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Jemma and Fitz silently cling to each other for a long while. When the Zephyr lands and Jemma finally finds the courage to bring her face out from Fitz’s shoulder, her eyes are rimmed with red. She thinks that she might burst into tears again if anyone asks her a question. Fitz, in tune with her as always, catches her gaze and nods, so imperceptibly that anyone other than her would miss it. She smiles up at him gratefully, briefly leaning against his chest to remind herself that Fitz is there and not about to be taken away from her again.
In-sync as ever, they turn in unison to walk down the ramp of the Zephyr. Their hands find each other out of habit, fingers interlocking like pieces of a puzzle settling into place. They walk through the halls of the Playground, holding on to each other. Jemma follows Fitz into his room, their hands still linked. She turns to face him.
“Fitz?”
He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah?”
“Can we…” she gestures to the foot of the bed. “Like back at the Academy.”
Fitz nods, smiling at the memory. Back at the Academy when it came time to cram for exams, his mother would mail them an oversized box filled with their favorite snacks from home, and they’d spread all their books and papers out on the bed of whoever’s room was the designated study spot that night. It continued long after their graduation - when they’d come over to each other's places to hang out, they’d sit on the ground right in front of the couch instead of on it. It’s comfortingly familiar, something they’ve come to do when they’re stressed, frustrated, or just worn out.
Fitz nods again, and they take their usual spots on the floor. Sure, it’s not as comfortable as a couch or a mattress, but Fitz’s presence is all the comfort Jemma needs. She sighs as she leans into his right shoulder, and all the tension in her body dissipates. She realizes she favors his right shoulder - she gravitates toward it when they hug, it’s the one she puts a comforting hand to when he needs it most, and it’s the side she sits on whenever they sit together like this. Jemma sighs contentedly, squeezing Fitz’s hand in silent gratitude.
The pair sits like this for a while, and Jemma even begins to doze off at one point, her eyelids drooping. Fitz, who’s contentedly been watching her, leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. This pulls her back into full consciousness, and she stirs, shifting against Fitz’s arm to sit more comfortably as he slips his arm around her shoulders.
They sit in comfortable silence for what seems to be another hour, neither Fitz nor Jemma being able to or even wanting to sleep, and the first hints of dawn begin to peek through the window. Jemma gently nudges Fitz, tilting her head towards the rising sun, and he nods his assent. He helps her up, and hand-in-hand, they walk over to the window for a better view. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he plants a kiss on the top of her head. They stand in front of the window, clinging to each other as they watch the sunrise like so many times before.
After a while, Fitz's eyelids begin to grow heavy in spite of the room becoming brighter. He doesn’t want to let go of Jemma, though, and she doesn’t want to let go of him, either. So, when Fitz climbs onto his bed, Jemma follows. It’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before - nap breaks during marathon study sessions back at the Academy weren't uncommon, but that was a decade ago, before Fitz’s confession, before the portal swept Jemma off to Maveth. But nothing could change the fundamental connection they forged as awkward sixteen-year-olds at the Academy all those years ago.
Since her return, Jemma has found that she sleeps better when Fitz is in the room. They haven't shared a bed, but she's gone to him for comfort after nightmares more times than she'd like to admit. His presence makes her feel safe, though, and she's comforted by the fact that nothing can take him from her. Fitz is already asleep, still holding her hand with his other arm draped loosely around her waist. Jemma rests her head on his shoulder, drifting off with Fitz’s heartbeat thudding steadily in her ear.
That is how Daisy finds them when she comes by to call Fitz in for debriefing around noon the next day. She knocks on Fitz’s door, and when she gets no answer, she turns the knob herself, thinking he must be asleep. She’s struck by the sight of the sleeping pair holding onto each other. They both look almost as young as when she met them, as though all the trauma of the last two and a half years has been erased from their faces. They stir, bleary-eyed, and their gazes fall on their friend in tandem.
Daisy blinks, startled. “Debrief starts soon. Sorry, I didn’t realize-”
“It’s okay,” Fitz mutters, dismissively waving his hand. “We’ll be down in a few minutes.”
Nodding, Daisy turns and shuts the door.
Fitz steps out into the hall to wait for Jemma while she brushes her teeth and changes into one of his soft old t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants she probably left in his room last week when she had a nightmare and went to him for comfort.
She returns from the bathroom wearing the hoodie and extends her arm to Fitz. “Together?"
“Together,” he affirms, taking her hand in his.