Work Text:
June 2014
“Are you ready?” Bobbi asks. Jemma sits on the toilet seat lid, head in her hands. She shakes her head rapidly.
“No.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to be,” Bobbi tells her gently. She kneels down in front of Jemma, offering the plastic stick in her hand. She sucks in a deep breath and delivers the blow. “It’s positive.”
“Positive,” Jemma repeats, voice hardly a whisper. “Oh my God.”
She slides onto the floor, limbs going completely numb in shock. Bobbi tugs her closer, arm around her shoulders. “Is it…?”
“Will’s?” Jemma finishes, sounding a bit offended. “Of course it is.”
“But that night with Fitz…”
It comes to her in flashes. She and Will had broken up—not exactly an unheard of event for the two of them. They’d been on-again and off-again since college. Fitz had, as always, showed up at her apartment with wine and ice cream. They’d marathoned some Doctor Who, she’d cried, she’d sworn up and down that she was never, ever getting back together with Will…
And then something had possessed her and she’d looked up at Fitz from her place on his shoulder and kissed him.
Whatever unspoken thing had been going on between the two of them for as long as she’d known him—high school, to be specific—had all come pouring out that night. The next morning, when he’d been playing with her hair and obviously gearing himself up to say something, the phone had rang.
Will had been in an accident, and she’d rushed immediately to the Emergency Room, and that had been the end of it. She and Fitz never discussed that night. She and Will went back to being on-again.
That had been six weeks ago.
“Not possible,” Jemma fires back. “Fitz and I used protection. Besides, it’s just…it’s Will’s. I know it is.”
Because it can’t be Fitz’s. She can’t be pregnant by her best friend in the world, because that would ruin everything they have together.
Bobbi looks doubtful, but she nods anyway. “Alright. You would know better than anyone. Are you going to tell him tonight?”
Jemma brushes at the tears on her cheeks. She’s twenty-six; certainly not the youngest woman in the world to ever have a baby. She knows this, intellectually, but there’s also still so much she wants to do. There’s so many places she hasn’t travelled to, so many things she hasn’t done yet.
Her hand lands on her stomach. She sucks in a shaking breath and nods.
“I might as well get this over with.”
“Jemma?” Bobbi asks cautiously. “Are you okay?”
Even though this wasn’t her plan, even though she knows, as a biologist, there’s no way in hell she’s actually able to feel the baby yet, she swears she feels a flutter beneath her palm. She’ll go to Florence later. She can take a photography class at night, if she wants; she’s sure Bobbi will watch the baby.
Now that this is happening, it’s happening. She’s always been competitive, so she steels herself with squared shoulders and blinks away the remainder of her tears. She’s not just going to be a mom. She’s going to be the best damn mom this world has ever seen, no matter what happens from here.
“We’re fine,” Jemma says, her voice gaining strength. “We’re going to be just fine.”
Bobbi smiles at her, squeezing her leg. “And you always have us. Me, Hunter, Daisy, Fitz, Mack—“
Jemma flinches at the mention of Fitz’s name. He’ll be so disappointed in her, she just knows it. Dread settles in her stomach as she thinks of telling him. She’s more nervous to tell him than she is to tell Will. Jemma’s not sure what that means, and she’s not sure she really cares to find out. In the weeks since her (admittedly amazing) night with Fitz, she hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that there was something special there. Every time she’s seen him since, he’s been distant, something hiding behind his eyes that she can’t seem to puzzle out.
He’s her oldest friend, her dearest friend, the most precious thing in her life. He’s her best friend in the world, and perhaps even more than having a one night stand with him, this news—that she’s pregnant with Will’s child—is going to destroy all of it. She knows it, the same way that she knows any other law of nature. The same way she knows the laws of thermodynamics.
Bobbi stays for a few hours after that, making lunch for her and helping her plan out what she’s going to say to Will. They opt against making a cutesy spectacle—no baby booties or “best dad” t-shirts. Just the truth will do.
Her friend leaves shortly before her boyfriend arrives, and Jemma changes into a floaty sundress that she hopes makes her look ethereal and angelic. He’s always liked her in sundresses, even if she’s a bit uncomfortable in them.
He walks into the apartment and shrugs off his jacket, tossing it over her couch. As soon as his eyes fall on her, he smiles. “Wow. You look nice.”
“Thank you,” Jemma smiles. Her nervously energy has her bouncing on her bare feet. “So, Will, I actually need to talk to you about something.”
“Aw,” he groans teasingly. “I had some ideas that involved very little talking.”
Jemma can’t help but snort. “I highly doubt you’ll be in the mood for that once I tell you what I need to say.”
He frowns, lowering himself onto a nearby stool near the counter. “What’s up?”
Her heart rate picks up to a nearly inhuman pace. She forces herself to take a few deep breaths, meeting his eyes despite her fear.
“Can you promise that you won’t…freak out?”
“I can do my best,” Will shrugs. “Jemma, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
She licks her lips and decides to just rip off the band-aid. “I’m pregnant.”
His entire face shifts into an expression she’s never seen on him. He stays silent for a long moment, and Jemma can’t stand the tension anymore.
“Will?”
“I—Jemma, I cannot do this,” he says, standing up and fisting his hands though his hair. “I don’t want kids. I never have.”
Her heart clenches in her chest. She wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like. “I know this is a shock. I know we didn’t plan this—“
“You’re damn right we didn’t,” Will growls, whirling around. She backs up a step, surprised. “I just got hired as a pilot. Finally. And now you’re telling me I have to give that up?”
“I said no such thing!” Jemma exclaims indignantly. “You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“I know you,” he hisses. “I know what you’ll expect from me. I can barely handle the pressure of being your boyfriend, let alone your---the father of your kid.”
Tears burn at her eyes, a painful lump building in her throat. “So, what? You want me to do this alone?”
“If you want to take care of it,” Will says, gesturing vaguely, “I’ll pay for it. But if you want to keep it—then that’s all on you, Jemma. I’m not ready for this. I don’t want it. I just can’t understand how you could have been so careless.”
“Me?” Jemma scoffs. “It takes two to make a baby. I’m not sure if that managed to get through your thick school in middle school, but—“
“I’m done,” Will says shortly, holding his hands up. He backs away, snatching up his jacket. “Good luck, Jemma. Text me what you decide, okay? But other than that…I don’t think we should talk anymore. It’ll be too hard.”
“Too hard?” Jemma gasps, half-rage and half-hurt. “You think it’s too hard for you? You’re a coward.”
He gives her one last look and then slams her front door shut. She grabs the nearest item—coincidentally, a framed photo of them on their trip to the Maveth desert—and throws it at the door. The shattering noise is satisfying, and despite her earlier fears, she knows exactly who she wants to call.
As soon as she picks up her phone, she hits the “favorites” button and presses the first name on the list.
“Hello?” he answers on the second ring.
“Hi Fitz,” she manages to get out through her building tears. “It’s um…could you please come over?”
Despite the tension that’s settled between them in the last six weeks, she hears him stand on the other side of the line, throwing open his closet to get his shoes.
“I’ll be there in ten.”
“It’s an ice cream and Doctor Who kind of night,” she informs him, sniffling between words.
There’s a beat of silence. He adjusts the phone and sighs. “Alright. Well, uh, do you want pinot or chardonnay?”
“No wine,” she tells him softly. “I’ll fill you in when you arrive.”
She can practically feel his worry, even over the phone. “Be there as fast as I can.”
“Thank you, Fitz.”
She goes to her room, ripping off the ridiculous sundress and slipping on a pair of leggings and an over-sized t-shirt. It’s one of Fitz’s, a JPL shirt he’d gotten on a field trip in college that had never fit him right. She’d giggled at how silly he’d looked in it, and he’d tossed at her.
Fine, he’d said. You keep it, then.
And she had. The logo is long faded, but it’s one of her favorite shirts. The soft, familiar cotton has a calming effect on her unlike anything else. She grabs her best blanket, a gift from Daisy, and curls up on the couch to wait.
***
When Fitz arrives, he comes in like a hurricane, leaping over the broken glass and carrying four different grocery bags.
“You said no wine,” Fitz pants. “So I thought something else might be in order. We’ve got five kinds of tea, three ice creams, a couple of frozen pizzas cause honestly I’m bloody starving—“
Her stomach swoops, the same way it always does when he takes care of her like this. No one has ever cared for her the way that Fitz always has. She can’t imagine her life without him in it, but she may have to.
“I’m pregnant,” Jemma blurts out. She can’t hold it in a second longer. She needs to know now if he’s going to leave. She clears her throat to rid herself of the sobs that beg to be released. “I’m pregnant and Will wants nothing to do with me or the baby. He left.”
The grocery bags hit the ground with a loud thud. He stares at her for a long moment, expression blank, and before she can blink, he arrives at her side. He lands on the cushion beside her, tugging her into him and rubbing little circles on her shoulder.
“Hey now,” Fitz hums soothingly. “You’re going to be just fine, okay? And so will the baby. I promise. You’re not alone.”
She had fought so valiantly to hold off her breakdown, but the scent of his skin and the warmth of his hands comforting her break down the last of her defenses. She wails into his neck, squeezing him for dear life. He holds her back, a bit more gently than he otherwise would, and she can’t help but smile through her tears because he just wants to be careful with her, now more than ever.
He’s always been this way, and this kind of wonderful is something she’d missed out on that morning when Will had gotten in the accident.
If only he hadn’t. If only she’d called his family and stayed in bed with Fitz. If only, if only, if only.
When her cries are reduced to little hiccups, Fitz pulls back and brushes her hair away from her damp cheeks. His thumbs dry her skin and he smiles at her crookedly. “Go get your notebook.”
“What?” she asks, utterly confused.
“Oh c’mon, Jemma. Your listing notebook. Let’s get started, shall we?”
“Lists…”
“Yes,” Fitz says with a fond but exasperated roll of his eyes. That little bit of darkness remains in the blue of his irises but she pushes past the urge to ask about it. “What do we need to do now? I know we ought to find you a doctor. Don’t pregnant ladies have to take vitamins?”
He reaches onto her coffee table and grabs her laptop, opening it and entering her password with ease.
“I’ve got to get some books on all this,” he says, gesturing at her body and lingering over her abdomen. “I paid attention in sex ed, but not really to this part, if you know what I mean.”
This gets a giggle out of her, and she swats at his arm, standing to get her notebook from her room. She freezes in the doorway, watching him search for books like What To Expect When You’re Expecting, and she grins.
She can’t imagine why on earth she ever thought she would lose him because of this. If there’s one thing she’s sure of in this world, it’s that Leo Fitz is the best person alive and he loves her more than anyone else ever could.
She’s never really known what that means, despite the insistence of their other friends that the two of them are meant to be together. The smile slides right off of her face at the thought.
If they were, that’s gone now.
Her hand lands on her stomach and she rushes to her room to take a few more ragged breaths and grab her notebook before rejoining Fitz in his research.
They stay up almost all night, organizing doctors on a spreadsheet by distance and ranking and arguing over whether or not she should be reading up on parenting theories quite yet.
She falls asleep on his lap on her couch, and wakes up to him still there, sitting straight up and completely unconscious. She squeezes his leg, nuzzles him closer, and lets herself drift back off to sleep.
March 2015
“Come on, Jemma!” Fitz urges, even under the bone-crushing grip that she has on his hand. “You can do it. One more push, come on!”
“AGGGH!” Jemma screams, She collapses backward, sweaty and trembling. “Fitz, I can’t!”
She’s crying now, but she hardly notices. After hours and hours of painful, excruciating labor, she’s failed. She can’t do it.
The doctor opens his mouth and Fitz shoots him a silencing glare, moving closer to her. He takes a cloth and dabs at her clammy skin.
“Hey, you can. And you will. Because your little girl needs you to, okay? And last time I checked, Jemma Simmons is no fucking quitter.”
She turns to him in shock. “Fitz!”
“What?” he laughs. “I’m just saying, you took compiler theory just to prove to me that you could do it.”
She takes several deep breaths, adjusting her grip on his hand. He resumes his position half-behind her, supporting her weight.
“I can do this. If I could pass Vaughn’s compiler theory, I can get this baby the hell out of my vagina.”
“That’s the spirit!” Fitz shouts. “Now do it!”
Bearing down, she screws up her face and grits her teeth, giving one last, hard push. “AGGGGH!”
Weak cries fill the room and Jemma laughs in near-hysterics. “I did it. I did it.”
“You did,” Fitz beams at her. He kisses her forehead and then bumps his own against it. “I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing. Also, kind of disgusting. But mostly amazing.”
She giggles, leaning back further into the pillows as the nurse lays her baby girl on her chest. “Oh, Fitz, look. She’s so beautiful.”
Bright blue eyes blink up at them. Even though she’s still rather slimy and, if Fitz is honest, a little weird looking, he feels tears spring into his eyes.
“She’s gorgeous. Just like her mum.”
“Does Dad want a turn?” the nurse offers.
Both Jemma and Fitz freeze, exchanging an awkward look.
“Oh, no, he’s not—“
“I’m not actually—“
The nurse grimaces and apologizes, hot-footing it out of the room. The awkward tension only lasts for a moment, before the baby wraps her whole hand around Fitz’s finger.
He forgets everything else, and so does Jemma. Eleanor Margaret Simmons is in the world now, and she’s the most important thing to both of them.
June 2015
It doesn’t take long for Jemma to start having her doubts, but she keeps them to herself. Eleanor’s hair—wispy, dark curls—has an unnerving similarity to the mop of hair that Fitz had when she’d first met him at sixteen years old.
Not to mention the bright blue eyes, that neither Jemma nor Will possessed.
Fitz is a natural with Eleanor, coming over every day after work to help Jemma out and spending all of his weekends with them. He falls asleep with the baby on his chest, sleeps on her couch to help out with middle-of-the-night diaper changes and feedings, and is altogether the best father figure that a three month old baby could ever ask for.
On more than one occasion, Jemma has had to stop herself from leaning up to kiss him hello or goodbye. She blames the domestic routine, but then the urge starts cropping up all over the place, for no reason at all, and she starts to doubt if the source of it is really that simple.
And the worst part? Jemma is starting to wonder if maybe he is Eleanor’s father after all. The thought of telling him that practically paralyzes her every time it crosses her mind, and so she does the unthinkable.
She swabs the inside of his mouth while he’s sleeping and manages to yank out a few hairs just for good measure. She places them in a blue plastic bag at the back of her bedside table drawer.
She can’t do this to him. Sure, he’s helping them now. He loves Eleanor, coddles her and babbles to her and absolutely adores her. She knows he loves her, too, always looking after her and making sure she’s getting enough rest. They’re almost like a family, except that they’re not, and she can’t do this to him. She can’t ask him to give up everything for her.
So as much as it kills her, she encourages him to go on the date that Daisy sets him up on. She can’t imagine that any other women is going to be comfortable in a relationship with a man who is raising someone else’s baby with his female best friend; especially when that female best friend can’t stop staring at his lips or, when he bends down, his ass.
Jemma forgets about the blue bag at the back of the drawer. Fitz goes on a few more dates with Daisy’s set up, but when the time comes to take things to the next level with her, he backs out.
He tells Jemma it’s not because of her or Eleanor, but Jemma sees the texts on his phone.
It’s just a little weird to me that you’re always there. I would really appreciate it if you came to my work party with me, Fitz.
Sorry, I can’t. It’s my turn to do the night shifts with Ellie. Hope you have a good time.
I need more from this.
I’m really sorry, but I can’t give that to you.
You’re not that baby’s dad, and you’re not her boyfriend. Whatever you’re trying to do, it isn’t going to work…but good luck trying. Bye, Fitz.
He’d stopped responding to the girl after that, and Jemma had felt horribly guilty for prying, anyway.
August 2015
It’s Fitz who brings it up one day. They’re sitting on the floor playing Nine Men’s Morris, Ellie in her little baby swing beside them. She blows little bubbles every now and then, and every time she does it makes Fitz laugh with joy. He squeezes her chunky little feet and pretends to eat them, and the baby squeals with delight every time he does.
It’s nearly too much for Jemma to witness, especially now that she recognizes what her urges really mean.
She loves him and she probably has for a long time; at least since that night they’d spent together but probably even before that.
His mood shifts suddenly, and he turns to look at her seriously. “Look, Jemma, this might be crazy, but I need to ask you something.”
Her breath hitches and she nods in encouragement. “Go ahead.”
“Is there…is there any possible way that she’s mine?” he asks. His voice cracks on the last word and all of her cells scream at her to say yes. “She looks like me. And I just feel—I can feel it, somehow. I feel like her dad.”
Jemma shuts her eyes and slumps forward. “I’ve been thinking the same thing, Fitz. I know we used protection that night, but what if it failed? She looks nothing like Will. She has my nose and lips but those eyes…”
“She has my eyes,” Fitz breathes. She cringes, ready for the fallout. She’s prepared for the anger, for the denial of responsibility, for him storming out just like Will had. “I’d like to get a test. If you don’t mind.”
Her eyes snap open to stare at him. “You would? Because Fitz, I don’t—I wouldn’t expect anything from you.”
He gives her a look like she’s insane. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s already got me wrapped around her tiny finger, Jemma. And…that night, it…well, it meant a lot to me. I know for you it was just a fling but for me it was…it was more than that.”
She sucks in a startled breath and he holds up a hand.
“We don’t have to make this a thing between us, okay? If she is mine…well, then everything stays the same, okay? Exactly like we’ve been doing.”
She swallows hard and looks away. Part of her wants to demand that they do make this a thing between them, but she understands that this isn’t about her. It’s about Eleanor.
“Okay. Um, yes. Let’s do the test.”
The smile he gives her makes her disappointment a little less bitter.
September 2015
They sit side-by-side in the doctor’s office, his knee bouncing anxiously and Ellie on his lap. Jemma reaches over and puts her hand on his leg to stop his movement.
“Sorry,” he grimaces. “I just…Jemma, no matter what this test says, I’m still here for both of you. You know that, right?”
She smiles at him, utterly relieved to hear it out loud even though she’d of course known it to be true.
“I know, Fitz. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
She scoffs, flipping Ellie around so he can look at her. “Please. The Simmons Girls? Neither of you need me.”
“We do,” Jemma says seriously. “We both do. We…we both love you. Very much.”
His expression softens. “You know I love you both, right?”
She nods decisively, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. He flushes, giving her a questioning look as she pulls away. She opens her mouth to speak, and the doctor enters.
“Alright, you two,” he greets. “I have your results. And you’re sure you want to know?”
They nod in tandem, staring at him with eager anticipation.
“Leo is, in fact, Eleanor’s father,” the doctor tells them. Fitz blinks, mouth dropping open, and Jemma can’t hold back the wide smile blooming on her features. He cradles Ellie gently, eyes bright with happy tears.
“Hear that, Ellie? I’m actually your dad.”
Dr. Campbell smiles at them, shaking his head wryly. “Ya know, I just…had a feeling that day in the delivery room.”
Fitz and Jemma exchange a look and quickly avert their eyes to the ground. Dr. Campbell claps his hands in the awkward silence.
“Alright, you two. There’s not really much else for us to discuss here. So you’re free to go whenever you’re ready.”
The door shuts behind him and Jemma suddenly feels the stifling weight of what this all means. She gave birth to her best friend’s baby, the man who’s been playing daddy to her kid for the last six months.
“Fitz, I am so sorry,” she finally manages to get out. He looks up from staring at Ellie in wonder.
“What?”
“I was so sure she was Will’s,” Jemma croaks. She stands up out of the little chair she’d been seated on. “I was so scared that our friendship would be over if she was yours.”
He frowns at her, something flashing in his eyes. “What, you thought I would just leave you on your own? Do you really think I would ever do that to you? To my kid?”
She flounders just long enough for him to get the wrong idea.
“Oh, right,” Fitz says bitterly. “Because to you I’m just the teenage kid who moved to town after his dad walked out.”
“Fitz, that is not what I meant!” Jemma says desperately, reaching for any part of him that’s not wrapped around Ellie. “You have been the most amazing father to Eleanor. I meant it when I said I don’t know what either of us would do without you.”
“I exceeded your very low expectations,” he grumbles angrily. “Great.”
“No, Fitz!” Jemma denies firmly. “You’re not understanding what I’m trying to say.”
“Then do better at it!” he yelps. She glares at him, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m doing my best!” she snaps. She shuts her eyes, taking a calming breath and forcing herself to speak at a normal volume. Ellie may not understand what they’re saying, but she can certainly sense the tension. Jemma can see it in her increasingly agitated movements on Fitz’s lap.
“What if Will had stayed?” Jemma asks. His entire body stiffens and she swallows hard, continuing on. “I could have—I was going to let someone else raise our child, Fitz. All because I was so afraid of what it would mean for our friendship. All because I was trying to ignore what happened between us that night.”
Fitz flinches, finally placing Ellie in her stroller and turning to face her fully. They’re in the same room they were in when Jemma had her first ultrasound. She had cried, finally accepting the reality of pregnancy. Fitz had teared up, too, holding her hand and asking the doctor absurd questions about the ultrasound.
This is the room where it all started, and now it’s the room where everything is either going to fall apart or finally, actually come together.
“I get it, Jemma. It meant more to be than it did to you. But that night made her,” he says heatedly, keeping his voice low and gesturing at Ellie. “And I never would have turned my back on you, or on her.”
“I know you wouldn’t!” she insists. “Fitz, I knew that. I knew you would never do what Will did. I’m just so sorry. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
Fitz gulps and stares into her glistening eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s not like I missed anything. I was here.”
“You were,” Jemma agrees, stepping forward to take his hand.
A muscle in his jaw twitches at the contact. “At the doctors appointments, in the delivery room, in the middle of the night. I’ve been beside you the whole damn time.”
Jemma moves even closer, nodding slowly. “You have been.”
“And like I said, nothing has to change,” he tells her softly, his eyes drifting away from her eyes and toward her lips. She can feel his warmth through the cotton of his t-shirt.
“Maybe it does.”
“What?” he gasps, eyes snapping back to her. She shuts her eyes and huffs in frustration.
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just…we never talked about that night. We never discussed what it meant.”
He looks at her incredulously. “There’s nothing to discuss, Jemma.”
He moves to pull away from her and she tugs on him insistently, forcing him to remain facing her. “Maybe there is.”
He gapes at her. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know when I started feeling it. It may have been before that night. But I know I felt it then, and everything got so messed up after Will’s accident. We never talked about it because I ran right back to him but…deep down I knew it wasn’t what I wanted.”
Fitz grits his teeth. “You told him first. You wanted Ellie to be his.”
“No!” Jemma corrects as quickly as she can. “That’s not true, Fitz. Will was my boyfriend. He wasn’t the greatest one, but…it made sense. We used protection.”
Fitz snorts. “That obviously didn’t work for us, did it?”
She can’t help but laugh. “No, it did not. It’s not that I wanted Will to be the father, Fitz. It just made sense, at the time. I knew intellectually that the baby could have been yours but I couldn’t admit that to myself because admitting it would have meant having to deal with that night, and I was with Will, and I was so focused on helping him that I didn’t feel like I was allowed to deal with those feelings I had for you.”
Fitz clears his throat, standing his ground despite her desperate hold on his hand. “If you hadn’t gotten the call from the hospital that morning, what would you have done?”
She smiles wistfully and a little sadly. “I woke up first, you know. I was watching you sleep, and thinking about that night we accidentally passed out on your roof during the meteor shower, senior year of high school. Remember that?”
He nods, misty-eyed, and she continues.
“I was thinking about how much you’ve grown up since then. It’s been ten years, Fitz. I can’t believe that. I was thinking about how we’ve both grown so much and that maybe our friends weren’t so crazy when they kept insisting we were meant to be together. I tried this trick of Bobbi’s. She always says you should be with the person that you would want standing next to you when all of your dreams come true, and I imagined myself doing all of these things—winning awards, making breakthroughs in the lab, having kids—and all I could picture was you.”
He inhales sharply and she moves closer. He doesn’t stiffen or move away, which she takes as a good sign.
“During the pregnancy, it just kept gnawing at me. I knew I’d messed up that morning. I was going to make you breakfast and tea and talk to you about where we should go from there. I wanted to suggest having dinner, just the two of us. Someplace nice.”
He grins crookedly. “Really?”
She nods. “Really. And that’s what I’m sorry for, Fitz. I’m sorry that it took me so ridiculously long to catch up. I was too scared to say something. If you think this is a bad idea, if you want nothing to do with me in that way, I can accept that and we’ll keep on being Ellie’s family, together.”
He scans her face earnestly, searching for something in her expression. She’s not sure what it is he’s trying to find.
“But I love you, Fitz. I need to say it, at least this one time, before—“
He cuts her off in a searing kiss. She stumbles backward into the counter of the exam room, clutching at him desperately and returning his kiss fervently.
When he finally pulls away, he’s panting and so is she.
“Do you think we could get Bobbi to babysit on Friday night?” Fitz asks. Jemma tilts her head to the side, confused. “Ya know, since we have plans.”
“We do?”
“Of course we do,” he grins, tucking her hair behind one ear. “I’m taking you to dinner. Just the two of us. Someplace nice.”
Torn between laughing and crying, she opts for neither. Instead, she peppers kisses all over his face and revels in the way that he laughs deep in his chest at her affections.
She’s sure they still have a lot of talking to do. There’s still a lot of planning from here but she is confidently optimistic that this family they’ve built will only get better from here.
This is the room where it started. This is the room where it started again.