Adagio.

Don't pass the cards to me to deal the crushing blow.

[wipetheledgerclean-blog]

[Natasha’s hand moved against her jaw where Ward’s fist connected with the skin and bone and she smirked.] That’s gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurt me. 

[Not losing her cool, she watched him grow confident and looked forward to wiping the smug look off of his face.] Poor thing, are you having a bad day? I’m sorry but it’s only going to get worse. Well - [She started with that same smirk.] - I’m not really sorry, no. [And with that, she started on a series of punches using his body as a punching bag, aiming for wherever his guard was down - abdomen, face, throat, chest, you name it.]

[pettynarcissist]

[He'd expected Natasha to start punching him, but he hadn't quite anticipated just how much she'd let loose. There was nothing methodical about the way she attacked. No grace, no expert timing. She was simply out to hurt him. He respected that. Deflecting one blow, he caught her fist with his hand, gripped it firmly and used the momentary reprieve to bring his knee up into her gut.] This is just embarrassing. [Ward's hand reached down to grab a fistful of her hair, forcing her head back until she was forced to look up at him.] The Calvary hit harder than this.

I don't know, is it me, or is your heart not in this? [He released her hair, punched once more before throwing her face-first against the nearest wall.] I don't know, maybe you just like getting beat on. [His body pinned hers against the wall.] Don't worry, I'm more than happy to oblige.

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

In the Night Garden Pt 3 || Ward & Jemma

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

Traitorous mole. It was with that label that Jemma realised that she had done to Hydra exactly as Ward had done to SHIELD. Even with her crinkling smile, the new flush to her cheeks, those words still sunk in. She was a traitor to the opposition, although hardly any good at it. “I was doing quite well until someone else blew my cover,” she assured him, “I got what I needed and I got out. Just like you did, just for a shorter amount of time.”

With her hand in his, pulling her to her feet, Jemma teetered on the brink of keeling over, almost losing her balance until her hand caught his waist. Even for the most brief of moments, it helped her to regain her balance; and the rise of cologne she got off of him wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Her second discarded bottle joined his on the coffee table as she situated herself upright with the flash of a sheepish beam. It had been a long time since she had had anything more than a glass of wine to drink.

The logic behind her reasoning definitely came from the part of her brain most inebriated, for her thoughts were not that of a sober woman’s. No, Jemma was giggling like a child after a glass of cider, walking with a slight tilt towards the kitchen. “If we’re going to do this at all, then we’re going to do this right.” She’d regret this in the morning when she had to put out yet another chemical fire, when the running made her head spin. “I swear I’ve got something stronger in here if you’d fancy.” With a hand to brace herself against the wall of the pantry, she had a look for the spirits that she knew were stashed back there. Vodka, for certain. Something that she kept for cleaning or sterilizing coming in handy once more.

[pettynarcissist]

Having already witnessed Simmons stumble more than a couple of times simply getting from her chair to the kitchen, Ward decided to stick close behind her, keeping one hand on the small of her back in an attempt to steady her. At least, that's what he told himself he was doing as his fingers, very consciously, gently pushed up the back of her top just an inch and his thumb began to trace circles on the newly exposed skin. "Stronger's good," he drawled absentmindedly. He scanned the pantry for a few moments before his free hand finally claimed the prize he was hoping she'd have. Tequila. 

Yanking the half empty bottle from the shelf, Ward, somewhat reluctantly, tore himself away from the small confines of the pantry and, by extension, Jemma. He staggered across the kitchen, careful not to bash his shoulder against anything as he hunted for a pair of shot glasses. "God, I'm gonna feel like hell tomorrow.." he mumbled, setting the glasses down on the island in the centre of the kitchen. Hopping up onto the counter top, he poured out two tequilas, slid one across towards Jemma and raised his eyebrows. "Na zdorovie," he intoned in what he considered a fairly good Russian accent. 

Downing his own and doing his best to ignore the subsequent and powerful bite, Ward picked up the bottle, already well on his way to pouring himself a second glass. It'd been a good long while since Grant Ward had gotten drunk with anyone besides himself. Longer still since he'd had a genuine smile on his face or felt anything besides hate and self-loathing. He wasn't keen on letting that go any time soon.

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

In the Night Garden Pt 3 || Ward & Jemma

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

Her nose twitched in amusement, taking the new bottle in one hand and placing the empty on the floor with the other, picking her feet up and tucking them under herself. Jemma stifled a grin and knew, just knew, that it was coming along as some form of wobbly smirk. “I am actually a human being, you know,” she told him, eyes starting to crinkle around the edges, “And I’m going to tell you right now that sleeping in the lab is really not a very comfortable thing. I’ve done it enough times, as you can imagine, but it’s not quite as fun as I thought it would be.”

With another mouthful from her bottle and a happy kind of buzz settling in her head, Jemma was keen to relax a little more. Her sense of urgency had since dilapidated, which probably wasn’t a good thing, but she wasn’t arguing. “That said, I only got this place a couple of weeks ago,” she said, eyes running around the room at all the fixtures and odds and ends that just couldn’t go in the lab. The floorboards were a little worn out, but they had been since before she moved in, somebody to discuss with the landlord, maybe.

She reached out with her foot to prod at Ward’s knee carefully before tucking it back underneath her, an eyebrow raised. “So where are you staying, something like The Ritz?” chirped the girl, canting her head to rest against the armchair. Her grin had betrayed exactly how comfortable she was, and it should have worried her. Hydra was in her living room and she was smiling as if it were no big deal. “Four Seasons? It’ll be some big, fancy name, huh? Oh! Do you know Dr. Michaels in the biology lab? How is he?”

[pettynarcissist]

"Hey," Ward exclaimed with a quiet chuckle, nudging Simmons back with his knee. Jemma's lazy but impossibly bright grin, was perhaps one of the most disarming things Ward had ever witnessed. If he were sober he would have had a hard time looking away, but now he was mildly lubricated it was a physical impossibility for him not to watch and return the grin in kind. "Yeah, it's less of a Ritz and more of a Travelodge," he replied with a hint of bitterness. "Let's just say Hydra doesn't pay much better than SHIELD. They've got great dental though."

One mention of Dr. Michaels suddenly reminded Ward of Jemma's brief but surprisingly effective stint as a double agent. "Michaels?" he shook his head. "No, can't say I know the guy. Honestly, I'm still surprised you lasted as long as you did. Your poker face is hilariously bad." Ward teased, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he cocked his head. "Kind of offended you never came down to see me actually. I know a thing or two about being a traitorous mole. Could have taught you a thing or two." 

The pain in his shoulder had long since subsided and earlier events of the night were nothing more than a distant memory at this point. His second beer finished, Ward got unsurely to his feet. "Ready for another round?" His hand reached out for Simmon's. "Come on, Jemma. Don't let me down now." Strong, callused fingers, still lightly stained with dirt gunpowder residue, slid around her much daintier hand and he pulled the SHIELD agent clumsily up. 

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

In the Night Garden Pt 3 || Ward & Jemma

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

There. The bitterness had jaded with the snug confines of a band-aid and a drink, revealing the man that Jemma had befriended nearly a year ago now. A whole year ago. Three hundred and sixty five days since they had jumped on their ‘journey into mystery’ and here they were on completely different sides of the fence. Fate was a cruel mistress, and mishappenings happened to be her lover. She caught the beer through to her, went through the formalities of opening the bottle and letting the cold warm her hands.

Just as he did, her eyes stayed away from the images on the fridge, and locked on her sock-clad feet. Mismatched socks. One pink and white and the other navy. Typical that the one day that she find trouble in organisation be the one day that she end up with a felon in her house. “I appreciate your sacrifice,” said Jemma, batting back his fleeting smile with her own, “Now come kick your feet up for a bit. I’ll monitor you until I’m sure you’re not going to keel over.” She slipped out of the kitchen into the living area and fell into her armchair, letting the too-soft cushions and the blanket available swallow her up.

She was downing her drink too far to be healthy, two thirds gone by the time she let her head loll back against the back of her seat. With Ward in her home - her home, which she wasn’t entirely sure he couldn’t have tracked down if he really needed to, but nevertheless, she had lead him straight to it - nowhere was safe from Hydra. With a cross on the back of her head from one direction, and the pressure to step up and run the department from the other direction, the woman wasn’t entirely sure that having a drink right now was a great idea. But boy, did it dim all the chatter in her head.

[pettynarcissist]

Ward wasn't sure whether Jemma was downing her beer because of the ordeal the two of them had just been through or because he was still intruding in her home. In either case, he followed suit. Before long his bottle was empty and his head suitably numb. Despite it being well over an hour ago since the two of them had been shot at, the adrenaline rush was still in full swing, his blood pumping furiously around his body. Where one beer would have at one time had little effect on him, now it was enough to have a noticeable effect on him. 

Without even asking if she was interested, Grant grabbed two more beers from the fridge and set one of them down in front of the biochemist. He was more than likely overstaying his welcome at this point, but if she threw a complaint in his direction, he supposed he could always try and pull the whole "I got shot in the shoulder for you" card. He perched himself on the small coffee table in front of her armchair, forcing down a gasp of pain as his shoulder jolted. The beer was certainly numbing the pain somewhat, but not quite enough yet. 

"You know, back when we were on the Bus, I didn't even know you owned an apartment. I figured you just slept in the lab," he said, extending his arm out and offering the beer to her. "You and Fitz worked yourselves so damn hard I didn't think you even understood the concept of free time. Now, not only do I find out you own a sweet little pad, but you also stock beer." He took a swig from his bottle, giving a little nod of appreciation shortly after. "The good stuff, too." His lips quirked up as he hunched over, briefly holding her gaze. "Who would have thought it?"

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

In the Night Garden Pt 3 || Ward & Jemma

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

The bottle of beer had been placed in front of him somewhat unceremoniously, the loud bang the glass made against the countertop shot her shoulders to hunch around her chin. His chagrin fell off of him in waves, something intangible but brutally visible - It only helped to make the back of her neck prickle with stress. Jemma had been easy to fumble over a friend and to believe that the only thing to fret over being whether he’d be back in a week with pulled stitches. SInce then, he’d turned around and stabbed them in the back - the knife hadn’t even been fully pulled out, lest the wound started to heal.

With a furrowed brow, the girl set to work on Ward’s arm, running disinfectant over his skin, mopping up the majority of the blood simultaneously. “You could be kind about it, stoic,” she muttered, twitching a curl in her lip up at him, “I’m doing you a favour here.” Thumb pressed to display the wound to her, digging in to what she knew would bruise later, she grabbed her tweezers to pull out the tiny pellet. Somehow, she’d have someone in ballistics run over it. “Sorry about the pain. I’ll get you something for that.”

It wasn’t long before she was bandaging up his shoulder as she had done before; only this time, she was pressing against the swell of nostalgia just as she had pressed against his wound not a minute before. Either way, it both hurt. Jemma turned, looking over his arm with appraisal, then moved back to the medicine cabinet to grab a couple of heavy duty painkillers. Hell, she chucked him the box. He would need them more than she would. “Take these for as long as you need them. Don’t get addicted. And don’t call me if you pull those stitches.”

[pettynarcissist]

Screaming on the inside, yet unflinching on the surface Ward found himself focusing on the fridge just opposite himself, as Jemma continued to work on his wound. Pictures of the old team were laid out haphazardly across the surface of the door, awakening yet another bout of nostalgia in him. As if he needed more of that. Casting his gaze away before that indefinable and wholly unwelcome feeling of longing crept back in, he instead turned his attention to the biochemist, finishing up the work on his arm. 

Quick and methodical. She was as adept at healing people as he was at breaking them. Glancing idly over the box of painkillers she'd just thrown him, Ward threw them down on the counter without a second thought. He'd known enough pain in his life to be able to mask it without the aid of a few pills. Instead, hands covered in blood, sweat and dirt, curled around the beer on the counter and he summarily cracked it open on the side of the counter. "You're not having one?" he asked, waving the bottle in her direction before taking a swig from it.

"I did just take a bullet for you, you know. The least you could do is share a beer with me." Resisting the overwhelming urge to tear down the pictures on the fridge as he approached it, he pulled the door open, grabbed a second beer and chucked it in Jemma's direction. "Come on, Simmons. Humour a poor sinner man," he finished, lips curving up into something between a smile and a smirk.

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

In the Night Garden Pt 3 || Ward & Jemma

She had pointed Ward in direction towards her home, ushering him up the stairs, wooden floorboards whispering conspiratorially that they were indeed, a little too old for the building. They were on her to-do list. Following up close enough behind him so that should he trip or stumble, then she’d cushion his fall, Jemma wrinkled her nose in displeasure at this entire notion. Neither of them had noticed it in their rushing adrenaline, the small, although hardly less deadly, bullet that had bit into the flesh of his shoulder. Naturally, Jemma had assured him that she would stitch him up the second he pulled back to hers, unless, of course, that he had anything better to do?

Not with that wedge of metal in his shoulder, he wouldn’t. On the other hand, neither would she should SHIELD find out she were helping a Hydra fugitive. Even less, Grant ‘New Kinds Of Expletives’ Ward.

The second Jemma had him settled at the kitchen island, she was kneeling on a chair in order to get into the medicine cabinet atop her fridge. Tweezers, gloves, disinfectant. “Stop fidgeting and let me get you fixed,” she told him, raising an eyebrow. Needle, sutures, salve. “Can I get you anything? Take your pick, I can guarantee, I’ll have it somewhere.” Tea, coffee, alcohol. Hopping down from her chair and kicking off her shoes, hanging up her coat and snapping on latex gloves that - to be honest, although she would never let anyone know - she loathed, Jemma rounded the kitchen bench to tend to him.

"C’mon. Let me have a look at the damage," prompted the woman, trying a small smile at Ward, as bitten back as it was.

[pettynarcissist]

Saying "no" to Jemma Simmons, it turned out, was a lot like sitting through an Adam Sandler movie without wanting to claw your eyes out; impossible. The moment she saw the bullet conveniently lodged in his shoulder, he knew she's already made up her mind. There was no way he was leaving her sight without the proper medical care. "Beer," the man growled in response to her question as he collapsed unceremoniously against the kitchen counter. Instinct and training kicked in as he tried to straighten up. Attempted to be the good little soldier who did as he was told. He'd been shot and stabbed more times than he could count, but this never got any easier. 

"Just get it over with," Ward snapped as he turned, offering his shoulder to her care. He'd never been particularly fond of Doctors operating on him. It was infuriating, the thought of having to put your life in another's hands. He would have pulled the damn thing out himself if it didn't hurt so much every time he moved. 

How many times had Jemma done this, he wondered. The first time he'd come back from a mission with a wound, her hands had been shaky and somewhat uncertain as she'd treated him. She had all the skills and the training, but she was sadly lacking in real world experience. Then with every passing mission, she'd grown more confident. She'd stitched him up so often, over the months, that she probably knew his body better than he did. Despite his better judgement, he trusted her. Probably more so now that she knew who he really was, as crazy as that sounded.

[fromdusks]

dante alighieri the inferno

[wipetheledgerclean-blog]

[And people used to say he was as good of a spy as she was. Not from where Natasha was standing, which was above a kneeling Grant Ward, courtesy of herself.] Mistake number… Oh, who’s keeping track of them, anyway? 

[She scoffed and gave her sleaziest smile.] You don’t deserve my best shot.

[pettynarcissist]

[Wounded, slightly winded and incredibly brassed off, Ward swung at Natasha, catching her across the jaw.] You know, this is the first time I can hit a woman and not feel bad about it. 

[His grin was wide. Cocky, even. Showing off exactly the kind of over-confidence that had been his downfall so many times before.] You can't imagine how much beating you is going to improve my day.

[wipetheledgerclean-blog]

The only thing you deserve is a blow to the head. It might help with the inflated ego.

[Natasha rolled her eyes, looking to the side. She began to count to ten, but got as far as three before she connected the side of her hand with his throat, knocking the wind out of him.] You’re right. There was a smile there.

[pettynarcissist]

[Wholly unprepared for the attack, Grant gasped, staggered and ultimately fell to one knee as he struggled to retain not only his footing, but his composure.] Didn't think you had it in you.

[He stood, fists clenching while he studied her movements.] Please tell me that wasn't your best shot.

[wipetheledgerclean-blog]

You assume too much and give yourself more credit than you deserve, Ward. Really? I’d sooner call it a scowl which will lead to your ass being handed to you.

[pettynarcissist]

No one else gives me the credit I deserve, so I have to pick up the slack.

"And the award for most impotent threat goes to..."

[wipetheledgerclean-blog]

You do look good for a rat. Which isn’t a compliment, don’t be confused.

And that was not a good enough reason. 

[pettynarcissist]

Come on Romanoff, we both know you've always had a thing for the bad boys. Look at you. You can barely contain yourself. I think I can even see the beginnings of a smile starting to form. 

[wipetheledgerclean-blog]

Give me one good reason why I should do that.

[pettynarcissist]

Because I'm rakishly handsome and undeniably charming?

[pettynarcissist]

I know it's tempting to punch me in the face, but I'm gonna need you to curb that impulse. At least for today.

[pettynarcissist]

The Waters Around You Have Grown | Simmons and Ward

It'd been an uncomfortably long time since Grant Ward had gone out in public without the need to go incognito. Sometimes he wondered whether there was anything left of the man beneath all those masks he'd worn for years. And if there was, was that man worth salvaging? If anything, he was desperate to bury that Grant Ward and burn any evidence that he'd ever existed, That Grant Ward had a future. That Grant Ward had dreams and hopes. That Grant Ward would be ashamed of the man he'd become. He'd despise him, like everyone else in his life did. Fitz. Skye. Coulson. Simmons.

It'd been easy to assuage is guilt when he'd looked at his old team mates as nothing more than obstacles in his path. Collateral damage. It was nothing personal. Perhaps that had been true when Garrett was around and he'd actually had a mission. Without him and without a goal on the horizon, Ward really wasn't sure what he believed any more. It was one of the reasons he'd sought out Daniel Whitehall in the first place. Despite his tenuous past with them, Hydra was more or less his only home now. And they were more than happy to put a man with Ward's particular skillset to good use. 

His first mission had been simple. Keep tabs on Coulson's team. He knew how they worked and he knew how they moved. He was the perfect man for the job. Should they prove a risk, he'd been given leave to cross any of them off he saw fit, but that thought wearied him. Still, after all this time, he was hesitant to pull the trigger. That was a weakness he'd have to address and erase at some point. But not today.

Keeping close to a large group of people as he entered the large, government building, Ward kept his eyes on the brunette just a few steps ahead of him. Jemma Simmons. Honestly, she was the last person he'd ever expected to be tailing. For the majority of the time he'd known her, she'd barely left the lab. Now, apparently, she was a priority target for Hydra. The times they are a-changin'.

[pettynarcissist]

In the Night Garden Pt 2 | Simmons and Ward

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

Oh, she really didn’t like this. All that they’d asked for was twenty minutes to sit and have a chat, eat too many doughnuts, and finish a crate of beer. Clearly, none of that was allowed to happen and that was why they were here, getting dirtied knees and attitudes that were generally just kept for work. Jemma didn’t care that Ward had a gun of his own stashed away somewhere, she hadn’t thought of any less - It was practical and logical. This practical though, she wasn’t sure. So she did as she was told, ducking out behind the tree to fire into the dark, a bullet plunging into the ground right at her foot. “Fucking hell.”

What was slightly more kindly to hear was the mumbled cussing from the gunman, as the chink of the bolt refused to catch, and the magazine was restocked. She took the opportunity to release the last of her own cartridge in the general direction, before she flit back to her bag to open up a new one. Sure, none of her hits landed, but that was considering that she wasn’t freaking out, so that was something. Jemma tripped on her way over, boot catching on the root of a tree, ending up pulling herself to her rucksack. At least Ward knew what he was doing, he could handle this better than she could.

[pettynarcissist]

He heard the rustling just off to his side as Jemma moved into position. And then she was firing, unloading what remained of her clip in the gunman's direction. He risked a quick peek over the side of the fountain. The gunman had stopped firing. Ward was doing screwing around with this clown. Standing, he took aim, closed one eye and waited for the man to resurface. He heard the all-too familiar click as the gunman reloaded his weapon. Finger gently squeezing around the trigger, Ward waited for the man's head to pop back up and then immediately took the shot. 

The other man didn't make a sound as the bullet found it's mark. There was just a dull thud as his body fell back and then, silence. For a while all Ward could hear was the steady tinkling of the water in the fountain. It took a moment for reality to come rushing back headlong towards him. Jemma. Holstering the gun, Ward immediately mad a move towards the tree Jemma had crouched behind. "Jemma?" he shouted, his eyes still scanning the area, praying there wasn't a second gunman. She'd taken far fewer shots than he had in the fight, but it would just be his look if she'd managed to catch a stray bullet. If she'd died under his supervision... He brushed the thoughts aside, instead focusing on the task at hand as he rounded the tree. "Jemma, are you okay?" He asked and crouched down beside her, tentatively reaching out with one hand.

[sebstian-stan]

“I’m not brave any more darling. I’m all broken. They’ve b r o k e n me.”

[pettynarcissist]

In the Night Garden Pt 2 | Simmons and Ward

[biochemjem-deactivated20151122]

Everything went in slow motion from the second she managed to grab cover behind the tree, the whole world pacing itself out. First moment, she was grabbing to pull herself behind the tree, dragging her rucksack to sit at her feet, forcing her mouth to shut. It would not do to die with such a horrified expression on her face. Second moment, listening to the gasp and crackle of the concrete smashing and flying everywhere, the scuffle of Ward flinging himself to the ground, the muttered curses. And all whilst her ears were ringing and the colour was draining from her face. All at once, Jemma was paying for her illicit nighttime meeting.

Her anger subsided when the fire aimed for Ward and not for her - It wasn’t he who had ordered the hit for her. And if she hadn’t ordered it for him, who the hell was this?! Single fire, so one gunner. They had been sitting North-facing and the hit had come from her right, thing North-east. If she was facing South-east now, and they could assume the shot was elevated, then the gunman was about seventy-five degrees to her left. It was all a matter of trajectory, right? “‘M fine!” In all honesty, she wasn’t sure what she was, but one thing was for certain - she wasn’t hit. Headlamp off, definitely time to get rid of that. Her fingers yanked at the drawstrings of her rucksack to pull out and load the I.C.E.R.s with an easiness she’d only recently acquired. When Ward asked for a bit of assistance, Jemma didn’t hesitate to answer, instead sucking in something along the lines of courage, and bounced out from the tree and fired in the direction of the noise.

With her sudden reappearance, a bullet flew over her shoulder and her breath skipped her lungs. That was too close. How on earth would she explain why she was in a garden at night and got shot to Fitz? Jemma ran to the next available tree, glaring back at the man behind the fountain. The lack of a reassuring thud from a successful hit on her part was awful disappointing. “You alright? You haven’t been hit?” she hissed, stopping to recalculate their positions in relationship to their hidden enemy.

[pettynarcissist]

Before Ward knew it, Jemma was firing, which only confirmed to him that she'd been carrying a gun the whole time. It wasn't exactly unexpected though. In fact, he'd be disappointed if she hadn't have brought one. Using the distraction Simmons had provided to his advantage, Ward popped up from behind the fountain and quickly scanned the area. By the time he'd spotted him, he barely had time to get off a couple of misplaced shots before having to dive back behind the fountain. A couple more shots ricochetted around him, one of them whizzing awfully close to his left ear. 

"I'm fine," he grumbled. He was more annoyed at himself than anything, for not having noticed the sniper until it was too late. Just because he'd been with Simmons, didn't necessarily mean he could let his guard down. God damn. He'd really lost his edge. Attempting to shuffle his way along the side of the fountain, aiming to get into a better position, he was stopped almost immediately, three more shots landing around him, effectively pinning him to one spot. "I don't know about you, but this guy is really starting to piss me off." He shuffled down a little further, his fingers tightening around the gun his right hand. "Give me some covering fire."