In the course of his career as a spy, Grant had been in some pretty bad positions. Most of them had involved gunfire, though once or twice they had also involved rusty pliers stuck up his nostrils (and other places on his body). Like several parts of his childhood, he had successfully managed to repress a hefty percentage of that (Other than that time with the Berserker Staff. That was just…stupid).

Still, he was quite sure that none of those situations topped the one he was currently facing.

"I'm sorry, are you saying what I think you're saying?" Jemma's voice had risen to that shrill pitch that only occurred when she was really distressed, usually because she was about to be threatened with certain death. Or when she was about to inflict certain death with some science-y weapon she'd created.

To May's credit, she had the grace to look embarrassed, which was really something to behold. Aside from a few private and intimate moments Grant would rather keep private and intimate, the woman never lost her composure. Never.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." May said, not too subtly seeking an escape strategy as she began to back towards the cockpit – the cockpit where the door locked behind her.

Deciding it was time for him to do something, Grant placed his arm around Jemma's shoulders. As soothingly as he could, he said, "Babe, don't worry about it, it's not like May and I were in a relationship or anything."

His girlfriend whipped around, pulling out of his embrace. Seeing the expression on her face, the secret agent trained in several languages, and who knew how to kill a man using only a rubber band realized he had made a huge tactical mistake. The glare May shot him only served to enforce the fact that he was Dead Agent Walking.

"Upset? Worried?" Jemma laughed in a distinctly unnatural fashion, her hands frantically brushing hair out of her face. "Why would I be either of those emotions? That would just be unreasonably silly don't you think? And childish. Yes! Childish! There I said it. And am I a child? No, definitely not. People have sex. It's normal. Sex is normal. I used to have sex with other people too! I mean not that sex has to mean anything, just because someone sees another person naked, and at their most vulnerable!"

Just as Grant was about to make sure his girlfriend took a breath, in case she started suffocating from a lack of oxygen, Coulson chose that moment to stroll into the lounge.

"What's going on? Simmons, I could hear you from my office." Despite addressing Jemma, Coulson stared accusingly at Ward, who stoically refused to flinch. It almost worked. "Also, you keep saying "sex"."

"Did you know May and Grant used to have sex, although it didn't mean anything? Also, interesting fact, they weren't actually in a relationship." Jemma did that laugh thing again. "I'm ok with it. Because I'm an adult."

"If anyone needs me, I will be flying this plane into a mountain." May said darkly, and left the room.

"Well that about summarizes the situation." Grant said, and wondered to himself if his humour was getting dry because he was shagging a British bird. Then he wondered about that entire sentence he just thought.

"Uh…" Coulson's face turned scarlet. His hands dug into his pants pocket, and it seemed like he suddenly had no idea where to look.

"I'm going to go back to the lab now. This was a fun break from my research." Jemma said, shaking her head. "Maybe Fitz and I can have sex without a relationship on my next break."

"I have a problem with that statement," Grant called out after her as she hurried away. "I'm serious. Do not have sex with Fitz."

"You need to fix this." Coulson observed.

"I know sir, I apologize. This was unprofessional, and…" Grant started.

"No you need to fix that thing you do where you don't talk about stuff." Coulson turned back towards his office. "It just makes things way more awkward later. Like they are right now."

Grant sighed, and turned to pour himself a stiff drink, before thinking better of it. After all, it was still morning.

He had a whole day ahead of him.

Working out as a stress relieving method wasn't as helpful as Grant had imagined it would be. Toweling himself off, the secret agent sighed loudly, and realized that he really didn't have a choice on how he could solve this potentially deadly problem. There was no other way out of this incredibly dangerous situation he had put himself in. Also, knowing that Jemma was currently alone in the lab with Fitz wasn't exactly helping his stress levels. It wasn't like he didn't know how Fitz felt about his girlfriend.

Throwing his towel into the gym hamper (he sometimes wondered if the S.H.I.E.L.D janitors who cleaned the plane whenever the team was parked at HQ were like, super-secret-highly-trained-in-obscure-martial-arts janitors), Grant stalked silently towards the glass enclosed room in the hangar, trying to figure out what it was he would say to Jemma, exactly.

As he entered the cool compartment, he heard rather than saw Jemma first. Mostly from the way she was slamming things down on the lab counter.

"I don't care what sort of lover's tiff the two of you are having, but could you bloody stop destroying all our equipment?" Fitz shrieked a little desperately, flitting around like an oversized moth.

"I'm not destroying anything." Jemma said through gritted teeth.

"Jemma please!"

Ward's eyes narrowed as he watched Fitz grab Jemma's hands. Granted, it was to prevent her from throwing down a tray of test tubes with red labels pasted all over them, proclaiming things like "Highly Infectious Disease – HANDLE WITH CARE!" and "SKIN WILL MELT COMPLETELY OFF IF TOUCHED!". One of them just said "!".

Trust a couple of nerds to label stuff.

"Jemma, could I please have a second?" Grant asked loudly, crossing his arms. Maybe it was petty, but it was gratifying to see Fitz jump backwards like a scared grasshopper. He tried not to smirk.

"Fitz, do not leave." Jemma commanded, setting the test tubes down with an ominous rattle. Everyone winced.

"Fitz, get the fuck out of here, " Grant paused, and added, "Please."

Fitz rolled his eyes and said, "As neither of you are the boss of me, I will do what I damn well please."

Grant and Jemma both looked hard at the Scotsman for a long few seconds. With a long suffering sigh, Fitz trudged in the direction of the lab exit, making sure to bump into the larger man for good measure. Once he was gone, Grant relaxed his stance and approached Jemma carefully.

"Hi," he said at last, when it became painfully clear that she was going to pretend he wasn't in the room.

"Go away." She snapped, beginning to write into her notebook.

"No, I'm not going away." He responded patiently.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, a petulant note creeping into her voice, still refusing to look up. Grant didn't bother telling her to stop pretending as if she were working – she was obviously doodling a picture of a cat on the lined paper. It was a terrible sketch; Jemma was a terrible artist.

Sucking in a huge breath, Grant replied in complete honesty and with more than a little terror, "It wasn't really any of your business, I guess."

Jemma's eyes flew to his face, looking more surprised than hurt.

"What happened between May and I was in the past, and that's where it's gonna stay." He continued. "I didn't think it was relevant. To us anyway, as a couple. So I didn't talk about it."

Jemma's expression grew thoughtful.

"I can't stop thinking about you when I'm not with you. Lately I feel like I'm going nuts whenever I'm away from you for more than a day." Grant said sheepishly, running his fingers through his hair. "I thought I should tell you. I really hope we can move past this."

Jemma didn't answer immediately, but after a second, she reached over and touched his hand, murmuring, "Me too."

"I'll be honest, I did maybe have a some feelings for May," he tightened his grip on the scientist's hand, preventing Jemma from pulling away when she would have. "But she didn't want a relationship with me, and it was hard for me to really think about her after a while when frankly, I was really, really attracted to you."

"You were?" the scientist asked, looking surprised.

"Yeah. I mean. The whole time you were feeling up that Mike dude – and don't pretend you weren't – I was jealous as all hell." He grinned, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair away from Jemma's face. "I thought to myself, 'hey, if she's feeling up any muscular dude, it should be this muscular dude right here. I mean, I jumped out a plane for her.' "

"Mike?" she suddenly looked a little dreamy. "Yes, I remember that day. Shame Agent Coulson got kidnapped and all that, but that was a nice day. Right before the fire and the death."

"Jemma, I'm actually talking about my feelings here." Grant said. "Also, I got shot that day. Thanks."

"Perhaps I overreacted earlier." Jemma said, pulling him closer.

"Just maybe," he agreed, leaning down for a kiss.

Her lips were soft against his, and welcoming.

"Did I ever tell you that Fitz and I were actually sort of a couple back in uni?" Simmons asked a second after he pulled away.

Grant simply looked at her, trying to gather his thoughts.

"You're just trying to get back at me." He said.

"I almost wish I weren't serious." Jemma giggled in a way that frankly, he found inappropriate. "We broke up after two months. We just didn't talk enough, even though we spent all our time together."

The secret agent tried not to let his brain explode.

"Jemma…"

"I thought since we were recounting our histories, I'd tell you!" the young woman protested.

Grant sighed loudly and counted to ten, before he leaned down to kiss her again. All while trying not to figure out how he could kill Fitz without anyone noticing he was the one who had done it.