Quick Note: Who's excited for tonight's episode?! Here's a little sad/happy oneshot that I'm predicting could happen in the season finale or the episode before.
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"Erm, Fitz, can we talk?" Jemma mumbled after debriefing. This next mission would be the end, either for Hydra or for S.H.I.E.L.D., and people would be dying. Not even the scientists would be safe, and Jemma couldn't bear to leave with unfinished business.
"We don't have to, Jemma," Fitz protested weakly. "The team needs us soon."
Jemma took a deep, shaky breath. "You know just as well as I do the danger of the situation, Fitz, and we are not going to the end without a confrontation about... us."
Fitz glanced around the cargo hold at the nervous agents, all too preoccupied to notice the tension. "Okay, upstairs."
Fitz led the way up the spiral staircase and across the lounge area to his old bunk. No one else was on this level of the Bus, and the silence was anything but comfortable.
When Jemma squeezed into the bunk behind him, she was instantly reminded of all of the times they had almost crossed the line between friendship and romance. They had never been brave enough to take the leap. Everything always came too late for them. Fitz's confession mere moments before he nearly died, and now it was Jemma's turn. With a deep inhalation, she started.
"We are most likely going to die within the next twelve hours, so I'm not going to hold back on anything." Fitz, who had closed the door as she began talking, nodded with wide eyes.
"I've spent a lot of time thinking this over," continued Jemma. "And that did me absolutely no good. It was insanity, thinking the same thoughts over and over and frustratingly coming to the same conclusion. Then everything with Trip happened, and we were starting to work as a team again, but there was a shift this time. Differences in the things I'd notice about you." At this point, Jemma swallowed roughly, then flickered her eyes to his lips and back.
Fitz was standing stiffly by the door, looking anxious, but sad at the same time. He would've tried to say something, but his throat was suffering from severe drought.
"I've just fully comprehended the fragility of life, and I'm not willing to go without a resolution. What I'm trying to say, is that, I love you, too. I'm sorry it's taken this long."
Fitz remained paralyzed, eyes bulging, and he couldn't stop staring. He wanted to be replying, but he didn't have the words at this juncture.
"Leo," Jemma whispered, insecure and on the verge of tears.
And with that he broke free of the paralysis, surging forward with a sudden emotional intensity. Jemma stumbled back slightly until the backs of her knees were pressed against the bed, and Fitz stayed inches in front of her.
Then his boldness disappeared with a shattering reminder of his incompetence, and he was left mumbling apologies and shaking slightly.
"Fitz," Jemma demanded, and his head snapped back up, silenced. "You did hear the part when I said I love you, right?" Jemma asked with a half smile.
"Could you say it once more, just to be sure?" Fitz whispered back, eyes focusing anywhere other than her face.
Jemma lifted a hand to his face and forced his head up, their lips nearly touching now.
"I love you," she repeated certainly, and Fitz stilled. The phrase was barely finished as it drawled into their first kiss. It was clumsy, and ridiculously dry from the nerves, but it was one hundred percent Fitzsimmons, finally.
As Fitz leaned into Jemma, her weak knees faltered and they were falling onto the bunk. Fitz moved his good hand to catch himself before he was crushing her, and cradled her head with the other one, all too concerned with her comfort. However, it was difficult for Fitz to balance on one arm, and he began to give out. Jemma noticed and rolled them over gently, insuring that his arm wasn't crumpled. Fitz's apologies were muffled by Jemma's reassuring kisses, and as the minutes went by he saw the confidence grow in him.
Too bad this was all happening too late. They tried not to let that thought disrupt their comfort in each other. When Simmons broke away, the lingering feeling was bittersweet. She tried expressing the unfairness of the situation, and she sounded hopeless.
"There. Now we have something to lose."
Fitz adjusted to better gaze into her eyes, and, with a half smile, suggested an alternative viewpoint.
"Or something to fight for."