infligere: (Concentrate)
Brock Rumlow ([personal profile] infligere) wrote in [community profile] spaces_between 2015-01-14 02:42 am (UTC)

It amused him to no end that Steve Rogers, the Great and Fabled Captain America, was the biggest 90-year-old virgin. He actually didn't know (nor did he care) if his Captain was rubbing balls on anyone else, but the way that Steve acted was so very much like one of those awkward kids in school who had no idea how to take a compliment. He supposed that growing up a skinny little shit wouldn't boost one's confidence and Rogers was painfully modest.

Sometimes he wanted to whack his knuckles on the other man's nose until it bled in response to that kind of good-natured modesty.

He neatly set his harnesses and belts inside, shucking his clothing to form a pile at his feet due to its desperate need to be laundered. He glanced over at the comment about medical, not that it was necessary. He took stock in the injuries of his men before they even stepped off the quinjet.

"Rollins, make sure the three stooges get to medical," he called to his second. Rollins was always first into the locker room, first to the showers and first out. He was always last, and that's the way he liked it. Together they managed their team well and easily, and it was oh so a pleasure when Steve was apart of all this manly camaraderie. "None of them are serious to deny a man a shower first. The medical staff will appreciate it too."

He tugged off his grey undershirt, revealing a long scrape down the side of his ribs. "You know, the rest of us look like we crawled out of a Manhattan dumpster, so how the hell do you remain shiny somehow?"

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