Once upon a time, Fitz didn't understand Valentine’s Day. It was an unnecessary holiday, in his opinion. Considering the true story of St. Valentine, the meaning of February 14th was ridiculous to him. Honestly, who wants to make out everywhere and stuff their face with sweets? (Okay, he likes that last part, but still.)
This year, though, was different by a long-shot. So much had happened and things changed, they changed. He and Jemma were… something. He really wasn't quite sure what they were, but they started getting closer after the temple nearly collapsed on all of them. They ended up spending a lot of time together fussing over Mack and Trip.
Today, he was going to ask. Nervousness be damned, he was going to have a date with Jemma. Fitz just had to figure out how to ask her.
Fitz looked in the mirror and took a deep breath, willing the overwhelming anxiety away. He fumbled with the door, managing to get it open after calming himself a bit more.
His stomach growled. He debated eating first. He was starving, but he might throw up trying to ask Jemma on a date. He debated this as he walked. That is, until the smell of pancakes reached him.
Yeah, I'll pick food.
He entered the kitchen to find the subject of his thoughts in front of the stove, humming to herself while flipping pancakes. He leaned to the side and noticed they were blueberry pancakes. His favorite.
He played with the idea that perhaps she wanted to make today special too, but pushed it aside when he noticed she was making enough pancakes to feed an army. It was just a nice gesture towards the team. That's all.
Pushing his disappointment aside, he grabbed a plate of pancakes and the maple syrup. He was poised to pour the whole bottle, when Jemma looked over and gave Fitz a glare.
“I hope you're not going to pour that entire container on your pancakes. Valentine’s Day or not, I will not encourage the development of diabetes.”
“Jemma,” Fitz whined.
“Absolutely not, Fitz. Besides, maybe the others will want to use some of the maple syrup. I’ll watch while you use it.”
“You're not my mum, Jemma. Ya don't have to make sure I eat all my, all my, uh, vegetables.”
“I wonder that sometimes. Honestly, Fitz, you're like the square root of a prime number,” she flipped a pancake, “Always irrational.”
Mostly when I'm around you.
He stared at her for a moment before snapping out of it and focusing on his pancakes. He squeezed a reasonable amount of maple syrup over them, gaining a nod of approval from Jemma, and sat down.
“So, why're up makin’, uh, pancakes? Usually I'm the one makin’ breakfast.”
He noticed her tense. Had he said something wrong? Had he managed to offend her by asking about pancakes?
“Oh, um, just, just wanted to surprise everyone with a nice breakfast. You know, for Valentine’s Day.” She dutifully hid her face.
Fitz didn't buy that lie for one second, but let it go. There was no reason to start an argument about why she's making pancakes, especially when they're his favorite kind. The others trickled in after some time, each grabbing a plate of food.
“Dang, girl, you know how to make some pancakes,” Trip beamed at her. Skye nodded through her mouthful of food.
Soon enough, they'd all gone off to their work, leaving only Fitz and Jemma once more.
“Just let me clean up and I'll meet you down in the lab.”
“Nuh uh, ya know the rules, Jem. Whoever cooks, doesn't clean. I'll clean up.” Fitz gathered up all the plates and took them to the sink.
“Fitz, why don't we just both clean up?”
He shrugged, handing her a plate. They worked in silence for a bit, awkward silence, and Fitz was starting to get twitchy. It hadn't felt like this for a long time. Maybe asking her on a date was a bad idea. His hands started to twitch enough that he dropped the plate he was holding into the sink. He cursed under his breath and reached to pick it back up, but Jemma stopped him.
“Are you alright, Fitz?”
“What? Yeah, yeah, I'm, uh, fine, just fine. What about you?”
“I'm alright. I'm perfectly fine. Energetic even.” She smiled.
He paused. Maybe he should ask now, before they get distracted with work or interrupted by others.
“Jemma--.”
“Fitz--.”
They both stopped, looked at each other for a moment, and started laughing. Fitz felt some of his tension dissolve. Jemma calmed down first and smiled at him.
“You go first, Fitz.”
“Uh, no,uh, you can go first.”
“Are we really going to play this game?”
“Fine, um, uh, I just wanted to, to, uh,” his hands shook, “What I'm trying to say is, uh, yeah.”
“Fitz,” she started, “You said absolutely nothing just now. Really, what's bothering you?”
How beautiful you are and how you're completely out of my league.
“Well, it's, um, it's Valentine’s Day and you, uh, said that, that you were, uh, thinking and I thought maybe, maybe we could,” he scratched his head and looked at her, hoping she'd finish his sentence.
“Could what?” There was a look in her eyes he couldn't quite decipher and that unnerved him.
“We could, uh, have food. I mean, not, food, I mean, I mean, dinner. Together. Tonight. Not that dinner is at any other time of the day or doesn't involve food, but I mean--.”
“Fitz,” she interrupted. “Are you,” she cleared her throat, “Asking me on a, a date?”
“I, uh, I guess, yeah.” A moment passed, “Shite, this was a bad idea, wasn't it? I'm uh, I'm sorry. Why would ya, would ya want to do that? I--.”
“I'd love to have dinner with you.”
“Really?” He grinned when she nodded. He gestured to her, “What were ya going to say?”
“Some terribly nerdy pick-ups line and hope you'd get the hint.” She blushed.
“Oh. Oh. Wow, we are just a, just a mess, aren't we?”
The rest of the day consisted of work and awkward glances at each other, blushing when they caught the other’s eye. Fitz did his best to plan everything out and not lose a finger in the process while he soldered a piece of machinery. It'd be perfect. It had to be.
Fitz told her he'd come by her room at 7 and began to make preparations for their date.
Holy shite, I'm going on a date with Jemma.
The thought knocked the breath out of him and also amused him. Seventeen-year-old Fitz would’ve looked at people funny if they'd told him he'd one day go on a date with his best friend. But, things had changed in the past decade, both good and bad. Maybe they could change too, for the better.
As 7 approached, Fitz gave up on trying to knot a tie and grabbed a small box from his dresser. He smoothed a thumb over it before shoving it into his pocket.
He left his room, heading for Jemma’s, and tried not to pass out. He took a few deep breaths before knocking lightly on her door.
A muffled, “Coming,” made it's way through the door. Jemma came out and smiled shyly at him.
He resisted gaping. He didn't understand why she was shy when she looked gorgeous. She was wearing a simple dark blue dress and it looked perfect on her. She only wore dresses for special occasions and even before he liked her, he was always flabbergasted by how easily she turned from scientist to someone who looked like they belonged at a celebrity cocktail hour.
“Hi,” he mumbled.
“Hi.”
They just stood there for a bit.
“Uh, so, dinner,” Fitz tried to speak.
“Right, yes, of course,” Jemma smiled and followed him.
He led them outside and onto the roof, where a table sat under the stars.
“Skye suggested it,” Fitz admitted. “She wrangled the truth outta me and recruited Trip and Bobbi to help. It was probably a good thing she did too. It wasn't nearly as nice before.”
“It would've been perfect either way.”
He ducked his head and blushed. Fitz gestured for them to sit. Jemma saw the food and smirked at him.
“Let me guess, Trip cooked?”
“Well, you know I can't--.”
“Cook anything that isn't breakfast food?”
“Yeah,” he laughed nervously.
They ate in silence for too long in Fitz’s opinion.
“So,” Fitz thought for a moment, “Want to tell me what lines you'd been planning before,” he grinned.
“Heavens no! They were absolutely terrible. I can't flirt to save my life.”
“You can't be that bad.”
“Oh yes I can be.”
“Prove it,” he challenged. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Go on. Try me.”
Jemma licked her lips. “Fine. Erm, you have a very nice… face. It's very… symmetrical. I like men with, um, symmetrical faces.”
Fitz burst out laughing. “That was the best you could do?”
“Like you could do any better!”
“Bet I could.”
“Prove it.”
Fitz swallowed. “Fine. You, uh, you must be,” he trailed off, thinking. “You must be an angel, you're so, uh, beautiful. There, that was way better than that train wreck of yours.” He nearly missed the blush on her cheeks and mentally fist-pumped that he'd caused that.
Ironically, they spent most of dinner doing what they always did: talk about science. They debated chemicals and metals and recent studies, all the while inching their chairs closer until their legs pressed together under the table. Their food had long been forgotten.
A cold breeze came by and Jemma shivered. Fitz brought an arm over her shoulders.
“That I hadn't thought about. Maybe we should go inside?” He didn't really want to. Fitz didn't want to go back inside and probably sit down and watch Doctor Who together as if none of this had happened. He wanted to know if they'd changed. He needed to know.
“Perhaps just a bit longer?” She inched closer to his warmth. “It's beautiful out. Look at that sky, Fitz. It's breathtaking. To think all that is hot gas and debris…”
He looked down from the sky to find his face inches from Jemma’s and he nearly had a heart attack. He had the sudden and terrifying urge to kiss her. Should he do it? Would that be okay?
Before he had time to think about it further. Jemma moved up just the slightest bit, brushing their lips together and looking straight at him. Sparks ran through him and his breathing went shallow. If that wasn't a hint he didn't know what was.
He leaned down and they connected. Their teeth clacked together awkwardly at first, but that subsided into a slow dance. Fitz felt like something was squeezing his heart and it hurt in the best way possible. They separated and leaned their foreheads against each other.
“Hi,” Fitz smiled.
“Hi.”
They came back together, slightly more heated than before. He rested a hand on her waist and she ran one of hers through his hair. Fitz was hoping science was wrong and that he could live without air because then maybe he could kiss Jemma forever.
Fitz nearly jumped when she slid her tongue over his bottom lip, but didn't protest. He knew what to do. While he regretted most past girlfriends, he was grateful the experiences didn't fail to teach him how to kiss. No matter how much Skye might tease them about just staying in the dorms and eating paste, they both knew she was wrong. No, Fitz knew how to kiss and dammit he was going to make this a good one.
He nipped at her lip and she let out a sound Fitz could only classify as something he wanted to hear again. Fitz pulled her closer, deepening the kiss even more. Both scientists let out a sound of appreciation.
They briefly pulled away for air. When the two kissed again, it was much slower, more languid. Jemma pulled away.
“Fitz,” Jemma looked at him.
“Jem?” Fitz fought to control his pitch. He'd thought things were going well. Did she regret kissing him? Was she going to say this was a mistake?
She licked over he swollen lips. “Perhaps we should… go inside.”
He was confused at her emphasis until he took in her appearance. Her cheeks were a dark red, her lips were swollen, but most telling of all were the pupils dilated much too much for just candlelight. He understood.
“Y-yeah, let's, let's do that.” He stood and helped her up with shaking hands, leading them both inside.