[Valentine’s Thread for @becomelions​‘ Rumlow.]

Send 👀 for a SFW romantic/FWB thread. ------------

The Bitter End on Bleecker Street wasn’t exactly the sort of venue someone thought of for a romantic date - which was at least partly the point. Valentine’s had turned into a different kind of joke, from the days of taunting each other with pretend gifts to taunting everyone else, and a smooth but not too upscale bar more or less fit the bill.

      The invitation is made casually, as if there isn’t a very real danger of being labeled a collaborator just by talking to the man. At his comment, she offers nothing but another shrug. Not like she’ll take it personally if he declines, and honestly, she’d be better off going home alone. Yet his acceptance has a slight smile twitching her lips. 

The Grand Ballroom, 583 Park Avenue, Manhattan ...

At times like this, a simple New York cab just wouldn’t do. But fortunately enough, it was also at times like this that Thera could cheerfully tack a chauffeur-driven Limousine on her expense account and only have to listen to Finance screaming about it later.

Dark red sequins hung from a halter neck into an indulgently low neckline, then on to hug her hips and into a slit skirt that flowed around her legs above gold stilletto heels. Because, yes, she just may have been milking this opportunity for everything it was worth.

A faux fur wrap rested about her shoulders in the back of the car, and she peeked through the window the gathering crowd as the driver eased them to a stop in front of the venue. She made a quick final check of her make-up before the door was opened, then gave Brock wide and slightly wicked grin.

[Kiss Meme for @becomelions​‘ Rumlow.]

✿  - 30. A kiss on the knuckles. ------------

“Hey, now ... ”

Thera wasn’t exactly wrestling for possession of Rumlow’s hand, but she was pulling it back as he tried to move it away. “Come on,” She coaxed, drawing it over to her again despite the semi-peeved expression on his face, “let me see. If I don’t look after this now they’re going to spot it in medical later.”

[Valentine’s Application ... or not ... @becomelions​.]

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Placeholder for an indignant Brock Rumlow, who doesn't see why he has to make an application when he’s already filling the position, thanks.

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[Shirt Meme for @becomelions​‘ Brock Rumlow.]

👀 ------------

That was ... probably the closest they’d been to getting caught. On the couch in Brock’s quarters, tangled up together and with the movie long fallen to being ignored, when there was an unexpected knock at the door.

It was entirely possible they hadn’t scrambled so fast in quite a while.

Thera had one of those dream-type moments where everything she needed to grab was either missing or just out of reach, Brock calling to whoever it was to wait a minute while he straightened himself up and gave her time to hot-foot it into the bedroom and close the door.

Where she was now stuck. An ear pressed to the door gave away some parts of the conversation, and dammit that sounded like the handler from another of the teams, come to pick his brain on ... well, it didn’t matter exactly, it was likely to take a while. Leaving her to do ... what? Nothing that was going to make a noise, for a start, so no music or movie on her phone. Maybe some games with the sound off, or finding something to read while she waited for the inevitably cranky Agent Rumlow ...

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Cargo ship at dock, late evening ...

One of the mooring lines had come loose ahead of time. It happened that way now and again, when the drift of the cargo ship had been strong enough and at the right angles to work the dockside loop free. Nobody aboard was much bothered, since it wasn’t discovered until after dark, and just before they were due to cast-off anyway. Instead, they just left one of the new (ie, low-ranking) crewmen to turn the winch and reel the thing in.

Which was maybe more difficult than it should have been, he thought, throwing all his strength into making the wheel turn. The rope seemed awfully damn heavy - but then it might have been in the water a while, perhaps that was why? It was certainly dripping all over the aft deck along the way.

He consoled himself with that idea, along with the one that maybe his cheap-ass bosses could cough up the money for an automatic winch - at least until the last bit of the line came to a sudden stop. Jammed? Caught on something? He yanked the winch a couple of times in vague hope, then heaved a sigh and went to look over the side to see what was holding it up.

There was something on the rope. The crewman frowned leaned further, to get a closer look.