Pajamas

Summary: A sleep-deprived Coulson is forced to decipher if FitzSimmons are really as innocent as they appear to be.

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. does not belong to me.

A/N: So according to The Safety Card of the CXD23 (the BUS) posted on ABC's MAOS site, the BUS has three decks—the command deck, the upper deck, and the lower deck. It wasn't very specific on where everything was, so I'm going to make some assumptions based on what we've seen from the show. And some, I'm just going to totally make up. So if I get the plane's layout wrong from how it really is or different from how you perceived it…well, oops. Hope you still enjoy the story, though.

Warning: This is probably (totally) OOC.

Also, this one-shot has nothing to do with my other stories. It stands alone.

As per protocol, all mobile command stations, such as the BUS, followed Eastern Standard Time (EST). And since it was standard procedure, every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent should know that rule.

So why the hell was someone calling his phone at 2:00 in the freaken morning?

Despite having been in S.H.I.E.L.D. for half his life, Coulson still hated having his sleep interrupted at odd hours of the morning, most especially when he wasn't even on a mission. (During missions, he just doesn't sleep at all.) What many people did not know about the mild-mannered field agent was that he was very grumpy when he's just woken up. And he's even worse when he'd been woken up unexpectedly at a very early hour. Unfortunately for him, he was now the boss—the team's leader—so he had no choice but to force himself out of bed to answer the damned phone.

Fortunately for the person on the other end of the line, a Level 6 agent from the Seattle office, the message was deemed urgent enough in Coulson's sleep-deprived mind for him to opt not to make Mr. Level 6 suffer days upon days of immense paperwork. (Coulson's foggy mind will figure out his real name later).

The message was a mission. One that had to be worked on right away. With a sigh, he reached for the button that activated the plane's intercom system.

"Attention everyone," he heard his raspy voice echo overhead. "Wake up. We've got a mission briefing. Meet me in the Ops Center right now." It was only when he released the intercom button did he realize what he'd said. Meeting 'right now' meant he hadn't given any of them, himself included, a chance to get out of their pajamas and into some work-appropriate attire. But it was too late to take back the words now.

Oh, well, he thought. They already saw me in my workout clothes. I don't always have to be in a suit.

Since his personal quarters was on the Command Deck where the Ops Center was also located, while the rest of the team's quarters were a deck below, he wasn't surprised to find that he was the first one to arrive. May followed shortly after in a black tank top and black Pilates pants. She eyed his white crew-neck shirt and blue plaid pajama bottom curiously but didn't say anything. A few seconds later, Ward came into the room wearing navy blue boxer shorts and a black v-neck shirt. A few steps behind him was Skye, dressed in a faded-blue sweatshirt and dark gray sweatpants, both three sizes too big.

Oddly enough, FitzSimmons did not follow right behind them. As the team waited on their resident scientist duo to arrive, Coulson observed the people before him—all with bleary eyes and disheveled hair. And he thought to himself how he must not look any better. A tiny hint of irritation aimed at Mr. Level 6 began to seed itself in his mind.

Finally, about a minute later, FitzSimmons entered the Ops Center. And Coulson had to blink—and then blink a second and third time—to make sure he wasn't seeing things. For before him stood Fitz, in a pair of maroon plaid pajama bottoms…and the blue buttoned-down shirt he wore yesterday for work. The buttons weren't even lined up properly to their corresponding holes. As for Simmons, well, she was wearing the over-sized matching top of Fitz's pajama bottom…and seemingly nothing else below.

For the first time since he'd put this team together, the ever-optimistic Agent Coulson finally saw a drawback in having young, good-looking agents living and working together on a flying command station. S.H.I.E.L.D. had a very strict anti-fraternization policy. If agents on the same team were caught fraternizing, they would be separated. One or both would be reassigned. No exceptions. Not even Fury-favorites Agents Romanoff and Barton were above the anti-fraternization policy.

If FitzSimmons were in a relationship that was anything other than platonic or professional, as their superior, he'd have no choice but to report them. Then he'll either lose his engineer, his biochemist, or both. And none of those options were acceptable.

But…but…they haven't admitted to anything. And everyone knows FitzSimmons were friends. And friends shared clothes all the time…right? (He ignored the fact that, in most cases, friends of the same gender shared clothes; usually females.) As long as they did not admit to anything and they didn't do anything that blatantly showed they were more than friends; then he wouldn't have to report anything, and he could keep his rag-tag, elite team just the way it was. Oh, how he hoped, prayed, that they didn't say or do anything.

"Sorry we're late, sir," Simmons said sleepily, breaking through his thoughts. "Fitz was taking forever to find a shirt." Inwardly, Coulson cringe. But he refused to jump to conclusions and consider her words as something that was reportable.

"It's all right," he said with his usual calm. "I know this mission briefing came unexpectedly."

"Uh, Fitz…," said Skye. And only then did Coulson notice the same surprise and curiosity in the expressions of the rest of the team, though May did hide hers better than Ward and Skye. "You missed a few buttons there," she finished teasingly.

The Scot looked down at himself then cursed, "oh, bloody hell!" In his sleepy state, he tried and failed to undo the buttons to correct them. Beside him, Simmons gave a frustrated sigh.

"Here. Let me." She didn't even wait for a reply before she pushed his hands away and expertly unbuttoned his shirt. This time, even May's façade broke as she raised an eyebrow in their direction. Again, Coulson inwardly cringed as the team watched Simmons stand rather closely to her partner to re-button his shirt. Correctly this time.

"Thanks, Jem," Fitz whispered gratefully, giving her a sleepy smile.

But no. Coulson was not going to construe what he'd just witnessed as something reportable.

"Hey, Simmons! Are you even wearing something under there?" Coulson really, really needed to talk to Skye's S.O. (aka Ward), and let him know that he needed to teach his rookie on when to shut the hell up!

"Of course I am!" Simmons exclaimed loudly, her cheeks turning red. Then her expression turned indignant when Fitz lifted up the bottom of her pajama top from the back to take a peek. She quickly pushed her shirt down and slapped his hand away. "Fitz!"

"Hey, those are mine!" The grogginess in his voice overshadowed the anger he was probably trying to convey. "I've been looking for those boxers for weeks! I even asked you about them, and you said you didn't know where they were!"

Well, at least that meant they weren't in bed together prior to joining the team in the Ops Center. Coulson sighed, silently, in relief.

"Oh, come on, Fitz! They're comfortable to sleep in. And you've got loads of boxers." The scowl on his face didn't disappear, so she tried a different tactic. Smiling up at him, she meekly asked, "Can't I keep these?" But Fitz did not yield.

"No. I'll give you another pair. Take them off right now!" Relief disappearing. Coulson bit the inside of his bottom lip to keep himself from saying anything. And to keep himself from making any facial expressions.

"NO!" Simmons scowled back at him. "I've nothing underneath!" Relief gone. He bit his inner lip harder.

"Fine! But I'm following you to your bunk later, and making sure I get those back!" Hmm…he'd almost forgotten what blood tasted like….

"Uh, guys?" Skye's voice was so full of amusement. "Are you sharing a matching pajama set?"

"What of it?" Fitz countered after a shrug of his shoulders.

"It's just…well…." Her teasing tone disappeared with his nonchalant attitude, and Coulson held back a smirk at Skye's discomfort. "You wore that shirt yesterday. And Simmons is wearing your pajama top…." She left the comment open-ended as if she was hoping Fitz would fill in the blanks. Much to Coulson's chagrin, he did.

"It was the first shirt I found when we were summoned to this briefing," he answered indifferently.

"And he always gives me the pajama tops," Simmons continued.

"Why?" Coulson really wished Skye would stop asking questions.

"Because he sleeps shirtless." Though her tone was matter-of-fact, her words made the stoic Agent Ward choke on his own spit. Coulson started to worry that he was about to learn something reportable.

"And how the heck do you know that?" Skye asked incredulously.

"Enough!" Coulson said forcefully before Simmons could answer and put him in a position he'd rather avoid being in. "Skye, no more questions," he ordered, looking pointedly at the hacker's eyes until she nodded at him. "From this moment onward, I'm enforcing a 'don't-ask-don't-tell' policy."

He watched as looks of confusion spread across his team. So he elaborated.

"No, not that 'don't-ask-don't-tell' policy. The other one—where no one is allowed to ask what you do off of the clock and inside your private quarters. And no one is obliged to tell what they do on their own time. Do I make myself clear?"

Coulson looked each member of his team in the eye until he received a "yes, sir." He looked to Simmons last.

"Yes, sir," she said, just like the rest of them. Then added, "But I don't understand why you needed to enforce that policy in the first place." She gave him a look of doe-like innocence, waiting for him to answer.

And Coulson just stared. He could not tell if she was being serious or not. Of all his team members, she was the worst at lying. So the innocence she was portraying had to be genuine.

Or she's the best damn liar S.H.I.E.L.D. has never suspected.

"It's just so," was his reply. It was a weak reply, but he hoped that saying it forcefully would make her drop the subject. Luckily for him, it worked.

Coulson was immensely relieved that one ordeal was solved. Now onto the matters of the mission briefing. But first,

"Before we begin, let's all take fifteen minutes to properly wake up and get dressed. And, please, can someone make some coffee? And make it strong."

"Fantastic!" Fitz suddenly exclaimed. "I could finally get my boxers back. Come on, Simmons!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the stairs to get to their bunks. Despite her protests about not needing to be dragged, the rest of the team noticed that she didn't let go of his hand.

Coulson sighed in defeat once they disappeared down the stairs. He decided that at one point during the briefing, he'd have to talk to the team about subtlety.

"So…" Skye started, breaking the silence. "Do you think they're secretly together, but forgot to hide it since they were still half-asleep? Or that they're just really, incredibly comfortable with each other?" She looked excitedly from Coulson to Ward to May and back again, hoping for their opinions. Coulson just gave his usual, enigmatic smile.

"Like I said, 'don't-ask-don't-tell.'"

"Fine, AC," she conceded with a roll of her eyes. "I'll make the coffee. Even though T-1000 here looks all tough, his coffee is pretty weak." She laughed as she jumped out of her S.O.'s reach.

Then Coulson remembered something. Or, rather, someone.

"Hold on a second, Skye." He stopped her just as she was about to descend the stairs. "This is off record. I need you to find an agent. He's in Seattle. Level 6. I need you to make sure he's on desk duty for the next several months." She smirked. He knew how much she loved hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D. unauthorized.

"No prob. What did he do?"

"He woke me up."

End