#simmorse fic

Jemma's gaze is sharp and merciless, like she wishes to vivisect her, pry her open with those suspiciously gentle touches she cannot help but question. Unlike what many may believe, she would not encounter the cogs and wires of machinery but the repulsive ooze of festering wounds that never quite healed.

I'm not broken, Bobbi tells the mirror, before her knuckles crack the glass surface and her distorted image stares back mockingly. The impact splits her skin and for the rest of the day she flexes her fingers to remind herself not to lose control. She knows how to kill efficiently and without hesitation but wonders how she's expected to win this battle when she's at war with herself.

There is blood on her hands the first time Jemma calls her by her first name and it's been there ever since. She tries to be a better person. When they lie in the dark, Jemma's small body pressed against her own, she thinks she might have succeeded. But dawn is not the only thing that breaks.

Jemma is too good for her. They both know it. But when she looks up to see Jemma stumble into the kitchen at four in the morning, wondering where she is, her hair a mess and face creased where it had been pressed against her pillow, Bobbi realizes it's too late for either of them. She holds out her hand and Jemma takes her arm, moving it around her narrow shoulders as she curls up next to Bobbi on a couch that shouldn't be big enough for two. Jemma's elbow digs into her ribs as she squirms to get more comfortable, but somehow they make it work.

Bobbi tries to be honest with her, even though she's always poised to lie. She knows there are secrets between them, but they aren't hidden, only locked away in boxes made out of shame. Every now and then, when Jemma's smile is so unguarded her breath catches in her throat, Bobbi lets her take a peek. She waits for disgusted glances, but Jemma's eyes are wells of sympathy and undeclared affection.

Bobbi considers the words when Jemma spills tea all over her lap and curses because it's the harshest she's ever seen her and that, she thinks, says everything.

They don't let Bobbi out of their sight the first year after she defects. Their eyes are pools of distrust and she feels as if she's drowning, the whole world around her foreign and fragile—always one wrong move away from being executed.

When they first meet, she's tangibly aware of how different they are. Jemma preforms the check up with professional ease, her touches hold no hatred as she stitches Bobbi's wounds, her eyes devoid of the fear and disgust that seems to follow her around. Jemma smiles politely when she's finished and it's the first friendly gesture Bobbi''s seen since setting foot on the base. It unsettles her, and for the next few months she tries to avoid getting shot. Her opponents are less than considerate.

Bobbi knows they don't have much in common. Jemma's been trained to heal, she's been raised to kill. But there's a certain loneliness in those kind eyes she recognizes, and when they come together, Bobbi feels as if she can deal with this exposure. Jemma takes her apart and puts her back together as if she is one of her projects. It's so effortless Bobbi cannot help but resent her for it.

One evening, when they're still coming to terms with whatever they have between them, Jemma tells her she cannot save her, Bobbi has to do it herself. She doesn't tell Jemma it's too late for that, that she's done too many bad things, taken too many lives. The truth is, Bobbi's not looking for forgiveness or absolution, won't even consider peace of mind, she only wants a chance to do some good for a change, something that feels right. And if that is with an organisation she used to oppose, so be it. She's not convinced about her choice, not invested in their ideals, but she'll try, because Jemma is.

It didn't take Bobbi long to realize she will always be a part of Hydra, even if she is a traitor, because she's never known anything else. She's not ready to let go of her past, and neither, so it would seem, are her new allies.

Faces contort in righteous fury, knuckles pressing accusations into her skin with every blow. She twists away from their reach, punches and kicks. One of the agents shoots her in upper thigh, she snaps his arm. Only Agent May's influence saves her from that. The older woman sounds tired when she tells her to blend better. Bobbi nods and says she'll keep her head down but knows they'll only be satisfied once she loses it.

Bobbi smirks and places the two guns on the table after double-checking that the safety is on and hangs her own earmuffs around her neck. “I’m just trying to blow off some steam. I don’t really need the practice, you know,” she answers with a wink and cracks her neck. Jemma holds her breath for a second. She should stop staring and focus on target practice, but suddenly her tongue seems to have lost all communication with her brain, and her mouth just starts forming words. It’s never a good thing when that happens, Jemma knows this, but when it happens there’s no stopping her.

“Right. I know, you are very... well practiced. You know, firing bullets, chasing bad guys and knocking them dead!”

“Is this your way of asking for my help, Simmons?” Bobbi asks then, smiling widely and retrieving the target from the back of the room. Not that Jemma had missed a lot, but her shots weren’t exactly accurate either. Maybe she was just bound to be a scientist and not a specialist, but then again: Bobbi also had a PhD. Maybe she should learn how to fire shots, in case things went south at any given point. Maybe, or she could just pray that Bobbi would be there to swoop in and save the day again. She should really stop thinking about that so much.

“I... Maybe you could give me some pointers... Obviously you’re fine... You’re great, actually. Anyway, how could I improve?”

Bobbi shakes her head lightly. Is Jemma flirting with her? If she is, this is a very poor attempt at doing so, but if she isn’t, then why is she blushing? Surely Bobbi had found herself slacking around the lab more than necessary, trying to find ways to talk to Jemma, which was surprisingly easy as she seemed eager to talk to Bobbi about pretty much everything. About science, mostly, which got her awfully excited, but Bobbi enjoyed herself. She also found herself there when she came back injured yet again, while she would usually have gone to Mack for patching up, or do it herself. She didn’t have to be there, but she wanted to, she wanted to spend time around the scientist. So she just came up with lame excuses as to why she would be in the lab yet again, but Jemma didn’t seem to find it that strange. At least, she never asked questions or mentioned it to her. She didn’t actually think that Jemma was into her, too, thinking that she wasn’t showing any usual signs of affections, but then again it was Jemma Simmons they were talking about: nothing with Jemma was ‘the usual’. She did say she was amazing.

“Stance is everything,” Bobbi decides then, winging it completely at this point, “here let me show you.”

“I watched you do it, but... Oh... Okay,” Jemma says when Bobbi picks her up with ease and puts her in front of a new target, pressing a loaded gun in her hands and running her fingers back up along her arms. “Solid grip, it should almost hurt, but relax your shoulders.”

Bobbi’s hands rest on Jemma’s shoulders lightly and squeezes. She gulps. “Okay.”

“Got it?”

“I guess? I mean, yes, totally. Obviously I’m learning from the best.”

“Time firing with your breathing. There’s a pause between each breath and that’s when you pull the trigger. Earmuffs on, here...” Bobbi puts both their earmuffs on and she rolls her eyes. Jemma looks absolutely adorable like this, while being positively lethal. She smiles sheepishly at Bobbi, but then puts on a serious face and tries to time her breathing. The bullets hit the target and Jemma is surprised at how much she already seems to have improved, but then again maybe it was beginners luck. It probably was.

She puts the safety on and places down the gun before excitedly taking off her earmuffs. “That was amazing! You’re amazing! I mean... an amazing teacher, of course, Bobbi. Thank you.”

“No problem. Practice makes perfect, Jemma, but it seems you’re already nearly there.” Bobbi winks and moves to a separate booth to shoot her other mag empty, leaving Jemma strangely baffled.

“Skye, I need your advice.”

She looks up from where she’s sitting on the couch under a blanket with her laptop, working on some programming for Coulson when Bobbi requires her attention.

“Yeah, sure. What is it?”

“It’s Simmons,” Bobbi says promptly and lifts Skye’s feet into her lap so that she can sit down next to her. There’s a light frown on Bobbi’s forehead and Skye smiles lopsidedly.

“Jemma?” Skye asks with a raise of her eyebrow and shuts her laptop, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. She has been acting... different? I mean, I like her a lot and you know that, but I never thought there would be anything else, you know?” Bobbi talks with a wild hand gesture that should somehow make her point clearer, but to be honest, Skye had heard this before. Bobbi never quite admitted that she liked Jemma like that, but Skye knew. She knew from the way she would stall in the lab, how she would let Jemma take a look at the littlest of scrapes she had from field-missions, how she would talk science with Jemma. She just knew. Her eyes lit up, and there was this typical smile when Bobbi talked about her best friend.

“I don’t know. I was working in the gym and I could kinda hear you through the air ducts. It sounded like she was flirting with you, Morse.” Skye grins when Bobbi rolls her eyes. “You were just eaves dropping.”

“I wasn’t, I swear. You should talk to her.”

“I can’t. You talk to her.” A brief second of pure panic flashes over Bobbi’s face when Skye mentions talking to Jemma about her feelings, because who does that, right? It makes Skye want to roll her eyes.

“Why should I talk to her? You’re the one who likes her, not me,” Skye says and pokes her with her toes, “or are you scared of a tiny scientist?”

“I’m not. I just need to know what it is that she’s doing. I heard she once shot a SO in the chest after telling him he had a gorgeous head... So I need to know if I need to worry,” Bobbi says and gets up again. “Please talk to her. I need to know if she likes me back.”

“Fine, but not tonight. I need to finish coding this shit for AC.”

“Thanks, rockstar.”

“Skye, I need your advice,” Skye hears for the second time that evening and she quirks an eyebrow yet again.

“What am I now, Dr. Phil?” she questions with a laugh but pats the empty spot next to her, “spill your beans, Jemma Simmons.”

“It’s Agent Morse.”

“Bobbi?”

“Do you know another Agent Morse, Skye?” Jemma asks with a frantic wave of her hand. “Anyway, so I was at target practice this morning, and I ran into Bobbi.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“How?”

Skye waves her hand as well, ushering her to continue. “Doesn’t matter. What’s up?”

“Yes, okay. Well, I think,” Jemma looks around her suspiciously, “that maybe Bobbi was flirting with me?”

“Is that a bad thing?” Skye asks and Jemma buries her face in her hands. “I don’t know. I... I don’t know? I mean... We’ve talked about this, right? I don’t know if this is just Bobbi being Bobbi. You know how she is. She flirts with everyone, she even had her rendez-vous with Hunter even though they have been divorced until forever. She doesn’t seem to be opposed to kissing team-mates, as she kissed you in that one drunk dare –“ Jemma rambles and Skye snorts. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“As if you would forget something like that.”

“I certainly remember kissing you, though,” Skye says and laughs when Jemma hits her leg playfully. “I’m being serious here.”

“So, what do you want me to do, then? I mean, do you like her?”

“I don’t know?”

“Then what exactly are you asking me, Jem, because you’re confusing me a lot and I have programming to do for Coulson,” Skye says and points at the computer that is now standing on the coffee table. Lines of code fill the screen and Jemma frowns at it momentarily, unable to figure out what exactly it is that Skye is building.

“Right. I... Has she said anything to you? I mean, I know the two of you are pretty close nowadays.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Jem. You like her, don’t you? You’re just trying to squeeze anything out of me, see if she likes you back, see if she said anything to me. Oh my god, you have a crush on Bobbi Morse and you’re too afraid to say anything about it.”

For a second Jemma tries to splutter a counter-argument. She tries to say something that will cover up the blush that has settled on her cheeks and hide the fact that she is lying, but she also knows that Skye isn’t stupid and is in fact a spy trained by no one less than Melinda May, so she just gives up and shrugs. “Have you seen her?” Jemma hisses and Skye nods. “I have. From up close. You should ask her out.”

“I can’t. What if she says no?”

Skye shrugs. “But what if she says yes?”

Two very familiar voices sound from the lab, and this time it’s not Fitz and Simmons arguing over the weight of an ICER or dead critters in the lab. It’s Bobbi she hears working with Jemma, and for a second Skye wavers, unsure whether she should interrupt them right now or not. Nothing serious seems to be going on; they are just having fun, but when Skye appears at the doors Bobbi is leaning on the holo-table with her forearms, blatantly flirting with Jemma again, who seems to be oblivious to it all.

Pathetic morons... She has to do something. So she knocks and both girls jerk her head to where she’s standing.

“Agent Morse, can I steal you away for a moment? I need your professional opinion on a piece of surveillance I ran last night?” Skye asks and fishes her phone from her pocket. She’s very well aware of the fact that the screen is off and that if she’d press the home button they would see a doodled pink dinosaur as her background, but the scientists don’t need to know that, so she just waves the device, hoping that no one will send her a text right now.

“Yeah, sure,” Bobbi answers and follows Skye outside where they round the corner, but don’t go any further.

“Why are we standing still?” Bobbi asks and crosses her arms in front of her chest, but Skye just sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t even deal with the two of you. Okay. You have to ask her out, Bobbi. I mean honestly, you two are great together and I can’t deal with another day of Simmons giving you heart eyes while you try to make her swoon. She is oblivious and she is into you. I talked to her and she’s really into you, but you need to seal the deal, so please ask her out, because she’s too afraid that you’ll reject her.”

“She’s into me?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Barbara Morse, do I need to spell it out for you?”

Bobbi grins at her and rolls her eyes. It had become a thing between the two of them, Skye calling her by her full name whenever she thought Bobbi was being stupid. “No. I’ll do it. Thanks, Skye, you’re a – “ “Rockstar. I know. Thank you, go have fun. I’ll talk to Coulson and ensure you have the night off. Take her out for dinner; she loves sushi and will probably tell you all about sea-weed structures and all.”

Bobbi laughs and nods. “Thank you.”

The doors of the lab open with a pleasant swoosh when Bobbi walks back in with a smirk on her face.

“That was quick. I didn’t realise that Skye makes you that happy, Ms. Morse,” Jemma remarks and a sad smile appears on her lips. Maybe she had been reading into it entirely wrong. Maybe Skye had been playing with her, so that she could swoop in and conquer Bobbi as her own.

“She doesn’t, but you do,” Bobbi deadpans and Jemma raises her brows. “Excuse me?”

“I am not very good with being subtle, but you are very bad at picking up signals Jemma Simmons. I had to talk to Skye to see if you like me like that, and she told me that you do.”

“She told you that? I can’t believe she would tell you that. She is such a traitor.”

“That’s rich coming from us,” Bobbi laughs and Jemma crinkles her nose, “it’s just that I told her that I like you like that.”

“You told her that?”

“Jemma, I’m trying to ask you out on a date, will you please let me fini –”

“Yes,” Jemma blurts and Bobbi’s jaw slacks for a second, unable to entirely register what it is that Jemma is agreeing to.

“Yes, you’ll go on a date with me, or you’ll let me finish?” Bobbi asks warily and Jemma smiles.

“Both.”

Bobbi shakes her head laughing and walks over to Jemma to hug her. She has to stand up on her tippy-toes to be able to wrap her arms around Bobbi’s neck and nuzzle her face into her hair, but after a second Bobbi just doesn’t seem to care anymore and lifts her up so that her feet are dangling somewhere halfway her shins. It’s comical, but Jemma secretly likes that Bobbi is that much taller than her. Not that she’d admit that to anyone, of course. “God, you’re so tiny,” Bobbi chuckles while putting her down, earning her a well-deserved scowl from Jemma. “I can’t help that, you know. It has to do with genes and all. I mean my parents are also pretty short.”

“I know, it’s adorable. You’re adorable. I’m really happy this is happening. So, I was thinking sushi tonight? Seven-ish?” Bobbi asks and Jemma nods with the brightest smile on her cheeks. “Did Skye tell you that, too?”

“Jem.”

“Hmm?”

“Jemma.”

“Yes?”

“Look at me.” Bobbi leaned down and waved a hand in between Jemma’s magazine and her furiously reading eyes. That did little to halt her progress and only succeeded in Bobbi getting her hand batted aggressively out of the way.

“I’m trying to finish reading this article, it’s so fascinating! Apparently, a new method of--”

“Jemma, this is the first time we’ve been off-duty in months. You’re not spending all of it reading.”

“But, Bobbi--”

“Don’t ‘Bobbi’ me, Jem. We are barely forty miles from HQ and there is a beach literally right in front of us. Put down the magazine.” Jemma finally glanced up to see her blonde counterpart with her arms flung out towards the sliding glass door separating the house from the short path leading to the beach. Sand and seagrass were being rustled gently just outside the glass by a light wind as the sun glinted brightly off of an ocean that sat no more than one hundred yards away. It did look nice.

“But I’m almost done reading.”

“Jemma, you have at least five pages left. I know you are a blindingly fast reader, but I also know you stop to think about every new fact for about seven hours. Come on!” Bobbi waved her arms again and bounced a little bit in place. While fun at HQ, away from work the field agent became a much more playful, excitable person. Her sheer enthusiasm for the beach was enough to have Jemma placing her article down and rising to go change into her bathing suit.

“Fine, but I’m bringing it with me.”

“Deal!” It only takes a second for Jemma to pull her bathing suit from her suitcase (Organization, Bobbi), change, and gather her beach supplies. Bobbi is waiting for her at the door with two foldable chairs and an umbrella. A long tank top obscures her choice of bathing suit, but Jemma allows herself a long look at the toned legs peeking out from underneath the shirt’s hem. Their owner definitely noticed the oogling, but chose not to comment aside from a tiny smirk.

“Ready, Miss-Reads-A-Lot?”

“You read equally as much as me, shut up!” Bobbi laughed at her and hefted the chairs and umbrella haphazardly under her arms. They clacked against the doorway as she struggled to squeeze out without putting any of the items down. Jemma almost opened her mouth to offer help, but at this point it was a competition between Bobbi and the door. Bobbi ended up winning though, as she usually did.

They continued their short walk to the empty, private beach, funded entirely by Coulson’s decree that they needed a team getaway house without any other people around. He said it was for security reasons, but they all knew May had requested a place where she could finally do her exercises in peace and quiet. Jemma certainly wasn’t going to complain about the details. It was a beautiful little spot with pebbly sand and calm water. The way the dunes rose also kept it almost obscured from the house itself.

“Where do you want to sit?”

“Oh, that little patch over there looks lovely.” Jemma pointed to a small area of smooth sand that was just far away enough from the water that, if the tide came in, they would be dry. Bobbi lugged the chairs over to the sand and threw them down before turning to set up the umbrella. Jemma watched her going through the motions of jamming the umbrella into the sand and laying out the chairs just so and felt a swirl of butterflies erupt in her stomach. The sun was still shining down on them and falling gorgeously on Bobbi’s already tanned, well-muscled arms. It was like being on a private beach at the foot of Mount Olympus with Artemis herself and it made Jemma want to laugh out loud at the absurdity of the thought.

“How’s that?” The other woman said, turning around and dusting sand off her hands. She had to duck to fit under the umbrella and it made the butterflies in Jemma’s stomach kick into overdrive.

“It’s perfect.” Jemma said, stepping into the shade. She reached up and lightly brushed her hands along Bobbi’s jaw. The taller woman’s gaze was soft as she tracked Jemma mapping each tiny freckle on her sunkissed skin. The hands were gentle and precise, adjectives that were just so Jemma. Bobbi’s own hands migrated down to smooth across her tiny scientist’s back. It was a wonderful feeling, especially in the distinct lack of clothes Jemma currently had on.

“I love your bikini.” Bobbi whispered, toying with the suit’s strings. Jemma sighed and leaned forward, enjoying the feeling of the sand between her toes and Bobbi’s fingers on her back. Her moment of peace, however, was violently disrupted when her toes left the sand and Bobbi’s hands were holding onto her backside for dear life. A small squeak ripped from Jemma’s lips at her sudden change of height. Whole body chuckles rippled through the Bobbi’s body as she backed out from under the umbrella, brunette held firmly in her grasp. The sun beat down on Jemma’s back, warming her while she wrapped her legs more firmly around Bobbi’s hips. A soft breeze ruffled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck, but that was nothing compare to the chills Bobbi’s hands were giving her. They brushed from her shoulders to her lower back in one constant, soothing motion. Bobbi’s face was buried so deep into the crook of her neck that Jemma could feel even the slightest exhale of breath.

“How?” She asked the ocean, hands reaching up to thread through soft blonde hair. Its waves didn’t have an answer for her, they just continued to roll against the shore in time with the deep breaths each woman was taking.

“What do you mean?” Bobbi murmured. She pulled back from Jemma’s neck and looked questioningly up at her.

“How did I get this lucky? After everything...” Their foreheads touched together and it was all Jemma could do to keep from bursting into tears. She smiled at the wetness in her eyes and the butterflies in her stomach.

“I’m the lucky one.” Bobbi tightened her grip and began moving backwards across the sand.

“That is so cliché, Bobbi Morse.”

“As if yours wasn’t.”

“My apologies.” Jemma giggled. Giggling was something new, something very Bobbi-induced. They kept moving backwards until Jemma felt her ride shiver on contact with the not-quite-warm ocean water. As Bobbi kept backing up, some very brave waves began licking at Jemma’s toes.

“Don’t you drop me!” Jemma squealed.

“Never.” Came the throaty answer. Jemma brought her hands back up to loop around her chariot’s neck. Soft kisses were placed along the inside of her arms in a multitude of patterns. It was a wonder that Bobbi had held her up for this long. Sheer willpower, no doubt.

“And here we are.” Bobbi was waist deep in the water, beaming up at her like she’d discovered Atlantis.

“Thank you for bringing me here safely. And dryly.”

“Well, I kinda owe you one.”

“Why do you owe me one?”

“For loving me like you do.” She said it so simply and so quietly that the waves could have swallowed up the noise. But Jemma heard her clearly and saw the soft light in her eyes. The sun was beginning to set on the water just behind them, turning blonde hair to molten gold. The molotov cocktail of butterflies in Jemma’s stomach erupted and she surged down to kiss Bobbi’s smiling lips. She pushed as far into Bobbi as she could, desperate for contact. A slight moan broke out of one of them when Jemma tugged Bobbi’s head back to lean down and attack her neck with a flurry of kisses. They were swaying around in the ocean on an empty beach and the moment was so perfect it should have been framed. Perfect, until an abnormally large wave leapt up from the surface of the water and smacked into them at full speed. An undignified screech tunnelled its way out of Jemma’s mouth as they both wobbled and fell towards the water. Bobbi took the brunt of it, but Jemma still went under with her. For a second, everything was salt water and scrambling limbs. Then, they both found their footing, hair wet and askew, chests heaving from laughing so hard.

“You got me wet!”

“I’m more wet than you!” Bobbi laughed, reaching out a hand. Jemma took it gratefully and allowed herself to be lead out of the shallows. They trudged back up to their chairs attempting not to get sand stuck to every free bit of skin. Bobbi plopped down in her chair and began towelling off her hair with a stupid grin on her face.

“I owe you one, Bobbi Morse.” Jemma said, moving to stand in between those long, long legs.

“For what?”