Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Morse and Hunter were inseparable. Geniuses beyond compare really, their lives encapsulating one another’s since they were fresh faced kids in a world neither of them could truly understand. Hell, they’d even gotten married, and it’d seemed as though they would forever be inseparable. Except, life never works out the way anyone plans it to, and with joining the Phil Coulson’s team, spending quite literally every waking moment in each other’s company, and trying to come to terms with the fall of, really, the only thing they’d ever known took its toll.

It was no surprise when, after weeks and months of bickering that had boiled over into the worst argument they’d ever had, Bobbi had served Hunter the divorce papers before leaving at the first chance she’d gotten. And once he’d had a chance to breathe, away from her all consuming presence, Hunter realised just how much he needed Bobbi in his life, how much he’d depended on her to make it all seem right again. But he hadn’t been given any say in the matter, left all alone just like when he was a kid, and without his other half, he’d knuckled down big time. Gone was the loud mouthed Lance Hunter who was always making snarky comments, in his place there was a much more subdued man, one who was in a seemingly never ending turmoil. 

The months spent trying to help Coulson rebuild SHIELD had been difficult to say the least, the man had become far more secretive, and with his teammates being stretched thinner than ever, Hunter found himself more often than not losing himself in his work. It hadn’t been as bad when Mack made it to the Playground, and honestly the relief at knowing he’d survived the “Hydrapocalypse” as he and Skye called it was unquantifiable. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d teared up when the man had made his presence known to the Brit. And sure, the uncertainty of Bobbi’s safety was a genuine fear of his, one that had kept him up at night more times than he’d care to admit, but she’d never not been fully capable, and it was something he’d always admired about her.

So, the loneliness had eased up slightly. Not an awful lot, after all there was no one quite like Barbara Morse, but he found the time to hang out with the team, catching up on the field missions he’d been grounded from, even having a beer or two with May on one very strange evening. But he’d settled into a new routine, a new way of life which wasn’t totally repulsive, and Hunter had found himself even looking forward to what may come, which, with his profession, could well be anything and everything. That is, until Coulson had brought in Izzy and her mercenaries, more specifically the very mysterious Fitz.

Because while he’d known Izzy for years, since her and Victoria Hand had expressed interest in one of his and Bobbi’s first collaborative projects, and Idaho was a chatty enough bloke, this Fitz was a total mystery to him. And, by the sounds of it, a mystery to the rest of them as well. In fact Hunter was certain he’d heard Skye cursing up a storm in her bunk one day about the distinct lack of information about him on any of her hacking networks, and even May looked a little perplexed at the bearded man. That wasn’t to say none of them hadn’t tried to get to know him, but outside of a courtesy head nod and a hello out of him, he hadn’t uttered more than five or so words consecutively around any of them.

From the sounds of it, or more specifically the looks on Idaho and Izzy’s faces when he had said things to them, those sparse words were something of a miracle in and of itself. But his muteness was nothing of importance in comparison with his efficiency and the skill he demonstrates in the field. Watching him from afar is something akin to magic, in Hunter’s eyes anyway, because he’d never seen anyone look so graceful and composed when taking out targets. Well, aside from May, but everyone and their mum knew that the only reason that May was the way she was is due to what went down in Bahrain, whatever that was. So it’s safe to say that he felt fondly about this Fitz character. 

And yet, every time he tried to find him, seek him out, get him to join the team in some form or another, he’d just managed to disappear. At first, Hunter had presumed it was something to do with losing his team, losing Izzy and Idaho had hit all of them pretty hard, but to be the only survivor, Christ Hunter couldn’t imagine it, but even after the pain would’ve began to ebb away, he still repelled himself as far away from the team as physically possible. Every now and again, Hunter caught a glimpse of the shorter man hovering outside of the lab, his gaze almost wistful, but for some reason the moment he appeared also seemed to be the moment he left. By that point, he’d all but given up on ever getting to properly know the man, but when Coulson offered him a proper job in SHIELD, it seemed all Hunter’s wishes had been answered.

So with a little manipulation of circumstances, such as getting Skye to drag him into the common room one evening seeing as no one could deter a determined Skye even if it killed them, Hunter managed to get Fitz to hang out with them. That, while being one of his greatest achievements, also ended up being a potential precursor to Hunter’s untimely death, because Jesus Christ it was bad enough when he’d been just a pretty face with piercing baby blues, but a pretty face with a raspy accented voice, calloused hands, and intellect to spare. It was like his dream man all wrapped up into one “mysterious mercenary Fitz” bundle. And although Fitz still refrained from speaking all that much, just some well thought out questions and dry remarks which indicated he’d been listening to Hunter’s babbling, Hunter found himself becoming even more intrigued by the man.

From that night on, it seemed whenever Fitz wasn’t off training or out on a mission, he was hanging around the lab, a silent presence which Hunter used to bounce ideas off of whenever he’d hit a wall. Plus, it wasn’t exactly unwelcome that he acted as an unintentional bodyguard, keeping the more irritating lab techs far away from Hunter’s space, leaving him with far more emails than inquisitive questioning that always left him exhausted by the end of the work day. And as the team grew closer, and Hunter realised that while he couldn’t ever just fill the void of Bobbi’s departure and that he could stand on his own two feet once again, he found himself falling down a dangerous rabbit hole. Because while he was sure that he would always love Bobbi, the feelings he had for Fitz were no more platonic than his feelings for his ex-wife, and he was slowly beginning to accept that that was okay as well.

But then, almost out of nowhere, Raina resurfaced and had threatened to blow Bobbi’s cover, at Hydra of all places, and suddenly that baseline level of fear had surged into something he couldn’t seem to get a hold of. Bobbi, his Bobbi, the woman who got him through some of the worst times of his life, was in mortal danger, just because Coulson wouldn’t even consider negotiating with Raina. And once again, he’s thankful that Fitz was there with him, sat across from him at the table, preventing him from doing something as stupid as storming over there and socking Coulson, his boss and the only reason he wasn’t in military prison for treason, in the gob. Although by the steely look on Fitz’s face, the usually level headed man seemed to be annoyed somewhat as well. 

Once Raina was suitably tagged and sent on her way, having given them an address for a place nearby, Hunter is near-on fuming with Coulson. It’d been bad enough being kept in the dark all these months, his impending divorce being swung over his head like the bloody sword of Damocles itself to keep it that way, but to leave a valuable agent, and more importantly, his fucking wife alone like that was just unforgivable. And by the time they’d all made it back to base, the true horrors of Skye’s father having only just begun to unravel themselves, with none of them any the wiser as to Bobbi’s status, he just wants to curl up in bed and cry. But when Fitz gently led him into the labs, clearing them out with a single glare and pushing Hunter down into a seat to try and help him take a breath, Hunter’s original plans went out of the window. 

Feeling as though he could take a breath, his shoulders still weighed down by the uncertainty of everything, Hunter finally looked down at Fitz, crouched in front of the chair with concern seeped into his every pore, and thanked whatever may be for putting this wonderful man in his life. He squeezed the hand resting on the arms of the chair, smiling thankfully for the man’s peaceful presence, but just before he could officially call himself calm enough to confront Coulson, he heard the lab door open. And there was Bobbi, not a scratch on her, brown hair tumbling down her shoulders, a burgundy coat he didn’t recognise draped over her arms, stood next to a much shorter brunette woman. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that Bobbi was currently taking up all of his attention, Hunter would’ve noticed Fitz standing to attention like a soldier presented with a drill sergeant just as he launched himself from the desk chair.

“Hey Hunter. Nice suit.” Bobbi said, and it was just so her that he could feel his breath leave lungs.

Now, this had been the moment he’d spent months waiting for, preparing for, dreaming about. He’d tell Bobbi how sorry he is, and how he’s such a twat, and how he never wanted to leave her side again. However it seemed that anger and frustration took over, boiling up after months of the rage simmering in the background. 

“‘Nice suit?’ Really? That’s what you’re leading with?” He paused momentarily. “What did you do to your hair?”

“Ever heard of undercover?”

“I prefer you blonde!”

“Well I didn’t do it for you. Two seconds in, there’s already a tone.”

He physically recoiled at that comment, it's always been one of the first things to be brought up in an argument, despite his hatred for her bringing it up. Fitz gravitated towards him slightly, brushing his shoulder against the taller man’s in support, and it was then that Hunter noticed how pale Fitz seemed at the other presence in the lab.

“This isn’t a tone. This is my speaking voice when I’m upset with an unreasonable person.” He snapped, scowling at her and her stupid brown hair.

His chest heaved as he prepared himself for another verbal lashing off of his still current wife, but their argument grinded to a halt as the other woman spoke softly, resting one hand in Bobbi’s forearm as reaching another out to Fitz, who subtly edged away from it. Her voice matched her looks, soft, doe-eyed, unassuming, but he was sure that anyone who would have to go undercover at somewhere like Hydra would have to be unassuming enough that no one would question her presence or any affiliations she’d had with the enemy. Either way, he doesn’t like how in a matter of seconds, Fitz had gone from the open and unknowingly charming mercenary turned SHIELD agent to the recluse he had been when Izzy had brought him and Idaho to the Playground.

“Hi Fitz.” She said softly, as if she were speaking to some wounded animal and not the more than capable agent he was. 

For some reason it irked Hunter, maybe because he knew how brilliant the man was, or maybe because they’d clearly had a past that was as uneasy as his and Bobbi’s.

“Simmons.” He said blandly, standing straighter and tilting his chin up so he didn’t quite have to look her in the eye. “Is that really you?”

This sent her into a brief fit of giggles, but from the way his arms tensed against Hunter’s, he could tell that whatever reason behind his question was no laughing matter. She sobers up in seconds, but in that time Fitz is truly guarded once more, his eyes steely and his posture impeccable.

“Of course it is. Who else would it be?” Stepping closer to him, Hunter had to resist the urge to pull Fitz behind him, as if he’d be the one to protect the specialist and not the other way round. “How’ve you been?”

The well meaning question sent him speeding out of the lab at breakneck speed, and although he could see this Simmons bird was raring to go, he shook his head at her. Instead, he told Bobbi that they needed to talk later, about everything, before chasing after the man, unsurprisingly winding up in the training room. It was currently empty of all people except for one Leo Fitz, who had turned around briefly to acknowledge Hunter’s presence before carrying on beating and kicking the shit out of a punching bag. Able to do little more than watch from the sidelines, Hunter took a lap of the gym before stopping directly in line with the punching bag and Fitz, wincing every time his unwrapped knuckles made contact.

It took a while for him to get it all out of his system, and Hunter was frankly exhausted just watching him do it, but when he did, he simply slumped to the ground, grabbing onto the punching bag to stabilise it in case it decided to repeat on him. Taking that as his cue, Hunter rushed over to him, uncurling Fitz’s hands and doing his best to avoid touching his split knuckles, sitting on the floor with Fitz. He waited for Fitz to nod his permission before trying to touch him elsewhere, and when he finally did, Hunter pulled him into the tightest one armed hug he’d ever given, rubbing the man’s arm while reassuring him that whatever it is, it’d all be okay in the end.

Thankfully, no one had disturbed them, and for the first time ever, he thanked Coulson’s tendency to run mission debriefings which felt longer than the Queen’s Speech at Christmas. Neither one of them tried to articulate their thoughts, after all what can you say to the absolute crapshoot of a day that they’d had, and especially how it ended like this. But after a while, Fitz began to pull away, not out of want but rather because he was working to rebuild those walls Hunter had fought tooth and nail to rip down, and he’d be damned if this woman managed to do all of that in a matter of minutes.

“Look, mate, I know talking isn’t exactly your thing, but by the looks of it this Agent Simmons is here to stay, so please, talk to me about it. I’ll even talk to you about Bobbi, no bullshit, not too much whinging either.”

Fitz snorted quietly and took a moment to mull it over, before nodding and jumping up off of the cold padded flooring, a hand stretched out for Hunter to grab onto as leverage. He felt his hand tingle slightly as their skin made contact, but he ignored it in favour of following Fitz out of the gym and into the bunk area, gawping slightly when he opened up his bunk for Hunter to come in. It was almost like crossing holy ground, Hunter knew it wasn’t sacred persay, but he’d never been in here before, and bedrooms are probably one of the better reflections of who a person really is. Either way, he remained cautious when entering, toeing his shoes off and placing them by his dresser before taking the room in.

It’s rather sparse, although given the lifestyle he’d led up until joining SHIELD, that’s to no real surprise, but Hunter did smile when he saw the little stuffed monkey he’d picked up for him on a supply run one day sat proudly on his bedside table. Fitz clearly didn’t see any issues with Hunter coming into his room, and waved the man over to join him on the bed. Hunter sat down a respectful distance away, or as respectful as possible on a tiny single bed, and sat quietly, thoughts running wild in his head as he theorised all of the potential reasons why the Scotsman had reacted so viscerally to this agent Hunter had never come across before.

“So,” Fitz said, his voice raspier than normal, “me and Simmons, we’re... well we’re complicated. We met a while ago, and became partners real quick. Not romantically, but she had my six and I had hers. But then a few years ago, it all went wrong.”

He began coughing, his throat clearly rebelling against this much talking all in one go, so Hunter decided to take over.

“Me and Bob are still married. Technically. Haven’t signed the divorce papers yet, and I don’t know if we will. But we’ve had our fair share of ups and downs, we’re both pretty stubborn, and hard headed. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I love her, but sometimes it’s hard to like her, especially when she left the way she did. And now with you and Simmons in the mix, our relationship just got a whole lot more complicated.”

“We got captured, tortured by this Hydra big wig’s brainwashing victim who thought the sun shone out of John Garrett’s arse. I took the brunt of it, more fractures and contusions than was good for me, for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to physically hurt her, Jemma that is, Simmons. But then he brought out the water barrel, threw me in and locked it shut. It took Simmons eight minutes to get me out, six minutes without oxygen, and after we were rescued I was put in a medically induced coma for nine days.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Leo!”

Fitz took another pause, more for Hunter’s sake than his own, steadying his breathing and grabbing hold of Hunter’s hand to anchor the engineer to Fitz’s bed. Whatever images his mind was concocting would be far from pretty, and it was hard enough to think about after all these years of compartmentalising and suppressing the memories, so he was sure Hunter would be struggling just as much as he had in those first few weeks.

“When I woke up, the doctor told me I had severe traumatic brain injuries, hypoxia induced aphasia as well as a drastic decline in my fine motor skills, and some damage to my vocal chords. Recovery had been a bitch, and at first Je- Simmons had been by my side, but after a while, she’d began to pull away, and one day she just left, leaving a note for me to remember her by.”

“I don’t begrudge her, but when she did leave, I started hallucinating, was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder due to genetics and trauma. But the worse thing was that I was hallucinating her, and when I was deemed fit for combat, I couldn’t stop seeing her in the line of fire, and nearly died because of it. So, yeah, it’s hard, seeing her again. I’d made my peace with that a long time ago. Fuck man, I thought I was losing my mind all over again, seeing her with Bobbi.”

For the second time that night, Hunter pulled Fitz into a hug, squeezing his arm reassuringly before resting his head on Fitz’s shoulder. They sat in silence, Hunter now noticing the pill box in the far corner of the room, his breaths evening out as he pondered over how to bring up the mess that is his relationship status combined with his feelings for Fitz. But it seemed he didn’t need to, as Fitz pulled out his phone, clearly exhausted from the last minute training session coupled with more talking that Hunter’s ever heard from him, not to mention the emotional upheaval that his speech had brought. The former mercenary typed quickly, asking Hunter about how he wanted to go about all of this: his marriage, their friendship which was on its way elsewhere, the former almost relationship he’d had with Simmons. 

“Well, I’m gonna go talk to Bob in the morning, about how I feel about her, and if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you there too. Not to bombard her or anything, but, you’ve seen how we get, and I don’t want it to be like that, you know? I wanna save this. From there, I guess lots of talking, you with Jemma, me with Bob, you and I, anything else that comes out of our conversations really. I don’t think I could stomach losing you Fitz.”

“Me too.” He rasped out, his voice sounding like it was on its last legs.

“How about for tonight we sleep together?” Fitz turned to him incredulously, and Hunter gently whacked his chest in mock chastisement in response. “Not like that, get your mind out of the gutter! Maybe when I’m not at risk of being hung up by my balls by my darling wife for committing infidelity.

Shrugging in response, Fitz took a couple moments to strip down to his boxers and chucked on a pair of grey joggers, smirking at Hunter’s roaming eyes before sending him back to his own bunk to get changed and brush his teeth. He returned minutes later to find Fitz lying on the bed, arms raised behind his head with his pill box having been moved to reside on his bedside table. Letting Hunter climb in so that he was next to the wall, Fitz allowed the taller man to adjust them however he fancied, smiling when Hunter curled around his back, one hand supporting Fitz’s head and the other draped over his stomach. Smiling back at him, Fitz turned the light off with Hunter’s permission before shuffling back and closing his eyes, muttering his goodnight wishes and grinning when he gets a response back that is just as soft and content.

Chapter Text

When Hunter woke up to the sound of a rather piercing alarm, he couldn’t help but notice how, for the first time in months, since before Bobbi had served the divorce papers really, he felt well rested and warm. Opening his eyes, he found that Fitz had turned around in the night, and was now facing him, his face slack with sleep, the man looking far younger than he normally did now that he wasn’t consciously carrying the weight of everything on his shoulders. He smiled at the blue eyed man, who grumpily bats at the alarm behind him, and when he finally silenced it and opened his eyes, Hunter marvelled at the depths to them, the little specks of gold and green brightening them, as the soft lamp light covers him like a halo.

Fitz didn’t say anything, clearing his throat and wincing seconds later, but he did lift his hand and cupped Hunter’s cheek with it, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone with such care, like he was a delicate treasure. After a minute of silently staring into each other’s eyes, Fitz pulled away, sitting up on the edge of the bed and opening his pill box, Hunter staring incredulously as he swallowed the rather large pills dry. As much as he wanted to ask what the meds did, Hunter knew he had more tact than that, and instead waited for Fitz to head off to the bathroom before getting out of the now not so cosy bed. He watched as Fitz trotted out minutes later, his stubble trimmed and him wearing his usual all black ensemble, fit with his leather jacket on top, and Hunter planned on making his way out, knowing how everyone and their mum would notice if he started dressing like the Scotsman over his usual hoodies, jeans and t-shirts.

But before he could get up and go, Fitz headed to his drawers and chucked some clothes at him, Hunter chuckling when he realised how similar it was to his usual get up. And when Hunter went into the bathroom, he found some brand new toiletries had been left on the sink for him, and even let out a cackle when he noticed the smiley face drawn on the condensation on the mirror. It was honestly adorable, and just added to Fitz’s quirks. The man who nearly everyone on base feared, was really a giant marshmallow on the inside, so considerate he nearly killed Hunter with kindness at times. He quickly got ready for the day, thankful that the Fitz that had last worn these clothes was pretty much his size, and the only thing Hunter had had to do was, sadly, uncuff the jeans that were slightly too long for the other man. At least that answered that question.

Coming back into the bedroom, Hunter found Fitz leaning against the wall, his feet now covered in his usual combat boots, patiently waiting for the other man to finish getting ready. He waited for Hunter to put on his shoes before opening the door for him, motioning for him to go ahead before they left for the kitchen. Hunter kept up a steady stream of chatter, one which was predominantly responded to with head nods and shakes, before arriving in the kitchen, Jemma and Bobbi already sat at the island and chatting to themselves. Fitz stiffened up momentarily before shaking it off, sending Hunter a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and walking in beside him, making a bee-line for the coffee pot, pouring two cups for Hunter and Bobbi before making a cup of tea for Jemma and getting a glass of water for himself.

They all thank him, Jemma and Bobbi letting out soft gasps when they tasted their beverages and realised it had been made exactly to their tastes, and as he leant against the table, Hunter nudged him with his elbow, smirking knowingly. At first they tried to skirt around the subject, with Jemma and Bobbi asking Hunter his work, in particular the stuff he’d done since Bobbi had left for her mission, with Fitz drifting further from the table and gravitating towards leaning against the wall nearby, physically distancing himself from them in order to ground himself. But the moment that Hunter caught on, he knew that they couldn’t avoid it any longer, not really.

“Stop. Guys, come on, we need to talk. All of us. No more avoiding our problems because it seems like we’re all here to stay, at least for the meantime.”

Bobbi looked ready to dispute the need to talk, but as her gaze flickered between her known variables and the stranger who knew them, she quickly realised that her husband was right. So, she’d sprinted out of the kitchen, coming back minutes later with a key to one of the common rooms and the morning off for all of them as per Director’s orders, not that any of them wanted to question just how she’d managed to get that sorted. Following her through the empty early morning corridors into the room Hunter had internally dubbed as the team’s room, they get themselves situated, Fitz refusing to sit down with Bobbi sitting on the sofa between her husband and her saviour from Hydra’s goons. 

“I guess I’ll go first.” Hunter said after some minutes of awkward silence had passed, none of them eager enough to start. “Bobbi, I don’t want to get the divorce. I know we went wrong in a lot of ways, but I’m still in love with you and I think I will always be in love with you. But, saying that, I do have feelings for Fitz, and I don’t think I could choose one of you over the other. As for Jemma, I don’t know you well enough to say if there’s feelings there, but I can’t deny that you are incredibly attractive.”

“Thank you for being honest Hunter. I, I don’t want to get divorced either, you may be a pain in my ass but I hated being alone in Hydra, I kept missing you and it was pretty rough without you. I don’t want to be presumptuous here, or overstep a boundary, but I am definitely physically attracted to Fitz and Jemma, and if we get to know one another, we may even find there are more feelings there.

Hunter was proud to note that both Jemma and Fitz had blushed red at both of their declarations, Fitz less so with Hunter’s and Jemma less so with Bobbi’s, but he could tell that the real make or break decision would be if Jemma and Fitz could overcome their past together. Not that he would blame Fitz for not being able to get over what he dealt with following Jemma leaving with him, nor that he blamed her for leaving, but it was clear that whatever comfort and understanding they’d had with one another had been lost in the years since Fitz’s initial recovery. From the look on Bobbi’s face, she was probably thinking the same exact thing, just with whatever information Jemma had offered up to her last night after the terrible reunion on all of their parts.

If he had been confident enough that Fitz wouldn’t bolt out of there if Hunter attempted to comfort him, he would’ve dragged the man over to the sofa and cuddled him, but seeing as Fitz had been on edge since he’d left his bedroom half an hour ago, he doubted anything positive would come to fruition. Instead, Hunter watched the man, eyes darting to his knuckles which have gone a stark white colour from how tightly he’d been clenching his fists. Thankfully, the quietly tense atmosphere is broken in moments, when Jemma offered up her own perspective. She freely admitted having grown fond of Bobbi during her stint at Hydra, and said how she couldn’t deny Hunter’s attractiveness, but when it came to Fitz, she clammed up.

“I… It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly how I feel about you Fitz, because I don’t really know you anymore. There’s no point in refuting that you’re an incredibly attractive and well-proportioned man, but in terms of feelings, I was in love with you. In fact, leaving you that day was without a shadow of a doubt the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but I did it because I was in love with you. But now, I don’t know Fitz.”

Hunter’s eyes dart to Fitz, the shorter man practically vibrating with a plethora of energy of some description, what kind of energy he couldn’t tell, but it was clear that those words either weren’t what he’d expected and had hurt him, or were exactly what he’d anticipated and had hit him in places he’d let scab over. Either way, it was clear that Fitz was doing his utmost to prevent an explosion of epic proportions, to not lash out at her and allow a woman who for all intents and purposes was a total stranger to witness the carnage that followed suit. He started pacing back and forth, the fact that he was rubbing the palm of his hand being the only indicator that the conversation was truly getting to him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Jemma.” He whispered, his voice barely perceptible to the people sat ten feet away from him, and Hunter felt incredibly guilty for encouraging to talk so much the night prior.

“The truth Fitz, your truth. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? Talking everything out.” She said, adopting that wounded animal tone that had begun to wind Hunter up slightly, not that he’d ever say anything to her about it.

“I fancy Hunter. He knows that, knows everything. Bobbi, from what I’ve heard, you’re a wonderful person, and obviously you’re gorgeous. Simmons, I…” his voice trailed off, and he threw his hands in the air in frustration.

Hunter took note of his hand movements, and knowing that Bobbi had had a decent friendship with Birdbrain, he nudged her in the ribs, hoping that he was using the ASL she knew and not any other variation of sign language. Her eyes widened, and after taking a few moments to let the words sync in, she asked him if he’d like her to translate whatever he’s signing, thankful for Clint being so forgetful and losing his hearing aids every other day and practically forcing her to pick it up. Fitz stopped in his tracks, angling his body in a way that Bobbi would be able to see his facial expressions along with the signs, and dismissively waved her off when she told him she was going to be more than a little rusty.

“So Fitz says that he was in love with you too. Well, you knew that already, but you took off without saying goodbye or giving him the chance to talk it out with you. And he isn’t mad at you for leaving to put your own needs first, but he’s mad that you did what you thought was best for him without consulting him or treating like he was mentally capable of understanding why you would have to leave.”

“He says his feelings never disappeared, and he has always loved you in one way or another, but at the moment he doesn’t know if he can trust you again. Especially since… Jesus Fitz! Are you sure you want me to tell her that? Okay, especially since he can’t be sure that you being here isn’t him hallucinating again and a sign that his meds aren’t working anymore.”

The awkward atmosphere gained a melancholy tone as the weight of Fitz’s words sank in for them all, in particular Jemma who looked as though she was seconds away from crying. Fitz looks physically pained at her quiet sniffles as they resonated through the silent common room, and to Hunter’s disbelief, he pushed himself away from the wall and strode over to Jemma, pulling her into a hug when his words failed him. That was the tipping point for the SHIELD agent and her tears began flooding down her face, which Fitz held against his chest. Bobbi and Hunter watched on awkwardly for a moment, Hunter grabbing Bobbi’s hand and squeezing it to try and reassure her that all would be okay, but after huffing out a soft sigh, Fitz waved them over, letting them join the hug should they wish to, with Jemma’s tears slowly easing up as Hunter and Bobbi get involved.

After a few more minutes of hugging, Bobbi and Hunter started to pull away, Jemma following suit a few moments later, her mascara smudged around her eyes and presumably had transferred onto Fitz’s t-shirt as well, but thanks to the all black ensemble it’s barely noticeable. They all settled down on the sofas, Fitz took a seat with Jemma on the sofa next to Bobbi and Hunter’s, and after a minute’s peace and quiet, they began to discuss all of their next steps. For starters, the divorce papers were officially put on hold for good, both Hunter and Bobbi agreeing they’d been rash in trying to end their marriage in that way. 

“What about us four?” Bobbi asked, gesturing towards Fitz and Jemma and the uncomfortable posture he held in her presence.

“I think it’s safe to say that what we’re going to be working towards here is some kind of closed polyamorous relationship, in the sense that it’ll be us four together in some way. Obviously, we already have some, established partners, like yourself and Hunter, and by the sounds of it, Leo and Hunter aren’t far off of it either. Then you have those like myself and Bobbi, Hunter and I, and Fitz and Bobbi who don’t really know one another, so would be platonic for the time being until such a time where it felt comfortable to continue romantically or discovered that there just aren’t those feelings there, and remain friends.”

Jemma visibly struggled for the moment, trying to find the best way to word what her and Fitz’s relationship would be like.

“And, you have me and Jemma who need a shit load of therapy before even beginning to consider a non-platonic relationship.”

“Yes, exactly. So while ending up in some kind of mutually romantic four way relationship may be the end result, we also have to consider that not being the case.”

Hunter hummed quietly, waiting a moment before asking some of the more burning questions which came to mind, in regards to the job, what they’d tell the team, would they have allotted times to discuss any issues that arrived or would it be a when possible basis? Together, they worked to get a clear understanding of what their boundaries would be, in terms of what others did with one another, what things were off limits for all of them, what to do if anyone feels as though something different was needed, and how they would discuss the possibility of being with other people should it ever arrive at that point. By the time they’d come to a natural ending, all of them exhausted from the intense conversation they’d had for hours, all of them felt satisfied that they could leave this conversation knowing what their next moves were.

So they migrated away from the sofas, Hunter and Fitz drifting ahead as Hunter took the lead on a conversation about the FA Cup, ribbing Fitz and getting elbows jabbed into his ribs in response. Meanwhile Jemma and Bobbi walked behind them, watching their boys as they provided free entertainment to anyone who was watching, and they all wound up in Hunter and Bobbi’s lab minutes later, the lab techs taking one look at Fitz before blanching and turning their heads in the other direction. Bobbi chuckles confusedly, and when Hunter clarified that Fitz’s silent nature and increasing presence in the lab had unintentionally scared the technicians into not harassing him for his input over the tiniest of details, she nearly bowed down and thanked him right that second. Because if there is one thing that Bobbi hadn’t missed while in fear of her life at Hydra, it was having low level scientists harass her at every turn.

However, Fitz soon took his leave, jogging down towards the gym for training with Skye and May, leaving Jemma to watch the scientists at work. And she had thrived at it, shyly admitting that she had a PhD of her own in biology, but rarely ever got to use it nowadays, being assigned to the fieldwork side of the agency more often than not. Working together felt almost natural, and Hunter finally had his Bobbi back to bounce ideas off of, only now she also came with a fully capable field agent who was like an eager puppy when getting to experiment with the high tech equipment kept for the scientists to play with. 

In fact, they all got so enraptured in their work and discussions, Hunter using the time to better get to know the effervescent Jemma Simmons, that they fail to notice Fitz’s initial return hours later, his curls still damp from his post workout shower, and only notice his second when he comes back ladened down with food and drinks. Rather when he dropped the food on an empty nearby workbench and waited for the scent of the nourishment would cause one of them, presumably Hunter, to pause the conversation in order to locate the source of the food. Four minutes and twenty seven seconds later, Hunter’s head shot up, and he scrunched his nose up as he took in his surroundings, and more importantly Fitz with the packaged food so no chemicals would contaminate it.

He practically sprinted over to him, his eyes wide as his hunger hit him properly, and Bobbi and Jemma followed right behind him, grabbing the brown bag that Fitz had labelled for them, to find the homemade lunches he’d prepared for him. They all thanked him profusely, and Bobbi began interrogating him on how he knew what to get her, Jemma and Hunter dismissing her concerns and calling him a food psychic, well Hunter called him that, Jemma just called him rather observant. For a moment they dropped the conversation, and Bobbi asked him about his lunch, however Fitz pointed out to them that it was almost gone two o’clock now, and that his training session had lasted until quarter past one, making the trio realise just how much time had flown when working together.

Mid-bite of her sandwich, Jemma froze, realising she’d been scheduled for a training session with Trip and Coulson at half past one, but Fitz hastily reassured her that he’d let the others know how absorbed she’d gotten into the science when retrieving the food for them. Swallowing the rest of her bite, she grinned brightly at him, with Fitz returning a shy smile in response, she quickly began to get Fitz up to speed with all they’d done, and laughed along when she’d complained about their filing system, and how it made absolutely no sense. Green? For biological samples? No it ought to be B is for blue is for biological, everyone knows this.

Given how he’d mouthed along to the words a split second ahead of Jemma, it seemed as though this was a conversation which she’d had rather frequently with him during their time as partners. Hunter couldn’t help but smile at the two’s friendship rekindling itself, very slowly and it would remain fragile for a while, but it was good to see Fitz let loose with someone else. Not too much though, otherwise his power over the more annoying lab technicians would cease to exist and then Hunter and Bobbi would once again be bombarded with stupid questions even in his presence.

After all, it had to be mutually beneficial for all of them, seeing as Coulson was getting more and more antsy over the number of complaints he’d been getting over Fitz’s presence, and honestly he was probably one email away from telling all of them that unless Fitz had said anything unkind or had deliberately been in the way, his presence in the lab was not a good enough reason to report him. But until the day Coulson put a ban on him being in the lab, Hunter had intended on making the most of it. Besides, he’d like to see how vindictive Fitz would become if he was aware of the situation, and had been thrown out of the lab because of it. Now that, that was something Hunter would pay to see.

Soon enough, Jemma couldn’t avoid heading to the gym any longer, and took off down the corridor, her heeled boots loudly clicking as she sped down the linoleum flooring. Fitz took all of their food rubbish outside, throwing it in a nearby bin before coming back and taking a seat on the empty workbench they’d congregated around earlier, borrowing one of the spare tablets and desktops so that he could finish his reports. He kept an ear out for Bobbi and Hunter, making sure that they didn’t devolve into World War Three without Jemma around to keep the peace, but aside from being dragged into a few harmless bickering matches, it stayed relatively civil.

And by the time Jemma returned to the lab a couple hours later, Fitz had fully abandoned the paperwork in favour of passing Hunter tools and listening to Bobbi explain the research she had been carrying out over at Hydra, which Jemma had thankfully rescued before their last minute escape. She’d practically slumped down on the worktop, and while Bobbi and Hunter were rather concerned, Fitz just prompted them to carry on the conversation, reassuring them that once she’d had a moment to sit down and rest she’d be right as rain and back to her usual cheery self. Not in so many words, as his throat was still giving him jip, but that was the general message he was conveying anyway. And he’d been right, seconds later she’d sprung up off of the bench and began bombarding them with questions about what she’d missed. 

They all worked together until it was the end of the working day, at least the working day if they weren’t SHIELD agents, and having received no new urgent missions or dangerous samples to analyse, they took the chance to make a break for one of the quieter kitchens. Before Fitz could even open his mouth and ask for suggestions, Hunter had dragged him over to the table to sit with Bobbi and Jemma, shushing his protests before they could even pass his lips. Instead Hunter tore around the kitchen like a man on a mission, sliding along the wooden flooring as he darted from cupboard to cupboard, pulling pots and pans out along with an inordinate amount of food.

To pass the time as Hunter cooked, the man stubbornly refusing to accept any of their help, they began playing twenty one questions, nothing too soul wrenching, just little facts to build on their ideas of one another in their minds, to better understand their quirks. When six o’clock hit, Fitz ducked out of the kitchen momentarily, walking back in not even five minutes later chugging a bottle of water. He rejoined the game without thinking too much about it, telling them that he’d had to go and take his meds when Jemma kept on staring at him, and by the time Hunter is finished cooking, they were chatting again like before, with Bobbi making a couple not so subtle (joking) remarks about how slow he is.

Hunter had always been a feeder, and if the amount of pasta he’d produced was anything to go off of, he’d prepared for an army deciding to pop in for tea last minute rather than just the four of them. But none of them complained, after all, portioning pasta is never easy, and leftovers are always appreciated, and Hunter had a clear talent for cooking that all of them were eager to monopolise after that meal. As they finished off their food, complimenting him so much that the engineer’s face was a lovely shade of bright red by the end of the meal, Jemma and Bobbi got up and started doing the dishes, glaring down the men who had been providing them food throughout the day for trying it in the first place.

When the washing up had been done to Jemma’s meticulous standards, much to Bobbi’s irritation, the four had went their separate ways, Jemma heading down to Skye’s bunk in order to set up her own tablet, Hunter heading to his bunk, Bobbi returning back to the lab to finish some tests, and Fitz heading to the gym while it was empty. They all said goodbye, with it only being somewhat awkward when no one had known what to do, before splitting off, all four of them lost in the thoughts of what may come from this. It was early early days, but they had already gotten rather far in less than a day, and while they all knew recovery was never linear, it was something at least.

Fitz had always found peace in training. Okay, maybe not always, when he’d been a less than peak condition scrawny little Scotsman it had been less peaceful and more painful, but once he’d gotten used to it, he couldn’t imagine his life without it. There was just something about being able to take out all of your frustrations on a punching bag, of constantly improving yourself, of learning new techniques and new weapons that could one day be the difference between life and death. He truly couldn’t beat the feeling, and tonight was no different. So him getting a little too caught up in the rush of it all was to no surprise, especially not his own. 

But when he’d heard something clattering behind him, in what had been an empty room, he didn’t hesitate to brandish the staff he’d been training with and point it at the intruder, coming face to face with three scientists, in particular the only three scientists he’d ever talked to, who were all speechless. He rolled his eyes, putting the weapon back in its proper place, shrugging off his sweat soaked t-shirt now he’d come to realise how uncomfortable it felt sticking to him. However that did nothing to wake any of them from their trance, in fact he’d wager it pushed them further into it, but it seemed lobbing the shirt at Hunter’s face was the best way to pull them all from it. Who knew all he needed was an incredibly dramatic Englishman who violently recoiled at the damp material hitting his face to get their attention.

“What’s up? Wha’ time is it?”

“Ah, well, you see.” Jemma started, already stalling in answering the question, despite Bobbi’s sigh from beside her.

“What Jemma is failing to say is we tried going to bed separately, that didn’t work, and wanted to see if you’d join us, no pressure. Although we hadn’t realised you were still in here or else we’d have dragged you out of here hours ago.”

“It’s not twelve yet is it? I don’t remember hearing my meds alarm go off.”

“Near enough. Come on, even if you don’t sleep with us you’ll be coming our way in a couple minutes anyway.”

Shrugging at the not so subtle command, he got to work and wiped down his equipment before throwing his sweaty t-shirt into his gym bag, checking the room over before closing it for the night. They stayed as quiet as possible as they walked through the corridors, mindful of the vast majority of agents who were fast asleep at this time of night, and when they arrived outside of the bunk that Hunter and Bobbi shared, and Fitz’s directly opposite that, he shooed them off into the larger room, promising that he just needed to take a shower in his room and that he’d be there in a few minutes. In the meantime, the trio took the chance to arrange themselves on the queen sized bed, Jemma making a few choice words about the fact that single agents only get single beds and yet couples get beds this size. 

Once Fitz had knocked on the married couple’s door, the three agents had managed to curl up on the bed and stop fidgeting, leaving just enough space on the edge closest to the door for Fitz to settle in with them. He came in bearing a water bottle, his refilled pill box, and his phone, and after getting Bobbi’s permission, moved some of her things so he could place them down in preparation for the morning. Toeing off his slippers by what was his side of the bed for the night, he shuffled under the duvet, waiting for Bobbi to give him permission before hugging her in any way, which she happily gave him, tugging him closer when he hesitated.

“Just a warning, if any of you wake me up any time before seven, and the base isn’t under attack from aliens or Skye’s dad, I will kill you and go straight back to sleep. No regrets.”

“Jesus Bob, that’s not what anyone needs to hear before they go to sleep!”

“I don’t know, it’s rather reassuring to know what boundary she’s set and what the consequences of that may be.”

“Could we not discuss this now? Bobbi, I’ll do my best not to wake you when I take my meds and I’m sure they’ll do the same if they wake up early. Jem, Hunter, don’t start an argument, I want to sleep.”

“Yes dear.”

“Sorry Fitz.”

“Hunter don’t be a smartass!”

“Guys, what did I just say?”

“In my defense, you said Jemma and I couldn’t argue, not me and Bob!”

“Hunter! Sleep!"