A/N: Lol, I just couldn't stop myself. This turned out radically different than what I set out to write, and very different than what I've previously done with this series. I thought about posting it as a separate fic, but decided that since it is pretty cracky at heart, and is still based on a Brittany one-liner, to include it in here. I was initially going to split it up and post it in several parts, but decided to just go ahead and make the whole thing one ridiculously long chapter. There are shades of "Chuck" in here, as it's the only spy show I've ever watched, but I don't think I ripped off too much. Um, this is technically both Brittana and Brittany/OFC.

Backup, Or: Agent Brittany Gets the Girl

"I'm pretty sure my cat's been reading my diary."

Several hundred miles away, in a secure facility, a middle-aged, grizzled man ripped the headset from his head, threw them to the table, and growled, "That's the code phrase. She needs backup."

He turned around to address a woman of about eighteen who was lounging against the wall, cleaning her nails with a knife. "Tomlinson! You up for this?"

Tomlinson looked up from her nails with a feral grin, and purred, "Always."

The next day Agent Tomlinson had been inserted into the Lima public school system as a transfer student, and she was about to make contact with her fellow agent. She spotted her a little ways down the hall, looking all cozy with the brunette. Tomlinson shook her head ruefully; it always amazed her how fully Agent Brittany could give herself to a cover.

At two years old Brittany had come to the attention of certain members of the US Intelligence community for her above genius-level IQ and her ability to accidentally(?) make explosives from items found in a normal day care. They knew that if they didn't gain access to her, she could become a serious threat to national security. So, from two until the age of ten, she had become the property of the US government, and had been put through the most rigorous training program known to man. Knives, guns, explosives, subterfuge, acting, dancing, chemistry, biology, they taught her anything that might help her in her job as a weapon of the government. By the time she hit puberty she was one of the most dangerous human beings alive. One thing they couldn't teach, however, was normal social skills. It was decided to place her back in the care of her parents in Lima, so that she could mingle with people of her own age. Only during the summers did her training outside Lima continue as usual.

Of course the actual Brittany Pierce would attract too much attention, so a nominal cover was concocted to help her blend in. Genius Agent Brittany became dim bulb ditzy Brit-Brit, and her interests were shifted from weapons and science to cheerleading and music.

In the last year, in a coincidence of monumental proportions, it had become evident that a large terrorist cell was amassing in Lima. God knew why. So Brittany's vacation from spy life suddenly became one of the most important missions she'd ever undertaken. She had been able to handle it alone…until now.

As Tomlinson approached the duo, she schooled her features into the unassuming, innocent visage of a teenager. Once she was a few feet away she threw her hands into the air and screamed, "Brittany? OMG!"

Brittany recoiled from the brunette and from the intruding voice, and her eyes widened in surprise. If Tomlinson didn't know the girl better, she would think that she had actually startled her. "Sasha…" Brittany uttered slowly, glancing nervously at the brunette as she accepted the other agent's embrace, "wow…what're you doing here?"

"My parents moved. So crazy, right? Who would have thought we'd ever see each other after…"

"After last summer, yeah. Small world."

Sasha's grin grew wider as she noticed the brunette giving their still entwined hands a death glare. After a moment of silence, the brunette cleared her throat. Brittany startled and said, "Oh, right…Sasha, this is my friend Santana. Santana, this is…Sasha."

"Best friend," Santana reminded Brittany tersely as she shook Sasha's hand. She tried to grin somewhat warmly, but failed. Sasha's grin was completely real, but not at all warm.

As soon as she dropped Santana's hand she turned to Brittany and said, "So, Brit, we should talk."

"Yeah," Brittany said slowly, knowing that now that her real life was closing in some things might have to change. Santana couldn't be included in their conversations, and the more Brittany hesitated in going with Sasha the more Santana might think something was curious about the situation. Usually she would move heaven and earth to keep from hurting Santana, but it would be better in this circumstance to just act oblivious and insensitive. She turned to Santana, whose confusion and anger she could clearly see, and cheerfully said, "I'm gonna go hang with Sasha for awhile, Santana! Later!"

"Later," Santana bit out furiously.

Brittany smiled brightly, linked arms with Sasha, and led her away from her friend. Once they were out of earshot, she leaned in close and whispered, "What the FUCK are you doing here?"

"You called for backup," Sasha replied, smirking.

"I meant a squad or two DOZEN of marines! What the holy fuck is Rogers thinking? There is an army being built in this town, and they're running drugs and weapons through this school."

"Soldiers make a lot of noise, Brit." Sasha responded flippantly. "We don't. Rogers is confident in our ability to neutralize the situation with the minimal amount of collateral damage. What's the matter, babe? Can't handle being around me?"

Brittany snorted. "I wasn't the one obsessed, Sasha. We had a summer fling, and it was hot and great, and now it would be technically illegal on your part so you need to get over it."

"I'm over it." Sasha replied stiffly. She looked upset for a moment, before smirking again and lilting, "But rumor says it affected you more than a little. Suddenly you're shacking up with the brunette."

"Her name is Santana," Brittany replied fiercely.

"Like it matters," Sasha sneered.

Brittany suddenly veered off to the right and pushed Sasha into a corner. She leaned close and whispered, "It does matter. It matters to me, and it matters to the mission. If you're going to be passing yourself off as my friend, you'll have to spend time around her. We're not going to be able to take down C.H.A.R.M. this very day. You might be older than me, S, but I've been doing this a lot longer than you." She paused for a moment to look intently into Sasha's eyes, and then said in a deadly serious voice, "And if you question me, or if you toy with Santana, I will tear you the fuck apart. Do you understand me, my friend?"

Sasha was breathing heavily by this point. "Yeah," she said raggedly, "I understand."

Brittany backed away from the other agent. "I assume you got the same schedule as me?" Sasha nodded. "Alright, then we have biology. Remember my cover; don't expect me to know any of the answers."

That night they were on a recon mission, with Brittany showing Sasha all the locations associated with the guns and drugs ring. It was a relatively low-key mission, so Sasha didn't roll her eyes too much that Brittany had finally answered the tenth or so phone call from Santana.

"Santana, I'm sorry! … I really didn't mean to forget that we had plans, but what do you want me to do now? I'm already with Sasha at the movies. We're about to go in. … I can't just leave! It's not every day that an old friend moves to town. … I told you, I met her this summer in Cabo."

At that point Sasha saw a group of men leave the building, each with a suitcase in their hands. Sasha smacked Brittany on her shoulder, and gestured to them. "Gotta go, movie's starting!" Brittany said quickly, wincing as the snapped the phone shut. She threw the phone onto the dashboard. Both of the girls slunk down in their seats a little.

"Money or drugs?" Sasha wondered, nodding toward the suitcases.

"Money," Brittany answered. "Money goes out, merchandise comes in. There are more drugs and guns in this town than in most of South America. They've been stockpiling for months. That has started to slow down, though, the amount of drugs floating around school indicates that they've started selling a little of what they've horded. I called because they're about to make their move…whatever it is. Whoever they've created such a treasure trove for is going to be coming to town soon." She turned to her friend, grinning, and said fiercely, "And we're going to take them down hard."

Sasha grinned back. This was the first time since she'd arrived that she felt like she was with the same person she had come to know in the years before. It was suddenly just like old times, which went a long way to explaining why she leaned over and kissed her. Brittany, caught off guard, went with it for a moment, but quickly broke away and whispered, "Sasha, what the fuck?"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Sasha whispered back, her eyes closed, biting her lip. "Fuck!" She beat her fist against the dashboard, and then turned back to Brittany, "This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" exclaimed Brittany, turning fully to face Sasha. "How the fuck do you figure that?"

"You're the one who seduced me in the first place!"

"Seduced you? We were sharing a tent in Siberia! I was trying to stay warm!"

"Bullshit! You wanted me then, and you want me now. I want you too, Brittany. Why are you fighting this? Because of some fake relationship in your fake life? What are you going to do when you graduate, and Rogers comes to take you back to work? This life of yours has no future, Brittany, because it's not your life. That girl doesn't know the real you. I do. Only I do."

Brittany bit her lip. "Sasha…"

They were interrupted by gunfire. Bullets flew through the windshield, almost hitting both of them. One of the bullets did demolish Brittany's phone. They whipped their heads around to see some of them men with suitcases across the street firing at them. "Fuck, we've been made!"

Sasha shifted the car into drive, Brittany slammed down on the gas pedal, and they lurched forward and turned left. Sasha hung outside of the window, firing back at their attackers. She scored at least one hit. Some of the men jumped into their own vehicle to chase after them. But Brittany had been taught to evade pursuers since she was six, and lost them after only ten minutes. Still, they had seen her face…

"I can't go back to my house," she proclaimed a few minutes after they had escaped. "They might've recognized me."

"We can…go to my hotel," Sasha offered hesitantly. Brittany was silent for almost a minute. Then she nodded.

"What the fuck, Brittany?"

It was the next day. Sasha and Brittany had arrived at school separately to avoid notice, but Brittany had been confronted instantly by the furious visage of Santana Lopez. "What?" She asked innocently, trying to stay calm while faced with the anger and hurt of her best friend.

"I tried calling you like ten times last night, after you fucking hung up on me, but you never answered!"

Brittany winced, though she should have expected something like this. There was nothing to be done, however. The damage was done.

"I lost my phone," she explained. "Besides," she said flippantly, "it's not a big deal. We can go one night without talking to each other before we go to sleep."

The fury radiating off of Santana was palpable. She glared at her friend up and down. Then…her eyes widened in shock. "You're…you're wearing the same clothes you were yesterday."

Panic began rise within Brittany, though she didn't show it outwardly. "We wear our uniforms every day."

"You're wearing the same one," Santana ground out slowly. She lifted her gaze again, catching Brittany's eyes. "Did you spend the night with that bitch?"

Brittany had been taught to lie since she was three. She could fool seasoned agents, global political leaders, lovers of any gender, and any machine invented. She was flawless.

"N-no," she stammered. She winced, shocked at her slip-up. With Santana gazing into her eyes, she was as amateurish as any civilian.

Santana's eyes widened even more. The fury that had radiated from her was now replaced by an even greater amount of hurt. "You did! You slept with that slut. You, you-"

Unable to come up with an appropriate insult, Santana just reared back and slapped the girl standing in front of her. The sound reverberated in the suddenly silent hallway, and those around them froze in their tracks. All eyes were on Brittany.

Santana whirled around and began to stomp away. "Santana!" Brittany called out, following her down the hallway. "It's not what you think!"

"I've heard that one before! Fuck off!"

"I swear it's not what you think!"

Brittany reached her friend and grabbed her arm to keep her from going any further. Santana whirled around and pushed Brittany away as hard as she could, causing the other girl to stumble backward and crash to the floor. Brittany looked up at Santana in shock.

"I said leave me alone!" Santana shrieked at the supine girl. Then she turned and stormed away, leaving Brittany alone on the hallway floor.

Later in the day, Sasha and Brittany were sitting mostly in silence in the cafeteria. Brittany had been morose and silent all morning. Sasha knew exactly what was wrong – she could have figured it out from context, but also the talk of the fight between Brittany and Santana was the talk of the school -, but Brittany didn't want to talk about it and Sasha sure as hell didn't.

Across the room Santana exited the lunch line and froze for an instant at seeing Brittany and Sasha sitting together, but then set her face in determination and took a seat at an empty table.

Brittany released a heavy sigh, causing Sasha to roll her eyes. "You're really pathetic, you know that?"

Brittany didn't even try to argue. "It's not fair," she moaned. "She's technically right, but I can't even explain. I can't tell her that we got into a firefight, that my phone was shot, and that I spent the night on the floor of your hotel room. I can't even tell her half the truth without her asking all sorts of questions. Jesus, I couldn't even tell a little white lie this morning."

Brittany glanced at Sasha with a pout. Sasha snorted and shook her head, "You'll get no sympathy from me."

"That's because you're a sociopath," Brittany snapped. Sasha burst into laughter, and small smile snuck onto Brittany's face.

The small amount of good humor vanished suddenly, and she whispered, "Oh, fuck."

Sasha allowed her laugh to taper off naturally, and quietly asked, "What?"

Brittany switched to Russian as she said, "Glance outside the window."

Outside the school, across the street, was a surveillance unit that did not belong to her government. It would have been invisible to anyone but the most expert. As Sasha followed her order, Brittany snuck her own glances around the room. Suddenly she began to notice some students she had never seen before. "We're fucked," she said, again in Russian. What the fuck were they thinking, attacking the school? "We've got company inside, too. God knows what else." She said, still speaking Russian. "We need lure them out of the cafeteria."

"Yup," said Sasha, switching back to English. "C'mon, Brit-Brit, let's get some chocolate in you. That always helps when I'm depressed."

"Alright," Brittany said morosely, allowing Sasha to grasp her hand and lead her away. As soon as they were outside the lunch room, she was all business. "You get your weapons, I'll get mine. Meet me at my locker in five."

Sasha nodded brusquely and separated from her colleague. Brittany hurried to the Glee room, where her cache of weapons was located. She chose several knives and her favorite handgun, and began stashing them on her person. As she was loading up, the first wave of assassins arrived. She dispatched them easily, even without her guns.

As she left to Glee room, she made a beeline to the nearest fire alarm and pulled it. It wouldn't do to have some unsuspecting civilian discover an unconscious or dead terrorist just lying around. She discreetly made her way through the ocean of students filing out of the building.

She met up with Sasha at her locker. "It's a straight up fucking invasion," Sasha exclaimed gleefully as Brittany approached. "I met up with five already. You?"

"Four."

They leaned against the lockers and eyed the dwindling surge of students. Some of the stragglers eyed them, wondering why they weren't filing out, but none of them cared enough to stop and question them. As the crush finally ended, Brittany swatted Sasha on her shoulder and said, "Well, time to finish this thing."

They pushed themselves off the lockers and marched deeper into the building. For the next half-hour they acted in tandem; a highly trained, highly efficient killing machine. No firemen or police had entered the building to investigate the supposed fire, so Brittany had to assume that either her superiors or whoever was running C.H.A.R.M. had intervened. Just after she had snapped the neck of number fifty-seven, the intercom crackled to life.

"Would Miss Brittany Pierce please come to the Principal's office? Brittany Pierce to the principal's office." Brittany and Sasha paused, and shared equally bemused looks. Brittany shrugged.

"Briiiiittany, someone wants to talk to youuuuuu!" Brittany's eyes narrowed, and she frowned. Sasha raised her eyebrows. Then there came a second voice, one that sent chills down Brittany's spine.

"Brittany?" It was Santana. Her voice was thick with confusion and tears and fear. Sasha winced as she saw her friend's face harden and her eyes fill with a fury she had never seen. "What's going on? Who is this guy? He says…he says that if you don't give yourself up he's g-going to kill-"

She was cut off suddenly. There was a crack, followed by the sound of Santana crying out in pain, and then the first voice came back on. "The roof, five minutes. Alone."

Without saying a word Brittany began to march determinedly down the hallway. Her fists were clenched tightly, her knuckles white with tension. Sasha trotted after her. "Brittany! What the fuck do you think you're doing? You can't drop everything just because one chick is in trouble! Who knows how many of them are left down here? You don't know that he didn't kill her the second he turned off that microphone. How do you know you're not walking into a trap?"

Brittany whirled around and brought her face within inches of Sasha's. In a low, furious voice she hissed, "I don't care how many of them are left down here. I know he didn't kill her, because nobody is stupid enough to make me that furious. And there's no trap alive that can catch me. Now, what the fuck did I tell you about questioning me?"

"Don't do it?"

"Fucking right," Brittany said, bringing her hand up to cup Sasha's cheek. "I trust you, Sasha. I respect you. You're a great friend and a great agent. But I love Santana. Only she knows me. And I don't care if there are ten thousand werewolves and a fucking tank waiting for me on that roof – If I have to kill ten thousand werewolves to make sure Santana is safe, I will." With her thumb Brittany wiped away a tear that had fallen from Sasha's eye. "But there are not ten thousand werewolves, or a tank; there's just one stupid fuck. Handle the situation down here for a bit, I won't be long."

With a gentle kiss to Sasha's forehead, Brittany turned and strode away.

Santana had never been this terrified, or this confused. She could barely focus on the confusion through the terror, but she couldn't help wondering who the guy was with the gun pointed to her neck, who the other guys were downstairs who followed his orders, and how Brittany fit into the whole thing.

Thinking of Brittany had her biting back another whimper. She had been so jealous and angry the last couple of days, ever since that Sasha girl had shown up. She and Brittany seemed to share this secret connection and secret language and secret everything. Santana hated it, because that's what her relationship with Brittany was supposed to be, not some other girl's. And she had never seen Brittany so wrapped up in anyone other than herself. It was so scary to think she was losing her best friend. And when she had shown up this morning wearing the same clothes as the day before, after ditching their plans the night before, all the jealousy, the fear, the fury…it just exploded out of her. She literally was incapable of giving Brittany a chance to explain.

And the thought that those were going to be her last words, her last actions to her best friend, the person she loved most in the world, was unbearable. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and bit her lip, trying desperately to forget her present situation. 'Please let this be a dream, please let this be a dream,' she chanted over and over. It was only the sound of Brittany's voice that caused her eyes to shoot open in surprise.

For a second, she thought her ears had deceived her. The girl in front of her – no, the woman in front of her - looked exactly like her friend, though the fury on her face and the intelligence and confidence in her eyes were completely out of place, but her bearing was so different as to make her seem like an entirely different person. It was tense, coiled, and predatory.

"So, here I am."

The man tightened his grip on Santana and pressed his gun deeper into her neck, causing her to cry out. The fury in Brittany's eyes increased and she took a step forward. "Stay where you are," the man exclaimed nervously, pointing his gun towards Brittany. "Put your hands in the air!"

Brittany stopped her forward movement, and raised her hands. "Good," the man panted, "Good."

Brittany smirked, and shook her head in amusement. "You don't have a clue what you're doing, do you?"

"I'm the one with the fucking gun pointed at you, aren't I?"

Brittany flat out laughed at the man's posturing. "Christ, you're just some schmuck. This is starting to make some sense, now. I'll bet you pissed someone off recently, right? And then you get put in charge of this "mission"? They tell you what to do…or what to try to do. They tell you to take me out, right? But you have no fucking clue who I am."

Santana was flabbergasted. The man's grip on her was loosening, his skin was slick with sweat, and his breathing was frantic. He was scared. Of Brittany. "You're Brittany S. Pierce," the man sneered, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation, trying to break, even for an instant, the calm veneer of the woman opposite him. "And the person you care about most in the world is Santana Lopez, who I could kill any fucking second! So cut the fucking tough guy act, and do what I fucking say!"

Brittany clicked her tongue, her smile becoming cruel. "Yeah, you don't have any fucking idea who I am. You think I'm just some cop, or maybe a Fed. You think I'm dangerous, but not, you know, dangerous. But you start to get an idea of who I am when all your little friends stop answering their radios, when you hear screams of terror and the sounds of men choking to death on their own blood. Yeah, you start to get an inkling of what I can do. But you've still got that ace up your sleeve; you've still got my fucking girlfriend, who you've taken to try to prove to your boss that you have initiative, that you're a Big fucking Man. But all it amounts to is this. This is your grand plan: piss me off, and then actually meet me alone in an isolated place with only one viable exit point." Brittany sneered at the man in front of her. "I can see why your boss sent you on a suicide mission."

"He didn't…that's not-"

"I'm going to cut to the chase, friend: If you let her go now, I'll only kill you."

"What?" the man squeaked, the gun wavering in his hands. "Only…But-"

Brittany cut him off, saying, "There's no scenario where you live for longer than five minutes from right this second. If you let her go now you die peacefully and quickly. If you get stubborn, though, if you make me do something interesting that puts her in even one iota more danger than she's in right now, then…well…" She grinned. "I don't like to be dramatic, so I'll leave it to your imagination."

There was a moment of silence. Santana had never been more shocked in her life. Finally the man, with a small whimper, raised his gun-wielding hand in the air.

"You're a coward piece of shit," Brittany said in disgust. "Now, let her go, place the gun on the ground, get on your knees, and place your hands behind your head."

As soon as the arm around her throat was loosened slightly she slipped away and raced across the roof to where Brittany was standing. "Brittany! Oh God, oh Christ, oh fuck, oh my God." She wrapped both arms around Brittany as hard as she could, and pressed every available inch of her body as closely to Brittany as she could. She clung to Brittany, the way she used to cling to her father or mother as a small child when she had a nightmare or after she got lost in Wal-Mart. She could barely put a rational thought together so overwhelmed was she by the fear, happiness, and gratitude she felt. Brittany turned her head to face Santana, and placed her lips to Santana's forehead, whispering comforting sounds directly to her skin. She wrapped one arm around Santana's body, pressing her even closer still.

Almost as an afterthought, without turning her head, Brittany reached behind her and drew the gun she had in the waistband of her pants, and she shot the man through the forehead. With that done, she threw the weapon to the ground and wrapped her other arm around Santana. "It's alright, baby," she whispered, peppering Santana's tear-soaked face with kisses. "It's over now. You're safe. I love you so much, Santana. I'm never going to let anything bad happen to you, I swear it."

Epilogue

Two days later Brittany and Sasha stood in front of a screen featuring the image of General Ryan Rogers. "You blew up the school?" He asked incredulously.

"Only part of it," Brittany replied flippantly.

"Grenades are explosive. Who knew?" Chirped Sasha, grinning at Brittany.

General Rogers raised an eyebrow and asked, "And you found it necessary to use a grenade?"

"Weeeeell," responded Sasha, drawing out the word, "not necessary, exactly. But I was getting so fucking bored taking them out one or two at a time, General. You can't deny a girl a little variety in her carnage."

Rogers allowed a small smile to play at the corner of his mouth, before moving on to the next to the next item. "And you secured the enemy warehouses?"

"What was left. They were mostly cleaned out. Looks like we spooked them, General."

Rogers frowned. "That's not necessarily a good thing. We have no idea where they might go now."

Brittany shrugged. "Wherever they go, they still have to rebuild. More guns, more drugs, more space, more connections…it'll take awhile. I'm sure you'll find them, sir."

"Yes," responded the General absently. He was silent for a moment, before shaking his head and stating, "Well, that leaves only the matter of one Santana Lopez."

"Sir?"

"She knows your secret, Brittany. And it's clear to anyone who spends more than an hour watching you that she's the way to get to you. That's dangerous. That's the kind of dangerous we eliminate."

"No," Brittany stated firmly. "Absolutely not."

"Brittany…"

Brittany stood straighter and said, "Sir, I am proud to serve my country. I love being an agent. I love being your agent. You're like a father to me. But, and I'm stating this as delicately as I can, I will never allow you to harm that girl. Do you understand?"

They stared each other down, mentor and protégé, pseudo father and pseudo daughter, each with faces as blank as stone. Silence stretched into the minutes. It was Sasha who finally broke it. "Listen, sir…I understand your trepidation. But it's not exactly uncommon for agents to date, even get married. Thus far, Brittany's relationship with Santana has caused no unfortunate consequences. It would be hasty to make a decision at this point."

Sasha glanced at the blonde beside her to find that Brittany was smiling warmly at her. She grinned back. The General cleared his throat, and said, "Fine. For now, the situation will be allowed to continue."

Brittany opened her mouth to argue, but Sasha placed a hand on her shoulder and said warningly, "Brittany…"

Brittany's mouth snapped shut. She didn't look ecstatic, but she cleared her throat and said, "Thank you, general. I promise you that this won't affect my work."

"See that it doesn't," the general stated gruffly. He quickly cut off their connection, leaving the two girls standing alone in a silent room.

Brittany took Sasha's hand in hers, and lifted it to her lips. "Thank you," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I know that wasn't easy for you."

Sasha smiled in return, but extracted her hand from Brittany's grasp. "It was easier that you might think. I had a sort of epiphany while I was knee-deep in bodies, covered in blood and gore, having been abandoned by my partner so she could go make out on the roof…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...get to the point."

"I realized that as much as I love grenades, they're only something that I can handle every once in awhile. They're too powerful, too explosive, too unpredictable."

Brittany smirked. "And I'm the grenade in this scenario?"

"Yeah," Sasha sighed. "I'm used to being the mysterious, exciting one in a relationship. I like it. I like being in charge and keeping my partners on their toes." She bit her lip and looked at Brittany through her eyelashes, "Losing control is fun for awhile, but eventually I need a solid, steady knife or gun in my hands."

Brittany clapped her on the shoulder and said, "Well, I think you meandered away from your metaphor for a bit, but I understand what you're saying." She wrapped her arm around Sasha's shoulders and they began making their way out of the room. "One day you'll find someone for you, Sasha. Someone who is your equal, who you can amaze and be amazed by, who gets and accepts you and all your weirdness and sociopathy-"

"I'm not a sociopath!"

"And, if you can convince Rogers that he or she isn't a security risk who needs to be killed, you can live happily ever after."

"You know, you sound like you're being all nice, but really you're just rubbing it in my face that that's already happened for you."

Brittany grinned.

"Two minutes ago you were convinced I was in love with you! I bet you still would've done this."

Brittany snorted.

"You're the sociopath!"

Brittany laughed. Sasha followed suit, and soon their laughter was echoing throughout the halls.

The End

A/N2: Holy shit! This is easily the longest fic I've ever written, and I did it all in two nights. This seriously came out of nowhere. The initial idea was a short crack!fic about the ridiculousness of SecretAgent!Brittany having to fend off assassins while trying to maintain the façade of a normal day. Then Sasha shoved her way into the story, and Badass!Brittany came sharply into focus, and suddenly they had such a good dynamic that I had to be careful not to make the story a pure Brittany/Sasha fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!