AN ~ some Daisy & Coulson fluff! with a healthy serving of background Philinda. for @marvelthismarvelthat, who prompted “Daisy & Coulson + ‘my hands are shaking’”, along with some other prompts I’ve filled previously. I went an angsty/hurt/comforty route with the first prompt and now - and especially after the recent Daisy Coulson feels </3 - I couldn’t help but go fluffy with this one. Hope you like it!
Rshps: Daisy & Coulson, background Philinda, also some background team and background Quakerider. (And a Special Guest!)
Rated G. Set in the distant/indistinct future. Fluff with a little cheese. Enjoy!
Read on AO3 (~1000wd)
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“Knock knock!” Daisy called, more of a formality than anything as she pressed the door open with her shoulder and entered the room. Coulson was over by the mirror, intently focused on arranging and rearranging his tie, and muttering under his breath. Daisy could feel the tension radiating off him from the doorway. She smiled: it was unusual to see him so flustered, and though most of it was probably due to frustration and nerves she was still determined to chalk it up to love.
“Daisy!” Coulson cheered when she entered, glad to have an excuse to momentarily abandon the uncooperative strip of material. He waved her over instead. “Could you get this please? My hands – well my hand – is shaking, and my prosthetic doesn’t seem to be much good for this.”
Daisy clicked her tongue disapprovingly, shaking her head for the theatrics. “That Fitz. It’s just not good enough. Never know when you might need to tie a Windsor to military precision in the middle of a battlefield, do you?”
“Exactly,” Coulson agreed, playing along. “You get it.”
Daisy bit her lip, grinning as she pulled the tie into shape. His problem now addressed, Coulson relaxed and the smile soon returned to his face too; dreamier and more hopeful than Daisy could ever remember seeing him. She stepped out of the way so that he could give a final check over his appearance: a fine grey suit, with red features in the tie and pocket-square to match May’s dress. He tugged it so the lines sat more flatteringly, tried undoing the button and then doing it again, fixed his cuffs – his anxiousness was so adorably boyish, like he was waiting for his prom date, that Daisy almost laughed, but she bit it back.
She bit it back, and watched in fond adoration as Coulson’s expression once again became wrapped up in thought. Thought of today, thought of May. How often had Coulson dreamed of it, Daisy wondered. She’d never seen him and May as the type for getting married, but maybe that’s just because they were older and more understated in their affection than she was used to. How many chances like this had Coulson given up in his life? May, Daisy knew, had had Andrew and lost him, not once but twice over. Coulson, too, had had a sweetheart – not a fiancée, she didn’t think, but a possibility. A cello player, that’s all Daisy remembered, and he’d had to leave her too. Shield had taken so much from each of them – taken their chance at this sort of life – and yet still they pursued it. They circled back to each other. Or, rather, they’d never left each other. Maybe that’s why Daisy had never seen today on the cards, because it seemed so much like icing on the cake.
(That said, of course, Daisy was never one to turn her nose up at cake.)
Expected or not though, the day was upon them, and the rising hubbub outside Coulson’s dressing room reminded Daisy why she had come to fetch him in the first place. The door swung open and Mack stuck his head inside, and ordered them to get a wriggle on. Daisy waved him off and when he left, Coulson took a deep breath.
“Hoo, boy,” he breathed. “This is happening, isn’t it?”
“I know you are not telling me you’re having second thoughts,” Daisy warned. He shook his head.
“The opposite,” he assured her. “Actually, I kind of felt like I was dreaming ‘til just now.”
It was not hard to see why. A well-planned, if small wedding, in a beautiful if small church, where their names would be officially registered – all charges cleared – and photos would be taken and their lives would be interwoven, romantically, irrevocably, forever… It had never been on the cards before; at least, not since a man named ‘Agent’ had once died and ended up saving the world.
“It says something about our lives that this is a weird day, huh,” Daisy remarked.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Coulson reminded her. He shook his head, smiling fondly – it didn’t take much to turn his mind back to the task at hand. He gestured Daisy’s way toward the door. “So, how does this work? Are you going to give me away?”
“No, I’m flower girl, remember?”
Coulson shrugged. “Worth a shot. To be honest I’m not sure how this works, now that I’m an old man ‘n all.”
“How’s this,” Daisy offered, “I’ll walk you to the doorway. And I promise I’ll call an ambulance if you have a heart attack when you see her.”
“Do you really think that’s likely?”
“Oh, I’m not talking about May,” Daisy baited, letting the air of mystery linger a moment before she went on. “I mean, May is stunning, so look out, but actually I’m talking about another special little lady. A friend of mine tracked her down. Polished her up…”
Coulson’s jaw dropped. “No.”
“… a girl who looks even better in red than I do?” Daisy continued, teasing.
“No!” Coulson gasped, realisation clicking into place. Daisy pulled out her phone and showed him the picture: Robbie Reyes gesturing somewhat smugly to the car. His beloved Lola. Reyes was sitting on the bonnet but at this point Coulson didn’t even care. He could have cried, just from looking at it. So many memories of that damned car, and all he could think about was taking it down a desert highway with May at his side and silence and no-one and no responsibilities around them for days.
“She’s here, she’s outside,” Daisy explained. “When the ceremony is over she’s ready to take you guys on your honeymoon!”
“Daisy,” Coulson choked tearfully – “this is-“
“The least I could do,” she insisted, just as tearful herself. “The least we could do, me and Robbie and the whole team, for all you’ve done for us. Congratulations. I love you. All that. Now- let’s get out there before I ruin my make-up!”
Waving, she herded him toward the door, and Coulson was only too happy to oblige.
Piper had seen many looks of disappointment directed her way over the past 24 hours. Each look just made her more and more disappointed in herself. It had seemed perfectly logical to trust General Hale at the time. The woman was Air Force. Piper had been in the Army before SHIELD. She knew that being military didn’t automatically mean you were a good person, but it didn’t automatically mean you were bad either. No more than being a SHIELD agent meant you were actually Hydra.
Piper hoped the team would forgive her eventually. Every time one of them visited her cell to bring her meals or ask her what the hell she’d been thinking, she’d reiterated her sorrow and her desire to do anything to make it up to them. Still, each wore a look of disappointment.
It was May’s look of disappointment that hurt her the most. They’d had the whole mentor-mentee thing going on, not to mention Piper’s giant crush. She wanted forgiveness from the entire team, but May most of all.
She heard movement and voices outside her cell door and took a deep breath, bracing herself for yet another look of disappointment from one of her friends. The door opened and Piper gasped as Davis walked through the door—his face in a neutral expression, her mind noted even as her brain panicked at seeing a dead man.
“What the fuck?! I thought you were dead!” she blurted out as he sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall opposite the bench she was sitting cross-legged on.
“I got better,” he told her, deadpan.
“But last I saw you, that psycho bitch had grabbed you. How the hell did you survive?”
Davis turned his head so she could see the long scar going down the side of his face. “She almost did,” he admitted. “I was lying there in the rubble, dying, when this cyborg dude shows up out of nowhere and gets me to a hospital. When I woke up after surgery, Tiffany was there. She told me that Deathlok had saved me.”
“Fuck me,” Piper muttered, still in shock. “How’s Tiffany doing, by the way?” Piper asked. She’d only met Davis’s wife a couple times, but they’d gotten along well. “I’m guessing she’s had the baby by now, right?”
“Right,” Davis agreed, a proud grin appearing on his face as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to show off pictures of an adorable baby girl with tufts of dark brown hair. “We named her Emma Maxine.”
“She’s perfect.” He put his phone away and stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles. “So, what happened with you?”
She sighed. “I fucked up, man. I trusted someone I shouldn’t have, and now the entire team is fucked, and I don’t know how to make it okay again. I’ve apologized like a thousand times; I’ve told them I’ll do anything to earn their forgiveness—and I really mean that I’ll do anything—but so far all they’ve had me do is sit in this fucking cell.”
“I’ll talk to Coulson,” Davis said. “I can’t promise it’ll do any good—”
“No, man, anything’ll help! Thank you!”
They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. “Did you ever imagine this is how your life would turn out?” Piper asked.
“No,” Davis answered immediately. “But I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, except for the almost dying part. That wasn’t fun.”
“I’d change my actions these past few months for sure,” Piper said. “Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” Davis said. “I can’t speak for them, but from I’ve seen, they’re a pretty forgiving bunch.”
“You’re gonna be a good dad, you know that?”
Davis grinned. “I hope so.”
A knock sounded on the cell door and an unfamiliar voice called out, “Davis, they’re ready.”
Davis stood, looking apologetic. “I’ll come visit later,” he promised.
Piper stood as well. Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around Davis in a quick hug, letting go before he even had time to hug her back. “Thanks.” Davis punched her playfully on the shoulder and left.
Piper sat back on the bench, left alone once more with her thoughts. She knew Davis was right when he said the team was a forgiving bunch. She’d seen their forgiveness first hand after Daisy had nearly quaked Mack apart. She hoped they’d be able to extend that forgiveness to her, once they’d dealt with the crisis of the week.
@daisysdanvers asked me to write something about FitzSimmons adopting a child, based on the cutest pic ever Caestridge pic with Benny. So here it is!
Summary: Daisy and Fitz discuss Fitzsimmons's most recent acquisition (Spoiler alert: it's not lab equipment.) (Super spoiler alert: it's a child.)
Daisy rubs the space between her eyebrows, closing her eyes. She can feel a headache forming there, and she is only starting to deal with this mess.
"So you are telling me that Simmons straight up kidnapped this child.”
“No, that’s not what-, it’s just that-, um.” She fixes Fitz with a stern look, and he inhales and composes himself before trying to reply again. “No, not really. But also, we are not supposed to have her, legally. So, sort of, um, yes.”
“Walk me through it,” she asks, and when she sees that he is about to go on a tangent-babble again, uses her best impression of May’s no nonsense tone on him. “Slow. There was a small child involved in our last mission. How and why is that child currently in your apartment with your wife?”
Thanks for participating everyone! Here at last is the masterpost of this month’s challenge entries, celebrating our favourite platonic relationships of Shield!
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Daisy & May and/or Coulson
For the World by @b00k-freak (brotp: may & daisy, philinda & daisy) - Daisy can’t sleep, not that that was unusual these days between her SHIELD duties and the baby currently kicking her kidneys.
No Matter What by @b00k-freak (brotp: may & daisy) - May comes back to the base and finds out what happened to Daisy. She sure as hell isn’t going to let her be alone right now.
Drabbles
“my hands are shaking” + May & Daisy by @b00k-freak
“I don’t want to be alone” + Daisy & Coulson & May by @theclaravoyant
“my hands are shaking” + Daisy & Coulson by @theclaravoyant
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Fitz & Daisy
out here in the dust (if you don’t have trust) by @theclaravoyant (brotp: Fitz & Daisy) - after their argument in 5x12, Fitz and Daisy have a conversation
Drabbles
Fitz & Daisy discuss FitzSimmons’ adopting a kid [drabble] by @florchis
“will you sing something for me” by @theclaravoyant
“I had a bad dream about you so now I’m calling to make sure you’re okay” by @florchis
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FitzSimmons Family - FitzSimmons & Deke
Pieces by @agentcalliope - Deke wants to know more about Fitz and Jemma; wants to know more about himself.
Circle of Life by @the-nerdy-stjarna - Deke needs to help when Jemma goes into labour.
Stories by @agentcalliope - Deke’s pretty sure that intelligence is genetic. He’s beginning to think that being an asshole is too.
Somewhere that’s green by @the-nerdy-stjarna - In one of the previous time loops, Fitz talks to his daughter about her mother.
Welcome to the dark side... we have gluten free cookies by @the-nerdy-stjarna - A sequel to Wake up where the clouds are far behind. FitzSimmons and Deke family bonding.
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Other (specified below)
the someone I want to be by @agentcalliope (brotp: fitz & elena) - after 5x11, Fitz reaches out to Elena and helps her to deal with her new circumstances.
Happy Stimming by @agentofserenity (brotp: women of shield) - Jemma, Daisy and May help Bobbi to feel more comfortable with stimming and introduce her to the wide wonderful world of stim toys and chewelry.
Can You Imagine? by @unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot (brotp: b squad) - Post 5x11, Davis goes to visit Piper in her cell.
Maybe Enough by @buckysbears (brotp: may & fitz) - Fitz has a meltdown while Daisy is hospitalised after 1x13, and May comforts him and helps him calm down.
the fire’s out (but still it burns) by @theclaravoyant (brotp: Daisy & Mack, Daisy & Fitz, Mack & Fitz) - In the aftermath of 5x14, Mack helps as best he can as Daisy struggles to deal with what just happened.
Drabbles
“I just want to be close to somebody for a bit. Is that okay?” + Skimmons by @agentofserenity
“I just want to be close to someone” + May & Fitz by @buckysbears
May & Jemma + stars by @buckysbears
“come here ya big lug/small fry” + Daisy & Mack by @florchis
“just take my hand, it’ll be better, I promise” + Jemma & Bobbi by @agentofserenity
“I’ll hold you as long as you need” + Daisy & Hunter by @theclaravoyant
“I don’t want to be alone” + Fitz & Bobbi by @theclaravoyant
Genealogies. Every footnote in M Archive: After the End of the World refers to M. Jacqui's Alexander's Pedagogies of Crossing. #MisforMarch (at Baltimore Convention Center)
A/N: Skimmons, brotp or otp you can pick. Three times Jemma has a panic attack after the pod. Trigger warnings for panic attacks and ptsd.
~1900 words
Read on ao3
I
Her breath comes in sharp, wheezing pants that echo like the clatter of needles against the pristinely white bathroom tiles. High-pitched, uneven, searing in her collapsing chest. The metal shower knobs bite into her palms. They’re turned all the way off, but she feels that if she lets them go, the deluge would crash down on her again.
Jemma doesn’t know how long she’s been curled up on the damp, squishy shower mat. Long enough for her hair to dry in matted clumps that stick to her shoulders, for streaks of soap to crust over in sticky stripes down her arms. She scrambles for purchase, but there is nothing in this room to hold onto. White walls, white sink, white porcelain. Rough blue towels from Walmart, off-brand toothpaste, no pictures, no texts waiting on her phone for her, nothing personal.
She drags in another gulp of air that doesn’t seem to hold any oxygen. It’s water in her lungs, in her mouth. She’s drowning again, she is always drowning, why can’t she stop drowning?
What if Hydra found her out? What if they burst in and find her like this and this is how she dies? Drowning in an empty tub, too afraid to make it through a shower. Her chest is so tight and her stomach churns and her pulse roars in her ears like the surf, like wind as she falls, like –
There are footsteps in the apartment above hers. Someone laughs in the stairwell on the other side of the wall. A door rattles open down the hall. But her door is locked, and the bathroom door is locked, and nobody knows she’s here. Nobody’s coming unless it’s with bullets raining, and she has to keep holding back the deluge or she will drown.
II
She has to keep reminding herself that it’s over. That Agent Morse – Bobbi – saved her, and H.Y.D.R.A. is not going to murder her in her sleep. Probably. And yet, it doesn’t feel over. It doesn’t feel like she’s home. It doesn’t feel like she’s safe.
If she closes her eyes, though, sometimes she will catch familiar scents and know a moment of peace. Skye’s shampoo. Trip’s favorite take-out. The polish Coulson used on Lola. May still buys the same lilac dish soap, and Jemma is concentrating on that and not the sound of water streaming from the faucet as she rinses the mug of tea Fitz hadn’t drunk.
She inhales the scent of lilacs and tries to block out the sound of Trip and Mack and Hunter hooting over video games in the rec room. Trip caught her eye as she lingered in the doorway, trying to find her bearings in this strange place with these strange people. He’d gestured for her to join, but she’d glanced at Mack and shook her head, offering a smile that stretched too tight as she’d retreated down the hall.
She breathes out and pretends not to notice the way Skye skirts around her, grabbing a bowl and a box of cereal and the milk carton and going somewhere else to eat instead of staying in the tiny kitchen with her.
She breathed in and tries to wash Fitz’s voice, demanding an explanation for her disappearance, from her thoughts. Tries to wash away Mack’s hard words, looming height, cutting eyes, turning himself into a human shield in defense of her best friend. Against her.
She breathes out and thinks of Coulson’s hand on her shoulder and May’s relieved eyes and Bobbi standing between her and one of her worst nightmares come to life.
But the water is so loud.
Jemma slams the faucet handle down. The tinny patter of water against the metal basin stops abruptly. She presses the handle down with all her might, leaning into the sink, letting her forearm resting on the lip of the counter bear all her weight. She tries to get a hold on her stuttering breath, tries not to let it echo in the kitchen as it comes high and jagged.
There’s nothing in this room to hold onto. It’s cold and dark and unfamiliar. The mug slips from her fingers and cracks in the sink. She closes her eyes and tries to slow her hammering heart, but everything is spinning. The boys are whooping down the hall and Skye’s loud, boundless laughter reached her from somewhere and there is the ever-present hum of an active base that comes from all around, but no one’s coming . There’s not enough air in her lungs to scream even if she wants to.
Gunshots from the video game ricochet around the kitchen and she feels the whiz of Hydra bullets inches from her cheeks. Their eyes, hungry like wolves, bore into her, their smiles dripping blood. Their stained hands touching her shoulders, her arms, the small of her back. No, this alloy will hold up better … that chemical compound won’t work…I’d like to think I’m on your side . How much damage have her words done by now? How bloody are her lips?
She presses down harder on the handle, but the rushing still fills her ears, and Donnie Gill’s body is crashing into the water and he’s drowning and she can’t breathe.
III
She should have thought about it but she didn’t. Should have checked the weather. Noticed the pearly gray of the overcast sky. Made an excuse not to go, not risk putting herself here in this position. But she’d been too caught up in the mission, in what she was supposed to do, in what good could come out of her time at Hydra.
She doesn’t think about it until the first raindrop hits her face. Sharp and cold. An electric shock.
She’s kneeling in an alley, waiting for their Hydra target to appear, flash bomb in hand, ready for a drop of the right substance to set it off. Waiting until she sees his face. Skye and Trip and Hunter are in her ears, talking about the mark, talking about the mission. Trip says something and Skye laughs and she doesn’t follow because little shining droplets have started dappling the cement around her and the soft patter is all she can hear.
Her breath snags in her chest.
It’s just rain .
She forces her grip to ease on the delicate glass tube in her fist.
It’s just rain .
Rivulets trickle down her scalp like icy fingers.
It’s not just rain. The sky is bursting open, dropping cubic tons of water on top of them. The air is thick with moisture in her throat. Her heart is pounding hard and she would like to run, to seek shelter, to pull the covers over her head like she did in her hydra apartment the few times thunder rattled the windows, but the weight of all that water pins her where she kneels in the alley.
“Simmons, that our guy?” Hunter’s asking, and she tries to see, tries to squint into the storm, but all that’s there are sheets and sheets of water.
“Simmons?” Trip’s voice and she can’t answer, can’t pry words from her lips for him.
“Simmons, report,” Skye, anxious, concerned.
She can tell them nothing. Cannot ask for help. Cannot wave off their worry. Doesn’t know which she’d do anyway.
“Fuck, it is him - could really use that bomb right about now,” Hunter, breathless, probably leaping into combat.
It wouldn’t work well with the moisture even if she could see which way to throw it. She presses her back to the cold brick wall and drags in breath after breath, listens to the sounds of fighting and the others’ voices, all slowly drowned out by the rush of the rain.
There is nothing to hold onto. Nothing to stop the flood. She’s going to drown here.
Her skin has gone numb from the cold and possibly the hyperventilation when movement catches her eye. She doesn’t turn to look, can’t actually respond at all, but she sees the shape of a person emerging from the mist. And then suddenly Skye is kneeling in front of her, biting her lip anxiously.
“Jemma? Hey, can you hear me?”
Her voice comes from a long way away, but Jemma can hear it. She just can’t say so.
Skye slips her icy fingers into Jemma’s. “You don’t have to say anything, just try to squeeze my fingers if you can hear me, okay?”
Jemma tries. She really does. But it’s like the tether between her brain and body has been cut. She can’t even twitch a finger.
“Okay,” Skye says again, rubs her hands up and down Jemma’s arms as though she’s trying to warm her up. “Okay. It’s gonna be okay, alright? It’s gonna be fine.”
She pulls off her leather jacket and leans forward so she can tent it over both of them. Their faces are inches apart and the water has stopped hitting Jemma’s face and she can feel Skye’s warm breath mingling with her own and this is something to hold onto.
And eventually Jemma starts to thaw. Can move, first just to rub her thumb over the pads of her fingers, then enough to squeeze Skye’s knee, and somehow they stand up, and make it into a coffee shop down the block and the rain still coming down but in the back they can’t hear it over the soft rock and the sound of orders being called and she can take her first real breath in who knows how long.
“Dark Cloud says it’ll let up in ten minutes,” Skye reports. Her jacket is over Jemma’s shoulders and somehow there is a steaming cup of tea pressed between Jemma’s palms. She flips her phone around so Jemma can read the radar herself, see the proof that it’s not going to last forever. “The boys are gonna pick us up once it clears up.”
Jemma nods, tries a sip of the tea, blows out a shaky breath. Her stomach is still tight and her chest is still buzzing, but she can move and she keeps moving to remind herself. Drums her fingers on the cup, scrapes the toe of her shoe over the tile floor, jiggles a knee under the table. The clouds are going to pass and they are not going to drown.
Skye’s watching her. She leans forward, her face like she is going to say something, but then she changes her mind and looks over Jemma’s shoulder at the pastry shelf, leans back again, fidgets with hem of her soaked shirt, then the sugar packets.
“Look,” she says finally, splaying her hands on the table between them. “We don’t have to talk about this here - now - if you don’t want to but… has this… happened before?”
Heat rises to Jemma’s cheeks and her insides squirm and she doesn’t want to do this. But it has been so painfully painfully lonely, and here Skye is offering her a hand, a way out of the isolation of her own head and - she nods, can’t help but nod. Her cheeks burn and she stares down at the top of her cup, and she is probably going to regret that, regret admitting what a mess she’s become -
Skye reaches across the table to pry one of Jemma’s hands loose and her grip is warm and tight.
“We’re gonna work on that,” she says, promises, and Jemma grips her hand back and holds onto that.
There was an odd certain amount of respect that buzzed between the three on the quinjet ride back to base.
And rather than feeling unnerved about it, Jemma felt grateful. Maybe Mace was a man they could… trust… after all.
But still…
“I wish Vijay had chosen S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of the senator. Who knows what horrors he’s encountering right now?”
Daisy reached over and took Jemma’s hand, squeezing briefly, and Jemma’s eyes flicked over to Daisy’s in gratitude.
Mace looked back and forth between the two until he finally said, “The camaraderie that’s displayed with you six really is something else.”
Jemma smiled, releasing her hand. “Well, if you only knew what we’ve been through…”
“Agent Johnson shed some light for me on that.”
Jemma turned towards Daisy who only shrugged.
“I may have mentioned your multiple kidnappings. And Maveth,” Daisy’s tone was casual, but Jemma knew she was highly amused.
Mace let a out a low whistle. “Color me impressed. You’re your own force to be reckoned with, aren’t you?”
“I’m glad you finally recognize that, sir.”
Mace pursed his lips. “There’s something that you mentioned, Daisy, that makes a lot more sense. When we were on the quinjet, trying to figure out how to bring back Agents Fitz, Coulson, and Robbie Reyes…” Jemma could feel Daisy tense beside her, and she knew Daisy was worried about what happened to Robbie.
They all were.
But for Daisy, it was different. They were vigilantes. True vigilantes, working together. A partnership.
Daisy had confided in her a bit about their relationship, and even though Jemma didn’t approve of all of Robbie’s actions, she was thankful Daisy had someone.
Even if wasn’t their team.
Even if it wasn’t her.
“…you mentioned Fitz pulling Simmons through space through a rock. What – I mean, what did you –”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Fitz got her back.”
“I’m surprised, Mace. Weren’t you briefed about the events on Maveth, and the consequences that followed, when you became director?”
“Sure, I was. But Coulson conveniently left you and Fitz out of the debrief.”
Why on earth…
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Daisy voiced Jemma’s thoughts.
“My guess is… he didn’t trust me enough to inform me about your role in it.”
Jemma was still confused. “But why would my involvement have any merit –”
“Think about it, Jemma,” Mace interrupted, not unkindly.
Jemma locked eyes with Daisy who appeared as puzzled as she was.
What was Coulson trying to achieve? How would Mace knowing about what happened with her and Fitz…
Oh.
“He didn’t want you to see my history with Fitz as a threat. He was afraid of you splitting us up,” Jemma said slowly.
“You were very upfront and forthcoming about your relationship with him. I mean, you were sharing a bunk for crying out loud.”
“But Coulson didn’t want you to know just how much they meant to each other,” Daisy added.
Mace chuckled. “It was a solid, commendable plan. Although, the lengths he took were a bit unnecessary. It took me all of five minutes to realize the strong connection you two had.”
Jemma winced, “He told me about his confrontation with you. Sorry about that. Fitz can be a little…
“…intense,” Daisy supplied.
“Yes.”
“Hey, the guy had a legitimate reason. He knew I was being blackmailed by Nadeer. Hence the whole bag-over-your-head thing.”
“Which was a shitty move,” Daisy said. “But if you didn’t do that, we never would’ve found out about Vijay.”
“A lot of good it did us,” Jemma muttered darkly.
“We did everything we could,” Mace repeated his words from earlier. “And, for what it’s worth, both of you should be commended for your work today.”
“Thanks?” Daisy cocked her head.
“I’m serious. I’m blown away by the strength and heart of your team. I only hope that, moving forward, you’ll allow me to be a part of it.”
Jemma and Daisy shared a look.
“Well,” Jemma began, her eyes dancing with mirth. “It’s quite a relief to be able to trust our director. And you know what they say that about a team that trusts.”
“I dare you to finish that thought.”
“Wait, I forget,” Daisy said with her own shit-eating grin. “A team that trusts is a team that… wins?”
“Conquers?” Jemma suggested, straight-faced.
“Succeeds?”
“Excels?”
“You two are hilarious, you know that? If this whole agent thing doesn’t work out, you should go into stand-up.” Mace cut in drily.
“Hey, you chose the hokey slogan. That’s on you, man,” Daisy said.
“I may have read one too many motivational self-help books to prepare for my position.”
Daisy and Jemma burst into laughter.
It felt really, really good to laugh.
“Carnegie really spoke to you, didn’t he?” Jemma teased.
“In my defense, Dale was a visionary.”
“And here I was thinking you were a Who Moved My Cheese? kind of guy.”
“Watch it, Agent Johnson.”
-
This could be an explanation for why Mace was so #shocked when Daisy mentions Jemma on another planet. Because you’d think the events on Maveth would’ve been the first thing Mace was informed about by Coulson or Talbot.
[Did you catch my little nod to one brilliantly titled episode?]
When am I not gonna participate in a rewatch? I ask you… when?? Thank you, @ughfitz for heading up another one. Let’s get a season five, folks!
Feel free to submit any and all prompts! Still working on many, and still writing in response to the last aired episode because yes.
This was so much fun, thanks for the prompt! This got a little long, so I’ll put it under a cut (because I finally figured out how to do that, I think I deserve some applause)!
M is for March is for Mates: Jemma x Hunter
It all begins when Agent Davis and his wife decide to move into an apartment off base. Up until then, they had inhabited the biggest bunk on the Playground, but with them moving out, the room was now free and the demand for it was big.
“Fitz, we have to convince Coulson to let us move in there! It would be perfect, don’t you think? I’ll go talk to him right now!” Before Fitz has the time to voice his opinion on the matter – not that he is against it – Jemma has already stormed out of the room and is on her way to Coulson’s office.
With only a quick knock on the door announcing her entrance, Jemma bursts through the door. “Director Coulson, sir, could I talk to you about Agent Davis’ room? I promise it’ll only take a mome-“
“Sorry sweetheart, looks like I beat you to that.”
It is only then that Jemma notices Hunter’s presence in the room. He is leaning against the wall across from Coulson’s desk, smug grin plastered onto his face.
Jemma’s confidence falters for only a second. “You? Why would you want the room?”
“Newsflash Simmons, you and Fitz aren’t the only ones on the hunt for a new love nest.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and flashes her the fakest apologetic smile Jemma has ever seen.
“Thank you, Agent Hunter, I did not need to hear that”, Coulson speaks up, face scrunched up in a grimace. “Listen, both of you will have to fill out the usual application for a new room. It’s not up to me to decide.”
He’s lying and they both know it, and that’s when it all starts going downhill. They both want this, and they want it bad. Fitz and Bobbi try their best to stay out of their significant others competition, but soon the entire base has to suffer from their fight over the room.
“Coulson, my man!”, Hunter shouts as he walks into the kitchen one morning, a big cup and a bag full of coffee beans in hand. He places both on the table in front of Coulson, earning him nothing more than a glance from the director. “Thought you might like to start your day off with some good ol’ caffeine! I had my mate in Colombia ship those to me.” He nods towards the coffee beans. “They’re the best you can get.”
On the other side of the room, Jemma grows more frustrated with every word she hears. She stares down at the tea she is currently brewing with fresh herbs from a local tea shop May had recommended to her and huffs out quietly. Fueled by determination, she puts the sweetest smile she can manage on her face, grabs the cup and turns around to enter the one-sided conversation between Hunter and Coulson.
“Actually, sir”, she chimes in, “I think you should try this.” She slides the cup of tea across the table until it comes to a halt in front of the Director. “It’s herbal tea. You’ll get your dose of caffeine and it is much better for your heart!” Realizing the implication of her last statement, she quickly backtracks: “Not that you need to take care of your heart! I’m not saying you’re old! Ugh. Anyway, May personally recommended this tea to me. You’ll love it.”
Coulson’s eyebrows furrow as he eyes both of the beverages in front of him. “Get to work. Both of you.” He rises from his chair, grabs Hunter’s coffee and leaves, mumbling to himself.
Jemma shoots Hunter a furious look and earns a shoulder shrug in return. He grins and uses his fingers as guns, pointing them at her. “Lancebob 1, Fitzsimmons 0!”
The remark should have angered Jemma, but while it certainly does to some extent, it also spurs her on. When she storms out of the kitchen, she could have sworn she saw Daisy mischievously nudging Trip with her elbow.
Over the next few days, Jemma goes to sleep at 2am and wakes back up at 4.30. She barely sleeps, she even snatches some of Hunter’s coffee beans to stay focused longer. She finishes 4 projects she and Fitz had been working on, she finishes up two days’ worth of lab reports in less than 12 hours, and she restocks all their lab resources at least twice a day.
The next time Jemma runs into Coulson, she has dark circles under her eyes, but her smile is unwavering as she hands him the six files he had asked her for less than two hours ago, and when he nods approvingly, she feels like performing a victory dance. Coulson passes her to enter his office, and when he does, she catches a glimpse at Hunter standing at the end of the hallway, holding what looks like a single, lonely file.
When the door closes behind Coulson, Jemma finds herself doing something incredibly silly; she pushes her fist up in the air and laughs: “Watch out, Fitzsimmons is catching up!”
Jemma allows herself to gloat for only a little bit until she returns to full-on competition mode.
But it only lasts a few days longer after that, until Coulson puts his foot down on the whole thing late one afternoon. “Enough!” His prosthetic hand comes down on the kitchen counter with a loud thud, when both Jemma and Hunter each present him with a tray of freshly made English scones. “Enough now! You are agents, not some middle schoolers in a popularity contest! And besides, the room has already been assigned to someone else, so you two can stop that little game of yours now!”
He exits the room without so much as glancing at the scones, leaving both Jemma and Hunter with their mouths hanging agape.
“What? But… Who? I worked so hard! Who did-?” Jemma’s eyes wander around the kitchen as if she expected the answer to her question to be written on the walls somewhere.
Behind her, Daisy suddenly clears her throat and gets up from her chair to loop her arm through Jemma’s. “Sorry babes”, she says apologetically, “but while you two Brits were engaging in the Hunger Games, I took my chance and moved mine and Trip’s stuff into the room a week ago. Looks like Tripdaisy wins!”
With that, she gathers two hand full of scones and follows Coulson out of the kitchen.
Jemma stares after her in disbelief, when suddenly Hunter barks out a laugh next to her. “Well, that’s certainly what I’d call an unexpected turn of events.” He laughs again and shakes his head, then lightly slaps Jemma’s shoulder. “I don’t know about you, Simmons, but I coul use a beer right about now. Let’s go, first one’s on me.”
