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[breaganweekbabeee]

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[reagans-malewife]

Breagan Week 2023 | Masterlist

Works: 5 Total word count: 4,858 Completion status: In progress

Also on Ao3

Day 1: Karaoke night + misplaced clone goo

Escape After their first week in their new positions, a night at the karaoke bar seems to be the perfect way for Brett and Reagan to unwind. Word count: 1,297

Day 2: Broken inventions + human touch

Broken Even from shadow prison, Rand still messes up. Word count: 707

Day 3: Video cassette + green glows

Better Their night after the events in Still Valley. Word count: 753

Day 4: A torn dress + dry blood

Friday Night Some missions just aren't meant for dresses. Word count: 1,462

Day 5: Puppets + a homemade gift

#1 BOSS (+ MORE) Reagan's favourite gift. Word count: 664

Day 6: Sweet nothings + warm drinks

Perfection Brett and Reagan keeping warm on a snowy day. Word count: 651

Day 7: Old case files + new beginnings

Nothing here yet...

@breaganweekbabeee

[reagans-malewife]

Better

Content warnings: They're showering together, but it's 100% SFW Relationships: Brett x Reagan A/N: Written for day 3 of @breaganweekbabeee Prompt: Video cassette + green glows Word count: 733 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Summary: Their whole night after the events in Still Valley.

Also on Ao3!

Even with the sound of the water hitting the tile, Brett could hear the door squeak open, clothes falling to the floor, and the curtain being pulled open, but he still let out a soft breath of relief when he heard Reagan hum, "showering all by yourself, handsome?"

Brett couldn't stop himself from giggling as he turned around to face her. "Not anymore." He brought a hand up to gently cradle her chin as he placed a chaste kiss to Reagan's lips.

"Feeling any better?" She asked, to which Brett nodded. Sure, the residual guilt of everything that had happened still weighed on his shoulders- he did nearly kill his best friends, after all- but it was nothing compared to the feeling he'd had on the ride back from Still Valley. God, that had been tense. Nobody wanted to say anything, still too exhausted or tired to speak, but Brett had a million things he wanted to say. Whenever he'd opened his mouth, though, the only thing that would come out was, "sorry."

Brett sighed softly and closed his eyes, letting the warm water run over himself again. "Yeah," he whispered, "this helps."

She watched him for a moment, smiling when an idea came to her mind. "You haven't washed your hair yet, have you?" she wondered.

"Nope."

"Turn around."

With the gentle push of her hand on his shoulder, Brett did as she said, now facing away from her. The unmistakable sound of the shampoo bottle clicking open echoed around the shower, then Reagan had her hands in his hair. "Why do you have to be so damn tall?" She asked with a chuckle. Brett laughed around with her, and smiled in return. Reagan's fingers worked their way into his hair, fighting the excessive amount of hair spray he'd used to keep it back as she gently massaged his scalp. Brett was quick to relax into her touch, sighing as she continued to wash out his hair.

Eventually, she had to pull her hands away to add some more product. "Holy shit," she murmured, observing her palms, before glancing up to Brett's hair. "Brett, I think you took a bit of the Nostalgia Max with you," she teased, laughing at the utterly shocked look on Brett's face when he turned around. Lo and behold, her hands were glowing bright green, making Brett's breath catch in his throat.

"I don't wanna see that stuff ever again," he declared, turning back around, her continued laughter just hitting his back.

"You won't," she assured him, "but not until I finish washing out these luscious locks of yours." Brett chuckled at the compliment and closed his eyes, humming softly when her fingers worked into his hair again.

Thankfully, getting all the chemicals out of Brett's hair wasn't too much of a process. After a few good rinses, it was gone, the green glow no more. Brett had gotten out of the shower, leaving her when she insisted on washing her own hair- really, it was because Reagan didn't want her boyfriend to see that she was still using that shitty 3-in-1 stuff that she couldn't bear to part with. By the time Reagan was finished, Brett was dressed in a hoodie and pair of boxers, his hair wrapped up in a towel.

"Now I must ask," Brett hummed, loud enough for her to hear him from the living room, "what was your idea?"

Though he couldn't see it, Reagan tilted her head with confusion. "Huh?"

"In Still Valley," Brett began to clarify, "you said you had an idea. I doubt it was helping me get all of that gunk out of my hair."

She laughed, telling him that she'd show him in a minute. When Reagan returned to the living room, she was dressed in her pyjamas, and she held her hand behind her back. Brett eagerly watched her. She then pulled her hand out, revealing a tape of The Goonies. "Tada!" His face lit up with excitement, his smile wide, before patting the spot on the couch next to him. "Get over here," he called. Once the tape was in and rolling, Reagan finally joined him on the couch, and Brett wrapped his arms around her, placing a soft kiss against her temple before she rested her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her with a content smile, humming, "now this is better."

credit to @cafekitsune for the text divider!

[reagans-malewife]

Broken

Trigger/content warnings: Swearing Relationships: Brett x Reagan A/N: Written for day 2 of @breaganweekbabeee Prompt: Broken inventions + human touch Word count: 707 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Summary: Even from shadow prison, Rand still messes up.

Also on Ao3!

Reagan glanced around the room, eyes scanning over the scattered papers, burnt drywall, and other remains of the fight today. She took a breath and stood up, her gaze stretching past her other teammates, out through the hole in the wall. After a moment, she brushed her scraped hands against her lab coat, thin streaks of red trailing in their wake, before walking towards the door.

Brett was worried, to say the least. He didn't expect her to say anything, but when he couldn't read a single emotion from her expression, it became frightening. He'd understand mad, upset, heartbroken, or even disgusted, but her eyes were calm, lips stoic, and overall, she just looked empty. He glanced around at his teammates, all who seemed too stunned to speak. Beyond that, they looked fine, so Brett darted past them, trying to catch up to Reagan’s fast stride. “Reagan?!” He called with equal parts concern and desperation. It didn’t take him long to catch up to her, but he kept his distance. She looked like she was balancing on a tightrope of her emotions, and disturbing that would be detrimental to at least one of them, and he really didn’t want to find out who.

She only stopped walking when she got to her lab, shoulders deflating as she stood still. That was when Brett tried again. “Reagan,” he nearly whispered, “are you-?” But he didn’t need to finish his sentence. One look at her was enough to tell that her world seemed to be crumbling- again. She stared up at Brett, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, and all Brett could do was look back with sympathy.

“I can’t deal with this place,” she finally said, turning away. “I have spent months- months, Brett- working on this! The machine should’ve been ready next week. That’s when the Robes are expecting it, and that’s when I planned to have it finished! But-” she couldn’t even find the words to express her exasperation over the entire situation. Brett watched as she picked up the robotic arm, studied it for a moment, then tossed it back towards the monitor, which was now fractured, fragments of the electronics scattered across the floor. “All of my code was saved internally. No way for a mole or a competing organization to steal it. The last time I backed it up-- It’ll take at least a few weeks to rewrite all of that.”

This time Reagan grabbed a robotic eyeball, the projection from it flickering and glitching obnoxiously. “I would’ve been on track if it wasn’t for my fucking father! That deadbeat, dogshit, selfish bastard always ruins everything!!” She chucked the eye towards the monitor, sending splinters and sparks flying from it. “If only he could pull his head out of his ass and see that his actions have fucking consequences! Or even just think through one thing before he does it! When has anything he’s done ever ended well? He fucked with my memory, fucked with my DNA, for God’s sake, invented this batshit robot that tried to kill everyone! And now trying to break out of shadow prison, back into a workplace that’d probably try to kill him on site?!”

She snatched a mostly-in-tact robotic leg from the ground, and suddenly, the anger in her eyes scared Brett.

“Reagan,” he said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She nearly jumped, as if she’d forgotten he was here. “Hey, sweetheart, put down the leg, okay?” Just as he’d asked, Reagan put it down, turning fully to face him. “Your dad sucks, I know, I’m sorry he does. And you don't deserve any of the shit he puts you through. But the Robes know what happened, and they should be far more than understanding. After all, it was their prison that he managed to break out of. Plus, you’re literally a genius. There’s no way you’re not going to remember how to make that, and I bet it’ll be better this time.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. Brett couldn’t stand to see her like this, so he chose not to. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, smiling gently when Reagan relaxed into his touch.

“It’s going to be okay.”

[reagans-malewife]

Escape

Trigger/content warnings: (slight) alcohol abuse Relationships: Brett x ReaganA/N: written for day 1 of @breaganweekbabeee Prompt: Karaoke night Word count: 1,297 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Summary: After their first week in their new positions, a night at the karaoke bar seems to be the perfect way for Brett and Reagan to unwind.

Also on Ao3!

Reagan’s first week as being CEO was a nightmare. Reagan couldn’t have described it any other way, and neither could Brett, apparently. After her first day, the newly-lone head of the team had stopped by her office to ask her out on a celebratory date, but one look around the room killed that idea. Instead, Brett spent the night towing out bags upon bags of trash from the office that Rand had left in utter disarray while Reagan worked all night on her machine for The Robes.

They ordered takeout and took a short break from their respective tasks to simply eat and enjoy one another’s company, but stayed nearly silent. There was a soft blanket of happiness between them that felt fragile, as if it’d shatter if either of them dared to bring up the stress from their first day in their new positions. Once he’d collected all the rubbish from around the room and wiped down any surface that he was able to, Brett found himself nodding off on the now-tattered couch- after a solid three layers of disinfectant spray, that is. Reagan passed out much later than him, slaving away on her project for The Robes well into the morning. 

The second day wasn’t much better. The whole gang had a mission that got them back to the office late, and left Brett utterly exhausted and with a stack of paperwork that he’d hate himself for in the morning. Reagan’s day seemed equally as bad. When he’d stopped by to check on her, he ended up scrubbing down the walls where Rand had spray painted some real conspiracy type stuff. That night, Reagan was out much earlier, and Brett had taken the liberty of bringing her home to her apartment which, technically, only she lived in. However, with the amount of time he spent there and how much of his wardrobe had migrated into her closet, Brett considered it home, too.

The rest of the week continued in a similar fashion, each day being just slightly easier, and ending just a little sooner with the residual exhaustion from the day before. It wasn’t until Friday that they were both adequately rested and at a decent stopping place in their work. When Brett came knocking on the door to Reagan’s office, he was greeted by his energetic girlfriend who, surprisingly, actually seemed ready to go. The room, though still a bit of a fixer-upper, was in a livable condition, and she seemed content with that for the week. It was then that Brett finally didn’t feel bad about asking her to spend a night out. “Hey Reags, the rest of the gang is going out to that karaoke bar tonight- I was wondering if you’d like to come with us?” It was the first conversation he’d had with her this week that wasn’t work related (with the exception of Reagan asking how his dogs were doing), and honestly, it was strange, but in the best way possible.

“Sure, why not?” She answered with a shrug. Reagan returned to her desk to grab her laptop and shut off the lamp before walking out the door, placing a kiss against Brett’s cheek when she passed him. He didn’t follow her, and when she turned back to check on him, his cheeks were lit up with a soft blush and he had that dreamy look in his eyes that she always loved to see. “Come on, loverboy,” she finally said, taking his hand to bring him back to reality.

When they arrived at the bar, drinks were the first thing on both of their minds. The rest of the team seemed shocked when Reagan and Brett went for gin and tonic and long island ice tea, respectively, rather than something light, at least to start. For Brett, he just needed to unwind, and Reagan? This was the first drink she’d touched all week, and every night had warranted drowning her troubles in booze. It didn’t take long for them to teeter on the blurry line between tipsiness and drunkenness, which was quite amusing for everyone, really.

“Reagaaaaaan,” Brett hummed, sprawling his upper body over the table in order to reach his girlfriend’s hands, “come sing with me.”

Reagan’s eyebrows raised as she simply looked at Brett in pure confusion, before bursting out in a fit of giggles. “C’mon. Me? Sing? You wish.” She dropped one of his hands in order to wave it ever so slightly. Her boyfriend, who had laughed along at first, was genuinely pouting now.

“But Reagan,” he whined, pulling out the puppy dog eyes. “Just listen. Glen’ll singing God Bless America… Again.” He wearily glanced at the stage, where a still-sober Glen stood. After giving a forced thumbs up, he looked back at Reagan with a strong frown. “Come on. I’t have to erase my memory if I have to listen to this one more time.”

She looked between him and the stage, before smiling faintly. “Fine. But it’s just so you don’t have to turn that pretty brain of yours to mush.”

His smile lit up again, but then a look of confusion washed over him. “Wait- what?”

“Don’t worry about it, sweet, sweet Brett. Just go,” she shooed him off towards the KJ to go save their spot. He was about halfway across the room when he realized that he’d never asked Reagan about the song, but he decided he was too far in to turn around and ask her now.

Of course, it came as a total surprise to her when the KJ announced, “And up now, we have Reagan and Brett singing Escape.” He passed Brett the microphone when Reagan seemed frozen still.

“What the hell?” She nearly hissed, to which Brett only gave a guilty look.

“I didn’t know what you wanted! But hey! It’s a good song!” He rushed, not wanting to miss the first words.

“You’ve listened to the lyrics, right? It’s not exactly romance mat-”

She was cut off by Brett awkwardly shoving the microphone in front of her to sing the first few lines.

When the chorus came, she passed the microphone to Brett, who enthusiastically belted out the words. Reagan just watched him, a fond smile forming when she saw how much he was enjoying it. She then glanced out to the small audience, most of them her co-workers, then back to her boyfriend. With a soft breath, she shut her eyes, dancing along with Brett during the instrumental. He continued the next verse, though Reagan was more than happy to take over at the chorus. Brett moved with the beat, eyes glued to her, full of awe. Come the next verse, they attempted to share the microphone, and by the chorus, they were absolutely rocking it.

“That you like pina coladas! And gettin' caught in the rain,” they sang together.

“And the feel of the ocean. And the taste of champagne.” Reagan glanced into Brett’s eyes. He was her whole world, and she was trying to let herself be okay with that again.

She could tell the absolute love and admiration he had for her as they sang, “If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes on the cape.”

It was when they sang, “you're the lady I've looked for. Come with me and escape,” that Brett finally looked back at her, his smile saying more than his words needed too.

He gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear when the final chorus came, the song not seeming to matter to him anymore. It didn’t matter to Reagan either. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and suddenly everything else seemed to fade away, including the cheering audience when she finally pulled him close enough for a kiss.

[reagans-malewife]

#1 BOSS (+ MORE)

Relationships: Brett x Reagan A/N: Written for day 5 of @breaganweekbabeee Prompt: Puppets + homemade gifts Word count: 664 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 Summary: Reagan's favourite gift.

Also on Ao3!

Reagan checked her phone: “10:18, No new notifications.” It was the team's first official mission without her, and Brett's second time being the head of the team alone. She had faith in him, but was still worried out of her mind; Brett knew how much she had going on, she'd dumped it all on his shoulders just last night, so if something bad happened, would he actually let her know?

That thought scared her, sure, but it was nice to have the day's work completed and not have to worry about a thing. She was already ahead in her work on the machine for the robes, so much so that she could afford to take a night off. She glanced over to the box that sat on the shelf, just a few steps away from her barren desk. It held everything she’d felt was necessary to move over to her new office, which was mostly an assortment of notebooks, files, and writing utensils. The files all got stored in the appropriate cabinet, notebooks on the proper shelf, but she paused when she got to her mug full of pens and pencils. She smiled as she looked at it, remembering the three times Brett had given it to her.

The first time had been just after his first week in the company. It was basic, a white mug that read "#1 BOSS" the front (and "Hand painted by Brett" on the bottom), but Reagan appreciated the gesture. Brett would probably be the only one to think that, anyway. She’d thanked him at the time, then kindly brushed him off so she could get back to her work.

A few weeks later, Brett had sheepishly asked for the mug back. She didn’t know why he’d want that, but she didn’t question it. She simply dumped the pens out on her desk, then gave it to him.

It hadn’t been any more than a few days when Brett came knocking on Reagan’s office door with one hand behind his back, and she happily let him in. She didn’t have to wonder what he was holding for long, because after saying their good mornings, Brett revealed the mug again. It was the same one, but when she looked at it closer, she noticed the small addition of “+ BFF” next to “BOSS”. That time, she smiled, thanked him, and was quite receptive when he pulled her into a hug. He lingered around to chat with her before he realized he had to return to his responsibilities. That was the only time she’d heard Brett complain about something before, when he’d had to leave her to return to his work.

A few months passed until she really thought about the mug again. The night before, she’d been smiling wider than she had since god knows when, happily nodding when Brett had asked her out. Now, she was in the war room, unhappiness apparent, as she interrogated her team on where the mug had gone. There were no signs of it, just pens collected where it had once been.

The next day, though, the mug was on her desk again, right where it used to be, even with all of the pencils too. Now it read, “#1 BOSS + BFF + GIRLFRIEND”. Reagan laughed when she read it, and sent Brett a text: thee heart emojis.

That was just over a year ago now.

Seeing it always made her happy, but today, she nearly cried.

Brett had helped her to rearrange her office supplies, getting it all ready for when she’d unpack it later. When she pulled it out of the box, she saw one more addition to it. Unlike the others, it was written in dry erase, and took up most of the empty space on the mug, "+ WIFE?"

She gently wiped her finger over the question mark, then smiled as she set it down. She didn't know what she'd say when he got back, but she knew she couldn't wait.

[reagans-malewife]

Perfection

Relationships: Brett x Reagan A/N: Written for day 6 of @breaganweekbabeee Prompt: Sweet nothings + warm drinks Word count: 651 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Summary: Brett and Reagan keeping warm on a snowy day.

Also on Ao3!

“Holy smokes, is it cold out there!” Brett called as he opened the door, announcing his return. He made his way into the living room to place the bags on the table, and Reagan couldn’t help but laugh at his appearance. He was all bundled up- toque, scarf, jacket, and even mittens- and absolutely covered in snow. It was adorable, to say the least. When he took off his jacket, snow fell from his shoulders, and they were both surprised by how much had accumulated in the short walk from the car to the apartment. As he shed his layers, he proclaimed, “I’ve got everything we should need for… well, however long we’ll be stuck here for.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Brett nodded tensely, wrapping his arms around himself.

Reagan couldn’t help herself from chuckling. She was still on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the same way she’d been when Brett left, with the same National Geographic nature documentary playing on the TV just behind Brett. “Cold?”

“Very.”

She stifled her laugh at the way Brett nearly wiggled around to keep warm, and instead told him, “C’mere.” Reagan opened her arms, and subsequently her blanket, to him, and Brett was more than happy to run over to her.

He mumbled an almost inaudible, “thank god,” as he wrapped his arms around her, his head resting on her chest while she re-situated the blanket. “You’re warm,” he hummed contently, letting his eyes slip closed as she ruffled his hair, just the way she knew he loved.

“I thought you were supposed to be the human furnace,” she mused, drawing a soft laugh from him.

“I’m just pre-heating,” he assured her, spurring more laughter from both of them.

“You’re such a dork, Brett.” Reagan’s sentence was punctuated with a kiss to Brett’s forehead, causing him to blush. He stayed quiet though, long enough for Reagan to have to check to see if he was asleep or not. “Still there, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, right before he let out a sigh; one that was uncharacteristically loud for him.

She glanced down at him, mildly concerned before asking, “are you alright?”

He nodded in response, a small grin turning his lips. “Mhm,” he hummed, before adding, “you just smell nice.”

Again, she chuckled at his answer, her hand resuming the way it’d been playing with his hair earlier. “You know, I think this is as close to perfect as life’s going to get.” Sure, it sounded cheesy, thinking that this domestic bliss was “as close to perfect” as possible, but maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as cliché as she thought. Brett hummed his agreement, before following with a more contemplative noise. 

Suddenly, he sprung out of her arms and made his way to the kitchen. Reagan’s brows furrowed as she contemplated following him, but Brett was quick to call, “Stay right there, Rea.”

And so she did. For about five minutes, Reagan sat on the couch, alone, listening as metal hit ceramic, liquid was poured, paper was ripped, things were stirred, and the microwave beeped. When he returned, Brett was carrying two mugs of hot cocoa, both topped with whipped cream and marshmallows. He set the drinks on the coffee table before returning to his righteous spot- which was just curling around Reagan. His head rested on her shoulder, lips placing gentle kisses along her jaw and neck, humming contently when her hand returned to his hair. “I love you, Brett,” she whispered.

Brett pulled away, absolutely beaming at her. “I love you too,” he returned softly, before catching her lips in a gentle kiss.

When they parted, Reagan asked, “can you pass me my cocoa?”, which Brett happily complied to, and reached behind himself to get both their drinks. The couple clinked their mugs together before taking a sip, which made both of them smile.

“Now this,” Brett declared, “is perfection.”