Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fitzsimmons, we have a mission for you,” Coulson told them at the next debriefing.

“Really?” Jemma asked excitedly.

“But we haven’t passed our field assessments,” Fitz said.

“Who do we get to be?”

“We’re not qualified.”

“Assassins? Spies? College students?”

“Send May and Ward.”

“What’s my cover name?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

Coulson held up a hand to forestall any other questions or comments. They both stuttered to a stop. Fitz crossed his arms across his chest in protest while Jemma was practically bouncing on her feet in excitement.

“It’s not undercover. You’ll be going as yourselves.”

Jemma deflated slightly, but Fitz perked up. “What’s the mission?” he asked.

“We have intel that a major weapons deal will go down at the Science and Technology of the Future conference in Melbourne, Australia. Given that it is a very exclusive conference, and only those with the relevant experience can enter, we thought you two would be the perfect candidates.”

Fitz puffed his chest out slightly and Jemma brightened. “It’s probably wise. Fitz, I bet many of our former colleagues from the Academy will be there. How exciting!”

Fitz went back to thinking this was a terrible idea. “I really don’t think…”

“Once the conference starts, the whole hotel will be in lockdown. Theoretically, no one will get in or out, but we will find a way to give you back up.”

“But that’s…”

“Oh, and you’ll also have to give a presentation and demonstration of something new. It’s about the future, after all.”

“Sir,” Jemma tried to interrupt.

“You’ve got three days to prepare.”

Fitz shared a glance with Jemma as Coulson left the room. At least it didn’t sound dangerous, he thought with a rush of relief. She smiled excitedly and his relief changed to affection. He wondered absently what he’d do without her.

“If we can perfect the…” she began.

“It would be ideal,” he finished.

`

Fitz walked into the massive lobby of the specially-built hotel and sighed, clutching the metal case that held their prototypes. It was going to be worse than he thought. There were so many people crowded in the space that he couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. He focused on Jemma’s presence beside him and calmed. He could do this.

Jemma looped her elbow around his free arm and grinned up at him excitedly. She had talked nonstop about how thrilling this whole venture was going to be. She’d always been the more adventurous one of the two of them. Fitz tried to show some enthusiasm so as not to disappoint her.

“Our first solo field mission together, eh?”

Her eyes shined and Fitz couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked when she was this passionate about something. Well, she was beautiful all the time, but there was something about the way her eyes lit up that made his heart clench.

He shook himself to force the feelings back down. Ever since he had realised that his feelings ran deeper than friendship, he’d had to be ever-vigilant about his thoughts. They often strayed into awkward territory, particularly because Jemma had no idea. And that’s exactly the way it would stay, if he had anything to say about it.

“Let’s go get registered, then we can explore,” she said, then began dragging him over to the sign in desk. There was a woman with a clipboard standing there, making notes. She looked vaguely familiar, but Fitz didn’t place her until she looked up and caught sight of them.

“Fitzsimmons!” Trudi cried, inexplicably happy to see them. They had shared a few classes with her in their early days at the Academy, but he and Trudi hadn’t been anything remotely like friends.

“Trudi,” Jemma replied, bordering on impolite. Fitz glanced at her, surprised. Trudi had always seemed fond of Jemma, and the two of them had gotten along, as far as he knew.

“I’m one of the organisers of this conference. When I saw your names down together, I was so excited. I suppose you must be married by now.”

Fitz choked on air, while Jemma tensed. “What makes you say that?” he asked nervously. He wondered if he had just stepped into his own personal version of hell, as the brief thought of being married to Jemma caused his heart rate to speed up alarmingly. He really did need to get a hold of himself.

“Well, surely you aren’t still denying that you two were together. I mean, no one was fooled.”

“That’s…” He tried to say ridiculous but the word wouldn’t come.

“Very true,” Jemma finished for him. He almost dropped his case in surprise. He looked over to her for answers, but wisely said nothing. Obviously she had a plan.

“Great! Because I put you in the same room together. With your late booking, there weren’t too many options. And I figured you’d prefer it anyway.” She looked between the two of them, her eyebrows raised in question as she waited for their verdict.

“Fantastic,” Jemma replied. Fitz made a sound like a strangled gasp and Jemma lightly pinched his rib where Trudi couldn’t see it. God, he was going to have to share a room with Jemma, his best friend and the woman he was completely head over heels in love with. There was no way this wouldn’t end in disaster.

Trudi visibly relaxed.

“That’s perfect. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no. I have no idea where else I’d put you! This conference has to go off without a hitch.” The sudden fierceness of her tone surprised Fitz, and he almost took a step back. Obviously Trudi had a lot riding on this.

“Right, well, if we could have our room key…” he muttered.

“Of course.” She handed them each a personalised welcome pack. “Your keys, nametags, programs, everything should be in there.” She gave them a coolly professional smile.

Jemma took Fitz’s hand again and dragged him towards the lifts with a last wave at Trudi. As they were going past a table with free gifts laid out, Fitz grabbed a handful of clip-on Australian animals and pocketed them. For the team, he told himself, nervously fiddling with a kangaroo.

When he and Jemma were safely alone in the lift, Fitz rounded on Jemma.

“What was that all about?”

“Honestly, I just couldn’t be bothered explaining to everyone a hundred times over that we were just friends. We had enough of that at the academy. I thought it would be easier.” She leant forward conspiratorially and lowered her voice. “It will make coordinating the mission easier, too.”

Fitz thought briefly about the difficulties they would encounter if they both had to share rooms with other people, and decided Jemma was right. He hoped rather forlornly that there would be two beds.

His hopes were unsurprisingly dashed when they entered the room. There was one solitary bed, not even queen size, but it dominated the entire room. He sighed, resigning himself to the completely unideal situation.

Taking no apparent notice of the bed, Jemma lifted their shared suitcase – God no wonder people thought they were a couple – and placed it on the luggage holder. She immediately began to unpack, placing their perfectly folded clothes (her influence) in the shared built-in wardrobe.

The domesticity of it caused a pang to his heart, and Fitz realised he was standing like an idiot in the hallway. He walked further into the room and placed the metal case on the desk and opened it, carefully checking the items inside for any damage sustained during transport and studiously ignoring the other occupant in the room.

When he could no longer justify staring at the same metallic pieces any more, he carefully closed the lid and pulled out his program.

“We don’t speak until the last day,” he told her when he saw their names. She made a sound to show she’d heard him but didn’t turn around. “I see a few names I recognise from the Academy. It really was a breeding ground for the best and brightest.” He chuckled to himself, but Jemma didn’t share in his joking arrogance. “Jem?”

She spun around suddenly, looking at him intensely. “We can do this, right?”

His eyes shifted nervously to the bed and quickly back again. “Hmmm?”

“The mission. We won’t bollocks it all up, right?”

“Oh, right, the mission. We’ll be fine. All we have to do is be our normal selves with a little bit of added snooping.” He tried to smile reassuringly. She smiled back, but it wasn’t at all convincing.

Fitz walked over to her and took her hands between his. “I promise we’ll be fine.”

Jemma let out a long breath and her smile was more genuine this time. “I’m glad it’s you with me. I couldn’t do this with anyone else.”

“I feel the same way,” he murmured.

Their smiles faded as they continue to gaze at each other. Fitz’s heart began to pound a deep and steady rhythm in his chest that was pulling him inexorably closer to her.

Jemma’s breath hitched, and her eyes drifted briefly to his lips before darting back up again. The beat stuttered slightly, then began once more, stronger and faster. He was achingly aware of her hands clutched tightly in his. God, was he really going to have the courage to kiss her?

He shifted closer. Her face tilted up further towards him. He lowered his head and-

“FITZSIMMONS!” Coulson barked in his ear. Jemma winced too, and they sprang apart as their hands flew up to adjust the volumes on their comms.

“Yes, sir,” Jemma replied, clearly flustered. Fitz didn’t quite know what to make of her reaction, but he didn’t have time to think about it now.

“Ah, finally. There was some kind of interference in the building, but Skye managed to create a work-around."

“Hi, guys!” The woman in question’s voice piped in from a distance. “How goes your first mission?”

“We only just signed in, we haven’t done anything yet,” Fitz replied, rather put out by their atrocious timing.

“You also haven’t died yet, or blown anything up you weren’t supposed to so, hey, that’s a plus!” Fitz’s frown deepened at the forced sound behind Skye’s usual chipperness.

Fitz could practically hear the look Coulson gave Skye. “We’ve just received new intel for you, and I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

Fitz tensed and caught Jemma’s eye. He could see his own panic reflected in hers. If she’d been put in danger because of this…

“What is it, sir?” Jemma asked, when Coulson hesitated.

“We heard a rumour that this isn’t so much a weapons deal as a weapons test. We think they are going to use the last day of the conference as a demonstration.”

“What?” Fitz exploded. “We’ve got to get out.”

“I’m afraid that’s the problem,” Coulson’s voice was heavy with regret. “The place has gone into lockdown. Literally. Shutters came down around the entire building about 20 minutes ago. As far as we can tell, you’re locked in. We are working on an escape route, but for now your best bet will be to find these people and stop them. And you’ve got less than 72 hours to do it.”

Chapter Text

Fitz allowed himself a brief moment to panic before he focused his quick mind on the problem. He could see that Jemma was doing the same, already sifting through the many possibilities.

"We’re going to need the building’s blueprints. It will help us figure out the most likely points and methods of attack," he told Coulson.

"And we’ll need background checks of all the people in attendance," Jemma chimed in. "So we know what everyone’s speciality is."

"We’re on it. You should have the info in a few hours, but Skye’s already…acquired you the blueprints. Start there," Coulson told them.

Then his presence was gone and the two of them were left alone with the most urgent problem of their lives to solve. Fitz considered panicking again, but one look at Jemma and he knew he couldn’t do that. To help her, protect her, save her, he had to devote all of his considerable brain power to the task. He was no good to her if he let anxiety get the better of him.

"Right, well, this is unexpected," he joked lightly. Jemma gave him a look and he shrugged.

"I’m so sorry, Fitz. I know you didn’t even want to come on this mission. I feel like I’ve dragged you into yet another disaster."

"Jemma, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown man. I can drag myself into disasters." He frowned, realising what he’d said. "I mean…I can’t consider any of the considerable time we’ve spent together disastrous."

"Fitz, this was just meant to be an intel gathering mission! We would get in, observe the weapons deal, inform Coulson so he could deal with it, and then get out. But now we have to save all these lives, including our own. How can you be so relaxed about this?"

Fitz sighed. “I’m not relaxed. I just know that between the two of us we can solve anything. You’re my best friend, my partner. And all our adventures have just showed us how well we work together. And, yes, I didn’t want to do this mission because I thought it would be too dangerous and I didn’t want anything to happen to you. But now that we are here, I know we can solve it.”

"Oh," said Jemma. Fitz’s chest felt tight. Had he revealed too much? "I feel the same. I wouldn’t be quite so excited about all our adventures if I didn’t have you right beside me. I feel safe with you because I know we can solve anything."

Fitz almost puffed out his chest in pride but stopped himself in time. Feeling awkward in his happiness, Fitz turned away.  

"We should have a look at those blueprints, yeah?"

He dug their tablet out of the suitcase Jemma hadn’t finished unpacking and set it on the desk. A few presses and swipes and he had a 3D holographic model of the building in front of him.

He felt Jemma’s presence at his shoulder, was acutely aware of her warmth, so cleared his throat to shake his mind of inappropriate thoughts.

They stared at the slowly rotating image as if it would tell them the secrets of the universe.

“If it were a mechanical device, like a bomb,” he began slowly. Jemma shifted around so she was looking at him intently and Fitz felt his heart rate speed up at her serious regard. “I would place it somewhere central, and use the shutters to force the explosion inwards.”

Jemma nodded, considering it. “If the device is a biological weapon, I would place it here,” she said, indicating a spot in the ventilation system. “It would get the most distribution through the building that way.”

They stared at the glowing image, thinking through the possibilities.

“What if it is something new we haven’t seen before?” Jemma whispered. It was the exact possibility he had been afraid of.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”

`

Fitz fiddled nervously with his cufflinks as he waited for Jemma to exit the room. They were attending the black-tie opening night function, but Fitz would much rather have been in their room working on lists of the possible weapons they might encounter. Jemma had insisted they go, however, as it would no doubt be a good opportunity to discover possible suspects.

When she had come out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel, Fitz had fled before she could kick him out. He imagined a fleeting disappointment in her eyes as he’d let himself out, but knew he couldn’t start thinking of his best friend naked and glowing from a warm shower. That was definitely out of line and in extremely dangerous territory.

He leant back against the wall and scuffed his dress shoes against the floor, waiting.

He glanced up at the sound of the door opening and froze as Jemma stepped out. He felt his mouth drop open as he took in the shimmering silvery-gold of the elegant, figure-hugging dress. Her heels brought her up to nearly eye level with him, and made her legs look endless. Her hair was in delicate waves around her face, and she just looked so different.

Say something, he told himself. “I…That’s…You…” he stuttered. Smooth.

He dragged his eyes back to hers and their eyes caught. A faint blush stained her cheeks, and Fitz thought she actually looked quite pleased by his inarticulate reaction. Her gaze roamed over his tuxedo clad form with approval.

"We’ll make quite a pair tonight, won’t we?" she murmured.

"I feel like a real secret agent. The tux, the beautiful woman on my arm…all I’m missing is the martini."

She laughed delightedly and his heart somersaulted almost uncomfortably in his chest.

"I think both of us would be more the Q of the scenario, but it’s fun to play for a while."

He held out his elbow. She took a few steps so she could loop her arm around his and he began to formally escort her downstairs. Almost like a real date, his traitorous mind whispered.

He determinedly pushed the thought aside and focused on their evening ahead.

Chapter Text

The party was still in full swing when Jemma finally succeeded in dragging him on to the dance floor. The song was upbeat, but he didn’t recognise it and his attempts at dancing to the rhythm were fairly pitiful. Never the most graceful person at the best of times, dancing made everything so much worse.

The evening had gone better than Fitz had expected. Granted, he had spent most of it hovering behind Jemma as she charmed a succession of impressively educated people. But, still, they’d managed to discover a lot about many of the people attending the conference, and dismissed many of them as possible suspects. Anything to narrow the field helped.

But then Jemma had decided she wanted to let loose and have some fun, take their minds off the looming disaster. And so she hadn’t taken no for an answer when she insisted he dance.

The song changed to something slow and smooth. Ignoring the warning bells in his mind, Fitz tugged on her arm gently to draw her close. Jemma came willingly, her hands resting gently on his shoulders and her body tucked neatly into his.

He may have two left feet when it came to dance music, but he could do a simple sway pretty convincingly.

The feel of her lithe body moving so close to his was incredibly distracting. He could smell the fragrance of her hair and the fresh scent of her. His left hand trailed lightly over her lower back, feeling the slide of the fabric against her skin.

He turned to her, intending to tell her how impressed he had been with her tonight. Their eyes met and the words flew out of his head as he realised just how close she was. Her hands slipped around to the back of his neck, lightly teasing his hair. His heart rate sped up and his breathing quickened.

Her pupils dilated, and he could see her own breaths increasing in pace. His gaze flickered down to her lips, and an insidious part of him began to encourage him to close the distance between them and kiss her. Worse, he wanted to listen.

He also didn’t want to tear himself away too quickly. So, he eased back, out of her arms and ignored any disappointment he had imagined in her eyes.

"We should go back to the room. We’ll need a good night’s sleep if we are going to solve this thing."

Jemma nodded, and the two of them said their goodbyes and made their way to the lift.

Unfortunately, before they got there, the two of them were accosted by an older, drunker version of another of their Academy classmates.

"Fitzsimmons," he slurred. "Still together, then?"

Fitz sighed. “Yes, Greg,” he murmured, part of him wishing it were true in the way Greg meant, and the other part of him wondering when it became such an easy lie. Fitz tried to manoeuvre around the man, but Greg stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You’re a very lucky man," Greg told him with a strange intensity. Well, that much was true. "None of us knew how you did it, back then.”

Fitz was about to reply, when Jemma stepped forward. “Thank you for your input,” she told him with prim sarcasm. “If you don’t understand it by now, you never will.”

With that, she grabbed Fitz’s hand and dragged him around Greg and out of the room.

They got in the elevator in silence. After a moment, he asked, “Do you think everyone assumed we were a couple back at the academy? Because even then we had to deny it a lot, but I never knew it was that bad.”

“Oh, definitely,” she replied. “There was a marked decrease in the amount of male attention I got after the two of us became friends, to the point where it was essentially non-existent. Eventually I realised why.”

Fitz felt an odd, tight feeling in his chest. “That seems like quite a sacrifice. Why did you keep spending so much time with me? Surely you would have known you could have had your pick of any of them.”

Jemma laughed lightly. “It wasn’t a sacrifice at all. I got something infinitely better in return. I may not have had many people express a sexual interest in me anymore, but I had found a true friend. My intellectual soul mate. That is something so rare and precious I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

The tightness in Fitz’s chest strengthened for a pulse at the word ‘friend’, then loosened into a warm joy at the sentiment she expressed. He grinned, and squeezed her hand which he realised he was still holding. She moved closer, holding his gaze. He stilled and waited, wondering what she was going to do.

Just as he was about to find out, the elevator dinged, signalling their floor, and the spell of intimacy woven by the low light, enclosed space, and heartfelt confessions, broke. He tugged his hand out of hers as they made their way down the corridor to their room.

Suddenly, he was feeling tired, confused and grumpy after the excess of people, and Jemma’s strange behaviour. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Unfortunately, the spectre of that lone bed in their room was taunting him.

The instant they were inside Jemma sighed happily and kicked off her heels.

“Thank goodness that’s over,” she said, but she was smiling.

“You were good down there tonight,” he told her softly.

She shrugged. “I don’t know if we got anything we can use.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

She paused for a moment, and Fitz was sure she was going to say something more. But then she grabbed a few things and shut herself in the bathroom.

He turned to stare at the bed. The bed he was going to share with Jemma. Tonight.

Feeling like his brain was short-circuiting, Fitz changed into monkey-patterned boxer shorts and a t-shirt on autopilot. He pulled back the covers, about to get in when he realised it might be strange for her to come back into the room and have him waiting for her in bed. So he hovered uselessly around the room until she came out of the bathroom, fresh faced and in her adorable flannel pyjamas featuring different chemistry symbols.

Feeling overwhelmed, he slipped into the bathroom behind her to take a breath.

He could do this. He could share a bed platonically with his best friend with whom he was crazy about. It was fine, he lied to himself.

He brushed his teeth as slowly as possible to delay the inevitable. But with one final deep breath he finally opened the door and strode determinedly into the room…

Only to find Jemma already fast asleep in the bed.

Alright, well, that was an anticlimax. Fitz turned off the lights in the room and slowly slid under the covers on the opposite side. He held himself still as far over to the edge as he could, afraid to relax, lest his subconscious take over.

Eventually, however, the darkness and his tiredness combined with the steady rhythm of Jemma’s breathing to lull him into sleep.

He had no idea how long he had been out when he woke suddenly at the feel of a soft body pressing against his side. He cracked an eye open and glanced down to see Jemma tucked into the crook of his arm, lying half over his chest. Her leg moved, falling between his own.

Fitz wanted to stay awake and enjoy this gift the universe had given him. Likely Jemma would never be this intimate with him while awake; her sleeping mind had obviously been lured by his warmth. And Fitz intended to enjoy it and savour the feel of her in his arms, store up memories for the future. He fought against the blackness of sleep determinedly, but was eventually, reluctantly, pulled under.

Chapter Text

Fitz woke to sunlight hitting his face and the unfamiliar feeling of a warm body pressed against his side.

In his sleep-addled state, he pulled Jemma closer, brushing his fingers across her hip. She nuzzled further into his chest and her hand drifted drowsily over the fabric of his t-shirt.

At the sensation, Fitz's entire body jumped awaked and he tensed, suddenly aware of how compromising their position was. How would she react when she woke? Maybe it would be better if he arose now, saving them both the embarrassment.

But it was too late. Jemma yawned sleepily and tilted her head up to squint at him as her eyes adjusted to being awake.

"Morning," she murmured, seemingly unperturbed at finding them practically entwined on the bed. Fitz let out a breath.

"Morning," he returned with a slight smile, at a loss of what else to say to your best friend when waking in such an intimate scenario.

Jemma used her hand on his chest to lever herself up onto her elbow.

His breath froze in his chest at the sight of her in the soft morning light, with bed hair and her cheeks still flushed from sleep. She'd never looked more beautiful.

"Jemma," he exhaled affectionately before he could stop himself. Rather than throwing herself away from him as he would have expected if his brain was working at full capacity, Jemma searched his expression with an urgent curiosity. He tried to keep it as blank as possible, not letting his feelings shine through. He had no idea if he was successful, but her face abruptly changed to some emotion he couldn't identify.

The hand that was still resting on his chest began to move in slow circles. His muscles jumped at the sensation and he suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. Fitz held her gaze, trying to figure out what she was doing, both hopeful and afraid that he knew the answer.

A faint buzz began in his brain, growing increasingly louder. His body began to react as her hand drifted infinitesimally lower. He wanted so badly for this not to be his imagination. Was she really...

She leaned towards him as her hand continued to glide slowly downwards. Just as Jemma's fingers skimmed the top of his boxer shorts, there was a clutter outside and a cheerful male voice identified himself as room service.

Instantly, Fitz let out a surprised yelp and nearly fell out of the bed. Jemma's reaction was not much better, leaping up and making her way to the door. She was studiously not looking at him, and her face was crimson with embarrassment.

Oh god. She regretted what had nearly happened between them. Fitz was too busy freaking out about what this might mean for their friendship to notice Jemma coming back into the room rolling the room service cart. It wasn't until she cleared her throat that he snapped out of his anxious cycle of concerns.

She still couldn't meet his eye.

"Great, I'm starving," he managed to force out. She gave him a tight smile and turned back to the food, dishing out two plates.

He joined her at the small table, watching her small, tense movements.

"So," he began, but Jemma cut him off.

"Tea?" She asked with a faint trace of desperation. So they were going to pretend like it never happened. Jemma clearly regretted it quite aggressively. Great.

He sighed and held out his cup. It was going to be a long day.

`

Jemma seemed strangely off for the entire day and part of the evening. Their time had been full of talks and networking sessions that she clearly hadn’t paid much attention to. It wasn’t until after dinner that she regained some of her equilibrium. Even then, he sensed a brittle kind of regret every time she looked at him. Unfortunately for both of them, that was often, since now they had started the bloody charade they had to continue to fake being a couple.

The entire thing was setting his teeth on edge, making him increasingly frustrated. If she was going to regret it so much, why did she do it in the first place?

He didn't have an answer.

Fitz settled his hand lightly on her back as she talked to some scientific big shot he'd never heard of, and Jemma jumped slightly in surprise. She glanced over at him as the self-important man in front of her droned on. She gave him a questioning look and he gave her a bland one in return. They had to play a couple, after all. It was nothing to do with trying to find their new boundaries after breaching them that morning. And absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he craved the touch of her, now more than ever.

Still, a light hand on her lower back was the most he was willing to do without some kind of sign from her.

Jemma stepped slightly closer, leaning into him as any girlfriend might in such a situation.

“I think we should take a look around,” he breathed into her ear. Jemma giggled ( giggled!) in reply. Then, to his great surprise, she began to stroke his tie. It took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out what she was doing. In his defence, he was never at full mental capacity when Jemma was this close, let alone when she had her hands on him.

The moment made him feel brave enough to press a quick kiss to her skin, right behind her ear. She sucked in a sharp breath, and Fitz was sure he would get a talking to later. But he almost didn’t care.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” she murmured in an uncharacteristically throaty voice just loud enough for the surrounding people to hear if they cared to. Fitz let the heat of his desire for her that constantly smouldered within him flare to life in his eyes. Just this once it couldn’t hurt.

The irony didn’t escape him, that only when playing a role could he finally be honest with her.

Fitz heard Jemma’s breath catch in her throat and there was an answering burn in her own expression. Either Jemma was a much better actress than anyone realised or…

His train of thought was interrupted and immediately forgotten as a waiter bumped into his back, sending him a few steps forward with a clatter. Whatever spell had been brewing between was shattered, and Fitz remembered his role. He reached for her hand and entwined their fingers together, pasting on a smile that was far less real than his earlier expression.

“Let’s get out of here.”

She nodded in reply, looking a little disappointed. He really couldn’t figure her out lately.

The two of them left the party, and Jemma made sure to keep touching him all the way to the door. It was an exquisite kind of torture.

Once free of the crowds and hidden in a tiny alcove where they wouldn’t be discovered, Fitz turned on his earpiece to talk to the Bus. They hadn’t checked in since that morning before leaving the hotel room. He’d been too distracted by Jemma to even think of it.

“Skye? Coulson? Anyone?”

“Oh, there you are. We were starting to get worried,” Skye’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Is that them?” came harried Coulson’s voice from further away. Then, it was directed at Fitz. “I thought I told you two to check in regularly.”

“Sorry we worried you,” Jemma replied, clearly catching on. “We’ve had a busy day.”

“I never said I was worried,” Coulson muttered, but they ignored him.

Skye cut in again. “Oooh, a busy day of investigating? Did you find anything new?”

“Actually, we’ve been busy trying to be normal people. Not rousing suspicions, that sort of thing,” he replied. Skye made a noise of disappointment, so hurried on. “I did have an idea, though,” he continued, and Jemma gave him a surprised look. “Obviously, these people will need to store whatever this weapon is, and the most obvious place would be their room. Do you have access to security camera footage?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure that will help. There aren’t any cameras in the rooms.” Skye nevertheless sounded intrigued.

“Yes, but there should be footage of people entering the rooms. Any device that is capable of causing significant damage should theoretically be fairly large, and easy to spot.”

Jemma interrupted excitedly, catching on. “Obviously with this kind of convention a lot of people are bringing their prototypes with them. If you could send us footage of any visible devices, we might be able to figure out what they are and if they could do any damage.”

“I’ll get right on it. That’s a lot of footage to go through, though.”

“Send it all through as you go,” Jemma told her.

“We’ll have a look around anyway, see what else we might be able to find.”

“Alright, you two. But remember to check in ,” Coulson reminded them.

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Fitz and Jemma just looked at each other for a long moment.

“Where should we look first?” Fitz eventually asked.

Jemma smiled. “I have an idea,” she told him and began to lead the way. Fitz followed happily, glad to finally have a direction to focus their energies in this quest. It might save him from brooding over Jemma’s unusual behaviour.

Chapter Text

In their exploring, Fitz and Jemma encountered a door.

It wasn't the first they had seen during their hunt, as they had seen many normal doors, of the kind you wouldn't be surprised to find in any hotel. This was not one of those doors. It was instead a heavy-looking entrance to goodness-knows-where, with a fancy keypad built into it. There was no window for them to peer through, nor any sign to indicate what may lie beyond it. While this in itself was not entirely suspicious, there was one more thing that intrigued Fitz about this door.

"I don't remember this on the blueprints," he told Jemma as the two of them stood side by side, staring at it.

"Me neither," she said curiously.

"I think we should have a look," he said after a brief pause.

"Definitely," she replied with barely contained excitement.

With that, he got a small device out of his pocket and set to work. Jemma stood guard. In a matter of seconds, the door sprang open, revealing a set of steps descending down into darkness.

They leaned into the blackness, attempting to discern anything which they would encounter at the bottom of the steps. But nothing became apparent.

"Nothing for it," said Jemma and stepped in front of him to slowly begin her descent. Fitz's stomach churned at the sight of her being swallowed up by the darkness, but didn't say anything. He just stepped behind, closing the door and shutting them in pitch blackness.

He couldn't hear Jemma's footsteps, so he reached out blindly until he could touch her. He had no idea what part of her in was, but it made him sigh in relief anyway. Thankfully it turned out to be her shoulder.

They began their downward trajectory once again, going frustratingly slowly out of necessity.

"There was probably a lightswitch up there," Fitz muttered in irritation.

"We don't know what's down here. Best not to risk it, " Jemma replied sensibly.

"I should have at least brought the Shield prototype with me." He wasn't going to let his annoyance go so easily.

"We will have to think of a new name for that. Too confusing. But, yes, that would have been helpful." She was silent for a moment, and the caliginosity became immediately oppressive. "If it worked," she added archly.

"It works," Fitz said, defending his device. The argument was familiar, easing his worry about being on such unfamiliar territory. "At least forty percent of the time," he finished under his breath.

"Well," she began, then stopped. Fitz stepped down one more step and realised why as he bumped into Jemma's back.

They had encountered the bottom. Or at the very least a platform. Fitz ran his hand over the wall, finding the corners.

"I think there is a room or a corridor to the left of the stairs," he whispered eventually. " Empty space."

"I think I found the light switch," she said. Before Fitz could say anything, there was a click and insipid light flooded the long corridor that stretched before them.

Fitz swallowed, noting the number of doors dotted along the length of the corridors. "This might take a while."

They began to search methodically, Fitz taking the left of the corridor, Jemma on the right. Most of the rooms were empty and looked like they'd never been used. Some had rudimentary labs in them, but contained nothing other than tools. No sign as to what they (whoever they happened to be) were working on. One room seemed to be a control room, as it had banks of screens and buttons. One man was monitoring the feeds that Fitz recognised as hotel security camera footage, but the watcher didn't turn around when Fitz and Jemma opened the door and peeked in.

Fitz was just beginning to get disheartened when the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Someone was coming down the stairs.

Fitz opened the nearest door and pushed Jemma in before him. He had a brief glimpse of mops, buckets and cans of paint before he shut the door behind himself, once again throwing them into pitch darkness.

The closet was fairly large, but so filled with various cleaning supplies that standing room was scarce. Therefore, Fitz found himself pressed close to Jemma, their toes touching. She was so close he could feel her chest rise and fall with every breath she took. In, out. In, out. It was almost hypnotic.

Not wanting to lose himself in her, Fitz tried to subtly back away. With a scrape, his foot encountered an empty paint can that moved across the concrete floor. Conscious of the man outside, Fitz jumped away from the noise.

But he moved too fast, and couldn't use his feet to steady himself because there was no place to put them. Instead, he had to use his hands, bracing himself against the shelf behind Jemma.

At this point, he was practically on top of her, and Jemma had to grip his sides to keep from falling back. He froze, painfully aware of how perfectly her body fit against his.

Robbed of his sight, Fitz's other senses heightened to extremes. He could feel the way his jacket stretched across his back as Jemma fisted handfuls of it for leverage. He could smell her honey and cinnamon shampoo as it drowned out the acrid smell of turpentine. Worse, he could hear her soft breaths less than an inch from his mouth.

One of Jemma's hands released his jacket and slid around to his back. The other followed, until she was essentially embracing him. Each breath was painful as he tried to draw in enough air. He felt lightheaded, and was suddenly afraid he was about to faint.

Her breasts brushed against his chest, and he felt the slide of her dress again his shirt. He cautiously settled one hand on her lower back. Jemma's breathing gave an unmistakable hitch.

Fitz slowly straightened, Jemma still plastered to his front. He paused, unsure of what his own mind was planning to do next. Or whether it was his mind making the plans at all.

He wasn't sure which of them moved, or if it was by unspoken agreement, but suddenly their lips were pressed together, tentative and sweet.

The footsteps of the person outside retreated down the corridor away from them, but Fitz didn't care. He was kissing Jemma, and she was kissing back, and it was just as perfect as he had tried not to imagine.

It was not a fast kiss. It was soft and slow and increasingly thorough. She tasted like the champagne she had drunk earlier, light and fizzy. The taste of her was going straight to his head as champagne would, too, making his head spin to dizzying heights. The fact that her fingers were currently running through his hair in a sensuous rhythm didn't help matters.

He pulled her impossibly closer, knowing it could never be close enough.

The only sound in the small space was their increasingly harsh breaths as their lips met and clung again and again. He was utterly lost in her, the feel of her beneath his hands, the taste of her tongue against his, the sound of her breath hitching in her throat as he began kissing down her throat.

It was paradise.

It was also extraordinarily dangerous. A reluctant sense of responsibility penetrated Fitz's kiss-clouded mind.

He pulled back, away from her intoxicating mouth. He was nearly drawn in again by her whimper of annoyance, but somehow managed to stay strong.

"We've got to finish the search," he whispered against her mouth. He still had his hands at her waist, and felt her spine stiffen as she came back to herself and realised their precarious position.

"Right, yes, of course," she replied, clearing her throat in a lady-like manner.

Fitz allowed himself a brief smug grin at how affected she was by their kiss, but wiped it off his face as she opened the door and light barged its way into their hideout.

Before he could step out, Jemma threw out a hand to stop him. "This," she said, gesturing between the two of them. Fitz waited for her to finish, but she didn't - just looked at him expectantly - so apparently she had meant it as a question.

He tried to shrug expressively. Never the best at communicating his emotions, being in the middle of a dangerous mission rendered him even more mute than usual. Disappointment briefly clouded her eyes before she gave a determined nod and started off down the corridor. Fitz followed, frustrated at himself and his inability to talk when it mattered most. He promised himself he would fix it later, when they had time.

They continued their search, more careful now that they knew at least one person was in one of the rooms.

The rooms were more of the same - completely uninformative - until they reached a room at the end of the corridor. It was the only possible location of the person they had heard.

Jemma was the one to reach for the door, slowly easing it open. They both froze, shocked at what they saw. The plan of whomever they were hunting was beginning to clarify itself.

And Fitz rather thought they might all be screwed.

Chapter Text

The room was small and dimly lit. From their vantage point Fitz could see no human life. But his attention was arrested by the giant structure in the centre of the room, dominating their vision.

Its base was sleek, cylindrical metal, with clear tubes twisting out of the top reaching to the ceiling. In those tubes a fluorescent blue liquid pulsed and flowed. It was strangely beautiful, in an otherworldly kind of way.

But it also looked extremely deadly. Fitz had seen enough weapons to know. It wasn't until Jemma's breathed a horrified "oh, God," that he really understood the danger. She was staring at the blue substance above them with a terror he had never seen from her.

Before he could ask, a female face popped around the side of the cylinder.

"Who the hell are you?" she hissed, coming forward.

The two of them stiffened, then immediately turned and fled. Fitz could hear the woman's footsteps chasing them as they sped down the long corridor towards the stairs. There was a yell, then a second set of footsteps joined the chase. Fitz surmised it was the man watching the security feed that they had seen earlier.

The footsteps were gaining. They were in real trouble.

"Skye," he began after turning on his communicator. Only crackle returned. They must be too far underground for the signal to reach the base. The two of them were on their own until they made it out of this underground place.

Fitz sped up as they reached the stairs, taking Jemma’s hand and towing her after him as they took the steps two at a time. At least one of their pursuers was struggling. Fitz could hear the laboured breathing but didn’t turn around to check who it was.

The stairway was pitch dark, but Fitz didn’t slow and neither did Jemma. When he sensed they were getting closer, he held out one hand, feeling for the door.

When it came, it hit with more force than he’d thought. His shoulder jarred, but he ignored it, scrabbling to find a handle. It only took seconds but it felt like years by the time he finally wrenched the door open. He dragged Jemma out and slammed the door behind them.

Without discussion, both of them began moving in the direction of their room. Fitz had to hope they had disappeared around the corner before their pursuers saw them. It would buy them some time.

When he didn't hear any more pursuit after a few seconds, they slowed down and tried to look normal. Difficult with their breathing so out of control.

“Skye,” Fitz tried again, gasping a little as his lungs seized from lack of air.

“What’s up?” came her relaxed reply.

“We need to you to guide us safely to our rooms.” He almost heard her sit up and begin paying attention. “We have two people chasing us, and probably more any moment. We need a hiding spot.”

“On it,” Skye said. He could hear her tapping away at her keyboard in the background. He and Jemma weaved through the corridors, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

"Alright," Skye said eventually. "I can guide you back to your room, but there are some bad looking dudes swarming the lobby and halls. My guess is they are looking for you."

"They must be stepping up their plan," Jemma said from beside him, listening in. "Whatever that is."

"Have you guys found us an exit yet?" Fitz asked.

Skye paused for a moment. "Not yet," she said regretfully.

"Great," Fitz replied sarcastically.

"Turn left," Skye said urgently in their ears. They followed her direction.

"We'll find a way, Fitz," Jemma said in a voice soft with optimism.

He smiled at her, and her lips curled up on reply. It was only then that Fitz realised he was still holding Jemma's hand. He didn't let go.

Skye continued to guide them, with more urgency as the time moved on. Clearly the 'bad looking dudes' were making their presence known throughout the hotel.

"They are clearing out rooms, forcing everyone down into the auditorium on the ground floor." Skye kept them updated. Fitz and Jemma gave each other confused looks. What was their master plan?

Fitz and Jemma finally arrived without incident in their room. They were barely inside for a second when they heard doors opening at the end of the corridor, followed by confused yells. It seems the bad guys had reached their corridor.

Fitz had never so much wished he'd had weapons training. Or a weapon.

"The prototype," Jemma whispered quickly, nudging his shoulder and pointing to the case on the dresser. Fitz realised what she meant. It wasn't really a weapon, but it would have to do.

They each picked up one of the devices and waited, listening tensely as the sounds from outside grew closer.

It was time. Fitz and Jemma held their devices at the ready. The door opened.

Fitz had a brief glance of two men clad all in black, holding multiple deadly weapons between them, and the thought flickered through his mind that he should have told Jemma how he felt before he died.

The men raised their guns. Fitz waited. He had to do it at the perfect moment, or it wouldn't work. He could only hope the prototypes would be more reliable than they had been in testing.

The man pulled the trigger. So did Fitz. A brief burst of forcefield exploded from the front of the device. He dimly noticed Jemma's doing the same. The bullets ricocheted off the invisible barriers, bouncing back in the direction of the men.

The world slowed to quarter-speed. He felt like the whole world was moving underwater. He saw the bullets flying, then hit the two men. They dropped to the ground. After a second, the world sped back up to its normal pace.

He’d just killed a man. Hadn’t he?

Fitz stepped closer and saw that they were both still moving but losing a lot of blood. If they had immediate medical attention, they’d probably live. He looked at Jemma and could see the same thoughts running through her brain. Should we save them?

Jemma caught his eye, and for a long, agonised moment they just looked at each other. Then, as if by mutual agreement, they both disarmed the men and deliberately stepped over them, into the corridor.

Fitz held up his weapon threateningly. He tried to think of the most intimidating person he knew (May, his brain supplied immediately) and imitate them. He didn’t believe he was particularly successful, so he was glad when the only people in the corridor were the frightened scientists that had been herded together.

“Run. Hide,” he told them.

“But not in your rooms,” Jemma added. The group nodded and fled in different directions. Fitz wished he could help get them out, but he wasn’t particularly useful right now. No extraction plan, a weapon he couldn’t use with much accuracy, and a prototype that would take an indeterminate amount of time to recharge itself. It wasn’t exactly the dream spy kit.

But he still had Jemma. And that counted for everything.

Chapter Text

Fitz and Jemma headed down to the auditorium. If nothing else, they needed to get a sense of the villain’s plans. Even if they still didn’t know who the villain actually was.

Skye directed them past a number of armed security guards manning various stations along the way. They slowed down the closer they got the the auditorium, as the place was practically swarming with tough-looking people with guns, ready to shoot them if they got too close.

The gun Fitz was holding was heavier than he expected. Within a few minutes his arms were aching from carrying it. His hands began to sweat as the chances of being caught escalated. He gripped the gun tighter, attempting to take deep, calming breaths.

Ahead of him, Jemma looked only slightly calmer than he felt. He had a brief moment of wishing he could comfortingly grasp her hand, but knew that he would have to let go of the gun to do so. He wasn’t willing to risk his only form of protection. Besides, until they talked about that kiss downstairs, it was probably safer if he didn’t do anything to convey mixed messages.

His mind tried to drift into thinking about that kiss but he wrenched it back to the present. Save everyone first; figure out what was happening between him and Jemma second.

“Guys, we have a problem,” Skye’s voice crackled over their comms. “I can’t find you any entrances into the auditorium. Everything is covered. Doors, fire exits, everything. And they’ve disabled the camera feeds inside, so I can’t see what’s happening. But whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s big.”

Two security officers walked past the opening of their corridor, and Fitz pulled Jemma into an alcove out of sight.

“Thanks, Skye,” Jemma whispered. “Keep working on getting us backup inside. We’ll find a way to figure out what’s going on.”

“On it,” Skye said, then disconnected.

“Right,” said Fitz, realising just how close he and Jemma were standing in the cramped alcove. He leaned back against the wall behind him with a thump, getting out of her personal space as much as he was able. His head became marginally clearer.

“Did you bring the blueprints with you?” Jemma asked.

“Ah, yeah.” He pulled out the tablet from his jacket pocket, having kept it there in case he got bored during one of the endless parties they had to attend. He held it out to her, screen up. Instead of taking it, she put her hand under his to hold it steady, then used her other hand to bring the blueprints up.

Fitz’s heart beat a little faster.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, watching as she twisted the 3D blueprints around, zooming in and out on certain sections.

“A way to get a vantage point. We don’t actually need to get into the room. We just need to see what they are doing in there.”

“Oh, clever.” He reached in himself and expanded a certain section. “Air vents?”

Jemma gave him an exasperated look. “This isn’t a movie, Fitz.”

“I’m aware,” he snapped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But look at these blueprints. They are abnormally big air vents. For once being small might do us some favours.”

She smiled softly at him. Her thumb stroked briefly over the hand she was still supporting with her own. “I’ve never minded us being small.”

“Given the way you seem to admire people with height and muscles, I just assumed…”

“There are far more attractive things in this world, Fitz. A nice face, kind eyes, a good brain.” She looked up at him expectantly, her thumb still moving soothingly over his knuckles.

“Right. Good. I feel the same. I mean, you’re beautiful...not you specifically...well, yes, you, but-” Fitz stopped himself. Jemma smiled up at him, seemingly unperturbed by the mess he had just made of the English language.

“We should go,” she whispered. Fitz thought that maybe he wasn’t imagining her reluctance.

“Yeah.” Fitz pocketed the tablet and the two of them took off in the opposite direction to the one they had been travelling in before.

“So, who do you think it is?” he hissed under his breath.

“Who?” she replied.

“Who do you think is the mastermind of this? You’ve talked to more people here. And you read them better.”

A pleased smiled curved her mouth at the compliment. “Honestly, this place is like a breeding ground for mad scientists.”

“My money’s on Greg. I never liked him.”

“That’s because he’s an wanker.”

“True.”

“Sadly, that doesn’t make him evil, or we would be neck deep in supervillains.”

Fitz sighed. “Also true.”

They stumbled to a stop at a large air-conditioning vent in the wall beneath the side table. Fitz immediately crouched down and pulled out his Swiss Army knife while Jemma stood lookout. He quickly got to work on the screws, his hands deft with the familiar task.

The screws fell out with ease, and Fitz went to crawl inside the black hole. Jemma’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I should go first.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m smaller than you. If the vents start getting more restrictive, I’ll be less likely to get stuck.”

Fitz sighed, realising he didn’t have time to argue. “Alright. Just...be careful.”

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “Of course.”

“We’ll have to be quick. I won’t be able to put the vent back on once we are in. No doubt they will find out where we have gone without much trouble.”

Jemma glanced around with a frown on her face. Her eyes caught on something and she gave a triumphant smile. She trotted off, and Fitz saw her destination: an abandoned maid’s cart a few doors down. She took a clean sheet off the trolley and folded it as she strode back to him. Fitz lifted the flower arrangement off the table as she threw the sheet across as a makeshift table cloth. The hole was completely covered.

“You’re a genius,” he told her.

“I know,” she replied happily.

The two crawled under the table and adjusted the sheet. Then, Jemma squeezed herself through the gap and Fitz followed. There was just enough room for him on hands and knees, but his head lightly bumped the ceiling with each step.

Fitz raised his head to complain only for his eyes to land on Jemma’s swaying butt ahead of him. He quickly ducked his head back down. Fitz focused on putting one hand in front of the other, following Jemma through a complicated series of turns that he had no hope of remembering.

Jemma stopped suddenly, and Fitz’s head collided with her rear end. He quickly backed up, face flaming.

“We’re here,” Jemma whispered over her shoulder.

“What do you see?” he asked.

She was silent for a moment. “Not a lot. The slats on the vent don’t give the best angle. Do you want to have a look?”

“Sure, but, uh…”

“Oh, right, I’m in the way.”

“If you…”

“If I…like this.”

“I’ll just…”

After the most awkward maneouvering of his life, Fitz and Jemma lay on their sides facing each other. Their legs were entangled, their chests pressed together, and their breaths were mingling with each pant. Fitz closed his eyes in an attempt to get himself under control, but it just heightened the sensations, making everything worse. The cool metal of the vent was pressed tight against his back, and he focused on that. The heat in his blood slowly reduced to a low level hum.

“What do you see?” Jemma asked softly. Their eyes locked, and all Fitz could think about was how distractingly intimate their positions were. Her lips were only a few inches away.

“Fitz?”

“Oh, right.” He snapped out of his reverie and craned his head up to see through the vent.

The first thing he caught sight of was the terrified crowd. Even from this distance he could see the tension rippling through them all. Many were huddled together, others hunched in on themselves, gripping the chair arms as if their life or sanity depended on it.

He shifted, trying to get a better angle, and landed half on top of Jemma.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine,” she replied.

“I think I see someone at the front on the stage, but I can’t see much of them. Can you identify them?”

He shifted down, and he and Jemma changed positions. Now he was the one beneath her. He steadied her with his hands on her hips and his brain became distracted by a multitude of other scenarios that would involve this position. He almost missed what she was saying.

“That bitch!”

“What?”

“It’s Trudi. She’s standing up there like she owns the place.”

“Seriously?!” Fitz sat up too quickly and Jemma’s head banged against the top of the vent. She winced in pain and began rubbing the area. Fitz subsided sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she gritted out.

“What are we going to do?” he asked. “We still don’t know what that machine in the basement was.”

“Well, about that…” Jemma began.

“You know what it is?”

“I have a suspicion.”

“What kind of suspicion?”

“A very bad one.”

“Tell me,” Fitz said, sounding braver than he felt. His heart pounded in fear as she shifted uncomfortably against him. Well, mostly in fear.

“I think it is a toxin, stored in liquid state. But I have a feeling that the machine won’t keep it in that form. It will be converted to-”

“Airborne gas,” Fitz finished. “It’s a chemical weapon.”

“I believe so.”

“Do you know what the effects will be?”

“Without doing some tests, I can’t be sure. I think we can assume that death will be one side effect.”

“Right. It was a pretty distinctive colour when we saw it. Are you sure you’ve never seen anything like it before?”

Jemma thought about it for a moment, scratching her finger against his shirt. “Well…” she began. Fitz waited. “Back at the academy, Trudi had an experimental formula that was almost that colour.”

“And what did it do?”

“Nothing. At first.” She took a deep breath. “But after it had incubated for a few hours, or days, it would hit, killing the person almost instantly. Worse, it spread through the air.”

“So anyone they came in contact with in that time would also be infected?”

“Basically,” she confirmed. “It was still in the very early design phase when I last saw it. She was discouraged from pursuing the project for obvious reasons.”

“We weren’t at the Academy to design chemical weapons like that.”

“No. At least, we weren’t,” she corrected, gesturing between the two of them. “It appears that Trudi was.”

“So what are we going to do?” Fitz asked. His heart pattered nervously as he waited for her answer.

“We’re going to stop her,” Jemma announced.

Fitz swallowed.