Chapter 3

Simmons nervously smoothed the pale pink, floral-patterned blanket on her bed. Logically, she knew that Skye wouldn't care how neat her room was, but all the same, she knew she wouldn't be comfortable entertaining Skye in a room that was less than perfect. Try as she might, though, she couldn't seem to smooth out every last wrinkle in the bed.

The doorbell chimed musically. Simmons popped up and ran for the door, partly because she was excited to see Skye, and partly because she didn't want one of her parents getting there first. In fact, she wanted to limit the interaction between Skye and her parents as much as possible.

She dashed through the kitchen, where her father, his thin, greying hair gelled back and his glasses resting on his sharp nose, sat reading the paper.

"Hold it, little miss!" he said. Simmons stopped short.

"Don't run to the door," he said. "You don't want whoever's there to see you sweaty and red-faced. Walk like a lady."

"Don't be like that, Andrew," said Simmons' mother, walking into the kitchen. Her light brown hair (the same color as Simmons') was bobbed, and she wore a professional-looking grey pantsuit. "She can run if she wants."

"Her hair is a mess," said Simmons' father, turning coolly back to his newspaper. "Fix it, will you?"

"You fix it, if you care so much!" Simmons' mother snapped, then regained her composure. "Simmons, dear, get the door. Your friend's waiting for you. Your father and I are just going to have a chat in the kitchen." Privately, Simmons wondered if her mother was dense enough to think that Simmons thought her parents "chatted." No, they only ever fought. Quick, snapping fights. Long, dragged-out fights where both her parents slashed with their teeth and claws and drew as much blood as possible. Silent, days-long, frigid fights where they refused to talk to each other for days and Simmons felt like they were all slowly freezing into ice cubes, fights that left parts of her frozen even after they ended, that made her feel like they'd never quite thaw. It didn't help that Simmons herself was responsible for most of them.

"Hello!" she said brightly, pasting a smile onto her face as she swung the door open. Skye stood, slouching, on the steps.

"That took a while," she said.

"I'm sorry," she hissed. "My parents are being absolutely-"

"Is that Fitz?" Simmons' mother's voice rang out from the kitchen. She heard the tapping of her mother's high heels across the kitchen floor.

"Maddening," she finished. "Come on. Get in the house, take off your shoes. I haven't quite told them about you yet, so hurry along. And stand up straight!"

"Wait, what do you mean you haven't-"

"Smile!" Simmons hissed. Straightening her own back, she turned to her mother.

"Mother," she said, "this is my new friend, Skye Bennet."

"You didn't tell me about her," Simmons' mother said accusingly.

"No, it appears I did not," Simmons said nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simmons," Skye said as she extended her hand, a charming smile on her face.

"It's Dr. Fogarty," said Simmons' mother. "My husband is Dr. Simmons." Her voice hardened at the word "husband", as if she were tensing up in preparation for a fight. She gave Skye's hand a quick, brusque shake.

"Don't be so rude to Simmons' friend," said Simmons' father. "Hello. I'm Andrew Simmons." He extended his hand, and Skye shook it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Did you know about Simmons' new friend?" Simmons' mother asked sharply.

"If I did, what would it matter?" he replied. "I'm her father."

"I'm her mother!" said Simmons' mother. "You need to keep me informed of these things." While they were distracted, Simmons pulled Skye into her room.

"Phew," she said. "Sorry about all that."

"Hey, this is downright relaxing compared to my house," she joked. She plopped on to Simmons' bed, wrinkling the newly-smoothed sheets.

"Right, then," said Simmons. "Let's begin with the bacteria lab." They studied, like they usually did, but it wasn't the same. The calm, relaxed atmosphere and steady, easy banter of the coffee shop was gone. Being at Simmons' house had ruined everything. It was setting her on edge, making her jumpy and nervous like a mouse who'd spotted the shadow of a cat. Skye's teasing wasn't helping, and to make matters worse, she was poking around her room.

"Skye! The lesson!" she snapped as Skye picked up a gold-framed picture from Simmons' desk. Simmons could feel her nerves fraying.

"In a minute," Skye said distractedly, looking at the picture. "Hey, are these your parents?"

"Put it down," Simmons said calmly, regaining her composure. It wouldn't do for her to get angry at Skye, because then one of her parents would get angry at her, and then the other would defend her, and they would fight (again) and it would be her fault (again). No, she could keep it inside (again).

"God, you're so anal," she said. "No wonder your mom's so pissed off all the time." That tore it.

"Shut up, Skye!" Simmons said, half-shrieking. "Put that down right now and...and shut up!" She immediately shut her mouth. No! she berated herself. That wasn't okay! Skye dropped the picture, momentarily shocked. Then the easy smile slipped back onto her face. Simmons was relieved, despite her anger. Good. She hadn't ruined this friendship, even with her momentary slip.

"I'm very sorry," she said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice, because Skye still had that smug smile on her face, like she was enjoying this, and Simmons could barely stand it.

"No," said Skye. "You're not. You're mad."

"I-" Simmons began, but Skye cut her off.

"You'd better not pretend not to be mad," said Skye. "Don't lie to me." Simmons opened and closed her mouth, too angry and too shocked to say anything.

"Go ahead," said Skye. "Yell at me."

"My mother will hear me," said Simmons.

"What, are you scared?"

"Shut up!" Simmons snapped. Skye nodded. Simmons took a deep breath. "And stop mucking about with my things!"

"All right," Skye said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you!" said Simmons. "Now, back to the lab."

"Just," Skye said. "One thing." She gestured to Simmons' immaculate room. "No one's this perfect. So don't pretend to be. Around me."

"You won't like me," Simmons blurted out. Skye stared intently at Simmons' face, her brown eyes meeting Simmons' own.

"I think I will," she said, and Simmons felt like she'd just taken off her backpack after a long day. Freed.

...

New Messages:

8:17

Jemma Simmons: Skye?

Skye: yeah?

Jemma Simmons: (My, that was quick!) My parents insist that I invite you over for dinner. You have no obligation to come if you don't wish to.

Skye: i;ll come

Jemma Simmons: Really? Are you sure? You don't need to ask your parents?

Skye: i can come

Jemma Simmons: I haven't even told you when

Skye: i can come. i'll skip whatever i need to skip.

Jemma Simmons: You really don't need to do that.

Skye: do you not want me 2 come?

8:18

Jemma Simmons: Not particularly.

8:19

Skye: y not

8:20

Skye: am i not good enuff 4 ur parents

Jemma Simmons: Absolutely not! It's just that they're very judgmental people. They don't particularly like any of my friends except for Fitz.

Skye: thats why they need 2 meet me. im so charming theyll realized the error of their ways.

Jemma Simmons: If you're sure...

Skye: I'm sure.