shuffled back as though he’d been shocked by something. Her eyebrows snapped together, and she was just about to ask if he was okay, when he cut her off.
“Where is Bashful anyways?” Fitz clenched his jaw. “Let's just grab a sample of whatever it is and take it back to the lab so we can get out of here.”
She examined his face carefully, attempting to discern what had set off his strange mood. But his face had gone blank again, so she pursed her lips. “Yes, that’s a good idea.” Knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere with wondering, she decided to keep things chipper. “With any luck we can clear this whole thing up and be done in time for the costume party back on the bus later.”
Fitz screwed up his face, looking pained. “Right. The costume party. Almost forgot. Y’know, I think everyone else only agreed to it to get you to stop pestering them.”
She gaped at him. “Don't say that, Fitz! I’ve worked so hard on my costume!” Fitz shrugged, turning away from her down a hallway. Simmons frowned and followed close behind. “And how could you have forgotten about it? We’ve been planning this for over a week!”
Fitz opened his mouth wide like he was going to say something, then clearly thought better of it and tried again. “Dunno. Guess I’ve had other things on my mind.” Jemma stood her ground and tapped her foot, waiting for him to give her a better response than that. He rolled his eyes then ducked his head into his tablet. “You don't find it odd that Coulson insisted we investigate this clearly low-level call specifically on Halloween night? They’re trying to keep you distracted from that party.”
Simmons dropped her jaw, realizing for the first time that perhaps he was correct. None of the others seemed nearly as enthused about it as she had hoped. But she and Fiz always had fun on Halloween, and she didn’t want their foray into the field to change that for them. He didn’t say it often, but she knew he was having a difficult time adjusting.
“Well, no matter,” she shrugged. “We’ll get this done quick enough. We all could do with a bit of fun, I think. Even if we have to force it down the others’ throats!” She jabbed forcefully at her tablet, not fully registering Bashful’s latest scan.
“I suppose,” Fitz muttered. She could sense him looking over at her, so she remained as she was so she wouldn’t spook him. “I do have a whole stash of Irn-Bru Bars that mum just sent over,” he said wistfully. “It's the one time of year I can gorge on them, so it’d be nice to get back for that at least.” He let out a soft chuckle, turning his twinkling eyes on her, and she looked up to meet his grin. “Skye’s probably already found where I've hidden the box. We’ll need to get back before she eats ‘em all on me!”
Suddenly, the lightbulb went off in Jemma’s mind. Of course! “This isn’t still about Skye is it?” His smile immediately began to fade. “You know she’s decided to stay, so you can go on pining for her with your silly little crush.”
Fitz froze and dropped his mouth open. “I don’t- I never-!”
She rolled her eyes. “Please, Fitz, you’re so transparent when you have feelings for someone.”
“That’s not true!” He continued to gape at her. “And I don’t have a crush on Skye . And this isn’t even about that!” He shook his head, flustered. “There’s nothing to be about anything!”
“I’m sure,” Jemma clicked her tongue. “Just be careful. You know she is part of the team, and I don’t want this to turn out like it did with Katelin back at Sci-Ops.”
“Can we please stop talking about this?” He begged, scraping a hand across his mortified face. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just want to get out of this ridiculous house, okay?”
“You’re sure?”
He let out a heavy, irritated breath, then shot her a look.
Fitz turned his back to her. He was definitely keeping something tight to the chest, but she knew better than to push it out of him just now. He'd end up in another one of his sour moods for days.
“Fine,” she said brightly. “We’ll need to collect that sample first before we head back then. Fitz, you go check that other room while I investigate through here to see where Bashful’s gotten to.” She gestured down the hallway to the right.
“Now hold on,” Fitz stopped in his tracks. “Why are we splitting up? That’s always the first mistake in the films, you know.”
She glared at him. “The longer we stick together, the longer we stay in this house alone. Is that what you want?”
Fitz grumbled incoherently, then wandered off to the other room with his flashlight on high alert.
Fitz was doing everything in his power to keep his mind occupied on the task at hand: find Bashful, get a sample, head back to the bus. Easy. No need for any bells and whistles. No need for any awkward or extended conversations with anyone. He’d be able to get back in time for a healthy gorging of his favourite candy and hopefully drift off into a dreamless sleep. Dreamless was the key here.
Fitz stepped through the ornate and cobwebbed doorway, but instead of walking into the study as he expected, he suddenly found himself in another room entirely. The walls were a deep burgundy, and there were flickering candles all around. A large, draped bed stood in the centre of the room. The whole thing was oddly familiar…
Like a punch to the stomach, he realized exactly where he had seen this room before, and, frankly, he was surprised it had taken him so long. Last night, Fitz’s dreams had not been dreamless. For whatever reason, his brain had chosen to jumble up all of his and Simmons’ talk of Halloween and costumes, and it had spat out an altogether ridiculous scenario: In a room exactly like this one, he and Simmons engaged in a number of various compromising positions. To say things had gotten heated would be the understatement of the century. Costumes had been involved. The sexy kind.
Fitz had awoken with a start and been unable to get back to sleep. He was doing everything he could to put the whole thing from his mind… and yet here he was now, standing in the very setting of his dream, with Simmons just down the hall!
“Fi-itz…” Simmons was calling for him, and he shook his head to clear it. It almost sounded as though she was calling from within the room - from behind the heavy drapes of the bed.
“Simmons?” he replied nervously, and moved forward with a gulp. “N-no pranking, please. We’re adults now, so-” He paused as soon as he had taken his first step, and gawked up at the bed.
“Fitz… come here...” Simmons had pulled back the drapes of the bed and was lying there in nothing but a lacy negligee and a witch’s hat. “How can we pick our costumes if we don’t try them out?” she said in a distinctly sultry voice.
Fitz swallowed and found himself moving towards her. “Right. We should…” She leaned forward, her pointer finger beckoning to him in a way that was far too alluring. He licked his lips, but just as he was reaching out for her, he stumbled forward on an old box and went tumbling to the floor. He cursed vehemently under his breath.
When he straightened himself back up and dusted his knees, the sight greeting him sent a shiver down his spine. Gone were the candles and the burgundy walls and the ornate four-poster bed. In their place was the usual old, dusty room and plastic-covered furniture. The bed did not look inviting, there were no candles and definitely no Simmons.
“Fitz! Can you hear me?” She called again, this time from behind. Her tone was now far less sultry, more on the irritated side. Fitz shook his head and took a sharp breath to collect himself.
“Yeah, hold on a minute,” he squeaked. “I was just- ah...”
“Just what? I want to show you something!”
“Right- Where are you?”
Fitz sped back through the doorway as quickly as he could, desperate to get away from that strange room and… whatever it was that had just happened. They definitely needed to grab a proper sample and get out of this old house as soon as possible before there were any other strange occurrences.
Jemma heard the creak of Fitz’s footsteps on the stairs before she saw him coming, and decided to have a bit of fun. Crouching behind the bookshelves, she waited patiently for the precise moment and then - “Fitz!” she yelled, leaping out at him.
“AH!” He whirled around with a loud shout and backed up against the wall, holding his hands out uselessly as he tried to put distance between them.
A laugh burst from her lips, watching him doubled over, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry!” She covered her mouth, trying to keep a straight face when she saw how upset he was by her little prank. “I just-” she bit her lip. “I found this little nook behind the bookshelf and wanted you to see it!” She paused and centered herself. He really did seem more pale than usual. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, straightening his jacket. “If you must know, there’s definitely something strange going on. A hallucinogen of some sort must be in play because-” he stopped short.
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Because? Did you see something?”
He opened his mouth, apparently unsure sure how to proceed. She smiled encouragingly, coaxing him to go on, but he just stood there, mouth hanging open like a fish. “N- I ju- There was a- No. No, nothing strange.” She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. He shook his head, then grinned innocently. “What did you find?”
She waited a moment. Was it worth pursuing this line of questioning, or should it wait until after she showed him her own discovery? At the almost pleading look on his pale face, she opted to let this slide for the time being. “Alright,” she conceded, then rubbed her hands together in excitement. “Prepare yourself, Fitz… and stand just here!”
Jemma beamed and motioned to the circle of differently-coloured flooring, then pulled one of the lighting fixtures on the shelf. With a lurch and a groan, the floor began to rotate, and they both slowly spun around into the secret room she had found.
Fitz let out a low gasp. Bashful was still busy scanning away at the walls like she’d found him. The room was dark and musty, and there wasn’t much in there. Visible in the low light was an old suit and top hat, perched onto a wooden chair next to a small side table. She would have to remember later to theorize with Fitz how the small drone had even got into the room on his own, but first, she wanted to show him the really interesting item she’d found.
Jemma stepped forward and picked up the old book that lay innocently on the table. “Looks like it’s an old diary,” she said, lifting the cover with a gentle creak.
“Must’ve belonged to the old owners. I’m getting the feeling they were a bit eccentric.” Fitz peered around the small room, attempting to bat away at the large cobwebs near their heads. “How did you say they passed away again?”
Simmons looked up at him with an expression that said she knew what he was getting at. “According to the reports, it wasn’t anything suspicious, before you let your imagination run away with you again, Fitz.” She rolled her eyes. “The owner, Frank Mort, passed away first of a stroke, and his wife Effie went soon after of congenital heart failure. Both peacefully, at home. No unfinished business, no regrets, and a loving family left behind.”
He narrowed his eyes skeptically. “And no one else was murdered here? No other secrets? I mean, they did have a secret room, so…”
“Just stop it,” she groaned. “There’s no reason to even consider them as ghosts! Even humoring your ridiculous theory for a moment, what would a happy elderly couple even need to stick around for anyways?”
Fitz huffed and plucked the book from her. “Dunno, but I bet this would tell us.” He began flipping through the pages defiantly. “Here. October 6th. ‘ Frank and I had a fight today over who should do the washing up after dinner. One of these days I’m going to snap and just murder that man!’ ” Fitz looked up and gave her a very knowing look, but she just rolled her eyes and shifted behind him to peer over his shoulder. Simmons shook her head and pointed at the pages in his hands.
“But keep reading…” She reached out and held the book with him, her hands resting behind his. He was far warmer than usual, and he flinched away to let her have the book to herself. He really was being particularly touchy today. Perhaps he was mad at her about something.
“Luckily,” she read, “Frank and I have always had our policy of not going to sleep angry. And while I can’t promise we didn’t go to bed angry, Frank and I certainly know how to let off our steam between those sheets.”
Fitz gulped audibly beside her. “Err, well. You don’t suppose that means they-”
Simmons bit her lip. “Very probably. They were a married couple, Fitz. I’m sure they mastered the art of makeup sex.” Fitz nodded, but remained uncomfortably silent, shoving his hands in his pockets as she read on. “And all other kinds too, by the looks of it,” Jemma breathed. “These entries are just full of sordid exploits! It all reads like some sort of dirty romance novel.” She raised her eyebrows into her hairline. “I can see why they kept this hidden from their family. It’s like their own private Kama Sutra!”
“The Kama - what?”
“Oh, Fitz.” Her expression softened.
“Well-” he put his hands on his hips, “what’s the last entry? Maybe that’ll give us a clue about what’s going on here.”
Simmons shrugged and flipped to the last page, glancing up at him. “ Frank has been gone for three months and I miss him every day, ” she read quietly. “ And I find I’m angry at him more than anything. How dare he leave me alone like this? It’s agonizing. There’s only one thing that ever helped us move past our anger, and I can’t do that without him. If I had one wish, it would be that I could make love to my husband one last time. ”
Fitz and Simmons were both silent for a moment, and then Fitz cleared his throat. “Well. That’s almost sweet. In a way…”
Suddenly, the tablet Simmons had placed on the table started lighting up with a number of readings and Bashful whizzed across the room to hover near the book.
“Goodness, it’s getting hot!” Simmons exclaimed, gripping the edges of the cover.
“Jemma, you should put that down…”
“I know, but I can’t, Fitz,” she said breathlessly. “For some reason, I can’t let- Oh! Oh…” She gasped, her breaths growing heavy.
Fitz tried to move towards her, concerned, but she shot him a look that told him to keep away. She shut her eyes tight and stepped back, leaning against the wall, using it to hold herself up. She let out a low groan, twisting her head away from Fitz so she couldn’t see him watching her like that.
Her knees weakened, and it was like a thousand bolts of electricity were going off in her mind. Warmth rushed through her, pooling somewhere deep. She bit her lip and her breath hitched. Heat curled down her spine, spreading through her.
That’s when she felt Fitz’s concerned hand on her shoulder, and she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. She tilted her head, and pressed herself closer to the wall, her back arched. She gripped the book in one hand, bringing it up against the wall, biting at the corner of the pages, trying to gain control or lose control - she wasn’t entirely sure which. She was sure Fitz must be alarmed, and she should probably be concerned herself, but she was most definitely otherwise occupied with other sensations at the moment.
When she let out one final shuddering gasp, he reached around and grabbed the book off of her, throwing it to the floor. At that precise moment, Bashful let out a pitiful bleep and fell from the air, out of power - as did the rest of their flashlights and equipment, all dead.
“...Simmons?” Fitz asked nervously from the other side of the room.
She stood facing the wall in the darkness, trying to catch her breath. What had just happened? She cleared her throat, collecting herself. “S-sorry. Not sure what came over me. Definitely need to take a sample of that journal back to the lab.”
Fitz said nothing, but tried to let their predicament sink in for her a bit. “I’m sure we can once the power comes back on, Simmons, but…”
“Right.” They stood in the dark, not even Bashful emitting any light. “Do you think it was an EMP?” she asked, but Fitz didn’t respond. “Well, we should probably find some candles while we wait.”
“You sure you’re okay? We should go back and get the others to be sure. Clearly something funny is going-”
“Don’t be silly, Fitz,” she cut him off. “Once we get that sample, I’m sure it’ll just indicate an air… toxin… or something.” Her head felt rather fuzzy, like a part of her brain had gone somewhat numb. Shaking her head to clear it, she decided there was no need to worry Fitz. She was sure she would be back to normal in a moment, once whatever that diary had done was out of her system. “Let’s look around a bit more until Bashful can collect that sample, yeah?” She tilted her head, taunting him. “Or are you getting frightened again?”
Fitz snorted grumpily. “You sure you’re alright Simmons? I mean you did just-”
“I’m fine, Fitz!” she said quickly. “Let’s just do what we can until we can get out of here. You go check on Bashful and the others, I’ll get the candles.”
“Fine then,” he said, gruffly, and reached for the light fixture. “How does this thing work?”
She found herself standing still, not moving to help him so they could get out of the small confined space like she knew she should.
“What now?” he asked, losing patience in his worry.
“Actually I-I think you were right before,” she said inexplicably. “We shouldn’t split up…”
“Alright...” he waited, but she offered no other explanation. “We’ll both find the candles, then try to fix the dwarfs together. Better?”
“Much!” Simmons said brightly. And she did feel suddenly better. Her head was no longer fuzzy, as she’d expected. Whatever it was must have worn off, and she felt better than she had in ages, all things considered. “I think I saw some candles in one of the bedrooms!”
She stepped towards the light fixture and pulled him in close - so they would fit through the door of course. She had never noticed before how nice he smelled. She’d have to remember to ask if he was using a new shampoo. She was in such an inexplicably good mood all of a sudden that she hardly noticed what she was saying. “Oh! And Fitz, bring that hat…”
“What?”
“Just… trust me. You can use it for your costume!”
“I hardly think…” but she spun around and grabbed it quickly, pulling the light fixture to get them back through the door before he could argue any further. If they were going to be stuck here for a little bit, they might as well make the most of it.
As Fitz and Simmons wandered through the hallways, their eyes began to adjust to the darkness. That didn’t ease Fitz’s nerves any, though, and it clearly didn’t ease Jemma’s either. She was clutching very closely to him and constantly babbling on about nonsense. She only did that when she was particularly nervous.
“Have you decided what you’re doing for your costume?” she asked.
“We already discussed that, and we agreed it was going to be a surprise,” he said shortly. This was not a conversation he wanted to have at the moment, not with her holding onto him like that. Not with his dream freshly in his mind and whatever had just happened with Simmons and that diary. Strange things were definitely afoot in this house.
“Well, I can’t help but picture what you could possibly wear!” she said brightly. “You’d look rather dashing as a magician, for instance.” She thrust the hat towards him again as they passed a large mirror. “Fitz?”
Fitz stopped abruptly in the hallway, screwing up his eyes. Was the light playing tricks on him? He was certain when they walked by that mirror, out of the corner of his eye - had that been another woman next to him in a big hoop dress? Gathering his courage, he walked back to stand in front of the mirror. Simmons went with him, still clutching his arm.
She cocked her head at her reflection and smiled, adjusting her hair, but otherwise it was still Simmons. He narrowed his eyes at her and then the mirror, then shook his head and kept walking towards the bedroom where the candles supposedly were. They definitely needed a better light source.
“Fitz? Magician?”
“What?” he asked. She shook the hat in his direction and he smirked. “Right. No thank you. Don’t fancy dressing up as a professional con-artist.”
She rolled her eyes, still beaming. “Well then, what about a period costume? You know dressing like Mr. Darcy is always a big hit.”
“Mr. Who?”
“From Pride and Prejudice,” she said, aghast. “Fitz, how can you not know about him? He’s every woman’s dream man!”
Fitz snorted. “Yeah, just what I fancy being for Halloween,” he snorted. “Now that’s what I call scary.”
They had come to the room and he held his breath when they walked through the doorway. When everything still looked the same, he relaxed. Simmons let go of his arm, wandering off to the corner, and he started looking through the drawers for the candles and some matches.
“And since when have you been into all those girly movies?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “That’s very unlike you, Simmons.”
“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she said in a low voice. He stood up abruptly, a candlestick standing straight up in his hand. What was she talking like that for? Jemma grinned, then lit a match she had somehow found. She stepped closer to him, then brought the flame to the tip of the wick, letting it flicker and catch, never taking her eyes off him. He gulped. Finally, she brought the match back to her lips. Rounding them into a perfect o, she blew softly. The match went out, and Fitz let out a heavy breath.
Jemma reached her hands out to him. Taking the candlestick from him, she placed it on the table, freeing his hands only momentarily before lacing her fingers through his. He looked down and gulped again. He looked down and gulped again, his mouth very dry.
“There. So we can see each other better.”
“Right… yeah… Simmons?”
“Fitz?”
“Hold on a moment.” He blinked rapidly, then marched out of the room again. He counted to ten, then squared his shoulders and turned back around. To his utter amazement, nothing had changed when he re-entered. The candle still flickered. Simmons was still staring hungrily at him, but now she had perched herself at the edge of the bed, having removed the dust cover.
“Everything okay?” she asked sweetly.
It was oddly hot in that room for such a cold night without power. “Y-yeah, fine. Everything’s- How ‘bout you? You’re doing good?”
“I’m doing excellent,” she practically purred. “But there is one little thing you could help me with…” She was dangling the top hat from the tip of her finger, leaning forward in such a way that his eyes really only had one place to fall. “Fitz?” A mischievous smile spread across her face.
“S-Simmons?” He was very wary of her now. What was she doing?
“Put on the hat.” It was not a suggestion.
“Oh- Okay…” He wasn’t used to her being so demanding, but something about her tone made him obey immediately. “B-But then we’re grabbing the D.W.A.R.F.s so we can get out of here, okay?”
She said nothing, only smiled. So he stepped over to where she was sitting, holding the hat out to him. He took a deep breath then put the hat on his head.
“There,” he said. “Happy now? Can we g-”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because next, inexplicably, Jemma did the most surprising and unfathomable thing he had experienced all evening. She stood and pressed her hot lips to his.
It took him a moment to register what was happening. But she felt so soft and tasted so wonderful, that instead of pushing away and considering their circumstances rationally, like he probably should, Fitz wrapped his hands around her, pulling her closer.
She moaned and nipped at his lower lip, thrusting her tongue against his. It was perhaps moving a bit faster and more intensely than he would have expected their first kiss to be. Definitely more out of the blue. But it was still all very enjoyable. Better than he ever imagined it could be, actually. Perfection! He inched closer and lifted his hand to cup her cheek. She responded enthusiastically.
And then he was brushing his hand down her neck, and her hands were grabbing at the buttons of his shirt, and then his hand was clutching desperately, squeezing the soft, supple flesh of her breast, and he was overcome with how perfect they felt - and then he paused internally.
Hold on. He would never move things along that fast. Not with Simmons. They were already rounding second base and they hadn’t even discussed their feelings! And yet, there was his hand, hungrily kneading into Jemma’s perfect plump breast. He had definitely not told his hand to do that.
Just as he was trying to remember something he’d read about idle hand syndrome, his mouth began kissing hotly down her neck too, and his fingers were pulling at the fabric of her shirt to free those beautiful breasts, and if he didn’t know any better, it looked as though his lips had two definite perky targets in mind. While the thought of what she tasted like had been at the edge of his mind on some very late nights, especially lately, a far more pressing concern was flooding his thoughts at the moment: Was he even in control of his own body?
All of a sudden, he pushed away from her, holding the back of his hand in front of his mouth.
“Frank, what’s the problem?” Simmons said, her words wrapped in a southern accent that was very much not her own.
Frank? Who’s Frank? I’m Fitz! He thought desperately.
“Sorry Effie,” Fitz’s lips moved on their own. “He got a bit spooked. Should have eased into him like you did.”
Eased into him? You mean me? Who’s Effie?
“What's spooked him?” Simmons said in the wrong voice again. Hold on… Not Effie and Frank who used to own this house? he thought.
“Wait a sec, I think he’s starting to getting the hang of it,” Fitz’s voice said, also in a southern accent.
Ha! Fitz thought. I knew it! See Simmons, they are ghosts! He paused his thoughts for a moment and frustration set in as he realized he couldn’t actually speak to Simmons right now. And then it hit him that Simmons had not in fact just kissed him. That his body was being used as some sort of instrument to get romantic with Jemma’s body. Oh God, Fitz thought, torn between terrified and intrigued.
“Well, they’re a couple, aren't they?” Simmons’ body asked cheerfully, reaching for Fitz again. “This should all be second nature-” She paused for a moment and cocked her head to the side. Apparently Jemma was somewhere in there too, informing this Effie woman exactly what their actual relationship status was. “… Oh, oh I see. No need to shout about it, dear!”
Fitz shrank internally. It happened every so often. They’d been close for so long that people sometimes just assumed that they were an item. They weren’t, though. Quite the opposite. He was always watching Jemma fawn over some good looking man or other while he was quite happy occupying the rest of her time as her partner. He didn’t really expect anything to happen between them ever. Not that he didn’t want it or think about it. Or dream about it.
“So… not a couple?” Fitz’s mouth said, disappointed.
“Sorry dear, that's our honest mistake.” Simmons’ body took a step away from Fitz, and his hands lingered in the air, not wanting to let her go. They were both clearly disappointed, and Fitz couldn’t help but feel that same longing for her touch again. “You both just act so much like a couple, we simply assumed,” Effie said through Simmons. “And we were so hoping that you would be able to help us out.” She pouted, and Fitz’s eyes zeroed in on that pout. He should have warned Frank to look away. It was impossible for Fitz to refuse Jemma when she had that look on her face… even if, apparently, this time it wasn’t her making it.
Help you out? He thought, finding himself warming to the idea despite the odd circumstances..
Frank chuckled and shook Fitz’s head in amusement. “Oh son, I can tell you already know what we mean.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, don't tell me you've never thought about it.”
Thought about what? I don’t know what you mean! he thought indignantly. A sudden image of his dream flashed in his mind, and Fitz cursed. This was definitely not the time for his private thoughts and fantasies to be used against him!
Frank snorted again. “See? You're thinking about it right now!” Oh God. He’d said it out loud. What would Simmons think?
Effie tilted Jemma’s head delicately. “This one is still wanting some clarification. Is it okay if I call you Jemma, dear?” She pursed her lips. “Hm. Well let's see, how do we put this delicately?”
“You read her diary,” Frank spoke up, stepping towards Effie again. He was full of the very bravado and sexual confidence that Fitz had never actively possessed. “You know exactly what our last wish is...” Unable to restrain himself any longer, Frank rushed forward and kissed Effie passionately. Fitz was better prepared for it this time, but was still wary of what Simmons’ reaction would be.
Knowing he should have expected it, the women pushed him and Frank away. Effie spoke sharply. “Frank, you must hold off,” she scolded. “You know how much I want this too, but we can't move on from this existence if they don't give us permission. We’ll just have to wait for another actual couple to come along.”
“But they’re condemning the house, sweetness,” Frank murmured, reaching out to play with her hand. “This is our last chance. No one else has found the hat and the diary before, and soon they never will.” Fitz was attempting to focus all his energy on glaring internal daggers at Frank instead of marvelling at how smooth Jemma’s hand felt. “They’ll be reduced to rubble and we’ll be stuck here forever, unable to move on… trapped in this lustful state... ” He rubbed his fingers against hers, until she became somewhat breathless. Apparently they had been unable to touch each other for a very long time. “Is that what you want?”
“Frank, be reasonable,” Effie breathed. “We’ve had a lifetime together, and these kids are still - well, they’re apparently very torn about how they feel about each other. We can't ask them to do this if they’re not ready.”
Fitz perked up at that. Torn? What was going on in Simmons’s head? What did she feel about him? Was she actually contemplating going through with - er - helping them out? If she wanted to, he could definitely...
“Oh, this is agony!” Frank groaned. “I forgot how difficult this part of falling in love is. Listen, Effie, he is definitely all for it , but wants to know what she thinks.”
F-falling in-? Excuse me! I never said I was all for it!
“What? You are all for it! Trust me, lad, I know the signs.”
Well not with me you don’t!
“Kid. If you look down it's pretty obvious to everyone in the room that you’re game!”
Fitz remained silent at that, praying Simmons hadn't heard, knowing she had. He could see her eyes wander down to agree with Frank, and he would have turned crimson and run straight from the room then if he’d been in charge of his body. “Well, Effie? What’s Jemma say?”
Fitz waited through the agonizing silence… This was absolutely making the top ten list of his most mortifying experiences ever. He hadn’t even had the chance to sort out if what he was feeling for Simmons was something worth sharing with her, and here he was, basically propositioning her and-
“She's up for it if he is!” Effie finally chirped.
What? Up for it, as in - she wants to? Simmons is okay with-? But why ?
Frank rolled his eyes and pulled his wife close him. “Trust me, darling, you chose the right words. He’s been up for it for a while!” A dainty finger pressed against his lips, though, pausing Frank before he could pull her towards him again .
“One caveat darling, and I think we owe them this,” she said sweetly. Fitz waited impatiently while Frank lumbered back again. “Jemma is requesting that she and Fitz here get things going. At least to start. Since this is a delicate situation, I think it’s the least we can do.”
Frank all but stamped Fitz’s foot on the ground. “But Effie, I won’t be able to do that thing you like so much then…”
She sighed, swaying towards him longingly. “I’m afraid it’s a hard line for her, dearest... and I agree.”
Yeah, me too! Fitz thought, having Simmons’ back in any way he could.
Frank grumbled. “Fine. The kid is in agreement too. But to be clear, we’re not leaving or anything. As soon as things get going, we’re taking control again, okay Effie? We’ve waited too long for this.”
Effie paused, listening to what Simmons was saying. “Yes, sounds like we’re all in agreement!”
They both reached out their hands to shake on it, and Fitz felt control coming back to his body, though the presence of Frank was definitely still hovering within him.
He took a deep breath and smiled with his own lips. Simmons smiled back, and he knew it was actually her. And all of a sudden it hit him what, exactly, they had just agreed to.
Fitz looked at her with wide, terrified eyes, and Simmons wasn’t entirely certain she looked much more confident.
“Hi Fitz,” she said quietly. When he merely gulped in response, she tried again. “I-I suppose we’d best get undressed to start?”
“Yeah,” he squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Usually no clothes is preferable.”
She ducked her head and reached for the first button of her shirt. Fitz followed her lead, but then paused, watching her with wide eyes.
“Y’know we still don’t actually have to do this, Simmons. I know you’ve never really felt that way about m-”
“Fitz.” She stopped him. “We’re helping two people out with an act that is perfectly natural.” She undid the last button. “Honestly, it’s been so long, I can’t believe neither of us thought of this before. Could relieve some pent-up stress from joining the field. Plus you’ll finally get to use that condom you’ve got stowed in your wallet since our first year at the academy. What could possibly go wrong?”
Fitz’s jaw dropped to the floor. He looked like he was about to say something, but Jemma quickly pulled her shirt off, correct in assuming it would tie his tongue in knots. He watched in wide-eyed silence as she unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them to the floor as well.
In her head, Effie was chuckling to herself. Dear, I have never heard someone rationalize this as well as you. What’s the harm admitting you want it too?
Jemma looked up, hoping her cheeks weren’t flushing as badly as she thought. She met Fitz’s eyes and instantly bit her lip. She had never expected Fitz to look at her that way… She had to admit, it felt very… nice.
“Now you,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Right. Me. Actually, you don’t really want to see what I’ve got under here do you? We can do this with my shirt and all still on, yeah?”
“Fitz,” she growled placing her hands on her hips, standing there in nothing but her knickers and bra.
“N- Sorry, just a suggestion. Nevermind!” He quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head, then winced as he removed his belt and stepped out of his trousers. He stood there in his boxers, and Jemma took a moment to take him all in.
Damn! Effie said in her head. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore. Enjoy all this while he’s still young and his beer belly hasn’t come in yet.
“What?” Fitz said nervously. Jemma realized she was perhaps taking a little too long to react, so she smiled.
“Nothing, Just- er” she took a step toward him. “Just not how I expected the evening to go, you know?”
“Definitely,” he took a step toward her too. “But here we are…” He reached his hand out nervously.
She pulled at his hand, then, closing her eyes, she decided to take the plunge. She brought her lips towards him in a rush of excitement, just as he had apparently decided to do the exact same thing.
“Ouch!” Their bodies bumped together with a slap of skin, and their teeth clacked against each other. Fitz winced and rubbed at his lip where a small cut had formed.
“Sorry!”
Oh, darling… Effie said in her head, sounding embarrassed for them. Did you want us to take over? The woman sounded a little too eager. Jemma squared her shoulders.
“No! I can do this.” It was Fitz that spoke aloud under his breath, clearly having a similar discussion with Frank. His eyebrows were pulled together in determination, and she met his eyes with a nod. He reached out and placed his warm hands against her waist. “Just hold still a moment, Jemma. Okay?”
She nodded enthusiastically and remained rooted to the spot. She looked up at him gently. His eyes were closed, and he leaned in towards her. She inched her face forward. His breath fluttered against her lips, and her heart sped up. She waited for him to come the rest of the way, and when he finally did, it was as if fireworks erupted in her chest.
She hadn't properly prepared herself for the wave of excitement every brush of their lips sent through her. Fitz certainly knew what he was doing, and it felt intoxicating. She pulled him even closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands drifted up her back to the clasp at her bra. She wasn’t sure if it was Fitz or his tutor, but he slipped the garment down her arms and tossed it to the side of the bed before she even noticed he was attempting it.
Then her hands were at his hips, playing with the only fabric that was left between them. With a gasp and a shudder, no more thoughts were needed. She heard a growl escape her lips like a leopard that had waited too long to pounce on its prey. And all at once, it no longer mattered who was in control. She was consumed with desire.
They came together, falling against the bed in a flurry of kisses. His lips burned so many questions into her skin. Had this fire always been there between them, simmering beneath the surface, just waiting for some small flint to ignite it? Or was she simply feeling remnants of the passion between a couple that was so strong, not even death could keep it from bursting into flame?
Each movement felt like second nature. Was it really her in charge of her movements as she pushed against Fitz, pulling him deeper, whimpering into his neck? Was it really him knowing just where to touch? They had known each other a long time, and it could be that camaraderie, that bond between them, which opened the floodgates now. How had she never seen it before? How could she ever tell if it was all real when Frank and Effie clearly knew what they were after? Would she ever want to know for sure?
Her body was becoming lost in the sensations building through her veins, the sensations that her best friend in the world was administering deep within her. Try as she might, she could not separate them. No matter the ridiculous situation they had currently found themselves in, it was her body twisting beneath Fitz. It was him looking back at her as they moved together. And she found she didn't need to answer any of those questions. Did they even matter?
Soon, she was crying out, watching his strong back rise and fall, then growing sleepy, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as she cradled his head against her chest in the heady, silent glow that followed.
They woke again to the sound of Bashful scanning their bodies, tangled together in the bed sheets. It took them both more than a moment to gather themselves and realize they had full control again. It was the drone's bleep that broke the air of dreaminess between them, and they both sat bolt upright, clutching the sheets to their chests. They whipped their heads around to look at each other.
“So,” Simmons said brightly after a long moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile frozen on her lips.
“Uh, yeah,” Fitz said, clutching the sheets higher up his neck.
They both looked away, choosing to stare straight ahead in silence. The minutes ticked on, punctuated by the soft whirring of Bashful taking inventory of the room.
Fitz opened his mouth to try again, smiling uncomfortably, hoping a good joke would break the tension. She looked at him hopefully, and no, whatever he was about to say immediately left his head. He pulled his lips in and chewed on them, looking away again as Simmons’ smile fell.
“Well that was-”
The ring of Fitz’s cell phone interrupted like a blaring parade. Wincing, he realized it was off in the corner of the room where his pants had ended up. This presented an interesting predicament: How to answer the phone all the way over there when there was only one sheet between them?
He paused half-way up, let out a soft whine and clutched at the sheet until Simmons rolled her eyes.
“Oh for God’s sake, Fitz. I’ve already seen it all!” And with that, she threw off the sheet and marched over to his pants. He watched wide-eyed as she tossed them over to him, then got to work searching for the rest of their garments.
He fumbled with the phone in his hands, then answered, his voice cracking somewhat. “Y-Yes, hello? This is Fitz!”
“Finally!” Skye said on the other line. Then she snorted. “Of course it’s you, dork. I called your cell.” She rolled her eyes verbally.
“Right. Sorry.”
“So are you guys on your way back, or what? Almost everyone else has gone to bed, so if Simmons was dead set on that costume party…”
“Oh, shoot!” Fitz cursed. “What time is it?”
“Well past midnight.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. May wanted to check in on you, but I said you guys were probably just geeking out over the old house and lost track of time. I’m assuming you found something interesting?”
“Uh… Well… We-” Simmons was standing over with the tablet, now fully dressed, and she waved to him to get over to her. He shook his head. “Listen, can I call you back?”
“Sure. Just get back here, or you forfeit the last Irn Bru bar!” She hung up quickly before he could register what her words meant for his stash of candy.
“Fitz,” Simmons said, walking the tablet over to him as he tried to tactfully fish for his shirt while remaining under the sheet. “It appears we were correct with our original assumption about the house.” She looked uncomfortable.
“That it’s haunted? ” Fitz said, trying a different tactic. Jemma closed her eyes, then bent and picked his shirt up for him, tossing it tactlessly at his head.
“Fitz,” she rolled her eyes. “Bashful and Sneezy appear to have detected a large amount of Amyl Nitrite in the air, so-”
“The hallucinogen?”
“Yes…” she whispered. “There were particularly strong traces on the hat and diary we picked up earlier…”
“Ah. Right.” He blinked. “So that explains the whole-” he glanced down at the bed he was still sitting naked in.
“Probably a good thing the house is getting condemned...” she said quietly, turning away to give him some privacy.
“I suppose on the positive side, it means we definitely weren’t possessed!” He choked out, pulling his pants back up.
“Yes, there are still no such things as ghosts,” she said patronizingly. Her know-it-all smile faded as she looked over to where Fitz was attempting to button his shirt back up. “Still, I suppose it is odd that we hallucinated the same thing,” she admitted. “It was all very specific and… interactive.”
“Oh thank God that wasn’t just me!” Fitz breathed. “And there were certainly things we did that I did not know how to-” he froze, cutting himself off, letting that hang in the air.
“Yes, well…” Jemma smiled uncomfortably and they both fell into another silence.
“Well. We should get back,” Fitz shrugged. “We’ve missed the costume party. And Skye’s eaten all my candy. Nothing else we can do here…” He stood, placing his hands on his hips, attempting to be casual about everything that had just happened, despite the multiple questions all this information was eliciting.
“Ah, Fitz, just make sure...” Jemma looked shyly away and motioned to his fly that was still very much undone. He winced and zipped up delicately.
“So this whole thing,” he motioned to the bed, “that’s never getting mentioned again, yeah?”
She walked past him towards the door with a small smile. “Well I don’t know… I know I learned some useful pointers.” She sashayed out of the room, then turned back to him with a mischievous grin. “Shame to let it all go to waste.”