❝ this is your bodyguard for the next little while, agent brendon urie. ❞
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𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.
𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐂𝐔, 𝐏𝐑𝐄-𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑.
𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄...
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✧ ✧ ✧
"MY WHAT?" YOU VOICED, EYES NARROWED AS YOU LOOKED AT THE DIRECTOR.
"Your bodyguard."
"Why the hell do I need a bodyguard?" you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest.
"To stay alive," said a cold, harsh voice. You turned to its owner, who was giving you a rather unfriendly look, and shook your head.
"I don't need a bodyguard. I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself alive, thank you very much," you argued, slightly offended that Director Fury would even doubt that.
Brendon opened his mouth to deliver a snappy response, but the raising of his superior's left hand stopped him.
"I'm sure that you are," The Director nodded, his one visible eye widened, "in a typical self-defence situation. Against Hydra agents, not so much."
You wanted to argue with him, but he cut you off.
"Yes, I'm well aware that your father gave you some lessons here and there, but when – and be honest with me – was the last time you had one of those?"
As much as you wanted to continue the dispute, you were at a loss. It had been a long time. Too long.
"Exactly," he said smugly when you sighed in resignation, "Agent Urie is the best agent S.H.I.E.L.D has to offer; he'll make sure you stay safe. Trust him."
Your gaze flickered from Fury to Brendon; the latter's cold, hard stare unsettled you. He looked like a damn good agent, you'd admit that, but he looked nothing like someone you'd want to spend most of your time with.
The Director noticed your apprehension, and he spoke again. "Or at the very least, (Y/N), trust me."
~
"Is this really necessary?" you sighed, reluctantly taking the Glock 17 Brendon held out to you.
"Yes. You need to be able to defend yourself," he replied in a cold voice, his face void of all emotion except for a mild hint of annoyance.
"I thought that's what you're here for?"
"Yes, but it would make everything a hell of a lot easier knowing that if something happens to me, you're not completely helpless. So, shut up and shoot the target," he hissed through gritted teeth. Moving to stand behind you, he folded his arms across his chest in his usual manner and you could've sworn you heard him whisper a snide 'If you can' under his breath.
