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It was not a nice motel. Not that you had ever encountered a truly decent motel. But out of the handful of temporary stays you’d been subjected too, this was by far the worst locale.
The bed you slept in was so lumpy you named the larger crests after famous mountains. Everest was located near your knees, McKinley offset your pillow so it was impossible not to wake up with a sore neck, and Kilimanjaro pressed into the small of your back. Hidden just below the thin fabric of the mattress were the nastiest springs in the world, some had cut through near the edges and you found out about this by waking up with a bloodied foot and a fear of needing a tetanus shot.
When you rose in the morning and pulled back the blankets it was important to avert your vision from the ancient sheets. Pondering whatever mystery liquids had stained them over their decades of use was too nauseating to contemplate. The blankets were worn thin and made of such an awful synthetic material that the surface felt like tightly woven plastic. You missed your thousand count Egyptian cotton sheets more than anything else.
And that was only how awful the bed was.
The bathroom was filthy and no matter how little time you spent in there it was always a nightmarish experience. Hot water was rare and could only be obtained before 6:30 AM, not that you really wanted to shower in the dirty stall. After the unfortunate choice of not wearing socks into the bathroom (this event caused by rushing into the bathroom to rinse blood off your gashed foot) and going into a panic trying to wipe the grim from the bottoms of your feet, your tennis shoes were kept on continuously.
However the experience wasn’t completely horrible. At least you hadn’t been paired up with someone you hated, or hated you. Coulson had graciously paired Leo Fitz with you on the surveillance operation. You were pleased to say the very least. Not only was Fitz easy to get along with but you truly enjoyed his presence, more than that, you regularly sought out his company. It was not uncommon for one of the other team members to walk into Fitz’s tech lab and hear you jabbering away to him as he tinkered with different inventions. This attention was not unrequited however, instead it was just as common to find Fitz hovering in your work space, watching you work and helping you through the trial and error process.
“Anything?” You ask from your spot on top of McKinley, a near empty bag of Cool Ranch Doritos lay in your lap. How Captain America agreed to have his pictures placed on a freaking chip bag was beyond you, the dough they paid him must have been more than sufficient to receive his consent.
“Not a blasted thing,” Fitz says as he folds his arms over his chest and shifts his weight from foot to foot. You groan and fall forward onto your legs, making a high pitched noise as you go down and crushing the remaining chips in the process. The two of you have been stuck in the cramped, disgusting motel room for two and a half days now without being allowed to leave once. You’d even been forced to wear full body disguises to enter the room in the first place; Coulson’s direct orders. The target was supposed to be here by now, or at the very least arriving today.
“How long does Coulson plan to keep up holed up here?”
“Until Ward and Agent 33 show their evil faces,” He crosses the room and leaves the monitoring equipment at the window. The shades are drawn tightly over each window, not even the smallest slit of sunshine penetrates the blinds. You feel sick of the ever present gloom, of the smoke stained walls and the lack of sunshine. Fitz sits on his bed that faces your own, not even two feet away, and sighs. This mission is personal to him on a level you can’t even come understand. You’d arrived after the fall of SHIELD, after this Agent Ward was found out to be a lackey of one of the baddies. Fitz spoke of it rarely to you, just biting comments about the awful man in passing; mostly you received information from May or Jemma, but even that was clipped and had little depth.
You were aware that this Grant Ward had tried to kill both Leo and Jemma in one blow, sending them to the bottom of the ocean in a little metal box. Lack of oxygen had led to Fitz’s brain damage, leaving him a different man once the medics released him back to Coulson. You never knew Fitz before the accident, the only Leo you’d ever known was sitting in the room with you, looking exhausted and weary. He pulled his cable knit cardigan tighter around his shoulders and stared at the faded carpet.
“I’ll take the next watch,” You say and sit up, observing him with worry before standing. His head snaps up and he grabs your wrist gently, holding you back.
“No,” He says softly, like you moving seven feet away from him is too much for him to handle right now. You stop and turn your head to the side towards the quiet man. “I’ve got all of the sensors on alarms, if so much as a moth passes by the radar, we’ll know about it. Would you, um, just stay with me?” You smile and nod. He scooches down further on his bed, making a spot for you next to him.
“I know this is a tough mission for you Fitz,” You begin after sitting down and then abruptly stop. There is little to be said that could comfort him, really you have no clue how to comfort Fitz. Since your arrival there haven’t been many situations where encouragement has been vital. You listened when he needed to talk, conversed when he needed someone to speak with, and called people unrepeatable names when he needed someone to be on his side. You let Fitz be Fitz, and in return he let you be you. But this was different, you could feel the hurt and anger swelling inside of him, showing on the outside in the way he clenched his fists and ground his teeth every so often. You know there has to be something to say and you’ll do anything to figure out what it is.
Leo watches your face, wondering to himself what is making you frown so deeply. Fitz can’t help but feel at ease with you close to him, even if you don’t look to be in the best mood. He feels as if he should be able to keep his emotions in check better, hold in everything and not let it affect you. If he’s the reason you look so distressed he won’t be able to forgive himself.
“I’m sorry,” you start again, “I really don’t know what to say, I never do. I also don’t have a clue what you’re feeling either. I’m just… I don’t like seeing you upset like this and I hope we bring this jerk in soon so this can all be over.”
“Thank you. You do know what to say though.” He doesn’t make eye contact but talks down towards the bed spread, and then slowly raises his eyes to yours. You’re smiling at him, your soft smile that makes your eyes ever so slightly squinty and shiny. He loves that smile.
“We need a break, you know? Move around a little, get our blood pumping, I can feel madness setting in Fitzy ole’ buddy.” Leo cocks an eyebrow, there isn’t exactly much moving to be done in a crowded little motel room. Coulson doesn’t want either of you to leave the room until Ward shows, or until he’s certain the two traitors won’t be showing up at their hotel home. So that puts running around the courtyard the rooms are positioned around out of the question.
“We can’t go-“
“Dance with me,” You interrupt him by grabbing his hands and pulling him off the bed. Fitz teeters for a moment and almost falls into you but regains his balance at the last second. You leave him in-between the beds and go to where your luggage is piled, dig through the pockets of a blue purse, and pull out an IPod. Leo observes as you flick through different songs until happening upon “Knee Socks” by the Arctic Monkeys.
“Yes,” You purr and set the IPod on your bed. You bounce three steps to where Fitz stands and extend your hand, a little smirk playing at your lips. He too likes this smirk as much as the innocent smile you wore moments ago, this look means you’re in a playful mood, and he needs a little relief from the negativity shrouding his mind.
“May I?” You ask.
“Well of course,” He takes your hand in his own; intertwining his long, thin fingers with yours. His other hand is set on you hip, pulling you a couple inches closer to his chest.
If he ever did this with anyone else Fitz would be a bumbling mess, red in the face and thoroughly uncomfortable. With you however everything feels natural, almost meant to be, and he is at ease holding you close. He wonders for a moment how badly Simmons would glare at him, and for how long she wouldn’t speak to him, if she was watching them right now.
“Do ya know how to ballroom dance?” You inquire as the guitar riff fills the empty room.
“Nah.”
“Me neither.”
“This is going to go horribly.”
“Eh, so what?” He steps away from the bed, taking you with him, and starts to spin in a small, slow circle. It takes a little time but your feet find the rhythm of the song and although there is little more than swaying and stepping in the rough shape of a square, the two of you look pretty good. You tap the rhythm of the song out on his shoulder and keep time with your feet and he returns the favor by lightly pressing his fingers in tune with the song into the small of your back.
You began the dance far apart, watching one another’s feet so as not to step on the toes of your partner, then with time the magnetic force of the Arctic Monkeys drew you together. The song ended with you chest to chest with Fitz; arms more wrapped around each other than in a proper dancing position. They say that when you look into someone’s eyes long enough your heartbeat synchs with theirs, you wondered to yourself if the same went for dancing because it seemed every breath you took Fitz too as well. With breath and heart entwined and in synch you and Fitz found a moment of felicity in a dark world.
As the next melody begins to play neither of you make a move to begin a second dance. Your head rests in the crook of his shoulder and Fitz turns his head and rests it against your neck, your hair tickles his nose but he doesn’t mind. The two of you have never been this close before, well, once he gave you a piggy back ride through the lab when you two stayed up way too late working on modifying the night night gun. But this was astronomically different. The way he held you was not playful, not comforting like a friendly hug, but loving and calming and exciting all at once. He held you like the end of the world was swiftly approaching and these were his last moments in the land of the living, and he was going to savor them.
How long had you been standing like this? Had the next song passed already? It was hard to tell. But as his breath prickled on your neck and your heart began to pick up the pace; thumping harder as time drew on. What was this? Could he just be tired, exhausted from worry and sleep exhaustion because the beds here were awful? It was possible he needed physical comfort because tracking down Ward brought up unsettling memories. You didn’t seem him receiving many hugs; maybe he needed to be hugged for so long to make up for the absence of embraces. None of the ideas floating through your head fit the criteria of the situation, this was different, this was not anything you’d experience between yourself and Fitz before. This was a whole new, exciting territory.
And something you’re not sure you are ready for.
You pull your head away from his, making a gap between your bodies, but your arms don’t leave Leo’s torso.
“Y/N?” He asks, saddened that you’ve distanced yourself. Now Fitz worries he’s made you uncomfortable. Dang it, he should have let go sooner, how could he have done this? You’ll probably avoid him for the rest of the mission; you are no doubt horribly uncomfortable with this sort of prolonged touch. It is not like you go around hugging people for more than a minute straight…
“I-“What is there to say? What can you say? This sort of thing has never happened with Fitz before. He’s never once flirted with you, never once complimented more than your outfit, absolutely nothing before this very second. Yeah, you’ve stared at him when he isn’t paying attention and outline his body with your eyes. But who doesn’t check out their very attractive friends from time to time. That’s normal… right? Your gaze travels from his searching eyes, down the path of his nose, and stay on his lips.
No, no, no! Fool of a Took what are you doing?! You shout at yourself and pull a little farther away, stand up straighter and plaster on a visibly forced smile. “I’m sorry, forgot the steps.” You pull him back into the same pattern you two danced previously, but it is out of beat with the new song, “I Lived” by One Republic. It doesn’t take long to come to an awkward standstill.
Attraction is a funny thing. At times you’ll meet someone who is drop dead gorgeous, but with time their looks fade into a blur of boring symmetry. Then there are those who are cute enough to make your stomach flip right off the bat and with time the round cheeks and pink lips become mesmerizing beautiful, every single day you’re around them they just become prettier and prettier. Fitz was not the first or the second option for you; instead he was the third, the rarest of the bunch that you’ve encountered. You’d found him cute, in an adorable dorky way, but never attractive per say. Sure, he was better than average, but Fitz never fell into the category of your “type”.
But as you came to a second standstill with the music fading into the distance of your senses Fitz transformed right before your eyes. You saw him as your best friend who had been at your side for the last, horrible months, the man who had withstood more than you could hope imagine. He was beautiful to you all at once, and you tumbled into the conclusion you were in love with Leo Fitz. It came as a surprise, but not exactly unexpected. The thought Huh, guess I’m in love with Fitz didn’t feel wrong or forced or out of place in your mind, instead it felt- right. Like this was the perfect time to come to this conclusion.
“Y/N?” He sounds a little worried. You after all have been staring at him blankly for forty five seconds and had only blinked three times.
“I’m going to have to kiss you now,”
“I- What?!” He yelps but does not move away.
“Is that ok?”
A moment of silence where Fitz tries very hard to process what was happening ensued.
“Yes,” He says finally.
“Ok,” You move quickly, pulling your hands from his back to his cheeks, holding his cheeks in your palms with your fingers in his hair as you rise up onto tiptoes. His hands rise slowly, one cupping the shape of your ribs and the on the nape of your neck. Your soft hair is pulled into a pony tail and little wisps of it tickles his fingers, he tries not to smile but it is so hard.
A blaring alarm near the entrance of the room breaks up the kiss and Fitz cringes before pulling away from you, sprinting to the surveillance set up.
“Blasted moth,” he swears.