A grumble ripples through Rumlow’s chest, shaking Rollins’ head where it lies on his shoulder.
“The fuck are you doing, Jack?”
“Sleeping, so shut the hell up.” Brock could feel the skin of his chest twist as Jack scowled.
“Why’re you sleeping on me?” He asked as he began grasping at Rollins’ shoulder to shove him off. He’s surprised when Jack shoves back against him, slinging his arm over his chest and gripping him tight. No answer is given, but he’s too surprised by the unusual display of affection that he doesn’t protest again. He lets his arm relax and fall against the sheets, finally letting his eyes squint open. They don’t meet with much, and his body’s natural clock tells him it’s still late (or early, depending on how you wanna look at it). Streetlights and headlights flicker through the cracks in his blinds as he stares at the top of his SIC’s head, dark hair mussed from sleep (and other activities, he thought smugly).
Jack’s breathing evened out soon after, but the sky began to lighten before Brock found any more rest. Unused to this much physical contact outside of sex, he wasn’t entirely sure his body was capable of powering down and sleeping through it. As the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon and found their way across the top of their sheets (his sheets, he reminded himself. They weren’t living together, this was still his apartment. Even if Jack spent more time here than his own place), Jack stirred again.
His head moved, cheek sticking for a moment to Brock before tugging free. He rolled over then, and a strange feeling of longing passed through Rumlow until he stamped it out. He wanted to get some fucking sleep, and he was pissed at Rollins for depriving him of that. What goddamn reason could he have for suddenly becoming so touchy-feely? They were just fucking: letting off some steam with each other because they knew that the second they let their guard down they wouldn’t get a knife to the back, which was more than they could say for some of the others on their team (or the world at large). And if he happened to be repulsed at the idea of sleeping with anyone else, well, that was his own fucking business and no one else’s.
He was almost asleep again when he heard Rollins’ voice behind him, rough and low, almost too quiet to hear.
“Don’t be like that.”
Rumlow blew out a breath, ire rising again.
“Like what, dickhead?”
Rollins just laughed at that, the sound scratchy and pleasant, sending a warm feeling straight to Brock’s balls.
“You’re going to act all pissy ‘cause you’re tired. Just don’t. Sorry you didn’t sleep well, but we gotta start somewhere.”
Confusion muddled through Brock as the words pieced together in his head.
“For what? The hell are you talking about, agent?”
Smiling because he only called him ‘agent’ when he was being petty, Rollins answered him:
“You an’ I both know this is more than just a quick fuck to wind down after work. It may not be anything yet, but it’s getting there, and we’ve gotta stop pretending it’s not.”
If Rumlow had rolled his eyes any harder, they would’ve ended up in the back of his head.
“You falling in love with me now, Jackie?” The mocking was half-hearted and they both knew it.
“Maybe. But only because I know you’re already halfway there with me.” He didn’t need to open his eyes again to see Rollins’ shit-eating grin. The pure energy radiating from it was enough.
Brock licked his lips, biting back a retort. He was too tired to deal with this shit right now.
“We’ll talk about this in the morning, Agent.” He huffed out as he flipped himself over, relishing in the cool fabric of the pillow pressed against his face.
“We sure as hell will, Commander.”