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When Fitz woke up to find snow falling outside his hotel window his first reaction had been of warm delight. Afterall, waking up to a nice new snowfall was one of the small joys of the winter months and his three days spent stuck in boring lectures on behalf of the company he worked for had made him really appreciate windows. Honestly, whoever had designed the hotel ballroom was either slightly sadistic or had really liked the color beige. So being able to see the world outside a window was wonderful. However, the initial delight was replaced by his more naturally realist reaction: what one would call an uh oh feeling. The feeling was furthered when he and his two co-workers--though after this long working together Jemma and Daisy were more friends than co-workers--stepped outside and into a cab, snow sticking in their hair and clumping onto the bottom of their shoes. In the time between waking up and leaving for the airport, the snowfall had gone from a light speckling of fluffy flakes to the beginnings of a flurry. The actual snowflakes were gaining in both size and weight and the ever increasing speed of the wind was not helping matters. The more the snowstorm picked up speed the more Fitz buckled down on his secondary reaction. Definitely an uh oh.
“It will be fine,” Jemma said from her squished position in the middle seat, detangling her arm to pat Fitz’s bobbing knee. They were all packed together like an overstuffed suitcase, layers of jumpers, coats, and scarves making them feel ever closer together than they normally would have been. Insulated by warm clothing, an overpowered car heater, and Christmas music. Somehow, though, Fitz thought the splotches of pink that started to rise up his neck had nothing to do with the overheating interior of the cab.
Jemma was always the voice of hope in situations. Ever the optimist. It was one of the things Fitz admired and loved most about her. Then again, the list of things he loved about her was quite long and simply continued to get longer the more he got to know her. After seven years of being friends, it really was more of a book than a list and the recent chapters were turning more romantic than Fitz really knew how to admit. Really, how was one supposed to admit such a thing? Knowing himself, he and Jemma would have to be trapped together or something to let him work up the courage to admit it to her. All he could do at the moment was smile and try not to overthink her hand resting longer than completely necessary on his knee.
When they had finally gotten to the airport after hours of loud snow filled Chicago traffic, even Jemma was having a hard time keeping the optimist’s outlook. The airport was really trying its best to be festive, decorated nicely and playing cheery music. But none of that could negate the fact that holiday travel lines were long, loud, and unabashedly uptight. Everyone was in a rush to get home and the airport was as busy as an airport could be. While Jemma was clinging desperately to her hopeful outlook at her and Fitz meeting their connecting flights to London, Fitz was getting increasingly grumpy and Daisy was staying occupied by talking about the only upside she could find to airports.
“Soft pretzels,” she said as they inched forward in the security line, “salted, cinnamon sugar, the kind they turn into pizza.”
Fitz had to give Daisy credit, talking about delicious unhealthy soft pretzels was a good way to keep him from murdering the arsehole in front of them who was complaining very loudly about the workers who were just doing their jobs.
“They have pizza pretzels?” he asked.
Daisy rolled her eyes, her brows sneaking behind her bangs. “Of course they have pizza pretzels. If something can be pizzad, America has pizzad it. Do not doubt our pizza abilities.”
“Is that what you’re getting?” Fitz asked Daisy, trying not to smile too much. He had just seen Jemma wrinkle her nose out of the corner of his eye. She was not one to like greasy food. He liked to tease her and say it was her only fault. Daisy on the other hand was right there with him on the junk food train.
She leaned her arm on the handle of her carry-on suitcase. “Nah, I’m not feeling in the pizza mood. Think I’ll go for the classic salt and cheese.”
“Hmm, what about you Simmons? What airport pretzel will you be ordering?”
Jemma just shot him a look and shoved him. “I’ll have a bite of yours and call it good.”
“What makes you think I’ll share with you?”
Daisy snorted before contorting her face into almost a look of apology. It was very much an almost.
“Sorry, it’s just that you two always share food. You swat her hand when she goes for your fries, but turn the other way when she goes back. And I have never seen Jemma say anything when you take snacks from off her desk.”
There was a retort of Fitz’s tongue, but he was cut off as it was finally their turn to put their stuff into trays and onto the conveyor belt to be scanned. Whatever he had been about to say was quickly forgotten by the whole stressful process of trying to be quick in taking off his shoes while simultaneously trying to get Jemma, Daisy, and himself some of the grey security trays that seemed to hate being separated from one another all while also trying to fish out his wallet from his pockets. All of this being done with other angry airport goers behind him.
“Belt, Fitz,” Jemma said as he tried to walk forward towards the metal detector.
“What?” he asked.
For some reason unknown to him his cheeks decided to warm. Jemma either didn’t notice or had elected to ignore it as she just nodded to his belt again.
“Your belt buckle.”
“Right! Thanks.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“I might not set off the metal detector, now. But I might embarrass myself with my trousers falling to the floor.”
“I don’t think you’d embarrass yourself,” Jemma teased, “I don’t see a single thing embarrassing about that. Just showing off your assets.” She suddenly blushed a furious shade of crimson and started giggling, only just being able to breathe out, “I did not mean for the pun, I swear.”
“Sure you didn’t, Simmons,” Fitz said, trying desperately not to blush himself. He dropped his belt into the tray and moved forward, “I am sure the humiliating pun at my expense was completely accidental.”
“It was! I swear!”
“I think your case is undermined by the giggling.”
She leaned heavily on him, trying to catch her breath. “I’ll stop. I’ll stop. Hold on.”
People were starting to stare and Daisy, who had just made it through security, was shooting them a look that showed an obvious mix of amusement and curiosity. Fitz wanted to be embarrassed, but with Jemma clinging to his shoulder and laughing to the point where tears were forming in her eyes he couldn’t help but grin more than grimace.
Eventually she managed to get a hold of herself, wiping away the tears of mirth and hiccuping giggles as she raised her arms in the metal detector.
“Having a good day?” the older security woman asked as Fitz passed through. There was something in her look that made him think she and Daisy would be kindred spirits.
“It’s been fantastic,” Fitz deadpanned.
The woman barked a laugh, shaking her head as she let him through.
“Happy holidays,” she said.
“Happy holidays,” Fitz replied.
Gathering their stuff--Fitz made a show to Jemma of putting on his belt--the trio made their way to their gate. Thanks to Jemma’s scheduling--and pushing, Daisy repeatedly commented--they had managed to get to the airport much earlier than necessary. Though, with the onslaught of snowfall and increasingly long traffic jams, they were lucky they were there at all let alone early.
What it did mean, however, was that they needed to get comfortable. Especially when the news Fitz was expecting came in.
“Flight’s delayed,” Daisy announced, plopping into her seat across from him and Jemma.
Jemma worried her lip as Fitz leaned his head back against his seat.
“Did they say how long?”
Daisy’s face said it all. Do you think they said how long?
“We could ask the help desk.”
Again, Daisy replied with her brows and the curve of her lips.
“Well, then we wait,” Jemma said matter-of-factly, slapping her hands on her knees.
“You guys can wait here, I am getting a pretzel. Fitz, order?”
He lifted his head from the seat. “Cinnamon and sugar.”
Daisy shot him a thumbs up and disappeared down the airport terminal.
Outside the window, Fitz could see snow falling thick and fast onto the tarmac. Not a single plane appeared to be moving and the early afternoon sky was already a dark and white dotted grey. Something in him told him they were not leaving the airport any time soon.
“We’ll make our connecting flights, won’t we?” Jemma asked, curling her knees more comfortably to her chest.
Fitz looked at her carefully and met her gaze before she looked towards the snowy windows.
“My mum will just be so upset if our flight’s delayed and you don’t have time to stop by before going up to Glasgow.”
Feeling brave, Fitz gave Jemma’s hand a squeeze. “Even if it’s delayed, I’ll make time to stop by. My mum will understand. She’d rather me be late than murdered by Annie.”
That earned him a swat to the chest that he could not help but be proud of.
They sat together in warm silence for a few minutes, people watching together and occasionally making comments about what they saw. Mostly, though, they just took in the festive attitude of the airport itself. There were trees set up along the walls wherever there were breaks in windows and just the lightest breath of holiday music played through the speaker system. The rest of the holiday soundtrack was children shouting, a few wails from babies, a lot of chatting, and plenty of grumbles about delayed flights.
“At least we’re not alone,” Fitz commented, leaning over to talk in Jemma’s ear.
She nodded, pointing at the crowded help desk. “I don’t think there’s a single plane taking off.”
“Or a single pretzel being made.”
They both jumped apart at Daisy’s sudden reappearance. Jemma was blushing for reasons unknown to Fitz, but he didn’t have time to think too much about it. The pretzel blow seemed to be quite the downer to Daisy.
She sat with her legs crossed on her chair, matching the position with folded arms. “Checked with help desk lady--who did not seem to be a happy camper by the way--and our flight was delayed another three hours. No other flights are leaving and the pretzel place is momentarily closed as they repair their machine. Their pretzel machine. They're a pretzel place and their pretzel making machine is broken. Like, what the hell. The poor guy running the place looked to be having a time of it too, so looks like we’re all in it for the long haul here guys.”
“Last minute business trip extended into our holiday. How bloody wonderful,” Fitz groaned. Again, Jemma swatted his chest. This time, however, the gesture was less amusing and more soothing, the back of her hand staying where it fell.
“It’s still early in the day. I am sure it won’t extend into tomorrow.”
The storm outside begged to differ.
After another six hours in their uncomfortable black airport seats, Daisy’s long haul assessment started to ring more and more true. The pretzel place was still closed, their surrounding traveling companions were starting to get restless, and the grey sky was beginning to darken as the storm worsened and the sun set. To fight down the boredom and increasing frustration at delays, the trio resorted to a game they had discovered for moments such as the one they now found themselves in.
"Subject is colors,” Daisy said from the stained carpet floor. She had pulled her blanket and pillow out from her carry on bag and had moved to sit closer to Fitz and Jemma, sitting upon her blanket and hugging her travel pillow tightly.
Being the next in the circle, Fitz went first.
“Red.”
“Orange,” Jemma followed.
“Yellow,” Daisy continued.
“Green.”
“Blue.”
Daisy yawned. “Purple.”
“Violet.”
“That’s a purple derivative, Fitz.”
“It counts!”
“Daisy said purple.”
“Violet and purple are different.”
“They’re too similar.”
“Their shades! We’ve done this before with red and scarlet.”
Fitz and Jemma were continuing to banter when a tall man with blonde hair and a kind smile approached them.
“Um, hi,” he said, giving a slightly awkward wave and breaking up the argument. Fitz and Jemma turned to look at the man at the same time. It was Daisy, however, that replied.
“Hi! How can we help you?”
Fitz turned to his friend to see a look he knew rather well and was unsurprised to see that her smile was a rather flirtatious one. He knew most of Daisy’s looks pretty well, and he knew them well enough to know that this one was altered slightly. She actually looked smitten. Glancing at Jemma, Fitz could see that she had seen it too.
“My sister and I are sitting in the seats right behind you. Well we were. You sort of moved to the floor. Remember, about two hours ago you leaned back and--”
“Head butted you!”
“Yeah.”
Was Daisy blushing? Daisy never blushed.
“I’m really sorry about that! I didn’t even really apologize!”
The man shrugged, one corner of his mouth pulling higher than the other. “You said you were sorry.”
“Not good enough! I didn’t even look behind me!”
“Really it’s fine! And that’s not why I came over here. Sorry to interrupt your game.”
Fitz and Jemma opened their mouths, but Daisy cut them off.
“Nothing to interrupt.”
Well that wasn’t true at all and Fitz was about to say so, but Jemma pinched him.
Shrugging his broad jacket covered shoulders again, the man grinned. “Still. Sorry to interrupt. I just thought you would want to know that the pretzel place is open again. I saw it working on my way back from the bathroom.”
Daisy was up from the floor so fast Fitz was surprised she didn’t get a head rush.
“Shut up! Really?”
“Yeah.”
She ran over and squeezed the man’s arm. “Thanks!”
"Don’t mention it.”
Daisy ran back over and made a big fuss in pushing Fitz’s feet to grab her purse from under his chair. Then, seeing the man walking back to his seat, she rushed back over to tap him on the shoulder, having to go on her tiptoes to do so.
“I’m Daisy by the way,” she said once he had turned around.
“Lincoln,” he grinned.
“Well, Lincoln, care to get some soft pretzels with me?”
His grin widened and he ducked his head before saying, “I have heard they are pretty good.”
“Best thing in the airport.”
As Daisy and the new man she had introduced herself to walked in the direction of the pretzel stand, Jemma leaned her chin on Fitz’s shoulder as she watched them go.
“I have no idea how she does that,” she said, every word felt in Fitz’s shoulder.
“Does what?” he asked.
“Just skip up to a guy she finds handsome and tell him how she feels.”
Fitz turned his head, careful not to disturb Jemma’s chin. “I don’t know.”
There was a very long pause before Jemma mumbled something.
“Hmm?” he asked.
To his disappointment, she lifted her chin and curled back up on her chair, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Nothing. Just… nothing.”
A strange energy had lit up between them. It wasn’t a negative feeling, not in the slightest. More like an electricity that neither of them wanted to comment on. Fitz’s stomach was doing flips and he swallowed hard. He was going to say something when Jemma beat him to the punch.
“Subject is countries,” she said.
That wasn’t the topic he was going to broach, but whatever moment they had just had had passed. Instead of saying what he was going to, he went along with the next round of their game.
“Scotland.”
“Knew you would say that,” she smiled. “England.”
“Knew you would say that.”
She wrinkled her nose at him and then continued on with their list.
They were fifteen countries in when Daisy reappeared with Lincoln carrying a pretzel in each hand.
“I have returned with a glorious gift,” she said, bunny hopping in front of Fitz. She revealed his cinnamon and sugared present with a flourish, getting bits of the topping on her black leggings and Fitz’s shoes. Neither cared, however, as he happily took the treat with a, “thanks, Dais.”
“You are very welcome, Fitzy.”
He scowled at the nickname, but the expression slipped when he took a bite.
“Good?” Daisy grinned.
With a mouth filled with sweetened dough covered with heaven, he just nodded. Next to him Jemma snorted, her eyes bright as she covered her mouth.
“Wha’?”
“You’re ridiculous,” she giggled.
He spoke with his eyes. What do you mean?
She shook her head. “I mean you’re cute. And that you have glaze on your nose.”
Leaning over, Jemma gently brushed the bit of cinnamon coated glaze off the end of his nose, running her finger from the space between his brows, down the bridge of his nose, to the end. Then, perhaps seeing more sugar on his face, she brushed her fingers across his cheek bone and the corner of his mouth.
There was that silence again. It was far from empty, filled instead with heavy thoughts and words on the tips of tongues. Daisy must have felt it for she broke the silence with a clap, her pretzel held in her mouth.
She dropped the pretzel back into her hands and pulled Lincoln down to sit on the floor.
“Should we show Lincoln the game? Heard you guys were on countries.”
Fitz saw Jemma startle, her hands jumping into her lap as her head snapped to look at Daisy. He, however, could not draw his eyes away from her face.
“Yes,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “We could restart.”
Daisy shook her head. “Nah, I suck at that one. You guys always pick it to get me out.”
“We do not.”
“Do so.”
“Fine, let’s do--”
“If you say elements, Jemma, I’ll chuck this pretzel at you.”
That broke Fitz out of his reverie. A chance to tease Daisy often helped get his mind off of things.
“You would never chuck that pretzel. Not if your life depended on it.”
His friend grinned, taking a quick bite from her salted delicacy. “You are very right. I would die for this pretzel.”
“If you had to save me and Jemma or that pretzel--”
"Pretzel.”
Next to her, Lincoln laughed. Jemma, however, gasped and Fitz gave a faux indignant scoff.
“Oh please, Fitz. You have sacrificed me for a sandwich before, remember.”
“No,” he countered, “I had no idea that Talkative Todd was behind us, I was already on my way to get the sandwich, and it was the special sandwich Jemma made me. Even if I had left you to be stuck in a conversation it would have been warranted.”
“An hour! I was stuck listening to him talk about his new lawnmower for an hour!”
“I saved you at the end.”
“After an hour!”
“I was enjoying my sandwich.”
Next to him, Jemma was rolling her eyes so forcefully that he could almost hear it and on the floor Lincoln was chuckling. Daisy folded her arms. Fitz sat back in his seat. Then simultaneously they grinned.
“What kind of lawn mower did he get?” Lincoln asked.
Fitz, Daisy, and Jemma all replied at the same time. “Electric 20-inch cordless.”
“Nice.”
With the brief Talkative Todd debate behind them (for the moment), they played a few rounds of their game, Lincoln picking the first topic: pizza toppings. Once they had exhausted both that round, ice cream flavors, dog breeds, and flowers, Jemma brought up elements. As was often the way, Daisy was quickly out of the round and decided to check their flight update for the tenth time that day and marking their ninth hour in the airport.
When she returned from the help desk, she did not come back with her usual hop. Instead, she tiredly walked over and plopped down next to Lincoln on the floor.
“Angela said it looks like it will be another two hours before the storm even starts to clear up enough to warrant a take off.”
“Angela?” Fitz said, trying not to turn his head too much. Jemma’s head had fallen onto his shoulder fifteen minutes before and he could tell she was starting to nod off. The game had gotten paused as her responses were getting quieter and quieter.
“What happened to Denise?” Lincoln asked.
“On break. Angela’s holding her spot.”
“When did Carlos leave?”
Fitz was the one who answered. “He got moved to gate three two checks ago.”
“Oh yeah! The bloody nose thing.”
“Yep.”
Jemma’s head burrowed a little more into the crook of Fitz’s neck and he readjusted the way he was sitting so that she sat more comfortably.
The movement caught Daisy’s eye and that familiar cheshire smile appeared on her face.
“Cute,” she mouthed. She also pointed not so subtly, despite trying to hide her finger behind her other hand.
Fitz glared, shaking his head without shaking it. It just made Daisy smile more.
“You should ask her!” she whispered loudly, resting her arms on her knees.
“Daisy.”
“Fitz.”
“Wait,” Lincoln said, looking between Daisy and Fitz with his eyes narrowed. He then looked only at Daisy, leaning over to say, “they aren’t together?”
Instead of answering, Daisy looked to Fitz with flat line lips and eyes that screamed you’d think!
Fitz was going to respond, but Jemma began to stir with his slight movement. She was the lightest sleeper, one of the traits they did not share. One time Jemma had to literally poke him awake so they wouldn’t be late for a conference.
“What time is it?” she mumbled, looking at Fitz from his shoulder. He went to raise his watch, but she beat him to it, grabbing his wrist to lift it to her eyes. To his surprise, a sad look passed over her face as she read the time. Her eyes drifted to the window, catching the black and blue night and the flakes of snow dotting the dark.
She detached herself from Fitz and, standing up, wrapped her arms around her waist.
“I’ll be right back.”
She walked away towards the large windows in the gate across from them, standing in the fairy-lighted shadow of one of the trees. The area was busy, but the area around the window was empty. The only place of quiet that could be seen.
Fitz gave Daisy a quick glance, communicating all that needed to be communicated, before he too stood up and made his way to the other gate.
“Hey,” he said, coming to stand next to her at the window.
She looked over at him, her lips pulling into a tired smile before she stared back out at the snowfall.
“I’m alright, Fitz,” she said.
He leaned against the large metal frame of the window.
“Okay,” he said.
“Really I am.”
“I wasn’t saying otherwise. But just because you’re alright doesn’t mean there isn’t something on your mind.”
Her eyes flitted back to meet his. There were fairy lights dotting her hazel irises and caught in the highlights of her hair. She smiled at him again, but this time there were actual smile lines at the corners of her mouth. She leaned in closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek onto his chest so they could both watch the snow fall onto their reflections in the dark window.
“I just wanted to go home,” she said into his shirt. “And I know you said you’d make time to stop by, but I really don’t want to delay your time with your mum--”
“Then come with me.”
Her head sprang off from his chest. “What?”
“I’ll stay the extra day at your house to see everyone then head up to Glasgow. You can--err--you can make it up by comin’ over after New Years. Only if you want to of course! No pressure or anything. It’s just--well--just my mum has been wanting to see you.”
Her brows drew together a microscopic distance and the corner of her lips raised. “Just your mum wants me there?”
“No! I want you there!” He coughed and lowered his voice. “I would love to have you there.”
Jemma smiled again and her eyes became one with the fairy lights caught within them. “Then I would love to be there.”
They stood together and that now familiar heavy silence returned. At some point in the night, the music over the speaker system had turned gentle. Perhaps it had been an attempt to soothe the haggard holiday travelers. Whatever the reason, there was the softest whisper of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas behind them. The snow was falling slowly now, the flakes light and catching the lights of the window they fell next to. Like wisps of starlight in the air.
“Jemma,” he whispered, his blue eyes searching hers.
“Yes?”
She was leaning towards him, her cold hands finding his.
“I’ve thought of a subject.”
“And what would that be?”
“People you would like to kiss.”
She took another step forward. “Oh?”
“I think the game might end fast, though.”
“Why’s that, Fitz?”
He pressed their foreheads together, unable to contain the blush creeping onto his cheeks. He chuckled, buying time to work up his courage by warming her hands by bringing them to his lips. Finding them warmed, he held them to his chest.
“Well, you’re the only one on it.”
“Then it will be a very quick game indeed,” she whispered, going on her tiptoes. “Since mine only has you.”
Once the words had left her lips, Fitz leaned forward and retraced their steps, kissing Jemma as he had always wished to do. He really only parted from her when he realized they were still in public.
“Happy Christmas, Fitz,” she said, their lips still close.
“Happy Christmas, Jemma.”
Holding hands, they turned to go back to their gate. It was then that they caught Daisy. She was grinning from ear to ear, her arm linked through Lincolns, and gave them a very large thumbs up.
“And a Happy Christmas to Daisy,” Fitz deadpanned. It wasn’t necessarily meant to be a joke, but the laughter it got out of Jemma was worth saying it was.
Still, a Happy Christmas it most definitely was.