The Wedding Date Part Two
Prompt Fifteen: The wedding date part two
A huge weight lifted off Jemma’s chest now that Fitz had warmed up. She would crumble throughout the weekend if he remained his silent and brooding self. She led the way down to tea, picking up her mother’s cat on the way. When they reached the courtyard, her once peaceful backyard was complete disarray, with crews setting up tents and tables and decorations. She set the cat down, where he followed Jemma at her heels.
Jemma’s father was already at the table with her mother. They were talking softly to each other. Jemma’s father was softer spoken then her mother, but he was enthusiastic about Jemma’s endeavors and shared Jemma’s passion for learning. He was the one to introduce her to science; the telescope was probably stored away.
“Dad!” Jemma cheerily exclaimed. She skipped the rest of the way to her father, who pulled her into a large, feet lifting off the ground hug. He filled the noisy air with a hearty laugh. He was a rather large man, and for a flash Fitz imagined Jemma as a child. After Jemma and her father separated, Jemma introduced Fitz again, the same way she had done with her mother. Her father made the same kind of remark, saying he wouldn’t have forgotten Fitz and he was glad they were still friends. That last statement rang a little too true for Jemma. They didn’t know she what had happened. Fitz recalled Coulson weighing the options on what to say to her parents throughout the six months she was missing.
Fitz shook the thought away and extended a firm handshake to her father.
“So, how’s work, Dad?” Jemma said sitting down, her voice coming down in excitement.
“Business, oh, business, bollocks Jem, America has certainly made a businesswoman out of you,” her father chuckled. Europeans generally didn’t start conversation with business talk. Jemma’s father was the only person to call her Jem, apart from Fitz, that is.
“Well, as it would happen, business is good,” Jemma lied, she figured getting the talk about work early out of the way would make it easier not to mess up any information.
“Quite a set up Alexandra is having for the ceremony,” Jemma remarked, changing conversation on behest of seeing a rather gaudy centerpiece being brought down to the tent.
Jemma didn’t get along with all her cousins, she wanted to pin it on the fact she was away for their teenage years, but even during their childhoods they didn’t get along. They thought her weird and she thought them boring. But there were more of them, and Jemma was often more or less a joke to them. She recalled hearing about all their typical British growing up stories, taking trips down to Monaco, shopping sprees in London, going to a chop shop after a night of heavy drinking, Jemma wished she had been invited to these rite of passage things, but alas, she was not their friend and she was not in England.
“Well, you know Alexandra’s fiancé is a barrister, he’s aiming for Parliament,” Jemma’s mother, the gossiper said.
Jemma turned away to roll her eyes, but she ended turning to Fitz’ direction where he caught her typical sarcasm.
“And Dr. Fitz, how’s your work, I believe Jemma had said that you were still in science?” Regina gabbed away.
“Still in science? Maybe you could put your fancy degrees to work Jemma and see if his company has any open positions,” Jemma’s father interjected before Fitz could say a word.
Fitz’ jaw hung open in the air. Her parents were very nice, but they didn’t realize how hard they were at times. Jemma looked out over the sprawling grounds. And the silliest thing was that she was ‘in science,’ as her parents had phrased it.
“I’m quite happy where I am, thanks,” her voice was monotone. She was upset with her parents now, but she always masked it. Fitz had heard her take this tone on nearly every phone call with them. He couldn’t see her face, but he imagined she was biting her lip fervently.
The tea was brought to the table, to which conversation subdued.
“So you mentioned after the wedding you’re driving up to Scotland, visiting your parents, Leopold?” Regina said before taking a sip of her tea.
“Oh yeah, just my Mum, though,” Fitz replied. He was going to add the bit about Perthshire but wasn’t sure what Jemma told her parents.
Jemma’s father received a phone call. He excused himself to take it. Jemma thought it was very unlike him to answer a call during tea. He wasn’t back when they finished. Jemma excused herself from the table. Fitz followed along, not yet ready to be alone with her mom and the barrage of questions that would surely attack him. This time, Jemma was the quiet one, obviously affected by the way her parents pushed and prodded at her. She disappeared with a change of clothes to the bathroom, and Fitz could hear a bath being drawn. He didn’t stay in the room the whole time, but instead went to walk the grounds, clear his head and revel in the air on this side of the ocean.
Jemma was in the bathroom a long time, falling in to a bit of a nap while taking a bubble bath. It must have just been the long day. When she finished, Fitz was nowhere to be seen, so she curled up on her bed in a towel and fell asleep. She was awoken by a knock on the door saying dinner was ready.
“I’ll be down in five,” she grumbled, not moving.
A minute later the door opened, and Jemma was about to defend her first statement that she was coming down, but was stopped by an apologetic Fitz, who thought he woke her.
“It’s fine,” she said, slipping off the bed. She pulled her hair in to a ponytail and went into the bathroom where she left her change of clothes. She appeared a minute later, where Fitz sat on the bed waiting for her.
“Are you all right?”
Jemma watched him with a guarded front. She grimaced.
“Yeah, I just wish whatever time I get to have with my parents that they wouldn’t say things that make me feel like they are in disappointed in me. It’s… nothing.”
They went down to dinner together and went to bed early. The wedding was the next day. They fell asleep on Jemma’s bed, facing opposite directions with the television still on.
The next day started with chaos. Set up for the wedding was in full swing, and Jemma was late getting up. She hadn’t known her mother had hired a hair stylist and makeup artist to come to the house. When she awoke, Fitz had already left to do whatever. She didn’t see him at all. Jemma had been busy getting ready all day and helping her mother not loose her mind.
It wasn’t until the ceremony, when Jemma and Fitz met back up. Jemma was already exhausted from all the running around, and rested her head on Fitz’ shoulder while they waited for the ceremony to start. She hadn’t realized she had placed her head there, it was just second nature. His cologne smelled so good. When Fitz glanced over his shoulder he could see she had her eyes close, she looked like she was murmuring to herself.
Pretty soon, the wedding music flared, and it was time to watch the outrageously long bridal party sashay down the aisle. The women, both friends and family of the bride, wore heinous looking gowns. There was too much fabric and sequins. And the men were decked out in no better. Their suits were a shade of pink that should have never seen the light of day, and they were all too large.
Jemma wish she could have those thoughts about the bride where you stop and think how beautiful they look, but her cousin Alexandra, while being a very naturally beautiful person, was fairly unrecognizable with the overly dramatic make up, the big hair, and even bigger loud dress.
“I couldn’t be caught dead in a dress like that,” Jemma whispered to Fitz, leaning into him. He had to put a hand over his mouth to stop his laughter.
The ceremony was every bit lavish and extreme as Jemma had guessed it would be. She was at least excited for the reception, which would mean lots of drinking. These people were at least partiers, and she knew she needed fun. Fitz could use fun, too.
When they got to their assigned seats under the tent, Jemma noticed she was sat at the table with all of her other cousins; the ones who weren’t in the wedding party, but still weren’t very friendly to her. This made her nervous, and before she even ate a breadstick, she had polished off a glass of wine.
“So Jemma, this is your date? What’s his name?” one of Jemma’s cousins asked. Her name was Mariah and her boyfriend looked like he had just spent three days on London’s tube meandering around.
“This is Fitz,” Jemma said, her hands clinging to his arm. Fitz shifted a bit, uneasy with the amount of touching. He could tell there was some bad blood between Jemma and her cousins.
“Thank you for dressing up and not looking like her slob of a boyfriend,” Jemma turned and whispered into his ear. Her nose brushed up against his ear ever so slightly. He was beginning to get real uncomfortable.
“Anyone want a drink… Jemma?” Fitz said, getting up suddenly. Jemma had to use the side of the table to steady herself from his departure. She accepted his offer.
Jemma had to endure their demeaning chatter for some time waiting for Fitz to get back. They would ask her a question about what she was up to and then put down her accomplishment immediately after. They talked about her love of science like it was loving a dirty diaper.
“So your Mum had told us you were on a business trip for six months and didn’t even call. They thought you were dead, how could you have done that to your parents,” one of the cousins said, it didn’t matter who said it, just that it was said.
Fitz had pulled up to the table just in time with a drink for Jemma and himself.
“Fitz, you want to dance?” Jemma wrapped her fingers around the glass. She was already standing up, as Fitz was about to sit down. The stern look on Jemma’s face told him if he didn’t comply she would not be pleasant to sit next to. He took her hand and led her away.
Fitz couldn’t dance anymore then Jemma could, but s she sipped her drink furiously, due to nerves, he did his best not to look like a complete joke. They spent most of the night doing this, when not eating they would b up on the dance floor. Jemma would cling to him during the slow songs, and he could feel her sigh into his chest. When the wedding finally wrapped up, Jemma didn’t want to go back up to the house just yet. She snatched a bottle of wine from the bar and two glasses, and slipping off her heels she led Fitz down a path further on the property. She could make out the pathway just by the moonlight, and came to a small pond, which Fitz had seen earlier in the day as he walked around.
Jemma planted herself on the cool grass right by the waters edge. By the waters edge was a hammock, and Jemma fell onto it, being very careful with the bottle and glasses. She lay on the hammock so only her back was against the cradle, and her feet were planted on the ground. Fitz joined next to her and she handed him one of the glasses of wine. They sat in silence for a considerable amount of time, staring up at the stars.
“You looked very beautiful tonight,” Fitz’ voice cut into the air.
“Thank you,” her voice no louder then a rumble.
“How come you let your family push you around so much?” he continued. Jemma shifted on the hammock. She set her empty glass in the grass next to the bottle and turned to look at Fitz.
“I suppose I don’t want them to know that they hurt me when they say those things,” she said calculating her words.
“But you should let people know if you’re upset,” he was still looking up at the stars.
“I should have done that ten years ago then,” she sighed.
Fitz reached for her hand and grasped it. It was another night of spontaneously falling asleep side by side.
Jemma awoke first, she always woke up early after nights of heavy drinking. At least she didn’t wake up with a hangover. At some point in the night she nestled snuggly into Fitz’ side, her head tucked under his arm, breathing in the delightful scent of his cologne. She had curled her legs in and was nearly swallowed by the hammock but she was overall comfortable. One of her arms was tucked by her face, and the other was resting on his side. The sky was still dark but there was a strain of light peeking out just over the pond.
Jemma wanted to get up, but she knew it would wake Fitz. There was no way not to, his arm was underneath her head and his other hand was… was… was on her waist, like he had subconsciously pulled her in close over the night. Jemma felt guilty enjoying it, because she knew if Fitz had wakened before her he would have recoiled his hand so fast. They both knew this kind of closeness could be a reality for them both, if only things were different.
She knew she had to wake up Fitz. They had a four and a half hour drive in front of them. Jemma shifted gently, removing her hand from his waist and carefully moving his hand on her waist across his stomach. She inched herself away from his body as delicately as she could, having trouble balancing on the hammock. When she was far enough to not look conspicuous, she laid a hand on his bicep and shook gently.
“Hey, Fitz,” she spoke softly into the early morning.
“Humph,” he mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing.
She repeated.
He popped open an eye and scanned his surroundings till he fell on her. When he realized she was staring he brought both of his hands to his face to rub the sleep away.
“Morning,” he grumbled, barely audible.
“We have to get going soon,” she said sadly.
Fitz stretched, they orchestrated a way to get off the hammock. Jemma collected her shoes, and sleepily they headed back up the long winding path to the house.