Who: Steve Rogers & Brock Rumlow
When: Pre-TWS
What: Because some sleeping dogs just need to be called 'big guy' with a wink and lewd suggestion. It may as well be Rumlow to do so.
Warnings: Rumlow being Rumlow. Shameless flirting. Maybe dirty sweaty man sex.
Rumlow was still flicking slugs off of his armour when they disembarked from the quinjet. If he ever had to go back to Loreta, Columbia, he was sleeping in the trees with the damn jaguars rather than in the tent with the slugs. Damn things made a mess of everything.
Of course, the next mess was juggling twenty-four guys in a confined locker room who all were intent on getting out of their disgusting body armour and uniforms and leaving after a quick shower. He was one of the last ones in the cramped quarters, but really, compared to the quinjet they just disembarked from, it was pretty much home sweet home. At least there was less chance of getting slugs up the trousers or leeches in ones boots. Actually... as he looked around, there was plenty of opportunity for both. Home sweet home, indeed.
He pushed members of STRIKE Echo out of his way, but he simply wiggled passed members of his own team. People were making their way to the showers, which thankfully left him room to get to his locker. Captains were on the far end, including Rogers apparently, and he had a clean line of sight as he jostled his way to his locker to start stripping off his gear. Of course, he had to go passed Captain Rogers, which was always a goddamn treat. Only man who looked that good in underwear.
"Out of the way, Jenkins," he ordered, elbowing the lesser from loitering too close to Rogers. Kid just wanted a picture every single time. "Showers because you stink," he added, sending the youngest member of his team off but without a playful shove from the other guy. Just as planned.
He stepped backwards and bumped into Steve, his right hand going backwards as if to catch himself but really, it was so he could set it right on Rogers' right ass cheek. Damn fine. He pushed off as if correcting his balance and pretended to glare at Jenkins who was now hurrying off, leaving this area relatively alone.
"Sorry about that," he said, though he didn't mean it one bit. "Nice ass, big guy," he said with a wink as he reached out to open his locker and started to shrug out of his gear.
When: Pre-TWS
What: Because some sleeping dogs just need to be called 'big guy' with a wink and lewd suggestion. It may as well be Rumlow to do so.
Warnings: Rumlow being Rumlow. Shameless flirting. Maybe dirty sweaty man sex.
Rumlow was still flicking slugs off of his armour when they disembarked from the quinjet. If he ever had to go back to Loreta, Columbia, he was sleeping in the trees with the damn jaguars rather than in the tent with the slugs. Damn things made a mess of everything.
Of course, the next mess was juggling twenty-four guys in a confined locker room who all were intent on getting out of their disgusting body armour and uniforms and leaving after a quick shower. He was one of the last ones in the cramped quarters, but really, compared to the quinjet they just disembarked from, it was pretty much home sweet home. At least there was less chance of getting slugs up the trousers or leeches in ones boots. Actually... as he looked around, there was plenty of opportunity for both. Home sweet home, indeed.
He pushed members of STRIKE Echo out of his way, but he simply wiggled passed members of his own team. People were making their way to the showers, which thankfully left him room to get to his locker. Captains were on the far end, including Rogers apparently, and he had a clean line of sight as he jostled his way to his locker to start stripping off his gear. Of course, he had to go passed Captain Rogers, which was always a goddamn treat. Only man who looked that good in underwear.
"Out of the way, Jenkins," he ordered, elbowing the lesser from loitering too close to Rogers. Kid just wanted a picture every single time. "Showers because you stink," he added, sending the youngest member of his team off but without a playful shove from the other guy. Just as planned.
He stepped backwards and bumped into Steve, his right hand going backwards as if to catch himself but really, it was so he could set it right on Rogers' right ass cheek. Damn fine. He pushed off as if correcting his balance and pretended to glare at Jenkins who was now hurrying off, leaving this area relatively alone.
"Sorry about that," he said, though he didn't mean it one bit. "Nice ass, big guy," he said with a wink as he reached out to open his locker and started to shrug out of his gear.
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He relaxed completely with his beer, his handful of chips and his current company as the teams were taking to the field. He figured there wouldn't be much conversation aside from 'great stats on that guy' and 'what a shitty pitch' and 'bet you could do better, Cap', so they may as well get it out of the way.
"I'm taking New York. They're kind of the team I've always rooted for," he said and looked over at Steve. "What do you wager for a win, Rogers?"
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"Fine, fine, I'll take San Francisco." The Giants were a strong team, so he shouldn't complain too much. He'd had to relearn which teams were worth watching and which were struggling after his defrosting, and by now he had a pretty good hold on it, though he wasn't fanatic enough to know player names and stats beyond the really popular few.
"Wager? I thought it was a friendly bet." Doesn't that mean that they don't wager anything at all? Apparently that wasn't interesting enough, and after a pause Steve shrugged his shoulders. "I think I have five bucks in my wallet." It seemed like a small enough amount for what was supposed to be low-stress.
I know pretty much nothing about baseball... I'm so sorry :/
"Of course you will, since we both can't root for New York," he pointed out sarcastically, though he would maybe be convinced to. It wouldn't be an interesting bet at all unless they both lost. Then he could make it interesting somehow.
"It is friendly, but come on, live a little." He gave Steve a withering look for suggesting that the exchange money. That was so old school, and he would have none of it, not if he wanted to have fun. "Keep your money, pal. I make a pay cheque and so do you. No way, whoever loses has the right to dare the other to do anything. Well, within reason, no criminal stuff. Deal?"
It's fine! I only know a small amount...
In the end, as dramatic as he might be about it at times, the point is to watch the games and have a good time, which is why he's not too worked up about having to side with San Francisco in this case.
He's not particularly surprised that Rumlow wants to make the bet a little more "interesting," though the suggestion does throw him for a second. A dare? It's pretty juvenile, but Steve also has a difficult time turning down any challenge. Some might consider it a flaw of his. "Within reason," he agrees. Not that he expects either of them would want to commit any crimes. "All right, it's a deal." He holds his hand out to shake on it.
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For all that Rogers did really stupid stuff like jumping out of Quinjets without parachutes, the guy had a wariness that tainted their interactions. It was like Rogers was suspicious he was going to parade the man down the hallway naked or something. Rumlow had some class, albeit not much at this point in his life.
He shook Steve's warm hand and smiled in a charming manner. "Ah, good firm handshake. My da always said you could tell a lot about a man by his handshake." He dropped the shake and folded his hands behind his head to watch the game. "Oh and don't be sad when you lose our bet. I'll be gentle with you, since it's your first time."
you can timeskip through the game if you want!
The comment about the handshake caused him to shrug, because he was pretty sure it took a lot more than that to actually figure out what kind of person someone was. He glanced back to the television, leaning forward for some more chips and dip before he finally settled in on the couch to watch the game.
Really, he would have been happy to lapse into silence for a while after that, but then Rumlow had to make that comment. "You're not exactly filling me with a lot of encouragement about this." Seriously -- I'll be gentle, it's your first time? That sounded like something the creepy bad guy in a cheesy movie said to that main character. Rumlow was probably just trying to be funny, but Steve did have to wonder what he had in mind, and if it was really what it sounded like.
Well, he'd find out soon enough.
kk! You decide the winner, har har!
They ate all the food without a problem, and he only got up to take away empty beer bottles to replace them with full ones. He let Steve take most of the food and the beer, since he wasn't about to risk getting intoxicated and possibly handsy. He'd never live that one down and there was a bet to consider as well as the game actually made an exciting progression through the innings. Yanks were ahead but not by much, and it was one of those edge-of-your-seats games down to the ninth inning.
He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he watched the game avidly, his half-empty beer rolling between his hands. San Fran at the bat with a chance to not only tie the game but move ahead. He was mostly confident in the Yankees having a track record of not blowing it.
He knew that Steve would end up giving him a lame dare anyway, which would be a waste. He liked winning, but he was patient about getting his chances, and he was rather focused on the game to put on any move more than their hands brushing over the dip or knees knocking when one of them rose for something or another. Steve was pretty good in watching games with so far.
We know this can only go one way. 8)
Despite that, though, he did love the game and he could definitely get drawn in by watching pretty much immediately. It turned out that this game was a close one, something that actually held his interest through every inning even though these things sometimes dragged on for a while. Steve's eyes were glued to the TV, and eventually he wasn't really focused on the snack food or his second beer.
Bottom of the ninth, and it was up to his team (or rather, the team he'd bet for) to either make or break this game. Steve realized that it was just a silly bet at the end of the day, but that didn't stop him from leaning forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his thighs as he watched the final batter take his hit. The ball soared high up in the air, it was looking good --
But it just didn't go far enough, falling down into the glove of an outfielder and ending the game before the Giants could make any more runs. Steve let out an exasperated groan and fell back against the couch, planting his hands over his face before sliding them down. He glanced over at Rumlow and smiled. "Well, you won fair and square."
Down the dark lonely road to hell
Rumlow shifted backwards and flopped carelessly again the back of the couch, lifting his beer to his lips and draining it off with three swallows. He smirked over at Steve as he eyed the other man speculatively, and he admitted to being thoroughly amused by the good-natured show of loss. "Seems like I did. Not surprising, though it shaped up better than I thought. Can't say I like blow-out games."
He pushed off his lean and set his empty beer bottle on the table and huffed at Rogers. "So, my dare then, huh? Let's see..." he trailed off and threw his gaze around the room like he was searching for something particularly embarrassing to make Steve do. He finally just look at his Captain and offered a sheepish smile. "I dare you to declare that Queens is a far superior area of town and kiss me right here like I'm the King or something," he said pointing at a spot on his left cheek.
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Well, there was the matter of the bet, and Rumlow didn't take long to decide what he wanted. Almost like he'd thought it all out in advance. Steve didn't think that saying Queens was the best part of New York City would really be so horrible, especially since he knew he didn't actually believe that. Words were just words in the end, and if Rumlow really needed his ego stroked that much, then fine. But then...
There was another part to it. A kiss, on the cheek. It wasn't particularly harmful, but it did add to Steve's suspicions that Rumlow's motives hadn't been entirely pure even from the beginning. Steve had been flirted with by men before, but never a teammate. Checked out, maybe, but that was pretty normal given what he looked like. This was an entirely different kind of territory, and dangerous at that.
They were off the clock, he reminded himself, and it was just a stupid dare. Steve leaned forward to set his beer bottle down on the table and then shifted to face Rumlow more directly. "Okay. Queens is the best part of the Big Apple, bar none." He raised his eyebrows. Was that good enough?
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Besides everyone that he knew who also knew Cap was clearly of the opinion that the big guy really needed to get laid. Even Romanoff was looking for dates among the female population, so she had to have a similar opinion or faked it like she did everything else. Who was Rumlow to not offer that service? It'd be a crime.
He smirked like Steve had just said magical words to him, even if he knew both of them didn't believe them at all. Queens was a piece of shit. He nodded his head as if he were satisfied with the declaration and bared his cheek, pointing at the spot.
...and as soon as Rogers came in, he was going to see if he could kiss the poor repressed bastard right on the mouth.
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Honestly, Rumlow wasn't a bad-looking guy. Not by any means. It was more that Steve didn't know the rules that they were playing by, didn't understand Rumlow's motives, didn't have much experience in general. Still, there was something exciting in that too -- in not having much of an idea of where this was going.
So he leaned in, eyes open (it would have felt weird to close them) as he shifted his weight to bring him near enough to press his lips at the spot Rumlow had indicated.
Except then Rumlow turned his face, and it happened at the last second, so quick that Steve didn't have the chance to abort the action before he kissed Rumlow's lips instead. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed people before, but this would be his first time kissing a man and while he didn't have anything against the idea, he wasn't quite ready for it to be sprung on him like that.
Just a second after their lips touched, Steve jerked back, more out of shock than anything else.
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He jerked back at the same time that Steve did, issuing a soft laugh that was full of apologetic awkwardness. "Geez sorry man... I was just going to say..." he trailed off and rubbed his lips with his fingers a little, concentrating really, really hard so that his face went a little red as if embarrassed. He totally wasn't because damn was he shameless.
"Uh... that was my bad. I was going to tell you that it didn't mean anything, just a prank and all... I know guys of your time were a little... you know," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Not that I have a problem with that. You're a very good looking man." Oh yeah, how long had it been since he pretended to be digging himself into a hole? Quite a while.
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The blush that spread over Steve's face was completely legitimate in comparison, and he scooted back on the couch so that there was some space between them again. Rumlow had an explanation, and Steve did what he could to swallow it down, although he didn't really approve of being lumped in with "guys of his time."
The compliment was so direct that Steve had to avert his gaze for a moment, but when he gathered his composure and glanced back, it was with a small smirk on his lips. The easiest way to worm his way out of an uncomfortable situation was with humor and sass. "Is that why you decided to smack my ass in the showers?" Really, Rumlow had always struck Steve as straight as they come, but he realized he had to toss away the idea of people with certain sexual orientations looking or behaving a particular way. It didn't work like that.
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Steve, of course, blushed like a mad man, and it was amusing. He held his ground on the couch though, still rubbing at his lips with a slight air of contemplation. He stiffened at the mention of the showers, and it was his turn to avert his gaze and look uncomfortable. "Nah, that was because you have a nice ass," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
"You know that already though," he added as he rubbed a hand through his hair. "May I kiss you for real?" Strike while the iron was hot, right?
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Natasha has been tossing him names of girls he might want to date, and Steve has found ways to wriggle out of following up on each and every one, always producing some kind of excuse. Natasha's never given him a guy's name, and Steve's not sure if that's because she's made assumptions or because she thinks he'd cite his "not ready for that" reason.
He has found people to practice with, though only women so far. Steve can acknowledge that Rumlow is attractive -- that's really no secret. He eyes Rumlow's lips in quiet consideration and then lets out a breath.
He won't know how he feels about it unless he gives it a real try, right?
"All right." What the hell is he getting himself into? It's just a kiss, he reminds himself. It doesn't have to mean anything, it doesn't have to lead to anything. Maybe it would be easier if they both got this out of their systems. And maybe a part of him is just curious, simple as that.
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He noted the fact that Steve was looking at his lips as if trying to assess something about them. Hmpt, he had practiced long and hard on being a good kisser, though few allowed him to really let loose on them. He was, unfortunately, the type of man who liked to mingle the pleasure and the pain together, which generally involved teeth. He kept those to a minimum for most.
Maybe today too. Maybe.
He smirked charmingly at Steve and reached out to slip a hand around the back of the blond's neck, his thumb brushing against the hairs at Steve's hairline as he shifted around and leaned in. He was not hesitant at all as he pressed his lips to Steve's, keeping it simple for a few seconds before he parted his lips and teased the tip of his tongue against the commissure invitingly.
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He leaned in too, so that they met in the middle, forcing his eyes closed this time as they kissed again. He could feel the stubble on Rumlow's chin rubbing up against his skin, and the hard edges of his shoulders under his palms. It was nothing like kissing a woman -- Rumlow tasted like beer and there was still the hint of gunsmoke on him from their op.
When Rumlow dared to try and press his tongue inside, Steve slowly opened his mouth to grant him access. He had figured that this wouldn't just be a chaste kiss, since Rumlow wasn't really the kind of guy to hold back. Rumlow's tongue slid in, warm and purposeful, and Steve tightened his grip on him as he pushed back, their teeth clacking against each other, which he ignored easily enough.
It wasn't bad. He didn't want to pull away in revulsion, anyway.
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However, they met in the middle and he could briefly fool everyone that this was something completely mutual. There was no hesitation on his part to ease his tongue into Steve's mouth either, and the good Captain tasted like beer with an undertone of chip dip and something that was just all uniquely Cap. He immediately turned his face slightly, caressing the tip of his tongue against the roof of Steve's mouth before seeing if he could engage the other man's tongue in a little battle.
His hand crept up to the back of Steve's head, tangling his fingers in the blond hair there as he subtly began to apply more of his weight forward to urge Rogers backwards.
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On the other hand, he didn't see why something as trivial as a person's sex should stop him from pursuing something he enjoyed.
As Rumlow's tongue explored his mouth, Steve made a small sound, half surprise and half intrigue. Rumlow definitely wasn't holding back, this was really not a first-date kind of kiss, and Steve found himself circling his tongue around Rumlow's, pressing back against it when he was offered resistance. Steve could also feel the way that Rumlow was trying to push him back, and while he could have easily ignored that, he let his body sink backward until he was leaned partly against the arm of the couch.
With his hands still on Rumlow's shoulders, it was easy enough to tug him along as they rode out the kiss, although eventually Steve did break away and laughed, all throaty and warm. "Do you get to scratch something off your bucket list now?"
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He inhaled that sound, drinking it in and savouring the heat that pooled in his belly because of it. Like an achievement worth celebrating. Steve might not have a lot of experience, but the guy had heart and a willingness to just delve right in without fear. That was what made Cap so special, a force to be reconned with, a man to kiss the breath right out of.
He let Steve guide him forward, coming to half sprawl over the larger man as they broke apart. The laugh caused him to smirk as he lounged on Steve like the guy was just another part of his couch. "Damn rights, I do! Two things actually. Kissing a National Treasure and kissing a CO."
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"Two for one special, huh?" Steve raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but wonder if that was all this was about, some kind of notch for Rumlow to put on his belt. Plenty of people had to daydream about what it was like to kiss Captain America, and for some reason Rumlow was the one who'd actually dragged one out of him.
"I hope you're not the type to kiss and tell," Steve mumbled, and while he said it in a joking way, he was being somewhat serious. They didn't need to let this get out to the rest of the STRIKE Team. Steve lifted his arms up to rest them behind his head and looked Rumlow over. With their faces this close, it was even easier to admire just how attractive his teammate really was. Steve usually didn't let himself think about that kind of thing when they were on duty.
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"That's the way we do it in America," he said with a laugh. "It's how we get so many tourists in this part of the world." And he supposed that some of those tourists were hoping to catch a glimpse of the National Icon himself since the Battle of New York. Ah well, he wasn't going to squeal too much about their kiss, maybe just to STRIKE and Pierce.
"Pfft, I work for an agency that works in lies and national security. I think I can keep a secret like this from squirting out," he replied dryly, aware that it technically not an untruth. He shook his head a little and then pressed his forehead to Steve's in a faint soldierly gesture of affection. "I've got your back, Cap. No one's gonna know you're not that bad at kissing."
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Right now, though, he was actually pretty relaxed. Rumlow wouldn't blab about this to the rest of the team, and the knowledge that there was one thing in Steve's life that he could actually keep to himself was freeing. Even if it was something as simple as kissing one of his subordinates on the side. He didn't mean it as some kind of abuse of power, though -- after all, Rumlow was the one who'd asked for this. He also didn't know if it was going to be more than one-time thing yet. That was something he'd have to think about more.
When their foreheads pressed, Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pleasantly surprised by the affectionate gesture. He'd done this with other soldiers before, usually if they were injured and in fear of dying, so it was nice to do it in a less chaotic context. I've got your back, Rumlow said, and wasn't that a good feeling too? Avengers aside, Steve had never found anything like the Commandos here in the future, but maybe he could get there with someone like Rumlow.
"Not that bad? Well, I guess it could be worse." He sighed and opened his eyes, smiling up at Rumlow. "So what now?"
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However, right now, here in this place, this was all still about planning and locking in the variables. Rogers was a variable, though he wasn't so certain that anything about the guy could be locked down completely. He still wasn't certain why Pierce wasn't knocking the guy down and bleeding him to get as much potential for the super-soldier program back up and running. No, Pierce was just being amused watching Rogers move and take missions like some old war hero.
Maybe just this once, he'd horde this experience to himself. He gave everything to the mission that just this one thing wouldn't hurt to keep as his own. He knew better than to rely too much on others, not even his own team, but Rogers... sometimes he could think that the guy might come through in most things. It was a bad way to think, especially here and now lounging on the guy.
Regardless, for now, they were comrades. "Yeah it could have been like licking a dead slug," he admitted with a smirk. "I might be able to find something to watch, since it's still early, or I guess I can let you go about your life again?" He made no effort to move and even boldly circled his arms around the back of Steve's neck. "Or I could teach you how to kiss properly."
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