Jemma Winchester One Shots

Happy Birthday

Hello all

Y'all I can't believe I talked myself into volunteering for summer camp again I'm so tired.

This chapter is Jemma's 18th birthday so it takes place in the future and it's very sweet

Word count: 1980

Warning: none

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September 8, 2019
6:03 am

"JEMMA! JEMMA, WAKE UP!"

My eyes shoot open in a panic and I roll straight over the edge of my bed onto the floor.

Dad stands at the foot of my bed, laughing his ass off.

"Dad," I whine. "That's not funny."

"I'm—I'm sorry, Sunshine," he says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "I didn't mean to make you fall out of bed."

I stand, rubbing my knee from where I slammed it on the ground. "You'd better gotten me something good to make up for that."

"Oh, I did. Happy birthday, Jemma."

"Thanks, Dad." I wrap my arms around his neck.

"I can't believe my baby is turning eighteen!" he fake-cries. "You're growing up too fast."

I roll my eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"Alright, get dressed."

"Why?"

"We need to go grocery shopping."

"Can't we do that tomorrow? It's my birthday."

"Nope. Let's go."

I huff. "Fine."

~

"Dad, just pick one. We've been here for an hour."

We've been standing in the cereal aisle for ten minutes. Dad can't decide between Lucky Charms or Cheerios.

"It's a tough decision, Jemma," he says defensively.

"Who cares? It'll be gone in a week anyway."

He sighs. "Lucky Charms it is."

"Thank you. Can we go home now?"

"Yes. Oh—wait. We have to find some healthy cereal for your uncle."

"Dad, are you kidding me? It's my eighteenth birthday. I should be out celebrating, not standing in the cereal aisle with my indecisive father at eight in the morning."

"Okay, I'll pretend I'm not offended."

I groan. "Dad, please. I only turn eighteen once. The grocery store will be here tomorrow."

He sighs and rubs his forehead. "You're right, Sunshine. Let's get out of here."

"Thank you."

We're on the road no longer than three minutes when I realize we're going in the opposite direction of the Bunker.

"Dad, where are we going?"

Dad hesitates. "The mall."

"What? Why are we going to the mall?"

"I need... things."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, that's real specific. What kind of things?"

"Um... clothes."