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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ: ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ
❝ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ sɪɴɢ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ... ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ, ʏᴀ ʙᴜᴢᴢ-ᴋɪʟʟ? ❞

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Sixteen years earlier. (Y/L/N) family home, Davenport, Iowa.

Your mother stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and smiling fondly as she watched you through the window. You were playing outside in the abundance of snow that had gathered next to the nearby lake, giggling excitedly as you built up tiny mountains of snow before throwing yourself into it and repeating the cycle over and over again.

She grabbed a washcloth and wiped the counter down before turning around to do the same on the island. She readjusted the fruit bowl and salt and pepper shakers that were out of place from that morning's breakfast, and tucked the stools underneath the island, returning to her spot at the window when she had finished. Peering through the glass, her heart sunk a little bit when she realised that you weren't in the spot you had been before.

Her eyes scanned the outside area frantically as she searched for any glimpse of your bright purple coat. When she couldn't find you, she panicked – immediately running out into the freezing cold, not even bothering to grab a jacket or proper shoes. She had her bedroom slippers on – not an ideal shoe to be wearing while running through snow – but she didn't care; she was in mama-bear mode.

"(Y/N)!" she called out desperately as she sprinted through the snow, head turning every which way in an attempt to find you, "(Y/N)!"

Your lack of response only fuelled her worry, and she gripped at her hair frustratedly as she continued searching. Her eyes landed on a small hole in the frozen top layer of the lake, and she gasped in horror as she dashed over.

She fell to her knees at the edge of the water and peered in; a strangled cry escaped her throat once she spotted the purple of your jacket just beneath the surface of the water. Without hesitation, she delved her arms in and grabbed a hold of you, using all of her might to yank you up and into her arms.

At this point, your father had become aware of what was going on, and he ran across to the two of you, dropping down next to your mother. "(Y/N), snowflake!"

Your mom held you close to her, brushing the hair out of your face as she continued breathing raggedly. A slight frown formed on her face as she touched your skin and took in your appearance. The water had been glacially cold – she felt it – but somehow, despite having been under for God knows how long, your body temperature seemed to be normal, and you showed no signs of frostbite or hypothermia. No blue lips, no weak pulse... nothing. The only thing unusual was that you were unconscious.

"(Y/N), wake up, snowflake. You have to wake up," your father said, hands fumbling as he pulled off his jacket and covered you with it.

"Erik," your mother whispered, catching your father's attention, "Feel her skin."

As your father cupped your face in his open palm, his muscles tensed and he swallowed hard. "My God," he mumbled.

You started to stir, catching both of your parents' attention and causing your mother to hold you closer. Slowly, you opened your eyes, and when you saw your mom and dad, you smiled warmly.

"Hi mama, papa," you said. Your voice was completely normal, not hoarse like it should have been. "I fell down a hole," you giggled.

"Yeah," your mother laughed deliriously, in disbelief over the situation, "Yeah, you did, sweetie."

"How do you feel, snowflake?" you dad questioned, narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied you, "Are you cold?"

You shook your head no. "I still feel warm. My jacket keeps me warm," you smiled, and your parents shared a look.

"Are you sure you don't feel sick? Or kind of funny?"

You shook your head again. "I feel normal, papa."

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Present day. S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, whereabouts unknown.

"Do you have an answer for me yet?" The Director questioned, pacing around the tarnished assassin.

"I already gave you an answer. Yesterday," came his reply, voice flat and slightly annoyed.

"And I told you that that wasn't doable. Choose something else."

The Asset lifted his head to look at The Director with a cocky raise of an eyebrow. "You asked me what my price is, and I told you; I want to speak with the girl."

"Not gonna happen," The Director shook his head, halting his pacing and coming to standstill right in front of the prisoner.

"That's my price," the assassin shrugged as best he could while in restraints, "It's not gonna change. Your move, Director."

With a final stony glare at the man in front of him, The Director turned to exit the cell. Once he was out and started down the corridor, he called for Agent Hill to follow him.

"Yes, sir?" she answered, jogging to catch up with him.

"Get me Brendon and (Y/N)."

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Purple Rain Bar, somewhere in Maryland.

About two hours after arriving at the bar, you were pushing the border of crossing over from 'drunk' to 'wasted', yet you were still going at it on the dance floor.

"This is so much fuuuunnnn," you gushed, swaying to the music, "I can't remember the last time I had so much fuuuunnnn!"

"I know!" (Y/B/F) agreed, shuffling closer to you, "It'd be even better if we had someone to dance with, though," she pouted, eyes scanning the room and settling on a handsome guy not too far away; her face lit up and her lips curved into a smile, "Found one! (Y/N), I'm gonna go talk to him. You don't mind, right?"

"No, I don't mind," you shook your head and although you were talking to her, you were facing in the opposite direction, gazing at the bar, "I found someone too."

You pushed your way through the array of bopping bodies and headed for the bar. Brendon looked up from fiddling with his watch and raised his eyebrows as you approached him.

"Brendon!" you called, reaching out to grab hold of both of your bodyguard's strong, calloused hands, "Dance with me!"

Brendon let out an amused scoff as he smirked marginally. "I don't dance."

"You danced with me in Germany."

"That was different. I don't dance like this," he nodded his head to the people grinding on the dance floor.

You groaned loudly, tilting back your head and rolling your eyes. "You don't sing, you don't dance... what do you do, ya buzz-kill?"

"Excuse me?" he raised his eyebrows again, this time out of shock of what you had called him, "What do I do? I protect you, for one."

"Yeah, and you're really good at that but you're so... stiff," you pushed against his rock-hard chest, "You need to let loose. Have fun."

"I'm having enough fun over here."

"Bullshit."

"This is your night; go back out there. Have a good time," he responded, trying to lightly shove you away; you wouldn't budge.

"Not unless you come with me."

"(Y/N)..." he sighed, closing his eyes.

"It's my birthday," you phrased his words from earlier, and he looked at you through his long eyelashes before heaving a heavy sigh and slipping off of the barstool.

"Lead the way, then," he said, holding out a hand in the direction of the dance floor.

You grinned broadly at him as you led him by the hand that was still held in yours. Once you were on the floor, you placed his hand gently on your hip, and he followed suit by placing his free hand on your other hip as you hooked your hands around his neck. It was a bit of a stretch, considering he was so much taller than you, but you didn't mind it.

The song playing was a relatively slow one, so you swayed along to the tune in a contented silence. Neither of you spent too much time looking at one another and no words were spoken, but it felt reassuring – amongst other things – to be so close to one another.

Without thinking, you laid your head against his chest, right over his heart. He didn't reject your motion or try to stop it. Instead, he brought one of his hands up to the small of your back, where he always placed it. You smiled; his gesture was sort of an unspoken reassurance from him to you. It was his way of telling you that he was there, and that he would keep you safe.

The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the song. (Y/B/F) – who was still dancing with that guy from earlier – caught sight of the situation and winked slyly at you; you gave a shy smile in response.

You reluctantly pulled away from your bodyguard's embrace once the song had ended, feeling a little disappointed that it was over so quickly. But your spirits were immediately lifted once the opening line of the next song played.

"I love this song," you gasped, perking up as you started singing along to 'Dance Dance' by Fall Out Boy. When the first chorus started, you began dancing around to the beat, getting lost in the song as Brendon looked on, a hint of a smile on his face.

You continued dancing on your own up until the second verse, during which you grabbed hold of Brendon's hand again.

"Come on," you encouraged, but he shook his head no, "Why not?"

He didn't answer, and you groaned as you dropped his hand and started to walk off, intending to find another partner who would jam out to your favourite band with you, but you only took one step before your hand was grabbed and you were yanked back into a hard chest. Then, you were twirled around and out, before being pulled back in, lifted into the air, dipped, and then brought back up.

You breathed heavily as you looked at Brendon, an incredulous smile on your face. You were standing incredibly close to one another, and a tingle travelled through your body.

"I hope you remember that," he said softly, "Because it's never happening again."

"Oh, I'll remember," you replied, voice soft as you continued your heavy (dirty) breathing, "Don't you worry."

You were pressed tightly against his chest, and the way he was leaning down made for virtually no distance between the two of you.

The urge to close that diminutive distance was overwhelming.

But you didn't get a chance to even attempt it, because Brendon pulled away and cleared his throat.

"It's getting late," he pointed out, "We should get going."

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Thank you for reading x