The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon as Beta Squad returned, touching down on the covert base tarmac, they ambled off the helicopter slowly by a mixture of stiff muscles, bloodied wounds, and exhaustion. Rumlow stepped off the aircraft last, whilst beginning to remove his bullet proof vest, the hardest part of the mission had been ride back from the mission. They'd flown to just off the north west coast of South America to take out a group of tactically trained radicals. The flight had been grueling, the heat had been almost overwhelming to the point where Brock had felt himself become light headed multiple times.

Unceremoniously he dropped his Tac bag at his feet, unzipping it, and shoving his vest inside. After taking a moment to remove most of his gear he effortlessly slid the bag back over his right shoulder. At the edges of the field were headlights of cars his men had requested to pick them up. Despite protocol, some were the cars of lovers, wives, friends, and family. Most of the men had immediately walked off the field in full gear, wanting to put as much space between themselves and base as humanly possible. He gazed thoughtfully at the cars as many began to reverse from their parking positions and drive off down a long dirt road that lead back into Los Angeles. The few that remained had made their way over to the hanger to his right and the med building beside it.

Sighing heavily he made his way across the field towards the hanger, his bottom lip had busted open from a hit to the face, he'd been careless, one of his targets' had found an opening to get a good punch in, but that was all he'd got. Rumlow licked his lip, the sharp tang of metal exploded on his tongue and he grit his teeth, Fuck, do I need a drink, he thought as he walked by the hanger. He glanced inside, just at the moment to see Charlie pull a Kevlar vest over her head, she was disrobing her own tac gear, and tossing it into the bag at her feet. Rumlow began to turn away, despite his entertaining exchange with her before she left the helicopter, he'd decided to keep his distance. But as she bent down to close her bag he noticed the violent cut along the side of her throat.

"Hey, you going to med bay?"

She stood up, the strap of her bag hanging from her farthest from him, and she raised an eyebrow. Rumlow, unconsciously, repeated the motion, his lips parted slightly in question at her strange response, to what he considered, a normal question.

"Well?" he pried, crossing his arms and looking at her with his head cocked slightly to the side.

"No, I'm fine." She finally stated as she began walking towards the end of the air field base to leave.

"Woah, woah..." he jogged over to cut her off, hands up in warning at the vicious look she was giving him, he huffed and rested his hands on his hips. "Look, that's too close to your artery and its still bleeding, see the doc."

"I can take care of myself," she stated, her expression relaxed and she crossed her arms, her blue eyes annoyed and impatiently glaring, "Sergeant, move."

Rumlow stared at her for a long moment, his dark brown eyes never leaving her's, when suddenly he began to move ever so slightly, and Charlie attempted to move past, reading it as him giving up.

But she didn't know Rumlow.

As she stepped forward, he stepped in, immediately bringing his right fist around for a sucker punch, and in the last second she saw it, and piveted on her toes in an attempt to block and jump back. This was exactly what he'd been hoping for, for as she responded she left her left guard open. Rumlow seized his chance, wrapping his hand around the back of her bicep and pulling her roughly towards him. Effortlessly, he stepped back as he did so, pulling her back flush to his chest, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Fuck off!" She grunted, stubbornly she tried to break his hold, against his chest she felt a rumbling sensation, as he laughed. She twitched as she felt the rush of hot breath against her ear.

"Sorry, sweetheart but I've been wrestling since high school, you won't break this hold." he stated smugly, pushing towards an opponent always made them push back, using her momentum against her, he was able to obtain the upper hand. He felt her breathing heavily, but her struggling had ceased, as he held her tightly against him. His eyes flicked back to her neck, the reason he'd made such a show of power, and pressed his hand against the wound on her neck, he was gentle, which surprised even himself, and let it rest against the wound. Sure enough, the light pressure brought more blood bubbling from the laceration to smear hotly through his fingers. His eyes narrowed, he'd been right, the cut was far too close to her artery. And within moments, he let her go and she pushed away, turning quickly around, fists raised - a murderous look twisted her delicate features.

"What was that, you pig?" She snapped, her eyes flicking all over him, reading his body signals, slowly she lowered her fists. But her temper was very visibly still boiling beneath the surface. Rumlow felt a pang of irritation snap through him, grimacing he closed his eyes and ran a hand through sweat soaked, greasy hair. He was so fucking tired. His body was sore, dirty, and so irrevocably spent from the fucking heat that all he wanted to do was crash. Fuck, he'd crash right her and just sleep it off on the floor of the goddamn hanger. His eyes opened lazily and he frowned.

"Fuck it, kid. You wanna die, be my guest." he started to move past her deciding he didn't give a fuck, and ignoring the fact that, that meant he had started to in the first place. Making his way to the medical building he was surprised when he heard the echoing taps of another pair of footsteps behind him.

Rumlow smirked, Stubborn fucking kid...he thought, opening the door he looked back to make a snarky comment. But was silenced when a delicate thumb pressed against his swollen, busted lip and reflexively his eyes widened. Charlie's blonde hair curved loosely around her oval face and her lips were quirked in a cruel smirk.

"What are y-" he started, put she moved two fingers below his lip and hooked her thumb inside his bottom lip, jerking it violently, Rumlow grimaced, but his hand was still on the door knob, he groaned sharply and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't you ever touch me again, got that, you piece of shit?" She threatened. Then she let go of his lip and shoved past him, pushing his hand off the door handle and opening it herself.

Rage burned through him as he watched her, his dark brown eyes slits, and the veins that traveled around his arm bulged as his fists tightened. He was going to fucking kill this girl.

"Oh," she paused, leaning back from the other side of the door, her eyes locked with his, holding his burning gaze for a moment before flicking down to rest on his lips. His eyebrows furrowed as the gesture inspired a rarely euphoric sensation surged through his veins from her pointed glance. Then she pointed at his mouth for even more emphasis, "You should really get the doc to look at the lip," her voice teasing as she smirked darkly and continued, "its bleeding pretty badly, Sergeant Rumlow."

And with a click of the door as it shut, she was gone.

Brock slowly pulled his lower lip into his mouth, Son of bitch he thought, it was bleeding again.

XXX.