Once Bitten (BvP/Thoughtcrimes, NC-17)
Title: Once Bitten
Author: lavvyan
Word Count: ~8,200
Warnings: Short but unpleasant death of supporting character
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A terrorist using a unique snake poison. A scientist whose developing of a universal antivenom might make him the next target. And an NSA agent who probably wishes his job was all about cryptography.
Notes: This story is for smuffster. Because I owe her a) porn (though I kinda cheated on that part) and b) a Boa vs. Python/Thoughtcrimes crossover. Naturally, this is Brendan/Emmett. All the medical and scientific nonsense in this is just that - nonsense. Well. Mostly. I did do some research. For those unfamiliar with BvP: herpetology is the branch of zoology that deals with reptiles and amphibians. An ophiologist is a herpetologist specialising on snakes.
And, um. This is possibly a bit weird again? I seem to have lost the ability to write normal fic. If I ever had it. *scratches head*
A special thanks goes out to munchkinofdoom, who did an incredibly great job fixing my messy grammar and punctuation and basically everything. How are you so awesome? ;)
~~~
Once Bitten
I. Freya
"Patel, what's your status?" Brendan asked, voice low, although they weren't even close to the building yet.
"Second team's got the back entrance covered and secure. We're ready to breach the building." Patel's voice sounded tinny and far away in her ear. Freya adjusted her headset, giving Brendan a brief nod when he thought, you ready? He raised an eyebrow and sent her a picture of herself, lying bloody and still on the ground; a warning.
"Don't worry, I'll stay out of the way this time," she said, probably a little sharper than she had intended to, judging by Brendan's raised eyebrow. "Really, don't worry," she added, pointing toward her own 9 mm Beretta and making a small shooing motion. She was a big girl. She could take care of herself. And Brendan must have gotten the message, because his thoughts moved away from her and back to the mission, becoming the familiar litany of hit him hard, stay careful, hit him hard. Freya had to smile a little at that.
They were following a lead, hoping to catch one of the minions of a terrorist the media had dubbed 'Viper'. Viper had been killing seemingly random political targets for months, using a unique snake poison that still had the experts stumped. This was the first time they were actually getting close to him, or rather to his right hand man, Sherman Block. Their target was the one responsible for manufacturing the little poison darts Viper used to kill his victims. If they managed to get him, he was bound to give them a face, even a name. Freya would make sure of that.
They moved out, and she followed the men into the small, ugly building. Abandoned warehouse, like so often. She ignored Brendan's hand signs and concentrated on his thoughts instead. They were no-nonsense, fixed on the job at hand; familiar, reassuring. All right, go, go, go, hit him hard. She smiled.
Block never even saw them coming. One minute he was watching Jeopardy in front of a crappy TV set, primate, what's a primate, c'mon asshole, the next he was lying on the bare concrete floor, hands behind his neck and several weapons pointed at him.
And that was when things started to go wrong.
One of the small windows broke with a tinkle, and Block screamed before he started to convulse, a red-feathered poison dart sticking out of his neck. Freya stared in horror as the man began to throw up, choking and still trying to scream. With a rude curse, Brendan took off toward the back entrance, yelling, "I got him!" as he ran out of the room. Three of his team followed him.
Block was only convulsing slightly now. Freya knew enough about the poison to know that he didn't have much time left.
"Sherman!" She kneeled down beside him, ignoring the sharp stench of vomit, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sherman, look at me! Who did this to you?"
A giant red snake, smiling face of his mother, I don't want to die, help me!
"Sherman, I want to help you, but you have to tell me who did this to you!"
Emmett Emmett Emmett, God, it hurts, please, don't want to die. Block's legs were kicking weakly, his thoughts progressively jumbled. Outside, several shots were fired. Brendan.
"Emmett, is that the name? Sherman, is that the man who did this to you?" Freya asked frantically, feeling Block slipping away.
Emmett, antivenom, Dr. Emmett, Mom, please, Mom. The pleading thoughts stopped abruptly, and Block lay still, red-tinged vomit trickling out of his mouth. Freya wanted to scream. No lead to their terrorist, no face, just the name of someone who might or might not have an antidote for a poison that was acting so fast that the victim had that little white cardboard tag around their big toe before anyone had time to help them.
Patel's voice through the headset shook her out of her thoughts.
"We need an ambulance, fast. Dean's down."
Freya froze, and she had to fight down hysteric laughter as she realised how she was hoping that he had been shot. With a bullet, there was hope.
Not Brendan, she thought. Oh please, not Brendan.
~~~
Just a scratch.
Freya stared at the ashen face of her partner and friend, his body almost lost among the medical paraphernalia. He had been ahead of the others when Viper had shot him with a poison dart. No direct hit, just a scratch; the only reason he was still alive.
No one had even seen the terrorist, the pursuit called off when they had stumbled across Brendan's fallen body.
"We're administering an experimental antitoxin. There's a good chance he'll make it," the doctor had said. His thoughts had told another story. Neurotoxin, entry site swelling far too much, central nervous system severely affected, already inhibited respiration, comatose almost immediately, lucky he isn't dead yet, ten percent chance at best, don't tell her, it'll be a miracle if he responds to anything.
She had smiled, and nodded, and then reached for her magic phone, as Brendan still insisted on calling it. A few very thinly veiled threats to Harper about her leaving the NSA entirely, five minutes of research from Terri, and Freya had a plane to catch. Elkins, West Virginia.
"Don't worry, Brendan," she whispered, pressing a light kiss against his cold and clammy cheek. "I'm going to get help."
That Dr. Emmett better have his antivenom ready.
II. Emmett
"Hey, beauty. How are you doing today?" A scratchy, slithering sound was Emmett's only answer, then Betty appeared out of the gloom. She didn't have any facial expressions, of course, but he liked to imagine that she eyed the corn snake hungrily before gently taking it out of his hand and gulping it down. She never ceased to amaze him: scarlet queen boa, one of the last of her kind, and the 1.7 m corn snake, pumped full with venom as it was, looked tiny compared to her. And finally, finally, after years of research, she was giving him what he had been looking for almost all his life.
"Tasty, isn't it?" He smiled and reached out to pet her head, the scales rough and hard under his hand. She allowed the contact for a moment, then slid away. Every time she let him touch her, Emmett felt humbled; after all they'd been through, he wouldn't have blamed her for losing her trust in him. Maybe if they had been able to save at least one of her eggs; but as it was, he was probably the closest she'd ever had to offspring. He didn't think she'd have tolerated him like she did if she didn't see him as a child.
He left the humid twilight of her terrarium to get back into the lab. Government funding was at an all-time low, but now that he had the first version of his universal snake antivenom, that would change. He still had to test it, of course, but that was more of a formality than anything else. Betty's bloodwork, and the first cautious experiments under the microscope had looked incredibly promising, and if he were a people person, he'd have thrown a party. As it was, he'd contented himself with writing a told-you-so letter to every ophiologist who had ever laughed in his face.
The postage had eaten the rest of his funding, but it had been worth it.
If only Monica had still been around - another person he would have loved to tell, "See? I knew it!" She wasn't, though, and he hadn't bothered finding out her current address. The end of their little interlude hadn't been particularly pretty, something that hadn't really surprised him. Hot blondes with a penchant for dolphins were hardly likely to stay with someone whose life revolved around venomous snakes, and, in particular, a giant boa. She had never quite gotten how devoted he was to his work, demanding he spend more time with her. And while he had tried to give her what she needed, in the end, it hadn't been enough.
His studies had progressed a lot faster after she had left, though. So maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.
Emmett had just put another of Betty's blood samples under the microscope when there was a loud rap on the door, quickly followed by pounding and yelling. He sighed. Probably another tourist who had misread the signs for Longreen Snake Institute as Longrow Wellness Oasis and subsequently gotten lost. That happened almost once a week.
The petite, black-haired woman currently hammering on his front door didn't look especially lost, though.
"Dr. Emmett Emmett?" she asked, and Emmett winced.
"Yes," he answered shortly. Thanks to exceptionally cruel parents.
"I'm Freya McAllister, from the National Security Agency. I need your help."
"No." Nothing good had ever come from government agencies. Emmett had learned his lesson well after the last fiasco.
"Look, Dr. Emmett, I know you don't trust us," she ignored his involuntary snort, "but you are the only person who can save my partner. He's been poisoned with an unknown snake venom; he needs your antidote!"
How she knew that it was finished was beyond him, but then again, he had probably been under observation ever since he had stupidly agreed to help the FBI with their hunt for a giant python.
"My antivenom is experimental at best, not nearly ready to be administered to a human being." It would be irresponsible, as much as he wanted to help her. He knew how it felt to lose someone to a snakebite. "I'm sorry, Miss McAllister, but I really can't help you there." He turned away, ready to close the broad glass doors in her face.
"Please! You've got to help me! Think about… think about your sister!"
He froze, hand on the door handle. Slowly, he turned around, staring at this complete stranger who, by all rights, shouldn't have known anything about his sister.
"Excuse me?"
~~~
Freya
"Your sister." The pictures were bright and clear in his mind as she reminded him again. A little blonde girl, crying quietly as her body succumbed to the overdose of toxin. Their mother's pale, desperate face. Their father, lips moving in silent prayer as he carried his child to the car. "Your father tried to get her to the hospital, but the drive took too long. She died because no one in the village knew which antidote to use."
"How do you know that?" Emmett demanded, his face a mask of anger, but Freya kept talking, the words coming faster and faster.
"If there had been a universal antivenom, however experimental, you would have used it. You would have tried to save her life, no matter what."
Emmett's thoughts were a blur. How can she possibly- the FBI? No, they don't know this. Monica? But why-
"Monica has nothing to do with this. Please, doctor, we're running out of time!"
What, is she reading my mind?
"It's not important how I know this!" She had to get him to help, she thought desperately, wishing she had brought her Beretta with her. "My partner is dying, and I need your help!"
There was an almost audible click as his mind drew the last connections.
"You are reading my mind."
"Doctor, please-"
"Huh." For the first time, he looked at her with something like curiosity. "Is it just thoughts, or emotions, too?"
She stared at him, thrown by his reaction. He waited for a short moment, then gave a little shrug as he turned around and walked back into the building. It's probably classified anyway. Freya followed him.
"Doctor?"
"All I have so far is a sample. It can't be synthesised yet, but I'm making progress." Little blonde girl crying. You were right. I would have given anything.
They arrived in his lab, and she took the small vial he handed her almost reverently.
"Let me know if it works." He had a nice smile. A little crooked, but honest. I hope it does. I'm sure it does.
"Thank you." She didn't think those words had ever been more heartfelt.
Now she just had to hope that she wasn't too late.
~~~
"I've only been gone for a few hours!"
"I'm sorry, Miss McAllister. His body started shutting down almost immediately after you left." The doctor sounded apologetic. "There is nothing we can do for him."
Freya couldn't believe it. Wouldn't accept it. She hadn't gone all the way to Virginia to give up now, no matter how critical Brendan's state might be. She pushed the antivenom into the doctor's hands.
"Give it to him. He's not dead yet."
"Miss-" No use, too late-
"Give it to him!" Or I will make your life a living hell, her look promised, and the doctor visibly swallowed before he hurried off.
Freya sank down on a waiting chair, her face buried in her hands.
"Your father tried to get her to the hospital, but the drive took too long."
She knew how he must have felt.
III. Brendan
Beeping. Heart monitor, how he hated those things. Especially when all evidence indicated that he was the lucky person who had almost died this time. Cannula under his nose. No vent, but his throat was sore, so he had been on a respirator some time very recently. Right hand hurting a little as he twitched it, a sharp sting, most likely an IV.
Slight rustling of clothes to his left. Freya.
"What happened?" His voice was more of a croak than anything else, and he thought it again for good measure. Freya? What happened?
"Viper got you with a poison dart. That was yesterday. You've been here ever since."
Yesterday? Brendan concentrated, trying to retrace his steps. The memory was uncharacteristically fuzzy, but there: chasing out of the warehouse trying to find Viper, a man running away, stocky, dark skin, short sandy brown hair, casual clothes, shooting at him, the man turning around - exotic features, Polynesian? - and raising a thin black pipe, sting at his neck, then… nothing.
"You are lucky it was just a scratch," Freya said, her voice trembling a little. Must have been a close call.
"It was."
Brendan opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light before he turned his head to look at her. Dark circles under her eyes, skin pale, looking tired.
"You look like crap," he managed around the dryness of his throat, and she smiled tightly as she reached for a cup on his bedside table, putting the straw against his lips. Water. God, he was thirsty. Thank you.
"Well, at least I wasn't dying twelve hours ago."
"But I feel fine," Brendan protested. It was true, he did. Maybe the poison had gone bad?
"Before Block died, I picked up a name from him. Emmett, Dr. Emmett; he had created a universal antivenom. It was still experimental, but I managed to convince him that it was ready to be tested." Freya smiled. "We have to tell him it worked. He wasn't sure that it would."
"Antivenom?" Viper's one advantage is that no one can figure out that snake venom, which makes it impossible to develop a vaccine. If he knows there's a working antivenom… "…your doctor's as good as dead."
Freya's smile faded. "What?"
"And this hospital's a target, we have to get some of our men here, stat. Where's the antivenom?"
"There is nothing left. Dr. Emmett gave me his only sample, and we used it on you."
"Is it possible that they-"
"No. It can't be synthesized."
Brendan processed that for a moment.
"So the only one who could possibly have some of that stuff is Dr. Emmett."
Freya just looked at him, concern clear on her face, and Brendan made a decision.
"Call a doctor, we have to go."
"You're in no shape to-"
"I feel fine," he insisted, starting to sit up. "Get me the doctor, we're outta here."
~~~
The Snake Institute didn't quite live up to its name at that particular moment. What must have been a laboratory was smashed beyond recovery, and instead of snakes of all shapes and sizes, there were broken glass cases, empty. But what really made Freya's face fall was the blood on the wall. Brendan got that.
He didn't think it was snake blood, either.
"Call in another team," he said to Patel, who had accompanied them, along with a few other agents. "Looks like we have some deadly snakes on the loose, we'll need someone to recover them. And I want that blood analysed."
Patel nodded, and got out his phone. Brendan went over to Freya, who was staring at the bloodied wall, a forlorn expression on her face.
"I liked him," she said quietly when he came to stand beside her.
"I'm sorry."
It wasn't much, but it was all he had to offer. She nodded.
Patel's men had finished their search of the building, and he called for Brendan.
"They didn't find a body. God knows what Viper did with him. And there's a giant terrarium in the back of this building - empty. We might have something bigger on the loose, here."
"Great." Brendan sighed. "Get some of your men: looks like we're going snake hunting."
~~~
Emmett
Emmett was having a really bad day. He had been working on extracting another sample of the antivenom when he'd been attacked, most likely by someone who was pissed at him for giving that young woman what she had been asking for. Government agencies - he really should have known better. And now he was out here, hiding in the woods.
Blood was running into his eyes. Again. Well, head wounds tended to bleed a lot, didn't they? No cause for worry. At least he was alive.
Next to him, Betty raised her head. When Emmett had opened the door to her terrarium, half-blind and dazed from the blow to his head, he had been thinking more along the lines of setting her free to fend for herself instead of keeping her locked up and have her starve to death. Betty, however, had surprised him by defending him much like a mother would her child - even though snakes usually didn't have a mother's instinct. But Emmett's boa had proven more than once that she was a special kind of snake, and so one of his attackers was currently being digested.
He didn't know where the other was. Hence his hiding in the woods.
Where someone was approaching him right now.
Emmett tensed, and so did Betty.
"Wait, let him come closer," he whispered, although she couldn't possibly understand him. All she had picked up over time were her name, don't, and food.
A twig broke with a loud snap, and Betty shot forward. Through the leaves, Emmett could see a man in a black suit spin around, reaching for his gun.
"Don't!" he yelled at both of them, and the man gaped as Betty changed course at the last possible moment, brushing by him with a force that would have squashed the guy good and proper. She curled up a few feet away, watching them.
The man blinked, then turned to Emmett, slight accusation warring with shock on his face.
"What the hell is that?" he demanded loudly.
"Scarlet queen boa. One of the largest land snakes there are. What are you doing here?" Black suit and shiny shoes in the middle of a forest, not even knowing what he was looking for - government agency. Great.
"Looking for her, I guess." The man waved his gun in Betty's general direction. "And, well, the other snakes."
"What, are you stupid?" At the man's offended expression, Emmett elaborated. "Most of those snakes are deadly. Recovering them should be left to specialists. Not to… whatever you are."
The man rolled his eyes and finally put his gun away.
"Look, I think we started off on the wrong foot." He reached out his hand, leaving Emmett to look at it for a long moment before he mumbled, "okay," and withdrew it. "I'm Agent Brendan Dean, National Security Agency. I got a shot of a universal antivenom very recently, so I figured I was kind of immune to snake poison."
"Venom," Emmett corrected distractedly. "Snake toxin is usually harmless when ingested, and therefore not technically a poison."
"Ah. So you would be Dr. Emmett, I presume."
"Hm. You're the one who got bitten? Miss McAllister's partner?"
"Not bitten, shot at," Dean clarified. "There's a terrorist out there who kills with an unknown snake venom, and you're next on his list. Which is why you're going to New York."
What, New York?
"Excuse me?"
"Congratulations, Dr. Emmett." Dean smirked. "As of now, you're under protection of the NSA, namely me. Thanks for saving my life, by the way."
Oh, good, government protection. Emmett rolled his eyes. This day was getting better and better.
"Oh, you're welcome."
IV. Emmett
To his surprise, Emmett quickly learned that spending more or less the whole day with Brendan wasn't as bad as he had thought. On the contrary, after a rather rocky start, they were getting along just fine. While Brendan was a rather simple character, whistling cartoon show themes at least four times a day, he would actually listen to Emmett talk about snakes for hours - and remember the stuff. It was fairly flattering. For his part, Emmett didn't comment on the fact that Brendan was incredibly messy. He was used to cleaning up the lab and his snakes' terrariums on a daily basis - rotation principle, of course - and had just transferred that routine to the spacious apartment the NSA had so kindly rented for them.
They'd been living together for two weeks now, and had been on a first name basis since day three, when they had both been so bored they'd sat through a marathon of some stupid show about ridiculously good looking people fighting aliens in another galaxy. Emmett didn't even remember what it had been called, but Brendan could probably recite every single line. The guy seemed to have an eidetic memory, as opposed to being a mind reader like his partner, Freya.
As government agencies went, the NSA seemed to be one of the stranger ones.
Of course, it also helped that Brendan was what bad slang called eye-candy. Tall, slender almost to the point of being too thin, muscular in a wiry sort of way, dark hair and eyes that were sometimes green and sometimes a light brown - yes, Agent Brendan Dean was someone Emmett wouldn't mind spending some quality time with, preferably naked. A handsome man. And not exactly straight, either, according to the hints Freya kept dropping.
Freya. Brendan had almost thrown a fit when he'd realized that Emmett knew about the young woman's telepathic talents. A sharp comment from her about the scientist just accepting it and not freaking out in the slightest, which was more than could be said about certain other people, and Brendan had shut up. Just as well, because Emmett was curious, and Freya seemed somewhat flattered that his curiosity was of a rather sympathetic nature. She'd answer most of his questions before he'd actually say them aloud - probably testing him. He had surprised them both by finding it kind of cool rather than freaky.
It had earned him points with both her and Brendan.
"I'm ordering a pizza, you want something?" his bodyguard interrupted his thoughts.
"As long as it doesn't have these little fish, anything's fine by me," he answered.
Brendan ordered, and then let himself flop down on the couch next to Emmett.
"You seem awfully pensive today. Still worried about your snakes?"
"Kind of." And it was true, he was. Betty needed a very special diet to produce the right kind of antibody, and the rest of his snakes were rather spoiled as well.
"I thought that Dr. Fineman was taking care of them?"
"Yes, but he's a herpetologist specialising on amphibians. What does he know about snakes?"
Brendan nodded and patted his knee in what was probably supposed to be a friendly way. Emmett used all of his willpower to smile slightly, instead of jumping the other man and finding out if he still had his tonsils.
"Look," Brendan began, "we have a lead on Viper somewhere in Atlanta. It's just a few more days, and you can go home again."
Home. Back to Betty and research and the peaceful quiet of West Virginia's forests, away from New York with its smog and noise and too many people. Away from Brendan, who still hadn't taken his hand away, its warmth seeping through the fabric of Emmett's jeans.
Home.
"Hm."
~~~
Freya
"You're thinking of him again," she said teasingly, standing alone with Brendan in the brightly lit kitchen, after Emmett had excused himself and gone to bed half an hour earlier.
"Of course I'm thinking of him, I'm supposed to protect him." Not even looking at her, and she grinned.
"And that's why you're thinking of his mouth. To protect him."
Brendan shot her a glare, do you ever shut up?, and Freya laughed.
"At least now I know why my sister wasn't your type."
"Would you please shut up now?" he snapped, stalking out of the kitchen and into the living room. "It's not like that."
He let himself drop onto the couch, sulking, and she sat gingerly down beside him.
"It is like that." She was careful to keep her voice gentle. "And he likes you, so I don't get why you won't tell him."
"It's my job. He's my job, and I can't afford to get emotionally involved, you know that." You know that.
"Brendan." Freya let her hand rest tenderly against his cheek. "Isn't it a little late for that?"
Brendan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then he opened his mouth to give her an answer she already knew - but before he could say anything, his cellphone rang.
He flipped it open.
"What?"
A moment of silence while he listened, then his face changed subtly.
"They have? No, that's good." Another brief pause. "Are you sure? All right, I'll tell him. No, we'll come in tomorrow. Thanks."
He snapped the phone shut and turned to Freya.
"They've got him."
Viper.
~~~
"Have a safe trip."
Emmett handed his rather small bag to the taxi driver, and turned to her with a half smile.
"Thank you."
"We would have driven you to the airport ourselves, but we-"
"-have work to do, I know."
"Yeah."
There was a moment of awkward silence between them.
"Look, I'm sorry Brendan isn't here, but-"
"Freya. It's okay."
Brendan. Their shoulders touching as they watched a movie, warmth, dorky grin, I should have…
Freya couldn't help herself; she closed the distance between them for a hug. Emmett started a bit, then hugged her back just as tightly.
"It's not," she whispered. "It's really, really not. And Brendan's an idiot."
A warm huff of air against her temple as he laughed quietly.
"Come visit me. Seriously, I'll introduce you to Betty. You could finally lift the mystery and tell me if she likes me."
She snorted, enjoying his warmth just that little bit longer.
"It doesn't work with animals."
"Hm. Too bad."
Then they let go, stepped back, and Emmett gave her a little wave before he got into the cab.
"Bye, Freya."
She nodded, and waved as the cab started away from the sidewalk, and into the traffic.
"Goodbye."
V. Brendan
Terri greeted him with a big smile as he arrived at the field office.
"It was a takedown straight out of the handbook. He never even knew what hit him."
"Nice."
Head straight for the coffeemaker, maybe she'll leave you alone.
No such luck.
"Didn't you want to take that doctor to the airport?"
"There's been a slight change of plans. Freya's getting him a cab."
"Ah."
She was itching to ask, he could see it, so Brendan decided on a pre-emptive strike.
"Get me a tape of the strike in Atlanta, would you?"
"Sure."
Terri hurried away, and Brendan sighed before getting himself a coffee. He should have taken Emmett to the airport. He didn't even know why he hadn't, and Freya would give him hell for it later. Rightfully so.
He slouched down in front of his computer, sipping his coffee and waiting for the tape. No wonder his life was a mess, if he was such a damn coward. He could have given Emmett his private number. Hell, he could have asked the man for a date - if he'd said no, there would have been hundreds of miles between them. They never would have had to see each other again.
Damn it.
Terri came back, putting a disc into his outstretched hand.
"Here you go. Have fun."
"Thanks."
He started the program, and leaned back to watch. The picture was from a security camera in a hotel lobby; a bit grainy, but clear enough. Two agents in civilian clothes were stationed in front of the little gift shop. Two at the front desk were seemingly caught up in casual conversation with a clerk - another agent. One right at the door, dressed up as a porter, one waiting next to the elevator. A man entered the lobby, dark skinned and stocky, and yes, the takedown had really gone down like something straight out of the handbook. The man had barely reached the desk before they had him on the floor; secured, handcuffed; disarm him, pull him up, get him out of the building. Perfect.
Yet something nagged at Brendan, something not quite right, and when, right in front of the door, the camera got the first real shot of the man's face, Brendan froze.
Close. Very close. But not the one.
Setting his mug down hard on his desk, he was out of the chair, grabbing for his jacket as he turned to run toward the exit, his thoughts a litany of fuck, fuck, fuck!
Freya met him halfway, a thunderous expression on her face.
"You. You are the biggest idiot-"
"The man they arrested wasn't Viper," he interrupted her, and steered her right back to the elevator. No, too slow. Stairs.
"What?"
"You're right, I'm an idiot. It was all a setup, damn it!"
Run down the stairs, get to the fucking car…
"Brendan?"
Freya was stumbling next to him, trying to keep up.
"No need to protect someone if the bad guy's under arrest, right? 'Just let the good doctor go home again, he's safe now.' Viper's probably already waiting at the damn airport."
Get into the car, ignore partner's breathless questions, start the damn engine.
And drive.
~~~
Somewhere during the frantic drive to the airport, Brendan had found the time to picture Viper's face in his mind, so Freya would know what to look for. She had called the office for backup, but they'd still arrive minutes before anyone else would show up.
Damn it.
The airport was full of people, leaving, arriving, waiting, or just shopping. Too many, and he looked around for that familiar face, or alternatively, Emmett.
"Which gate's Emmett's flight?" he called.
"Seven," Freya answered, and he took off. Waving his credentials around to get them both through security, he ran toward the gate. The flight was already boarding, time running out, and he hoped like hell that they weren't too late.
Then, right at the terminal, he spotted him.
"Emmett!" No reaction, louder: "Emmett!"
The scientist raised his head, and looked around quizzically. Spotting Brendan, he started to turn - and jerked back as a dart hit his neck, two more embedding themselves in his chest and abdomen.
Time slowed. Through the blood rushing in his ears, Brendan could hear Freya's voice, shouting, "No!" as Emmett stared at them in confusion, stumbled, and went down. Around them, people were screaming, but it barely registered. All that mattered was that sneering face at the edge of the crowd, the hand raising the blow pipe.
Brendan pulled the trigger.
The first shot turned the sneer into a mask of shock and disbelief, the second wiped all expression from the terrorist's face as he went down. The third and fourth shot were to be certain, and from the fifth shot on, there was nothing but the blank gaze of death and pulling the trigger again and again until the clip was empty.
Eleven bullet holes. Most of them not even bleeding.
By then, most of the travellers had either thrown themselves to the floor or scattered away. Brendan turned toward where Emmett was lying, gun falling from his numb fingers. Freya had pulled out the darts, softly whispering as the scientist blinked up at the ceiling with a dazed look on his face.
Three darts. Three direct hits.
Brendan stumbled over to them, dropping to his knees beside the fallen man.
"Emmett."
VI. Emmett
Strange ceiling for an airport. Flashing lights, dancing colours, like a drug experiment gone wrong. Or maybe this was a drug experiment gone wrong, and he couldn't remember. Was he into drugs? He didn't think so, but then again, why would he lie on an airport floor and stare at the ceiling?
He blinked, trying to turn his head, to see if there were other people around him, people who could explain, but he couldn't feel his neck. In fact, he couldn't feel any part of his body, and he should probably be worried about that. Instead, he idly wondered what it would feel like to shed his skin. Maybe it would be similar. Maybe he was shedding his skin.
He would have laughed at the thought, but he felt too tired. There was a darkness lurking at the edge of his vision, trying to pull him in, but it looked boring, so he waved it away. Pretty colours were better.
A man's face swam into his view, blurred and contorted. He regarded it curiously - he knew that face. A name drifted into his consciousness, and with a lazy thought, he grabbed at it: Brendan. Was he Brendan? No. The blurry face above him was Brendan, funny, messed-up Brendan, who hadn't cared enough to say goodbye and yet was somehow there. Lips moving, but he, Emmett - that was him, Emmett, what a silly name - couldn't hear a thing.
How sad, he thought with a fleeting notion of regret. He kind of liked the other man's voice. He would have liked to listen.
Emmett closed his eyes, or maybe he passed out for a bit, but with the next blink, his limbs were prickling like crazy, and the sounds of the airport were back, agitated voices, people yelling, Brendan.
Brendan.
"Hang in there, come on, you'll be fine, don't die on me now-"
"Oh shit," Emmett whispered, an overwhelming feeling of nausea rising, pushing at the hands that were trying to keep him down. He opened his mouth to beg them to leave him be, but all that came out was a short groan, and then the vomiting started.
It went on forever, dry heaves wracking his body even after his stomach was empty and nothing was left to throw up, leaving him gagging and coughing and shaking, pathetically grateful for every bit of air he managed to inhale. It was violent, painful, and somewhere between the cramps he had developed a pounding headache, but there were strong, gentle hands holding him so he wouldn't soil himself, Freya's voice calling for an ambulance, Brendan's shaky reassurances close to his ear.
"It's going to be fine, you'll be all right, come on, you're doing fine, just a little bit longer…"
This time, when the darkness came, he let himself fall into it.
Warmth. Brendan.
VII. Brendan
Brendan drove alone in his car, trying to keep it at a reasonable speed. He had supervised the clean-up at the airport, talked with Harper on the phone to give him a preliminary report. Then he'd had to deal with airport security and their damn stupid questions of "isn't the NSA all about encryption and stuff?" before he could finally, finally leave. The ambulance with Emmett was long gone by then. Freya had volunteered to go back to the field office and be the one giving their report, so that Brendan could drive straight to the hospital and check up on Emmett.
To see if he was still alive.
Brendan pressed his lips together, his mind caught in a constant loop of Emmett's body hitting the floor. Yes, he had been attracted to the guy, but in no way had that prepared him for the way he had just snapped when… when…
Fuck.
One dart in the neck. Another in the chest, the third driven deep into his abdomen. Vital points. A confused blink as their eyes met, then a light sway, a stagger. Finally knees giving way, stumbling, falling, right knee hitting first, then the left, upper body sinking to the left, dropping heavily to the ground. Glazed eyes staring at the ceiling as he came to rest, limp and unmoving on the dirty floor. Unresponsive.
Fuck.
"Fuck!" he cursed, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel.
If he had done his job properly, Emmett wouldn't be dying right now.
One dart in the neck. Another in the chest, the third driven deep into his abdomen. Vital points…
Later, he couldn't have said how he had gotten to the hospital. The nurse at the front desk frowned at him when he stormed up to her.
"Dr. Emmett?"
Not the morgue. Please, not the morgue.
"Are you a relative?"
Brendan pulled out his credentials and shoved them under her nose.
"NSA. Where is he?"
"ICU. Room 5-13."
ICU. That meant alive, didn't it?
The ICU ward was bustling with activity, people running past him with alarmed shouts, the high-pitched blaring of an alarm making him feel numb with apprehension. Nurses and doctors, frantic activity directed toward one room, and he didn't want to read the plate, even as his eyes were drawn to it, didn't want to-
It was room 5-7. Relief flooded his system like a drug. 5-13 was at the end of a short corridor, and he pushed the door open without bothering to think too much about what he might find behind it.
He found Emmett, hooked up to a heart monitor, a cannula under his nose, and grinning at him, albeit weakly.
"Hi."
Staring, Brendan felt at a loss for words.
"Hi," he said dumbly.
"You could grab a chair," Emmett suggested, and Brendan did, still staring.
"Why the hell aren't you dead?" Brendan blurted finally, when the constant beeping became too much.
"Serotherapy." Emmett grinned again, at Brendan's blank stare adding, "Vaccination. I played my own guinea pig with Betty's antivenom, building up an immunity to snake toxin. Of course, I couldn't be sure it was working until I actually got bitten, but I wasn't ready for that kind of test."
"You… injected yourself with an unknown drug?"
"No, I injected myself with an antivenom I had developed myself. And, granted, it couldn't completely stave off a reaction to three poison darts, but it was enough to save my life. That's all that counts, isn't it?"
Yeah. Pretty much. Only Brendan was beginning to feel more than a little angry, after two hours of completely unnecessary worrying, not to mention the guilt and the strange feeling of loss, and here was Emmett, still grinning, and suddenly, he wanted to break the man's nose. And Emmett must have picked up on that, because his grin faded, to be replaced by a look of concern.
"Brendan? Are you all right?"
"Yeah." He pulled himself together. "Just, you know. A little tired after a long day's work."
It was barely noon, but neither of them commented on that.
"Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were all good to go home. This sure was one of the more interesting cases."
Ignoring Emmett's slightly hurt look, he stood up and turned to leave the room. In the doorway, he paused.
"Freya sends her regards," he said, still inexplicably pissed, and left.
"Brendan?" Emmett called after him.
He just kept walking.
He had a report to write.
VIII. Emmett
"Hey, beauty. Did you lose weight? I think you did." The corn snake tried to curl around his arm, but Betty was faster, cautiously taking it from his hand before swallowing it with one huge gulp. "I should have known better than to hand you over to Fineman. Really, what does he know about snakes?"
She nudged him gently with her large head, and he sighed.
"Sorry. You just ate the last one."
She nudged him again, and he petted her head.
"Guess I'll have to go outside, huh?"
He didn't really want to. Now that it was clear his antivenom was working, he had more government funding than he'd ever asked for. And a research team. And they were building a second, larger, lab right across the street.
So much for peaceful West Virginia. And he hated it with a passion, because all he had wanted to do for the last month was draw back and lick his wounds in private, but they just wouldn't let him.
He still wasn't sure what had happened. One moment Brendan was standing in the door, regarding him with a mix of relief and anxiety, and the next it was DefCon 3. Or Cold War. Whatever.
Emmett kept telling himself that if he had Brendan's number, he would call. Ask him what went wrong. Maybe even ask him for a date. He'd be the first to admit that while he did great with snakes, he was actually terrible with people, but maybe they could have made it work.
Right, if only he had the number. Because it wouldn't be oh so easy to ask Freya. At least she was still talking to him.
"You know, it's pathetic. I'd been with Monica for over a year, and I already miss him more."
Betty hissed quietly. Well, she hadn't liked Monica all that much, after those damn bio sensors had messed her up for almost two months after they had been taken out. She didn't like anyone all that much, an excuse Emmett had almost desperately grabbed for, using her feeding time as a welcome escape from all the hubbub. He had never been one for company, but this was getting ridiculous.
Petting Betty's head one final time, he opened the terrarium door and stepped outside.
And froze.
"Hello Emmett," Freya said, looking up at him and smiling as she pulled him into a hug.
"Freya." He returned the embrace a little awkwardly, taking a few seconds to get over his surprise and find his voice. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting you." She said it like it should have been obvious. Well, it probably was. "Maybe tying up some loose ends."
"Don't talk about tying up loose ends around a bunch of ophiologists," Emmett joked. All right, lame, but he hadn't expected her, and at least his team obediently sniggered. Freya threw them a look.
"Emmett... let's go outside for a while, okay?"
Emmett shrugged. It wasn't like he couldn't wait to talk about his private life in front of his assistants. And Freya looked as though talking about his private life was exactly what she was planning to do, so he followed her through the lab and out of the building.
A silver car was parking in front of the Institute. And leaning against the car, dressed in civvies, picking at his shirt, was Brendan.
Emmett stopped short.
"What is this?"
Brendan's head shot up.
"Emmett, hi. I, um. How are you?" he asked sheepishly, looking nervous.
Instead of an answer, Emmett crossed his arms in front of his chest, ignoring the way he could feel his heart pounding against his fist. The least Brendan owed him was an explanation, if not an apology.
Brendan's apparent nervousness faded into downright uncertainty.
"Look, uh. I know I'm not... I didn't behave like I should have. I had no right to blame you for surviving, but, can't we just... I know I blew it, but you're always... Freya keeps complaining that I can't get you out of my head." He looked a little sick.
"Hm."
"'Hm'? Is that... what did you say?" Babbling. It was irritatingly cute.
"Hm," Emmett repeated, suppressing a smile. He walked down the few steps in front of the building and came to stand before Brendan, who stared at him with a strange combination of wariness and hope.
"So what does that mean, 'hm'?"
Emmett's gaze dropped to Brendan's lips, sighing as the tip of a pink tongue nervously flicked over them, leaving them moist and glistening. He leaned forward, cautiously, just in case Brendan experienced another outbreak of irrationality, but if anything, Brendan's head tilted toward him.
The kiss was short, almost shy, more a promise than anything else. But to Emmett, it was the sweetest thing ever.
Brendan was smiling goofily when they pulled apart.
"So 'hm' is a good thing."
Behind them, Freya laughed.
IX. Freya
Freya smiled as Brendan started to snore softly. They had been on a stakeout all day, still were, but at least now another team had taken over, and they could sleep for a few hours.
It would have been nicer to go home, of course. Especially for Brendan, who had only convinced Emmett to return with them to New York on the promise of at least regular evenings together. Something her workaholic partner had to get used to.
She turned to look at him, stretched out uncomfortably in the back of the van. He looked even younger asleep, almost innocent with his mouth half open and drooling on his jacket. His eyes were moving rapidly beneath the closed lids, dreaming, and she couldn't resist, had to sneak a peek.
-eyes closed, his body warm, hot; cool air against his sweat-slick skin; feeling every single strand of the sheets' fabric underneath his back, coarse, scratchy, delicious contrast to the softness of Emmett's hands as they slid lower, skimmed across his hips. One continued the journey downwards, caressing the tender skin of his inner thighs, while the other closed around his-
Freya looked away, her cheeks burning with the force of her blush. That was… that was not what she had expected. Who would have thought that her chaotic but overall rather analytical partner could let go like that? She stared at the surveillance monitors for a while, trying to resist temptation, knowing that intruding was wrong, but Brendan's dream-memories lured her in again.
-and started to suck, tongue playing with his circumcision scar. Brendan couldn't stay silent, couldn't stay still; he had to gasp, hips bucking without conscious decision to find more of that suction, more of that heat, only Emmett drew back until only the tip of Brendan's dick was still in his mouth.
"Damn it, come back here," Brendan rasped, twitching at the sound of a plastic tube being snapped open. "Emmett-"
A large hand closed around his erect member, squeezing hard, and Brendan exhaled with a ragged sigh.
"Patience."
He flinched as a slick finger started to flicker around his hole, teasing him oh so lightly until he couldn't stand it anymore.
"Emmett, stop playing-" and the finger pushed in, sliding in up to the first digit, drawing back, pushing in further, and Brendan could feel it, how his muscles were clenching around the intruder, sucking him further inside. Higher and higher Emmett's finger went, screwing its way inside, brushing over, "oh, God," his prostate, accidentally maybe, but the pleasure made Brendan gasp, made him shiver, and-
Freya closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. Oh, wow. Of course, she'd known, in a way, that Brendan and Emmett didn't spend their time at home watching TV. At least, not all of it. But this was, this was…
This was hot.
Squirming on the edge of her seat looking for some friction hot, and that wasn't right; getting aroused by spying on Brendan's sex-life wasn't right at all, and Freya was better than that. Really, she was.
She opened her eyes, just the tiniest fraction.
-panting as Emmett kept slamming into him, hot, heavy, weight pressing him into the mattress, in and out, in and out, stretching him, filling him up, and Brendan's muscles were screaming with the strain, legs locked painfully around Emmett's back, but he ignored it, ignored everything except the feeling of being fucked, being owned, so close to coming, so close to letting go, so close-
Well. At least now she knew why Emmett kept grinning.
+++
There you go, smuffster! Hope you like! :)
Author: lavvyan
Word Count: ~8,200
Warnings: Short but unpleasant death of supporting character
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A terrorist using a unique snake poison. A scientist whose developing of a universal antivenom might make him the next target. And an NSA agent who probably wishes his job was all about cryptography.
Notes: This story is for smuffster. Because I owe her a) porn (though I kinda cheated on that part) and b) a Boa vs. Python/Thoughtcrimes crossover. Naturally, this is Brendan/Emmett. All the medical and scientific nonsense in this is just that - nonsense. Well. Mostly. I did do some research. For those unfamiliar with BvP: herpetology is the branch of zoology that deals with reptiles and amphibians. An ophiologist is a herpetologist specialising on snakes.
And, um. This is possibly a bit weird again? I seem to have lost the ability to write normal fic. If I ever had it. *scratches head*
A special thanks goes out to munchkinofdoom, who did an incredibly great job fixing my messy grammar and punctuation and basically everything. How are you so awesome? ;)
~~~
Once Bitten
I. Freya
"Patel, what's your status?" Brendan asked, voice low, although they weren't even close to the building yet.
"Second team's got the back entrance covered and secure. We're ready to breach the building." Patel's voice sounded tinny and far away in her ear. Freya adjusted her headset, giving Brendan a brief nod when he thought, you ready? He raised an eyebrow and sent her a picture of herself, lying bloody and still on the ground; a warning.
"Don't worry, I'll stay out of the way this time," she said, probably a little sharper than she had intended to, judging by Brendan's raised eyebrow. "Really, don't worry," she added, pointing toward her own 9 mm Beretta and making a small shooing motion. She was a big girl. She could take care of herself. And Brendan must have gotten the message, because his thoughts moved away from her and back to the mission, becoming the familiar litany of hit him hard, stay careful, hit him hard. Freya had to smile a little at that.
They were following a lead, hoping to catch one of the minions of a terrorist the media had dubbed 'Viper'. Viper had been killing seemingly random political targets for months, using a unique snake poison that still had the experts stumped. This was the first time they were actually getting close to him, or rather to his right hand man, Sherman Block. Their target was the one responsible for manufacturing the little poison darts Viper used to kill his victims. If they managed to get him, he was bound to give them a face, even a name. Freya would make sure of that.
They moved out, and she followed the men into the small, ugly building. Abandoned warehouse, like so often. She ignored Brendan's hand signs and concentrated on his thoughts instead. They were no-nonsense, fixed on the job at hand; familiar, reassuring. All right, go, go, go, hit him hard. She smiled.
Block never even saw them coming. One minute he was watching Jeopardy in front of a crappy TV set, primate, what's a primate, c'mon asshole, the next he was lying on the bare concrete floor, hands behind his neck and several weapons pointed at him.
And that was when things started to go wrong.
One of the small windows broke with a tinkle, and Block screamed before he started to convulse, a red-feathered poison dart sticking out of his neck. Freya stared in horror as the man began to throw up, choking and still trying to scream. With a rude curse, Brendan took off toward the back entrance, yelling, "I got him!" as he ran out of the room. Three of his team followed him.
Block was only convulsing slightly now. Freya knew enough about the poison to know that he didn't have much time left.
"Sherman!" She kneeled down beside him, ignoring the sharp stench of vomit, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sherman, look at me! Who did this to you?"
A giant red snake, smiling face of his mother, I don't want to die, help me!
"Sherman, I want to help you, but you have to tell me who did this to you!"
Emmett Emmett Emmett, God, it hurts, please, don't want to die. Block's legs were kicking weakly, his thoughts progressively jumbled. Outside, several shots were fired. Brendan.
"Emmett, is that the name? Sherman, is that the man who did this to you?" Freya asked frantically, feeling Block slipping away.
Emmett, antivenom, Dr. Emmett, Mom, please, Mom. The pleading thoughts stopped abruptly, and Block lay still, red-tinged vomit trickling out of his mouth. Freya wanted to scream. No lead to their terrorist, no face, just the name of someone who might or might not have an antidote for a poison that was acting so fast that the victim had that little white cardboard tag around their big toe before anyone had time to help them.
Patel's voice through the headset shook her out of her thoughts.
"We need an ambulance, fast. Dean's down."
Freya froze, and she had to fight down hysteric laughter as she realised how she was hoping that he had been shot. With a bullet, there was hope.
Not Brendan, she thought. Oh please, not Brendan.
~~~
Just a scratch.
Freya stared at the ashen face of her partner and friend, his body almost lost among the medical paraphernalia. He had been ahead of the others when Viper had shot him with a poison dart. No direct hit, just a scratch; the only reason he was still alive.
No one had even seen the terrorist, the pursuit called off when they had stumbled across Brendan's fallen body.
"We're administering an experimental antitoxin. There's a good chance he'll make it," the doctor had said. His thoughts had told another story. Neurotoxin, entry site swelling far too much, central nervous system severely affected, already inhibited respiration, comatose almost immediately, lucky he isn't dead yet, ten percent chance at best, don't tell her, it'll be a miracle if he responds to anything.
She had smiled, and nodded, and then reached for her magic phone, as Brendan still insisted on calling it. A few very thinly veiled threats to Harper about her leaving the NSA entirely, five minutes of research from Terri, and Freya had a plane to catch. Elkins, West Virginia.
"Don't worry, Brendan," she whispered, pressing a light kiss against his cold and clammy cheek. "I'm going to get help."
That Dr. Emmett better have his antivenom ready.
II. Emmett
"Hey, beauty. How are you doing today?" A scratchy, slithering sound was Emmett's only answer, then Betty appeared out of the gloom. She didn't have any facial expressions, of course, but he liked to imagine that she eyed the corn snake hungrily before gently taking it out of his hand and gulping it down. She never ceased to amaze him: scarlet queen boa, one of the last of her kind, and the 1.7 m corn snake, pumped full with venom as it was, looked tiny compared to her. And finally, finally, after years of research, she was giving him what he had been looking for almost all his life.
"Tasty, isn't it?" He smiled and reached out to pet her head, the scales rough and hard under his hand. She allowed the contact for a moment, then slid away. Every time she let him touch her, Emmett felt humbled; after all they'd been through, he wouldn't have blamed her for losing her trust in him. Maybe if they had been able to save at least one of her eggs; but as it was, he was probably the closest she'd ever had to offspring. He didn't think she'd have tolerated him like she did if she didn't see him as a child.
He left the humid twilight of her terrarium to get back into the lab. Government funding was at an all-time low, but now that he had the first version of his universal snake antivenom, that would change. He still had to test it, of course, but that was more of a formality than anything else. Betty's bloodwork, and the first cautious experiments under the microscope had looked incredibly promising, and if he were a people person, he'd have thrown a party. As it was, he'd contented himself with writing a told-you-so letter to every ophiologist who had ever laughed in his face.
The postage had eaten the rest of his funding, but it had been worth it.
If only Monica had still been around - another person he would have loved to tell, "See? I knew it!" She wasn't, though, and he hadn't bothered finding out her current address. The end of their little interlude hadn't been particularly pretty, something that hadn't really surprised him. Hot blondes with a penchant for dolphins were hardly likely to stay with someone whose life revolved around venomous snakes, and, in particular, a giant boa. She had never quite gotten how devoted he was to his work, demanding he spend more time with her. And while he had tried to give her what she needed, in the end, it hadn't been enough.
His studies had progressed a lot faster after she had left, though. So maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.
Emmett had just put another of Betty's blood samples under the microscope when there was a loud rap on the door, quickly followed by pounding and yelling. He sighed. Probably another tourist who had misread the signs for Longreen Snake Institute as Longrow Wellness Oasis and subsequently gotten lost. That happened almost once a week.
The petite, black-haired woman currently hammering on his front door didn't look especially lost, though.
"Dr. Emmett Emmett?" she asked, and Emmett winced.
"Yes," he answered shortly. Thanks to exceptionally cruel parents.
"I'm Freya McAllister, from the National Security Agency. I need your help."
"No." Nothing good had ever come from government agencies. Emmett had learned his lesson well after the last fiasco.
"Look, Dr. Emmett, I know you don't trust us," she ignored his involuntary snort, "but you are the only person who can save my partner. He's been poisoned with an unknown snake venom; he needs your antidote!"
How she knew that it was finished was beyond him, but then again, he had probably been under observation ever since he had stupidly agreed to help the FBI with their hunt for a giant python.
"My antivenom is experimental at best, not nearly ready to be administered to a human being." It would be irresponsible, as much as he wanted to help her. He knew how it felt to lose someone to a snakebite. "I'm sorry, Miss McAllister, but I really can't help you there." He turned away, ready to close the broad glass doors in her face.
"Please! You've got to help me! Think about… think about your sister!"
He froze, hand on the door handle. Slowly, he turned around, staring at this complete stranger who, by all rights, shouldn't have known anything about his sister.
"Excuse me?"
~~~
Freya
"Your sister." The pictures were bright and clear in his mind as she reminded him again. A little blonde girl, crying quietly as her body succumbed to the overdose of toxin. Their mother's pale, desperate face. Their father, lips moving in silent prayer as he carried his child to the car. "Your father tried to get her to the hospital, but the drive took too long. She died because no one in the village knew which antidote to use."
"How do you know that?" Emmett demanded, his face a mask of anger, but Freya kept talking, the words coming faster and faster.
"If there had been a universal antivenom, however experimental, you would have used it. You would have tried to save her life, no matter what."
Emmett's thoughts were a blur. How can she possibly- the FBI? No, they don't know this. Monica? But why-
"Monica has nothing to do with this. Please, doctor, we're running out of time!"
What, is she reading my mind?
"It's not important how I know this!" She had to get him to help, she thought desperately, wishing she had brought her Beretta with her. "My partner is dying, and I need your help!"
There was an almost audible click as his mind drew the last connections.
"You are reading my mind."
"Doctor, please-"
"Huh." For the first time, he looked at her with something like curiosity. "Is it just thoughts, or emotions, too?"
She stared at him, thrown by his reaction. He waited for a short moment, then gave a little shrug as he turned around and walked back into the building. It's probably classified anyway. Freya followed him.
"Doctor?"
"All I have so far is a sample. It can't be synthesised yet, but I'm making progress." Little blonde girl crying. You were right. I would have given anything.
They arrived in his lab, and she took the small vial he handed her almost reverently.
"Let me know if it works." He had a nice smile. A little crooked, but honest. I hope it does. I'm sure it does.
"Thank you." She didn't think those words had ever been more heartfelt.
Now she just had to hope that she wasn't too late.
~~~
"I've only been gone for a few hours!"
"I'm sorry, Miss McAllister. His body started shutting down almost immediately after you left." The doctor sounded apologetic. "There is nothing we can do for him."
Freya couldn't believe it. Wouldn't accept it. She hadn't gone all the way to Virginia to give up now, no matter how critical Brendan's state might be. She pushed the antivenom into the doctor's hands.
"Give it to him. He's not dead yet."
"Miss-" No use, too late-
"Give it to him!" Or I will make your life a living hell, her look promised, and the doctor visibly swallowed before he hurried off.
Freya sank down on a waiting chair, her face buried in her hands.
"Your father tried to get her to the hospital, but the drive took too long."
She knew how he must have felt.
III. Brendan
Beeping. Heart monitor, how he hated those things. Especially when all evidence indicated that he was the lucky person who had almost died this time. Cannula under his nose. No vent, but his throat was sore, so he had been on a respirator some time very recently. Right hand hurting a little as he twitched it, a sharp sting, most likely an IV.
Slight rustling of clothes to his left. Freya.
"What happened?" His voice was more of a croak than anything else, and he thought it again for good measure. Freya? What happened?
"Viper got you with a poison dart. That was yesterday. You've been here ever since."
Yesterday? Brendan concentrated, trying to retrace his steps. The memory was uncharacteristically fuzzy, but there: chasing out of the warehouse trying to find Viper, a man running away, stocky, dark skin, short sandy brown hair, casual clothes, shooting at him, the man turning around - exotic features, Polynesian? - and raising a thin black pipe, sting at his neck, then… nothing.
"You are lucky it was just a scratch," Freya said, her voice trembling a little. Must have been a close call.
"It was."
Brendan opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light before he turned his head to look at her. Dark circles under her eyes, skin pale, looking tired.
"You look like crap," he managed around the dryness of his throat, and she smiled tightly as she reached for a cup on his bedside table, putting the straw against his lips. Water. God, he was thirsty. Thank you.
"Well, at least I wasn't dying twelve hours ago."
"But I feel fine," Brendan protested. It was true, he did. Maybe the poison had gone bad?
"Before Block died, I picked up a name from him. Emmett, Dr. Emmett; he had created a universal antivenom. It was still experimental, but I managed to convince him that it was ready to be tested." Freya smiled. "We have to tell him it worked. He wasn't sure that it would."
"Antivenom?" Viper's one advantage is that no one can figure out that snake venom, which makes it impossible to develop a vaccine. If he knows there's a working antivenom… "…your doctor's as good as dead."
Freya's smile faded. "What?"
"And this hospital's a target, we have to get some of our men here, stat. Where's the antivenom?"
"There is nothing left. Dr. Emmett gave me his only sample, and we used it on you."
"Is it possible that they-"
"No. It can't be synthesized."
Brendan processed that for a moment.
"So the only one who could possibly have some of that stuff is Dr. Emmett."
Freya just looked at him, concern clear on her face, and Brendan made a decision.
"Call a doctor, we have to go."
"You're in no shape to-"
"I feel fine," he insisted, starting to sit up. "Get me the doctor, we're outta here."
~~~
The Snake Institute didn't quite live up to its name at that particular moment. What must have been a laboratory was smashed beyond recovery, and instead of snakes of all shapes and sizes, there were broken glass cases, empty. But what really made Freya's face fall was the blood on the wall. Brendan got that.
He didn't think it was snake blood, either.
"Call in another team," he said to Patel, who had accompanied them, along with a few other agents. "Looks like we have some deadly snakes on the loose, we'll need someone to recover them. And I want that blood analysed."
Patel nodded, and got out his phone. Brendan went over to Freya, who was staring at the bloodied wall, a forlorn expression on her face.
"I liked him," she said quietly when he came to stand beside her.
"I'm sorry."
It wasn't much, but it was all he had to offer. She nodded.
Patel's men had finished their search of the building, and he called for Brendan.
"They didn't find a body. God knows what Viper did with him. And there's a giant terrarium in the back of this building - empty. We might have something bigger on the loose, here."
"Great." Brendan sighed. "Get some of your men: looks like we're going snake hunting."
~~~
Emmett
Emmett was having a really bad day. He had been working on extracting another sample of the antivenom when he'd been attacked, most likely by someone who was pissed at him for giving that young woman what she had been asking for. Government agencies - he really should have known better. And now he was out here, hiding in the woods.
Blood was running into his eyes. Again. Well, head wounds tended to bleed a lot, didn't they? No cause for worry. At least he was alive.
Next to him, Betty raised her head. When Emmett had opened the door to her terrarium, half-blind and dazed from the blow to his head, he had been thinking more along the lines of setting her free to fend for herself instead of keeping her locked up and have her starve to death. Betty, however, had surprised him by defending him much like a mother would her child - even though snakes usually didn't have a mother's instinct. But Emmett's boa had proven more than once that she was a special kind of snake, and so one of his attackers was currently being digested.
He didn't know where the other was. Hence his hiding in the woods.
Where someone was approaching him right now.
Emmett tensed, and so did Betty.
"Wait, let him come closer," he whispered, although she couldn't possibly understand him. All she had picked up over time were her name, don't, and food.
A twig broke with a loud snap, and Betty shot forward. Through the leaves, Emmett could see a man in a black suit spin around, reaching for his gun.
"Don't!" he yelled at both of them, and the man gaped as Betty changed course at the last possible moment, brushing by him with a force that would have squashed the guy good and proper. She curled up a few feet away, watching them.
The man blinked, then turned to Emmett, slight accusation warring with shock on his face.
"What the hell is that?" he demanded loudly.
"Scarlet queen boa. One of the largest land snakes there are. What are you doing here?" Black suit and shiny shoes in the middle of a forest, not even knowing what he was looking for - government agency. Great.
"Looking for her, I guess." The man waved his gun in Betty's general direction. "And, well, the other snakes."
"What, are you stupid?" At the man's offended expression, Emmett elaborated. "Most of those snakes are deadly. Recovering them should be left to specialists. Not to… whatever you are."
The man rolled his eyes and finally put his gun away.
"Look, I think we started off on the wrong foot." He reached out his hand, leaving Emmett to look at it for a long moment before he mumbled, "okay," and withdrew it. "I'm Agent Brendan Dean, National Security Agency. I got a shot of a universal antivenom very recently, so I figured I was kind of immune to snake poison."
"Venom," Emmett corrected distractedly. "Snake toxin is usually harmless when ingested, and therefore not technically a poison."
"Ah. So you would be Dr. Emmett, I presume."
"Hm. You're the one who got bitten? Miss McAllister's partner?"
"Not bitten, shot at," Dean clarified. "There's a terrorist out there who kills with an unknown snake venom, and you're next on his list. Which is why you're going to New York."
What, New York?
"Excuse me?"
"Congratulations, Dr. Emmett." Dean smirked. "As of now, you're under protection of the NSA, namely me. Thanks for saving my life, by the way."
Oh, good, government protection. Emmett rolled his eyes. This day was getting better and better.
"Oh, you're welcome."
IV. Emmett
To his surprise, Emmett quickly learned that spending more or less the whole day with Brendan wasn't as bad as he had thought. On the contrary, after a rather rocky start, they were getting along just fine. While Brendan was a rather simple character, whistling cartoon show themes at least four times a day, he would actually listen to Emmett talk about snakes for hours - and remember the stuff. It was fairly flattering. For his part, Emmett didn't comment on the fact that Brendan was incredibly messy. He was used to cleaning up the lab and his snakes' terrariums on a daily basis - rotation principle, of course - and had just transferred that routine to the spacious apartment the NSA had so kindly rented for them.
They'd been living together for two weeks now, and had been on a first name basis since day three, when they had both been so bored they'd sat through a marathon of some stupid show about ridiculously good looking people fighting aliens in another galaxy. Emmett didn't even remember what it had been called, but Brendan could probably recite every single line. The guy seemed to have an eidetic memory, as opposed to being a mind reader like his partner, Freya.
As government agencies went, the NSA seemed to be one of the stranger ones.
Of course, it also helped that Brendan was what bad slang called eye-candy. Tall, slender almost to the point of being too thin, muscular in a wiry sort of way, dark hair and eyes that were sometimes green and sometimes a light brown - yes, Agent Brendan Dean was someone Emmett wouldn't mind spending some quality time with, preferably naked. A handsome man. And not exactly straight, either, according to the hints Freya kept dropping.
Freya. Brendan had almost thrown a fit when he'd realized that Emmett knew about the young woman's telepathic talents. A sharp comment from her about the scientist just accepting it and not freaking out in the slightest, which was more than could be said about certain other people, and Brendan had shut up. Just as well, because Emmett was curious, and Freya seemed somewhat flattered that his curiosity was of a rather sympathetic nature. She'd answer most of his questions before he'd actually say them aloud - probably testing him. He had surprised them both by finding it kind of cool rather than freaky.
It had earned him points with both her and Brendan.
"I'm ordering a pizza, you want something?" his bodyguard interrupted his thoughts.
"As long as it doesn't have these little fish, anything's fine by me," he answered.
Brendan ordered, and then let himself flop down on the couch next to Emmett.
"You seem awfully pensive today. Still worried about your snakes?"
"Kind of." And it was true, he was. Betty needed a very special diet to produce the right kind of antibody, and the rest of his snakes were rather spoiled as well.
"I thought that Dr. Fineman was taking care of them?"
"Yes, but he's a herpetologist specialising on amphibians. What does he know about snakes?"
Brendan nodded and patted his knee in what was probably supposed to be a friendly way. Emmett used all of his willpower to smile slightly, instead of jumping the other man and finding out if he still had his tonsils.
"Look," Brendan began, "we have a lead on Viper somewhere in Atlanta. It's just a few more days, and you can go home again."
Home. Back to Betty and research and the peaceful quiet of West Virginia's forests, away from New York with its smog and noise and too many people. Away from Brendan, who still hadn't taken his hand away, its warmth seeping through the fabric of Emmett's jeans.
Home.
"Hm."
~~~
Freya
"You're thinking of him again," she said teasingly, standing alone with Brendan in the brightly lit kitchen, after Emmett had excused himself and gone to bed half an hour earlier.
"Of course I'm thinking of him, I'm supposed to protect him." Not even looking at her, and she grinned.
"And that's why you're thinking of his mouth. To protect him."
Brendan shot her a glare, do you ever shut up?, and Freya laughed.
"At least now I know why my sister wasn't your type."
"Would you please shut up now?" he snapped, stalking out of the kitchen and into the living room. "It's not like that."
He let himself drop onto the couch, sulking, and she sat gingerly down beside him.
"It is like that." She was careful to keep her voice gentle. "And he likes you, so I don't get why you won't tell him."
"It's my job. He's my job, and I can't afford to get emotionally involved, you know that." You know that.
"Brendan." Freya let her hand rest tenderly against his cheek. "Isn't it a little late for that?"
Brendan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then he opened his mouth to give her an answer she already knew - but before he could say anything, his cellphone rang.
He flipped it open.
"What?"
A moment of silence while he listened, then his face changed subtly.
"They have? No, that's good." Another brief pause. "Are you sure? All right, I'll tell him. No, we'll come in tomorrow. Thanks."
He snapped the phone shut and turned to Freya.
"They've got him."
Viper.
~~~
"Have a safe trip."
Emmett handed his rather small bag to the taxi driver, and turned to her with a half smile.
"Thank you."
"We would have driven you to the airport ourselves, but we-"
"-have work to do, I know."
"Yeah."
There was a moment of awkward silence between them.
"Look, I'm sorry Brendan isn't here, but-"
"Freya. It's okay."
Brendan. Their shoulders touching as they watched a movie, warmth, dorky grin, I should have…
Freya couldn't help herself; she closed the distance between them for a hug. Emmett started a bit, then hugged her back just as tightly.
"It's not," she whispered. "It's really, really not. And Brendan's an idiot."
A warm huff of air against her temple as he laughed quietly.
"Come visit me. Seriously, I'll introduce you to Betty. You could finally lift the mystery and tell me if she likes me."
She snorted, enjoying his warmth just that little bit longer.
"It doesn't work with animals."
"Hm. Too bad."
Then they let go, stepped back, and Emmett gave her a little wave before he got into the cab.
"Bye, Freya."
She nodded, and waved as the cab started away from the sidewalk, and into the traffic.
"Goodbye."
V. Brendan
Terri greeted him with a big smile as he arrived at the field office.
"It was a takedown straight out of the handbook. He never even knew what hit him."
"Nice."
Head straight for the coffeemaker, maybe she'll leave you alone.
No such luck.
"Didn't you want to take that doctor to the airport?"
"There's been a slight change of plans. Freya's getting him a cab."
"Ah."
She was itching to ask, he could see it, so Brendan decided on a pre-emptive strike.
"Get me a tape of the strike in Atlanta, would you?"
"Sure."
Terri hurried away, and Brendan sighed before getting himself a coffee. He should have taken Emmett to the airport. He didn't even know why he hadn't, and Freya would give him hell for it later. Rightfully so.
He slouched down in front of his computer, sipping his coffee and waiting for the tape. No wonder his life was a mess, if he was such a damn coward. He could have given Emmett his private number. Hell, he could have asked the man for a date - if he'd said no, there would have been hundreds of miles between them. They never would have had to see each other again.
Damn it.
Terri came back, putting a disc into his outstretched hand.
"Here you go. Have fun."
"Thanks."
He started the program, and leaned back to watch. The picture was from a security camera in a hotel lobby; a bit grainy, but clear enough. Two agents in civilian clothes were stationed in front of the little gift shop. Two at the front desk were seemingly caught up in casual conversation with a clerk - another agent. One right at the door, dressed up as a porter, one waiting next to the elevator. A man entered the lobby, dark skinned and stocky, and yes, the takedown had really gone down like something straight out of the handbook. The man had barely reached the desk before they had him on the floor; secured, handcuffed; disarm him, pull him up, get him out of the building. Perfect.
Yet something nagged at Brendan, something not quite right, and when, right in front of the door, the camera got the first real shot of the man's face, Brendan froze.
Close. Very close. But not the one.
Setting his mug down hard on his desk, he was out of the chair, grabbing for his jacket as he turned to run toward the exit, his thoughts a litany of fuck, fuck, fuck!
Freya met him halfway, a thunderous expression on her face.
"You. You are the biggest idiot-"
"The man they arrested wasn't Viper," he interrupted her, and steered her right back to the elevator. No, too slow. Stairs.
"What?"
"You're right, I'm an idiot. It was all a setup, damn it!"
Run down the stairs, get to the fucking car…
"Brendan?"
Freya was stumbling next to him, trying to keep up.
"No need to protect someone if the bad guy's under arrest, right? 'Just let the good doctor go home again, he's safe now.' Viper's probably already waiting at the damn airport."
Get into the car, ignore partner's breathless questions, start the damn engine.
And drive.
~~~
Somewhere during the frantic drive to the airport, Brendan had found the time to picture Viper's face in his mind, so Freya would know what to look for. She had called the office for backup, but they'd still arrive minutes before anyone else would show up.
Damn it.
The airport was full of people, leaving, arriving, waiting, or just shopping. Too many, and he looked around for that familiar face, or alternatively, Emmett.
"Which gate's Emmett's flight?" he called.
"Seven," Freya answered, and he took off. Waving his credentials around to get them both through security, he ran toward the gate. The flight was already boarding, time running out, and he hoped like hell that they weren't too late.
Then, right at the terminal, he spotted him.
"Emmett!" No reaction, louder: "Emmett!"
The scientist raised his head, and looked around quizzically. Spotting Brendan, he started to turn - and jerked back as a dart hit his neck, two more embedding themselves in his chest and abdomen.
Time slowed. Through the blood rushing in his ears, Brendan could hear Freya's voice, shouting, "No!" as Emmett stared at them in confusion, stumbled, and went down. Around them, people were screaming, but it barely registered. All that mattered was that sneering face at the edge of the crowd, the hand raising the blow pipe.
Brendan pulled the trigger.
The first shot turned the sneer into a mask of shock and disbelief, the second wiped all expression from the terrorist's face as he went down. The third and fourth shot were to be certain, and from the fifth shot on, there was nothing but the blank gaze of death and pulling the trigger again and again until the clip was empty.
Eleven bullet holes. Most of them not even bleeding.
By then, most of the travellers had either thrown themselves to the floor or scattered away. Brendan turned toward where Emmett was lying, gun falling from his numb fingers. Freya had pulled out the darts, softly whispering as the scientist blinked up at the ceiling with a dazed look on his face.
Three darts. Three direct hits.
Brendan stumbled over to them, dropping to his knees beside the fallen man.
"Emmett."
VI. Emmett
Strange ceiling for an airport. Flashing lights, dancing colours, like a drug experiment gone wrong. Or maybe this was a drug experiment gone wrong, and he couldn't remember. Was he into drugs? He didn't think so, but then again, why would he lie on an airport floor and stare at the ceiling?
He blinked, trying to turn his head, to see if there were other people around him, people who could explain, but he couldn't feel his neck. In fact, he couldn't feel any part of his body, and he should probably be worried about that. Instead, he idly wondered what it would feel like to shed his skin. Maybe it would be similar. Maybe he was shedding his skin.
He would have laughed at the thought, but he felt too tired. There was a darkness lurking at the edge of his vision, trying to pull him in, but it looked boring, so he waved it away. Pretty colours were better.
A man's face swam into his view, blurred and contorted. He regarded it curiously - he knew that face. A name drifted into his consciousness, and with a lazy thought, he grabbed at it: Brendan. Was he Brendan? No. The blurry face above him was Brendan, funny, messed-up Brendan, who hadn't cared enough to say goodbye and yet was somehow there. Lips moving, but he, Emmett - that was him, Emmett, what a silly name - couldn't hear a thing.
How sad, he thought with a fleeting notion of regret. He kind of liked the other man's voice. He would have liked to listen.
Emmett closed his eyes, or maybe he passed out for a bit, but with the next blink, his limbs were prickling like crazy, and the sounds of the airport were back, agitated voices, people yelling, Brendan.
Brendan.
"Hang in there, come on, you'll be fine, don't die on me now-"
"Oh shit," Emmett whispered, an overwhelming feeling of nausea rising, pushing at the hands that were trying to keep him down. He opened his mouth to beg them to leave him be, but all that came out was a short groan, and then the vomiting started.
It went on forever, dry heaves wracking his body even after his stomach was empty and nothing was left to throw up, leaving him gagging and coughing and shaking, pathetically grateful for every bit of air he managed to inhale. It was violent, painful, and somewhere between the cramps he had developed a pounding headache, but there were strong, gentle hands holding him so he wouldn't soil himself, Freya's voice calling for an ambulance, Brendan's shaky reassurances close to his ear.
"It's going to be fine, you'll be all right, come on, you're doing fine, just a little bit longer…"
This time, when the darkness came, he let himself fall into it.
Warmth. Brendan.
VII. Brendan
Brendan drove alone in his car, trying to keep it at a reasonable speed. He had supervised the clean-up at the airport, talked with Harper on the phone to give him a preliminary report. Then he'd had to deal with airport security and their damn stupid questions of "isn't the NSA all about encryption and stuff?" before he could finally, finally leave. The ambulance with Emmett was long gone by then. Freya had volunteered to go back to the field office and be the one giving their report, so that Brendan could drive straight to the hospital and check up on Emmett.
To see if he was still alive.
Brendan pressed his lips together, his mind caught in a constant loop of Emmett's body hitting the floor. Yes, he had been attracted to the guy, but in no way had that prepared him for the way he had just snapped when… when…
Fuck.
One dart in the neck. Another in the chest, the third driven deep into his abdomen. Vital points. A confused blink as their eyes met, then a light sway, a stagger. Finally knees giving way, stumbling, falling, right knee hitting first, then the left, upper body sinking to the left, dropping heavily to the ground. Glazed eyes staring at the ceiling as he came to rest, limp and unmoving on the dirty floor. Unresponsive.
Fuck.
"Fuck!" he cursed, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel.
If he had done his job properly, Emmett wouldn't be dying right now.
One dart in the neck. Another in the chest, the third driven deep into his abdomen. Vital points…
Later, he couldn't have said how he had gotten to the hospital. The nurse at the front desk frowned at him when he stormed up to her.
"Dr. Emmett?"
Not the morgue. Please, not the morgue.
"Are you a relative?"
Brendan pulled out his credentials and shoved them under her nose.
"NSA. Where is he?"
"ICU. Room 5-13."
ICU. That meant alive, didn't it?
The ICU ward was bustling with activity, people running past him with alarmed shouts, the high-pitched blaring of an alarm making him feel numb with apprehension. Nurses and doctors, frantic activity directed toward one room, and he didn't want to read the plate, even as his eyes were drawn to it, didn't want to-
It was room 5-7. Relief flooded his system like a drug. 5-13 was at the end of a short corridor, and he pushed the door open without bothering to think too much about what he might find behind it.
He found Emmett, hooked up to a heart monitor, a cannula under his nose, and grinning at him, albeit weakly.
"Hi."
Staring, Brendan felt at a loss for words.
"Hi," he said dumbly.
"You could grab a chair," Emmett suggested, and Brendan did, still staring.
"Why the hell aren't you dead?" Brendan blurted finally, when the constant beeping became too much.
"Serotherapy." Emmett grinned again, at Brendan's blank stare adding, "Vaccination. I played my own guinea pig with Betty's antivenom, building up an immunity to snake toxin. Of course, I couldn't be sure it was working until I actually got bitten, but I wasn't ready for that kind of test."
"You… injected yourself with an unknown drug?"
"No, I injected myself with an antivenom I had developed myself. And, granted, it couldn't completely stave off a reaction to three poison darts, but it was enough to save my life. That's all that counts, isn't it?"
Yeah. Pretty much. Only Brendan was beginning to feel more than a little angry, after two hours of completely unnecessary worrying, not to mention the guilt and the strange feeling of loss, and here was Emmett, still grinning, and suddenly, he wanted to break the man's nose. And Emmett must have picked up on that, because his grin faded, to be replaced by a look of concern.
"Brendan? Are you all right?"
"Yeah." He pulled himself together. "Just, you know. A little tired after a long day's work."
It was barely noon, but neither of them commented on that.
"Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were all good to go home. This sure was one of the more interesting cases."
Ignoring Emmett's slightly hurt look, he stood up and turned to leave the room. In the doorway, he paused.
"Freya sends her regards," he said, still inexplicably pissed, and left.
"Brendan?" Emmett called after him.
He just kept walking.
He had a report to write.
VIII. Emmett
"Hey, beauty. Did you lose weight? I think you did." The corn snake tried to curl around his arm, but Betty was faster, cautiously taking it from his hand before swallowing it with one huge gulp. "I should have known better than to hand you over to Fineman. Really, what does he know about snakes?"
She nudged him gently with her large head, and he sighed.
"Sorry. You just ate the last one."
She nudged him again, and he petted her head.
"Guess I'll have to go outside, huh?"
He didn't really want to. Now that it was clear his antivenom was working, he had more government funding than he'd ever asked for. And a research team. And they were building a second, larger, lab right across the street.
So much for peaceful West Virginia. And he hated it with a passion, because all he had wanted to do for the last month was draw back and lick his wounds in private, but they just wouldn't let him.
He still wasn't sure what had happened. One moment Brendan was standing in the door, regarding him with a mix of relief and anxiety, and the next it was DefCon 3. Or Cold War. Whatever.
Emmett kept telling himself that if he had Brendan's number, he would call. Ask him what went wrong. Maybe even ask him for a date. He'd be the first to admit that while he did great with snakes, he was actually terrible with people, but maybe they could have made it work.
Right, if only he had the number. Because it wouldn't be oh so easy to ask Freya. At least she was still talking to him.
"You know, it's pathetic. I'd been with Monica for over a year, and I already miss him more."
Betty hissed quietly. Well, she hadn't liked Monica all that much, after those damn bio sensors had messed her up for almost two months after they had been taken out. She didn't like anyone all that much, an excuse Emmett had almost desperately grabbed for, using her feeding time as a welcome escape from all the hubbub. He had never been one for company, but this was getting ridiculous.
Petting Betty's head one final time, he opened the terrarium door and stepped outside.
And froze.
"Hello Emmett," Freya said, looking up at him and smiling as she pulled him into a hug.
"Freya." He returned the embrace a little awkwardly, taking a few seconds to get over his surprise and find his voice. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting you." She said it like it should have been obvious. Well, it probably was. "Maybe tying up some loose ends."
"Don't talk about tying up loose ends around a bunch of ophiologists," Emmett joked. All right, lame, but he hadn't expected her, and at least his team obediently sniggered. Freya threw them a look.
"Emmett... let's go outside for a while, okay?"
Emmett shrugged. It wasn't like he couldn't wait to talk about his private life in front of his assistants. And Freya looked as though talking about his private life was exactly what she was planning to do, so he followed her through the lab and out of the building.
A silver car was parking in front of the Institute. And leaning against the car, dressed in civvies, picking at his shirt, was Brendan.
Emmett stopped short.
"What is this?"
Brendan's head shot up.
"Emmett, hi. I, um. How are you?" he asked sheepishly, looking nervous.
Instead of an answer, Emmett crossed his arms in front of his chest, ignoring the way he could feel his heart pounding against his fist. The least Brendan owed him was an explanation, if not an apology.
Brendan's apparent nervousness faded into downright uncertainty.
"Look, uh. I know I'm not... I didn't behave like I should have. I had no right to blame you for surviving, but, can't we just... I know I blew it, but you're always... Freya keeps complaining that I can't get you out of my head." He looked a little sick.
"Hm."
"'Hm'? Is that... what did you say?" Babbling. It was irritatingly cute.
"Hm," Emmett repeated, suppressing a smile. He walked down the few steps in front of the building and came to stand before Brendan, who stared at him with a strange combination of wariness and hope.
"So what does that mean, 'hm'?"
Emmett's gaze dropped to Brendan's lips, sighing as the tip of a pink tongue nervously flicked over them, leaving them moist and glistening. He leaned forward, cautiously, just in case Brendan experienced another outbreak of irrationality, but if anything, Brendan's head tilted toward him.
The kiss was short, almost shy, more a promise than anything else. But to Emmett, it was the sweetest thing ever.
Brendan was smiling goofily when they pulled apart.
"So 'hm' is a good thing."
Behind them, Freya laughed.
IX. Freya
Freya smiled as Brendan started to snore softly. They had been on a stakeout all day, still were, but at least now another team had taken over, and they could sleep for a few hours.
It would have been nicer to go home, of course. Especially for Brendan, who had only convinced Emmett to return with them to New York on the promise of at least regular evenings together. Something her workaholic partner had to get used to.
She turned to look at him, stretched out uncomfortably in the back of the van. He looked even younger asleep, almost innocent with his mouth half open and drooling on his jacket. His eyes were moving rapidly beneath the closed lids, dreaming, and she couldn't resist, had to sneak a peek.
-eyes closed, his body warm, hot; cool air against his sweat-slick skin; feeling every single strand of the sheets' fabric underneath his back, coarse, scratchy, delicious contrast to the softness of Emmett's hands as they slid lower, skimmed across his hips. One continued the journey downwards, caressing the tender skin of his inner thighs, while the other closed around his-
Freya looked away, her cheeks burning with the force of her blush. That was… that was not what she had expected. Who would have thought that her chaotic but overall rather analytical partner could let go like that? She stared at the surveillance monitors for a while, trying to resist temptation, knowing that intruding was wrong, but Brendan's dream-memories lured her in again.
-and started to suck, tongue playing with his circumcision scar. Brendan couldn't stay silent, couldn't stay still; he had to gasp, hips bucking without conscious decision to find more of that suction, more of that heat, only Emmett drew back until only the tip of Brendan's dick was still in his mouth.
"Damn it, come back here," Brendan rasped, twitching at the sound of a plastic tube being snapped open. "Emmett-"
A large hand closed around his erect member, squeezing hard, and Brendan exhaled with a ragged sigh.
"Patience."
He flinched as a slick finger started to flicker around his hole, teasing him oh so lightly until he couldn't stand it anymore.
"Emmett, stop playing-" and the finger pushed in, sliding in up to the first digit, drawing back, pushing in further, and Brendan could feel it, how his muscles were clenching around the intruder, sucking him further inside. Higher and higher Emmett's finger went, screwing its way inside, brushing over, "oh, God," his prostate, accidentally maybe, but the pleasure made Brendan gasp, made him shiver, and-
Freya closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. Oh, wow. Of course, she'd known, in a way, that Brendan and Emmett didn't spend their time at home watching TV. At least, not all of it. But this was, this was…
This was hot.
Squirming on the edge of her seat looking for some friction hot, and that wasn't right; getting aroused by spying on Brendan's sex-life wasn't right at all, and Freya was better than that. Really, she was.
She opened her eyes, just the tiniest fraction.
-panting as Emmett kept slamming into him, hot, heavy, weight pressing him into the mattress, in and out, in and out, stretching him, filling him up, and Brendan's muscles were screaming with the strain, legs locked painfully around Emmett's back, but he ignored it, ignored everything except the feeling of being fucked, being owned, so close to coming, so close to letting go, so close-
Well. At least now she knew why Emmett kept grinning.
+++
There you go, smuffster! Hope you like! :)