14) first use of term of endearment/nickname - Fitzsimmons or Skimmons BrOTP (I just love people calling my daughter 'Jem', ok?)
Same, Nonnie, same. Makes my heart flutter a little. Thanks for the prompt! This probably only qualifies as a drabble but I hope you like it!
(Prompt from this list of family/friendship firsts)
“Simmons!” Fitz gives the dorm room door another impatient hammer with his fist. “Are you sick or something? We’ve got lab in ten minutes!”
They’ve made it a habit of meeting down by the fountain before class, compare notes, quiz each other in the event of an unscheduled exam. She knows this is driven mostly by her over-zealousness, but he must not find it too terribly obnoxious if, the first morning she isn’t there thirty minutes early, he took the time to come retrieve her.
She thinks about staying silent and waiting for him to leave, saying she was in the library and forgoing the humiliation of sharing this disappointment. But it seems rude, and she’s never been particularly good at lying. She pulls her door open.
His fist is still raised to knock again. He lowers it and blinks at her, taking in her face and the absence of her usual thousand-watt smile. It’s such fixture seeing her without it is somewhat disconcerting.
Before he can ask what’s wrong, she flips her laptop around to show him the email open on the screen. Fitz squints and leans forward to read it.
Your research proposition has been declined.
The line still floats in front of her eyes even with the screen flipped around. She watches the confusion in his expression change to surprise and waits for it to settle on pity or smugness or whatever else this cut-throat world of competition can produce, thinking already that sharing a weakness like this was a mistake, opening the door at all was a mistake, because on top of it all she’s about to cry in front of him too.
She isn’t used to failure. She isn’t used to rejection.
But there’s nothing but genuine sympathy there when he finally raises his eyes to hers.
It’s all he says, soft and kind, resting a hand on her shoulder.
There’s an unexpected salve in the sound. He’s never called her that before. In fact, he’s only used her first name a couple times, usually when he thinks she’s being particularly uppity. It’s just how things work around here. Everyone’s a last name, and usually she prefers it that way, prefers the token of respect it offers in the old boys’ club STEM tends to still resemble.
But when he says it like that, like something personal kept just between them. It gives her back some of her identity. Reminds her she’s more than a name on a roster, more than just her research. More than just his competition.
He keeps his hand on her shoulder a minute longer, until she manages to shake some of the shock and disappointment, close the laptop and slide it into her bag.
“Right, well, I suppose I know what I’m doing tonight then. I’ve got a whole new proposal to come up with. We ought to go if we don’t want to be late.”
She locks her door in a swift motion and sets off down the hallway at a brisk pace.
“For the record, passing up on your proposal - well, that’s bollocks,” Fitz says, jogging a little to catch up.
And Jemma finds that by the time they hit the stairwell she’s actually smiling. Because she may not have a research project, but she definitely has a friend.
