Chapter Text
After the third time it happened, the snickers and giggles during roll call, Jemma couldn’t help but feel bad for this girl. First in Spanish, then in her literature class, and now in calculus, she found herself seated next to the new student who insisted that her teachers call her Skye and not the legal name printed on the attendance sheet.
Jemma didn’t blame her. Mary Sue Poots was really a rather awful name.
Right after Poots was Simmons and these three classes together was more than the number she shared with Fitz. Each time they took their assigned seats, Jemma gave the girl a light smile and observed her a little more. Everything down to her clothes and speech screamed out-of-town. But then again, Jemma didn’t know anything about her, where she came from, or her personal history. For all intents and purposes, Skye probably thought everyone in this quintessential suburban town in Massachusetts was equally as peculiar. Snobby might be the better term; Everton sort of had that kind of reputation.
As her teachers read their respective syllabi and droned on about expectations, Jemma still couldn’t get over the fact that not a single course on her schedule matched up to Fitz’s. It was near impossible considering they always took the same classes and levels, minus her Spanish studies and his preference for German. The school counselor had been so nice to her over the years and placed her in all the right blocks with almost all the right teachers. But now things had gotten a little too screwy for Jemma’s liking.
When the bell rang, she let everyone else rush out and waited back to extend a friendly hand to her seatmate.
“You have lunch next, right?” she asked Skye.
“Um…” The girl scrounged around for a badly folded piece of paper. “Well, I didn’t eaten yet and according to this, I’ve only got one more class left, so…” she deduced. “Is that what the dollar sign means?” Jemma giggled. She knew people who had been here all four years and still could not figure out their appointed lunchtimes.
“Yeah, come on. You can sit with us, if you’d like. Fitz could use a new friend,” she said as she swung her bag over her shoulder. “And I’ll tell you what the dollar signs mean.”
--
“Let me see your schedule?”
After introducing Skye and Fitz, Jemma set out to help the girl become better accustomed to student life at Everton High. Transferring as a senior couldn’t have been easy. Jemma remembered when her family moved from across the pond and starting fourth grade halfway through the school year in a new continent. With the social pressures added onto her unusual educational situation, she never quite found the right balance of both in her life which left her on the outside looking in for more than a couple of years.
Smoothing out the wrinkles of the crumpled piece of paper, she made a mental note of the classes Skye was taking before deciphering her particular periods for lunch.
“We’ve got physics together next,” Fitz commented as he looked on.
“Are you joking? How do we not have any classes together this year?” Jemma protested, finally voicing her frustration and incredulity on the subject.
“It was bound to happen, Simmons,” Fitz answered. “If you take every single class and calculate the number of–”
“I know the calculations, Fitz. But they’ve always been in our favor!” Her friend only shrugged before taking another bite out of his sandwich. Jemma sighed and turned her attention back to the other girl.
“You have third lunch everyday. Ninety-five percent of seniors do. Look.” She flipped the schedule over in hand so now it was facing Skye. “See? Dollar signs on both lunch blocks. That means third lunch.”
“One is second lunch,” Fitz chimed in.
“And none means first, but that’s what freshman get,” Jemma explained before handing the timetable back to its owner. “It only gets tricky when you have free blocks during that time. Then you can pick and choose, but it might get confusing because you can lose track how many bells have rung.”
“Right. Sure,” Skye responded and gave Jemma an appreciative smile, though her tone wasn’t quite as convincing.
Navigating through the schedule was the least of her problems. The style and attitude of Everton High might be considered an acquired taste for some people – an image that mirrored the town’s prestige. Nonetheless, high school would always be high school. There would always be homework, tests, grades, parties, recklessness, and teenagers with their angst. No one was immune to the drama that was adolescents trying to figure out the world they lived in.
--
Walking out of her counselor’s office, Jemma almost wanted to cry.
It was like a bad dream happening all over again. She would describe the situation as nightmarish without a doubt. She swore to herself that she would do whatever it took to avoid this circumstance and had carefully dodged such misery for eleven consecutive quarters. But now, she found herself trapped in the completely incompetent system that refused to enroll her in the handful of selected physical education classes she personally deemed tolerable. And it was their fault they hadn’t properly fit in her final few fitness credits in the first place.
“Guess what they put me in. Just guess,” she huffed at Fitz and Skye in the hallway once her dismay became irritation.
“Tackle football.” She shook her head.
“Volleyball.”
“So? Sounds fun,” Skye commented. Jemma rolled her eyes. After learning that Skye had been homeschooled for most of her life while bouncing between different foster homes, she didn’t expect her to understand.
“You have yet to experience the absolute unnecessary competition teenage boys with copious amounts of testosterone engage in during high school gym classes,” she explained. Even thinking about it brought out her disdainful tone.
Fitz had a free block during that period, of course he did. And that made the class all the more dreadful – knowing that there was no one she could stick it out with. Even if she could fly under the radar in the first session when the teachers just made the students congregate on the gym bleachers for the duration of the hour, no part of Jemma looked forward to subsequent classes where her volleyball skills, or lack thereof, would be put on display for everyone to see.
What made it unequivocally worse than she initially imagined? The fact that Grant Ward strolled through the doors right before the late bell rang.
As if Jemma didn’t already have enough to worry about.
--
“Who’s Grant Ward?” Skye asked.
Objectively, Grant Ward was one of the more popular guys of the senior class. Not necessarily because of his sparkling personality or adorable charm, but rather because of the sheer stature of the guy and his no-nonsense attitude. He had the brooding, bad boy manner down pat, but when he cracked one of his rare smiles, it was infectious. Good grades, good looks, played on the football team. He would be a golden boy if he participated in more activities instead of keeping to himself.
On a more personal level, he was Jemma’s neighbor and the object of her affections since the eighth grade. But no one needed to know that.
“The tall guy over there.” Jemma nudged her head in his direction and Skye’s eyes followed.
“Oh! Him? He’s in my computer science class.”
“What?!” Skye shrugged, naturally oblivious to Jemma’s interest.
“What’s the big deal?”
“Simmons is–” Fitz started, but Jemma quietly pressed down on his foot under the table before he could say anything else. Fitz might be her best friend and obviously pick up on some things, but that did not mean she openly talked to him about specific topics, especially boys.
“Just worried about having to go up against him in competition,” Jemma smoothed over. “Or worse, being on his team.”
Normally, she didn’t care about what anyone else thought. Despite her unique circumstances, she was really no different than the others. Jemma didn’t need to muddle her mind with pointless apprehension about whether her every move would be approved by the rest of the student body. The truth was that after graduation, she wouldn’t keep in contact with most all of them. She would move on, as would they, and that would be it.
But things with Grant just seemed different in her mind. She barely even knew the guy, but somehow, he was placed in a separate category – not amongst the blurred faces she would never see again or alongside people like Fitz, but in his own little space occupying her brain.
That was who Grant Ward was.
--
“So, is the pep rally a thing to actually go to or…?”
“Our school has a pep rally?” Fitz asked in genuine surprise.
“Yes, Fitz. Just because we don’t attend those kind of school functions, doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” Jemma said and rolled her eyes before answering Skye’s question. “I can’t. I have dinner with my parents.”
“Sounds serious. Whatja do?”
“Nothing!” Jemma defended as the other girl grinned. She and Skye had become friends pretty quickly, which actually proved to be an odd combination considering her tendencies to shy away from anyone and anything remotely spontaneous. “It’s just tradition. My parents always take me out to dinner on my birthday.”
“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!” Jemma shrugged. Birthdays, most holidays really, were never big events in her family. “What, no big bash to celebrate your entrance into legal adulthood?”
“Considering that she’s turning sixteen, no,” Fitz said.
“Excuse me? What?”
It wasn’t something Jemma often talked about. She didn’t see the need to. So she had skipped two grades. Fitz did too, though he had done so before Jemma did. It was common knowledge to anyone that paid any attention over the course of the past few years, but she wouldn’t put it past half her grade to not know that tidbit. Skye, being new, had not been informed until now.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was sitting with a couple of geniuses!” Skye exclaimed when they explained it to her. Jemma gave a shy smile. As much as she downplayed the entire situation, it was nice to be complimented every once in a while.
The truth was she, and Fitz, could’ve skipped more grades and probably would’ve graduated by now, but her parents didn’t want to push too hard. They wanted their only child to grow up as normally as possible, so Jemma went along with their plans. Occasionally, like when she had been bored out of her mind in AP Biology and AP Chemistry or forcefully put into volleyball class, she questioned whether it had been the right choice or not. But then again, if she had chosen to test out, she would’ve missed all the secret wonders of high school altogether.
Sometimes, not all of it was bad.
--
“So, I have something to ask you.”
Electing not to take an advanced placement language course, honors Spanish stuck Jemma with review upon review of various verb conjugations and the imperfect tense was definitely her least favorite. The homework had been fairly simple, though tediously long as evidenced by Skye’s half-finished packet she was only now completing with the help of Jemma’s answers. She felt incredibly guilty, but Skye insisted she knew the material after living with a Mexican-American family in Texas for a year.
“As long as it’s not for my math homework,” Jemma quipped. The sly grin that crept onto her friend’s face was not nearly as amusing as the girl perhaps intended.
“Besides that.”
“What?”
“Do you have a thing for Ward?”
Jemma froze for a second. Was she that obvious? Or was Skye just better at reading people than most? While to most people a silly crush was extremely common and not a big deal, Jemma would really rather keep her feelings under wraps instead of having it be public knowledge.
“No,” she denied as evenly as possible. “Why would you think that?”
“’Cause you kinda singled him out and overreacted before.”
Keeping calm, she continued to negate her affections and explained very generally her disinterest to fall into orbit with said peer and his fellow classmates. Having known Skye for a couple of weeks now, Jemma could tell she wasn’t very good at keeping secrets. And though she let that fault slide, Jemma knew she was better off denying these things. Besides, regardless of who knew, nothing would change.
Jemma wasn’t delusional. She would never be Grant Ward’s type.
--
From the library window, Jemma couldn’t help but watch an animatedly chattering Skye fall in step with Ward. They had probably come out of their last class together and were now leaving campus with school out. Skye talked with her whole body – hand gestures, smiles, energetic eyes that looked up every time she turned to face her conversation partner.
The exchange seemed pretty one-sided though. Jemma was no lip-reader, but when she had the correct view, she barely saw Ward’s mouth move. Then again, he hadn’t shaken the girl off yet so that meant something too.
“You’re staring,” Fitz commented as he caught her in the act.
“What?” She turned her attention back to the spreadsheets and books on the table.
“Honestly, Jemma. If you’re going to ogle while we work, we should’ve just gone back to my place instead. It’s not like anything in the school library can help us. My mum’s collection would be much better suited for our research anyway.”
Jemma frowned. The last thing she wanted was to be admonished for not putting effort into their project. Everyone knew she always put two hundred percent in all her work. She did all her assignments beyond their minimal requirements and never complained about putting in additional time to go the extra mile. Honestly, half the time she labored over things that didn’t even pertain to her academics. As much as she enjoyed analyzing Shakespeare and learning new Spanish vocabulary, Jemma knew none of that would be of use in her future studies.
“I’m not ogling,” she protested. But it was apparent that her focus had shifted.
Skye was a fun person who could probably bring out the best in Ward. It was hard to be so serious and uptight around someone like her; Jemma could attest to that. Maybe that was what he needed. Maybe that was what he liked.
“Why don’t you just tell her?” Fitz inquired.
“Tell her what?” He gave her a pointed look. Despite her feigned innocence, she knew exactly what he was talking about. There was little if anything Jemma could get past her best friend. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t even know I exist.”
“I’m pretty sure he does.”
--
The tournaments in volleyball started and Jemma was both relieved and disappointed that Ward was not on her team. She managed to serve all right, but still prayed to God that the ball wouldn’t come her way. Thankfully, her other five teammates seemed to understand her lack of athletic skill and mostly covered for her without being snarky or insulting.
Jemma could not care less if her name was inscribed on some stupid plastic trophy they had for whichever team ended up with the best record. This was gym class, for God’s sake! Her life certainly did not depend on whether she could spike the ball over the net. And it wasn’t as if she owed any of her group members anything.
She avoided incident pretty well until one Wednesday in mid-October when the opposing team, which included Ward, decided to get all big and showy. Jemma hated standing in front of the net the most when they rotated positions. If she absolutely had to hit the ball, she put her hands up in a more guarded way than the accurate bump pass position. There was a fifty-fifty shot it would work, but on this particular day, her reflexes were too late and the ball smacked her right between the eyes.
She reeled, but thankfully didn’t fall. Her hand went up to rub the sore spot as someone on her team ran to collect the rolled away ball. Through her fingers, she could see the perpetrator laughing and Ward staring.
“You okay?” She looked up and gave an appreciative nod to Trip. He was Ward’s friend, but had always been nice to her. Perhaps it was because she helped him pass biology sophomore year.
The rest of class went by without another mention of her embarrassing moment. Jemma could only hope that one Brock Rumlow wouldn’t go bragging to his buddies about his ‘amazing spike’ that hit her square in the face; it was still slightly red and pulsing.
During lunch, she forwent the cafeteria and instead headed to the nurses’ office to lie down.
--
Holding the now warm icepack in hand, Jemma sat up slowly a few minutes before the next bell rang. Her favorite thing about the nurses’ office was that they didn’t ask too many unnecessary questions and just let her be. Her head had stung for a moment, but not the entire lunch period. Really, she just needed to hide for a while.
She knew she was probably making a bigger deal out of it, but she just couldn’t get the image of Ward watching out of her mind. For once, Jemma wanted to remain undetected the way she usually was. Anonymity was always easier for her and she had long accepted that she would never be memorable to him.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she returned the compress before heading back to the hallways to face reality and her next physics class only to see no other than Grant Ward.
Her best bet was to look down and away, but her stupid, silly compulsion to always glance at him when he was around betrayed that intention. To her delight and horror, he was staring right back.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.” For someone who felt like melting, Jemma sure kept her composure.
“Sorry about that.”
“You didn’t do anything,” she replied with a shrug. Even if he did, Jemma probably would’ve let him off the hook anyway.
As quickly as it started, though, did it end. The bell rang and the corridor flooded with students sloshing against each other with their backpacks and brazen carelessness as they headed to their next destination – effectively cutting off the short-lived conversation.
But even in the sea of people, Jemma could never lose him in a crowd.
--
“Hi.”
Holed up in the library during an hour without class, Jemma staked out her favorite table in the back and spread out her books and papers all over so no one would consider bothering or joining her. Sometimes she actually did work. Other times she just liked to read and do People Magazine crosswords for the hell of it.
Naturally, when she was expecting someone to ask to take a chair, which she was willing to spare, Jemma wasn’t quite prepared to face Grant Ward. Furthermore, she couldn’t believe that she never realized they had the same free block.
“Hi,” she responded with slight surprise in her tone. Well, this was new.
“Um, are you busy?” With her crossword featuring Julie Andrews? No, not particularly. She shook her head gently and looked at him openly. What could possibly have him initiating such an interaction at a moment’s notice for the first time since her family had moved next door?
“Sorry. I just… I have a quiz on these differential equations in fifteen minutes and can’t figure it out. I didn’t know who else to ask and I remember Trip said you were in his class, so I just thought…”
Jemma never considered describing Grant Ward using the word adorable, but maybe this once it was appropriate. She couldn’t help but smile at his unusual discomfort in asking for help. Her help! How could she refuse?
“It’s fine.” Setting her reading material down, she moved to clean up a space for him as he brought over the textbook. “Oh, these,” she commented when she saw the problems. “Fun.”
Seeing his empty notebook, Jemma made it her mission to teach him all that she knew in the easiest and most accessible fashion. Because she was rather good at calculus despite her neutrality for mathematics and her will to help anyone that appeared to need it.
And because sitting across from her was Ward, hanging onto her every word like his life depended on it.
--
The nurses’ office was a hidden sanctuary at times. Jemma’s stomach had been bothering her the entire day so much that she was afraid to eat. Skye offered her some basic medication, but she refused and instead chose to try and sleep the pain off. She came very close to skipping English class, but forced herself to go to keep her perfect attendance record.
Lying on the corner cot in the back, she rested her eyes, but found her ears entertained by the various issues people came in with – the standard need for cold packs and Band-Aids, one girl with a bloody nose. Jemma had to suppress a smirk when she heard someone ask for condoms. At least the distractions kept her mind off the rumbling pain rolling through her abdomen.
At the unmistakable sound of a male voice, her eyes popped open. Jemma willed herself to just face the wall and ignore him, but she couldn’t. She lied still and attempted to make out the conversation, though had a hard time stringing mumbled words into coherent and complete sentences. Well, it really wasn’t her business anyway. Jemma didn’t want to eavesdrop and hear something she would later regret knowing.
Catching the time on the clock, she eased herself up and successfully avoided looking in Ward’s direction. If she left now, she could still catch Fitz for a few minutes in the commons. She ran her fingers through her hair to comb out any knots and slowly rose to her feet with a wince.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” she answered in a nonchalant manner and stared at anything but him. Why did most of their conversations appear to take place in this particular corner of the school campus? He probably thought she was physically weak and had a poor immune system or something when in reality Jemma hadn’t been sick in years.
“How did your quiz go?”
“Oh. Okay, I guess. I’ll find out when I get it back. But yeah, better. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she said with a nod. “I’ll… um, see you around,” she muttered in the end before moving to leave. Hopefully, it would be some place more friendly and lively where Jemma didn’t seem so pathetic.
It was only when she couldn’t help but glance back before she left the office that she saw a nurse tending to his bruised face and cut lip.
Where and when did he get those?
--
“Did you notice the bruise on Ward’s face?” Jemma asked Skye while they made their way back to her house to work on their Spanish project.
“Yeah, kind of hard to miss. He got so annoyed when I kept asking him what happened. Something about protecting his brother from bullies,” Skye told her. “Don’t know why he wouldn’t want to admit to that. Pretty badass if you ask me.”
After seeing his battered face, Jemma could not get the image out of her mind. She racked her brain through all the tucked away memories of insignificant moments she dearly held onto and realized there were maybe a handful of times she had seen this in the past. She always attributed the discolorations to football incidents because who knew what went on between those guys. Jemma had no reason to believe otherwise or doubt Skye’s explanation, but she didn’t remember anyone else sporting shiners either.
“How’s that going by the way? You get him to… warm up to you yet?” she asked casually, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Pfft. You’ve met him. I’m pretty sure that Grant Ward does not warm up to anyone or anything. Besides, it’s kind of more complicated than that.”
Jemma wasn’t sure if relief was an appropriate reaction, though it seemed to be her current emotion as she let out a breath she didn’t know she was even holding. If Skye and Ward ended up together, then so be it. She would deal. After all, this wasn’t the first girl he had been entangled with. Not that she cared to really to keep track or anything. She was just very attentive, sometimes too observant for her own good.
She knew it was a crush – one that had perhaps lasted longer than usual, but nonetheless something that would eventually pass with time and distance. And some day, she would look back fondly and think how silly she had been the whole time.
He was just a boy, just another guy in a population full of them. But that didn’t mask the fact that sometimes – even with her loving parents, with her friendship with Fitz and perhaps Skye too, and her very bright future outside of high school – he was what she wanted to live for.
It was ridiculous. Jemma knew that.
She didn’t even know him.
--
When Skye grumbled at lunch about how Ward went off on her for talking about his apparently private matters with other people, Jemma felt horrendously guilty and remorseful. Because perhaps her friend told her things she wasn’t exactly privy to and she later, in what she considered a brave and risky attempt to exchange two words with him, briefly mentioned something about it.
She should’ve known his hardened face wasn’t a reflex or any kind of referred pain from his physical injuries. But the softer sciences had never been her forte.
Naturally, being who she was, she felt the need to apologize. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was some kind of untrustworthy gossipmonger. Jemma would never do that to him or anyone.
“Hey, Ward,” she called out as she caught up with him and Trip in the hallway after they had been let out of their gym class early. With it being the last week of the quarter, Jemma would no longer have to suffer through volleyball or ridiculing sports ever again. But with that came most likely the last time she would share a class with him.
He turned with a stern expression that almost made her want to back away. His temperamental reputation was only a rumor to her; she had never seen it in action.
“I… um… I just wanted to apologize. For what I said before,” she said trying not to stumble over her words. “I didn’t mean to… bring it up, you know, if it’s a sensitive issue. Because I didn’t know. That you didn’t want to talk about it.” She lost herself halfway through as his eyes practically stared into her soul – a gaze so intense that she didn’t know what he was thinking or what to expect. Between all of their infrequent interactions over the years, none had him so distant until now.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she reiterated with a clearer tone. But within two seconds into the silence after her apology, he swiftly turned and walked away.
Jemma was stunned. Had she screwed up that badly? Did she just completely ruin the chances of what they didn’t even have? She felt her face burn and the slight emergence of tears in her eyes because she was genuinely sorry for whatever she did and would do anything to take it back.
In the end, it was Trip who tried to reassure her.
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her as he slowly retreated. “Just… stay out of it.”
Stay out of what?
--
Jemma easily shrank back behind her invisibility barrier. Back to her safe zone of science projects, bantering with Fitz, and asking her parents to consider giving her an internship at their science division. This was the world she belonged in – a place where she could handle herself and confidently ask and answer questions. It involved homework, a lot of homework, and plausible participation and growth. It did not involve boys or uncomfortable exchanges or intruding into what was clearly none of her business.
This was one of the numerous reasons she didn’t have many friends to begin with. She could handle complicated when it came to the human body and molecules, but not when it involved individuals and their feelings. Jemma could deal with the concrete variables, just not the abstract ones. That was why she and Fitz got along so well; they were on the same wavelength because they were basically the same person. It was easy to interact with people when she could anticipate their future thoughts and actions.
In that sense, Grant Ward seemed like an entirely different species – one she strangely yet desperately wanted to unearth and understand, but still terrified of the possible consequences she might discover underneath the exterior.
In one perspective, Jemma appeared to be a caring and compassionate soul who sought out the truth in hopes to alleviate any burdens one might be carrying. But given her age, the setting, and the nature of her emotions, she was just another teenage girl who wanted to be the one to change a bad boy into a better man.
For such a smart girl, Jemma sure didn’t feel like one by the way anything related to Grant Ward could make her doubt everything she knew and believed.
He made her wish that she could read people better – communicate with her eyes and understand their situations without maneuvering every which way to get the message across. Because when she observed, took in all these details, and tended to think, rethink, and overthink until she found a satisfying and logical conclusion, it took all of Jemma and then some to keep things to herself and not tell him, Fitz, her parents, or the authorities what she believed to be true.
Nothing was what Jemma previously thought. Nothing except for her now deepened desire to show him that she was on his side.
--
It was all she could think about. In English class when she should’ve been paying attention to people’s presentations. During her free blocks when she stopped in the middle of a physics problem set or some crossword answer. At lunch with Fitz and Skye jabbering away while she continuously glanced across the cafeteria at him. After their last volleyball class, with her team losing the tournament and his winning, at the close of the quarter. When she walked up her driveway after school and simultaneously stared at his house next door. In the middle of writing her essay for Spanish and looking out her window at the lit rooms at the Ward residence.
Trip told her to stay out of it for good reason. He knew too and hadn’t said a word. Whether that was per codes of brotherhood or because he lived in a similar situation, Jemma wasn’t sure. She shuddered to think of the latter. One was bad enough.
The knowledge made her hug her parents more genuinely, argue less with Fitz, try to understand things the way Skye saw them. And for some strange reason, it made Jemma braver.
Heading to the commons after calculus, she caught him going in the opposite direction. Stoic and emotionless as usual, he walked with a determined pace that probably wouldn’t slow for anyone. Jemma believed this was her chance. With no one else around to interrupt or eavesdrop, this was her opportunity to let him know. She had to. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it to herself.
“Ward.” For an instant, he looked at her and she had all the hope in the world that things would go well. But when his stride didn’t let up, any resemblance of a plan she had went out the window.
“Grant.” Her tiny hand reached out to grab his arm and miraculously, he stopped and turned around. All thoughts were now truly lost when she registered the sheer fact that she could feel the heat of his skin radiating onto her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat as she fully realized their proximity and the fact that she was still holding onto him.
He looked at her and she saw something inside of him for the first time: imploration.
“I know.”
--
Everything burned. Every emotion intensified. Jemma had always been aware of the daunting, but exciting life outside and after high school, but now with the truths of reality slammed in her face, her optimism for the world faltered.
How could someone like Grant Ward be treated with such malignance?
It weighed on her mind. The thought rolled back and forth as she contemplated the severity, the meaning, a possible course of action, her position. It might not be her place to speak or intervene, but she couldn’t sit and do nothing. And for a girl who couldn’t lie to save her life and had a hard time hiding her emotions, it was obvious how affected she was by this information.
“You’re distracted.” Normally, she called Fitz out on his moments of unproductivity. Not this time.
“I’m not,” she insisted weakly.
“Honestly, Jemma. If you have other important things to attend to, then by all means, go ahead. The last thing I need is you falling asleep–”
“I didn’t fall asleep!”
“Really? I seem to remember one time during dissections in biology when you–”
“That was one time!”
“Then don’t let there be another.” She sighed and set her materials down.
“I just think if–”
“No, no,” Fitz interjected. “Whatever it is, I do not want to know. Don’t say anything. Do not get me involved.” Even if he could keep secrets, Jemma knew she shouldn’t say anything, especially what happened with Skye. In every other conceivable circumstance, Fitz was one of if not the first person she turned to. But in this case, he was better off left in the dark.
Taking his advice, Jemma took off her lab coat and hung it back on the rack before gathering her things to leave. Eventually, she was going to have to figure out what to do.
“I’ll see you later,” she told Fitz. “Call me if you make any progress.”
“Jemma,” Fitz called out without looking up from his computer before she left. She turned her head back towards him. “Is it…?” He didn’t need to finish the thought. Jemma knew exactly what he was asking, what he meant, what his intention was.
“It’s bad, Fitz.”
--
This was not the way she wanted it to happen. This was not how she ever imagined them getting closer.
In her mind, it was moments like him asking her for more help on his problems sets. It was finding her lack of physical fitness adorable and taking it upon himself to improve her nonexistent skills. It was asking if she needed a ride home after school.
It wasn’t hiding in the back corner during a free block on a Monday tense and wordless because he knew she wouldn’t say anything – enjoyable company, yet rather stressful on her heart. It wasn’t looks that bore into her soul when they passed each other in the hallway – reassuring, but intimidating.
It certainly wasn’t him ringing her doorbell the Friday night after Thanksgiving with cuts and new bruises forming over old bruises.
Home alone, she peaked out a window first to identify the person. Normally, without a car in the driveway, Jemma would’ve ignored them. But assuming it was Fitz who always came over unannounced, she figured she’d be fine. Lo and behold, when she threw the door open, the sight of a battered Grant Ward blew her away.
He stood there, tall and steady, but seemingly vulnerable with his head slightly bowed down in shame when looking at her. His eyes, even with their usual hardness, appeared softer and worn-out. His hands were slack by his sides.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.
A couple of months ago, Jemma would have considered this sad, almost pathetic side of him an egregious fault and outlier in his brooding personality and appearance. Now understanding why he portrayed himself that way, she found herself falling deeper into the thoughts she had so carefully stowed away.
Despite any and every logical definition and explanation and what anyone said, Jemma knew exactly what her feelings were. She knew exactly how she felt about him.
Jemma took one look before pulling him inside, locking the door, and leading him upstairs by the hand.
--
She sat him down on her bed as she went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. At sixteen, she had minimal medical expertise and did not intend to ever go to medical school despite her father’s suggestions. But being the daughter of a former physician, Jemma knew a thing or two about cleaning and addressing basic wounds.
When she returned to her room, her eyes bulged at the site of Grant’s bare chest only to narrow at the tainted colors that marked his body. This was unfair for so many reasons. Setting the kit down on her desk, she dragged her computer chair over to sit and got to work on the cuts on his face.
“You don’t have to do that,” Grant commented quietly. “It’s not that bad.” She only glared. Yes, it was bad – maybe not the injuries, but definitely the situation. So yes, the least Jemma could do was try to fix him up.
She tried her best not to react while tending to him, but she couldn’t help it. She winced when he winced. He grimaced and she bit her lip. Jemma could only guess how some of these abrasions were inflicted because clearly not all of them came from a fist. There was little she could about the contusions on his chest so she just hoped to God that a rib hadn’t been fractured or broken.
When all was said and done, she cleaned up and returned the set where she found it. She expected Grant to be back downstairs, maybe even ready to head out again. But there he was, still sitting on her bed the way she left him, shirt on though. Jemma didn’t know what else to do but resume her spot.
“Why’d you come here?” she asked finally after a moment of awkward silence. He shrugged with minimal damage.
“Didn’t want to be there. Didn’t know where else to go.”
“What about your brother?”
“Luca’s fine. I sent him out. He isn’t around.”
“And you could’ve gone out too, gone anywhere.”
“You were most convenient.” She pressed her lips together in an ineffective attempt to suppress a smile.
Jemma didn’t know how he did it. How he pulled charm out of nowhere. How he could dismiss the fact that he had just been physical hurt. How, after everything he endured, was still standing.
--
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at me like that before.”
Jemma could barely comprehend the fact that there was a boy in her room – a boy that was not Fitz – let alone have a decent conversation with him. Her eyes continuously darted between her lap and his face in nervousness. The beats of her heart weren’t quick, but loud, so much that she swore he could hear the rhythmic pounding against her chest.
“Like what?” she replied, not in feigned innocence, but to simply continue the conversation. Anything to keep him here and let this moment last a little while longer. Jemma knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Like I just handed you your first B.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes and glare. But the jab at her expense was well worth the small smile elicited on his face.
“As opposed to…?”
“As opposed to how it’s been for the past four years.”
Jemma stilled at that. She tried to hold his gaze only to lower her head once she felt the blush rise heavily on her cheeks. She squeezed her clasped hands, which told her this was real. This was very real. And happening.
“You knew?” Of course he did. Probably everyone did. After all, she was a horrendous liar. “And you didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t either.”
“I thought you liked Skye,” Jemma weakly defended.
“Yeah, well, I thought I did too,” he told her. She looked up then. “But, I think we both know that Skye is a little too complicated for me.” Jemma dipped her head in a nod. As much as she liked the girl, her rather spontaneous ways usually meant all sorts of trouble that Jemma didn’t even know existed. “I thought you liked Fitz.”
“No,” she answered quickly, almost snorting at the thought. Her, and Fitz? “No.” Just, no. “He’s my best friend, but, no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Am I sure that there is nothing between Fitz and–” she started, but stopped when she realized where his gaze fell.
Oh.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
She had never been more sure in her entire life.
--
Jemma would be lying if she said she never dreamt about this moment before. Over the years, she crafted different situations for different scenarios – a particular setting, a specific day and time. There were versions she liked better, suited her taste, and weren’t as extravagant and dramatic as others. She wanted it to be simple and quiet, yet powerful and defining. Various ideas manifested with her growth and maturity, but the thing that always remained the same was the person she shared it with. That was a no brainer.
Yet clearly, nothing in her imagination would ever come to pass. Well, not when it involved Grant Ward.
Not wanting to tip over in her rolling chair, Jemma inadvertently placed her hands on his knees for support. Her eyes were open until the last second – wanting to remember this, document it for later, but still engage in the present. They inched closer and closer until the space in between was eliminated. She felt the heat, the flush, his lips.
But before either of them could fully immerse themselves, both pulled back – him wincing and her left with the ointment still drying on his lip.
So much for her first kiss.
“It’s all right,” she said, effectively cutting off any words he could’ve used to assuage the awkwardness. It was too late anyway. The moment had gone, passed. “I’d rather you heal and be in one piece.”
Regaining her awareness, Jemma returned her hands into her own lap and lowered her head to avert his gaze and mask her rosy cheeks.
What now?
“Are you going to stay?” she asked quietly.
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“No, no,” she hastily replied. “It’s fine. I mean, I don’t want you to go back if it’s not safe. Well, you could always go somewhere else instead. I’m sure your friends will be better company. The decision is completely up to you, of course. But if you want, you can… stay.”
And he did.
And they parked themselves in front of the television downstairs to watch whatever he wanted because Jemma sure wasn’t paying attention with Grant sitting next to her the whole time. And they shared snacks because God knew with Fitz's frequent visits, there were always snacks ready in the Simmons household. And then, he miraculously fell asleep before she did.
Well, that wasn’t really a surprise. Not with Jemma kept awake by her heart humming oh so loudly.