#net2exchange

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As protocol dictated, the team set up camp shortly after the portal had left them abandoned. They did not have much in the way of rations, and even less instructions for their mission on this planet, so they broke up protein bars into thirds and chewed on their miserable lots, thinking.

“At least our benevolent overlords have given us something to think about other than – that place,“ Piper muttered.

“Benevolent?” Elena retorted, screwing up her face. “They’re not – Oh. You were being sarcastic. Sorry.”

She returned her eyes to the centre of the circle, wishing there was a fire to help her send her negative thoughts to the sky. They couldn’t make one unless they found something to burn, though, and from what she could see, there was nothing. So, her mood was pricklier than usual. Piper shrugged it off. None of them were feeling particularly benevolent at the moment anyway.

“Ugh,” Daisy groaned, rolling her eyes as she propped herself up on straight arms and threw her head back. Her voice grated with the frustration all of them were feeling. “Where are we going? Why are we here?”

“It’s torture,” Fitz murmured; not the exaggerated lament of his typical grumpy self, but the pointed insight of a darkened soul who felt he was being brutally honest. Daisy bit her lip for a moment, but with a considerable amount of effort, rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be stupid,” she scolded, if nothing else, to needle a rise out of him. He’d been sullen and brooding all day and it wasn’t going to end well. But Fitz was unfazed.

“Think about it,” he insisted. “If they have the technology to send us here, they must have some kind of probe that could find whatever it is they’re looking for. Instead, they send us. With a box of bloody muesli bars and enough water for a short hike. No deadlines, no known goal, and no rendezvous point. So, either they’re testing us - seeing how resourceful we are - or they don’t care, and they’re just going to wait until we all go crazy and eat each other.”

He crossed his arms, feeling the chill inside his soul more so than on the surface of his skin, despite the endless night.

“The planet’s called 'Maveth', Daisy," he finished. "Death. What did you expect?”

Daisy swallowed hard.

“Secret organisations just love their damn power trips, huh?”

She tried for a blasé snort, but it was hard to manage whilst sitting on the surface of a planet called Death. Even harder, when the person she sought to back up her attempted humour, was inadvertently the one who’d be least willing to joke about this hellhole. Daisy’s smile faded and she hung her head. At least she could hope Jemma missed that: after walking in a near-catatonic daze for most of the day, she had curled up without eating and, apparently, had fallen asleep.

Apparently.

Jemma moved her shoulders a little, slowly. Her heart pounded in her chest; it was the only thing she could hear once Daisy had stopped talking. She clenched her protein bar so tightly to her chest that even the packet didn’t dare crinkle, and she was glad for her thick jacket, disguising the true shape of the tension in her shoulders. Let them think she was asleep. Perhaps then they would stop looking her over with such painful sympathy.

She felt Fitz’s gaze cast over her, and though they could not see each other’s faces, Jemma squeezed her eyes shut. Her body felt like it was on fire: nothing but searing pain. Nothing but suffering, and the love and the yearning she felt was only making it worse. It was exhausting. Caring. Loving. Wanting. Wanting him, wanting to be alone, wanting an end to their suffering that she could never bring. It was exhausting, knowing that even if they escaped to that little cottage in Perthshire after all this, the cloudy days would still make her want to scream. There seemed to be no way out of this pain. Certainly there was nothing she could do about it. Even if she really were a trained medical professional, she could not bring back the friends they had lost over again. She could not heal the fact that her best friend had been hunted down and beaten half-dead and returned victorious to a world where she was once again a prisoner. She could not soothe Fitz – Fitz, who was suffering perhaps more deeply than he ever had, and struggling as much as ever to articulate it. And that was before she even got started on her own wounds.

Like this place.

Part of Jemma wondered – maybe even hoped – that they had not escaped the Framework yet after all. That, maybe, they had ascended to a second level. One designed specifically to torture her. Perhaps the first was Fitz’s nightmare; turning him into everything he hated, and doing so with the knowledge that he would remember the whole thing after the fact. And now, this was her hell. Endless, bland, scraping by… and here, of all places. Of course, it was here. Where else would any good mind game set her scene? What’s worse was, all her friends were here too. Suffering alongside her, in a place she’d once thought she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

(And that was saying something).

Her stomach grumbled. Jemma took a deep breath. The protein bar, in all its berry-and-Greek-yoghurt flavoured goodness, was still clenched so tightly between her fingers that it was well on its way to becoming a diamond, but she couldn’t bring herself to take a bite. She remembered well the taste of that hideous monster plant, and she wasn’t ready to taste it again any time soon. If that meant waiting until her stomach was crawling its way out of her body before so much as sniffing at her lifeline, she was prepared to wait.

So for the first time in a long time, Jemma went to sleep hungry.

---

She woke up on an alien planet, with alien air in her lungs. She woke with a start, and her weight was wrong and the sounds around her were foreign and her eyes were blinded by blue and darkness and stars. How could there still be stars? There had been stars for so long.

Her hand tightened around her makeshift blade, and a crinkling sound made her jump. She looked down. It was not a knife at all but something soft and useless and strange. She’d crushed it in her hands while she’d slept.

The wind was picking up. Something moved in the dark.

It’s here. It’s after me.

Jemma’s breath began to shallow. She had no weapons, no memory of why she was here. How long had she been here?

A hand reached for her in the darkness and she screamed. The shadowed face of the LMD, his eyes hollow, reached for her.

“Jemma, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Stay away from me!”

She scrambled backward, her fingers flailing in the dirt for something to grasp. She found fire, and grabbed it, and threw. Hot coals seared her skin, but the monster covered its face and she had time to run.

So she did.

Jemma ran flat-out, single-minded. She careened across the sand, her feet barely stumbling through this horrifically familiar landscape. Sand, and rocks, and fungus, her nimble legs pushed past them all. Gravity was heavier here, so she pushed harder. She pushed until she was gasping and dripping with sweat, and miles from where she’d started.

Miles and miles from where she’d started.

And it was here that she started to remember. The fire: she’d never had one here before, not above ground. The movement in the dark was not a shadow hunting her, but one of her friends. One of her team that she’d left behind. And the face - the monstrous face – it hadn’t been a monster at all, but Fitz. Just Fitz, just trying to help her.

The air began to choke her. Hyperventilating. Jemma turned on the spot, looking for help, for someone to watch her and make sure she came out of it, but there was no one. They were miles away. She was fit, and after she’d thrown God-knows-what in Fitz’s eyes she reckoned they’d given her space to breathe. Otherwise at least one of them would be here by now.

Where was here? Jemma turned and turned, rocking on her feet as she went, pulling her breathing back under control gradually as she refocused her mind. Somewhere, in her memory, she knew these hills. She knew these constellations. If she could just stop clouding them over each other and think for a minute, she would be able to figure it out. If she could just set herself this task, solve this problem, one at a time, she could make it out alive.

She was still staring at the stars when, a few minutes later, laboured footsteps came into her hearing range. Heavy breathing.

“Daisy?”

(A sigh of relief. The stars would still not reveal themselves to her and even if they did, she couldn’t remember where she’d come from. Plus, she was glad enough to see a friendly face at all. She could have kissed the ground of this godforsaken place once Daisy had walked on it.)

Puffing, Daisy slowed and smiled.

“Damn, Jemma, you’re really keeping it tight,” she praised, bending over to catch her breath. “Oh, Jesus, that’s a run.”

“How far did I make it?”

“’bout three miles,” Daisy replied. “Although it’s hard to tell. I feel like I’ve been running through water.”

“It’s the gravity,” Jemma explained.

“Shit.”

Finally, Daisy straightened. She was still breathing a little heavily, but had gathered herself enough to focus. She held out Jemma’s crushed protein bar, still in its silver package.

“You dropped this,” she offered. “Are you okay? I mean… three miles. So, no.”

“Is Fitz okay?”

“You didn’t get him. It was just those little firestarter cubes and some alien bamboo type stuff, so it didn’t travel well. He’s back at camp, if you can call it that. He’s fine. Having an aneurism, figuratively, but physically he’s fine. What the hell happened back there?”

“I don’t know,” Jemma confessed, and gestured helplessly at the endless blue around them. “This place, it makes me crazy. I woke up and forgot why I was here, I forgot all of you were here, I thought Fitz was – was a nightmare, trying to hurt me. There are things here Daisy…. Creatures…. Even I don’t fully understand what goes on here but the only thing you can do is run, so, that’s what I did.”

“So I’ll tell everyone you’re alive then?”

“Can’t. No cell service. Or radio waves of any kind.”

“Right. Guess it’s a walk for us then.”

“I guess so.”

In silence, the two of them headed back the way they had come. Jemma’s eyes dropped back to the dirt and she kicked a stray stone along. She was going back to the same place, physically as well as mentally now, and for a second she was so outraged at the whole situation that she kicked the stone so hard that it flew up a nearby hill. Fury burned through Jemma’s veins as she turned her thoughts on their careless captors. She didn’t even know what they wanted. They could have sent a probe to do this. The last team that had been sent here really had gone crazy and killed each other. At least the last people that had tortured her outright had had the gall to be properly sadistic about it. This was just pointless.

Unless.

She stopped.

Daisy stopped too, and frowned, but just as she was about to ask what was going on, Jemma surged after the stone to the top of the hill.

(She followed it for the view. That horizon line. That shining star she realised, all of a sudden, that she recognised. It was the one that had led her to the No Fly Zone: to the skeleton and the husk of a society long since gone. She wondered if the monument Fitz had seen was near that place. She wondered if they would ever escape Hydra’s shadow. Maybe not. But maybe they could escape this place, and that was a start.)

Jemma turned her head to the sky again and this time, her face lit up: not quite with joy, but relief, and purpose. Recognition. Eagerly, she spun on her heel to face Daisy, and declared:

An awkward few seconds pass as Jemma waits for him to shake her hand, until Daisy finally swoops in and takes it. “Hi, I’m Daisy. This weirdo here is Fitz,” she says, giving him an exasperated look. “We live just around the corner.” Jemma smiles at Daisy. “Oh, lovely! This is my first week here at the market. I’ve been working mostly out of my apartment, just a few blocks away, doing small orders.” She looks over at Fitz shyly. “Would you like to try a churro?”

Fitz finally shakes out of his haze enough to nod. “S-Sure,” he stutters, inwardly cursing at his overt awkwardness. Jemma grabs some tissue paper and picks out a churro from the plate. As he goes to take it from her, she pulls it back, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Now,” she says faux-seriously, “you must give me your honest feedback. Consider this a taste test of sorts.” Fitz chuckles at her joke and nods very solemnly as he takes the churro. “It will be the most important job I’ve ever done,” he jokes back, adding in a wink. He looks over at Daisy, who’s giving him a strange look. Maybe she also wants a churro, he thinks. “OK, fine, I’ll split it with you,” he tells her, nodding to the churro.

Daisy shakes her head a bit. “Okaaaaay,” she says slowly, eyes shifting back and forth between Fitz and Jemma. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Fitz quickly splits the churro in half and hands Daisy her piece. They both take a bite at the same time and simultaneously groan in delight. “Bloody hell,” Fitz comments, his mouth still full. The perfect mix of cinnamon and sugar melt on his tongue as he chews on the deliciously soft, flakey dough. Jemma’s eyes light up as she sees how much they are enjoying the baked good. “Holy shit,” Daisy agrees, stuffing the rest of the churro into her mouth. “These are fucking incredible!” She pulls out her wallet. “We’re buying all of these. The other customers can deal with it.”

“Brilliant!” Jemma exclaims as she claps her hands together. “My first week and I sell out of a product within three hours. You two are by far my favorite customers.” As she reaches for a box, Fitz asks, “How did you figure out such a perfect recipe??” Jemma smiles as she packages up the churros. “A secret recipe that I’ll take to my grave.” Fitz laughs as she continues, “I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to my recipes. I spend hours and hours in my kitchen, or my lab as I like to call it, coming up with the perfect mix. I’d like to think of it as more of a science than an art, honestly.” She turns to Fitz, and he notices a slight blush spreading to her cheeks as she hands him the box. “I’m so pleased you like them.” Fitz takes the box and their fingers brush against each other, causing a small current of electricity to travel up his arm. He sucks in a breath as he looks up at her. The surprised look on her face makes him thinks she must feel it too. As he finds himself getting increasingly lost in her gaze (and not minding one bit), he’s pulled out of his reverie by Daisy pulling on his arm. “OK, hon, let’s get these home and devour them!” He swears he sees a flash of confusion in Jemma’s eyes and her smile falter just a bit, but then she shakes her head and pulls her hand away. “Of course. Enjoy the churros. Thanks so much again!” she says, waving at them as they walk away. “Be sure to visit again next week!” she continues. Daisy waves back and turns around, shouting over her shoulder, “Oh, we will!”

---

“A little eager to get to the market this week, are we?” Daisy teases as she tries to keep up with Fitz’s pace. He blushes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just excited to see what’s available this week.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean who’s available this week?” Fitz’s blush deepens to a crimson red. “Ah ha! I knew it!” Daisy shouts, jabbing him in the shoulder with her finger. “You have a crush on Bakery Girl!!”

Fitz stops in his tracks and wildly looks around to see if anyone heard. Thankfully, they’re still a block from the market. “Her name is Jemma, Daisy,” he whispers furiously. “Or at least call her Bakery Woman,” he chides, smiling a bit at the name. They start walking again as Daisy lowers her voice to match Fitz’s. “I knew it. I could totally sense it from that first encounter. Call her whatever you want, Fitzy. You, my dear friend, have a crush.”

Fitz scoffs. “Ha! A crush. That’s… that’s just wild, Daisy. Just… just…. just because she’s gorgeous and smart and funny and extremely talented…” his eyes glaze over a bit as he remembers their last encounter. It’s been three weeks since they first encountered Jemma and her irresistible… churros. Daisy and Fitz had made it a point to visit her each week and try different goods, striking up easy conversation between the three of them. Every time they left her stand, Fitz had a box of some new savory or sweet treat in his hand and butterflies in his stomach. There was no denying he was developing feelings for Jemma. He just didn’t know what to do about them yet. He kept waiting for an opening, some stronger indication that she was also interested, but almost every time he thought he’d found it- an extra long glance, an unnecessary touch of his arm or brush of the fingers- it wasn’t quite enough to convince him she was interested in more than friendship. But this will be their fourth encounter, and he is committed to figuring this out. He just doesn’t want his well-intentioned, but overly-helpful friend to catch on too much. She’d surely say something obvious and embarrassing and ruin his whole plan...whatever that plan may be...

Daisy smiles. “Oh my god, this is precious. You and Bakery Gir… sorry, Bakery Woman. I love it. I can’t wait to tell Trip!” Fitz looks at her pointedly. “Are you also going to tell your health nut boyfriend about all of the pastries you’ve been consuming every Sunday?” Daisy laughs, unaffected by his veiled threat. “A girl has to keep a few secrets, Fitz,” she says as she waves him off. He pulls her arm to stop her right before they reach Jemma’s stall. “Then let’s make a deal- I’m happy to keep your little secret from Trip if you promise to just leave me be when it comes to Jemma. I have a plan.” Daisy scoffs at him and rolls her eyes. “One, you’re not doing me any favors, tell Trip for all I care. And B, I’m offended that you think I’d mess this up for you. You’re surely capable of doing that yourself,” she teases. Fitz opens his mouth to protest, but Daisy stops him, “But,” she continues, “message received. You do your thing. Just remember that I call dibs as a groomswoman for the wedding,” she winks at him. He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Daisy…” he warns, but she’s already walking the rest of the way towards the stall.

“Hiiiii Jemma,” she singsongs as they approach the stall. Fitz nudges her and gives her a stern look while Daisy smiles innocently. “Oh, my favorite customers!” Jemma says as she smiles warmly at Fitz. “Beautiful day for the market, isn’t it?” Daisy nods. Fitz takes the opportunity to throw a line out there to see how Jemma reacts. “I don’t know, it feels like we’ve got something magnificent right here…” he starts, throwing his best attempt at a flirty smile towards Jemma. Her nose crinkles as she smiles back at him, giving him a look he can’t quite decipher. But as soon as he thinks he has it, she breaks her gaze. “Oh, you mean the pastries!” she says, gesturing towards the trays of goods in front of her. Fitz deflates a bit. “Ah, no… actually, that’s… that’s not…” he stammers, cheeks flushing. “Snickerdoodles!” Daisy exclaims in an attempt to save Fitz from sputtering out anymore nonsense. “Look, Fitz!”

Jemma smiles at them and nods towards the cookies. “Here’s a little secret,” she starts, looking around to make sure no one else is listening, “snickerdoodles are my favorite cookie.” Daisy nods appreciatively. “They’re like churros in cookie form,” she adds. Jemma looks surprised at the comparison, “Huh. I’d never actually thought of that before, but you’re totally right,” she muses. “Maybe there’s something there for a future new baked good…” She pulls out her phone and records a quick note to herself, “Snickerdoodles and churros. Commonalities?”

Fitz feels even more affection surge through his veins as he sees her thoughtfully considering Daisy’s comment. “Uh, actually,” he starts, “I’ve never had snickerdoodles before. Growing up, my mum would always do the standard chocolate chip cookies. I used to love helping her mix the batter… and then clean the bowl with a spoon,” he says, grinning lopsidedly. Jemma looks over at him as she hands Daisy a cookie and says, “What an adorable story! I didn’t know you were such a good helper,” she says jokingly.

Fitz recognizes another in and goes for it. “Well, Jemma,” he says, concentrating all of his energy into sounding smoother and more suave than he’s ever actually felt, “there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he continues, lowering one hand to the table in a desperate attempt to look casual and flirty. He is too caught in the amused glint in Jemma’s eyes to notice the placement of his hand until he feels it connect with something wet and creamy… something decidedly not table-like. He chokes on a strangled gasp as he looks down at the beautiful tray of tiramisu that he had just put his hand into. He hears Jemma and Daisy both gasp at the same time. As he frantically pulls his hand away, he hits the edge of the tray with just the right amount of force to send the entire tray flipping over itself and unto the dirt ground of the market.

Shock and embarrassment flood his senses as his cheeks flush red and his hands begin to sweat. “Oooooh no….” he starts, unable to think of anything else to say, “no, no, no, no, no….” Daisy stares at Fitz, completely dumbstruck, and looks over at Jemma, who has both hands covering her mouth in shock, eyes wide. For an agonizing moment, no one says anything as they continue to look between each other and the mess on the ground. Finally, Daisy breaks the silence as she bursts into laughter. “Ooooooh myyyy godddd, Fitz,” she says, gasping for air as she doubles over. He gives a frantic look to Daisy and then looks over at Jemma, shocked to find that while her hand is still covering her mouth, she is now trying to hold back her own giggles. Fitz feels as though he’s in another dimension- how could either of them find such a mortifyingly embarrassing thing so funny??

Their laughter just adds to his frantic confusion. “How...how much were all of these?” Fitz asks, wildly gesturing to the mess on the ground. “I’ll… I’ll pay double... no, triple!” Jemma wipes the tears from her eyes as her laughter settles down. “Really, Fitz, it’s no big deal. An honest accident.” Fitz can barely hear her for the buzzing in his ears. He immediately drops to the ground, unfazed by the dirt surrounding him, and starts to clean up the now destroyed treats. He scoops the smashed, dirty cakes up on the tray and stands up, looking helpless and lost. In the distance, he hears a click and turns to see Daisy taking pictures of him and giggling. “Daisy!” he hisses, barely keeping his temper in check. “This isn’t funny!” So much for being smooth and suave, Fitz realizes. Surely he’s blown any shot he had with Jemma, he thinks dejectedly.

He feels a hand on his arm and realizes Jemma has stepped around from behind the table (the first time she’s done that, he distantly thinks). Through his mortification, he still feels a pleasant warmth in his stomach at the contact, even though he can feel the iciness of her hands through his shirt. “Fitz,” she repeats calmly and he looks into her eyes. “Breathe. It really is ok, I promise.” He starts to slow his breathing down, trying to match it with hers as his heart rate begins to slow. “I am so, so sorry, Jemma,” he whispers, unable to tear his eyes from her. “Please, please tell me how I can make this up to you,” he begs.

“Fitz, really,” she says, “it was all an accident. It’s no big deal.” Fitz shakes his head, “No, no. I don’t know much about baking, but tiramisu must take a long time to make. I insist on paying for all of them,” he says. He reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and finds nothing there. He anxiously pats down all of his pockets as the color drains from his face. “Ah…” he starts, stammering as a new wave of embarrassment crashes over him, “And…. haha, wouldn’t you… wouldn’t you know it? It seems I left my…ah… my wallet at home…” he says sheepishly, digging both hands into his (empty) back pockets and rocking on the heels of his feet. He looks over at Daisy. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to spot me, Daisy?” he asks, imploring her with his eyes to please, for the love of god, save him.

Daisy pauses for a moment in thought and her eyes suddenly brighten with an idea. “Actually, Fitz,” she starts, trying to communicate with her eyes that he should play along, “you know what would be even better? You should help Jemma make some replacement treats for next week! Work off your debts.” Certain that Jemma won’t want him anywhere near her or her… baked goods… Fitz dismisses Daisy immediately. “Um, no… I… I would surely just get in the way….” He looks over at Jemma to gauge her reaction. “Right?” he asks. Jemma smiles and shrugs. “Actually, it could be quite fun to have some helpers. And you did say you helped your mum, so I’d say you have some promise as a sous baker. Maybe this Wednesday? Daisy, of course you could come too…” she trails off. Fitz inwardly cringes as he feels himself being solidly placed in the Friend Zone. He waves goodbye to any chances he had with Jemma, consigned to his fate as being the quirky, anxious friend.

Daisy waves Jemma off. “Oh, I’d love to, but I’ve got a Trip thing,” she says. “Oh,” Jemma says surprised. “Where are you going on your trip?” Daisy gives her a confused look for a beat and then realizes the misunderstanding. “Oh!” she laughs. “No. Trip is my boyfriend. He has a work thing that I’m going to,” she says while she takes her water bottle from her bag. Now it’s Jemma’s turn to look confused. “I’m sorry, your boyfriend?” she asks, curiously as Daisy takes a sip of water. “I… I thought you two….” she gestures between Fitz and Daisy. “Are you two not together?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. “What?!” Fitz squawks as Daisy almost chokes on her water. “No. No. No, definitely not. Not at all, no, no,” Fitz says, waving his hands back and forth dramatically. “Me and Daisy?? Oh wow… just… no, no, no. I would never… I mean, wow… never….” Daisy puts a hand on Fitz’s shoulder to interrupt his tirade. “What Fitz is trying to say without insulting me too much,” she starts, giving him serious side eye, “is that we’re just friends and roommates. I’ve been with Trip for a few years now and Fitzy here,” she squeezes his shoulder for emphasis and waggles her eyebrows at Jemma, “is single and very available.” Fitz blanches at Daisy’s overtness and becomes instantly interested in the ground, fighting every instinct to look at Jemma to gauge her reaction.

Jemma’s demeanor changes as she takes in this new information. “Oh. Well, then,” she says, almost to herself, “that certainly does change things.” Fitz isn’t quite sure he heard what she said, so he looks up to find her looking at him with a shy affection. Her cheeks begin to pink a bit as she opens her mouth a few times and stops. She rolls her eyes at herself and he sees her resolve something in her head. “Well, then. Maybe… maybe it could be a date?” she asks, trying hard to look casual herself.

Fitz feels the immediate whiplash of having just accepted his fate as a friend and now Jemma’s proposition. “A…a date?” he asks, incredulously. Jemma’s smile falters a bit and Daisy hip checks Fitz and shoots a frustrated look his way. “Right!” he exclaims a little too loudly, finally righting himself into a world where Bakery Woman is actually asking him out on a date. “Yes. Yes, a date. I’d… I’d like that very much… I mean, if you… if you would like it…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck nervously with one hand. Jemma’s smile brightens. “Yes,” she says, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, I would like it very much.” She nervously tucks a piece of hair behind her ears and Fitz feels himself falling even more for her. A moment passes as they stare at each other with identical goofy grins plastered on their faces. Daisy looks back and forth between the two of them and rolls her eyes. “Sooo….this would be where you exchange numbers,” she instructs them exasperatedly.

---

Just a few days later, Fitz finds himself in front of Jemma’s door step, fidgeting with his Daisy-approved outfit of a light blue button-down shirt and dark jeans (“Fitzy, trust me. Blue is your color,” she assured him). While the fact that Jemma declared this a date settled the ambiguity of it, he still feels his nerves short-circuiting over the fact that he wants it to be perfect. Maybe perfect is an overshoot, he thinks. Just let it go well enough that she’s willing to do this again, he prays to the cosmos. Finally determining that it’s now or never, he knocks on her door and holds his breath, waiting for her to answer. When she opens the door, all the air leaves his lungs at the sight of the huge smile on her face. She’s dressed in a pair of grey jeans with a loose white t-shirt, her hair down and falling just past her shoulders. “Fitz! Hi! Right on time. Color me impressed,” she says, looking down and tucking her hair behind her ear. Fitz gives a nervous smile and shrugs. “I figured I should start earning points right away before you witness my rubbish baking skills…” He looks down and scratches the back of his neck nervously, summoning the courage to continue. “Ah…I also may have been really looking forward to this all week…” he looks up at her with a lopsided grin and is greeted with an even bigger smile. “Well,” Jemma breathes. “That makes two of us.” They wait a beat, both giving each other dopey smiles until Jemma shakes her head. “Oh dear, I’m a terrible host,” she starts, “perhaps maybe I should invite you in?” Fitz chuckles and nods. “Oh. Sure. That would be nice.” Jemma opens her door wider and Fitz steps into the apartment.

---

After a quick tour in which Fitz tried his hardest not to scrutinize every artifact he saw that would give him more insight into Jemma and her life, they now find themselves in the kitchen. They had fallen into easy conversation during the tour, which helped dissipate the nerves they were both experiencing. Fitz couldn’t help commenting when seeing some of his favorite books in her bookshelf, and Jemma excitedly engaged him in debate over various topics, including the best Doctor Who seasons. Now in the brightly lit kitchen, Fitz sees a number ingredients, bowls, and measuring spoons all lined up very neatly on the counter. He’s not at all surprised to see how organized Jemma is about her baking, and he adds it to the list of adorable traits that he finds irresistible. Jemma turns to him, smiling shyly and gesturing at the set up. “As you can see, I have a bit of a process…” Fitz chuckles and nods. “I wouldn’t expect any less, honestly. So,” he continues, “how shall I be paying off my debts of utter and complete idiocy?” She looks at him with fond exasperation as she pulls her hair back. “Honestly, Fitz, it’s no big deal. I mean, I’m not going to complain about the opportunity to invite you over…” she blushes slightly, pausing for a moment, “but truly, it’s no problem at all.” Fitz smiles back at her and another moment passes with the two of them looking fondly at each other with what Daisy would call “heart eyes”.

“So,” Jemma continues, clearing her throat, “I thought we could start a little easy this time.” Fitz’s heart skips a beat at the insinuation that she expects this to happen again. Jemma continues, “I thought maybe we could do chocolate chip cookies? Since… since you mentioned making them when you were younger, I thought it’d be good to start with something familiar.” Fitz smiles, touched at how much thought she had put into this. “Yeah,” he nods, “that sounds great. I’m much less likely to completely mess something like that up.”

Jemma laughs and Fitz decides right there that he wants to spend the rest of his days making her laugh. “Right, then,” she says, gesturing over to the flour, sugars, and baking soda. “Why don’t you combine the dry ingredients while I work on the wet ones?” Fitz nods, “Sounds good.” As he approaches the ingredients, he hears Jemma gasp, “Oh wait!” He freezes in his spot, terrified that he’s already messed something up before he even gets started. He turns to look at her. “Aprons!” she states, matter-of-factly. “We can’t do a proper baking job without them!” Fitz smiles in relief. “Ah,” he admits, placing his hands in his front pockets with a sheepish look on his face, “I may have forgotten to bring my own apron…” he trails off, not ready to admit that he doesn’t even own one. “Oh, that’s not a problem,” Jemma states, waving him off as she opens the door to her pantry. “A side effect of being a baker is that you amass quite a lot of aprons. It seems to be the go-to gift from all my family and friends. Hmmm…” she says thoughtfully from behind the door. “Ah!” she exclaims, coming out with two aprons. “I’ll let you choose,” she says, holding two aprons behind her back. “Left or right?” Fitz looks at her and pretends to mull it over. “Hmmm….” He says, stroking his chin and looking up. Jemma laughs. “Left,” Fitz says decisively. She pulls her left hand from behind her back to hold up an apron in the shape of the Tardis. Fitz laughs, his affection for this perfect woman deepening even more. “Good choice!” she affirms. “That leaves me with this.” She holds up an apron with the periodic table on the front and Fitz’s heart melts at the adorable nerdiness.

Fitz takes his apron, but then quickly recognizes an opportunity in front of him. “May I?” he asks, gesturing towards her apron. Jemma gives him a confused look. “Do you want this apron instead?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. “Oh. No,” Fitz says, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment over not being quite smooth enough. “I, ah, I was just thinking...if you needed help...with your apron….” he trails off. Jemma’s confusion continues, “But why would I need help with my apron? Fitz, you do know I know how an apron works, right?” Fitz gives a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes and pinching his nose, “Yep, yeah, no, of course you do,” he stumbles, “I… ah…. I….” he finally gives up and looks at her, “I was just looking for an opportunity to get closer to you,” he mumbles quickly. 

Jemma’s eyes go wide. “Oh,” she whispers. An awkward few seconds pass as they stand there, holding onto their aprons, looking at each other. Jemma then looks down at her apron. “Actually,” she says slowly, “I could use a little help…” She looks up at him, giving him a small, encouraging smile as she raises one eyebrow. “These aprons are a little trickier than they look…” she says, shrugging.

Fitz let’s out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He sets his apron on the counter and takes a step towards her as she pulls the apron over her neck. “Maybe you could help tie these?” she asks, holding the two ends of the apron tie out helplessly. Fitz, not trusting his ability to speak, simply nods as she turns around so that her back is to him. He delicately takes the two ends and ties them around her back, letting his hands rest for a moment on her waist. “OK?” he’s able to croak out. While his hands remain on her waist, she turns around in them to face him, invading his space. “Yes,” she whispers, eyes flickering down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. “You’re quite, ahem, quite good at that,” she continues, smiling and placing her hands on his chest. Fitz licks his lips as he takes a step closer, pulling Jemma closer and allowing her to slide her hands up his chest and connect behind his neck. His chest buzzes with excitement as they both instinctively inch towards each other, slowly closing the remaining space between them. As he molds his lips to hers, he inhales, noticing that even her lips taste sweet. Jemma’s hands thread through his hair as her tongue tentatively darts out to seek entry into his mouth. Fitz can’t help the quiet moan that settles in his throat as he tilts his head to the side to allow her tongue entry. He grips her waist tighter as the kiss deepens and as he begins to move her towards the counter, a sharp Bing! startles him. They both break the kiss and gasp at the sudden sound, heads both whipping towards the source. Jemma immediately relaxes and laughs, her forehead resting lightly on his shoulder. “That would be the oven, telling us it’s done preheating,” she giggles. Fitz can’t help but laugh as well, his nerves calming as he feels her laugh against his chest.

Jemma looks up at him and sighs. “I suppose… maybe we should…” she gestures over to the counter. Fitz nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, of course. That… that was nice, though,” he says, looking down at her lips again. She smiles in agreement. “Very nice. And….well… maybe we can revisit that once the cookies are baking?” Fitz nods vigorously in agreement, unashamed of his enthusiasm. “Absolutely,” he says, smiling. “Right then,” Jemma states as she moves to slowly release herself from their embrace. “Now, don’t think I’m going to take it easier on you just because you’re a fantastic kisser,” she teases shyly. Fitz blushes at the implication and before he can defer the compliment, she gives him one last quick kiss before fully pulling away.

The rest of the day consists of not-so-hidden glances snuck between the two, lingering touches, and invading each other’s space whenever an opportunity arose, and even when it didn’t (Jemma’s claim of needing to help Fitz learn the right way to stir while standing behind him and holding both of his hands to guide him was especially blatant). And, of course, as promised, the moment the cookies are placed in the oven, Jemma immediately pulls Fitz to her by his apron and crashes her lips into his. They stand there, hands roaming and tongues exploring each other’s mouths, as the cookies bake behind them. As the air starts to fill with the smell of baked cookies, Fitz dimly realizes in the back of his mind as Jemma’s hands clutch his shirt tightly that he may never be able disassociate this smell with Jemma’s sweet lips, and he realizes he doesn’t quite mind that at all. Another beep eventually breaks their makeout session and they sheepishly pull away as Jemma grabs the oven mitts to pull out the cookies to cool.

Later that night, after enjoying the fruits of their labor with one of Jemma’s favorite teas, followed by a particularly fantastic snogging session on her couch, Fitz finds himself walking home with a little extra lightness to him. Once home, he finds Daisy in the living room on her laptop. He strolls in and sets a small box of cookies next to her. “A small thank you gift for your role in setting this whole thing up,” he explains, blushing. Daisy gives him a knowing grin. “Sweet! So, when can I expect Bakery Babies?” she teases. Fitz laughs as he blushes even more and looks to the floor. “Ah, maybe we just take it one thing at a time. Date number two is dinner later this week,” he says, grinning, unable to hide his excitement. “Nice!” Daisy exclaims, giving him a high five.