Ugh, I was supposed to post this last Wednesday, but I was busy with my school fair. Definitely not my best work, but I enjoyed writing this. Also… SQUEAL FITZSIMMONS SQUEAL. That episode was packed with things for us to think/write about and if Elizabeth does not stop favouriting tweets about Caestridge/Fitzsimmons, we may as well get ready to combust. Anyway…


Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Marvel… Yup, that's it.


He tried his very best to recall the exact words he'd used with her before he'd left for the mission. He remembered saying something along the lines of not doing anything rash like jumping out of an aeroplane; that was memory that he tucked away under lock and key.

Truth be told, he knew that it couldn't really be helped if she got herself into trouble. Such circumstances were becoming more and more common in their field of work, making it increasingly difficult to keep themselves out of siutations that put them in harm's way.

Yet, the words that escaped her lips were not at all expected nor were they ones that he particularly wanted to hear. He spotted the excited little smile on her lips just as his own gentle and tired one faded away in an instant. Whatever joy she felt was not one that he seemed to share.

"Could you say that again? I don't think I heard you correctly." He said, his voice seeming to be nothing more than a squeak of disbelief to his own ears.

"I shot a superior officer in the chest!" She repeated with even more hints of pride and joy creeping into her voice. The dumbfounded look on his face practically demanded her to roll her eyes. "Oh come on Fitz, it's not like I killed anybody. It was just the Night-Night pistol."

The last few words brought him a slight sense of relief, yet the entirety of the situation continued to leave him shellshocked and at a loss for words. There was something about her doing such a thing that left him that way. He stood there for a few moments with his mouth opening and closing, making him look like a fish.

"Where- how- who- why- what?!" The last word came out louder than he'd intended, making her slightly anxious about having to explain the events that led up to the said incident. It proved to be difficult to map out such thoughts in her head when it was finally time to explain herself.

"Well," She looked down at her hands as she twiddled her thumbs. "Me and Skye had to find a wall panel so that she could hack into the mainframe and get information about your mission, but it was in a restricted hallway. Agent Sitwell caught me and I tried to flirt with him but-"

"Wait, stop for a moment," He raised a hand and she pursed her lips together. "You actually tried to flirt with Agent Sitwell?"

"Tried is the key word in that sentence." She pointed out and gave him a stern look when she saw him trying to hold back his laughter. "I didn't have any other choice but to shoot him with the Night-Night pistol. It wasn't ideal, but we got you out alive, didn't we?"

She didn't think about the last few words before saying them and the thought of the phrase silenced them both. The thought of either of them dying wasn't an appealing one neither was it welcome. It was another reminder that it was almost impossible to live without each other.

He racked his brain for something to say to her as he listened to the buzzing and humming of their equipment around them. All he wanted was to tell her that he was extremely thankful for the extraction and that he was glad that they were both alive; but the words wouldn't leave his lips.

"It's beyond my comprehension why even the tiniest group of people couldn't be sent to get you out of there," She voiced her thoughts and he let out a small sigh. "It's not as if S.H.I.E.L.D. is short on resources, even in the most unbelievably unstable situations. Look at New York as an example. It's outrageous!"

"Jemma-"

"I know that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't exactly play by rules that aren't their own," She continued to rampage while his words remained unheard. He eyed her as a spark began to light her eyes. "But they can't just let you go out there without a contract or a waiver or… or… anything!"

"Jemma, please. I'm alright."

"You're extremely lucky that you are!" She all but yelled back and the sight amused him slightly. "What would I have done if you'd died out there?"

The tension in the room shot sky high and he felt as if something had just ignited in both of them. He didn't dare avert his eyes, too afraid that if he did, she'd melt away. Her words were both torture and pleasure, making him ready to combust; she was the spark lighting him on fire.

Like a tidal wave, it washed over him that she would be more than happy to do anything for him just as he was ready to do anything for her. It was pure and absolute euphoria overcoming him, washing him away violently onto a safe shore.

Before anything could be processed or done, he felt a pair of arms wrapped around his torso. Her hair tickled his nose lightly and a smile made its way onto his face as he breathed in the smell of rose scented shampoo. It was something new and alien, yet wholly familiar all at the same time.

"I'm so happy you're alright." She whispered with her lips right beside his ear. The words washed away anything that had been gnawing away at him. He read the subtext of her words, heard the affection that was being expressed in the language that they had claimed as their own.

"We're okay, Jemma." His whisper and the kiss he pressed to her forehead were more than reassurances; they were promises, the promises of surviving tomorrow together. He knew that they would be together in every circumstance, too intertwined and connected to even think about letting go.

He could not help but think about how she fit so perfectly in his arms. She was his refuge, his home. There would never be any Fitz without Simmons, a belief that they were more than glad to agree on; two different entities that coexisted in such a way that they wholly depended on one another.

After a while, he pressed her lips to hers, saying all the words that need not ever be voiced. She buried a hand in his curls and used the other to play with the ones at the nape of his neck. They were tearing at the seams, bursting with the passion and energy that neither could bear to hold.

He pulled away from her, eyes still shut and arms still around her. There were no regrets or turning back or letting go; both were much too fargone. He cradled her and whispered words in her ear that she was all too glad to listen to.

But the most important things were the ones that they didn't need to say.