Rating: R, to be safe.
Characters: Freya, Brendan and a wee bit of Michael
Summary: "Don't leave me," she asked him and something in his eyes softened, a rare vulnerability crying in relief at the sight of her.
This is for koalathebear who pleaded for Brendan/Freya. This unbeta'ed so, er, I'm sorry for my mistakes!
He hated this.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she mumbled against his chest as he held her up. "I just-" she said and his hand tightened around the swell of her hip as he listened to her struggle to regain her breath. "Just a minute," she whispered finally, fingers curled around the fabric of his jacket as he felt her heart slowing against his chest.
"Freya," he started and felt the barely perceptive movement of her head, asking for his silence and understanding. "This can't go on. Michael can teach you-"
"No," she told him and he felt her tremble against him as she pulled away. Her cheeks were flush, lips pale when he looked down at her and he didn't understand his sudden need to touch her, to reach out and protect her. It was an uncomfortable sensation that only intensified when she tilted her head upward to meet his gaze and she looked younger and more vulnerable then he could ever recall.
"We wouldn't get far if I couldn't see their memories. Their voices only say so much," she told him and he watched her take an unsteady breath before he focused his gaze at a spot on the wall above her head.
"I can handle the rest of the interrogation," he told her stiffly. "We know where the girl is. Go."
"Brendan," Freya started and he could hear self-righteous anger welling in the space between their words. "I'm not-"
"A child, I know but you-"he faltered and she watched him struggle for a moment for his words and could feel his anger, sharp and hot brush against her mind.
I care about you.
Freya blinked in surprise. "I didn't know," she said quietly, large eyes wide and luminous under the florescent light. "I'm sorry," she told him and he watched her face shift, regret darkening her eyes. "I didn't mean too, you just…it was strong," she said, tasting for the first time the newness of his words and the feelings spreading across her mind.
"Freya." Shit. I just need to-"I just need to do things on my own terms."
"I really didn't mean to," she told him, feeling embarrassed and young beside him.
"I know," he told her empathically and she watched him struggle with the decision to reach out to her, to touch her. His hand hovered awkwardly above her shoulder for a few moments before he snatched it back. "We work together and I just don't think-"
"I care about you too," she blurted out, a little louder then she intended and watched Brendan's face work through the multitude of emotions that had grown between them since last year. Their relationship had started out clumsily, a botched job with Lars, despite the fact they'd caught him in the end. He'd been angry and distant for a while and she'd closed her mind off to him, afraid of what she'd hear.
Then he'd spoken to Michael and Freya wanted to be angry with him for sharing her past with Brendan but she felt relief instead. She didn't think she could have told him and relive that part of her life just yet. He'd changed towards her after that. It wasn't pity like she feared but understanding. There was a healthy amount of wariness between them but trust had filled in the gaps and they functioned smoothly together as a team.
She hadn't realized that she'd wanted more, that there could be more until she'd heard it from him. "Brendan, say something," she asked. "Please I-" she started but he cut her off, hands sliding up her arms, fingers curling around the back of her neck as he titled her head up. He kissed her, mouth hot and wanting on her own as he pressed her against the two-way glass.
This is crazy, anyone could walk in.
He started to pull away, but she grabbed his coat, tongue moving swiftly across his lips, asking for entrance. Stay with me she thought and felt him relax beside her. His hand slid back and forth across her waist, fingers warm and rough when they dipped below the line of her skirt. Freya shivered against him and listened to his mind, thoughts and images. Her own face, mouth open in pleasure and the sound of her abrupt, desperate cry beneath him as his voice broke against her.
The feel of him moving above her and the sensation of warm, sweat soaked skin cooling in the wake of everything stayed long after he drew away from her. "Freya," Brendan said, thumb pressed along the smooth column of her throat as she watched him begin to distance himself from her. She could hear the mistake become clear in his mind as she saw herself as he did. Young and vulnerable, someone who he would let get close. Too close.
"Don't," she told him sharply, reaching out for his other hand. "Don't leave me," she asked him and something in his eyes softened, a rare vulnerability crying in relief at the sight of her.
"Freya," he asked, voice high and strained.
"It's ok," she said softly. "It's ok to let me in," she promised, feeling the quickening of her own pulse in his hands.
I'm afraid she heard and knew it wasn't his conscious voice that spoke to her but something deeper, awakening inside him.
"Let me in," Freya urged and felt his hand slide from her neck to rest above the swell of her breast. She listened to the beat of her own heart against his hand, strong and sure.
"Ok," he breathed.