I'm not jealous
Secret Santa here reporting for duty for shieldedsimmons! I've had a blast writing messages to you and working on your gift. I really hope you like it! And also don't mind that I took a bit of creative liberty with your prompt :)
Prompt: Fake-married and holidays
Summary: Jemma Simmons hated undercover for many reasons, but being jealous was certainly not one of them.
...
“I’m not jealous.”
“It’s okay if you are, Jemma. I mean, I am pretty far out of your league.”
She set the tablet back onto the table with a heavy sigh of frustration. “Fitz, listen to me, I am not jealous.”
Fitz pulled out the chair next to her to sit down, the grin never quite leaving his face. “Are you sure? Really sure? It’ll just be me and Skye, all alone, practically married of all things. Anything could happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Despite her feigned annoyance, Jemma couldn’t help but smile fondly and place a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Because I know you, Fitz. I trust you. And besides, you got over that puppy love you had for Skye ages ago.”
“I never liked Skye! Honestly Jemma, that’s absurd!”
She watched him for a second, all too amused as he tried to cover the blush that was creeping up his neck. “You know I can read you easier than an elementary chem textbook, right? ‘Oh Skye, let me show you around the Bus!’ ‘Skye, I made this compact to match your complexion!’ ‘Simmons and I aren’t that close Skye! Not like we are!’”
“You know I hate it when you use that voice, that’s not even how I sound. Honestly Jemma, we’ve known each other for twelve years now, the least you could do is get the accent right.”
She opened her mouth ready to give her own retort, but was cut off with the sound of the lab doors sliding open.
“Fitz, there you are! Well, don’t you look positively dashing?” Skye announced brightly, looping her arm through her soon-to-be undercover husband’s. “I’m gonna look like the luckiest girl at Hydra’s annual holiday gala.”
Simmons rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Skye, it’s hardly Hydra’s party. You know as well as I do that it’s a party for Dr. William Burin’s recent study of blood duplication, and the device- ”
“Which he is selling to Hydra in an under table transaction. On Christmas. A Hydra Christmas party. God Simmons, what’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“It’s because she’s-”
Simmons fixed her boyfriend with the steeliest glare she could muster. “Don’t you dare say it Leopold Fitz.”
…
“The device is located on the third floor and is heavily guarded, May and I will let you know when to move in.”
“Thanks Jemma.”
“It’s my job.”
The annoyance in her voice was clear, and Fitz couldn’t help but smirk as he pictured her rolling her eyes in that way that was just so characteristically Jemma Simmons.
The party was in full swing by the time they arrived, with couples filtering in and out of the large house which seemed to be nearly filled to the brim. They made their way towards the entrance, where some burly, definitely Hydra, agent stood guard, but it wasn’t until they had rounded the final corner that Skye looped her arm through his, just like she had earlier in the lab, and plastered a wide, almost lovesick, smile on her face.
Fitz cleared his throat, ready to play the part for all that it was worth. "Richardson.” He told the guard.
The man barely bothered to look up. “You’re not on the list.”
His heart started to pound almost unreasonably hard as a hundred and one scenarios of how horrifically this could play out filtered through his mind. Skye tightened her grip on his arm, but never once faltered in her facade. “Of course we are. This is Dr. James Richardson, world renowned leader in the field of...of...”
She started to trail off, searching desperately for the words to fill in the blanks. So he did the first thing he could think of and planted a kiss to her forehead. “Darling, the man doesn’t want to know my life story.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the folded up card Coulson had given them and handing it over. “Here’s our invitation sir.”
The man reached out a hand to take it from him, but only got half way before being pushed hastily out of the way by a woman with a grin so wide Fitz was almost certain his own cheeks were hurting.
“Did you just say you were Dr. Richardson? My God, I’ve read all of your papers on the study of gifted individuals. They’re life changing, truly.”
It was hard for Fitz to hide the look of disgust that was creeping onto his face. He had read these papers himself in preparation for this mission, but unlike her, had determined them to be less scientific than they were simply grotesque. The man he was impersonating, who was currently detained by SHIELD, had led an incredibly private life, and spent the majority of his abundant free time dissecting and experimenting on people he believed were not completely human in origin. People much like Skye. Reading his research had nearly made him ill, and the high praise he was receiving from this woman made his blood boil. He chanced a look at Skye, whose glare had turned cold in her carefully restrained anger. He pulled her arm from his in order to hold onto her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by this woman.
“Oh, would you look at you two. Have you ever seen a young couple so obviously in love?”
“Oh, please.”
Skye smiled graciously at the woman, though her grip on Fitz’s hand grew only tighter. “Thank you Ms.-”
“Sharpe.”
“Ms. Sharpe. It seems like we’ve been together for ages, though it’s really only just been three years, right honey?”
“Two and a half actually, we only met three years ago.”
Skye giggled, slapping his shoulder playfully. “Semantics, sweetie.” She said, placing a kiss to his cheek before turning back to Ms. Sharpe. “We met three years ago, but it took him five months before he decided I really wasn’t all that intimidating and that he was hopelessly in love with me. We were together for a month before we packed our bags and left for a whirlwind trip across Europe, ending with a train ride through northern Italy, where James popped the question. The rest, I guess I can say, is history.”
“Oh, how romantic, truly.”
Ms. Sharpe nodded politely, before gesturing inside. “Why don’t you two come inside and sit with me. I’d love to hear more about this hopelessly romantic love story.”
“Oh, goodness, I can hardly wait.”
…
It had taken a good hour and a half before Fitz and Skye were able to shake off the last of the company and head towards the fourth floor. It was somewhere around the sixth person desperate to meet the legendary Dr. James Richardson and his charming wife that Fitz made a mental note to tell Coulson that next time he should pick an evil scientist that the most sadistic of the Hydra loyalists wouldn’t find worthy of such hero worship.
They could faintly hear the buzz of the crowd three floors down, but their current hallway seemed to be deserted. Fitz took the opportunity to say what had been on his mind the whole evening.
“Jemma, what the hell?”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t need your snark buzzing in our ear all evening. It’s distracting.”
Jemma sighed heavily. “I’m not being snarky Fitz. I just think you and Skye are laying it on a bit thick.”
Fitz rolled his eyes, grabbing Skye’s arm and pulling her to the side so as not to be seen in the off chance that someone might wander down their particular corridor. “Laying it on a bit thick?” Fitz asked, his voice dangerously low. “We’re undercover Simmons, we’re supposed to be laying it on a bit thick. You’re the one who said you weren’t jealous, so act like it!”
“I’m not jealous Fitz, I’m just trying to look out for you. You know I care about you. I just don’t want you to get yourself killed because you couldn’t portray a believable love story.”
Skye cut in before either Fitz or Simmons had a chance to continue. “Guys, as much as I appreciate this whole lovers’ quarrel thing you’ve got going on, we do have a mission, and it’s probably best that we get back to that.”
“Wait-”
“Fitz, Skye’s right we shouldn’t keep arguing-”
“No, Jemma, please.” Fitz cut her off, and turned to Skye. “Do you hear that?”
Her eyes widened, “Someone’s coming.”
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
“What?!”
Fitz tried to ignore Jemma prattling off in his ear about how this wasn’t exactly necessary, and honestly, can’t they think of a better way to get out of this? “Skye, you have to kiss me. It makes people uncomfortable, they won’t want to look at us too closely.”
“Fitz, there are other ways to-”
She pulled him towards her by the lapels of his jacket, pressing her lips to his in a way that was a far cry from the chaste cheek kisses and hand holding from earlier. The footsteps were getting nearer and nearer, so Skye closed her eyes as he slid his arms around her waist, and let out a moan that was positively obscene. Fitz stiffened in response, but only faltered for a second before sliding his hands lower and lower down her body. He could faintly make out the sound of footsteps moving past them, and waited until he was certain that the guard had turned the corner before pushing Skye away.
They were both breathing heavily, unable to look the other in the eye, and with identical red blotches creeping up their necks. Fitz tried to break the tension, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before speaking. “That was, well, erm…”
Skye groaned, but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You didn’t really have to grab my ass, Fitz. Simmons, you should have warned me that your boyfriend was so handsy.” She paused for a moment, waiting for a response. “Simmons, you there?”
They waited another second before the comms crackled to life again and May started to speak. “The entryway is clear. Skye, you’re on.”
She nodded, though she knew that May couldn’t see her, and continued down the hall towards the main vault where the device was located. She made it about two steps before she was stopped by a muffled gasp from behind her.
She turned slowly, muscles tightening, and prepared to use everything May had taught her for situation just like this. But then she saw Fitz, held down with a gun to his head, and she knew she couldn’t do a thing.
…
May stiffened, and though her face barely changed at all, Simmons knew something was wrong. All previous anger and frustration was forgotten as she turned back to May waiting for instructions, and hopefully, an answer.
“There was gunfire, and now comms are down.” Her voice was level, but there was just a hint of urgency behind it. If she hadn’t known the woman for three years, she might have missed it. “Get Bobbi and Hunter. We have a new mission.”
Simmons nodded, not trusting herself or her voice to speak. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. She was on autopilot, her feet carrying her through the Playground on their own accord, but her only thought was on Fitz, on the gunfire, and all the what ifs and horrible possibilities that made her blood run cold. This wasn’t happening, not to them. Not again.
She felt numb as she gathered both Bobbi and Hunter, and could barely hear their surely heartfelt condolences. No, not condolences. They weren’t dead, not yet. But that’s what it felt like when Bobbi wrapped her arms around Simmons, holding her tightly and giving all the comfort she could before following her two times ex-husband down the corridor to be given a quick debriefing from May. She waited until Bobbi had rounded the corner before leaning her back against the wall, sliding to her knees, and finally allowing herself to cry.
When they found her they told her it was too dangerous for her to come along, too personal. She knew they were right, but that didn’t stop a cool pit of anger from bubbling up within her stomach. She watched them walk briskly away, and hoped to God that they weren’t too late.
She hadn’t moved from her spot against the wall in approximately two hours. There had been no news, no people passing by, nothing. It was just Jemma Simmons and her own thoughts, and they tormented her. She kept replaying their final conversation in her head, the fight that wasn’t really a fight, but felt ten times worse. Of all the things she could have said to her best friend after twelve years, of any last words she could have given him…
It wasn’t fair.
She felt like a petulant child, but she kept repeating the words over and over again. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. They had been through enough already, had almost died more than enough to last a lifetime. They didn’t deserve this, but still, being here at SHIELD, it felt as though they had been asking for it.
She wondered if he knew how much she cared about him. For the longest time, she wasn’t even sure if she knew. But she did now, she was certain of it. They were so much more than partners, they were best friends, two halves of a whole that were so much smarter, so much better than they were apart. Somewhere along the line she had fallen in love with her best friend, and she may not ever get the chance to tell him.
She didn’t move from the spot they had left her in until her tears had dried and she heard a commotion from down the hall. Jemma Simmons was not a fast runner by any means, but in the time it took for her to get up off the ground and sprint towards the entrance of the Playground, she was certain she could have bested Steve Rogers himself.
She paused before she turned the final corner, bracing herself for whatever she might find on the other side. But before she could muster the courage to move forward, she heard the one voice she had almost convinced herself she would never hear again, the one voice she knew almost as well as she knew her own.
She turned the corner, and saw him again for the first time, battered and bloody, but so, so alive.
“Fitz?”
He looked up when she said his name, and their eyes locked, neither willing to break eye contact.
“Fitz.” She breathed his name aloud, hardly daring to believe that he was still here, standing on his own two feet, when she had believed so thoroughly that the worst had happened. It seemed silly, in hindsight, but she didn’t allow herself time to think on the absurdity of it all before she crossed the barrier between them, threw her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to every cut and bruise that dotted his face. “God, Fitz, I was so worried. May said that there was gunfire, and I thought-”
“We’re fine, Jem. A little worse for wear, but fine, I promise.” He said, burying his face in her neck, trying to hold on to as much of her as he possibly could.
She had started to cry again, but didn’t want to release her hold on Fitz to brush the tears from her eyes. “I just kept thinking that if you- I mean, if something were to happen, how the last thing we would have done is argue.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She pulled back, just enough to look him in the eyes, and spoke as earnestly as she could. “Yes it does matter. Of course it matters. I almost lost you today, and I never even want to think about that again. I love you.”
“What?”
The looks of surprise on both of their faces were nearly identical, and Simmons couldn’t help but laugh gently. “I love you, Fitz. Okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, great.” She raised an eyebrow, admittedly more amused than anything as his face started to turn that shade of red she found entirely too endearing. “I mean, I love you too. Jealous girlfriend though you are.”
She pushed him away with a half-way irritated eye roll, though her grin gave her secret away. “I was not jealous!”
