Rolling his shoulders and abruptly cutting off the hysterical mantra of ’wewillmakeit, wewillmakeit, wewillmakeit’, Rumlow eyed his team. They reflected his own aura of battle-ready professional bullshit back at him. Good - though he wished Billy would stop fingering his gun. This was all good, and they were going to win, they were, because they were the good guys. So good in fact that they made Cap look evil in comparison. But seriously, fuck Pierce and his fucking plans. Overwhelm and neutralise, his ass. Like it was going to be that easy. The fucker.
The beep coming from his watch interrupted his progressively murderous thoughts, and taking it as his cue he gestured for Crippler and others to follow him.
Bill the amateur was still fingering his goddamn gun. But there was no time to chide him now, they had to hurry.
Cap was easily spotted due to his spangly symbol of virtue and righteousness (Rumlow personally thought it made him look like a turtle from behind). He was also already in the elevator.
They all experienced a heart-stopping moment of ‘OH SHIT!’ before Rumlow saved their collective skins by dead-running the short distance and coolly waving his hands at the doors at the last moment. Turning his head he caught Crippler’s gaze, and they shared a look of mutual terrified relief. “Strange personnel on si-”
It was too soon to feel relieved after all, because a second, proper look into the elevator made him wish that they’d lost the mark.
Detaching himself noisily from Cap’s mouth, Stark shot them an annoyed look over Cap’s shoulder. “Do you mind?”
When Rumlow just blinked at them, Stark pointedly gave the ass-cheeks in his clutches a very meaningful and lazy squeeze.
Speechless and feeling rather unsure, Rumlow automatically stepped back out of the elevator, nearly elbowing a wide eyed Billy in the kidney.
He kept blinking until his view of the fondling and mockingly wriggling fingers were obscured by the doors finally closing.
Turning to Crippler, whose right eyebrow didn’t seem to be coming back down any time soon from where it was stuck to his hairline, Rumlow jabbed a questioning finger in the general direction of the craziness they’d just witnessed. This so was not in the files.
He got a nonplussed shrug in response.
Well, shit. How the hell were they going to capture Captain Boy Toy with his sugar daddy present? Wait, who the hell was doing the cradle-robbing in this relationship, anyway? That was a mind-fuck if there ever was one.
“Uhm, boss? Shouldn’t we tell the others-”
Rumlow cursed as he brought up his wrist to frantically push the buttons on his watch. “All agents, abort! Code Turtle, Abort! ”
“All agents, abort! Code Turtle, Abort!”
Charlie exchanged an alarmed look with Drake and Will (he didn’t know the others, they’d only Hail Hydra-d each other in passing). But the boss had said ‘abort’ and not ‘Hail Hydra! Proceed anyway’, so that meant it was only a delay. The shit had not hit the fan. Probably.
Adjusting his sweaty grip on the suitcase, he was debating whether legging it would get him an AWOL, when the elevator pinged open.
The noise was the first thing that assaulted their senses. Groans and...
Someone was half sitting on the handrails, half hanging off Captain America, groaning like he was dying. Whether it was due to the lack of oxygen or the slow hip action, Charlie’s shocked mind couldn't say.
Will's loud whisper of “What the f…” trailed off as the moaning limpet, with Tony Stark’s miles wide shit eating grin™, put his chin on Cap’s shoulder, and winked at them.
Apparently even Eternal Virgin Saints weren't safe from Tony Stark.
They stood awkwardly while the female voice repeated the destination floor and the doors closed. Or tried to, but got stuck halfway, bounced open to show them some necking was going on, then just as they heard a muffled snort, finally slid shut.
Behind him the others were fidgeting.
He could swear he heard muffled laughter coming from the elevator.
He was also neither paid, nor trained enough for this shit.
“No more unicorns for Captain America then.”
Damn, there went the 50 bucks.
It just wasn't his day.
“Man, that was hot.”
“Shut up, Will.”
“Have you done it?”
“I’m doing what I-”
“Are you doing it?”
“Yes, if you’ll-”
“Why is it taking so goddamn long?!”
“I can hear them now!” the agent exclaimed from the other side of line.
“And!?” Rumlow snapped, pressing his watch closer to his ear.
Furrowing his eyebrows, he shot a look at his watch.
“They’re on my floor, boss. Should I expect any- Holy shiiiii …”
Rumlow cut the connection with a disgusted huff.
They were apparently evolving with every floor they traumatised. And laughing at them the whole time. It was a plan. They were found out. He knew it. But try telling it to Pierce. The wrinkly fucker.
“I need a drink.”
Crippler, understanding soul that he was, put a commiserating hand on his shoulder and didn’t Hail-Hydra him. Right now, Rumlow was pretty sure he’d head butt anyone who tried that shit. “Can’t get drunk on duty. Coffee?”
Rumlow nodded, sighing heavily. “Coffee.”