"Oh, Fitz, I don't think I can watch - it's too scary!" Jemma hides behind her hands as the clown-masked murderer on the TV climbs through an unsuspecting victim's bedroom window to a soundtrack of rain and thunder.
Fitz pulls her into his arms and strokes his fingers through her dark-caramel hair. "It's just a film, Jem-Jem."
"But you know how much I hate clowns! What if one came through my window?"
"Don't worry, baby, I'll protect you. If a circus creep came through your window, I'd go all Rambo on his arse." Fitz lifts his hands and imitates pumping a sawn-off shotgun to emphasise his point. Jemma giggles and wraps a hand around his bicep.
"My, what big muscles you have. Have you been working out, or eating your spinach?"
"That's not the only big muscle I've got..." Fitz waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Youknowhumsayin?"
"I think so. The gluteus maximus is the largest muscle in the human body; it derives its size from-"
"-That's not what I meant at all! And are y' callin' me a fat-arse?"
"Oh, Fitz. You know I like big butts and I cannot lie. Come here." Jemma wraps a hand around the back of Fitz's neck and pulls his pouting face forward for a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. He growls, and she slides her tongue into his mouth, one eye on the television screen. "Oh, no!" she suddenly shouts, and Fitz screeches and flies away from her.
"My tongue! You bit my bloody tongue!"
Jemma flaps at him, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It was the film!" She points to where the killer clown is pinning a screaming girl against her bed, his knife drawn high. She buries her face in Fitz's shoulder. "Make it stop!"
Fitz picks up the remote and switches off the TV. "I should have known better," he sighs. "Remember that time when you went all Jackie Chan on that statue of Ronald McDonald?"
"Killer eyes, Fitz - KILLER EYES. And I said McDonald's was no good for you!" She draws in on herself, knees pulled under her chin. She glances up at Fitz with puppy eyes. "Can you check outside my window?"
"We're on a plane thirty-thousand feet up in the air. Ain't no clowns up here, sweet cheeks - the windows don't even open." But Fitz falls into her big, pleading eyes... Literally falls. He bangs his forehead against Jemma's, and she yelps.
"Fitz!"
"Sorry, baby." He kisses her forehead before righting himself and lifting the little blind to peer out into the darkness. "See? Nothing out there but stars." He climbs off the bed and extracts Jemma from where she's moved over to the bunk door, pressed up against it to get as far away from the window as possible. A smouldering smile on his face, he scoops her up, bridal style, as she swoons.
"Oh, Fitz, you're my hero!"
"I got you baby, always. Oh, and here, I got you something." Fitz reaches into his pocket, miraculously managing not to drop her, and pulls out a stunning white and blue diamond necklace.
Jemma gasps, her eyes like saucers. "But I thought the old lady dropped it into the ocean in the end?"
"Well, baby, I went down and got it for you."
"After you nearly drowned the last time? Oh, you shouldn't have..." She grasps the necklace tight, brings it up to her lips, and whispers to it. "My precious..."
"What was that?"
Jemma glances up at him nervously. "Nothing... Here, put it on me." She slides out of Fitz's hold and turns her back to him, offering him the necklace. He takes it and fastens it around her neck, then spins her round.
"Stunning. And the necklace isn't bad, either."
"Stop, you'll make me blush! How did you get down there, anyway?"
"I dived. Which, in hindsight, was quite stupid, because we have a mini-sub on here."
"We have a mini submarine on the Bus? Huh. Who knew."
Fita throws an arm up into the air. "Me! I did! I designed it. But I'm so clever and I design so many gadgets, weapons and other highly specialised knick-knacks, that I damn well forgot about it - if I'd run us into that instead of the med pod, I wouldn't have been in a coma! " He slaps his hand against his forehead. "Doh!"
Jemma giggles and wraps a strand of hair around her finger coquettishly. "Oh, Fitz. You're so silly."
"I know! Having a PhD in super-smarts can make you super-silly at times. But, you know," he takes hold of her and presses her into the door, causing her to squeak in surprise, "that's not the only 'PhD' I've got..."
"Ugh, Fitz, enough with the penis jokes! You're hung like a stallion, I know." Then her face twists into something far more sultry as she grabs his arse and grinds herself against him. He curses at the friction, then moans frustratedly when she pushes him away from her. "There will be more of that later. But first..." Jemma steps away from the door and drags her bottom lip between her teeth as she holds his gaze and slowly unbuttons her shirt. She lets it fall to the floor, her bra quickly joining it.
Fitz's eyes bug out of his head. Seeing Jemma's perky breasts never gets old, and he immediately starts thinking of all the things he wants to do to them.
"I want you to draw me, Fitz. Draw me like one of your French girls." She fingers the necklace delicately. "Wearing this - wearing only this."
"Uh-huh." Fitz nods dumbly, tugging at his collar. He gestures to the bed.
Jemma strips the rest of her clothes off and arranges herself in what she thinks is a seductive pose. Fitz frowns as he watches her, then moves one arm above her head and taps at her knee.
"Bend this leg a little... There. Hold that." He produces a pad and pencil seemingly from thin air, then perches on the end of her bed and gets to work.
Ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door.
"Hey! What are you guys doing in there?"
"We're busy!" Fitz shouts back.
"You better not be doing the frick frack! Dumb science babies don't have sex. You don't know how it works!"
Jemma cringes. "Oh my god, Coulson!"
"What have I told you about calling me that?"
"Sorry, Daddy Coulson, but we have sex all the time, so joke's on you!"
"Jemma Simmons, you take that back right now, young lady!" The sound of Coulson hyperventilating filters through the door.
"Relax, old man, I'm just sketching Jemma's boobs!" The movement of Jemma's hands catches Fitz's eye, and he turns his head back to her to see her staring down trance-like at the necklace and stroking it fondly. "Baby girl, what are you doing?"
She drops the necklace back against her chest with a start. "Nothing!"
"Stop stroking it! It took me ages to get it that shiny."
"Hey, hey, hey, no one better be stroking anything at all!"
Fitz rolls his eyes. "It's the Heart of the Ocean! You know, Le Coeur de la Mer!"
"Oh, I love it when you speak French," Jemma breathes, her cheeks and neck flushing pink. "It's so hot."
"I don't care what you call it, don't do it! Don't make me get Mama May..."
Jemma sits up and leans over to look at Fitz's sketch pad. "Oh, Fitz... It's beautiful. We shall get a frame for it." She plucks the pad from his hands and sets it down carefully on the floor near the head of the bed. "Now, come here..." Jemma grabs hold of his tie and pulls him down between her legs, her mouth crashing against his.
Fitz moans into her mouth, and tries to tug his clothes off without breaking the kiss, but Jemma eventually giggles at his efforts and gives him a helping hand.
"RIGHT, THAT'S IT - I'M GETTING MAMA MAY!"
Naturally, Jemma and Fitz both ignore him and carry on with getting their frick frack on.