#we spent a small fortune on our new mattress and pillows for the apartment

[chaos-and-cookies]

Turns out u CAN in fact take a nap w.o feeling like u got hit by a truck waking up

U just need a new pricy mattress and even pricier pillows, but its possible!

[the-witty-pen-name]

Fell in Love in Scotland Pt. 2

Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Warnings: ptsd/trauma related to war; mentions of nightmares; angst; cursing; pining; slow burn; 18+ in later parts (maybe? not sure yet)

Summary: After finding about the new Captain America, the reader goes to Louisiana to visit Sam.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: So I know this isn’t on my list of things I *should* be working on, but I had this idea today and I had to get it down! This is only going to be 2-3 parts.  (Edit: 3 parts!) This is my first time writing for Sam!

I’m taking a small break from working on my other works in progress to focus on getting out as much Sam content as a can before Sam’s (and my) bday on the 14th! Not sure how much I’ll be able to write but that is my hope!

My biggest flex at the moment is sharing a bday with Sam.

This references Civil War, Endgame and Infinity War events in flashbacks but you know, canon is a thing I like to just maneuver around so I’m sorry if there are many major inaccuracies!

This is unedited and please let me know if I missed anything that should be included as a warning.

Taglist is in my bio

The safe house in Scotland was small. A little cottage hidden away in the countryside. Absolutely beautiful, if not for the looming reminders of why you were there in the first place.

You didn’t handle laying low well. You didn’t like not doing anything. Your resolve for handling your thoughts, your problems had always been to just push them aside. Focus your energy on anything but what would pull you down. You couldn’t allow yourself to just exist. Time stopped and there was no fight to be fought, and you hated it.

Fortunately, you were with people who understood. Sam and Steve especially. It didn’t take long for Sam to work his way in. He understood you, and he related to you. Neither one of you really needed to acknowledge it. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you which made it all feel so seamless.

You were restless, and nights were always the worst. You’d spend several hours tossing in turning on your mattress, unable to get comfortable. You’d bring your pillow and sheet with you onto the floor of your room, and if you were lucky enough to fall asleep, you’d wake up after only a few hours. Sometimes you’d remember the nightmares vividly, other times it was just the feelings that lingered.

Most nights, you’d wait it out in your room watching the clock until it was early enough to “get out of bed.” So, you’d wait until the red numbers on the screen turned to 4am and then you’d sneak your way downstairs to the kitchen or the living room, so you didn’t need to face the idea of sleep.

After a few weeks, Sam caught on to your routine. He would join you in the mornings, help you make coffee and talk about nothing. Just helping you keep your mind off the things that bothered you. He looked as tired as you, and you would insist on him getting more sleep. But Sam never made you go through any of the hard days on your own.

“You get used to it,” he’d say, understanding what you were going through better than anybody.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit, curled up in a ball on the sofa, the warm mug of coffee Sam made cradled tightly in your hands. The curtains are pulled open, and you stare out the window to your right, watching the sun slowly coming up.

“You should try sleeping in your bed again,” he suggests. You’d recently promoted yourself from sleeping on the floor to the couch. Baby steps. You nod, knowing he’s right.

You get a rental car the next morning and you drive to the address Sam texted you. You’re greeted immediately by two rowdy young boys, asking you if you’re an Avenger like their Uncle Sam. He’s literally Uncle Sam. How could he think he didn’t deserve the shield? Well, you know why. But the coincidence is too funny not to bring up to him once all of this is resolved.

Each of them grabbed you by an arm and drag you to the backyard. You chuckle, following their lead as they ask you a million questions. They call out to Sam when he is in view and he smiles when he sees you. Your heart flips.

“They bothering you?” he asks and you shake your head.

“No, they’re great,” you beam watching them run off.

“You look good,” he compliments you, and you feel like jelly. “You’re sleeping?” Oh.

“Yeah, I mean, for the most part,” you reply, “So do you.” You can’t miss the smile on his face. “So, uh, have you heard from Bucky?”

“I text him all the time, trying to check in, but no nothing. You?”

You shake your head. “I stopped trying,” you admit, “but I can’t blame him. He really doesn’t know me.”

“He’ll come around,” he reasons, trying to be optimistic. “So, I want to show you the boat?”

“You have a boat?” you chuckle, and he grins, nodding like a little kid.

“35-foot yacht,” he teases.

“Of course,” you smile.

It was only just noon when you both arrived at the docks. The air felt crisper, and the sun felt phenomenal on your shoulders. It wasn’t until you were outside in weather like this that you realized how often you opted to stay hidden away in your apartment. The atmosphere just felt more alive, and the air in your lungs felt almost cleansing.

You sat across from Sam on the bow of the boat, your legs dangling over the side. You were sitting close enough to him that your thighs touched, and you were trying your hardest to ignore the feeling. You just felt warm, and you felt more relaxed than you had been since you’d last seen him.

“I just need to ask,” Sam asks, cutting through both of your laughter. You really had spent the day so far just reminiscing, talking about nothing really. “Did you and Cap- were you guys…?”

“Oh god no,” you choke quickly, you stifle another laugh, “Steve was just a really great friend. No nothing like that. I would go to the end of the earth and back for Steve… but no, I didn’t have feelings for him that way.”

“I had thought maybe at one point something was going on there,” he shrugs. Is he serious?

“Never,” you reiterate.  

Sleeping in a bed became easier, but the nightmares were something that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Many times, it would be late in the night and you’d be gently shaken awake. Sam would be kneeling next to your bed, trying to wake you up.

“Please stay,” you’d ask, eyes glossed over and your skin stained with tears. He could never say no. You’d scoot over and he’d climb in and settle next to you. It wasn’t even anything romantic. You didn’t cuddle or invade his space. You just needed to feel him next to you, and you’d be able to sleep. The cycle continued for a long while until you were able to sleep through the night without the haunting dreams.

But you missed waking up with him there.

“You need to tell him,” Steve would insist, and you’d shut down the idea every single time.

“No, I can’t,” you’d insist. The only person who knew how you felt was Steve. You hadn’t even told him; he just knew you too well.

“You’re making yourself miserable,” he’d elaborate, “you deserve a little happiness- Sam deserves happiness. He wants you too.”

“Happiness? With me?” you snort, “Steve, think about me, my past- everything I carry around with me. You know as well as I do, I can’t infect him with that when he has his own issues. We’re all too broken- he deserves better.”

“You don’t to be the one to decide that for him,” he counters. “What Sam deserves is the truth.”

“I know, I know!” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself and you can’t look at Steve. “Telling him how I feel complicates things to much. I can’t risk it.”

“Even if he feels the same way?”

“Especially if he feels the same way.”

You rest back on your palms, close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the direction of the sun. Your mind wanders to Steve, and how much you miss him. You were oftentimes too thick headed to take any of his advice but it was something you hadn’t realized you needed.

You decide to just throw out all your apprehension. And just take the advice from Steve you should’ve taken years ago. The timing is perfect. The universe is screaming at you to just tell him.

“I gave up the shield because I didn’t think anyone could follow Steve,” he admits, “I didn’t think I could fill the role- no one can, or maybe no one should.”

“You’re the only person who can, Sam,” you say, looking back over to him.

“When I gave it up, I didn’t think it would be given to someone else. I donated it- to keep it with the rest of what we have left of him. God- if I had known…”

“I watched on television when you donated it, Sam,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Symbols are nothing without the men and women that give them meaning… I wish you saw yourself the way Steve did- the way I do…”

“That’s not fair…”

“You said we need new heroes for the times we’re in. Sam- the world needs a new Captain America. And you know as well as I do, that man on TV they pushed out there isn’t it.”

“It’s not me, either,” he says, looking down at the water, the reflection of the two of you rippled and distorted.

“I wish you could see how much that isn’t true,” you admit, “I also- I also wish I was more like you… You’re so good at talking to me… people like us and Steve. You show people their value and their worth, and you’re just so fiercely loyal it’s almost annoying. And I suck at that, I’m a terrible communicator, and I can’t vocalize how much you’re worth, and how much you deserve the shield. Feelings are just too overwhelming and I can’t focus them into anything coherent. And you right now need what you give others just so freely, and you’re stuck with me… I know I’m not Steve, and I as much as I try to convince you the decision is yours, but you need to know that you are the only person who can be our new Captain… Steve wasn’t wrong about you, and I just… I’m in your corner.”

“(Y/N) …”

It was safe in Scotland. Quiet, secluded. Time wasn’t looming over you. There was nothing there that was any imminent threat except your own demons that you carried with you. You had a lot of regrets, past mistakes that haunted you whenever you slowed down. It’s why when you left the air force, you joined SHIELD. You were like Steve, kindred spirits plagued by the after effects of war and both of you resolved to fighting rather than be left to your own devises.

Not like Sam. Sam put his focus into helping others. Selfless, and understanding, he was always there. He was thoughtful with what he chose to fight for, which is something you greatly admired. He was morals and loyalty, and everything that made a great man. He was a friend first, and a fighter second.

Which is such a rare quality that you wished you could tell him you noticed.

Steve got very into crossword puzzles. He found a box up in the attic tucked away of old books from whoever used to live here. He’d sit on the armchair in the living room, pencil in hand and try his best to fill in what he knew. He ended up heavily relying on you and Sam to fill in the references he didn’t know.

You and Sam would be on the couch, you tucked into his side, watching television or sometimes you’d both read, old magazines or anything you could find for entertainment. One night you both sat on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table with an incomplete deck of cards playing Double Solitaire, and Steve would occasionally vocalize a clue he was stuck on.

“Drummer of Duran Duran. Blank Taylor. Five letters,” Steve said, not looking up from the flimsy book.

“Roger Taylor,” Sam answered aimlessly, tapping the card in his hand to his chin as his eyes scanned the columns of cards.

A few minutes of silence follow before Steve speaks again.

“1996 Looney Toons film starring Michael Jordan. Eight letters.”

“Space Jam,” you smirk, and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You want to ask him what the theme is for the puzzle he’s working on but you decide against it. You don’t want to embarrass him.

It felt really silly. The three of you, all ex-military crime fighters on the run, couped up together in this tiny living room, playing cards and helping Captain America with a pop culture crossword. Maybe it just felt weird because it was so normal.

You’re sweating. You didn’t realize it until just now. The dampness of the underarms of your t-shirt was all you could focus on. Why were you so nervous? Because again, the universe if giving you every single sign to just tell him. Yell it out so loud it echoes back to you across the water. Tell him. Tell him everything.

Every harbored fantasy of being with him. Tell him how much he means to you and how sorry you are that your fears drive you away from him. He feels so strong, and stoic next to you, it’s making your head spin and you feel like your brain is leaving your body behind. He’s so understanding and patient, and here you are, again, leaving him on another cliff hanger.

“Sam, I need to tell you something.”

No going back now.

Taglist:

@greeneyedblondie44 @witchybarb @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @sassy-kassaay @aynanasstuff @claudiaatje @lieswithoutfairytales @ttalisa​ @januarystears 

[onenerdtwonagas]

Cultural Exchange

It had been nearly a month since the demigod moved in to Uriah’s apartment, and yet it didn’t feel nearly as odd as the young man had expected. Lessons on human etiquette were going surprisingly well, and it only took a week for Orpheus to stop growling or flinching every time an appliance beeped, or a car horn sounded from the streets below. Learning to use said appliances, however, would still take time, but Uriah was at least confident that Orpheus knew not to try operating any of them on his own just yet. He wasn’t stupid, by any means, just very new to the advances of human technology. It was like teaching a toddler to read or spell for the first time.

That being said, feeding and caring for a naga demigod was not always so simple. Uriah could and absolutely did his best to make sure Orpheus got enough to eat, though it was making a bit of a dent in his grocery bill. Finding clothes for him for the first time was a trial, too; he couldn’t very well take Orpheus with him, so finding clothes meant buying various styles and brands and having to traverse the stores multiple times to return whatever wasn’t going to work. And it certainly tried his poor nerves having to watch Orpheus in so many snug shirts and pants. A man can only take so much.

All the extra food and shopping expenses meant more work was needed, and until Orpheus was versed enough in human culture to have a job of any sort, that meant overtime for Uriah. He felt terrible, not being able to spend more time with Orpheus, but bills didn’t stop coming just because he wished they would. When he came home, Orpheus was always waiting for him, smiling and boasting whatever he’d managed to accomplish on his ‘homework’ assigned by Uriah. The first day he’d managed to memorize the alphabet, he’d been practically giddy.

Uriah recalled that evening as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, smiling to himself. The eagerness in Orpheus’ eyes when he’d asked to be shown how to spell Uriah’s name... The last ‘assignment’ he’d been working on was handwriting. Uriah could only imagine how excited Orpheus would be to show off his improvements.

“Babe, I’m home!”

He re-locked the door and shrugged off his jacket, cracking his neck to the left, then the right. The lights in the kitchen were on low, but it was quiet. His brow perked.

“Orpheus?”

Silence answered him. Odd. Normally he’d be halfway smothered in coils at that point, doing his best to fend off an almost-too-affectionate naga. Uriah set his small work bag on the counter and smoothed out his t-shirt, glancing into the living room space as he rounded the corner to the hallway. The only other light on came from the partially-open bedroom door, which Uriah cautiously eased in to.

“...Orpheus?”

The naga didn’t respond. He was reclined on the bed, tail sprawled partially on the mattress before spilling out on to the floor, and surrounding him were about half a dozen sheets of paper and a discarded pen. His bare chest rose and fell slowly, sound asleep, practically dead to the waking world.

Uriah snuck past the lazily wound tail on the floor and peeked over at the papers. Glancing up to make sure he hadn’t disturbed his lover, he leaned over and pulled the pages one by one, and turned them over. They were absolutely littered with Orpheus’ rough, but mildly improved handwriting, with hundreds of attempts at spelling Uriah’s name. Uriah muffled a sheepish groan with the pages pressed to his face as he caught sight of several flocks of hearts scribbled around what he assumed were Orpheus’ favorite attempts.

Good God, he’s so...

Uriah slid the papers down and peeked at Orpheus, still dozing. Usually, Orpheus made it a point to be the last to fall asleep, either by convenient hypnosis or Uriah’s own exhaustion. He liked to, as he put it, watch how peaceful he looked. It was a sweet sentiment, if not terribly embarrassing. But for the first time, Uriah got a good look at his sweetheart in the vulnerable state of sleep, all of his features softened and at ease. He’d never taken in Orpheus’ features like that before. The gentle, natural curve of his mouth, the length of his eyelashes, the way his silver hair fell across his face...

Uriah carefully eased up on to the bed, setting the papers aside and sitting close to Orpheus. It struck him how absolutely, completely, infinitely fortunate he was, that a demigod would love him so much. That someone, anyone, mortal or otherwise, would leave their home to be with him, to take the time to learn his culture, to understand an entirely new society’s way of doing things. Orpheus, heir to an immortal title of Night God, loved him, a mere human, so much that he spent hours practicing how to write his name, and littering the spaces between with fond scribbles of affection.

He smiled, watched Orpheus for a few moments more, and then reached out to brush his hair behind his ear. The naga stirred, his breath catching for a moment before his eyelids lazily fluttered open. It was almost a shame to wake him.

“Hmm...? Uriah?”

“Hi.”

“You’re home,” he said thickly, blinking. “What time...?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Orpheus shifted, looking up at Uriah. Something came to him.

“Oh. Oh, I uh—“ He stifled a yawn, barely hiding his fangs. “—practiced your name today. I wanted to show you.”

“I saw,” Uriah chuckled. He held up the papers briefly. “You must’ve been at it for a while.”

“Guess I was. Fell asleep doing it.”

He cocked his head slightly when he noticed Uriah’s eyes hadn’t left his face.

“What is it?”

“You,” Uriah said simply.

“Me? Do I have ink on me somewhere, or something?”

“No. It’s just... I realized how lucky I am, with you.”

Uriah stroked the line of Orpheus’ cheekbone with his thumb.

“How lucky I am to have met you, and that you love me, and how unbelievable it is that you’re mine. And you’re doing so much to learn how to live with me.”

Orpheus turned his face in to Uriah’s palm and nuzzled affectionately.

“I’d do anything for you, love.”

He shifted to sit up, but Uriah placed his hand on his chest.

“No, stay there. I want to enjoy this,” Uriah whispered, leaning over him. “Having a demigod all to myself...”

Orpheus smirked up at him, resettling into the pillows as Uriah hovered over him. He purred as Uriah closed the space between them, lips meeting for a blissfully long, tender moment. Uriah’s fingers combed through his hair, taking his time drawing sighs out of the naga beneath him.

“Mm...Not that I’m not thoroughly savoring this, but aren’t you tired? You worked all day,” Orpheus murmured. He traced a finger along Uriah’s jaw.

“No. I’ve got time for you. Especially after how hard you studied today. Ive gotta ask, though, but what possessed you to add all those goofy hearts?”

“You call those little things hearts?”

“What did you think they were?”

“Well, I assumed they meant ‘love’, at least, but I didn’t know what they were called, exactly,” Orpheus admitted. His cheeks tinted a mildly purple hue as he blushed. “They...they do mean ‘love’, don’t they?”

Uriah forced himself not to laugh.

“Yes, that’s what they mean.”

He paused, only mildly aware Orpheus was still touching his face.

“Do your kind have a symbol like that?”

“A love symbol? Of course, but it’s nothing like the one you humans use,” Orpheus answered. His hand dropped from Uriah’s cheek to stroke a knuckle along his collarbone. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I...just figure it’s only fair I learn about your culture, if you’re learning about mine.”

Orpheus’ smile grew a little wider.

“Let me see... Naga culture is fairly diverse, mind you, but there are a few universal words and symbols within our language.”

“Nagas have dialects?”

“Oh, dozens, hundreds. A naga from the desert will be infinitely different from one born in the mountains, or a river basin. And some will have accents within that.”

Uriah nodded.

“But the symbol for love tends to be rather similar, with just a little variation for some,” he continued. Orpheus’ hand dropped from Uriah’s collarbone to the center of his chest, a single claw tracing out the simple but twisting shape. He stared into Uriah’s eyes after, his gaze soft.

“That’s ‘love’. The two bound together, and space in the center containing all that is between them.”

Uriah felt warmth tingling across his face, and radiating beneath Orpheus’ finger where it remained on his chest.

“So...like this?”

He gently traced the same winding shape on Orpheus’ chest, looking into his face afterwards. Uriah wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the naga so smitten with him before.

“Just like that,” he praised.

“A-And, um...do you have a name for it, too?”

“We do.”

Orpheus bent up, his cheek brushing seductively against Uriah’s, and whispered into his ear in a language he couldn’t name. It was soft, lilting almost, with a silken hiss. He wouldn’t have been able to replicate it even if he tried, he was certain; no one could make it sound as sweet as it did coming off of Orpheus’ tongue. Uriah closed his eyes and repeated the gesture of the symbol on the naga’s chest.

“Say it again?” he asked shyly. Orpheus obliged and retraced the shape himself before kissing Uriah’s cheek, warm and affectionate.

“I-I wish I could pronounce that,” he confessed, a feather-light laugh escaping him.

“Maybe I can teach you,” Orpheus purred, beckoning Uriah back down with him. His strong arms wrapped around him, hands tracing over the man’s spine, coaxing his head onto his chest.

“It sounds beautiful. I’ve never heard you use that language before.”

“That’s the ancient tongue. It’s simplified quite a bit over the years, and in some areas I know we’ve mingled with human languages. Latin, for one, which sounds divine when you use it, by the way.”

“Oh, stop. I only know it for science jargon.”

“Divine jargon.”

They both shared a laugh, brief but sincere, before Uriah settled more comfortably against Orpheus. He loved laying with him like that, with his head over his heart, listening to his strong and steady pulse. Orpheus’ claws glided effortlessly through his curls, just barely ghosting against his scalp. Uriah loosely twirled a strand of his lover’s hair around his finger and let himself melt.

“I’m going to love learning with you. Every little thing.”

“I’d love nothing more.”

[theartofbeinganerd]

fs + "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop" YOU ARE AN AMAZING WRITER MY LORD

Oh my gosh, thank you so much anon!! And thank you for the prompt - there were so many different directions I could’ve gone with it, but this is the one that called out to me the most, so I hope you like it!

*Set in a non-SHIELD AU

(Ao3)

-

Hey Jemma! How havethings been? I’m going to be in town this weekend, and I thought it’d be niceto catch up a bit.

With wide, horrified eyes, Jemma scanned the relativelysimple text a couple more times before releasing a groan and burying her facein her pillow.

It had been almost a year and a half since she and Isaac hadmutually decided to break up; his company had transferred him to another branchhalfway across the country, and they’d agreed that keeping up the relationshiplong distance wasn’t what either of them had wanted at the time. Before thebreak-up, however, they’d been going strong, and it was the last seriousrelationship she’d had – but, she kept up with him on social media, and sheknew that he had a gorgeous newgirlfriend.

Of course, when the subject arose, she could just tell himthat she’d been focusing on work, or was simply uninterested in a relationship atthe moment – she could even respond to his text by telling him that she was toobusy to meet up at the moment, even though it was a blatant lie.

But, they truly had had a wonderful relationship, even if ithadn’t lasted long, and she didn’t want to miss an opportunity to catch up withan old friend just because she was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t had aserious boyfriend since theirs ended (or because she was afraid that he’d thinkshe was still into him, which was infinitely worse).

So, what was she to do, then?

Sighing in indecision, Jemma rolled over onto her side,where her gaze landed on her nightstand. There, sitting beside her alarm clock,was the framed picture she and Fitz had taken together on their trip to Perulast summer, wide grins plastered on their faces.

Inspiration hit her like a lightning strike, and she sat upwith a gasp. Of course – she couldtell Isaac that Fitz was herboyfriend! It was believable enough; they were both conventionally attractive,and had spent the better part of the past ten years at each other’s side, sothey were obviously compatible. With anyone else, it’d be practicallyinevitable that friendship would turn to romance, and Isaac didn’t have to knowthat she and Fitz were the exception.

Beaming in excitement and relief, Jemma quickly texted himback.

Hi Isaac! I’ve beenquite good, thank you. I’d love to catch up! I can’t wait to hear about thisgirlfriend you’re always talking about – and I’ll tell you all about my newrelationship as well, of course. Do you remember Fitz?

Letting out a content sigh, Jemma dropped back to themattress, already planning on the best way to break it to Fitz that she wasgoing to pretend, just for a little while, that they were dating. Surely, he’dbe alright with it, even if he put up a bit of a struggle at first; it was ofno consequence to him, really, not when Isaac still lived thousands of milesaway.

But, then, she received a response from Isaac, and her eyesnearly popped out of their sockets (well, alright, not nearly – that wasphysically impossible).

Wait wait wait – you andFitz?? Okay, this I have to see – I’ll invite Erica and you bring Fitz and we’llmake it a double date!

Oh no. Oh no.

Shit.

-

“You want me to what?”

Jemma winced, glancing around the cafeteria to make sure hisexclamation hadn’t drawn too much attention; perhaps, asking him for his helpduring their lunch break from work wasn’t the best of plans. “It’s not that bigof a deal, Fitz!” she insisted, clasping her hands beneath her chin and givinghim a pleading look. “I can’t go todinner with Isaac and his girlfriend and show up without you now!”

“But me?” Fitzgestured toward himself incredulously, his eyes widened. “Why would you even… Thewhole reason he’s expecting me is because youtold him we were dating – why the hellwould you do that, Simmons?!”

She sighed in exasperation, holding her hands outhelplessly. “I don’t know! I just sawthe picture of us on my nightstand and it was the only idea I could come up withand…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Look, that doesn’t matter anymore;what matters is the fact that he’s expecting you to come to dinner with us.”

Fitz groaned, sagging a bit in his seat and rolling his eyestoward the ceiling. “Why don’t you tell him I’m just…I don’t know, busy orsomething? Working late or…maybe I died in a freak lab accident?” When Jemmashot him a disapproving glare, he shrugged. “What? It could happen!”

“Fitz, please, Ineed your help on this.” She reached across the table to lay her hand over his,giving him a pleading look. “I promise, I’ll never ask you to pretend to be my boyfriend ever again. Justtomorrow night, and then you’ll never even hearme say the word ‘boyfriend’ around you again.”

He made a strange face then, but he quickly dropped his gazeto his lap before she could try and figure it out. His shoulders rose and fell witha sigh, then he gave a jerky nod. “Alright. Alright, fine, just this once.”

Jemma let out a little squeal of excitement, jumping up fromher seat and hurrying around the table to grab him in a tight hug. “Oh thank you, Fitz! You’re the absolutebest, truly! I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

“Alright, yes, I’m a wonderful pushover, I understand,” Fitzgrumbled, though Jemma could tell that he was acting more bothered than heactually was.

She released him from the hug, but didn’t step backcompletely until after she’d pressed a quick kiss of gratitude to his cheek. “Youreally are a pushover, aren’t you?” she teased as he pointedly wiped his cheekwith his sleeve. “Fortunately for you, your secret’s safe with me.”

Fitz gave her a small smile, looking a bit weary all of asudden. “Yeah, fortunately.”

-

The next night, Jemma found herself at a table in anexpensive restaurant, sitting next to Fitz and across from Isaac and hisgirlfriend, Erica.

And things weren’t going well. At all.

They’d only been there for twenty minutes or so, and eventhough Fitz’s arm was around the back of Jemma’s chair and they were sittingclose together, she could just tellthat Isaac was suspicious. His sharp, narrowed eyes kept darting between them,even as he kept up the congenial conversation; she knew him well enough to knowthat he wasn’t completely buying the fake relationship she and Fitz were tryingto sell (which, truthfully, seemed a bit absurd – strangers always seemed tothink she and Fitz were dating when they very much weren’t pretending to be).

“So,” Isaac started casually, “how did you two even go aboutgetting together? I seem to remember that, despite being the closest pair ofbest friends I’ve ever seen, you were vehement about just being friends.”

Jemma shifted a bit nervously in her chair, but she’dprepared extensively for this, so shehurriedly began to recite her pre-planned story, “Oh, well, about six monthsago, on the twelfth of October – I remember because I had a dentist appointmentthe day before – Fitz and I went out, like we always do on Friday nights. Weeach had two and a half beers, which is enough alcohol to get the averageperson tipsy, and when we got back to his apartment at twelve thirty, Fitz kissedme. It was a complete surprise, of course, but then I kissed him back, and therest is history.”

She heard Fitz let out a quiet groan next to her, and saw Isaacarch an eyebrow as he said flatly, “Uh-huh.”

Beginning to panic a bit, Jemma cleared her throat and saidhurriedly, “Would you excuse us for a moment? I just need to talk to Fitz aboutsomething.” Without waiting for a response, she stood up, grasping Fitz’s handand leading him through the relatively crowded restaurant to the empty hallwayleading to the restrooms.

“He doesn’t believe us!” she hissed in distress, hooking herhands around her neck.

Fitz snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “What? Howon earth could that be possible afterthat wonderfully detailed account of our first kiss?”

Jemma scowled, shoving his shoulder angrily. “Fitz! Would you take this seriously,please?”

“I am!” he insisted defensively.

“We need to sellit,” she explained, planting her hands on her hips and frowning inconcentration. “We need to do something that’ll make it impossible for him to believe anything but that we’re completely inlove.”

“And how do you plan to accomplish that?” Fitz askedskeptically.

Jemma gave it another moment of thought, then she gasped asit hit her. “Of course! Fitz, we can’tjust tell him we’ve kissed – we haveto actually kiss in front of him!”When his eyes widened, she hastily added, “I promise, I’ll make it up to you –I’ll even make you your favorite sandwich! For a week straight!”

He took a physical step back, looking a bit pale as hedragged a hand over his face. “Jemma…”

Concern began to build inside of her as she asked, “Fitz, isthere…is there a problem with that?” When his only response was to let out anincredulous huff, as though it should’ve been obvious, she went on hesitantly, “Is the problem that you’re…repulsedby the very idea of…kissing me?”

Fitz dropped his hand from his face, arching his eyebrows ather as he threw his hands up in surrender. “The problem is, if I kissed you…Idon’t think I’d be able to stop. Alright, there is it, okay?”

For a moment, the words just didn’t connect for Jemma,because Fitz didn’t want to kiss her –that was ridiculous! But, then she saw the desperate look in his eyes, theapologetic frown tugging his lips down at the corners, and she realized that hewas telling the truth, which meant…

Feeling her breathing pick up speed, her heartbeatquickening in her chest, Jemma asked in a whisper, “What?” There had to be somekind of explanation; perhaps she was dreaming, or Fitz had become an incredibleactor without her notice and was simply pulling one of his dumb pranks. It hadto be something other than…

Fitz let out a heaving breath, resting his hands on his hipsas he admitted, “At some point in the past couple of months, I…I dunno, I just…wokeup to the realization that maybe I…I have more than…friendly feelings toward you. And I’m sorry, Jemma, really. I never wanted to tell you, Ijust wanted things to stay the same, but then you asked me to pretend to beyour boyfriend and I thought maybe I’d be able to get through it without makingthings awkward but I just…I can’tkiss you. Because…because then I’ll have to spend the rest of my life knowingwhat it’s like and…and I just want us to be able to stay friends after this…”He pressed his lips together, his shoulders drooping a bit as he added sadly, “Thatis, if you even still want to be.”

For a brief moment, Jemma continued to gape at Fitz as hiswords sunk in. Then, however, she did the only thing she could think to do inthat moment; she surged forward, cradling his face in her hands as she pressedher lips to his.

It was far better than she ever could’ve imagined, his lips were warm and softand fit perfectly against hers, and Jemma had the sudden, insane thought thatmaybe she would be the one that was unableto stop. But, then, before she could test that hypothesis, Fitz abruptly brokeaway from her.

Blinkingly dazedly, Jemma watched Fitz turn away from her,practically trembling as he pressed one hand to the wall, almost as though heneeded the support to continue standing. “Jemma, don’t – please don’t just do that because…because of my feelings.That’s the last thing I want, okay?”

Gently, she reached out to grasp his arm, tugging until he’dturned back around to face her, revealing his eyes filled with worry and fearand an affection he was clearly trying to hide. “Fitz,” she started softly, butalso firmly, refusing to allow him to have any doubts, “I did that because of my feelings.” When he raised hiseyebrows in clear disbelief, she went on haltingly, “It never made sensebefore, the way I feel about you, I mean, until…until just now, when you said Iwas more than a friend to you and…and of course now it’s obvious and I feel so ridiculously blind and…” She paused, thenasked sadly, “Why didn’t you tell me before,Fitz?”

He blinked a couple of times, looking completely shocked.After a moment, he quietly confessed, “I just never thought… It never seemedpossible… Jemma, are you…are you sure?”

Jemma laughed softly, nodding as she trailed her fingersdown his arm to clasp his hand within hers. “I am,” she assured him.

Fitz smiled a bit disbelievingly, giving her hand a tinysqueeze as he said with a chuckle, “Y’know, I never expected this reaction – I mean, it’s definitelymuch better than all of the scenarios I’d imagined could happen if I ever toldyou about my feelings, which…usually involved the world ending, or something.”

She rolled her eyes fondly, a beaming grin on her face asshe popped up onto the tips of her toes to kiss him again. It was meant to bebrief, but as she went to part from him, Fitz’s free hand rose to cup the backof her head, keeping her close. His lips moved slowly over hers, as though hewanted to memorize every inch of her, wanted to memorize the shape of hermouth, the taste of her lips. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, dragging amoan from her throat, and she had to clutch his shoulders as she became justslightly lightheaded.

After a long moment, Jemma managed to find the strength tolean back just enough to tell him slyly, “If we leave now, I promise this isthe last time you’ll have to stop kissing me all night long.”

He made a show of thinking it over, unsuccessfully hidinghis brilliant grin as he replied, “I’ll only agree if you throw in the rest ofour lives.”

Jemma couldn’t help her joyful little laugh, giving his handa quick squeeze. “We’ll see how tonight goes, but the odds appear to be in yourfavor.”

With that, they returned to the table, hand-in-hand and notbothering to hide the telling grins on their faces. “I’m sorry to cut the nightshort, but we’re going to take off,” she explained to Isaac and Erica, tryingto sound apologetic, but she didn’t think she got the tone quite right – nor didshe really care at the moment.

Isaac lifted his eyebrows, glancing between them in clearsurprise, then he cleared his throat lightly. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine.”However, he then leaned in and told Fitz lowly, “Hey, you’ve…uh…you’ve got somelipstick, just uh…” He pointed to his own mouth, wincing a bit.

Both Fitz and Jemma gave embarrassed laughs, and she quicklythumbed away the bit of her lipstick clinging to his bottom lip. “Thanks, mate,”Fitz said, flushing slightly, but looking too proud of himself to be truly self-conscious.

They turned to leave, but Isaac called after them, and oncethey’d glanced back, he admitted, “I’m happy for you guys, you know. It’s goodto see that you’ve finally caught up to what everyone else always thought wasinevitable – even though you both denied it.”

Jemma shared a soft smile with Fitz as she murmured, “Yeah,me too.”