Three months later...

Jemma bolts upright with a start. Flinging back the covers, she almost falls out of bed in her haste to get up, ignoring Fitz as he yelps and then flails, disorientated at the rude awakening.

"Jemma, what-"

"-Get up! Coulson's going to kill us!" She cries, continuing to bang about in the dark. Why isn't Fitz moving? And where has the light-switch gone? Her heart's racing. They're never late. They don't do late, and why can't she find her clothes?

Fitz sits up, momentarily fighting with the covers, and glances at the alarm clock. "Jemma?" Fitz's voice is a mixture of soft and sleepy, with a dash of trademark grumpiness, and she doesn't understand why he's being so infuriatingly slow.

"No, we're late!"

"Jemma!" Fitz is suddenly right in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, holding her in place, and she stares at him as if he's suddenly grown an extra head. "Hi. Calm down."

"What?" she replies, a little breathlessly. "No, we're late..." What's he doing?

"Jem, it's just after two a.m. Come back to bed, you're half asleep." He palms her cheek, his thumb stroking across her skin.

Jemma blinks at him, once, twice, three times, his face just barely visible in the darkness, and then she shakes her head a little, a frown knitting her face together. "Fitz?"

He raises his eyebrows at her. "Were you expecting someone else?" Then he yawns and pulls her closer, mumbling into her hair. "You're warm."

She smiles. "Sorry, I must have been dreaming, still."

"Y'dream about being late? What am I sayin' - course you do. Come on."

They crawl back into bed and cuddle together, but suddenly Jemma is wide awake. She chews on her lip for a moment before smiling wickedly and propping herself up on one elbow. "Fiiiitz," she sing-songs, walking her fingers across his shoulder and down along his clavicle. She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth... And gets a soft snore in response.

Jemma rolls her eyes and sinks back down into the mattress.

So much for that idea.

xxxx

"Hey, Fitz... Fitz! I think I've got it."

Fitz straightens from his bent-over position at the lab table, and sighs. He puts down his soldering iron, takes off his goggles, and rolls his head towards Skye, who is looking at him like a child at Christmas. "Skye, please..."

Jemma watches him from across the room, the hand she has wrapped around a pipette paused in mid-air. She knows what's coming.

"Oh, come on, I've really got you down, this time, I promise. Ready?"

Fitz waves a hand at her. As if he has any choice - she's been doing this for almost a week.

Skye clears her throat theatrically. "Okay. 'Aye, ye dinnae-' Oh, what? I'd barely started!" she protests, as Fitz again extends his hand, but this time to stop her.

"No," he says, firmly, turning away and going back to his work.

"But ye cannae say tha' weren't-"

"-Oh, my god, Skye, stop," Jemma interrupts, laughing as she moves towards her.

Skye huffs. "But it's not fair! Why is his American so good, yet I can't do a stupid Scottish accent?" she complains, pouting.

Fitz turns back to her, thoroughly insulted. "Excuse me - stupid? And I thought you said you were tryin' to do me? When have you ever heard me speak like that? Y'do realise that not all Scottish people have the same dialect? I'm not Rab C. Nesbitt."

Skye wrinkles her nose. "Who's Rab C. Nesbitt?"

"Ugh, forget it." Fitz rolls his eyes.

"All right, Sir Grumps-A-Lot." She turns her attention to Jemma. "What's up with you? You look beat. Oh, no, wait - I probably don't want to know, do I?"

Jemma goes back to her table. "I couldn't sleep, that's all."

"Is that what all the cool kids are callin' it?"

Fitz smirks. "She was actin' out her dreams."

"Yeah, okay, I'm gonna go, now."

"No!" Jemma tuts impatiently. "I thought we were late for work - I got up, started trying to get dressed, and then Fitz pulled me out of it. It happens, sometimes. Well, rarely, but it happens. Once I was convinced there was a bird in my room, and my mum came running in to find me waving my arms about, trying to 'catch' it."

Skye sniggers. "No way."

"Yep."

"Well, I guess that's more entertaining than sleep-walking."

"A pain in the arse, is what it is," Fitz chimes in, picking up a file.

"Oh, what are you complaining for - you fell straight back asleep. I was the one left tossing and turning. If you..." she trails off, not wanting to finish that sentence in front of Skye.

The hacker takes the hint and turns to leave. "I think I'm gonna go find Lance."

"Ooh, Lance..." Fitz trills, complete with faux-swoon for added effect.

"We're not... Shut up." Skye blushes, and leaves the room far quicker than she'd entered it.

Fitz chuckles to himself, and is about to open the file he'd retrieved when Jemma decides to sneak up behind him and wrap her arms around his middle.

He drops the file onto the table, attention refocused on her. "Ah, yes - what were you saying?"

Jemma turns her head and presses her cheek against his back, basking in the warmth of him for a moment. "If you hadn't fallen asleep - I was trying to get your attention..." She runs her fingers up and down his forearm, nonchalantly. "You could have helped wear me out..."

Fitz turns in her arms and looks down at her with a frown. "Well, that I would have stayed awake for. Y'just didn't try hard enough, clearly..."

Jemma's mouth falls open, and she's about to chide him before she recognises the look on his face. "Oh, haha." She steps away from him, but he catches her hand.

"I'll make it up to you tonight."

"I'll hold you to that."

He grins, and winks at her. "I very much hope so." He swoops down and gives her quick kiss.

"Fitz!" Jemma realises, of course, that she's completely failed to sound the least bit admonishing.

"What? No one saw."

They both jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and swing towards the doors in perfect symmetry.

"Um, I did."

"Trip!"

"You're back!" Fitz starts towards him, slapping Trip on the arm as the bigger man catches him round the shoulders.

"Hey, man. How you both doin'?"

"Good. Great. Brilliant. Marvellous, actually," Jemma gushes.

"Any more adjectives you want to throw in there?" Fitz teases, his eyes twinkling humorously.

Jemma can feel herself turning pink. "Anyway," she says, composing herself, "has Coulson sent you in here for your fitting-"

"- or did you just really miss us?"

Trip shrugs. "A little from column A..."

Their eyes are trained on the specialist as they wait for him to finish his sentence, until the pause lasts a little too long. Fitz breaks first.

"Ah, funny."

A wide, pearly-toothed grin stretches across Trip's face as he chuckles deeply.

Jemma shakes her head and throws an eye-roll at him. "I'll get the scanner."

xxxx

"Why do I feel like a teenager who's snuck out of her house in the middle of the night?"

"You mean you're afraid Coulson will catch us and send us back inside with slapped wrists?"

"Well, we're not really supposed to be out here on our own, and especially not after dark. And, of course, after last time..."

Fitz cups her face with both hands and stares at her earnestly. "We're not alone, we're with each other, and we're still within the compound."

"Just."

"View's far better from here."

Jemma relinquishes, and stares up at the sky. "It really is." She takes a breath, something else on the tip of her tongue, but she quickly lets it slip away like water down a drain.

"What?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

Fitz's eyes roam her face, and she finds that she can't look away.

"Doesn't look like nothin'. What's wrong?" He takes one of her hands in both of his and presses a kiss to it, patiently waiting for her to tell him what's on her mind.

Eventually, Jemma sighs and gives in. "Do you think we'll ever be able to go home? Just for a while, I mean. Like a holiday. My mum and dad will be worried sick. And your mum, she'll be beside herself... I just wish we could call them more than once a month, and for more than only a few minutes at a time."

"I know." He rubs his thumb across her fingers. "We will, y'know, see them again. This won't be forever."

"We don't know that, Fitz."

"Hey. You're s'posed to be the positive one, remember?"

"Hmm. Just like we'll officially 'exist' again someday."

Fitz slides his arm around Jemma's shoulders and holds her close, his lips finding the top of her head. "What's brought this on?"

Jemma buries her face into his neck. "I don't know. Being out here, I suppose. Looking up at the sky and the stars... It's easier to think about other things, out here. And... Oh, Fitz, I'm sorry. You brought me out here to stargaze, and instead of it being romantic I've just sucked all the joy out of it." She lifts her head to gaze into his eyes, as dark as the night sky, but she sees nothing there apart from concern and love.

"It doesn't matter - you can't help how you feel."

"We have each other," she whispers. "Despite everything else, we have each other." She kisses him, then, soft and slow and sweet, bathing in the warmth and comfort of him, like being wrapped in her favourite jumper (which was actually his jumper) whilst sipping hot chocolate, except it was much, much more than that.

Fitz brings her flush against him, then lays her back on the grass, his mouth hot and insistent as he deepens the kiss, and Jemma almost loses herself, until she remembers where they are.

"Fitz, the cameras... The last thing anyone wants to see is us rolling about in the grass."

"Rolling?" Fitz grabs her shoulders and then flips them over, and he grins devilishly. "Y' mean like that?"

She slaps his arm. "I mean it."

He laughs. "Okay, okay." He sits up, but before Jemma can move off of him, he captures her mouth again, and gives her such a bruising kiss that it leaves her breathless. "I guess we'd better hurry inside, then."

His voice rumbles low against her, and it's all Jemma can do not to just have her way with him there and then. She's pushes herself up onto unsteady legs, her body already buzzing with excited anticipation, and she takes his hand as they run inside, giggling and stopping for quick kisses in dark corners along the way.

As they pass the lab, Fitz pulls on Jemma's hand as he stops and gazes through the door. Then he turns to her with a mischievous smirk that almost has her coming undone.

"We can't," she breathes, trying hard to sound firm, but failing miserably.

Fitz backs her up against the door. "Sure about that?" He nibbles gently down her neck, and her eyes flutter closed as she angles her hips into him.

"Mmm... Wait!" She grabs the front of his shirt. "Actually, I... I think that would be quite exciting - but you know we can't."

"Yeah. Shame, though." He nuzzles her ear as he speaks, and then suddenly he's pulling her along the corridor again. They're just about to round a corner, when Fitz picks up her and spins her around, continuing forward as he does, and she lets out a squeal of delight, which soon turns into an "Oh!" of shock as they almost crash into Coulson and May.

Fitz quickly sets her down, and the both of them look at their seniors very much like children who've been caught sneaking biscuits before dinner.

"Er..." Fitz starts, all the eloquence he ever possessed flying out the window.

"We were just..."

Coulson stares at them with barely contained amusement. "What have I told you about running in the corridors?"

Jemma has to press her lips together to keep from laughing, and she knows Fitz is doing the same, as his hand tightens around hers. Nothing, he's said nothing, but they'll play along.

"Sorry, sir," Fitz says, his voice a little higher than normal, and he clears his throat.

May tries hard to hide a smile, but her eyes are shining with mirth.

Coulson nods, then steps aside so they can pass. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir," Jemma replies, and she's trying so hard not to laugh that it's a wonder she can still breathe. She lowers her head a little as she moves forward, Fitz hot on her heels, and they don't touch each other again until they're in Fitz's room, with the door locked behind them.

"Ooh, that was awkward."

Fitz flops backwards onto his bed with a chuckle, then holds his hand out. Jemma walks towards him with a knowing smile, and entwines her fingers with his, her pulse rising as he looks up at her with hungry eyes. Fitz pulls her down, and she tumbles on top of him with a small yelp, which is quickly smothered by his lips on hers. His hands find their way underneath her blouse, the warmth of them smoothing up her back making her shiver. She doesn't know if she'll ever get used to this, the feel of his hands on her, his tongue in her mouth, the hitch of his breath, and the way he says her name likes it's the most important thing he'll ever say in his life.

Fitz tugs at her blouse, and the next thirty seconds are a flurry of activity as clothes are shed and tossed to one side. They end up in the middle of the bed, on top of the covers, and as Fitz grips her hips as she moves above him, her mind goes blissfully blank, her ears filled only with his moans and her own, breathy sighs.

xxxx

As they lie in each other's arms, basking in the glow of their exertions, Fitz's thumb stroking lazily across her forehead, nearly pulling her into sleep, a memory comes to Jemma, one that she'd told Skye about not a lifetime ago, and she smiles to herself, one that quickly turns into a full-blown Cheshire Cat grin.

"What?" Fitz catches the movement of her lips out the corner of his eye, and cranes his neck to study her face.

Jemma turns onto her front, her fingers reaching out to draw patterns across his chest, his arm resting warmly around her shoulders. "I was just thinking about when we first met, how much you hated me, and now look at us."

"What?"

"Who'd have thought it? It's sort of like the plot of 'When Harry met Sally', only I've never faked an orgasm in a restaurant - I mean, it's not very civilised, is it?"

"Hang on," Fitz props himself up on one elbow in order to better look at her. "You thought I hated you?"

Jemma opens her mouth to speak, but all she succeeds in doing for a few seconds is opening and closing it like a fish. "I... Well, yes. Didn't you?" Hadn't he? "You never spoke to me, not until we were partnered up in chem lab - until then we were just rivals trying to outdo each other."

Fitz stares at her with a look of complete surprise. And confusion.

Jemma's confused, too.

"Jem... I didn't hate you. I..." he glances away from her, embarrassed. "I was tryin' to impress you. You thought I hated you? I made you think that?" He looks so upset, that Jemma wraps her arms around his neck and rests her head against his before he can turn it away from her.

He hadn't hated her. She's not quite sure how to process that after being convinced of it for so many years. "You were trying to impress me?" she smiles, a gentle warmth enveloping her, helping to quell the sadness she felt in the pit of her stomach at getting it so very wrong, even though it hadn't been unreasonable for her to think that - she hadn't known much about him at the time, after all.

"Yes." His eyes are cast down, but she knows he'll look at her when he's ready.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Fitz shrugs. "Dunno."

Jemma runs her hand up his arm and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Yes, you do. Come on, you can't be embarrassed to tell me, not after what we just did," she encourages, giving him a wink as he finally glances up at her.

He sighs. "You know I'm better at showing than telling."

Indeed, she very much does, and clearly it had been that way since the very beginning. "Touché."

Fitz picks up her free hand and starts to idly play with her fingers. "Okay." He takes a deep breath. "... I was intimidated by you."

Jemma tips her head away from his, perplexed for a moment, before admitting to herself that yes, she probably had been quite intimidating, especially to someone like Fitz, who wasn't the best when it came to being social, especially not back then, when they'd both been so young.

"You were super-smart and drop-dead gorgeous, and I didn't know what to say to you without sounding like a total creep. So instead, I spent months trying to think of something so outstandingly brilliant, that you'd sit up and notice me, and then when we were paired up, I was so excited, and also a little nauseous. Even then, it still took me a few days to think of something clever enough to say to you. But I did."

Jemma smiles softly, her eyes a little damp. "You did," she all but whispers. Then the first part of what he'd said echoes back to her. "You thought I was gorgeous?"

"Shut up," he smiles back at her, trying to repress it, but failing. "You know you are."

She ignores that, although yes, she's aware that she's not, as she'd told Skye, 'An ugly duckling'. "And you spent all that time trying to get me to notice you?"

"Yeah, well, I thought we'd get on, so-"

Jemma crushes her mouth to his, swallowing the rest of his words, and pushes him back down against the bed. "I'm sorry," she mumbles against him, one hand at his waist and the other in his hair.

"What for?" he pants, pulling back a little. "You weren't to know that what you interpreted as hostile was just me bein' shy and awkward."

"But if I'd spoken to you first-"

"-It doesn't matter, especially as I obviously didn't give off the impression of being very approachable."

She plays idly with his hair, wrapping a curl around a finger and then watching it spring back as she releases it. "Did you have a crush on me?" She's curious, that's all, especially because of how uncomfortable he'd just been. She holds his gaze, and the love in his eyes makes her heart feel as though it's skipping beats all over the place.

"A little, at first. I was mostly just awed by you and wanted to be your friend - I thought we complimented each other. And then, in the end, I fell in love with you, anyway. Inevitable, really. And I'm not sayin' any more, because you always joke about how I have a big head, but yours won't be able to fit through the door if I carry on."

Jemma grins. "Who said I was joking about yours?"

"Oh, oh, really. Just for that..." Fitz grabs her hips and flips her over, and she squeaks in surprise. He hovers over her with a mischievous glint in his eye, then attacks her mouth with renewed vigour until they're both gasping for breath.

"I love you, you ridiculous man."

"Enough to make me a sandwich? I'm pretty hungry, now."

Jemma slaps his shoulder, and he laughs and rolls away from her.

"Okay, okay!" He grabs her hands. "I love you, too. C'mere."

Bloody cheek. But she adores him all the more for his playfulness, for this side of him that she'd missed out on for so many years. "I did notice you," she says, as he slides a leg in-between hers. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have thought that you didn't like me."

Fitz presses his nose to hers. "And I still frequently try and think of ways to impress you."

"Yes, I realise that, now, but you don't need to - I was impressed a long time ago. You don't have to go all out to get my attention - it's not like I'm going to forget what you're capable of."

He graces her with a charming smile that quickly turns wolfish. "Well, just in case..." he breathes into her ear, his voice lowered by desire, and that slight growl, the deepening of his accent, causes her to arch up into him, and when his hand slips down across her hip, and long, inquisitive fingers dance across the top of her thigh, right towards where she needs them the most, she thinks that maybe, in instances such as these, she's not going to refuse his 'Just in case' way of thinking...

A/N: So, that's it! Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed.

I was initially going to post this chapter yesterday, but after finding out what we did, I decided to change the ending.

This final chapter is dedicated to notapepper, not just because she's awesome, but because she requested some 'hanky-panky', and who was I to refuse something like that? ;) I hope it met your requirements!

Rab C. Nesbitt is a fictional, comedic character - an alcoholic, work-shy Glaswegian. The show isn't on anymore, but I watched it growing up, and it was very funny.

As for Jemma's bizarre dream-state, that's actually based on me. It really does happen like that. Sometimes I wake up properly, other times I'm just guided back into bed, and I'm out again as soon as my head hits the pillow. It doesn't happen often, thankfully!