A/N: This was written for Tumblr user mrsdecaestecker in response to her lovely aesthetic set "Perfect date with Jemma Simmons." I hope you like it! :)

She didn't ask him right away, although she certainly wanted to.

She didn't ask him as the sun streamed in through the thin curtains that morning, bathing his shorter-than-usual curls in warm golden light. It took her a few attempts to wake him up, with the jet lag still in full effect, but eventually he opened his eyes to watch her bustle around the room. All while he remained under the comfort of the warm covers, of course.

She expected him to complain about the hour, to argue that they were on holiday and sleeping in was a fundamental part of said holiday (his words, not hers), or to even just groan at her the way he always did when she interrupted his sleep. Instead he surprised her with nothing more than a sleepy smile and a small wave from the bed. Like he knew just how excited she was for today and wasn't even going to bother fighting her on it.

How odd.

She didn't ask him as they boarded the small boat that would take them a couple miles west of Praslin, or when she handed him one of his favorite protein bars to get him through the early morning. She could tell his curiosity was increasing with the steadily rising sun, but Jemma was determined to keep her meticulously planned schedule a surprise. After the date he'd taken her on a few weeks ago – the planetarium, the bike ride, the picnic, the laser tagging (which she suspected was more for him than for her, despite the fact that she'd nearly beaten him), and the dinner – she knew she had to plan something that would absolutely blow him away.

If this was a competition, then Jemma Simmons was going to win.

She didn't ask him as she began to dab sun cream on the back of his neck, or when he tried to duck away from her reach when she went for his cheekbones.

"You do realize I'm capable of doing this myself, yeah?"

"Well, naturally," Jemma sighed in exasperation, relentless in her task. "But who's to say you're actually going to?"

He reached to grab the tube of sun cream out of her hands. "Good grief, could you just –"

"It's going to be a long day, Fitz, and you're as pasty as they come. You and I both know you'll look like a tomato unless you take the proper precautions."

Her words made him pause, the tube of sun cream momentarily forgotten in their now entwined hands. "Oh, pasty?" he snorted, his lips curling into a smirk. "Really? And when did you become so sun-kissed?"

Despite herself, Jemma couldn't help but smile along with him at the memory. She could scarcely believe how much had happened between them since that day - the day she'd thought would be her last. They'd been so young then, so full of wonder and hope, their curiosity unfazed by the terrors they did not yet know. But this time, there was no malice in his voice, no fear or hurt or anxiety twisting his expression. This time, they were not separated by a glass barrier, or misunderstandings, or unspoken words. For the first time in nearly three years, they could simply be together without the constant fear that some act of fate would tear them apart. For the first time in nearly three years, they were simply FitzSimmons again, the best of friends – only now they were more than that.

Fitz had been joking, but Jemma could see the weight of his memories pressing down on him too. The intensity on his face mirrored the intensity she'd seen behind the glass what felt like a lifetime ago, even if it was much more gentle now. He was a different Fitz than the Fitz he'd been on that day, and yet he was still exactly the same. Ever her favorite person. Ever the hero.

The moment between them stretched out, although it couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. The sun was cresting over the top of Fitz's head, giving him a halo of sunlight as the boat sailed closer to the Reserve. And despite the fact that this was well and truly their first glimpse of the Seychelles in the daytime (their flight had landed late last night), Jemma found that nothing – not the thousands of fish in the clear water below them or the cloudless sky above or any of the gorgeous scenery coming into view – compared to what was right in front of her.

(Had his eyes always been so blue?)

Jemma cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn't notice how she'd lost her breath for a moment. "I've already got sun cream on," she told him with an air of superiority. For someone who'd gotten out of bed an entire hour before he had, she felt it was justified.

Fitz rolled his eyes, but Jemma could tell he wasn't all that annoyed. "Fine," he said, extricating the container from her grasp. "But I can get the rest myself, thank you very much."

She didn't ask him as he nearly emptied the bottle in an attempt to cover his bare skin, or when some of the other passengers started giving him funny looks.

"Fitz," she scolded him, but she was mostly trying not to laugh. "Now you're just being silly."

"There's nothing silly about protection, Jemma." His tone was gravely serious, even though there was a thick layer of sun cream on his face and arms. He looked at his hands forlornly, like he didn't know what to do with the excess lotion, and before Jemma could stop him he reached over and placed his palm on the back of her neck.

"Oh, Fitz!" she cried as she failed to squirm away from him in time. Now the other passengers were definitely looking at them.

"What?" Fitz asked, his expression the picture of feigned innocence. "You always miss the tips of your ears."

Jemma was so bloody happy that she couldn't even find the strength to glare at him.

She didn't ask him as they made the measly attempt to rub the overabundance of sun cream into their skin - resulting in the pair of them looking even paler than they normally did – or when they stepped onto the Warden boat that would take them directly to the island.

As the small vessel coasted directly onto the sand, Jemma secretly wished they could forgo the guided tour and go off on their own. But she of all people understood the importance of keeping everything strictly controlled, especially in a reserve like this where pests could be easily introduced. That didn't stop her from starting an impromptu tour speech, though, showing off her research as they waited in the designated area for the Warden. She was trying to impress him, after all.

"Cousin Island used to be a coconut plantation, but it was purchased by BirdLife about fifty years ago to try and save the endemic Seychelles warbler. There were only twenty-six at the time, practically extinct, really, but because of the habitat restoration program, the island's natural vegetation has regenerated. So the warbler has increased its population to over three thousand on this island alone!"

Jemma let out a small laugh, looking up at the trees with barely-concealed wonder. "Can you believe it?" she breathed. "The universe was telling this small, seemingly insignificant species, that it was time to die…and they said no." It took her only a fraction of a second to slide into the joke. "You could say they were cursed –"

"Oh, for God's sake, Jemma –"

"But they just told the cosmos to shove off."

The Warden arrived at that moment to take them on their tour, but Fitz took the few moments of introduction to lace his fingers with hers. He was still shaking his head at her merciless teasing, even as he brought her hand to the smile on his lips.

The two of them hovered in the back of the group, content to murmur amongst themselves as the Warden dove into the history of the island that Jemma had just explained.

"This is the reserve with the turtles, yeah?" Fitz asked.

"Well technically most, if not all, of the granitic islands contain a vast number of turtles," she said with a smirk. Fitz stared at her blankly, like he knew he'd walked into that one but couldn't find the energy to give her a proper reaction. Jemma continued on. "But this particular reserve is one of the best protected sites for nesting Hawksbill turtles, true. And it also has the highest –"

"Density of lizards per hectare in the world, yes, I'm well aware," Fitz finished for her. He seemed to catch himself, the hint of an apology written on his face, as if he were trying not to engage in their normal competitive banter today. Sure, his comments could be a bit annoying sometimes, but Jemma wished he wouldn't hold back for her sake. Despite her excitement and thorough planning, this day was supposed to be for him.

He nudged her arm playfully. "You know I was actually talking about the –"

"Yes, I know which tortoises," she emphasized, earning an eye roll in response, "you were talking about, Fitz." She sighed, giving him a smile. "Now quit ruining all the surprises."

Fitz perked up a bit after that.

She didn't ask him for the remainder of the tour, or while they explored the plateau, or when Fitz wanted a photo of her next to one of the trees.

"But why?" she laughed, more surprised than anything. She was usually the one to break out the camera app on her phone, not the other way around.

"For posterity, Jemma," Fitz replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "So I have actual documented proof that Coulson let us go on holiday." It was only part of the reason, and both of them knew it. He wanted to remember them as they were at that very moment: carefree, incandescently happy, and together.

So she smiled for the camera.

She didn't ask him when they reached the highlight of the tour, or when his face lit up at seeing the giant tortoise on the edge of the beach.

"Fitz, meet George," Jemma announced proudly, more than a little pleased that the rest of their group was too far off to notice just yet. "He's an Aldabran giant tortoise that's been on this earth for over a hundred sixty years."

"Well, you're still a sprightly one, though, aren't you, old chap?" Fitz murmured, kneeling next to George and gently placing a hand on his shell. "I bet you've seen a lot more than you bargained for being around so long."

Jemma's face was starting to hurt from all the smiling, but she didn't really mind. "His hobbies include sleeping, eating, and procreating. I'm also told he really enjoys breaking things."

"Oh, we'll get along just fine then." Fitz grinned up at her from his spot on the ground, and leaned in towards the tortoise to whisper conspiratorially. "That's Jemma," he told George. "Best be careful around that one. She hates it when you break things."

Jemma snapped her own photo, one that she knew would earn a spot amongst her favorites, and still she didn't ask him.

She didn't ask him on the journey back to the mainland, or when they stopped for a quick lunch along the beach, or even when she indulged him and went for a pair of ice cream cones afterwards.

"Dr. Jemma Simmons, PhD, having a real ice cream cone?" Fitz teased her, trying to catch a bit that was dripping onto his hand. "We must really be on holiday."

"Oh please, Fitz," she groaned, but he had a point. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a frozen dessert that wasn't made from soy or coconut milk. Jemma willed her stomach to behave, particularly during their next activity.

She didn't ask him as they headed back to their resort, or when they changed into their swimsuits, or when she pulled out the snorkeling gear that had been hidden at the bottom of her luggage. And she definitely didn't ask him as they stood in ankle-deep water, about to take a plunge she wasn't quite sure they were ready for yet.

Jemma sensed his hesitation before she even glanced at his face. "You all right?" she asked gently.

Fitz was staring down at the water. A few yellow rabbitfish fluttered near his feet. "Yeah," he nodded, whispering so softly she could barely hear him. "Yeah, it's just –"

"I know," Jemma assured him and reached over to lightly squeeze his hand. "I'm nervous too."

He tore his gaze away from the sea, a thousand words and emotions written plainly on his face as he turned to look at her. "You are?"

Jemma simply nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady. And she could see in his eyes, eyes that had been to the bottom of the sea and the other side of the universe, that it was enough. Having her there was enough.

Fitz bounced a little on his heels, obviously in an attempt to get himself ready for the task ahead. The rabbitfish around his ankles darted away at the sudden movement. But his hand remained clasped tightly onto her own, even though Jemma had no intention of letting go.

She cursed herself for her foolishness. Why hadn't she thought this through? "We don't have to if you don't want to, Fitz," she said sincerely. "Besides, there are plenty of other engaging activities on the island that we could –"

"What?" he asked, turning his head sharply. He took in her pained expression and pulled her closer to him. "No, no, no, Jemma," he laughed, although his left hand was shaking a bit as he went to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I want to, okay?" His fingertip traced along her jaw line, giving her gooseflesh as he gently tilted her face towards him. "I want to."

He paused just then, his hand still resting lightly on her face. And though he was looking her in the eye, his gaze seemed to shift, unfocused, no longer seeing her but their underwater coffin at the bottom of the sea. "Sometimes I forget…" His voice trailed off, and Jemma held her breath.

"Forget what?" she whispered.

As quiet as she'd been, her voice seemed to pull him out of his trance. "That you were down there too."

Jemma found herself surprised, even though she knew what he'd meant. It wasn't that he didn't remember. It was that while he'd emerged from the water physically and mentally different, he'd also had to see Jemma emerge unscathed. And perhaps he was now finally realizing that that couldn't be further from the truth. She hadn't emerged unscathed. She hadn't been fine.

And she would never be able to forget either.

"It's about time we both got out there again, isn't it?" he chuckled, the dark glint in his eyes replaced by the more familiar mischief.

Jemma swallowed down her nerves. "Yes, well…" She cleared her throat. "We won't go too far, or too deep, and if there's ever a time you want to stop –"

"I'll let you know," he promised, dropping a soft kiss on her forehead. "Besides, I don't think I'll have too much to worry about. I've got you out there with me, don't I?"

She didn't ask him then, but she was a bit too choked up for words anyway.

Surprisingly, the snorkeling experience was actually quite extraordinary. Jemma figured she shouldn't be all that surprised, considering this was something they'd talked about doing since their Academy days. (Well, she'd talked; he'd sort of listened.) But eventually even Fitz began to point out some of the rare fish species they came across.

They didn't stray too far from shore, although they didn't really have to. A plethora of bright, colorful fish swam alongside them the entire way, and Jemma was absolutely elated that Fitz seemed to be really enjoying himself. In fact, it was hours before they finally came back to shore, and Jemma knew the only reason they'd stopped was to get some more food into Fitz's system.

She didn't ask him as they cleaned up for dinner, or when his mouth hung open when he saw where she'd brought him.

"Finally, a surprise I managed to keep from you," Jemma grinned. Fitz was still staring in open-mouthed shock at the spectacle before him.

"How the bloody hell –"

"Coulson was very generous."

It actually wasn't far from the truth. Jemma had rehearsed her speech for weeks after they'd lost Lincoln, not wanting to impose on Coulson in case she or Fitz were needed, but also desperately wanting some time away from the base. She'd approached his office late in the evening, shortly after the date Fitz had taken her on. She'd barely even gotten one word out when Coulson had wordlessly handed her a large manila envelope.

"What's this?" she'd asked, flipping open the clasp and letting out a small gasp. There'd been a couple passports, some documents, and…well, more cash than she'd ever laid eyes on at once.

Coulson had glanced up from his desk. "Just take it, Jemma," he'd said, surprising her once again. He rarely used her first name, and only with a million apologies in his eyes. This time was no different. "You two deserve a vacation."

She'd had more questions than she could count, more to do with how S.H.I.E.L.D. could lend such valuable resources for recreational activity and less to do with the fact that he'd somehow known she'd wanted a holiday with Fitz. But the desperation clawing at her insides had silenced those queries.

"Thank you, sir."

They were all the words she'd been able to find, but one look at Coulson had told her that he'd understood.

Now here they were, breathing fresh air and trying to move forward and taking one small fraction of time for themselves. To say Jemma was happy would be a terribly gross understatement.

They made their way to the edge of the secluded cove, Fitz still gaping, where a lone table sat in the sand. The sun was dropping lower towards the horizon, lending a soft glow to the already picturesque scene. Jemma was pleased to see that the wine she'd chosen had already been placed in an ice bucket (there would be no crying this time, she was determined), and a vase of flowers was adorning the table.

They were visited only twice, as per Jemma's earlier request. A kind gentleman who spoke only French delivered their food, also giving them fresh glasses of water. Jemma thanked him, glad it was a language she could actually speak, and then they were alone.

"You've really gone all out with this, haven't you?" Fitz asked, his voice tinged with wonder as he poured them both a glass of the chardonnay.

(Even then, she didn't ask him.)

"Just wait 'til you try the lobster," she said with an almost giddy smile. "I'm told the chef here drizzles a sauce over it that's to die for."

Jemma could tell Fitz was ravenous, particularly after their earlier excursion, but he barely glanced at the food in front of him. Instead he lifted up his wine glass. "Didn't exactly get a chance to make that toast last time, did I?"

He was smirking, but Jemma still felt a burn on her cheeks. "Sorry about that," she muttered, glancing down at her lap. Despite their conversations and how much time had passed since then, she was still mortified by how that night had turned out.

"Hey," Fitz murmured gently, reaching for her hand. He gave her an encouraging smile. "Don't worry about it. I've got a much better one planned this time anyway."

"Oh, really?" Jemma asked with a small laugh. She'd had a toast planned too, come to think of it, but Fitz had always been better at that sort of thing. She went to raise her own glass. "And what've you got, Shakespeare?"

"To you and me," he said simply, his smile fading as he put all of what he wanted to say in those four words. "May the cosmos kindly shove off the next time it tries to rip us apart."

Jemma might have laughed, if there hadn't been tears prickling at the edge of her vision. "Cheers," she replied, clinking his glass with hers. Under the table, where their hands were still clasped together, Fitz gave her fingers a small squeeze.

She didn't ask him throughout the entire dinner, or when they were brought dessert (coconut sorbet, absolutely heavenly), or as they took the scenic route back to their resort. Jemma never thought they'd be the type of couple to take long walks on the beach at sunset, holding hands like a pair of lovesick fools, but there they were. And clichés be damned, everything about it was magnificent.

"Hope you're not too tired yet," Jemma teased him as she shut their room door. "I've got just one more surprise for you."

"Oh?" Fitz responded, his voice coming out in practically a squeak, although Jemma hadn't the faintest idea why. Hadn't her surprises been more than satisfactory so far?

"Yes," she said, somewhat annoyed. "I'm just gonna change into something a bit more comfortable first, though, all right?"

"…Oh?" There was that squeak again. Now she was fully annoyed.

"Yes," Jemma replied with forced patience. "I'll just be a moment."

When she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, she was puzzled to see Fitz fussing with the pillows on the bed. The duvet had been turned down, and Jemma noticed that some of the lights in the room had been reduced to a low setting.

"Fitz, what are you doing?"

Fitz looked up from his work, his eyes widened like he'd been caught with his hand in the proverbial biscuit tin. "I was just…" He voice grew quieter as he looked her up and down. "Oh."

"What?" Jemma asked, glancing down at her polka dot pajamas. She thought they'd been clean, but perhaps she'd missed something?

"Nothing, it's just…" Fitz scratched the back of his head as his words came out in a mumble. "You actually put on something comfortable."

Jemma was completely baffled. "That's what I said I was going to do, wasn't it?"

"It's…you know, it's just…" He seemed to realize that she had no clue what he was going on about, so he cleared his throat. "W-what's the surprise, now?"

Despite her confusion, Jemma managed to give him a knowing smile. "You've got to close your eyes first."

If anything, his eyes grew wider. "All right, yeah," he said breathlessly, looking strangely nervous as he nodded. "Um, should I be here, or should I be on the bed or…?"

Jemma didn't think it really mattered. "Bed should be fine," she shrugged.

Fitz breathed out shakily, continuing to nod to himself while he closed his eyes and sat on the edge of the duvet. Jemma got to work grabbing her laptop and the DVD she'd hidden in the pocket of her rucksack. By the time she'd put the disc in and opened up the appropriate program, Fitz was nervously drumming his fingers on his knees. Her confusion only increased further when she noticed him trying to rub the sweat from his palms onto his trousers. What on earth could he possibly be nervous about? Or expecting, for that matter? Jemma figured she should probably put him out of his strange misery as soon as possible.

"All right, you can open your eyes now," she announced brightly, bouncing down on the end of the bed next to him.

Fitz nearly jumped from the sudden movement and gingerly opened his eyes. It took him a few moments for his vision to come into focus, going from her to the laptop in her hands to the title sequence now coming onto the screen.

"I…wh…" His brow furrowing in bewilderment, Fitz seemed to be at a loss for words. "That's, uh…not…not what I was expecting."

Jemma rolled her eyes. "Well, that's the nature of a surprise, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he laughed, his voice an octave higher than usual. "I just meant that it's, uh…" He stole a glance at Jemma's face (which was currently expressing fear for his sanity) and quickly shook his head, like he was trying to forget something. "You know what, never mind." He cleared his throat again, crossing his arms in a decidedly deflective manner. "So, um…Little Mermaid? Really?"

"Don't act like you don't love it, Fitz," Jemma teased, glad they'd gotten back to a conversation topic she could understand. "Besides, I thought it fit quite nicely with today's theme."

Fitz scoffed. "Only you would plan a date with a theme."

Jemma moved back on the bed until she was resting on the recently plumped pillows. "I thought today was a smashing success, actually, but I suppose you beg to differ?"

But Fitz was smiling as he went to join her, placing the laptop in the center of the bed so they could both see. "I would never."

And even then, presented with the perfectly opportune moment, she didn't ask him.

Jemma went to play the movie, but during the opening credits she was plagued by a moment of self-doubt. "If you don't want to watch it, Fitz, I've got some other ones."

"No, no, it's fine," Fitz assured her, draping an arm over her shoulder as they settled back into the pillows. "It's…nice, actually." His voice grew quieter as the movie began. "Kind of reminds me of before. Only, well…there's just a few more perks this time around."

Jemma gave him a smile before going to rest her head on his shoulder. She couldn't agree more, really. This was something they'd done a thousand times before, watching a Disney film on one of their laptops, her head leaned against him as they took just a bit of time for themselves. Even his fingertips idly tracing patterns on her arm was blissfully familiar. But in all that time, in all those moments, she'd never had a word for the warmth she felt, the warmth that spread all the way down to her toes. She knew what that feeling was now. It was home.

Fitz was home.

Normally, Jemma would have fallen asleep about halfway through the film, particularly after an eventful day like the one they'd had. But the weight of her question burrowed through her core tonight, making it nearly impossible for her to focus on anything but each point of contact she shared with Fitz. His fingertips on her skin sent an almost electric shiver down her spine, like he was giving her little shocks every time he touched her.

There was only one time she noticed him tense up. It was during one of the more dramatic moments, when Ariel became increasingly frustrated that she wasn't getting through to Prince Eric. Jemma felt a sharp pang of regret: of all the movies (Disney or otherwise) at their disposal, had she really had to go and pick this one? The tears in Ariel's eyes, the ones she had because Eric couldn't understand her, brought Jemma back to a time when she'd been on the other side. When she'd had to watch helplessly as Fitz struggled to talk to her.

They'd worked through it somewhat, and Jemma knew that it'd be a long time before the memories of that heartbreak would fade away. But as Jemma slipped her hand into his, anchoring him to where they were now, she knew that they'd get through it. They'd get through it the way they always had.

Together.

Jemma had wanted to wait until the movie was over. She really had. But when Ariel interfered to save Eric from Ursula, she couldn't keep it in anymore. She leaned forward to pause the movie.

"Do you still think I'm not romantic?"

She'd meant to ask the question in a playful manner, but it came out entirely wrong. Her insecurity conveyed clearly in her voice, and Jemma suddenly felt exposed. She didn't drop her gaze from Fitz, though, despite the reddening in her cheeks and the fear of what he'd say.

Fitz seemed startled by the interruption. "I…what?"

Jemma repeated her question, more confidently this time. "Do you still think I'm not romantic?"

To her surprise, Fitz just smirked. "Jemma," he said in his mockingly gentle tone. "I think you make a truly valiant effort sometimes, and God knows you probably planned your perfect date out with…bloody terrifying precision, actually. But let's face it." He gave her an apologetic wince. "We both know I'm still the romantic one."

"Oh, really?" she replied, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "And I suppose you've got it all figured out, have you? Okay then, you tell me. What would your perfect date be?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Saturday after Thanksgiving, the year we met."

Jemma was thrown. Of all the answers she'd been expecting, that had not been one of them. She hadn't thought he would even be able to answer her, much less give her an exact date. It took her a few seconds to respond.

"What?"

Fitz laughed a little, turning a bit on the bed to face her. "It was during our first project, remember?"

Jemma shook her head. "I remember the project, but…"

"Yeah, you practically insisted on us taking a break, so we went into town, went to that little bookshop on the corner. You know, the one with all the scientific books up in the balcony? Stopped by the pet store –"

Jemma felt herself beginning to smile, the memories starting to come back to her as well. "You wanted to know if they had any –"

"Monkeys, right," he nodded. "Which they didn't but, you know, not everything can be perfect. And then, um…I think we got some ice cream before we headed back to the Academy."

Jemma was still stunned. "That's your idea of a perfect date?" she asked incredulously. "It was just a trip into town. We hardly did anything!"

"But we didn't have to," Fitz said. He glanced down at their hands, where his thumb was lightly running over her knuckles. "That was the first time that I…" He took a breath. "You were the first real friend I ever made over there, and if it hadn't been for that day, that project…" He looked up at her again, uncertainty in his eyes but powering through anyway. "I don't think I would've stayed."

Words continued to fail Jemma, so Fitz gave her a smile. "Today was brilliant, Jemma," he assured her. "All right? I'm just saying that my idea of a perfect date really isn't all that complicated. We could've been in the Seychelles or Sheffield and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference to me, as long as you were there."

Damn. That was a really good answer. Perhaps Fitz really was the romantic one.

Before she could stop herself, Jemma leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. There was a split second of surprise from Fitz, but he soon relaxed beside her, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back. She kissed him softly, despite the urgency screaming in her veins, wanting him to understand how much he meant to her.

As she lifted her hands to rest on his face, his now familiar stubble prickling her fingertips, Jemma wanted to kick herself. How had she missed this? How had she missed the wonder that was right in front of her: her best friend in the entire world, someone who would've done anything for her long before she'd found herself stranded on the other side of the universe? For a certified genius with two PhDs, Jemma couldn't believe her own stupidity. Everything about kissing Fitz - the way his hands sent pools of warmth through her stomach, the way he smelled faintly of soap and the sea and tasted like the chamomile she'd made earlier, the way he fit with her seamlessly, an extension of her own body in the way his mind was an extension of her own mind, the way he sighed against her in contentment - everything, absolutely everything about it, was perfect.

She still had a hard time believing it was all real.

Jemma tried to pour all of the words she couldn't find, all of the feelings threatening to explode within her, everything that had been bottled up for the past twelve years, into that one simple kiss. It wouldn't be enough. It would never be enough. But it was a start.

It was still much too soon when she pulled away, so she kept one hand resting lightly on his collarbone as she took in his reaction. For his part, Fitz appeared to be in a daze.

"What was that for?" he asked breathlessly, the edges of his lips curling upward into a surprised smile.

Jemma played with the neckline of his tee shirt, but she didn't drop her gaze from his. "Sometimes I'm not sure you realize…" Her voice faded, nearly overcome by the strange butterflies in her stomach.

"Realize what?" Fitz whispered, an echo of the question she'd asked earlier.

"How much I love you."

The words took Jemma by surprise almost as much as they did Fitz, despite the fact that they'd tumbled out of her own mouth. It was quite a strange moment for her, to become aware of something so acutely and suddenly that her mind hadn't had time to catch up with it before the words had been spoken. And it wasn't like it was the first time either of them had said it too. "Those three little words," as Bobbi had called them. They'd come out plenty of times over the years: in half-asleep whispers when one of them had picked up the slack in the lab, in exuberant joy when one of them had had a stroke of particularly noteworthy genius, in kisses on cheeks and Christmas dinners and days in which the world felt like it was ending. The words had been used sparingly, yes, but this was hardly new territory for them.

And yet, it was definitely new territory.

Fitz seemed to find his voice after a moment. She could feel the strain in his muscles underneath her fingertips, like he was trying very hard to sit still. She couldn't look him in the eye anymore.

"Jemma –"

But now that the words were out, she needed him to understand. "No, Fitz, I know I'm not always the best at showing you how I feel," she sighed, becoming increasingly frustrated with the entire situation. "All right? We both know you've always been much better at that sort of thing."

"What on earth are you talking about, Jemma?" He sounded nervous, worried almost, but that didn't make any sense. Regardless, Jemma still kept her gaze dutifully on the thread of cotton her fingers were playing with.

She scoffed bitterly. "Well, it's not like I've jumped through any holes in the universe for you or anything –"

"No, you just dragged my useless arse up ninety feet of water on the off chance that I would survive."

Jemma's fingers paused on his shoulder. When she glanced up, she inhaled sharply, surprised to see Fitz looking at her with a fierce intensity she didn't understand.

"But…that's not –"

Fitz wasn't done, though. "And there was also that one time you went and infiltrated the enemy just so I could get off that same useless arse and get better on my own."

Now he really wasn't making any sense. Jemma felt her brow furrow together, shaking her head in confusion. "But –"

"And I mean I know I said I'd never bring it up again," he continued. There was a distinct smirk on his face as he turned his head to speak to an invisible audience. "But I'm pretty sure jumping off an airplane without a parachute on constitutes as a grand gesture –"

Despite the absurdity of the moment, Jemma started laughing. "Fitz – "

"And who could forget the grenade incident on the train? I mean, that right there –"

"Fitz!"

Fitz paused in his ramblings, looking back at her with a quiet smile. "Look, Jemma," he said softly. "You know all that stuff doesn't matter, all right? You've got nothing to prove to me. Don't ever think that for a second."

Jemma could see in his eyes that he meant what he said, which was a bit of a comfort, she supposed. Even if she herself didn't quite believe it. There was something else nagging at her, though.

"It's not that, it's just…" She sighed again, a mixture of frustration and grief. She was getting choked up now, much to her embarrassment. "We could've had…we could've had so much more time."

Fitz reached up to his right shoulder, grabbing onto the hand she'd rested there. "I wouldn't change a day of it, though," he told her. And then, a beat later, he dropped his own gaze. "For us, I mean."

She knew what he meant all too well. They both had their fair share of things they wished they could change, and Jemma knew Fitz carried the burden of his regrets as much as she did, if not more so. She knew that as someone who dealt in numbers and scenarios and the physics of the world, he was often tormented by things he could've done: to save Trip, to stop Quinn from shooting Daisy, to keep her from leaving, to bring back Bobbi and Hunter, to find another way for Lincoln. She knew there were also things from his past, things she didn't even know the full extent of, that haunted him.

So she was more than a little surprised by his declaration.

"You really wouldn't?"

Fitz seemed to think on it for a moment. "Well…just one, I suppose."

"The day I went to HYDRA?"

"No…" He'd brought their hands down from his shoulder to rest in the space between them. Jemma thought she saw a flicker of shame or fear in his eyes, but he'd looked away before she could decipher it. "I know I didn't understand at the time, and Lord knows I treated you horribly for it. But it was something you needed to do. For me and for you." And just like that, the strange tone was gone, replaced by that maddening smirk instead. "Now, out of all the places in the world, would I have picked a HYDRA lab as your getaway destination? No, you're right, I probably wouldn't."

He'd given her an out, an opportunity to change the subject (or at least the heaviness of the conversation), but Jemma didn't take it. She was much too curious now. "Which day then?"

"Hmm?"

"Which day would you change?"

This time, he let her see the pain in his eyes. "The day I lost you."

He'd told her that once before, back in an old castle surrounded by enemies in a war they'd never meant to be a part of. She hadn't had the strength to contradict him then, not when it could've been their last moment together. Now she did.

"You didn't lose me, Fitz."

He'd gone back to tracing patterns on her hand. "Sometimes I think about…about how if I'd stayed for just a minute longer." Jemma was alarmed to hear tears in his voice. "If I'd made sure you got out of that room before I walked away, or made you come and eat, or…I don't know. Something. Then you wouldn't have…you wouldn't have had to…"

"I'm here now, Fitz," Jemma said in a surprisingly clear voice. She mustered up a smile, because despite its simplicity that fact alone was nothing short of a miracle. "And as mad as it sounds, I'm stronger for it." She nudged his arm with hers. "We both are."

He glanced up at her again. "I'm sorry anyway."

She knew he didn't just mean for that fateful day. So she responded in kind.

"Me too."

They simply smiled at each other for a long moment, content to let the words fall away. They rarely needed them in the first place. Daisy often referred to it as their psychic link, and though Jemma knew better, she also didn't know how to fully describe it. They'd had so many issues with miscommunication over the past few years, and they still had a lot of talking to do to make up for it. But it was in those moments, the ones where they were so in tune that they practically finished each other's thoughts, the ones where Fitz looked at her like she was the only thing in the room, that Jemma knew they'd be okay.

It'd hardly been a shocking conversation, and yet Jemma felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. She supposed she'd always be worried about Fitz doubting her feelings. But that was the nature of relationships, wasn't it? She'd rather do everything in her power to show him how much she cared for him than to take him for granted, even for a moment.

Jemma had decided long ago, dying on a rock in the middle of a desert wasteland with nothing but a mobile to keep her company, that she would never take Fitz for granted again.

Eventually she went to resume the movie, leaning back against Fitz. She could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt, and it wasn't long until her pulse slowed to match his.

"It's weird, isn't it?" she murmured after Ursula had been impaled. "To think how much of our lives we've spent together? Can you imagine if we'd started dating ten years ago?"

Fitz snorted. "Nah, I probably would've turned you down, actually," he said, reaching over to grab his bottle of water off the nightstand. "I was a bit oblivious back then, if you can believe it."

Jemma looked up at him so quickly that she felt the small sunburn on her leg flare up in protest.

"Are you being serious?" she asked in disbelief. "So you're saying that if I'd jumped your bones at the Academy, you would've pushed me away?"

Fitz actually choked on his water. "Bloody hell, Jemma," he coughed. "I said I was oblivious, not completely mental."

Jemma couldn't help but laugh at his bewildered face, and soon she was kissing him again. (She wasn't quite sure how they'd made the transition from laughing to kissing, only that she didn't mind in the slightest.) Somewhere in the distance, the end credits of The Little Mermaid were rolling. After a few minutes of quiet, she felt Fitz's eyes fly open.

"Hey!" He leaned back a little, and Jemma could tell he was just now remembering the words that had started their whole conversation. With shortness of breath – not entirely from kissing, she supposed – he brought a hand up to lightly caress her cheekbone. "You know that I –"

Jemma pressed her lips to his once more. He didn't need to say it, not when he'd shown her time and time again.

"I know, Fitz."

And she did.

A/N: This is the first time I've ever written a kissing scene, or canon FitzSimmons for that matter, so I apologize if it was a bit weird. Thank you for taking the time to read, though - I know it's been a while since I've written anything. :)

A/N: Below is the track listing for the story's soundtrack, which can be found on 8tracks under the username msdevindanielle. These are just a collection of songs I was inspired by while writing this. Enjoy!

1. Let's Disappear - The Boxer Rebellion

2. I Know Places - Vance Joy

3. Island in the Sun - Daniela Andrade & Sarah Lee

4. Little Do You Know - Alex & Sierra

5. Hazy (feat. William Fitzsimmons) - Rosi Golan

6. Army - Ellie Goulding

7. Afterlife - Ingrid Michaelson

8. Where Do You Run - The Score

9. Golden - Scars On 45

10. Part of Your World - Sara Wee

11. Lean On - Lennon & Maisy

12. I Found - Amber Run

13. Home - Gabrielle Aplin

14. Can't Help Falling in Love - Haley Reinhart

15. I Love You Always Forever - Betty Who

Much love,

MsDevinDanielle