SUMMARY: Four of our favourite agents take the week off to stay at a lodge by the beach. Romance, fun and all around good times ensue. And trouble. There's a lot of trouble - but they can all safely agree that everything is just perfect.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here is my new story! It's going to be a short little thing, maybe only seven chapters long, maximum. It's just a fun, fluffy story to celebrate season two. Also, I've decided to pick a song for each chapter. Up We Go is the first one, purely because of the lyrics and the upbeat song.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything related to Marvel. Not the wonderful characters, not the storyline. Nothing. If I did own it, SHIELD's story lines would probably crumble and turn to hell within the first ten seconds. And the show would probably be discontinued because of horrible writing.

"Everyone here is ready to go,
It's been a hard year with nothing to show,
From down this road,
It's only on we go, on we go."

Up We Go - Lights

DAY ONE: Clink

"It's so sunny." Skye hears Simmons chirp in the backseat, and she can't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"You better hope so," Triplett adds from his spot in the drivers seat, leaning forward as he swerves into a perfect parking spot. Skye almost snorts at his precision. Of course Trip would be good at driving. He was good at everything. "There's nothing worse then going to the beach on a rainy day. You're a Brit, you're just used to the overcast skies."

"That's being stereotypical!" Simmons is quick to defend herself, her voice indignant.

"Relax, Simmons. We're here to have fun on the beach, not argue," Skye laughs as the gentle thrum of the engine turns off, and everyone swings their doors open. As soon as she jumps out, she can safely claim that Simmons is right. It's definitely a sunny day, and the sun beats down on her almost immediately. There's a barely felt breeze that wafts her hair back and forth, but it does nothing against the heat, and it's perfect.

She reaches over to grasp Simmons by the arm, and together they race to the end of the car park to peer over the railings.

"It's beautiful," Simmons murmurs, and Skye can't help but agree. The sea is a beautiful crystal blue, and the waves are just the right height for a day of swimming. The sand is golden, and Skye notes that it's probably perfect for building sandcastles.

Best of all, the beach isn't all too packed. There are several sunburnt families wandering the shore and quite a few sunbathers, but no one is obnoxious, and again, it's perfect.

"Guys! You have to come look at this," Skye shouts over her shoulder, only to burst out laughing as she turns just in time to see Fitz drop a bag of towels, and the material flies everywhere.

"Oh, Fitz!" Simmons chides warmly, rushing from her post to help gather everything back up. Skye knows Fitz has been struggling with day to day activities, ever since the.. pod incident. He drops things, he sometimes struggles to remember various things, and Skye has noticed that he doesn't wear ties anymore. But they've all learned to accept it and laugh. Besides, Skye doesn't think anything can break the cheerful atmosphere of the beach.

"We'll take a look in a moment, Skye," Triplett chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls a bag from the boot of the SUV that they had borrowed. "But first, let's unpack."

"Urgh, you're boring. I want to get down to the beach!" She groans playfully, leaning back against the rail. They've spent the majority of the day travelling, and she wants to get down for a swim before sunset.

"Skye.."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

...

The lodge is nice. Small, but pleasantly nice, with four small bedrooms for each of them - even though it seems spacious compared to their tiny bunks back at the Playground - a common room, a kitchen. The classic layout. The best aspect of the house is the large patio out the back that looks perfectly out onto the sunset, and the crystal clear pool, complete with a tiny minibar and a barbecue.

"This place is amazing," Fitz mutters as Simmons tugs a box from his grasp and sets it gently on the table.

Everyone nods in agreement, although Triplett smirks a moment after. "Where the hell did Coulson get the funds for this? He's been holding back on us."

"Fury owes Coulson a couple of favours, apparently," Skye sing-songs, smug to be the one who knows things for once, instead of FitzSimmons.

"Sounds about right," Triplett nods, dropping his own bags onto the floor.

They spend the next hour sorting out all their luggage and putting away everything. The house becomes very neat and clean, thanks to Triplett and Simmons, or the "neat freaks", as Skye has dubbed them affectionally.

When they eventually all flop at the kitchen breakfast bar, exhausted, it's Skye who perks up first. "To the beach!"

Simmons's eyes light up, and she seems about to leap up and join Skye immediately, but Triplett shakes his head in disapproval.

"It's getting dark, Skye. The water will be cold." A quick look out the french doors soon clears up that Triplett is right, but that doesn't deter Skye. They can go for a night swim, right? Besides, it wasn't that dark, the sun was just setting, casting an amazing swirl of pinks and oranges across the sky.

"Please, Trip," Skye wheedles, widening her eyes in a pleading fashion. She sees Triplett hesitate, but the two male agents seem to exchange a silent look, and he shakes his head firmly.

"No."

"Spoilsport. Simmons and I will plot our revenge." Skye threatens, much to FitzSimmon's amusement. She scans the room for a weapon, eventually lunging for a pillow.

It's safe to say that no one escaped from the pillow fight that night. Neither side could decide on who won, but secretly, Skye thought her and Simmons did a pretty impressive job.

...

"Triplett! Don't you dare put that in, Fitz will have a tantrum!" Simmons laughs, attempting to stifle her amusement but failing miserably as she leans over to snatch the chilli that was in Triplett's grasp. It's just her and Triplett in the kitchen, as Fitz and Skye claimed to have no experience what so ever in the kitchen. For Simmons, it was easy to cook. It's just like chemistry, after all. A certain amount of ingredients result in a certain product. She isn't sure about Trip, but he's good at practically everything, so she doesn't doubt him.

"That engineer needs to grow a stomach," Triplett smiles, shaking his head as he chops up herbs and grates cheese.

"He hasn't been able to stomach spicy food since.. well, since as long as I've known him," Simmons elaborates in a friendly fashion, peering into the pot of pasta and watching as it boils.

"We should prank him one night," Triplett suggests, an amused chuckle clearly evident in his voice, and Simmons looks up in him in surprise.

"I think Skye's rubbing off on you," Simmons tells him with a warm smile.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Triplett laughs easily. "But I'll bet you twenty bucks that they're out there plotting something right now."

Instinctively, they both turn to stare out the sliding doors at the silhouettes of Skye and Fitz, sitting cross-legged on the side of the pool. The faint glow from the fairy lights and solar lamps illuminate their shadows, and Simmons can't help but smile at the sight.

"That's sweet. What do you think they're talking about?" She questions curiously.

"I don't know," Triplett admits, having stopped cutting up the herbs to watch the two as well. "And I don't really know if I want to."

"I'm glad they're friends," Simmons says suddenly, turning to him for input. She's not quite sure what's compelled her to say it, but she knows that it's true. She's glad they're friends. Of course, there's nothing quite like the dynamic of her and Fitz, but it's nice to see that he has friends. People who look after him, and people who want to take care of him just as much as she does. It makes her smile.

"Me too, Simmons. Me too."

Simmons is glad that her and Triplett are friends as well. He's been a big help in everything, especially when Fitz had been unwell and she had been in despair.

She's about to tell him this, when there's the familiar wailing of an alarm - the fire alarm, to be exact.

"Triplett! The chicken!"

...

Triplett was wrong. It wasn't cold outside. It was pleasantly warm, with a cool breeze to ward off the intense heat of the day.

Skye made her way to sit next to Fitz, watching as he kicked his leg gently in the water. There was something strangely calming about the ripples in the water.

"Hey," she greets warmly, leaning over to nudge him. She has two cans of coke in her hands, and she offers one to Fitz. "You're quiet today. Not in the holiday spirit?"

Fitz accepts the can with a grateful nod and pops the lid open with a crackle. "Yeah, I guess."

"Is it Triplett?" Skye guesses. She knows that Fitz has been bitter to the other agent before, and she has a strong suspicion that it had something to do with Simmons. Casting a glance back, she sees the culprits themselves panicking over a pot, and then bursting into laughter.

"What?" His surprised tone makes her snap her attention back to him, but he's frowning at her in a puzzled expression. "No. Triplett's fine. He's good."

"Simmons, then?" She prompts, eager to get the truth out of him. She's determined to make everyone enjoy their one week of holiday. It's a special occasion, she is not going to have it spoiled by all the dramas that they've left back at the Playground.

His silence is all she needs, and they sit without speaking for a while, while Skye tries to think of the reason for his being upset. Then suddenly it hits her, and her face splits into a wide grin.

"You told her, didn't you?"

"What?" His expression is so alarmed that Skye wants to laugh out loud.

"You told Simmons. About your feelings."

"W-What? How did you.."

She really does laugh out loud then, purely from his bewildered expression. "It's obvious, Fitz. I think everyone knew, except for Simmons. What did she say?"

There's a pause before he mutters, "we were kind of at the bottom of the ocean. So I don't know."

"Oh." It hits her then, and she feels an overwhelming amount of pity for the engineer. "And you haven't talked about it?"

"No." His face is set, his jaw is tight, and he suddenly lashes out at the water with his foot. And that's when Skye realises - Fitz is upset.

"Fitz. Talk to her. Okay? Don't be scared. Don't you dare be scared, because you were willing to give your life for her. And don't be afraid, because no matter what - she threw herself out of a plane for us. For you. Even if she's not in love with you, she still loves you. You don't have to talk to her now. Or this week. But enjoy yourself, Fitz. When else do we have a beach as our backyard?"

Skye pretends to look away, but she catches Fitz smile out of the corner of her eyes.

"Thanks, Skye."

"Don't sweat it."

...

They're all gathered at the table outside, with the gentle glow of lamps to light up the now completely dark night sky. The chicken has luckily been salvaged, and it actually doesn't taste half bad, even if Fitz won't admit it. It's a nice evening, it's pleasantly warm by the pool, stars glint in the sky and Fitz is surrounded by friends. And it's the best feeling in the world.

Simmons is sitting right next to him, and he's trying desperately to avoid looking at her, because Skye's words keep floating through his head and he can't get rid of them no matter how hard he tries. Because even if Skye had said that he didn't have to tell her now, he still wants to. Because every passing moment in which he doesn't know of her answer gets him more agitated, more anxious, and every signal leaves him more confused.

"This is good," Skye says with a grin, reaching forward to grab another helping of pasta. "Where'd you guys learn to cook like this?"

"My dad," Triplett says smoothly, digging his fork into the pasta. "We used to cook dinner every night after a game of baseball."

"Aww," Skye pouts at Triplett. "Daddy-son bonding time. What about you, Simmons?"

Simmons says something, but Fitz doesn't really listen, instead tilting his head look at her out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't need to hear anyway, he already knows that she's a natural cook, that she applies chemistry to the kitchen.

He reaches for another helping absently, only to be stopped by Simmons's hands and a stern glare. "No, Fitz. You've had enough helpings for today."

"Ah, lay off him, Simmons. You'll have to get him a monkey first," Skye jokes.

"Yeah," Fitz adds helpfully. "If we had a monkey, we could feed him the scraps."

"What makes you so sure that it'll be a male?" Simmons accuses, but she's got a giant smile on her face. It's then that Fitz realises; it's okay. Because no matter what, she'll still be his best friend, and no matter what, she will always be Jemma Simmons.

"Besides, we want to finish this meal," Skye quips cheekily. "We want some more of this amazing cooking, right Fitz?"

He nods all too eagerly, and Simmons pulls a face. "You're being foolish if you think I'm cooking the whole week, Agent Skye. You'll be pulling your weight as well. You and Fitz."

"I agree," Triplett nods breezily. "We should have rotations."

"Me and Simmons are making dessert tomorrow," Skye announces grandly, leaning forward to sling her arm around Simmons's shoulder.

"Fitz in the kitchen? That's a disaster waiting to happen," Simmons laughs.

"I can do perfectly fine in the kitchen!" Fitz says defensively, and there's a round of laughter from around the table.

"Remember the time you accidentally left the oven on? The whole block was called out of the building," she reminds, eyes twinkling merrily.

"It wasn't that bad," Fitz retorts.

"They called the fire brigade."

Skye snorts in laughter, Simmons looks smug, and even Trip looks like he's about to double over in laughter. Fitz frowns pointedly, digging his fork into the food.

"You're jus' picking on me. The lot of you," he mutters.

"You've been quiet today, Fitz," Simmons says. It looks like Skye isn't the only one who noticed. He looks up to meet her gaze, and she gives him a brilliant smile. "It's good to have you back."

Skye promptly raises her can of coke into the air with a content smile. "To good times. And to the fire department."

And they all raise their drinks.

Clink.