“Don't think you can go and be an asshole to everyone I know all the time,” Sam shot back mildly enough. He sat himself on the floor on the van right next to where Rumlow's head was and shoved his jacket at him until there was a lift and proper pillowing. After that he left his arm where it was, half-draped over the edge of the cushion in a position that wasn't really more comfortable but far more sustainable.

He could pet, touch and keep mingling their scents like this which is all he felt like he couldn't get enough of.

“But yeah, about that long.” Sam added to answer the question. “How old are you, anyway?”