Simmons crept into Fitz’s bunk after leaving Trip’s side. She just wanted to ask if he was okay- to make sure the gunfire hadn’t scared him beyond what he could handle alone. Or the guilt about Trip being shot hadn’t got to him; Fitz was so bad at guilt. But she couldn’t tell if he was awake, so slowly, slowly she inched forward, walking around the bed to see his face.
She jumped. “I was only checking on you. I know it’s silly. I was just worried. Do you need anything?”
"I’m just about to fall asleep," he said tiredly. "I’m fine."
She turned to leave, but there was a hand latched around her wrist and she turned back.
"No," Fitz said, tugging her towards him.
She didn’t budge. “What’s wrong?”
"We haven’t spoken since you got back."
"Yeah, I know, but I miss you. Come here."
"I don’t think so, Fitz."
He kept tugging, just hard enough so that she had to keep her arm extended. Eventually she let him pull her down onto her bed. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. The warmth between them was strangely lulling, and he smelled like he always had. “I have work to do.”
His toes grappled at her ankles, pulling her shoes off. Her back was to him, and he couldn’t see her smile, but he felt her relax.
"Will you be more comfortable if I unlatch your bra?" he mumbled into the pillow.
"No," she said. "I’m good."
"Me too," he said. "I’m good, too."
And they still didn’t really speak, but they fell asleep pressed close to each other, and that was just as good.
