Britishness

1. Ward took a tentative sip of the cup of tea in front of him and spat it out immediately. "How can you drink this?" he spluttered.

Simmons chuckled. "You don't like it?"

"It's like really weak coffee," he said. "What's the point?"

"I don't know," she replied, frowning slightly. "It's just nice. A cup to tea can make anything better."

"God, you are so British," he laughed.

2. "Looks like rain," Fitz remarked, looking out of a window.

Simmons joined him. "Oh, it does. That's a shame."

"It wasn't in the forecast," he replied. "There was only supposed to be light cloud."

"Hmmm," she said. "I quite like the rain."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Reminds me of home."

"What is it with you Brits and discussing the weather?" Ward cut in.

"If you'd ever been to Britain," Fitz responded, "you'd understand."

Ward looked bemused. Simmons just laughed.

3. Ward watched Simmons out of the corner of his eye. She was wearing pyjamas and had curled up on the couch with a tablet. He could read the emotions on her face as she read. It was pleasant to sit quietly like this.

"She's had the baby," Simmons said suddenly.

"Who has?" he asked, confused.

"The Duchess of Cambridge," she replied as if this was obvious.

"And this is news?"

"Of course it is. She's a member of the royal family." She sighed exasperatedly.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course."

4. "Who is this guy?" Ward asked as he slouched on to the couch.

"Ricky Gervais," Fitz said through a mouthful of popcorn. "He's a comedian."

Ward watched for a few minutes but failed to see what was funny about it. Ricky Gervais just seemed to be very awkward and felt the need to point out all the jokes he made.

"I don't get this," Ward said. "Is this just the British sense of humour?"

Fitz gaped. "How can you not get Ricky Gervais? You're as bad as Simmons!"

She smiled at Ward from the opposite end of the couch, "I don't think he's funny either," she explained. "He's too 'sweaty uncle' for me."

5. "Fitz!" Simmons called. "I've got the food!"

"Just coming," he shouted back. A few moments later, he walked in to the room. "Did they have it?"

"Yes they did," she replied, smiling. She removed 2 boxes wrapped in newspaper from the bag she had been carrying. "2 portions of fish and chips, as requested."

Ward chuckled to himself as he watched them. Yet another thing to chalk up to 'Britishness'.

+1. If there was one British thing that Grant Ward liked and understood, it was Jemma Simmons. He loved everything about her, from the way she stood up on her toes to kiss him and how she snuggled up to him at night, to her incomprehensible science babble and overexcitement about Doctor Who. He wouldn't change a thing.

As they lay curled around each other in the dark, he lightly traced a finger down her back, following the gentle curve of her spine. His nose was buried in her hair, breathing in her sweet scent. She smelled of vanilla and tropical fruits and something uniquely Jemma. He sighed and she giggled as the air tickled her.

"Ticklish, huh?" he mumbled.

"Only when I'm relaxed," she replied. "It feels nice."

He kissed her softly, smiling against her lips, then went back to tracing lazy patterns across the expanse of her back. "Love you," he whispered.

"Love you too," she whispered back.