Author's Note: I needed to write some fluffy fluff after writing so much angsty angst on my SGA fic(which is right on schedule, don't worry). Thanks to Commodore Norrington for betaing!


1. The Takedown

'You made the right call, Freya.' Brendan's repeated thought echoing in her mind didn't make her feel better. She'd just killed a man, if you could call nineteen-year-old Justin Bingham a man. Out of his mind on heroin and out of money for his next fix, he'd kidnapped his supplier's eight-year-old son. It promised for an interesting take-down, as the drug lord -- unable to hide his illegal dealings when he reported who had taken his son -- was now going to do time as well. Brendan and Freya, along with agents Saks and Hyde, had broken into the boarded-up arcade where Justin and a few of his fellow junkies were hiding out. Justin had held the boy at knifepoint and in his irrational state had refused to let the boy go. Horrified, Freya had seen Justin slit the boys throat and then realized with sickening familiarity that it hadn't happened yet. Her training had kicked in and she fired, killing Justin instantly, before he had a chance to follow through.

Now Freya sat on the sidewalk outside, leaning against the side of the building and hugging her knees to her chest. She'd left as soon as the scene had been secured; she couldn't bear to look at the young man she had shot. When she heard someone walking towards her several minutes later, she swiped away the tears that were filling her eyes. She didn't need to look up to know it was Brendan.

"Freya, you alright?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he sat down next to her. "The first one's always hardest," he said after a pause. 'Oh, way to go, B. That was real comforting.'

"Is that supposed to mean that after the tenth or twentieth I'll get used to killing people?" she asked sadly. "That I won't even care any more?"

"No," Brendan answered gently. "It's always hard." 'Especially when they're young…'

Freya closed her eyes, trying not to think about it, but found that just made it easier for her mind to replay the violent memory over again. "God, he was nineteen…" She tried to wipe away another tear before Brendan could see it, but he did anyways.

"C'mere," he murmured, placing his arm around her and gently drawing her head to rest on his shoulder. Another tear slipped down her cheek and she nestled closer against him as he began stroking her hair. She felt him place a gentle kiss on the top of her head and heard him whisper, "You made the right call."

2. The Office

"How you holding up over there, Freya?" No answer. "Freya?" Brendan repeated, looking up from his computer. He smiled when he saw her, head resting on arms folded atop her desk, fast asleep. He glanced at the clock in the bottom corner of his computer screen and squinted at the fuzzy numbers. She had made it until four o'clock. 'Not bad for your first all-nighter, Freya,' he mused.

When Brendan noticed her shiver slightly, he grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and walked over to her desk. Trying his best not to wake her, he draped the garment over her sleeping form. Freya mumbled something in her sleep and shifted a little, causing a lock of her dark hair to fall across her face. Brendan reached his hand out and tenderly brushed the errant strands away, then allowed his hand to continue gently stroking her hair. 'Soft… Beautiful…' Impulsively, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. 'Sweet dreams, Freya.'

3. The Company Picnic

No matter how much 'gender equality' talk a man spouts, deep down, he more than likely doesn't believe that women are equal to men in every respect. This was evidenced when four of the female agents decided that they wanted to join the guys' impromptu game of football. The male agents had agreed and said that they would play touch. Shawna had protested, saying, "We shoot guns, we can handle tackle." Despite the assurances from the women that full-contact was fine with them, the men still refused to tackle them. Until Freya caught the ball, that is.

Brendan was the closest to Freya and, seeing his chance, he rushed at her. Seconds later, his body slammed into hers and he protectively cradled her head in his hands so she wouldn't get a concussion as he took her to the ground. They both landed on the grass with grunts. Brendan quickly moved to support his weight on his hands so as not to suffocate her, but didn't get up just yet. 'Gosh, she's hot.' His eyes suddenly widened when he felt his body reacting to the fact that he was on top of her. 'Oh, crap.'

Freya smirked, not needing to hear his thoughts to realize his predicament. "Somebody's excited," she teased.

"Uhhh…" More thoughts that he really should not be having and that she really did not need to read.

Freya sighed. "For crying out loud, Brendan, if you want to kiss me, just kiss me!"

Brendan slowly grinned, ignoring the voice of Lee calling for him to "just retrieve the damn football." Shifting his weight to his left hand, he gently touched her cheek with his right. Then he leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss, which Freya returned.

They broke apart a moment later when Lee whooped and hollered, "Looks like Brendan scored!"

Freya blushed as Brendan got off her and then reached a hand down to pull her up. "So," she said as she handed him the football, "what happened to not tackling the women?"

Brendan shrugged. "You know how it is when you get caught up in the game," he answered. Then he smirked. 'And it was a damn good excuse.'

4. The Hospital

He knew she'd be fine. They'd removed the bullet, given her some blood, and patched her up. She didn't even look that bad. A little pale maybe, but none the worse for wear. It wasn't as if she was technically unconscious, either; she was just sleeping. Yet Brendan still blamed himself for "letting" Freya get shot, for not shooting the bastard first. Oh, Brendan had killed the man alright, but not before the psycho had had the chance to put an armor-piercing round through Freya's vest. Thankfully, his aim had been slightly off and the bullet had penetrated her chest only an inch below her clavicle.

Now, four hours later, Brendan sat by her bedside, holding her hand and compulsively stroking it. And blaming himself. 'Dammit, B, you should have taken him out the minute he refused to drop his weapon. Stupid, stupid. And now she's hurt.' He just looked at her for a moment. 'So fragile, so innocent.' He brought her small hand up to his lips and kissed it. 'So beautiful. And she's hurt because of you…'

A mumbled, "Not your fault," accompanied by a hand-squeeze startled him. He looked back to her face. Groggy from the lingering effects of the anesthesia, Freya hadn't bothered to open her eyes, but her lips were upturned in the slightest of smiles.

He kissed her hand again. 'I think I love you.'

She turned her head sleepily toward the sound of his voice and whispered, "I love you, too."

5. The Mail Room

Freya smiled when she saw the small box on her desk. Brendan had taken to leaving her gifts in places he knew she'd find them; it was the only way he could surprise her. Two weeks ago, her mailman had handed her two tickets to see "The Phantom of the Opera" on Broadway along with her stack of mail. Three weeks before that, she had returned from the restroom to find a gorgeous bracelet from Tiffany's resting around the neck of her Dasani bottle.

This time, it was a black necklace box with a gold ribbon tied around it. She decided to read the small, gilded note under the ribbon first. 'I'll be waiting impatiently in the mail room,' it announced in Brendan's handwriting. Freya smiled and untied the ribbon. When she took the lid off the box, she couldn't contain a surprised gasp. Strung onto a flat, gold necklace was a diamond ring.

Freya stared at the ring in ecstatic shock for a moment, then grabbed the necklace and made a mad dash for the elevator. She scowled in frustration as she punched the first floor button for the seventh time, as if that would make it go faster. She slipped the ring off the necklace, which she then clasped around her neck. She was about to slide the ring onto her finger but stopped; that was Brendan's job.

When the elevator doors finally opened on the first floor, Freya raced toward the mail room, bursting through the doors and causing Brendan to jump. "Yes!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes," she murmured, kissing the side of his neck.

'Holy-- She said, "Yes"!!' Breathing a sigh of relief, Brendan gently titled her head up for an intimate kiss. 'Mm. Love you so much, Freya. B, you are the luckiest man alive!' He broke the kiss just long enough to slide the ring onto Freya's finger and to lock the doors to the mail room. Then he pressed her up against the wall with a possessive growl.

"Brendan, wait," Freya moaned as he began a trail of sensuous kisses down her neck. "Trevino's being transferred here today. What if Harper wants me?"

"Screw Harper. Harper doesn't want you like I want you."

Freya grinned.