Kismet

(written by forcryinoutloud)

He should have known better, should have refused the moment he saw the blonde hair and blue eyes. At least if he had refused Betty wouldn't be barely hanging on back in the lab, and he wouldn't be sitting on a stool in some run down old bar nursing his own wounds after said blonde hair and blue eyes walked out of his life and back to her own sandy beaches, crystal clear blue water and annoyingly talented dolphins.

"Give me another." Nodding his thanks as the bartender set another beer before him, he glanced around the room. Drunken cowboy wannabes on the left, slumming yuppies on the right and not a pretty face in sight. Downing half the beer in one swallow, Emmett rose and walked towards one of the booths at the back, slouching into the squeaky red faux leather seats and ignoring the way his boots stuck to the floor.

He squinted against the bright light from outside as the door opened and a pretty blonde stepped inside, adjusting the strap on her high heeled shoes and showing way too much cleavage. She was actually exactly the type he normally went for--until Monica, she'd managed to ruin all future blondes for him. He grunted in disgust when yuppie number three, black suit, white shirt, tie pulled loose, wandered over to her, whispering in her ear and placing a hand at her back. She giggled and followed him to the bar, proving just how bad her taste in men was.

Letting his eyes wander to the TV above the bar he zoned out, nursing his beer and ignoring everyone around him. A half hour later, beer warming in the bottle on the table, the evening crowd of losers wandering in, his eyes caught sight of a pretty brunette walking in with a smirk. "You can't blame me for the car running out of gas, Brendan."

"I'm not!" Emmett's eyes roved over the suit following the brunette in. He was lean, with wild hair and a cocky tilt to his head--Emmett supposed some might call him good looking.

"Brendan," the brunette drawled, amusement and a little frustration coloring her voice, "this is me you're attempting to lie to."

'Brendan' rolled his eyes, "I seem to recall a conversation about you not doing--your thing on me, Freya." She laughed and walked towards the bar, asking for the payphone and slipping towards the back room where the pool tables were. Emmett watched Brendan's assessing eyes as he looked around the bar, swallowing thickly when his gaze stopped on him.

Okay, Emmett thought as he tilted the bottle towards his lips, maybe he might fall under the category of those who found the man pleasing to the eye. That didn't mean he was at all interested--he'd had enough disappointment relationship wise for a while. Nope, the only thing that mattered now was Betty getting better and him continuing his work.

Sighing as he waited for Freya to return, Brendan took in the defeated faces around him. This wasn't exactly a classy bar and he figured he'd be hard pressed to find anyone that wasn't either a drunk looking for cheap booze or a yuppie slumming and looking for an easy lay before returning to their perfect little suburban lives.

His eyes landed on a rather scruffy looking man, hair in disarray, tight shirt showing a well defined body, crooked mouth turned down. Normally he wouldn't have given him a second glance, but despite his outward appearance the man just didn't seem to fit in with the people hunkering in around them for a night of bad music, bad booze and cheap dates.

Freya returned with a smile, snagging Brendan's arm and pulling him towards the bar. "Someone's going to pick up the car and then us. Come on, we have time for a drink."

"We're on duty, Freya," Brendan groaned as he looked down, grimacing when his new shoes stuck to the floor. "This place is disgusting."

"Michael gave us the rest of the day off," Freya answered, cheerfully ignoring Brendan's complaining.

"What'll you have?" Brendan looked up into the face of a very large, very tattooed man.

"Uh, give me a beer."

The bartender grunted an acknowledgement and turned to Freya. "And you?"

"White wine, please..."

"This ain't some fancy bar, lady--you have your choice of beer--in a bottle or in a glass."

Giving the man an assessing look Freya shrugged, "Bottle." Turning to Brendan she narrowed her eyes. "It wasn't my fault."

"You were the one that went joy riding this morning," Brendan raised an eyebrow and nodded at the bartender as he reached for the beer placed in front of him. "All I'm saying--or not as the case may be--is that if you're going to take my car without asking, the least you could do is put gas in it before you bring it back."

"And if you had just asked June for your cell phone back we wouldn't have had to walk for forty minutes to find a phone."

Brendan scowled. "We are not talking about your sister."

"Look, I know things didn't exactly end that well between you but really, Brendan...it is your cell phone."

"I can get another one."

"It's been a week," Freya answered with a laugh.

"I just haven't had time--besides, where's yours?" Brendan took another mouthful of beer, spinning on the stool so he was leaning with his back against the bar, watching the crowd and letting his eyes wander back to the man in the back booth. "You could have saved us the walk if you hadn't lost another cell phone."

"I didn't lose it," Freya grinned, swiveling her own stool, "it's just--misplaced."

Emmett glanced down at his cell phone, muttering quietly to himself when Monica's number came up before shoving it back in his pocket. He really didn't need to hear, yet again, how important her work was and how he kept blaming her for Betty getting hurt. He didn't blame her--well not entirely.

Sliding from the booth he walked towards the bar, watching 'Brendan' from the corner of his eyes as he ordered another beer. The woman he was with was pretty enough, and she seemed intelligent as their conversation, from what Emmett could tell, was not based solely on Brendan whispering sweet nothings in her ear while she giggled like a half wit.

Brendan caught Emmett staring and raised an eyebrow in what Emmett supposed was the universal sign for 'she's with me'. Turning back to the beer in hand he gave himself another pep talk--he was perfectly happy spending most of his time at the lab, with Betty, working on his anti-venom. He didn't need pretty blondes or rakish brunettes.

Freya glanced to her left, seeing the disheveled man that Brendan was so subtly checking out. "He's hot."

"Excuse me?"

"Huh--he thinks we're dating. He also apparently thinks you're rakish." She was smirking at him, her eyes sparkling in amusement. "Maybe you should go over and set him straight," she snickered.

Brendan scowled, taking a swig of his lukewarm beer and picking at the label. "Stick to the mind reading gig--funny you are not."

"Well, Yoda, if you aren't interested--" she rolled her eyes, "which in case you've forgotten...again, you can't hide from me."

"As you seem so intent on forgetting that I don't want you inside my head," Brendan hissed. "Worry about your own love life and leave me to mine."

"Well I would--if you didn't keep fucking things up."

Brendan pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding from the stool to stand in front of Freya. "I'm serious, Freya--butt out." He stalked away towards the washrooms, needing a moment to clear his head.

Freya shook her head at Brendan's retreating back and slid off her own stool, taking a few steps closer to the man at the other end of the bar. "Hi."

"No thanks," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, Miss...I'm sure you're a very lovely person but I have recently been dumped by possibly the hottest woman I've ever dated and I'm not looking for another relationship just yet--thanks anyway."

Freya snorted as she slid onto the stool beside him. "My name is Freya--and no offense but you're not really my type."

He narrowed his eyes before sighing and sticking out his hand. "Emmett."

"Nice to meet you, Emmett," Freya grinned widely, shaking his hand and waving to the bartender for another beer. A couple minutes later Freya broke the silence. "She wasn't your type."

"What?" Emmett frowned. "Who wasn't?"

"The woman that dumped you..."

"And how would you know?"

Freya shrugged. "I just do."

Emmett shook his head and rolled the bottle of beer between his hands. "She was totally my type--blonde, blue eyes, beautiful--everything I look for in a woman."

"You need to get out more," she laughed. "You're definitely more a brunette type."

"Brunette?" Emmett's gaze rose to Freya's hair, before returning to look her in the eye.

Freya rolled her eyes. "Still not my type. I didn't mean me."

"Uh huh," Emmett took another sip of his beer, popping a couple peanuts into his mouth. "So you're what--Dear Abby?"

Freya just smirked and turned to see Brendan walking from the washrooms, his eyes narrowed. Emmett turned, saw him walking towards them and huffed a small laugh, "Your boyfriend looks pissed."

"Oh he isn't my boyfriend," Freya said, waving Brendan over. "Emmett, Brendan--Brendan, Emmett." She tried very hard not to laugh as Brendan's thoughts were all but screaming 'I am so going to kill you!'

Emmett and Brendan shook hands and Freya smiled to herself as Emmett's thoughts overpowered Brendan's constant mantra of 'dead dead dead'. "If you'll both excuse me, I think I'm going to go to the little girl's room." She winked as she stepped past Brendan and his 'dead dead dead' had become 'so so dead' as he watched her leave.

Sliding into the seat Freya had just vacated, he ordered another drink and stared at the bar, acutely aware of the heat coming from the man beside him.

"So," Emmett started, "she seems nice."

"You're not her type," Brendan responded immediately.

Emmett's mouth curved down into a frown. "You know, she said the same thing--a guy could start to get a complex around you two."

Brendan looked a little flustered. "There's nothing wrong with you--you're just--she's..."

"Not my type, yeah I got that, thanks," Emmett scowled.

Clearing his throat, Brendan started, "So, you come here often?" Oh great, Brendan, he thought--nothing like being subtle.

Emmett turned, eyebrows raised. "Are you hitting on me?"

"Uh," Brendan flushed, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips again, averting his eyes. Swallowing, he took a deep breath before turning back. "Yes?"

"Huh," Emmett reached for his beer again, looking up at the TV above the bar.

"Look if you aren't interested that's fine--" Brendan said as nonchalantly as possible given the fact that his heart was pounding. What the hell was he thinking? He never picked up strangers in a bar--and definitely not men! Sure there were the anonymous blowjobs in a club here and there over the years...

Emmett turned to him with a crooked smile. "You're kidding, right?"

"Huh?" Brendan answered in confusion.

Rolling his eyes Emmett glanced behind him. "Is Freya coming back?"
Thrown by the change in topic Brendan turned to the washrooms. "Uh--it's doubtful. She's probably hiding."

"Hiding?"

Brendan waved his hand dismissively. "She's playing matchmaker."

"Ah," Emmett nodded and finished off his beer, sliding from the stool and walking towards the front door.

Frowning Brendan watched him go muttering, "Well that was rude," before finishing off his own beer. A tap on his shoulder made him turn.

"Are you finished? Yes, good, let's go." Not waiting for an answer Emmett snagged Brendan's arm, pulling him from the stool and towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere less--here."

Nodding Brendan let himself be dragged towards a black, '65 Charger. "Nice car."

Unlocking the door and walking around to the driver's side Emmett pointed. "Get in."

"So where are we going?"

"My lab."

"Lab?"

"I'm a herpetologist," Emmett explained as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Ah--I'm with the NSA," Brendan replied conversationally, watching the town zip by.

Emmett's brakes squealed as he jerked the car to a stop on the side of the road. "NSA! Are you seducing me to get to Betty?" he demanded.

Brendan's knuckles were white on the seat. "Are you crazy?"

"Answer the question!"

"Who's Betty?" Brendan snapped.

"My snake!"

"Uh--"

"I knew it! You're trying to get my snake!"

Brendan stifled a laugh, grinning when Emmett scowled. "You're right."

"What?"

Leaning over into Emmett's personal space, Brendan slid a hand along Emmett's thigh, murmuring against his lips, "I am trying to get your snake."

Emmett groaned when Brendan cupped his erection, grabbing the back of Brendan's head and pulling him into a fast, messy kiss. Pulling back he panted, "Yes, yes very funny."

Brendan smirked as he sat back. "Now that you know my intentions--can we go?"

Emmett nodded, tires squealing as he pulled back onto the highway, speeding towards his lab. When they got there he jumped from the car, ushering Brendan towards the door. There were advantages to having your own lab.

"Wow," Brendan looked around the lab, bending to peer in one of the enclosures. "Cool. Which one is Betty?"

"She's in the back," Emmett replied, pulling off his shoes. "She's recovering."

"Is she going to be okay?" Emmett smiled at the look of sincere concern on Brendan's face.

"She's going to be fine."

Brendan grinned as Emmett pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it in a corner. "In a hurry?" Emmett ignored him, instead reaching out and snagging the waist of Brendan's pants and pulling him closer. "Okay yeah, here let me help." Brendan gasped when he felt Emmett's fingers skim his exposed skin, making quick work of the rest of their clothes until they both stood naked and panting, "Where?"

Emmett grabbed Brendan's wrist and led him to a side office where there was a rumpled cot in the corner.

"Nice place you've got here."

"Shut up, shut up," Emmett muttered as he pushed a laughing Brendan onto the cot, throwing a leg over his thighs so he could straddle him.

"Okay," Brendan agreed, eyes fluttering closed when Emmett settled his weight; putting pressure in all the right places. His hands slid up Emmett's thighs to his waist, fingers digging in when Emmett leaned down, trailing his lips from Brendan's shoulder to his neck. "I don't usually do this."

"Me either," Emmett muttered into Brendan's skin, tongue slipping out to trace a circle around his hardening nipple.

Brendan arched up, hands curling around Emmett's back to pull him closer. Emmett shifted so that he was between Brendan's legs, hooking a hand under Brendan's thigh and lifting until they were aligned perfectly before he began to thrust lazily against him, tongue gliding over Brendan's, dueling for control of the kiss.

Wrapping his legs around Emmett, and grinding up against him, Brendan panted against his mouth, "Fuck me." He could feel Emmett's cock twitch against his own, grinning when Emmett buried his face in the crook of his neck.

"Okay, yes good, okay," he mumbled before sliding a hand under his pillow for the lube.
Brendan bit his bottom lip, head thrown back when Emmett slipped a finger inside. "Do you always have lube lying around in your l--?"

Emmett grinned when Brendan's voice gave out as he slid a second finger in, curling them to graze Brendan's prostate. "Do you really want to talk about my solitary sexual activities now?"

Brendan's hands clenched and unclenched the thin white sheets on the cot, shaking his head from side to side. "No--no I want you--to get on with it!" Grinding down onto Emmett's fingers Brendan opened his eyes, watching as the man tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth and groaning when he pulled his fingers away to roll the condom on his leaking cock.

"Patience," Emmett teased, but Brendan could tell from the whimper when he slid the condom on that he was close.

"Fuck patience--better yet, fuck me," Brendan ground out as he wrapped his fingers around his own aching flesh.

Emmett moaned as he watched Brendan fucking his own fist before grabbing the man's hips and pulling him into position. "Lift up." Sliding a pillow under Brendan, Emmett lined his cock up, pushing slowly until the head breached the tight ring of muscle with an inaudible pop.

He took a deep breath, trying to hold still to let Brendan adjust when he felt the man's legs wrap around his waist again and pull him forward in a quick jerk that had him buried as far as he could go. "Fuck!" Brendan clenched his ass, grinning at the moan it elicited.

Panting, he pulled Emmett into a wet, sloppy kiss, and ground down. "Move!"

Emmett pulled out slowly before thrusting back in just as slowly, grinning smugly at Brendan's low growl. He quickened his thrusts until the cot was rocking with them, squeaking in time to the slap of flesh on flesh. Reaching between them Emmett curled his fingers around Brendan's cock, stroking in counterpoint to his thrusts until Brendan was throwing his head back, neck glistening with sweat, and coming over Emmett's hand and stomach. Four more quick thrusts and Emmett was stilling, following Brendan into orgasm with a gasp.

Discarding the condom Emmett collapsed beside Brendan, leg thrown over Brendan's thighs, arm curled around his waist. "Wow."

"Yeah," Brendan agreed, still panting, hand stroking over Emmett's thigh, "definitely yeah." Turning his head, Brendan grinned at Emmett, leaning in for a kiss before pulling back and twining his fingers with Emmett's. "Freya's going to be impossible after this."

Epilogue

(written by layton colt)

Freya grinned as she approached Brendan's desk. He was collapsed over the surface, his head pillowed on his arms, and he was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the last time she had seen him. Flashes like pieces of film snapped behind her eyes as she got closer; stubble rubbing against his neck, kisses down the length of him, a slow slide and steady rhythm.

She smirked as she looked down at him. That photographic memory thing was a kick. "Wow," she said, "that was some night you had."

Brendan shot up from his desk, eyes wide. "Wha--?"

Freya smiled at him prettily. "Am I going to get a thank you card for this or what?"

His eyes narrowed. "Get out of my head," he said.

She laughed, undaunted. "So are you seeing Emmett again?"

"That's none of your business," he said, pulling at his tie agitatedly and giving her a quick little smirk.

"He's taking you to Mario's?" Freya said eyes wide. "I hope you make him get you the lobster."

"I could easily hate you," he said.

Freya grinned. "You love me, I know you love me; and I also know that I'm responsible for the best sex of your life."

Brendan made an irritated face. "Could you maybe keep your voice down? And Emmett's responsible for the best sex of my life, not you, thank you very much."

"Well, yeah, but you never would have made a move without me," she said. "You have it bad for him, don't you?"

"No," Brendan said resignedly. Lying to Freya was just a reflex.

Freya grinned, and then crossed her arms. "So it isn't serious then?"

Brendan watched her warily; uncertain what trap she was leading him into now. "That's right. It was a one-night stand...well, a one-night stand with dinner the next day. That's all."

"Then he just walked through the doors because...?"

Brendan's eyes widened and he spun around. Emmett waved brightly and jogged over. "Do you know what you have to do to get a guest pass for this place?" he said. "I know you said to wait in the parking lot, but it started raining--"

"It's not seven yet," Brendan said, trying to stand between Freya and Emmett and block his thoughts from her with some rather colorful language he was thinking rather loudly.

Freya winced. "Watch your language," she said, and Emmett threw her a confused, semi-recognition filled glance before looking back at Brendan.

"It's your day off, right?" Emmett said. "I thought you only came here to tie a few loose ends. I figured you'd be done and I want to get there early."

"You should go, Brendan," Freya said sweetly. "I can finish this up. You looked a little too worn out to get all that much done anyway."

"Oh, hey," Emmett said, thrusting his hand out awkwardly to shake hers in greeting. Freya could tell he was trying to remember her name and bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"You clean up nice," she said, looking him up and down. He was wearing slacks and a button up cream shirt with a blue blazer--and he'd shaved. "But I kind of miss that whole scruffy look you had going on. There was stubble."

Brendan glared at her, and grabbed Emmett by the shoulders to point him in the direction of the door. "We're leaving," he said, "goodbye, Freya."

Freya snagged Brendan's arm to pull him back to her for a moment, and leaned into his ear. "You're in for a treat," she whispered, flashing him a wicked grin. "He's got all kinds of plans for you."