I cracked open the eggshell and carefully dropped its contents into the prepared pan, keeping a watchful eye on the sandwich cooking in the neighbouring pan so that it wouldn't burn; this was one meal I couldn't screw up.

I'd never made Croque Monsieur – or Madame, if you will – before, but I hoped that the five YouTube tutorials I watched on how to prepare it properly would help and judging by what I've managed to do so far, it had.

Ridiculous, really – the lengths I went to just to be able to cook this single serving of food. But it was her birthday, and any and all ridiculousness was outshined by that fact.

Here's praying it pays off.

I sensed someone walk into the room and immediately knew it was her.

"Is that..." she started; I turned around right as she took a seat at the table, and placed the food in front of her. She gasped happily and hastily grabbed the knife and fork on either side of the placemat on the table. "It is! Croque Madame!"

"Your favourite," I commented, taking my place opposite her as I watched her tuck in eagerly, clearly enjoying it. I breathed out softly, relieved that she liked it.

She chewed and swallowed the bite she had in her mouth before tossing me an incredulous look. "How did you know that?"

As if I don't memorise everything you say or do. I resisted the urge to scoff at her question, instead giving a small shrug and taking a gulp of coffee. "I pay attention."

"Are you ever gonna give me anything more than just cryptic answers?" she sighed.

I narrowed my eyes at her, tapping my fingers against the pale porcelain of the mug before opening my mouth to speak. This was one answer I could give her, at least.

"Tuesday at training, while you were in the middle of one of your many proclamations about how much you hate me," I began; she averted her gaze in shame, a slight tinge forming on her cheeks, "You said that given the chance, you'd run me over with a car for nothing more than a chocolate cupcake and a Croque Madame. Call it a hunch."

"Right," she cleared her throat before taking another bite, carefully swallowing before addressing me again; I watched her intently through it all, "It's delicious. Thank you, Brendon. I really appreciate it."

You're welcome.

I'm glad it made her happy. I'd do things a lot more challenging than cooking a French breakfast food if it meant that she'd be happy. Would I ever admit that, though? Never.

"It's your birthday." I resigned myself to speaking those three words, hoping it would be enough as a response.

It was, because after I said it, she gave me a smile so radiant it would've put the sun, the moon and all the stars to shame, and I swear to god it drew me in so much that I almost returned it. Shit, I really need to get a grip on these fucking impulses.

Pull yourself together, Brendon. You can't go falling for her. Don't make yourself susceptible to those feelings again.

You know how that played out last time.

~

We were playing a round of Uno, she and I, sitting in her 'room'. She let out a triumphant cheer as she dramatically slammed her last card, a blue seven, on top of the blue four I had just set down.

"That's five in a row. I am the fucking queen of Uno," she stuck her tongue out slightly and wiggled her body in what I assumed was some sort of victory dance.

Adorable.

If only she knew that I was letting her win.

The clock on the wall struck seven, making me stand up and grab my jacket from the back of the chair, beckoning for her to do the same. She did, although apprehensively.

"What's going on?" she frowned.

"It's time to go," I replied, slipping on my jacket before pulling out my phone and shooting a text to Hill. She was helping me orchestrate this whole thing, and I wanted to triple check that everything was running smoothly so far. This was quite easily the stupidest thing I have ever attempted to do, but like I said before...

It's her birthday.

"Go where?"

Stop asking so many questions and let me do my thing, damn it.

"I told you," I said, silently reading Maria's reply that everything was good, "It's a surprise."

I looked up at her and cocked my head to indicate that I wanted her to follow me as I walked to the door.

"Right," she nodded, squinting her eyes as she followed me out, "Can I at least get a little bit of info? Ya know, just to alleviate the dread that's coursing through me."

Oh, so she trusts me enough to save her from fucking bullets and motherfucking Nazi terrorists but she gets concerned when I tell her I have a surprise for her? Granted, I'm not the most enthusiastically festive of people, but a little faith would be nice.

Fuck you, (Y/N). I'm not answering that question.

"Agent Hill is waiting for you in the garage; she has your change of clothes. I need to double-check something. Go down in the meantime and I'll meet you there," I said, using my key card to open the door that led down to the parking garage.

She frowned a little and I could practically see her mind racing. It was fast. Going at approximately one thousand miles per hour.

"Wait," she said, opening her palm on the glass door to hold it as she turned back to face me; I raised an eyebrow in expectation of the rest of her sentence, "Are we..." she hesitated for a moment before gathering the courage to finish her thought, "leaving HQ?"

No. I sold you off to the leader of a black-market organ-harvesting group. They'll be here to pick you up in ten minutes. Yes – we're leaving HQ.

I looked at her blankly for a moment before starting to walk off.

"Don't let anyone see you."

Leaving her to follow my instruction, I hurried up to the IT department. My fingers barely grazed the door handle before it was yanked open from the other side, exposing Agent Weekes, who glanced around the corridor nervously as he waved me forward.

"Did you do it?" I asked when I was inside.

He nodded in confirmation, stepping around me and walking over to his workstation, which was cluttered with various data sheets and random computer accessories. He tapped a few keys on his keyboard and a window popped up on the screen. He pointed out two timestamps.

"That one is the time the override will commence, which is in exactly three minutes" he tapped the tip of his finger on the time reading 19:10 before moving down to the next one, "And this is when it'll end. Ten past midnight."

The techie swivelled in his chair to toss me a teasing look. "Unless you're looking to compete for some kinda world record, I assume that five hours is enough time for you to, uh..." he looked me up and down and smirked, "do whatever it is you're gonna do."

"You're asking for me to strangle you, Weekes."

"Nah, dude. Save the kinky stuff for (Y/N)."

Delivering a slap to the back of his head, I grabbed the emergency homing device from his station and turned to walk away.

"'Thank you, Dallon! I really appreciate the fact that you're literally risking your job to help me get laid!'" he scoffed after me.

"You don't get a thank you, for that last comment," I stated, throwing a middle finger in the air, "Dick."

"Love you, too! Use protection!"

~

"She's almost done?" I addressed Maria as I strolled into the parking garage.

"Yeah, she should be out soon," she nodded, walking over to join me in standing by my chosen Rover.

"Good. We need to move quickly," I mumbled, whipping out my phone and shooting a text to (Y/B/F) to let her know that we were about to leave HQ. She would be meeting us at the bar.

It was a gigantic risk, reaching out to her. Especially after the whole Ian thing; there was no telling whether or not the rest of (Y/N)'s friend group was compromised as well. But I met with (Y/B/F). Threatened her a couple times. Made sure she knew that if anything happened to (Y/N) – on tonight, of all nights – I would do some not nice things.

Basically, everything I have done in preparation for tonight goes against S.H.I.E.L.D Agent protocol, and if anyone found out about it, I'd be undeniably, positively, unforgivingly screwed. The longer I stood and waited for her, the more I started to second-guess myself.

What are you doing, you fucking idiot? You're risking everything. This job is your life. It's all you have. And you're making the stupid ass decision of potentially throwing it all away? Why?

The door to the locker room opened and she stepped out.

Oh. That's why.

Fuck, she looked amazing.

I was staring. I knew I was. But I couldn't bring myself to look away. I knew she'd look good, but this... Holy shit.

She didn't know just how hot she looked – that was evident in the way she shyly averted her gaze and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her movements exposed the side of her neck and I swallowed harshly.

No, Brendon! No. You can't fall for her. You can't. Control yourself, you pathetic son of a bitch.

"So, uh..." she started, snapping me out of my trance. Thank god for that; my thoughts were starting to wander.

I moved to open the door of the Rover, gesturing for her to hop in. Shooting a quick smile at Hill, she gladly slipped into the car. I caught a whiff of her perfume as she did so, and my grip on the frame of the car tightened.

You can't fall for her.

I rushed over to the driver's side and got in. Glancing around the area, I checked to make sure that we were clear and after a nod to Maria, I sped the car up and out of HQ.

I snuck a look over at her; she was staring out of the window, clearly excited. I watched as she subconsciously drew in her bottom lip between her teeth, and I almost drove us off the road.

Yeah. It's too late. You've been hijacked, Urie.

There's no turning back now.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x