I’d like to write about Fitzsimmons, but I’m gonna need a moment. In the meantime: all the Daisy/Fitz brotp feels (@agentcalliope if you’re interested!).
Fitz knocks, so softly, as if he’s not sure he really wants an answer. He contemplates knocking twice but finds that he’s used all his strength just getting to her door. His arm drops back down to his side and he sighs, leaning his forehead against the cool wood.
His jumper scratches uncomfortably around his neck. He feels uncomfortable all the time now. The suits and polished shoes had never seemed quite right, but now that he’s back his old clothes look like someone else’s. When he opened his closet, he could barely remember what it felt like to wear them.
“Sk—Daisy,” he whispers and then he stumbles forward when she opens the door abruptly. She’s there, just over the threshold of her bedroom, hair short again. This should be familiar—he shouldn’t be expecting long hair, he shouldn’t have to concentrate to call her Daisy, and suddenly he wants very much to curl up on the floor and cry.
“Fitz!” she says, and it’s her genuine smile, as if she’s actually thrilled to see him, that causes his chest to crack wide open.
“Daisy,” he says again, but he can’t get any of the other words out. Not the words he’d typed on his phone or the ones he’d rehearsed in his head before falling into what could only generously be described as sleep. It’s all gone now except for her name, her name, and this heavy sorrow weighing his bones down. This feeling that after all this time and after all they’ve been through, he’ll never again deserve to be in her orbit.
Her smile falls and she tugs on his arm, pulling him into her room and shutting the door.
“What’s wrong, Fitz?” she asks, concern lighting up her face and he can’t help his disbelieving scoff.
He sits heavily on her bed and buries his face in his hands. “How can you even look at me?” he asks. Some part of him wants her to lose control and scream at him. He’s desperate for her rage and her disgust. He remembers the way it felt when her vibrations choked the air from him and right now he thinks he’d welcome that too.
Daisy shifts on her feet, unsure, before finally settling down beside him on her bed. She pulls a pillow onto her lap and curls around it like a child.
“It wasn’t you, Fitz. The real you was fighting it the whole time.”
Fitz shakes his head quickly, tears blurring his vision. “It was me. I have those...those memories. I remember—god, it makes me sick. All those inhumans and I just…”
Daisy slowly leans over until her head is resting lightly against his shoulder. She’s barely touching him, and he’s not sure if she’s worried about breaking him or herself.
“Do you know what I remember?” she asks. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels the tears roll down his cheeks but doesn’t bother wiping them away.
“I remember going through terrigenesis, only I had no idea what that was. My whole body felt different, like this intense buzzing under my skin and I was in quarantine and I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew, I just knew something was very wrong with me. And you...you told me it would be okay. You said I was just different but there was nothing wrong with that. And later you said SHIELD should be protecting me. That’s who are you, Fitz. That was you being one of my best friends—being my family. Not this...whatever this programming was.”
“But how can you even look at me?” Fitz repeats, stuck on the image of Daisy’s face in the framework, when she’d witnessed his crimes, when he’d told her inhumans were not part of their humanity.
Fitz’s shoulder is damp from where Daisy has rested her head. She wipes her own tears from her face and sighs. “I’m not going to say it didn’t hurt. But...everyone was so messed up in the framework. And I know that’s not your fault.”
“I’m sorry,” he finally chokes out. “Daisy, I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I say can change what happened but I’ve never…”
Daisy grabs his hand then, drawing it away from his face. “Hey, you think I don’t know what this feels like? I know exactly what it’s like to have something else in your mind, creating a different reality for you. I know what it’s like to hurt people you love and not even know. I almost killed you, Fitz, and there are times I still can’t forgive myself for that.”
Fitz shakes his head. “That’s different, you were swayed by a powerful Inhuman—”
She cuts him off, angling around so she’s facing him fully. “It’s not different, okay? But if you need to hear it—I forgive you.”
Fitz looks up at her then, finally brave enough, and is nearly bowled over by the sincere warmth in her eyes. She’s not flinching from him, after all, and the sight makes him laugh. Or cry. He’s not even really sure what he’s doing at the moment.
“I was so afraid you could never...you’ve been like the sister I never had and I don’t...I just don’t want to lose you.”
Daisy smiles then and pulls him into a fierce hug. He doesn’t feel he deserves it, but his arms wrap around her almost unconsciously. He buries his head against her shoulder and takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“Fitz, don’t be stupid. You’re my best friend, and after all the insane shit we’ve experienced, some psycho murderbot is not going to be the thing that rips us apart. Besides, I’ve already planned the most kickass bachelor party so, I’m not going anywhere.”
Fitz leans back then, wrinkling his brow as he frowns at her in confusion. “Bachelor party? Jemma and I, we’re not even engaged.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fitz, don’t be stupid,” she says again and this time he knows he’s laughing.
“Don’t you think Jemma would be upset you’re not planning her bachelorette party?” He’s dizzy from the change of subject and the happiness trickling into his veins still feels undeserved, but he lets it fill him up like desperately-needed medicine.
“Who said I wasn’t planning hers too? In case you missed it, genius, I’m a literal superhero.” Daisy stands suddenly and tosses her pillow at Fitz, who barely manages to catch it. When he looks up, he sees tears glistening against her skin and a smile that mirrors his own.
“You and Simmons want to have a movie night? Like old times, except we pick a movie that’s 100% cute and fluffy and absolutely no scary, sad parts and no robots.” She looks at him expectantly and his numb limbs start to tingle. He wonders if this is what healing feels like.
“Yeah. I’ll get Jemma and grab some beer, you—”
“—I’ll get the popcorn and the movie.”
He moves past her to angle out the door, but she throws her arms around him without warning in a hug that’s so her, so characteristically Daisy, it makes his heart clench.
“We’re going to be okay,” she whispers, and that night, curled up on the sofa with Jemma in his arms and Daisy stealing swigs of his beer, when all three of them laugh shockingly loudly at the movie, he finds that he truly believes it.
