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Jemma was pretty sure this was not how a Valentine’s Day date was supposed to go. She was pretty sure that the guy wasn’t supposed to be ten minutes late and completely unapologetic about the fact. She was also sure that he wasn’t supposed to flirt with the waitress in a way that said “I’m being so subtle about this” when in reality he pretty much had a “cheater cheater pumpkin eater” sign flashing above his head. And she was pretty damn sure that she wasn’t meant to be dropped outside her dorm at the Academy and made to trudge through the snow and up the steps alone. He didn’t even wait for her to get inside before he drove off. The absolute nerve of some people.
It was so silly of her to cry about the whole ordeal, the makeup she had been very proud of running down her cheeks and clumping like black mascara glue at the corners of her eyes. Yet, she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help feeling absolutely miserable as she walked, cute high heels in her hand, down the dormitory hallway, the weirdly short carpet rough under her feet.
Jemma threw open the door to her dorm room, chucked her shoes roughly into their appropriate place, and collapsed like a Disney princess at the foot of her bed. She had thought Troy seemed nice. He had a very symmetrical face and very broad shoulders and he had called her beautiful when he had first met her. But it seemed she had been wrong… and that Fitz had been right.
Wiping the tears, as well as the mascara gloop, from her eyes, she rested her chin on her folded arms. She had thrown off Fitz’s worries as just him being his usual oddly pessimistic when it came to dating self.
“He’s an ass, Simmons,” he had said, following her as she moved around the lab. “His hair is ninety percent hair gel and he wears bloody boat shoes. We’re nowhere near any bloody boats.”
And she had replied with a very stern, “Ugh Fitz! Drop it! It’s just a Valentine’s date. Besides, he seems nice. There’s no need to go tearing apart a person you haven’t even talked to.”
He tended to do that with her dates, tear them apart before even really meeting them. Not in a mean way the majority of the time, just in a way that made it feel like there was something more to him voicing his worries. However, Jemma had never really taken the time to consider what that feeling might be.
Now, kneeling in her little black dress with her once nicely curled hair a messy mane about her face, she actually stopped to consider the thought. What exactly was that extra feeling behind Fitz’s concern? Was it him being overly protective? She shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. Fitz was protective of her, but never in a way where he threatened her independence. It was more in a sweet, I’ve got your back and will always be there sort of way. He voiced his concerns, sometimes loudly, but he never made it be his way or the highway. No, Fitz was a safe place to land, not a prison of a friend.
So what was that feeling?
Jemma moved so that her back was against her bed, her legs crossed and the edge of her fingernail in her mouth. If it wasn’t overprotectiveness, then what was that look behind his eyes? It was a look she only saw a few times before. It was like the blue of his eyes got deeper, as if a pit had been uncovered behind them. A pit he quickly covered back up the moment he caught her looking at him. Oddly enough, each time she had seen it it had been before a first date. It rarely appeared when she talked about the guy, or before second or third nights out. Fitz was always good about listening to her talk about those. He would go quiet, but that look wouldn’t deepen his eyes.
The thought that struck her now however, was the very similar expression he made much more often. It wasn’t as sad of a look, but there was a similar depth to it. He always blushed when she caught him, like she had spotted him doing something embarrassing. But he would just be looking at her. It happened while they were studying, after she had gone on tangents about monkeys and cuttlefish and spacetime and stars. It happened while they watched movies, made cookies, played Scrabble. When he made her laugh. It was as though he couldn’t believe he had actually triggered that response from her. His eyes would shimmer sweetly and his cheeks would go the most lovely shade of pink, contrasting nicely with his adorably pasty skin. There would be this little upturn tick to the corner of his lips and there would be that deepness to his gaze that he had when she talked about a date only… only it wasn’t like it opened to a pit… it was something warmer. It was as though his happiness was showing all the shades of blue his eyes possessed all at once. Jemma couldn’t think of a look she loved more on anyone’s face. A look of pure…
She vaulted off the floor and slapped her palm against her mouth.
It couldn’t be? Could it? Did Fitz… did Fitz like her? Like… like like her?
Suddenly Jemma was carving a canyon into her dorm room floor, pacing back and forth so hard her toes buzzed with each impact.
Fitz liked her. He had a crush on her. A full blown, heart eyed crush on her. And she had been too blind to even notice! Too blind to see that that feeling she had felt from him, that pit like look in his eyes, was jealousy. A jealousy that he would never admit to. One that he also wouldn’t harp on afterward. Just this quick spark of desire he let himself feel before shoving down his crush once more. Only now could Jemma see it.
She stopped dead.
And what was she feeling now that she figured it all out?
How simple the answer to that question was. It couldn’t even be a eureka moment. Instead it was such a simple realization that Jemma burst out laughing. She liked him back. Of course she liked him back! He was Fitz. Her Fitz. The Fitz that she couldn’t imagine her life without!
With more spontaneity than she had ever shown in her life, Jemma grabbed her trainers from their shelf and slipped them on, not caring a wink that they didn’t exactly go with her dress or tights. She also didn’t care that her hair was still a mess or that her makeup was smeared all over her face. She simply had to get to Fitz, no matter what she looked like. Purse over her shoulder, Jemma threw open the door to her dorm once more and powered over the threshold… and right into something, someone , very solid.
“Oh! I’m so sorry! I was just… Fitz?”
Sure enough, there he was. Standing in front of her in his favorite pair of worn jeans, black trainers, and his trusty study hoody. His hair was slightly crisp looking, like he had walked out in the cold with wet hair. He did smell fantastic, something soapy and clean.
“Hey, Simmons. Uh, no worries. I was just going to drop this off in your room.” He lifted up a card, the other gift tucked under his arm. Somehow the last thing Jemma noticed was the thing he was carrying.
“Is that a teddy bear?” she asked, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He had that look she loved on his face, a blush obvious even in the fluorescent lighting.
He cleared his throat, his feet fidgeting. “Oh, err, yeah. It’s the one I saw at the mall when we were there the other day. Remember, the one with the--”
“Goggles,” she finished.
“Yeah. And the labcoat. I thought I’d give it to you for, you know, Valentine’s Day or, ehem, whatever.” He tugged at his ear and swallowed. “I was just going to leave it for you as a surprise. Didn’t expect you’d be home so early. Wait, why are you home so early?” It was then he noticed her face and the now dry trail of makeup coating her cheeks. He dropped the bear and the card, grabbing her face in his hands as if he were checking her for nonexistent wounds. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She smiled, leaning into his palm. “Yeah. I’m okay. Turns out boat shoes boy was a bastard.”
He wrapped her in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Jemma.”
“It’s alright. I’ve found someone better than some jerk with too much product in his hair.”
He pulled away from her, his brows close together.
“Yeah,” she continued, “he’s smart and sweet and handsome. The kind of guy who makes you laugh just when you feel like crying, who says he won’t share his fries but then pretends he doesn’t notice when you swipe them off his plate.” She glanced nervously at their shoes, less than an inch apart. “The kind of guy who brings you the teddy bear you’d thought he must have forgotten about just when you needed comfort the most.”
“Wha--” The quizzical look on his face slowly morphed into shock. “Wait… are you talking about… are you talking about me?”
Now holding his face in her hands, Jemma nodded, unable to help herself from smiling.
“Of course I’m talking about you. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it, but… but it’s always been you.”
He kissed her hand, his fingers lightly brushing across her wrists. “And it’s always been you.”
Everything they could say aloud being said, they answered the rest with a kiss, the sweetest kiss Jemma had ever had and one she was excited for the opportunity to repeat as many times as forever could hold.