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Jemma was happy to see the others again. Of course she was. She was happy to watch their faces light up when they saw Fitz, how they welcomed him, hugged him, patted his back. She was happy to be free again. She was happy that she no longer had to fight on her own, biding her time in submissive silence, trying to come up with an escape plan.
She was happy when they managed to escape to the surface as Coulson had suggested. She was happy when they found May unharmed, with Enoch and a group of humans, some of the True Believers, who'd built their own little colony on the surface of a broken Earth—using the Zephyr of all places as their fortress, finding ways to defeat the Roaches, even using them to their advantage, for their protection. She was happy about how patiently and freely Fitz tried to answer the flood of questions the team threw at him once they'd gotten to the True Believers' base.
She was happy about so many things.
But she wasn't happy about the way Fitz's voice sounded strained and breathy when he spoke. How his genuine smiles nonetheless looked forced through the pain. How the hand pressed against his stomach began to tremble. How the red stain on his shirt slowly grew bigger.
"Sir," she interrupted Coulson sternly, when he’d asked Fitz yet another question, "I'm well aware of the importance of Fitz giving us a full report, and that time is of the essence, but I would really like to tend to his injury now. And since this is the first time that we are maybe not in immediate danger... well, I can't speak for everyone, but personally I could use some rest and I believe Daisy and Fitz, if not everyone, would greatly benefit from even just a few of hours of sleep as well." She paused for a moment before adding a quiet, respectful, and maybe just a tad pleading, "Sir."
She was happy when Coulson agreed.
Jemma stood silently next to Fitz, who probably had many of the same thoughts running through his mind.
It was strange how similar and yet different their small lab on the Zephyr looked. Some of their old equipment was still there, gathering dust for decades, some other tech and scraps had been dragged in by the True Believers, trying to reuse things, repair things, figure out their function. And, the room had been repurposed as sleeping accommodation, a mattress stacked on top of some crates to form a bed against the wall. The Seer, Robin, had told them to use it. That it was meant for them. Well, she hadn't used that many words really, just a charcoal drawing, a shy smile behind honest, bright yet aging eyes, and her pointing and trembling hand.
Jemma exhaled a sharp breath. "Alright, let me take a look." She took half a step back so she could reach for Fitz's leather jacket from behind, helping him out of it.
Fitz turned his head to look over his shoulder at Jemma as he shed his jacket. "It's really not that bad, Jemma. Just a scratch. Stings a little."
"Yes, well," Jemma dropped the jacket to the floor, circling Fitz until she faced him again. "Let me be the judge of that."
A smile flashed across Fitz's face. "Alright," he replied, barely above a whisper.
Jemma couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from ticking up reflexively. She cleared her throat, forcing her eyes away from the mesmerizing blue of his irises, looking at the makeshift bed instead. “Lie down. It’ll be easier.”
Fitz complied, a smile still lingering on his lips. He drew in a pained breath through gritted teeth as he first sat on the edge of the bed, before lying down.
“Just a scratch. Stings a little,” Jemma parroted Fitz’s earlier words, grinning teasingly in his direction, while bending down to undo his boots.
Fitz adjusted his position, resting his head on his arm and looking down at where Jemma was unfastening the clasps of his boots. “It’s really not that bad, I swear.”
“Yes, yes, yes, of course not.” Jemma rolled her eyes, placing the boots on the floor, before sitting down sideways on the mattress, reaching for the hem of Fitz’s shirt. “Now let me take a look.”
She lifted the shirt, pushing it up. Her eyes narrowed down on Fitz’s injury (which she happily but also a bit begrudgingly admitted looked indeed far less severe than she’d assumed), but something else caught her attention.
“What happened to your stomach?” Jemma asked in surprise, furrowing her brow and looking back and forth between Fitz and his exposed abdomen.
Fitz looked back at her in confusion. “Something happen to your short-term memory? Because you were right there when—”
Jemma shook her head. “Yes, yes, no, not your injury. You… you… it’s—” she stammered, her eyes wandering back to his stomach, “—toned.”
Fitz scoffed. “I spent six months in solitary.” He shrugged slightly insofar as his position allowed him to. “I got bored.”
Jemma tried in vain to suppress a snort. “You got so bored that you—” She couldn’t help but chuckle. “—exercised?”
Fitz pushed himself up to sitting, fixing his eyes on Jemma, but unable to hide the sparkle in his eyes. “You told me you did pull-ups on Maveth when Will held you captive.”
Jemma laughed quietly. “Yes, but I’ve always emphasized the importance of physical as well as mental exercise, whereas you—” She gestured at Fitz with both hands, another wave of laughter bubbling to the surface.
“Wipe that grin off your face, or I’ll do it for you.” Fitz bit his lower lip in a feeble attempt to not laugh himself, but his eyes gave him away.
“And how are you going to do that?” Jemma felt her heart beat quicker at the challenging and seductive tone of her own voice.
Fitz drew in a slow breath, the gaze of his eyes making Jemma’s stomach churn with excitement. He tucked her hair behind her ear, curling his fingers around the nape of her neck, and pulling her towards him. His tongue brushed against her lower lip and Jemma parted her lips, a soft moan escaping her as their kiss intensified.
Gently, Jemma pushed against Fitz’s chest, breaking their kiss. Her head was spinning, her lips tingled, and she had to force her brain to formulate words, which exited her mouth breathlessly and barely above a whisper. “Let me dress your wound, alright?”
One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticked up slightly as he nodded. “Okay.”
He lay back down, once again resting his head on his arm, watching Jemma get the medical kit and tending to his injury with gentle, careful hands.
“It really isn’t that bad,” Jemma admitted quietly, standing up and pulling off the gloves.
Fitz pushed himself up to sitting, lifting one side of his shirt up with one hand, while the other carefully inspected Jemma’s medical handiwork. “Told you so.”
Jemma scrunched her nose, looking scoldingly at Fitz, but unable to hide a smile. She packed up the rest of the medical supplies and carried them over to the lab bench in the center of the room.
Fitz swung his legs over the edge of the bed as Jemma walked back to it, sitting down next to him.
“So, what now?” Jemma asked, a nervous tremble in her tone.
Fitz gazed at Jemma in silence for a moment, before sliding off the bed, kneeling down in front of her. He undid her boots without saying a word, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. When he was done, he looked up, raising himself up on his knees, his hands resting on either side of Jemma on the edge of the mattress.
Jemma felt as if the world around them had disappeared. She heard nothing but their quickening breaths and the thumping of her own excited heart. She reached for him, cradling the back of his head in her hands, pulling him up, pulling him closer until their lips once again met in a passionate kiss.
Jemma broke their kiss, feeling dizzy and breathless. “Are you sure you’re okay to—?”
A mischievous, one-sided grin appeared on his face. “I’ll do my best to power through.”
Jemma laughed quietly over his cheeky remark, the sound stifled and slowly subsiding when Fitz’s lips captured hers in another tender kiss. Fitz crawled onto the bed, gently pushing Jemma onto her back as their mouths moved softly against each other, their hands reaching for each other’s clothing. Layer by layer, their clothes disappeared, until the sensation of hands, fingers, lips, bodies was all that was left.
Heat rushed through Jemma’s body, wetness gathering between her legs as Fitz kissed every part of her body, her forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, neck, breasts, stomach. His fingers trailed her freckles, her scars, until they buried themselves between her folds, causing her breath to hitch and her hips to buck. She moaned against his lips when he entered her, filled her, when she finally felt reunited with him, with every part of him, mind, body, and soul, when she could finally call everything she’d missed, thought she’d lost, home again.
He moved in her slowly, their moans mingling, echoing each other’s. It was almost too much, overwhelming emotions, sensations, and yet Jemma wanted more, wanted everything.
She cupped Fitz’s face, pushing his head back and calling out his name. “Fitz!”
His eyes shot open, looking at her with concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asked breathlessly, pushing himself up on his hands.
Jemma grimaced as tears mixed with laughter. She shook her head, her thumbs gliding across Fitz’s cheekbones. “Look at me,” she pleaded. “Look at me, please. I want to see you.”
A smile flashed across his face. He lowered himself, pressing a tender kiss against her lips, before pushing himself back up, fixing his eyes on her and slowly moving his hips forward.
Jemma moaned, closing her eyes for a split-second as a wave of pleasure rushed through her, but when she opened them again, the blue of Fitz’s irises still gazed back at her just as intensely, filled with desire and love.
They locked eyes, their bodies moving slowly, as if it would allow them to slow down time together, prolong the moment, freeze it and live in a protective bubble forever where no one could hurt or separate them. Jemma’s arousal built and built, the feelings and sensations more intense, sensual, intoxicating than anything she could remember, until she felt the release of her orgasm, crying out Fitz’s name, feeling the weight of his body moments later as he collapsed on top of her, his arms trying to hug her, pull her even closer as they lay entangled on the small makeshift bed in the Zephyr’s lab.
For awhile they remained like that, their chests heaving against each other, their skin glistening and sticky, their hands lazily exploring each other’s bodies, their lips brushing against whichever part of the other they could reach, soft giggles mixing with breathless quiet moans.
Jemma felt goosebumps forming on her torso the second Fitz pushed himself up, shifting his position to lie down next to her on the narrow mattress. She shivered, and immediately Fitz began fidgeting with the thin blanket, somehow managing to pull it from underneath them and cover both himself and Jemma.
He propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand tucking Jemma’s hair behind her ear as he gazed at her lovingly. “You think anyone here is ordained?”
Jemma laughed. “I’m sure Daisy would gladly volunteer.”
One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticked up as his fingers absentmindedly traced up and down Jemma’s arm. “Was hoping for something more official.”
Jemma sighed. “Then, I’m afraid, we’ll have to… well—” She shrugged. “—figure out time travel.”
“Tzk!” Fitz scoffed. “Piece of cake.”
Jemma couldn’t help but chuckle, before her expression grew more serious. “I suppose, we’ve figured out plenty of impossible things over the years.”
“Yep,” Fitz muttered quietly, curling his fingers around Jemma’s hand. “We’ll do what we always do.”
“We’ll fix it together,” Jemma whispered, a hopeful smile playing on her lips.
Fitz nodded silently, his eyes watery. He shrugged. “Plus, would be nice if Mum could come, and your parents.”
Jemma’s lips pulled into a smile that was both happy and pained, her eyes now welling up as well. “Yes, that would be nice.”
Fitz leaned closer, kissing Jemma tenderly. His thumb caressed her cheekbone as he drew in a slow breath. “We’ll figure it out.”
Jemma smiled, nodding in agreement. “Yes, we will.”
Fitz exhaled sharply, scooting a bit closer to Jemma. “How about we sleep now?”
Jemma couldn’t help the quiet giggle that escaped her. “You took a 74-year nap and now you want to sleep?”
Fitz gasped in protest. “First of all, you’re the one who told Coulson that we needed rest, and second of all—” He paused, looking at her thoughtfully, his fingers once again playing with her hair. “—It’s not so much about the sleeping, but the waking up next to you.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper now. “I’ve missed that.”
Jemma felt a tear snake down her cheek, tasted its saltiness moments later when it disappeared between her smiling lips. She reached forward, pressing her palm against Fitz’s cheek. “I’ve missed that too,” she admitted, her voice shaky. “It feels like it’s been—”
The corners of Fitz’s mouth ticked up, but Jemma interrupted him before he could speak. “Don’t say 74 years.”
Fitz shook his head as his knuckles wiped away the watery trail Jemma’s tears had left behind. “It felt longer than that.”
Jemma nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line, sniffling. “Yeah.”
Fitz inhaled deeply, his thumb caressing the soft skin below Jemma’s eye. He wet his lips, gazing at her, deeply in thought.
“Jemma Anne Simmons,” he said quietly, shifting until his body was pressed against Jemma’s, his hand now curling around her waist. “I promise to wake up next to you... today—” He kissed the tip of her nose, and Jemma couldn’t help but smile. “—tomorrow—” He kissed her nose again and Jemma’s smile grew wider. “—every day.”
He gazed into her eyes, her soul; his face beaming with excitement and anticipation.
“Leopold James Fitz,” Jemma took a deep breath, resting her hand against his stubble. “I promise you the same.”
His lips pulled wide, his smile lighting up his entire face, until a relieved chuckle left his parted mouth. He exhaled sharply, shrugging ever so slightly.
“I now declare us—” He paused.
Jemma felt her breathing quicken with excited suspense.
“—ready to sleep,” Fitz finished.
Jemma dropped her head back, laughing out loud. She slapped Fitz playfully. “Ugh!”
She didn’t get further than that in her protest, when Fitz captured her lips in a slow, intimate kiss.
“Good night, Jemma,” he whispered, when their lips parted.
He raised his arm, allowing Jemma to settled down in his embrace, resting her hand above his heart and her head on his shoulder. “Good night, Fitz,” she replied, before closing her eyes, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth, and allowing the serenity of the moment to lull her to sleep.