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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ᴄʀᴀsʜ

❝ ɪғ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ... ❞

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         "NO. NO. FUCK NO. NO, NO, NO. OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY. NO."

Pure disgust, rage and a hint of disbelief was the blend of emotions conveyed by the scowl on Brendon's face and the scrunching of his fists. He was making it very clear how he was feeling, and The Director bowed his head slightly and held up both hands while entering the room in a silent request for Brendon to hear him out.

"I have my reasons."

"There is no fucking reason good enough to constitute this," Brendon hissed, glaring as he scattily gestured at the man accompanying Fury.

"Do not swear at me, Agent," Fury retorted, face stern and voice as cold as ever.

"I'm sorry, sir," your bodyguard cast his gaze to the tiled floor and shook his head languidly. Then, a moment later, "Actually, no. I'm not. With all due respect, sir, what the hell are you thinking?! He-"

"Like I said, Agent," Fury clenched his jaw, "I have my reasons. And I would gladly appreciate it if you shut the hell up for ten seconds and let me convey them."

Cold, hard silence was all he received in response.

"Fantastic," with a sarcastic smile, Fury glanced over at his guest, rousing everyone else to do so as well, "Given recent events, I am well aware that his presence may seem a bit strange, but I wouldn't have invited him to join us if I wasn't one thousand percent sure that he had nothing to do with it."

"He probably had everything to do with it," Brendon sneered under his breath; it was in a hushed tone, but it caught the ears of the new addition to the group nevertheless.

"I assure you that I had no involvement in any of it whatsoever," his eyes darted over to you, standing cross-armed behind your bodyguard, the target of his next ten words, "I would never do anything to endanger your life, (Y/N)."

You tore your gaze from his, looking down and tucking stray pieces of hair behind your ears. You had no desire to talk to him. At all. Fortunately, Brendon stepped in front of you, blocking you from his view so that you wouldn't have to.

"You don't get to talk to her," Brendon reprimanded, staring the other man down.

"For the last time," he huffed, readjusting the glasses set on his face, "I'm telling you that I had nothing to do with any of it."

"For the last time, I'm telling you that I think you're talking bullshit."

"For the last time, everyone shut up and let me finish sayin' what I gotta say!" Fury interjected, delivering a sharp glare at both males. "Thank you. Now, I know that some of you won't be on board with what I'm about to say," Fury looked around the room at everyone else in it – you, Spencer, agents Hill, Corvey, Romanoff and Coulson – before setting his gaze on Brendon and raising his brows, "especially you – but I'm counting on you all to trust my judgement."

Nervous glances were traded between the members your group as some shifted uncomfortably at the uncertainty that accompanied the presence of the guest.

"Doctor Ross had nothing to do with any of the events that transpired over the past year, or any of the others before that – I am certain of it. S.H.I.E.L.D has kept a close eye on him ever since he made a name for himself, considering him to be a healthy alliance to have, should the need arise. And arise it has," The Director spoke, hands clamped behind his back as he looked from the doctor next to him to the rest of you.

"Sir, how can we trust him?" Brendon all but sputtered, eyes wide with desperation as he silently begged The Director to rethink his choice of consultants. "His father-"

"Is a piece of shit," Fury interrupted, before looking at Aaron and cocking one brow, "Sorry."

"It's alright," the doctor held up one hand to show that it was indeed fine, "I concur."

"Doctor Ross – this Doctor Ross – is anything but. He had no knowledge of his father's involvement in Hydra," Fury spoke, "In fact, he hasn't spoken to his father in... how long?" He turned to Aaron.

"Nine years."

"Nine years," Fury turned back to the group with a nod of his head.

"Bullshit," Brendon scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at the doctor, "You were at the launch of his exhibit at the museum in Stuttgart."

"Yes, I was," Aaron said exasperatedly, shoulders slumping as his irritation grew, "But no one other than the people in this room and a German museum attendant are aware of that fact."

A collection of perplexed faces gazed at the doctor, and he sighed before beginning to elaborate.

"As mentioned, I haven't seen, nor have I spoken to, my father in almost a decade. He and I..." he drew in a sharp breath as he shut his eyes for a moment; his next words clearly pained him to say, "We never really got along. He's a remarkable intellectual, but he was an awful father. We'd fight a lot, him and I. Sometimes they were physical, but those weren't the worst ones. My family are specialists at using their words as weapons, knowing exactly what to say to ensure that they cut the deepest wounds. And there was a lot of that between the two of us. I said some things, and he said a lot more things, until eventually I couldn't handle it anymore. I left home when I was sixteen and haven't been back since."

"Touching," Brendon mocked with a false curve of his lips, "But if you don't mind, could you hurry your little pity-party up? In case you haven't noticed, we're fighting against the end of the world, here."

Aaron's expression changed from that of a man mourning the loss of a relationship with his father, to that of a man ready to commit murder. The men stared at one another, and you had to admit that Aaron took you aback. The red-hot intensity with which he glowered at Brendon surprised you; you weren't aware that he had that much ire in him.

Unfortunately for him, however, ice nearly always beats fire, and no form of ice was stronger than the one held in your bodyguard's gaze.

And so, the doctor resumed speaking.

"I heard about his exhibition a few months prior to its opening in Stuttgart, from an associate. I hadn't received an invite, of course, and at first, I was unbothered; my father and I were estranged – I hadn't expected to be on the guest list. But then, it started eating away at me. The guilt. The sadness of the entire situation. My father is an extremely stubborn man, and very hard to get through to, but as I sat and thought back to the last words I said to him before I left that day nine years ago, I knew that I had to try." Aaron paused for a moment, and Brendon took the opportunity to roll his eyes and make hand gestures that told the doctor to hurry up; he got another fiery look as a response, "I had tons of deliberation over the idea, but ultimately decided that I would be attending. So, I made a few calls to have my name put on the guest list – an alias, of course, and under the radar so as not to alert my father and his staff. Having said that, it brings me back to my earlier statement: no one other than the people in this room and a German museum attendant are aware of that fact that I was at that gala."

"You said that you went with the purpose of talking to your father," you piped up, prompting Aaron's head to snap in your direction; his eyes sparkled, and you knew that he was ecstatic over the fact that you had finally spoken to him, "I assume your previous sentence means that you didn't?"

He shook his head forlornly, looking down in shame. "No. I was going to; I was halfway up to his temporary office when I... I let my cowardice get the better of me, and turned left onto the balcony to catch a smoke, instead."

"Figures," Brendon scoffed in amusement, prompting Aaron to frown.

"Yeah, and I'm sure you have the perfect relationship with your father, don't you?" Aaron snapped.

"Never knew him, jackass."

Aaron's eyes widened a bit in shock, and he opened his mouth to reply but got cut off.

Brendon crossed his arms and turned to The Director, "I still don't trust him."

"I don't care," Fury sassed back, "You're not the person we need to trust him. (Y/N)," he leaned his body slightly to the side to look at you behind your bodyguard, "do you?"

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you looked from The Director, who was gazing at you expectantly, to Brendon, who was shaking his head and mentally yelling at you to say no, to Aaron, who was standing across from you, looking utterly despondent. Slowly, you nodded your head.

"Yeah. I do."

~

"Sometimes I get the suspicion that you want to die."

You tilted your head up to look at your bodyguard, hands continuing their work on lacing up your boots. "Whatever do you mean?" you asked, innocently.

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I know better than to try and play anything with you."

"I can't believe you agreed to have Ross here," he breathed as he took a seat next to you on the bench, shaking his head as he tried to comprehend your decision.

"I can't believe that you can't believe that I agreed to have Ross here," you frowned, standing up and placing your hands on your hips, "He's a valuable strength to have on our side, Bren. I thought you'd be smart enough to see that."

"I get that he's valuable, I do," he assured, holding his hands out, "But value means nothing if we can't trust him."

"But we can trust him."

"I-"

Brendon didn't get a chance to voice his comment, since you groaned loudly as you clamped your hands on each of his shoulders and leaned down so that you were eye-level with him.

"Brendon, relax. Fury personally gave clearance for Aaron to join us on this. That's gotta count for something, no?" you quizzed, arching your brows.

Brendon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I just don't want you to be surrounded by potential danger."

"I'm always surrounded by potential danger," you scoffed, laughing slightly. Your amusement did nothing to soothe your bodyguard's uneasiness, and his forehead creased. You brought your hands up higher so that they were settled just above his collarbones. "But that's why I have you, so..."

"Mm, I suppose that's true," he murmured, lowering his gaze; it was then that he noticed the weapon and its holster attached to your hip, and he tensed up. "Why are you suiting up?"

"Uh..." You looked down at the mission gear you had borrowed from one of the locker rooms and furrowed your brows. "I mean, I could change back into what I was wearing earlier, but I hardly think that sweatpants are appropriate attire to wear while taking down a Hydra base."

"You're not going."

"Yes, I am."

Brendon's lips parted as he prepared to start an argument, but you weren't having any of it, and swiftly shut him down.

"Nope. Don't even try, 'cause there's nothing that any of you can do to stop me from going. You lied to me for months; the least you can do is let me join the mission to stop the people that murdered my parents."

Your bodyguard wanted to sequence the dispute further, but upon taking in your new-found confident attitude, he recognised that it would be pointless to even try.

"Alright, then," he huffed, shrugging off your hold on him as he stood up, "Just don't-"

"Die," you nodded, waving a dismissive hand as you turned to grab a comm for your ear, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

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S.H.I.E.L.D Quinjet, en route to Hydra's base.

Since Spencer was the lone member of your team with inside knowledge on Hydra, it only made sense for him to assume the role of team leader for this particular mission.

Your team – namely you, Brendon, Spencer, Hill, Corvey, Natasha, Coulson and Aaron – were all on board the migrant jet, suited up and preparing for battle. A couple of additional jets with other agents that would be assisting were trailing closely behind you.

Coulson announced that the jet was approximately ten minutes out from the landing destination, and Spencer called for a final team briefing before everyone started to prepare for landing.

"Alright, let's just go over the plan one more time..." Spencer spoke, proceeding to recap the strategy and each person's role in it.

It had been outlined that Brendon, you, Spencer and Corvey would lead a response team of agents in attacking the base from the front and providing a distraction so that the rest of you – sans Coulson, who would stay on the jet just in case the need for a premature getaway arose – could slip inside the base. Once inside, the remainder of your team – Hill, Aaron and Natasha – would set out to find and retrieve the Tesseract. It was a simple plan, not too complicated, and everyone was confident in their – and everyone else's – abilities to carry it out successfully.

And then, after Spencer had finished speaking, and five minutes before landing, Aaron raised a hand in remonstration before turning the entire plan around one hundred and eighty degrees.

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but isn't (Y/N) the only current inhabitant of this planet that is able to come into contact with the Tesseract and not disintegrate?"

"Er... yeah, she is," Spencer answered with a confused tilt of his head, "Why?"

"Well, shouldn't she be part of the team that is retrieving it? Since she's the only one actually able to touch it. I mean," Aaron scoffed, extending his hands out at his new colleagues, "how do any of us think we're going to get it out of there? It doesn't exactly come with oven mitts."

You ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek and shrugged, looking at each of your team members in turn. "He has a point. Maybe I should be on the retrieval team."

"Okay, no," Brendon stepped up, shaking his head vigorously, "I'm not even entirely comfortable with you being here in the first place; there's no way I'm letting you out of my sight."

"Then come with me."

"He can't," Spencer shot down your suggestion, "He's leading the attack team."

You sighed and relaxed your shoulders before turning to your bodyguard. "Brendon, I'll be fine."

"(Y/N), I'm not leaving you alone with him," he hissed through gritted teeth, tossing subtle side-eye at Aaron, who pursed his lips in irritation.

"I'm not gonna be alone with him," you reminded, "Nat and Maria are gonna be there, too."

"Still."

Exhaling heavily, you reached out to lightly squeeze his shoulder. "I can handle it. Trust me."

"I do trust you," he murmured, nodding lightly, "It's him I don't trust."

"But I do."

"Two minutes to landing," Coulson called out from the pilot seat, prompting everyone other than you and Brendon to strap in for impact.

"Bren..." you whispered as you gazed up at him, eyes silently pleading for him to give in.

"I need to keep you safe."

"I know. I know you do. But I need to do this. I'm the only one who can."

Brendon knew you were right, and he knew that he had to give in. Frustratedly, he shut his eyes and gripped at his hair tightly, a soft groan escaping his throat.

He reached out for you, one hand gripping your left arm as the other snaked around the side of your neck to cup the back of your neck and tug you towards him. You were caught off guard, gasping, as the distance between the two of you got infinitely smaller.

"One hundred seconds," Coulson called out.

What Brendon did next stunned everyone on the jet into silence.

His movements weren't slow or amorous. In fact, they were a direct contrast – fast, dominant, and most notably, incredibly shrouded in craving. Every emotion felt during every interaction between the two of you over the past months came flooding through, and you were drowning in the sheer passion behind it all.

His lips felt nothing like you expected them to – they felt unbelievably better. He tasted almost exactly like you imagined he would, though; a mixture of mint, musk, and most deliciously – him.

As his lips moved over yours – claiming them, dominating them in a kiss spearheaded by sheer yearning and nothing else – you felt the rest of the world fade away, and all you could feel, all you could think of, all you could sense, was him.

And it was the purest form of ecstasy one could ever imagine.

You could feel the urgency behind his kiss, in the way he was crushing his mouth against yours, lips massaging your lips in a wonderfully harsh way.

Somewhere in the heat of the kiss, your hands had glided up to his head, and now your fingers intertwined in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more, more, more...

You weren't sure if the light-headedness you were feeling was caused by lack of oxygen, or by the feel of his mouth on yours, but you didn't get the opportunity to mull it over, because Brendon broke the kiss. He made sure to maintain as close of a distance to you as possible, gripping you tight against his solid chest and pressing his forehead to yours.

"If anything goes wrong, call me immediately, okay?" he said softly, lightly squeezing the back of your neck.

Your head was still reeling with the after-effects of the best kiss of your life, and your thoughts were running wholly errant; the only thing you could offer in response was a weak nod.

Brendon turned to look at Aaron, his entire demeanour shifting once again as he locked gazes with the doctor.

"If anything happens to her," your bodyguard started, the threat evident in his voice and in the way his face hardened, "If she comes back with so much as a scratch, I swear to God-"

"You'll kill me. Yes, you've previously made that quite clear," Aaron cleared his throat, looking down and adjusting his utility belt before lifting his head to look at Brendon again, "Don't fret, agent. She's safe with me."

"Thirty seconds," Coulson called; you could hear the tinge of awkwardness in his tone, and feel it radiating off of the other team members, but you didn't care.

Brendon twirled his head back to focus on you, and leaned down again.

"Be safe," he mumbled as his lips ghosted over yours, sending tingles down your spine.

"You too," you breathed, leaning up to press your lips to his for a millisecond before both of you pulled away.

"Agents," Coulson announced, "we've arrived."

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Thank you for reading x

Note: Don't forget to comment which chapters you want to see from Brendon's POV in the chapter titled
'A/N - Vote Here: Brendon's POV'