"No. No. Fuck no. No, no, no. Over my dead fucking body. No."

A vile feeling built up inside of me the second I caught sight of who Fury was leading into the room, and it was accompanied with a scowl and the clenching of my fists as I fought to hold back and not launch myself at the son of a bitch. He actually had the audacity to walk his sorry ass in here?

I turned to look at Fury.

And you had the audacity to let him walk his sorry ass in here? What the fuck?

"I have my reasons." The Director bowed his head slightly and held up both hands.

"There is no fucking reason good enough to constitute this," I hissed, scattily gesturing to the stupid piece of work accompanying Fury and paying extra attention to glare hatefully at him.

I actually can't believe this.

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

"I'm sorry, sir," I cast my gaze to the tiled floor and shook my head languidly.

No, fuck that. He messed with (Y/N).

"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 I offered in response. I had an abundance of comebacks to his words, don't get me wrong, but none of them were at all appropriate. So, I kept my mouth shut out of respect for my superior.

And out of marginal fear over losing my job.

"Fantastic," with a sarcastic smile, Fury glanced over at the cockroach he'd let scurry in, rousing everyone else to do so as well. Fucking hell, I wanted to squash him. "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," I sneered under my breath; it was in a hushed tone, but he heard me nevertheless. Good. That's great. He's not welcome here, and I would make sure he knew it.

"I assure you that I had no involvement in any of it whatsoever," his eyes darted over to her, standing cross-armed behind me, and his face lit up, "I would never do anything to endanger your life, (Y/N)."

She didn't respond and I could feel the discomfort radiating off of her, so I stepped in front of her, blocking her from his view so that she wouldn't have to look at him. I knew she didn't want to.

"You don't get to talk to her," I reprimanded, staring him down with heated intensity.

Watch yourself, motherfucker, before I turn you into a fucking all you can eat human sushi-buffet.

"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 of us. "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 – (Y/N), Spencer, Hill, Corvey, Romanoff and Coulson – before setting his gaze on me and raising his brows, "especially you – but I'm counting on you all to trust my judgement."

Damn straight I wasn't on board with this. This was some bullshit! This bastard was the unfortunate offspring of the douchebag that's hell-bent on annihilating (Y/N)'s life, and what, we're supposed to just welcome him with open arms? Not a fucking chance. Never. I would never trust him.

"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 around our little group.

Seriously? What the fuck? Why is this happening? I can't believe this, I really can't. So Fury's recruiting the children of terrorists now? Absolutely fucking lovely. Yay for diversity.

I glanced around the room at my silent co-workers and shook my head in disbelief at their non-existent refute. Was I the only one with a solid, logically working mind here?

"Sir, how can we trust him?" I all but sputtered, widening my eyes in desperation as I silently begged The Director to rethink his choice of consultants. "His father-"

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

"It's alright," the demon-spawn 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?"

"Nine years."

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

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

"Yes, I was," he said exasperatedly, shoulders slumping – a visual indication of his growing irritation. Careful, dick, or I'll dropkick your ass. "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 him – me included – 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. If only I cared. "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."

Oh, boo-fricking-hoo. You're not the only one with a tragic backstory. And yours is certainly the least tragic out of everyone in this room.

"Touching," I mocked with a false curve of my 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."

His 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.

Or at least, that's what I think it was supposed to look like. I struggled to swallow my laughter as I took him in. That's what he called a glare? Please. He looked like a constipated penguin.

On second thought, maybe that wasn't an accurate comparison. Penguins are cute. He is not.

I returned his glare – showing him how it should be done – and we engaged in a silent battle. Surprisingly, he didn't back down as easily as I thought he would; I'd give him minimal props for that. But his stare wasn't anywhere close to menacing enough to scare me off. In fact, there were very few things that could scare me off. I'd stared death right in the face multiple times. I'd faced some of the worst heartbreak imaginable. It would take a lot more than the "glare" of a nerdy pipsqueak to throw me off.

The longer we stayed like that, the more his demeanour faltered. I noticed his eyes twitch lightly. I hardened my stare.

Any second now.

He bit on the inside of his cheek. My stare hardened even more.

C'mon.

He broke eye contact and flickered his gaze to the floor momentarily before looking up again.

There it is.

He turned to look at the others and 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." He paused for a moment, and I took the opportunity to roll my eyes and make hand gestures that told him to hurry up; I got another fiery look as a response, but I shut it down with an icy one of my own, "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," she piped up, prompting his head to snap in her direction; his eyes sparkled, and it was obvious that he was ecstatic over the fact that she had finally spoken to him, "I assume your previous sentence means that you didn't?"

(Y/N), sweetheart... WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

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."

Fucking coward.

"Figures," I scoffed in amusement, prompting him to frown.

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

"Never knew him, jackass."

His eyes widened a bit in shock – he clearly hadn't been expecting that – and he opened his mouth to reply but I cut him off.

I don't need to hear anything more from him. Especially on that subject.

I crossed my 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 her, "do you?"

She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth as she deliberated – fuck, she looked so good when she did that – and glanced back at Fury, who was gazing at her expectantly. Then she turned to me, and I instantly shook my head, mentally yelling at her to say no and send the son of a bitch packing. I thought I'd convinced her, too, but then she looked at his goddamned face and her sympathy reflex kicked in. That's the only logical reason I can think of as to why she said what she said next.

"Yeah. I do."

~

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

She tilted her head to look up at me as I entered the locker room, her hands continuing their work on lacing up her shoes. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, innocently.

You know exactly what I mean, you beautiful fucking frustration.

"Don't play dumb with me."

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

Oof.

"I can't believe you agreed to have Ross here," I breathed as I took a seat next to her on the bench, shaking my head as I tried to understand her actions.

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

Bren. She called me Bren. My entire life, I've hated being called that. The one and only person I'd allowed to call me that was Spencer, and that was by default; he'd always called me that just to piss me off, but over time... well, it stuck, and it became an integral part of our friendship, in a way.

Still, that name was reserved for Spencer only. Hell, I didn't even let them call me that. But spilling from her lips, it sounded so wonderfully angelic that all of my hatred towards it dissipated instantly.

I decided right then that she was allowed to call me that, too; I liked it now. Yes. I liked it.

Only when she said it.

If anyone else called me that, I would bury them alive.

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

"But we can trust him."

"I-"

I didn't get a chance to voice my comment, since she groaned loudly as she clamped her hands on each of my shoulders and leaned down so that we were eye-level.

Oh, so you're taking control now? Ooookay.

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

She had a point there, I guess.

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

"I'm always surrounded by potential danger," she scoffed, laughing slightly. Her amusement did nothing to soothe my uneasiness; this wasn't a joke. I creased my forehead. She brought her hands up higher so that they were settled just above my collarbones. "But that's why I have you, so..."

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

"Uh..." she looked down at the mission gear she was donning and furrowed her 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."

My lips parted as I prepared to start an argument, but she wasn't having any of it, and swiftly shut me down.

Damn.

"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."

I attempted one last time to sequence the dispute further, but upon taking in her newfound confident attitude, I recognised that it would be pointless to even try.

"Alright, then," I huffed, reluctantly shrugging off her hold on me as I stood up, "Just don't-"

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

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

Under normal circumstances, I would've been captaining this mission but since Spencer was the lone member of the team with inside knowledge on Hydra, it only made sense for him to assume the role of team leader for this particular mission.

Said team – namely myself, (Y/N), Spencer, Hill, Corvey, Natasha, Coulson and, excuse me while I throw up a little, Ross – 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 us. It was inevitable that we would need backup at some point.

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 I – supported by (Y/N), 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 them – 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 the team – Hill, Ross (ugh) 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.

Yet, there was a knot in my stomach that wouldn't go away.

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

I wanted to fucking shoot him right then and there.

"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?"

Shut up. Shut your whore mouth.

"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," Ross scoffed, extending his hands out at the rest of us, "how do any of us think we're going to get it out of there? It doesn't exactly come with oven mitts."

I looked over at (Y/N) and saw her run her tongue along the inside of her cheek and shrug, looking at each of the team members in turn. "He has a point. Maybe I should be on the retrieval team."

I swear to god I'm going to commit a fucking murder.

"Okay, no," I stepped up, shaking my 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."

Anywhere.

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

She sighed and relaxed her shoulders before turning to me. "Brendon, I'll be fine."

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

Let's see how well you can purse those lips after I punch you in the fucking mouth.

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

I don't trust him.

"Still."

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

"I do trust you," I 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 her and I to strap in for impact.

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

Curse those gorgeous eyes.

"I need to keep you safe," I reminded.

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

I knew she was right, and I knew that no matter how strongly against it I was, I had to give in. Frustratedly, I shut my eyes and gripped at my hair tightly, a soft groan escaping my throat.

Without so much as a second thought, I reached out for her, one hand gripping her left arm as my other snaked around the side of her neck to cup the back of it and tug her towards me. She was noticeably caught off guard, gasping as the distance between the two of us got infinitely smaller.

Urie, stop. What the hell are you doing? You're really gonna kiss her? Here? Now?

For a moment, I hesitated. That annoying as fuck little voice at the back of my head had a point. This was not how I'd wanted this to go; not the 'perfect' scenario I'd envisioned for us. Maybe I should back away before it's too late.

Although, on the other hand, what if this opportunity never presents itself again?

You know what? Fuck it. If I was going to let her go in there with him, I needed to make sure that he knew exactly what he was dealing with, here. She was not for him to fantasize about, and I was about to make that wholly clear.

"One hundred seconds," Coulson called out.

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

The second my lips enveloped hers it was as if the world faded away. She consumed me completely.

And I loved it.

I didn't kiss her slow, or amorously; in fact, I did the exact opposite, pulling her closer until I couldn't anymore and kissing her with such ferocity that we almost toppled over. As our lips crushed together, I felt like I was walking on air. It was magic, the way her lips connected with mine. Her mouth was so warm, the caress of her lips softer than I could have imagined and I felt myself drowning in her essence.

When she kissed me back my brain lit on fire and the warmth spread throughout my entire body, sending shivers down my spine. The kiss obliterated every thought; the only thing that mattered in that moment was her. For the first time in forever, my mind was locked entirely in the present. The worries that had been plaguing me evaporated like a summer drizzle on a hot car.

I had no desire for the kiss to end.

A kiss like this was a beginning, a promise of much more to come.

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

Fuck, (Y/N), what have you done to me?

There was an exponential amount of urgency in my kiss, spearheaded by the fact that I wanted nothing more than to gather her up into my arms, carry her far away from all of this and never come back.

Somewhere in the heat of the kiss, her hands had glided up to my head, and now her slender fingers intertwined in my hair, pulling me closer, making me want more, more, more...

The ground started to feel like it was moving beneath us – literally – and I took that as a sign that we were close to running out of air. Drawing it out as long as I could, I broke the kiss. I made sure to maintain as close of a distance to her as possible, gripping her tight against my chest and pressing my forehead to hers.

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

I would die for her. I'd never been more serious about that than now. I'd give my life up for her if I had to, because now I knew that there was no fucking way I could live in a world where she didn't exist.

The only thing I received in response was a weak nod.

I turned to look at Ross, my entire demeanour shifting once again as I locked gazes with the bastard.

"If anything happens to her," I started, the threat evident in my voice and in the way I made sure to harden my face, "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," he cleared his throat, looking down and adjusting his utility belt before lifting his head to look at me again, "Don't fret, agent. She's safe with me."

I want to run you over with my car.

"Thirty seconds," Coulson called; I could hear the tinge of awkwardness in his tone, and feel it radiating off of the other team members, but I didn't care. And from the look on (Y/N)'s face, neither did she.

Ha.

I twirled my head back to focus on her, and leaned down again.

"Be safe," I mumbled as my lips ghosted over hers, making my flesh break out in goosebumps.

"You too," she breathed, leaning up to press her lips to mine for a millisecond.

Don't stop doing that. Please don't ever stop doing that.

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

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