my skimmons secret santa gift for you!
To @agentsonthebus from @dreamsheartstory
so once upon a time you prompted me to write some teenage!skimmons, i thought weâd bring that backâŚ
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Four in the morning and thereâs a knock on Jemma Simmonsâ second story window. At least she thinks itâs a knock. It could be a tree branch. There is a storm raging outside and she wouldnât be surprised if the tree could reach. Except, there it is again. Definitely not a tree.
Once upon a time she would have thought it was her girlfriend, Skye, but sheâs been gone for four weeks and no one knows where she is. The last time she heard from her was a text, two weeks after she had disappeared, that simply said, my name is daisy now. Jemma pushes further under her covers, her heart sinking quickly and she can feel the familiar pain push back in. Wherever Skye- Daisy-, wherever her girlfriend had gone it doesnât matter because she wouldnât just show back up in the middle of the night, on the night before Christmas none the less, without a single word.
Whatever it is raps on the window three more times.
Jemma presses her lips together in a thin line, she has to be awake in precisely three and a half hours to help with Christmas morning breakfast and has not had enough sleep for this. She slides out from underneath the covers grabbing her biology textbook from her desk and presses up against the wall next to her window. Whoever it is that is outside is definitely not an attacker, no attacker would knock so many times waiting to be let in, maybe it is just a tree branch, but no.
Thereâs a shadow being cast into the room by the streetlamps and itâs girl shaped.
Jemma drops her textbook and throws open her window narrowly missing the girl hanging upside down from the roof. Thereâs a small part of her thatâs entirely disappointed in herself for missing the short-haired miscreant who is now climbing into her room. Sheâs angry and very much not awake enough to deal with this properly.
âItâs four in the morning,â she whispers harshly. âAnd youâve been missing for four weeks.â
Daisy shuffles her feet, water dripping off her and onto the carpet. Jemma can tell sheâs trying to appear remorseful but thereâs a mischievous look in her eye, âRather auspicious timing then.â She wrings her hands and looks at Jemma with a small smile. âIsnât it also the twenty-fourth of December?â
Jemma rolls her eyes, âActually itâs technically the twenty-fifth-â
âSo close.â
â-where have you been?â She takes a step towards Daisy. âItâs Christmas, Skye- Daisy. Whatever Iâm supposed to call you.â
Her eyes light up, âMy message got through?â
âJust that one line!â She takes another step closer softly shoving at her girlfriendâs chest. She can feel the anger bubbling inside her, but itâs tempered by relief and fear, and she doesnât like violence, even if for the past few weeks she has wanted nothing but to hit something until someone tells her where Skye has been. Daisy, she corrects herself.
âOh,â Daisyâs face falls. âOh.â
âYes, thatâs right, the police have been searching for you and Iâve been worried sick. What do you mean your name is Daisy now.â
âJemma, Iâm so sorry, she took my phone and-â
âWho took your phone?â
âMy mother.â
âYour mother? I thought she was dead.â
âApparently thereâs a lot of things about me that I thought that are wrong.â Daisy folds her arms across her chest and digs the toe of her boot into the sodden carpet, âMy mother named me Daisy.â
Jemma sighs, her shoulders slumping, because she can never stay mad at her girlfriend, not when she sees her like this, folded in on herself and so incredibly vulnerable. âTake off your clothes.â
Daisy gives her a vaguely salacious look and Jemma sets her hands on her hips. âYet again youâre getting water all over my floor in the middle of the night and my parents donât like wet carpets. They also donât like finding you in my bed in the morning, which also keeps happening.â She feels a slight blush creep over her cheeks. âIâll get you some clothes and a towel. Then weâll wake my parents.â
The house groans against the storm outside but neither of them moves. It yawns between them like a chasm. Four weeks is a lifetime when youâre seventeen.
Daisy drops her jacket to the ground, sheâs working on her soaked leather boots when she speaks next. âWe canât tell your parents, theyâll call the police, and then Iâll just end up back at the foster house or worse, juvie for truancy.â
âPeople have been worried, they were starting to think youâre dead! You canât just disappear on people like that⌠on me like that.â  Jemma spins and feels out the door into the hallway. Sheâs angry, sheâs been angry for the last four weeks, but now that Daisy is back in front of her again she just wants to forget everything that happened and kiss her.
She leans against the wall clutching the towel to her chest. Daisy is back. Jemma pinches her arm because this has to be a dream, just another dream where Daisy comes back and they donât find her body in a ditch on the side of the highway because thatâs all she sees when she closes her eyes. Just another teenage runaway failed by the system that turns into a Jane Doe in some back country morgue. Jemmaâs nails do into her skin.
Sheâs awake.
It only takes a moment for Jemma to push back into her room and shut the door behind her because there is a very alive, very wet, and very much half naked Daisy standing in the middle of her room. She glances down and can hear her girlfriend laugh softly.
âI see you havenât changed.â
She tries not to watch as Daisy dries herself off and ends up facing the corner of her room while having to have what is probably one of the most adult conversations sheâs ever had.
âAre you going to tell me where youâve been? Or why you didnât tell me you were leaving?â
âI didnât know I was leaving. And Iâm still not quite certain where I was.â
âShe kidnapped you?â Jemma cries out, spinning around and clamping her hand over her mouth because the last thing she needs right now is her parents interrupting before she understands what is going on. Daisy has even less on than she did a moment ago, and Jemma stares, mouth agape before quickly turning around again, thankful for the dark. âYour dead mother kidnapped you, how do you even know itâs her? I thought you were dropped off without even a note? And genetics tests take months.â
âWhen you put it like thatâŚâ She can hear Daisy dressing behind her, biding her time. âYes, she kidnapped me, but I stayed because I wanted to. I thought you would be happier to see me.â
âI am happy to see you, Sk- Daisy.â Jemma sinks down to the floor and pulls her knees to her chest. âI just donât understand why you left me.â
Thereâs a wet plop followed by soft footsteps and Jemma can feel Daisy settle in behind her not quite touching, not yet, but there to wrap her a rounds around Jemma when sheâs ready. Fingertips run down her spine and she shivers under the feather light touch.
âShe didnât want me communicating with anyone from home.â Daisy continues to draw patterns on Jemmaâs back as she talks. âDidnât want the police taking me back here. And I tried to get a message out to you, only apparently it didnât send all the important things like Iâm safe,â Daisy turns Jemma around so theyâre face to face. âLike I love you and Iâll be home soon.â
Jemmaâs breath catches in her throat because itâs been four weeks since she heard those words spill past those perfect lips. Four weeks of trying to hold onto hope that Daisy was alive when everyone else believed she was dead or long gone. She reaches out, her fingers curling around the neckline of Daisyâs shirt and pulls her in close.
âNever do that to me again.â She kisses her before Daisy has a chance to respond and she pulls her down onto the ground until she can feel Daisyâs weight on top of her. The kiss is soft and gentle.
Daisy brushes her nose across Jemmaâs cheek and pulls back, a grin on her face. âYou know as much as as Iâm enjoying our current position I canât help but remember your bed is just about the most comfortable thing ever and Iâve been sleeping in a van for the past month.â
âIs this your attempt to bed me Miss Daisy?â
âNo,â Daisy runs her hands down Jemmaâs sides. âIâm sure I could do that right here, but really though, can we cuddle in your bed instead of next to it?â
Jemma laughs and pulls them up into her bed, tangling their legs together and leaning in for a quick kiss. âSo why come back on Christmas if you found your mother?â
âChristmas miracle, I got my wish.â
âWhich was?â
âYou.â
The sun is up before they fall asleep.
Thereâs a knock on the door and Jemma only wakes up partway, enough to burrow in closer to Daisy and remind herself that her girlfriend is very much alive and warm in her arms. Another knock sounds and her bedroom door is opened. Her mother steps inside the room.
âJemma, darling, we need your help with Christmas- SKYE, IS THAT YOU?â
Daisy groans and buries her face against Jemmaâs hair. âWe forgot to tell them,â she mumbles.
âYes, Mum, itâs Daisy. Christmas miracle and all.â Jemmaâs voice is mostly lost against Daisyâs  neck. âCan we not call the police just yet?â
âPlease Mrs. Simmons.â
Jemma cracks open an eye and watches her mother over Daisyâs shoulder. Her heart is pounding, afraid sheâs going to lose Daisy so soon after sheâs gotten her back. She tightens her grip on Daisyâs shirt as she takes in her motherâs crossed arms and tapping foot. This is what she was afraid of. They make eye contact and Jemma watches as her motherâs shoulders relax.
âWeâll talk after breakfast, which both of you will help with, and Daisy, come here and give me a hug.â














