Chapter Text
Fitz woke up in a pool of his own sweat and immediately cursed.
"Shit," he muttered burying his face in his pillow and throwing off the single sheet he'd been sleeping under. He glanced at his alarm clock. 4:28am. Great. With a sigh as deep as the ocean, he rolled out of bed and padded over to the window.
"Bloody aircon," he grumbled, smacking it on the side and twisting its dials to no effect. He wiped a hand across his forehead to catch the sweat that was already threatening to drip into his eyes.
With a sigh, he padded over to his bathroom, stripping off his boxers in the hall as he went. He couldn't very well start thunking on the thing in the middle of the night without his downstairs neighbour calling the police on him, so for now he'd have to make due with a very cold shower.
He sighed again as he stood at the toilet emptying his bladder. He stared straight ahead at his latest schematic, pinned to the wall in all of the places he was most likely to stare at it. Squinting, he tilted his head and mentally followed the routes of all of the components, looking for inefficiencies. Not finding any, he flushed, shook himself off, and stepped into the bath. There was a laminated version posted on the tile below his shower head, as well.
An unbidden shriek escaped him as the cold water connected with sensitive body parts, but a moment later he was reveling in the welcoming coolness. Leaning one hand against the wall, he bowed his head to let the water wash over him, cleaning off the sweat and regulating his body temperature. It was upwards of 30 degrees outside and the sun hadn't even risen yet. If he didn't manage to fix his AC, and fix it quickly, he foresaw a lot of time spent just like this.
Pushing off from the wall, he reached for the shampoo and lathered up his curls. He closed his eyes to keep the suds out as he rinsed it out and then grabbed the soap.
Once he was done with the basics of cleanliness, he looked at his razor for a moment before deciding he didn't feel like shaving today. It was the weekend, after all, so it didn't really matter if he was a bit scruffy.
He turned his back to the shower head and enjoyed the pounding of the water on his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply and took himself in hand. With a gentle squeeze, he felt himself hardening and with a few swift strokes he was more than half mast. He pressed his left hand against the wall and leaned over once more, this time with the water moving over his shoulders and back before sliding off his ass. He licked his lips slowly and then bit the lower one as his hand gripped his cock firmly and his hips pistoned it back and forth.
His movements sped up as he started to moan, and then his balls tightened up and he shot his load all over the tile. "Fuck me," he cursed quietly as his hand slowed down and the last salvo oozed out of his dick. Turning around, he rinsed off and gave himself a final pat.
Reaching out, he turned off the water and opened the curtain. He wrapped himself in a towel and wiped a hand across his mirror to clear the steam. Then, toothbrush in hand, he continued his morning routine.
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Jemma woke up at the first strains of music coming out of her alarm clock. With a contented sigh and a languid stretch, she sat up and pushed off her duvet. It was Saturday, and she was going to enjoy being lazy from 8am to 10am before she got to work on reorganizing her bookshelves. She currently had them set up alphabetically by author, but really they ought to be arranged by subject matter first. She hummed to herself as she took off her pajamas and folded them neatly under her pillow. Weekends were so lovely. They gave you all sorts of time to catch up on little projects around the house.
Grabbing her robe, she wrapped it around herself and danced over to her bathroom to the tune of A Little Less Conversation still playing from her bedside.
She grabbed a hair clip from the top right hand drawer and pulled her hair back from her face. Then, she grabbed her toothbrush for her first brush of the day. Nothing started her day quite as well as a minty-fresh mouth.
With that achieved, she reached into the shower to turn on the water and let it find its temperature, then she sat down on the toilet to relieve her bladder. Reaching over to her counter, she grabbed the journal article she was currently editing for publication and went through another paragraph, adding notes in the margins and underlining sections she wanted to rewrite. With that done, she stood up, wiped herself off, and flushed before opening the shower curtain and stepping inside.
She gasped at the too-hot water on her skin, then sighed as she adjusted to it. Rolling her head gently from side to side under the water's flow, she brought her hands up to either side of her neck and massaged the lingering stiffness of sleep out of her body.
Looking over at her razor, she went through her mental list of tasks for the day. Aside from a quick trip to the grocery store, she'd be inside her air conditioned apartment working on household projects all day. She decided to give it a pass and reached for the shampoo instead. Random strangers at the supermarket were not going to care if her legs were prickly.
She took her time lathering her hair, gathering it up in masses and scrunching her fingers along her scalp. Closing her eyes, she smiled and bit her lower lip. She loved to have her hair played with, and if no one else would do it then she'd just have to do it herself. Leaning her head far back under the warm spray, she rinsed her hair and enjoyed the feeling of the silky waterfall as it slid across her shoulders and her back. She stood there longer than was strictly speaking necessary, reveling in the way the water moved across her skin: over her face, down her throat and over her breasts before dripping off of her nipples or sliding through her cleavage before continuing down.
Her hands were just moving from her hair down her chest when she heard her phone ringing insistently in the next room.
Sighing, she turned off the water and quickly squeezed some of the water out of her hair. Stepping out of the shower, she put on her robe and grabbed a towel for her hair before hurrying over to pick up her landline.
"Hello?" she asked, trying not to sound too aggravated but honestly who would be buzzing her apartment at 8:15am on a Saturday?
"It's Fitz," came the familiar voice from the other end of the intercom. "Can I come up?"