I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Simmons bit her lip. Had she been clear enough? Given how oblivious Fitz could be when it came to matters of the heart, she wouldn't put it past him to mistake her. Drumming her fingers along the lab counter, she quickly recounted the contents of the note - painstakingly written and re-written on paper squares until the words spaced out prettily and didn't bunch up at the end:

"Fitz - Please don't die. I love you. - Jemma"

She'd thought that, brief as it was, the message was obvious, but just in case Fitz decided she meant it as a friend, she'd drawn a heart around the whole thing. Which, honestly, was a much girlier flourish than Simmons was given to, and really, it seemed like something Skye would've done. Simmons was a government agent, after all, who prided herself on being professional. She'd spent far too long being judged for her age, her appearance, her gender... sigh. She couldn't afford to be drawing hearts around boys' names.

But she'd needed to tell him how she felt. Simmons was terrible at this sort of thing, that much was a given. The right time had been in his bunk, after the Chitauri virus. Fitz was rambling as usual, his words tangling as they fought to escape his teeth, and she'd desperately wanted to close his mouth with her lips, to make him understand what he meant to her, to thank him for saving her life. But the door was open and he wouldn't look at her and they were such good friends and he might not feel the same and it was against protocol anyway and and and… Simmons lost her nerve.

Then, when she learned they were to be separated, that her best friend was being sent into the field unprepared, she let her mind wander into dangerous scenes where he didn't come home, or came home broken. And she knew that she had to say something because Fitz was more important than any job, more important than following rules, even. So she drew a big, goofy heart around her words, feeling like a 9-year-old who spells her name with an i instead of a y so she can dot it with a daisy, and wrapped the napkin around his sandwich where he couldn't possibly miss it when he went to take a bite.

And even though some internal Jemma screamed with insecurity at what she'd told him and how she'd said it, another one sat quietly relieved, humming under her breath, fingers flying as they knitted Fitz a scarf to match his eyes. And it was with that peaceful Jemma that Simmons identified at the moment, taking a deep breath and letting it sail out of her mouth. Because after all this time and all the near misses, she'd somehow -insanely- finally declared her love. And now it was up to Fitz.

A/N: This is my first fic ever, on any site. I had this idea, "What if Fitz lying to Simmons about the sandwich was a much bigger deal than he realized?" I am not a writer (unless you count a college poetry class years ago) nor am I a scientist, but I get the sense that this community is very welcoming, and I was inspired to write my first Fitzsimmons story . I feel silly trying to fake the science stuff, so I'll probably try to avoid techno-babble whenever possible,. This has not been beta'd. Please let me know what you think! Thanks in advance.