Wanda/Brock Rumlow

*** I own nothing. I'm just having fun. ***

Brock tossed back another shot and tried to ignore the noise around him. He'd chosen this little bar thinking it'd be a nice place to get drunk peacefully, but apparently the place was more popular with the locals than it looked. Now the noise of voices, music, and the thunk of glasses hitting the tables was a bit overwhelming.

He'd just about decided he had enough when the door opened and in walked the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Long, dark hair and creamy skin, full lips, and she moved with a grace that drew more eyes than just his. The shawl around her shoulders did little to hide her slim figure, and her hips swayed as she walked.

Walked closer. Shit. His mouth grew dry as she approached, and he couldn't help but stare as she stood next to his seat at the bar and gestured to the bartender. Her voice was husky when she ordered, and it sent a shot of arousal straight to his groin. Fuck.

"You got a problem, asshole?" a man asked as he sidled up to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. This drew her attention, and when she turned he could finally see her eyes were a bright, sparkling green. God, her face took his breath away. "Hey!" the guy yelled at him over the music. "Leave my sister alone," he said, and Brock grinned. His sister.

"I ain't gonna hurt her," he said, unable to control his smile, which seemed to aggravate the man further.

"She wants nothing to do with you, American," the guy said snottily. "Come on, Wanda." He tugged her arm, but she put a hand over his and didn't budge.

"Wait, Pietro," she said. Her gaze focused on him quizzically. "Do I know you from somewhere? You seem... familiar."

Brock's grinned widened as she spoke his words, words he'd been waiting to hear his whole life. He relished the feel of his mark Flaring, undeniable proof she was his, and... "I'm yours, babe," he said, winking at her. "Brock Rumlow." He watched her face change as his words registered, saw her reach for her hip where their marks were located.

"Fuck," Pietro said. The helpless look on his face made Brock laugh, and Pietro rolled his eyes. "I don't care if you are her soulmate. You hurt her, asshole, and I will kill you," he growled. Brock held his hands up in surrender.

"Got no plans to hurt her." His gaze went back to Wanda, who was still looking at him in shock. Brock brushed his fingers over her cheek. "I'm gonna take care of you," he told her. Some of the shock left her face and she lifted her chin.

"My name is Wanda, and you should know this, Brock- I don't need a man to take care of me," she said. "I am not some fragile doll who'll be kept in a box. You need to understand that." The anger and heat in her gaze had him painfully aroused.

"That's good. I love a woman with a mind of her own," he told her. "But I'm still gonna look out for you." The world was a hard place full of hard people, he knew that better than most, and he'd do anything to prevent her pain.

"Awesome," Pietro said, getting both of their attention. "I could use the help. She's a handful." He grinned and she slapped his arm, but the mood was lighter now. "Shall we celebrate with a drink?" he asked his sister, and Brock looked at her, a hint of trepidation forming in his gut. She could choose to walk away, and she was staring at him as if she was considering it. He could only wait helplessly as his nervousness grew.

Whatever she'd been searching for in his face, she apparently found, because a bright smile lit up her features and she leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

"You'll do," she said fondly.