#aosfemslash

“I remember our first year at the Academy. First Christmas away from home and all that, I tracked down a half-decent tea. Was pretty proud of myself ‘til she went and imported a proper care package – baked beans, Hobnobs, crumpets, the whole bit. It’s the fatal combination of thoughtfulness and money. Not easy to compete when you’ve got nothing to your name but twenty-five p and a prehistoric hippie van.”

“Huh.” Daisy smiled to herself, imagining the scandal on Fitz’s face – no doubt quickly replaced by undying devotion – as he watched Jemma come in the door she had constructed in her mind with a comedically large hamper of British goodies. She remembered the first gift Jemma had really ever given her; the hula girl from her van and then her bunk, saved from being trashed or thrown into storage. Jemma didn’t really count it as a gift – it was Daisy’s own belonging, after all – but still, Daisy appreciated the sentiment.

Sentiment. Hula-girl. Twenty-five p and a prehistoric hippie van.

Piece by piece, the idea fell into place and suddenly it solidified, perfect, before her. Daisy bolted out of her seat, sending the hair elastic flying.

“I’m a genius,” she declared.

“I- what?”

Fitz, blindsided, blanked on an appropriately witty response, but it was already too late; Daisy was already sprinting down the hall. At least, she was for a few seconds. Then she came back, and stuck her head through the doorway.

“Can I borrow fifty bucks for gas?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“You’re the best.” Beaming, she was on her way.

--

“Where are we?” Jemma wondered, and not for the first time. She had allowed a very excited, slightly nervous Daisy to blindfold her this morning before they got in the car and though she knew the end of their journey would be nothing but a pleasant surprise, her curiosity was insatiable. They had just slowed down, and Daisy had lowered the music. They must be pulling in somewhere. “Are we nearly there?”

“It’s a surprise,” Daisy explained – and again, not for the first time. She couldn’t help but smile, watching Jemma twist in her seat and listen intently at the window, trying to take everything in. “But yes, we’re nearly there.”

“We’re in a forest,” Jemma decided.

“Maybe,” Daisy teased. Of course, they were – with the smell of pines and the sound of the birds it wasn’t hard to guess. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. Now, wait here, I’ve just got to sort something – B R B.”

Jemma nodded, and Daisy stopped the engine. Her feet crunched across something – gravel, leaf litter, pine needles? Jemma compiled a list of suspects in her mind – and she conversed in a low voice with someone. She laughed, and returned to the car.

Jemma reached for the blindfold. Surely by now it was time to take it down?

“Not yet,” Daisy said. There was a smile in her voice. A thrill of anticipation that made Jemma want to break free of the confines of the car, and touch and smell everything their surrounds had to offer and unravel Daisy’s secrets. But then Daisy reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers, and the curiosity – while far from sated – took its pause.

Jemma couldn’t tell how long it was until they finally stopped again. Daisy had lowered the window, letting the fresh air and the birds fill her mind and distract her even as she tried her best to archive what she was smelling and hearing and where in the world they could be.

No amount of mental cataloguing, though, could have prepared Jemma for what she saw when Daisy helped her out of the car and around the back of the van and opened the doors and sat her on something cushioned and finally – finally – announced –

“Okay. You can take it off now.”

Jemma ripped the blindfold down from her eyes, and the breath caught in her throat.

Stretching out before her was a glorious expanse of pine forest, rolling over hills and mountains and valleys like an ocean of rich green life. The sun was starting to set, bathing the whole scene in a soft pink twilight. Birds returned to their nests, others gambolled toward the horizon. Wind rustled the trees.

“Happy Birthday,” Daisy whispered.

Jemma blinked, freed from the entrancing magic of the scene before her for long enough to absorb where they were sitting – in the back of Daisy’s old van, hula girl and all, surrounded by pillows and blankets and trinkets from layers and layers of life.

“Daisy,” Jemma breathed. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

She leaned across the space between them and Daisy was happy to oblige with a kiss. But while Jemma would have been content to make out for hours in the soft pink light, Daisy had other plans. Grinning, she reached behind her and pulled a picnic basket into the space between them.

“Hold on,” she said, “I’m starving.”

Jemma blinked down at their interruption in surprise as Daisy flipped the lid, pulled out a punnet of strawberries, and commenced opening a bottle of champagne.

“You know,” Jemma remarked, “if you’re hungry, you really should have more protein.”

“Disagree,” Daisy retorted. As if to demonstrate, she bit into a strawberry, took a swig of champagne, and leaned in for another kiss.

“So, coffee?” Daisy offered.

“Sure,” Jemma agreed, “but uh - that hot date promised to teach me how to hit a six, so maybe later.”

Daisy blinked, surprised, and glanced at the pile of equipment the rest of the team had left nearby. She hadn’t really expected Jemma to be seriously interested in softball, it was just a helpful ruse – and a universally accepted one, or so she’d thought. Still, she knew better than most that the heart wanted what the heart wanted. And she was on the pack up roster this week, after all, so she could swing it. Literally.

“Are you sure?” she checked. “In those shoes? And what does ‘hit a six’ mean?”

Jemma shook back her hair, and took off her gloves. “Oh, my apologies,” she corrected, and affected an American accent to add, “I meant ‘a homer’.” `

Daisy rolled her eyes, and strode up to the pile of practice bats. She selected her favourite –electric blue aluminium, a little battered and with paint chipped off in parts, but still good – as well as a practice tee, and then she backed up into the field, goading Jemma to follow.

“Alright, hot shot. Come on then.”

Jemma’s heart leapt in her chest as Daisy plunged the practice tee into the earth. It was at once, a rush of attraction – she was strong, and in her element, and this was something a little different from the standard coffee date – but at the same time, no shortage of fear. It was all well and good to talk the talk, but in truth, Jemma had no idea how practically coordinated she was… or was not. It was not that she was unfit; far from it. It was just that… well… there was a lot going on with one’s hands, eyes, and mind, and she had been too busy flirting to remember that she didn’t actually have the faintest idea what she was doing otherwise.

And then Daisy held out the bat.

“Uh.” Jemma hesitated, just for a beat, but it was enough to catch herself out. How was she to take it? How was she to hold it? Like a sword, a mallet, a racquet, a baton? How had she gotten to this point, standing in the grass, about to make a complete fool of herself in front of Daisy? Fantastic. In the span of a few seconds, she’d overthought it so much by that she’d scarcely be surprised if she downright dropped the blasted thing.

Daisy raised a curious eyebrow. It was strangely comforting to watch Jemma “Brilliant At Everything, Including Saying the Word Brilliant” Simmons confront her own overconfidence, but Daisy couldn’t let her flail for too long. She took the bat back, demonstrating the hold.

“Like this, remember?”

“Right. Yes.”

Jemma finally took the bat, and though she fumbled with its obvious foreignness, she didn’t seem too fazed. In fact if anything, Daisy thought, that scowl of concentration meant she was genuinely interested in putting her money where her mouth was and learning how to hit this thing out of the park. Daisy bit her lip. She liked a woman who liked a challenge, especially when said woman decided to shuck off her coat as well. She cut a fine form in a cardigan and neat slacks, and though she looked a little out of place, she was fit and determined. Daisy found herself perusing the curve of Jemma’s hip with such admiration that she all but ignored the woman’s otherwise poor form until her first attempt at bat crumbled into a twisted, poorly aimed, overzealous mess.

“Oh, bloody hell!” Jemma cried, but it was more of a whimper than a curse. She hit the tee with an unflattering clang and the ball bounced off half-heartedly, and the base of the tee ripped up a clod of earth and grass as it keeled sideways. The bat all but fell from her fingers.

Jemma closed her eyes for a long moment, cringing on every conceivable level of consciousness. She looked a fool. She had probably insulted Daisy by not taking it seriously, something she loved and had been invited into. Was she going to get Daisy in trouble? Oh no.

Instead, Daisy laughed. It was a gentle sort of chuckle, barely mocking at all.

“Don’t worry, that happens to all the newbies,” Daisy promised, fixing the tee and resetting the ball. “You’ve just gotta stay grounded. Here. If you don’t mind…”

She disappeared back behind Jemma for a moment, but it was only a moment, and then Jemma’s heart was pounding for an entirely different reason. Daisy reached in from behind to steady her hands on the bat, and stayed there. Jemma felt with every fibre of her being the warmth of Daisy’s breath on her neck; her weight where their legs brushed; her breasts just ever so slightly pressing against Jemma’s back.

Hesitation. Daisy’s fingers tensed around the bat, wondering if she’d pushed it too far. It was only a first date, after all. Maybe she should have just stuck to coffee. But then –

“Like this?”

Jemma asked, and if Daisy was not mistaken she was holding her breath a little as she moved her hand to wrap it over Daisy’s. Jemma’s fingers were cold, but Daisy felt a stinging warmth where their skin touched. She swallowed hard. She’d brought this tension on herself. Jemma laughed, and Daisy knew it was for her. The sly little minx was enjoying herself – she should have known, she was not the only one to have seen enough rom coms to recognise this move.

(She would later find out that Jemma had learnt it from the X Files. Funnily enough, that’s where she most vividly remembered it from too.)

Then, because Jemma was full of surprises today, she swung with force and a shriek of panic-slash-delight, and sent the ball careening – well, not that far, but still. She collapsed into more laughter; this time, not a smug little chuckle, but crinkle-nosed hysterics, as she jogged through the grass to collect the ball. Daisy found herself beaming too, despite the flush in her cheeks, as Jemma held the ball out to her.

“I think I’d best leave it to the experts, hm?” Jemma speculated.

“I don’t know,” Daisy suggested with a shrug. “I think after a few more training sessions, you could really be something.”

Was she thinking, Jemma wondered, of more skin-on-skin, breath-on-breath ‘training sessions’; like this one, but perhaps, in more private and opportune locations? Or was it coffee and dinner and films and stargazing on her mind, and that something they could be… maybe in that sunlight-yellow breakfast nook Jemma had always dreamed about?

There was a little smile on Jemma’s face at whatever she was thinking, and Daisy drunk it in, surprised at her own enrapturement. She hadn’t spent a lot of time imagining her own future, but it was easy with Jemma. The now was, at least. They jested with each other, talked; they read each other like nobody seemed to have done before. If she were being honest, Daisy wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted, or thought they could be. All she knew was that she wanted to spend more time with this woman. Any time. All the time.

They stood two arm lengths apart, holding the ball between them and thinking. Overthinking. Until each of them decided, in the spirit of those thoughts, to step in and close the gap.

“I – um,” Daisy murmured. She wasn’t used to feeling so many butterflies with her crushes.

“I think I rather like you,” Jemma confessed, and Daisy laughed and filled the space between them with frosty air. It seemed so soft, so simple put that way.

“Me too,” she agreed.

“If I’m being honest, I actually don’t have a great deal of interest in softball,” Jemma continued. “It was all a ruse. I was rather hoping to kiss you, actually.”

“Good, because I was rather hoping you were hoping to kiss me.”

Jemma blushed, and Daisy smirked and raised her eyebrows; a little bit of a challenge, but one she knew Jemma would take as an invitation. Especially when she tugged on the softball they were both holding between them, pulling Jemma even closer.

For her part, Jemma didn’t need to be asked twice. Her nose was cold and she wasn’t sure exactly where she was sticking it, but she was a practiced kisser and if she stood on her toes just right she could almost find the perfect angle for her and Daisy to fit together. Satisfied, she grinned against Daisy’s lips when she heard the softball drop to the grass between them with a dull thud, and felt Daisy’s arms wrap around her hips instead.

They stood in that little pocket of embrace for a long moment, until they started to realise that the world was still moving around them. Jemma took a deep breath, and sighed it out. Daisy looked around at the mess she had left to clean up. The day was pressing on, and time waited for no woman… but maybe they could chase after it for a while.

“I still have time for tea before my first class?” Jemma suggested.

“Help me put away this junk and I’m there,” Daisy agreed. “I haven’t even eaten breakfast.”

And so help her, Jemma made it almost thirty seconds – she collected her gloves and picked up some of the equipment and made it a few paces behind Daisy before it finally slipped out –

“You know, it’s not just a saying, that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”