My Brother´s Best Friend (Romantic Rumlow X Reader) Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine – Get Your Fucking Hands Off!!

Mrs.Rumlow? Stupid ass. If it wasn’t for that fucking car, you’d be in New York tomorrow, and now… Now you’re stuck here… With him. For two fucking days. If not more. God, you should’ve found a Greyhound at that Motel. Well, too late for that now anyway. Might as well have a drink or ten in the Hotel bar. Maybe even flirt with some random dude. Get Brock out of your head for a while.

Again you hit the shower. For some reason, it’s easier to think in there. Why is he doing this? Is this just the way he is? Is he like this to everyone? You could ask Jack, but that would probably give you away. Jack is stupid, but he’s not stupid.

You take your time in the shower, washing your hair, the hotel shampoo actually smells pretty good. And they have conditioner. Good, you think to yourself. You’ll never touch your brush again. Stupid Brock, ruining just EVERYTHING! Stop fucking thinking about him, YN!

Should you shave? You decide on yes. You can never know what’s going to happen right. Maybe there actually is some decent looking guys in this Hotel. That isn’t Brock. You could try to see if he gets jealous. You’d be jealous if he found himself a girl. But then again.. You remember, he obviously doesn’t.

You search your suitcase for something that fits with drinks in a hotel bar. Jeans or dress, YN? That is the question. After thinking for a while you decide on dress. The little black one have never failed you. You put on the dress, before fixing your hair and make up. When you’re done, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t look that bad. Dark brown hair, framing your face. Your green eyes, hinting with brown here and there. You look decent enough.

You grab your purse. Check if everything is there, before you open the door. Rumlow stands outside, hand lifted, about to knock. A pair of dark denim jeans, with a black belt, resting on his hips, and a black t shirt, hugging his biceps like it was made for just that. You jump. You really didn’t expect him to stand there.

– Whoa, YN!

– What are you doing here, Brock?

He lets his hand fall down to his side.

– I was wondering if you wanted to join me downstairs. Looks like you had the same idea.

– Well. I didn’t exactly think about you when I made that choice. But I guess it’s company.

He looks you up and down. Before sending you one of his teasing smiles.

– In that outfit. I don’t think you’ll be having trouble finding company. If you know what I mean.

Great. What is he? Like your wingman? Fucking perfect!

– Get out of my way, Brock!

You start to move towards the elevator.

– Oh, come on, YN!

He catches up to you.

– OK! I promise, no more jokes.

You stop. Look at him.

– No more jokes?

– No more! I’ll play nice tonight. I promise!

He extends his hand to you. You look at it for a second, before you shake it. It’s warm and strong. Your mind wander to the magic wand. You take a breath, before you let go of his hand.

– The first joke you crack. I’m out of there. Just so you know.

– Fair enough..

He pushes the button for the elevator..


The bar is half full. It’s easy to find a place to sit down. You find a round table with two chairs by it. Typical hotel bar chairs. Red velour, and armrests that is way too high to actually rest your arms on.

– Do you want anything?

Rumlow stands up.

– Ehh.. What are you having?

– I was thinking beer. It’s been a long day, and well. I’m not gonna be driving tomorrow, so I might as well enjoy myself.

– I’ll just get what you’re having.

– A woman after my own heart…

He says when he turns around and over to the bar to order. You look after him. Was that a joke? It didn’t sound like one. He didn’t use his normal joke voice. God, YN. He was just happy he didn’t have to order you a drink that he cant pronounce. Enjoy yourself. You take a look around at the other guests. Well.. You’ll probably won’t find a guy. Maybe someone will show up later, although you doubt it.

– Here you go. They had three kinds. This is my favorite. Cheers.

He lifts his bottle up. You do the same. Before you both take a sip.

You sit there and talk for a while. Mostly about you selling the house in San Francisco, and SHIELD. You learn alot about Jacks job. It’s not like he ever told you. After you finish your third bottle. Rumlow stands up.

– I… I have to use the… ehh.. The mens room.. Be right back..

– Sure, Brock.. I’m not your babysitter. You’re free to do whatever you want.

He smiles to you. A real smile this time. None of that smirking thing happening.

– I’ll be right back.

You look after him as he walks away. His boxers slightly visible, and that body. God..

– Now what is a bleutifule lady suph as yoseff, dng heve alone?

You jump. And without realising you turn around. You’re usually pretty good at ignoring overly drunk guys. But this one caught you off guard. His stinking red wine breath hits your nostrils, and you instantly feel the need to hold your breath. You turn away from him again.

– I’m not alone!

– Idon schee nobdy!

God. He’s so drunk he can’t even talk properly. This is just your luck. Ignore him, YN. He’ll leave.

– Hey pretty lady Im tashking to yo!

You hold in the urge to hit him with one of the empty bottles on the table. Please, Brock. Come back!

– He’s in the bathroom.

You say, without turning around. Instead of leaving the guy puts a hand on your shoulder.

– Wat me to order yo drak?

Jeez. Just piss off already. You really don’t want to make a scene. But you could if you wanted to. This isn’t the first time someone has been overly friendly with you. God, Brock. Did you like drown in there or something? Just come back already.

– If noth yo can have thich!

The guy lifts his glass of red wine, before dumping it all over you. You jump up.

– Just WHAT is your problem dude!!??

The guy grabs a napkin from the table, and tries to dry the red wine off you. His hands on places you REALLY don’t want them to be.

– Hey! Get your fucking hands off!

You’re starting to get scared. You really shouldn’t be. You know how to handle yourself. You could put this guy to the ground like that. But this is a public place.

– Hey!

Rumlows voice. Finally. You don’t get to think anymore, before Rumlow stands between you and the guy.

– Just what the fuck are you doing with my wife, huh?

Your eyes widening. Wife? He actually called you his wife? Is it because of the whole Mrs. Rumlow joke?

– Shcorry, schorry!

The guy says, while raising his arms in the air. Rumlow almost blows himself up, taking another step towards the guy.

– Get lost!

Rumlow turns towards you. Look at your dress. Then he looks up at you. You look back. Then you look down on your dress. Your cleavage red from the wine. Thank god it was a black dress.

– Come on, YN. Let’s get you out of that! After that we can empty the minibar up in my room.

– Haha.. You really think I’d fall for that?

You say it kinda like a joke. But you’re unsure if he takes it like one.

– Nothing to fall for, YN! I just want you to have a good time. Come on. Let’s go back upstairs. You can take a shower and change, then Come over to my room. Sounds good?

You nod. A couple of drinks you can manage. If he’s not gonna crack jokes all the time.

Thankfully you’re alone in the elevator. Rumlow casually leaning against the wall. You stand by the other wall. Feeling the stinky red wine making your body sticky. Yak..

– Are you OK, YN?

His expression concerned.

– Yeah.. I’m cool. What a loser..

– With your looks, YN. I bet you meet a lot of them.

What? Your looks? What did he mean with that? The doors opens on your floor. You walk in front of him down the hall.

– Did I say something wrong?

Did he?

– Brock?

You say it while still walking, not turning around.

– Yes!

– Why did you say I was your wife?

You can almost see his smile, although your back is against him.

– Well, as long as we are here, you are. Discount, remember?

You turn around.

– Discount? You’d marry me for a fucking discount?

– Hey! It was a joke! Laugh a bit, YN!

– You promised me no fucking jokes. And I’m not your wife!

You reach your door, and enter your keycard.

– And who’s fault is that, YN?

– I’m not your fucking wife, Brock!

– See you in a bit.

– Don’t hold your breath!

You say, before slamming your door shut.

Why can’t he just tell you if he likes you or not?

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