"skimmons + 46"

nanny/single parent au

aka: the life and times of daisy johnson, a tired single mother whose nanny is probably a little more attractive than she can necessarily handle but it's FINE it's COOL she's completely OKAY at dealing with her FEELINGS, and jemma simmons, the nanny that has a ridiculous crush on her boss which is one hundred percent inappropriate right? ft. ellie johnson, the adorable kid that's bringing them together

disclaimed

...

"You 'nd Jemma should kiss," Ellie tells Daisy one day without so much as looking up from her coloring.

Unsurprisingly, Daisy chokes on her coffee.

"Wha–," she sputters, grabbing a kitchen towel and wiping at the growing stain on her shirt. "What, baby?" There's, like, no way she heard that right, right?

"Well," Ellie sighs, switching crayons. "Charlie's mommies kiss 'nd he told me that kids can have two mommies or two daddies or even three parents."

Okay. Okay, that's easier to deal with. Her kid just doesn't grasp Jemma's role in her life. That's–that's manageable, yeah?

"Ellie, sweetie, you know Jemma isn't your mommy, right? She's someone who loves you and takes care of you, but–."

Ellie aims a perfect eye roll in her direction, and if Daisy weren't so stunned she'd be incredibly impressed. "I was getting there, Mama," she says with a long suffering air. Continuing, she says, "Sienna's daddy liked her nanny a lot, so he kisses her now and now her nanny is another mommy. So I think you 'nd Jemma should kiss."

Daisy manages to push past the shock and marvels at her kid's gossiping tendencies for a moment, thoroughly impressed. But this is still–this is something she needs to deal with.

How is she supposed to explain this, though? How does she tell her pre-schooler that yeah, she'd love to kiss her nanny, but Jemma doesn't feel the same way and trying anything like that could ruin a great thing for Ellie–because Jemma is a great thing for Ellie, really. She's so kind and gentle with her and Daisy can't imagine doing this without Jemma around to help–she came on with them when Ellie was a newborn and SHIELD had just launched and she's been a fixture in their lives ever since.

How on earth is she supposed to tell her daughter that she wants to, but she's scared?

"Besides," Ellie says breezily. "Jemma likes you, too."

She should probably just put the coffee down, really, if this is where her kid insists on steering the conversation. After doing just that, Daisy joins Ellie at the kitchen counter and asks as casually as she can manage, "How'd you know that, hm?"

Ellie kicks her legs idly, bouncing the backs of her heels off the legs of the stool. Switching crayons, she answers after a beat, "She makes googly eyes at you when you're not lookin'."

Daisy is saved from actually, you know, processing that information by Jemma bustling in. "Good morning!" she chirps, pausing on her way to the living room to ruffle Ellie's hair. "Good morning Daisy," she says softly, brushing her shoulder. There's a moment between them, Daisy thinks. Or maybe imagines it. Which is—

uh.

That's when Ellie chimes in.

"I guess she makes googly eyes at you when you are lookin' sometimes," she adds innocently enough.

"What?" Jemma asks. Daisy heavily considers the pros of just grabbing her daughter and establishing new lives for them in some far off locale, but then it dawns on Jemma what they were talking about and her cheeks turn this adorable shade of pink and Daisy thinks that maybe she can handle ten minutes of awful, awful embarrassment.

Ellie shimmies off the stool, batting away both Jemma and Daisy's worried hands and she instead tells Jemma, "I was tellin' Mommy that you two should kiss. But I guess you should talk 'nd stuff first." She pushes Jemma towards her recently vacated seat with as much force as a five year old can muster (which is…a surprising amount of force, Daisy knows) and gathers up her crayons and construction paper. "I'm gonna color in the living room," she informs them, walking away purposefully. She pauses to throw A Look over her shoulder and further insists, "Talk," before exiting.

It's the most ridiculous things, really, and Daisy can't help but start to laugh—is it because she's nervous and utterly embarrassed? Probably, but at least it's obvious that Jemma feels the same, as she joins in the same nervous giggles.

"Sorry my child is a master of persuasion," Daisy says quietly, mindful that the wall between the living room and the kitchen is a thin one at best. "She's got it in her head that we should be together."

Jemma nods quickly, adding, "Well you know what they say about kids."

"They do say the darnedest things."

They stand in silence for a few moments, both aggressively avoiding eye contact. Daisy's not sure how to recover from this? If there is even a way to recover from it? Jemma's probably going to want to quit her job.

"So—," Daisy starts, hoping that if she addresses this in some sideways kind of way, they can avoid ever talking about it again. Jemma says at the same time, "I don't mean—." They both stop. This could probably go on for years, if they let it. Instead of facing the next five or so years of this, Daisy says, "You go first."

"Ah—," Jemma stammers, blush creeping down her neck. "Well. I don't—I don't mean to overstep, in any way. And please, please tell me if I do." She pauses at the shuffling that comes from the living room. After a beat, she continues. "Ellie's not wrong. About me, that is."

Daisy's jaw is probably on the floor. She's not particularly registering much other than the fact that she's so incredibly glad she put her coffee down a while ago and, oh, utter elation.

She should maybe chill.

She realizes then that Jemma's still talking, in that adorable rambling way that she does when she gets too nervous. "—entirely inappropriate, I know, but I feel that keeping quiet is lying by omission, especially in light of Ellie's observations and—."

"So you have been making googly eyes at me?" Daisy asks, reveling in the absurdity of her words as well as the meaning they carry.

Jemma snorts, hiding her face in her hands. "If you insist on calling it that, then I suppose." She sucks in a deep breath and then adds, "I'm so sorry if this changes things."

Which sort of feels like a closed door. Or a closing one. So Daisy says brusquely, "Jemma, you're entirely overqualified for a nanny position. You should accept the job at The Academy."

"How—?" Jemma asks, face crumpling, so Daisy rushes to finish her thought.

"SHIELD owns it, sort of. In a tangential sort of way. Really, we're just the holding company, but it's symbiotic, you know?" Alright, so she's going completely off track. "Anyway. Ellie's in school now, so having a multiple doctorate holding nanny is—well. Unnecessary."

Jemma's eyes glint when she catches on. "Very unnecessary. Superfluous, even."

"Exactly! I think our professional relationship has reached its timely end." Daisy offers her hand and when Jemma goes in to shake it, Daisy reels her in gently until they're nose to nose. "And when one professional door closes, another more personal window opens," she breathes, reveling in the exasperated laugh that it draws from Jemma's lips.

"I doubt that's how the saying goes," Jemma whispers, her breath warm and sweet.

Daisy leans a little closer, can almost taste her. "I think it needs a little revamp then. Make it more era appropriate."

When they kiss, it's almost an afterthought. They're basking in the shared epiphany and in their own giddy joy, and so it catches Daisy off guard when suddenly their lips meet. Jemma relaxes into it first and Daisy takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, settling one hand on Jemma's hip and the other tangling in her hair. Jemma lets out a soft little gasp as Daisy licks into her mouth, sending a shiver up the other woman's spine.

And then from the other room, Ellie loudly asks, "Are you two kissing?"

Daisy and Jemma spring apart, giggling like teenagers caught making out in a library. "Just talking," Daisy calls back before turning her eyes back to Jemma. She grins cheekily, lips kiss swollen and Daisy feels a rush of pride at being the cause of such a reaction.

"So," Jemma breathes after a moment. "As my non-employer, would you like to go out with me?"

Daisy opens her mouth to answer, a yes already on her lips when—

"Mama says yes!" Ellie shouts, suddenly in the doorway. "Here," she says, sidling into the kitchen and offering her newest piece of art shyly. "I drew what you should wear."

Daisy catches a glance before Ellie's handed it off to Jemma for inspection and appropriate oohing and ahhing. She's not entirely sure where to find a red rectangle in time for their date, but she's sure she can work something out.