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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ: ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ

❝ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏɢᴜᴀʀᴅ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ. ❞

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   "I'M GOING."

"Over my dead body."

"Gladly," you said through gritted teeth as you cracked your knuckles, glaring evilly at your bodyguard.

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Is that supposed to make me feel threatened?"

"You can't stop me from going."

"Of course I can," he said cockily, and you could see his muscles tense through the thin material of his black v-neck, "And I will. Even if I have to throw you in a cell and handcuff you to the bed."

"Kinky," you smirked, knowing your comment would irritate him, and judging by the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, you could quite clearly see that you were correct. "But as fun as that sounds, I'm still gonna go."

"(Y/N), there's no way in this lifetime or the next that I'm letting you go."

"I don't need your permission," you sneered, "You're my bodyguard, not my owner."

"Exactly. I'm your bodyguard," he snarled, advancing on you, making you take an involuntary step back; you were never one to step down from confrontation – especially not with someone you loathed as much as the man in front of you – but Brendon was quite easily the most intimidating person – sorry, walking talking pillar of stone – that you'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. His eyes alone gave off a stare cold enough to freeze your soul. "And being your bodyguard means that I have to protect you. Which is what I'm trying to do."

"You can protect me there, can't you?" you questioned, beginning to grow bored from the pointless argument you were currently having. You were going, and there was nothing he could say or do to convince you otherwise. "Well, can't you?" you pressed when you didn't receive a response from the brooding agent in front of you. "Or are your abilities limited to one continent only?"

Brendon let out a low growl in response.

"I'll take that as a yes." You stepped around him and walked over to the table, snatching up the tablet. "Now, I need to find a dress."

"That won't be necessary, because you're not going."

"I thought we settled this," you rolled your eyes. "I. Am. Going. Whether you like it or not."

"(Y/N), if you go, the prospect of you getting attacked is almost guaranteed."

"Well, it's a good thing I'll have my bodyguard with me, then."

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Stuttgart, Germany.

Brendon stood in front of the gold-framed mirror, fixing the bowtie situated around his neck. The in-ear in his left ear let off a succession of five short beeps, indicating that he, along with several other agents, were now connected to S.H.I.E.L.D's communication network.

A moment later, The Director's voice spoke. "Agent, is all well?"

"So far," Brendon replied, breathing out, "But it's still early. Anything could happen."

"Here's hoping it doesn't. Good luck, Agent."

The conversation ended, and Brendon crossed the room to the drinks trolley standing next to the antique oak dining table. He wrapped his fingers around the neck of a bottle of Jack Daniels, gazing thoughtfully at the alcohol, internally debating whether or not he should have a glass. He never drank while on a mission. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a drink that was something other than water or crappy coffee. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he continued staring at the bottle. Ah, what the hell. If he was going to make it through tonight, he'd need the extra kick.

His slender fingers unscrewed the cap of the bottle, and he decanted some of the liquid into one of the glasses. He brought the glass up to his lips and was about to take a sip when he saw something that made him freeze in his tracks.

Setting the glass back down onto the tray, he furrowed his eyebrows and parted his lips slightly as he kept his eyes trained on you, as you took slow steps out of the bedroom and into the conjoined living room and dining room, your hands grasping onto the pleats of your dress as you lifted the material slightly, in order to avoid it from dragging along the ground.

The dress was a striking red one, made from silk and lace; it wasn't the most extravagant of ball gowns, but it was beautiful nonetheless, and complimented you perfectly. You'd done your hair in a style similar to how you usually wore it, and your make-up was fairly simple and natural, bar the red lipstick your wore that matched your dress. To you, you didn't look that special; you were certain that you'd be unnoticeable in the crowd of stunningly attractive women that would be attending the gala tonight.

Brendon still looked at you with narrowed eyes, and you shifted uneasily. "I know I don't look as good as-"

"You look beautiful."

You couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips. Brendon's expression hadn't changed, and although he'd just said the nicest thing he's said to you since you met, he still radiated coldness.

Then why the hell did you feel so damn warm?

~

You gazed in awe at the surroundings as the car rolled through the city of Stuttgart. It truly was a remarkably beautiful city; it was so rich in culture and history, and it demanded your attention as soon as you stepped off of the plane.

Of course, this wasn't the first time you'd been to Stuttgart. You'd been here with your parents, when you were about six or seven years old. You were much too young to appreciate everything the city had to offer back then, but now, every miniscule detail drew you in.

"It's not too late to turn back, you know." Your bodyguard's chilly voice brought you out of your appreciative gaze, and you rolled your eyes as you turned your head towards him.

"I'm sure you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

He shrugged. "Would definitely make my job a hell of a lot easier if you weren't setting yourself up to be attacked."

"You and I both know that I have to be here."

"No," he argued, shifting his body slightly towards you. "You and I both know that an agent could've retrieved what we're here for perfectly fine on their own, while you were safe at HQ; the only reason you're here is because you wanted to go to a ball."

"It's not a ball, it's a gala," you corrected. This time it was Brendon who rolled his eyes. "And in case you've forgotten, I'm the only one who knows how to open the safe. It's very necessary for me to be here."

True, it would've been immensely easy to just pass on the details of your 'mission' tonight onto one of S.H.I.E.L.D's agents and let them retrieve whatever it was that your father had hidden, but you needed answers, and you knew that whatever you would find tonight would offer you some. You wanted to be the first one to get your hands on it.

Brendon let out a light scoff, and you knew that he knew you were talking bullshit, but he never commented on it, and the rest of the ride to the gala was spent in silence.

The sleek black vehicle you were occupying came to a smooth halt outside Stuttgart Museum and Brendon exited the car. Walking over to your side, he opened the door and held out his hand to you. You were a bit taken aback at his sudden display of chivalry, but then remembered that he was only doing it for the sake of remaining as inconspicuous as possible, not because he wanted to.

Tentatively, you accepted the offer of his hand, placing your much smaller one in his before using your other hand to lift your dress as you climbed out of the car.

"Remind me what your plan is, again," he said lowly, offering you his arm.

You linked your arm with his. "Find whatever it is my father has hidden," you said simply as the two of you began up the stone steps of the museum. "Before Hydra does."

"Before Hydra does," Brendon chuckled lightly. "You are aware that they're probably on their way here as we speak, right?"

"I'm aware," you inhaled and exhaled deeply. "We'll just have to be incredibly quick."

You entered through the giant threshold of the lavish museum's double doors, and the impeccable sound of the featured orchestra flooded your ears. It was a beautiful gala. Although, considering you've never actually been to one before, you were sure the dullest of galas would've seemed wonderful to you.

Your eyes scanned the huge room, taking in everything from the guests, to the food, to the musicians, to the exhibits, to the architecture of the building, and your mouth fell open in awe.

"Come on," Brendon spoke, leading you towards the crowd.

"What are you doing?" you furrowed your eyebrows as he led you onto the dance floor. "Shouldn't we be looking for... well, whatever it is we are looking for?"

"Not yet. Everyone is still socialising, which means that the guards will be patrolling everywhere. We have a better chance of getting around unseen if we wait until the speeches, when the excitement dies down," Brendon explained. His eyes were subtly scanning the room for any potential threats, the way they always do when you're around. As much as you despised him, you had to admit that he was a damn good bodyguard, and you always felt safe when he was near.

You nodded. "And how long will that take?"

"Shouldn't be too long."

"So what do we do in the meantime?"

His right hand slowly made its way to the small of your back, pulling you towards him gently, while his left lifted your hand up to clasp his just above the height of your shoulder. A gasp escaped you when he pulled you closer, and a tingle spread over your body at the sudden close contact. "We dance."

Now, from the moment you'd first laid eyes on him, you had very strong opinions of Brendon. Strong, fearless, arrogant, cocky, brave, determined, stubborn, cold... the list goes on and on. You also knew that he was completely impossible to crack, and there were a lot of things he was able to do that you'd never have guessed. But dancing... that was something you'd never, ever had guessed he'd be able to do.

Oh, but he could.

He danced with such perfect form and elegance that you weren't sure if it was actually your stone pillar of a bodyguard you were moving in such perfect sync with.

He spun you around and away from him, before swiftly pulling your back into his hard chest. His arms crossed over yours on your chest, and you swayed side to side for a little bit. You were pressed so closely together that you could feel his breath on the side of your neck, and you shuddered.

"Where did you learn this?" you asked breathily, your voice wavering, much to your annoyance.

"In a violent assassin cult in the Alps. It was part of our control regiment."

"Seriously?" you scoffed, turning and lifting your head slightly so that you could look at his chiselled face.

"No. But admitting that my mother forced me into dancing lessons is so dull, isn't it?"

You couldn't stop the light giggle that escaped your lips, and you turned your face forward again so that Brendon couldn't see the smile on your face. But in the millisecond between your laugh and you turning away, you could've sworn that the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the sound of a man's heavily German-accented voice cut through the crowd, as the music ceased and the guests turned to face the podium. "Please welcome Doctor Jacob Ross."

The room erupted in applause, and Brendon leaned down to whisper in your ear. "That's our cue."

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