Whoa, big guy. (For assembles)

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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.

Comments

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He was definitely interested for his own brief selfish reasons because he had grown up with this icon of a man, and it seemed a small worthwhile endeavor to explore all that Cap was just for a moment. He knew it wouldn't last, didn't want it to, but perhaps there was a small mutual benefit to them both just having a little fun here with no strings attached. It wasn't like he had to report it; he'd kept one or two secrets from HYDRA before. No harm, no foul.

It was the nitty gritty that he liked about Rogers, not afraid to get covered in mud, blood and rain like the rest of them. He knew that was true, but those kinds of commanders were men he respected, and the kind of commander he himself wanted to be like. He put his men into no situation where he himself wouldn't be willing to go. Hell, he'd had a few good dressing downs because he had taken the most dangerous part of the mission personally and not handed it off to his men.

And Rogers? He'd seen Rogers do the exact same thing. There was a part of him beyond the mission that did lust after the man. It was only now that he was exposing it at all.

"You don't, but I'll teach you," he said with a cock-sure smirk before he lifted a hand to shove it through Steve's hair to mess it up. He liked the rough helmet hair look far better than this polished one. "Oh, so the great golden Rogers does want to learn, huh? Well... since you insisted."

He pushed himself up from lounging on Steve's chest and leaned in, nudging their noses together once before he pressed their lips together again. Almost immediately, he moved to seize Roger's lower lip and sucked and nibbled on it, watching the other man's reaction with a raised eyebrow and a half-smirk still.

[assembles]

This wasn't the first time that someone had taken the approach of wanting to teach him how to kiss, but no one had ever been this bold about it. Most people remained in awe of him even when they were up close and personal like this, and so it was nice to have someone he felt more or less on equal footing with pressing his lips against his mouth instead.

That part of it -- that it was a man and not a woman sprawled out on top of him -- really didn't seem to make much of a difference. Steve wouldn't have been able to reconcile something like this if it had happened back during the war, but he'd pretty much only had eyes for Peggy then anyway. Here in the modern age, there had been so much progress made when it came to sexuality and what was acceptable. Liking men and women wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

This was Steve's business and his alone. Something he could keep to himself, away from the watchful eye of the media. That alone spurred him on.

When Rumlow worked on his lower lip, even getting slightly rough with it, Steve made a small surprised noise, but didn't pull away. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of sharp teeth pressing against the softness of his lip, that slight spark of pain that really only made the whole thing better. His hands reached out for Rumlow's shoulders and then slid around to the back of his neck, nudging him closer as he opened his mouth for him.

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This was their business. It was between them. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't the kind of skill training that he needed to report to anyone. In fact, the more secret it was, the better for them both. He would hate to have to change this from a pleasurable venture to something akin to business.

That little noise was heartening. He had always suspected that Rogers was an adrenaline junkie, maybe with just a small touch of masochistic tendencies. It seemed that they would get along just fine in their mannerisms towards each other, and he turned his mouth slightly so that their noses could brush as Steve's lips parted more. He immediately took advantage of the offer to flick his tongue against the roof of the blond's mouth.

His hands were not inactive either, sliding down Steve's muscled sides to gain an all new and person appreciation of that body under his own. His legs shifted to settle on either side of one of Steve's, gripping it with his knee as he sounded a soft pleased noise into their locked lips.

[assembles]

It wouldn't be the first time that Steve had been accused of having masochistic tendencies. Bucky had always demanded to know why he went out of his way to get the tar kicked out of him back in the day, for instance. This wasn't the same thing, not even close, with far more pleasure than pain, but mixing the two together seemed to really do it for Steve.

As Rumlow shifted, Steve slid his hands down from his neck, resting them at the small of his back, just a few inches above his ass, and held him in place. With the way that Rumlow was straddling one of Steve's legs, his crotch was close to brushing up against his thigh, though Steve didn't go so far as to force that friction.

He didn't know if he was ready for that yet. Besides, making out was pretty good all on its own.

When Rumlow's tongue pressed its way into Steve's mouth, he sucked at it, then circled his own tongue around it, his hands gripping a little tighter as he got more into it and some of those inhibitions melted away.

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He rolled his shoulders as Steve's hands slid over them, and then arched his back as those same hands passed down further and further to rest pleasantly against the dip of his back, so close but so far from being bold. It was more than he had expected, since he had been all about kissing Steve and thinking the man would ice him out of anything more than that.

Certainly, it had factored into his mind that his own boldness might earn him a good old fashioned dump on the floor. It didn't happen and he remained as relaxed as if he was just lounging on the couch and little else.

He moaned a soft of approval to the sucking on his tongue, squirming the muscle to dart at the tongue that came in close in return. His eyes closed like he was settling in for the long haul as he pressed his lips more aggressively against Steve's and battled the other man's tongue, though tasting and exploring everything possible without choking the guy.

[assembles]

It actually left Steve feeling a little unsettled, to realize how easily he'd taken to all this. Maybe Natasha was right and he'd just needed the chance to unwind -- not that he was necessarily going to tell her about this. He didn't know if he should, given that it wasn't very professional. On the other hand, if he told her as a friend, it might be all right. She might just be glad to hear that he'd finally taken the plunge.

Of course he couldn't turn his brain off even when he was in the middle of a make out session. Steve sighed into Rumlow's mouth and tried to blank out everything else and focus on nothing more than sensation. Rumlow's taste, the roughness of his stubble against Steve's chin, and the way that his own lips were starting to get swollen from all the kissing.

He kept at it for a while, slow and languid, simply enjoying this for the sake of it with as little strings attached as he could manage. Steve wasn't the sort of person to get deeply involved with someone without those strings appearing, but a little making out didn't hurt anyone, right?

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His lips were also swelling with their kiss, but he liked it rough and fast and hard. There was no other way to go, and Steve responded so well, better than he had ever expected. The guy tested like a fresh breath of air if that was at all possible with just the right undertone of chip dip, beer and freedom. Damn if he didn't have to catch his thoughts from straying too far down that road.

Slowly, still sliding against Steve's tongue once, twice and then flicking his tongue against the roof of the super-soldier's mouth, he withdrew and broke the kiss. He sighed contently and shifted his legs as if trying to sit back but instead just sat down more on Steve's thigh and ran his hands down the full length of Rogers' chest.

"You are a fast-learner at everything," he said cheekily. "We can just call this personal continuing education."

[assembles]

It's good that Rumlow broke it off when he did, as Steve had been starting to feel a little breathless, and he laid there in the aftermath of the kiss, hair mussed and eyes blown and kind of stunned. It was only now that it all sank in completely, especially when Rumlow settled on his leg and he was pretty sure he could feel his dick even through all those layers of clothing.

"I figure I have a lot to catch up on with this stuff, I'd better be a fast learner." Then again, this was a different set of rules than if he was with a woman. Not so different that he thought it would be a problem, but...

He scrubbed his hand over his face and through his hair. "That's probably enough for one day, though, right?" Steve wasn't interested in moving too fast here. He had to figure out if he even wanted this to become routine, and he wasn't sure he was in the right state of mind to decide now.

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He chuckled at the look on Steve's face and the rumpled look of the living legend, amused as much as he found it a huge turn-on. He managed to keep a reaction from showing more than a twitch because he was certain that would send Rogers right out the nearest window. That might be amusing, but he was now thinking he could convince the guy for a few more times of careful exploration of one another.

"Too true, but you're pretty good once you get the hang of it," he agreed affably. He idly wondered if Rogers still had that v-card to hand over. Either way, it'd be very entertaining to see this guy in the sack.

He leaned up and pecked Steve on the lips, offering the super-soldier a wink as he sat up on Steve's leg. He stretched his arms and made a soft groaning sound, looking a bit too much like a contented cat. "Sure thing, Cap, but if you ever want more practice, my door is open for you. I can be whatever you need."

[assembles]

As far as compliments went, "pretty good" often fell into the backhanded category, but in this instance Steve would take it. It was better than some of the reactions he'd received after kissing someone, especially those first few times when he'd still been figuring everything out. He had disappointed at least a few girls, not living up to what they expected Captain America to be like.

Well, that was bound to happen, and not just with kissing.

He had learned a thing or two since then, and while it wouldn't have been the end of the world if a teammate thought that he was a lousy kisser, Steve found that he wasn't opposed to the idea of maybe doing this again. He had to think it over when he wasn't in the moment, but he found his eyes traveling over Rumlow's body as he stretched. He did slide his leg out from under Rumlow and push himself up so that he was sitting properly again, though.

I can be whatever you need. It was quite the statement, and Steve didn't know how to feel about it. "Like what?" he asked as he smoothed out his shirt and put his hair back into place.

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Well, in his compliments, he was generally honest. He didn't play at making someone feel good because it was expected; he did it because he thought they were deserving of the praise. He wasn't in this to butter up someone's feelings after all, though he kept that gruff nature off of the grid when it was more important to the mission to either say nothing or just let someone assume what he was going to say about them.

He finished his stretching and lifted his weight so it wasn't quite so difficult for Steve to shift away and sit up again. He had noticed the look, and that pleased him more than anything except the kisses themselves. He expected that meant some interest in things happening again.

He flopped onto the couch and stretched his legs out under the coffee table, folding his hands behind his head. "Anything you want, Cap," he said and reached over to set some of the hair at the back of Steve's head with his fingers. "Someone to practice on, someone to talk to, someone to just shoot the shit with, someone to have drinks with." He shrugged his shoulders. "Anything or nothing. I just think you should get out more; you're a good guy, and it's a shame to think you're stuck in your apartment living in memories." Not that he actually knew entirely what happened in that place.

[assembles]

Stuck in his apartment, living in memories? Is that was people thought of when they imagined what he did in his off time? Steve wanted to believe that he got out more than that, and he did, mainly for rides on his motorcycle. Still, he also couldn't deny that part of him was still trapped in the past, despite all the progress he'd made here in the future. He didn't know if that would ever change.

Still, the offer was generous, with Rumlow willing to put up with as few or as many strings as Steve wanted. He would have to make sure he knew what he hoped to get out of this and be positive on that so that he could lay it all out for Rumlow before they delved too deep. That was the fair way to do it.

"I appreciate it. I mean, all of it. The offer alone is more than you owe me," Steve said, closing his eyes as Rumlow's fingers worked through the short hairs at the back of his neck. "Can I take a raincheck on making my mind up? I need to think this over." Steve didn't hesitate to take the plunge into any sort of dangerous situation on a mission, but this required a lot more care and consideration.

Natasha would have said he was scared. But Natasha didn't know about this, at least not yet, and there was some relief in knowing that it was his secret for now.

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He had a feeling that old man Pierce was perfectly content to let Rogers live looking backwards, skipping along at Fury's insistence to get back into the world. It was a dangerous game, but it was also one that Pierce couldn't yet get too involved in either, since the Secretary had given up the position of Director of SHIELD years ago. Fury was too sharp a tack not to notice Pierce butting in, regardless of how good of 'friends' the pair might appear. So, this was all left to the very notion that everything would be fine and once Insight was up, all of their big problems would take a large gauge bullet to the skull.

He liked to think that they could get a little more out of Rogers than letting the legend himself wallow away in whatever it was that Steve did alone all the time. Oh he knew the guy went out and about here and there, but there was a significant difference in being out in the world and being part of it. He wasn't entirely convinced that Rogers was on board anymore.

"Come on, we're a team, Cap. We look out for each other," he said with a wave of his hand, all casual. His other still made attempts at smoothing Steve's hair into place, but it slowly changed to just gently massaging the back of the super-soldier's head, no pressure to be anything more than the offered touch. "You can make up your mind or change your mind whenever you want. I'm not the type to get easily offended if you do change your mind. Do whatever you want."

[assembles]

A team, Rumlow called them, and that was true. Steve couldn't really say why he had never felt as close to the STRIKE team as he did to the Avengers, even though he had technically run more missions with the former. He figured it probably had something to do with all of the Avengers being a little quirky or different in some way. That, and the STRIKE team was compromised of a lot of guys. Steve couldn't expect to get close to each and every one of them, whereas the Avengers was only six people.

Rumlow might be one of the few who Steve allowed himself to get more friendly with, though. He'd already made the first step and then some, although it was nice to hear that there wouldn't be any hard feelings if Steve decided to pull back and return their relationship to something strictly business. It made it low pressure, which was exactly what Steve needed at this point in his life.

"Sounds good," he said, nodding and then slowly sliding away from Rumlow's touch. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but maybe that he liked it too much. He didn't know why he was so nervous about getting attached, but it probably had something to do with the fact that he'd lost all the people he cared about once already.

The next mission they went on, Rumlow could end up with his head blown off. He couldn't forget that.

"Weren't you gonna show me some of that stained glass work?" he asked, hoping that the subject change was a little smoother than it felt.

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He dropped his hand away when Steve pulled away from him, pretending to respect the super-soldier's decision to dictate this little meeting. He had already gotten further than he expected since the day started after all, so all this fun was just a bonus in his books. He also knew better than to push at such a tedious junction, wanting Rogers to come back to him willingly. That would make the trap snapping shut all the sweeter.

Unless it didn't happen, in which case, he'd be right back where he started edging towards putting a bullet in the back of the man's skull. Either way, he still won in his own mind.

The change of conversation didn't offend him, and he pushed himself up from the couch smoothly, dusting off the last of the crumbs from his thighs to the floor. He stretched again now that he was standing and then gestured for Steve to follow him as he moved around the couch towards the closed door that he had indicated his work was behind. "Fair enough, it's not much, but it keeps my time. No laughing."

He stepped over to the door and pushed it open, revealing a neat work bench, a light table, built in shelves specifically to hold stained glass. There was a small project laid out on a pattern, incomplete but set well. The two windows in the room had various small projects hanging, catching the light after he had turned it on.

[assembles]

Steve stood up a beat after Rumlow did, following him over to the door that would allow him a closer look into his apartment. He would never laugh, not at someone's artwork. That wouldn't do any good in helping someone to improve, after all. Constructive criticism was another story, but it wasn't like Steve had any skill with stained glass. He mainly stuck to sketching and painting.

When the door opened, he stepped in after Rumlow, arms hanging loosely at his sides as he took it all in. Everything was neat -- unsurprising, as Rumlow was a good soldier and seemed to enjoy being orderly even in his personal life.

The finished pieces caused different shards of light to spread out over the floor, washing it in color, and it made for a warm, peaceful atmosphere. Hardly the sort of thing that Steve would have expected from someone who seemed to take really enjoyment out of his work, given that said work often involved killing other people.

He took a few careful steps forward to examine the current project. "How long does it take you to complete each one?" he asked, his voice quiet as if he wanted to pay proper respect to the art around him. "It looks like pretty time-consuming work."

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He casually leaned on his hip on the work table and let Steve wander around his little work room. He watched Rogers with a benign interest, studying the fluidity of how the man moved and the easy way that Steve held a casual manner even when walking around his little private work room.

Steve was the first man he had let into this, though he had taken a ribbing from the fellow STRIKE members about it. It was a private matter, and it was a hobby that was both complicated, dangerous and required good manual dexterity and patience. This was something that he had taken up to wile away the few free hours that he was allotted rather than waste his time at pubs or parks or wherever else.

"Depends on the complexity of the cuts," he said simply. He finally walked over and ran his finger over a piece that he had traced out but not cut. There was a deep half wedge curve. "The in-curves like these are the most difficult. Say... you want to cut a piece?"

[assembles]

When Rumlow picked out a piece to show him, Steve wandered over, his hands in his pockets now to make sure that he didn't disturb anything around him. An artist's space had to be respected, and everything he'd seen here qualified as art. Who would have thought Brock Rumlow was capable of this kind of thing? Granted, Steve could understand why he'd never mentioned it. A lot of soldiers prided themselves on their "manliness."

Whatever that meant.

The offer to cut out a piece of the glass took Steve aback. For Rumlow to trust him with something he'd already put so much work into was a pretty big deal, in Steve's estimation. He couldn't imagine asking someone else to finish one of his sketches or paintings, for instance. Refusing would be rude, given the circumstances and what the offer meant.

"You'd have to walk me through it, but sure," he said with a brief smile as he examined the various tools that were set out for the process.

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Rumlow had enough scrap pieces in a dish that he could find one that Steve could try getting a cut on. He reached out, carefully pushing around the scrap pieces which ranged in colour and size and found a pretty blue that was certainly large enough for some playing around.

He set it on the work bench and traced a line on it with a fine sharpie marker, sliding the piece towards Steve so it was in front of the super-soldier. He reached out to pick out a cutter from his neat arrangement of instruments and the pair of well-used flat-headed pliers.

Then, boldly and without care, he set the cutter into Steve's hand, clasping that big hand with his own as he stepped in right behind Steve. He rested his chest to the other man's back and peered around Steve's arm. "It's like holding a pencil, and you don't have to apply much pressure. If you hear a sharp grinding noise, you're pressing too hard," he instructed softly. "Just apply the cutter on the edge and follow the line to its end."

[assembles]

Of course he picked the blue piece.

Steve watched as Rumlow gathered the few tools that were needed for the process, and while he could sense that he was going to come up behind him, he still tensed up when it happened. It wasn't that he actually minded Rumlow getting up close and personal. That would be kind of ridiculous, given that they'd been draped over each other not that long ago. But Steve wasn't used to someone being so casually intimate with him.

Still, he took the cutter and listened carefully to Rumlow's instructions. He didn't want to screw this up and have the night end with someone getting hurt, even if his own wounds would heal quickly. That might not be the case if he lost a finger or something, but this didn't strike him as too complicated. If it really was like holding a pencil and drawing a line, then he would be fine. He had a steady hand.

Doing his best to ignore the warmth of Rumlow's body behind him, Steve started at the top of the line, although almost immediately that grinding noise started, and he eased up some pressure. After that it went smoothly enough, and he drew the cutter down through the glass until the two pieces separated from each other.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," he said as he set the cutter down for safety purposes.

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He ignored the tension in Roger's body, able to use the excuse of instruction for the reason of his own antics. Besides, they had been lounging on the couch together and this wasn't that much different in his mind. Steve hadn't put up much of a fuss when he had been straddling the guy's thigh (and it had been a very nice thigh).

He guided without impeding the other man's motions, listening to the soft grind of glass and then the smooth cut. He hummed in appreciation and watched as the two pieces separated cleanly from each other with such a fine cut. Of course Rogers had those artist's hands that could make a difference and he knew Steve picked up on new skills readily.

"Nope, that's pretty darn good, Cap," he said and eased his hand away now that the cut was finished. He stepped to the side as well, since there was no need to be there with no more instructions necessary. "I bet you could be an old pro in no time if you spent a little time at it. I'd show you how to solder, but I don't have any pieces for that ready at the moment. You're free to cut more if you like."

[assembles]

Steve realized a long time ago that he was a pretty fast learner, given that he'd been thrown into a command position in the middle of the war and had actually done okay. At least up until he'd had to watch Bucky fall from a moving train, and had then crashed a plane and himself into the Arctic. But all of the other people he'd led, the rest of the Commandos and Peggy too, they'd gone on to live long, fulfilling lives. It had to count for something.

While Rumlow offered to let him do some more, Steve shook his head and placed his hands in his pockets. "I wouldn't want to take over what you're doing." If he was that interested in stained glass work, he could always pick it up himself. "Thanks for letting me try, though."

Steve took another circle of the room to inspect some of the finished projects, admiring the work even if he mostly remained quiet. He liked what he saw, though, and it was nice to know that at least one of his teammates was also an artist. "Do Rollins and the others know about this?" he asked eventually.

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"I can give you scrape pieces to play around with. Hell, I've got some beginner stuff if you want to learn," he said with a vague shrug of his shoulders. This was just a personal thing to give him something to talk about and to appear in public like some kind of normal person engaged in society. He'd taken the classes, shown potential, and kept up with it. No big deal.

He stepped back over to the table and shifted to clean up, setting the piece Steve had cut into his scrapes bin again. The cutter and pliers went back to their appropriate place within easy reach, and he reminded himself to do a quick vacuum when Steve had left. If Steve was leaving. He'd be fine the guy staying, but the blond wanted things 'slow'.

"No, I keep this sort of thing to myself," he said honestly. He glanced over to Steve. "You think tough guys like that would let me live this down without teasing me mercilessly?"

[assembles]

So Steve was right, and Rumlow felt that he needed to keep up some kind of macho persona when he was on the clock. It was a common enough thing, and it had been even during the war. Too many young men with too much to prove. Steve didn't really see the big deal, but then again, having to run around in tights with shorts over them had pretty much ruined whatever was left of his dignity.

"If you think about it, it's kind of any friend's job to tease you mercilessly." It was all about the intention behind it. Some people did that kind of thing just to be cruel, while a friend would mean it harmlessly. Steve figured that none of the STRIKE team would be bold enough to actually mock Rumlow openly, but he wasn't going to push the subject too much.

Still, Rumlow had shared it with him, which meant that it was kind of a big deal. "Well, maybe if I come back over, I'll mess around with this a little more. I don't really have the space at my apartment." It wasn't exactly a promise that he'd be back, but it was edging toward it. He eyed Rumlow with an easy smile. "Anyway, I guess I'll have to show you some of my sketches now."

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If he played tennis or went to bars or had barbecue cook-outs in his spare time, he'd have no problem letting everyone know about it. This was a little more sensitive given that everyone would want to see and then he just knew they would be reduced to slashing each other with glass. That was seriously a mess he didn't want to have to explain to anyone or clean up afterwards. It was hazardous enough for him doing it alone let alone letting a bunch of repressed sadists in here.

"Yeah well, I don't need all eleven of them coming at me at once. I'd have to punch them," he replied wistfully, more for the enjoyment of punching than because he would be subjected to that kind of teasing. He and STRIKE were close; they had to be given all that they were required to do. "This is just between us. You asked, and I agreed."

He nodded his head, intending to hold Steve to that even if it wasn't anything close to a promise. "I have the set-up and you're welcome to it," he remarked. "I think you're going to have to, Rogers. Or the next time I see you, unless you're inviting me to your place next time?"