Home Sweet Home (Rumlow X Reader) Chapter One!

Chapter One – Something Just Like This!

Shit, the weather man wasn’t lying when he said this would be a hot day. You lock the door to work, and move towards your car. Why did you chose to move back to Texas again? Oh, yeah. Because your boss in New York was a total asshole, and so was your mothers new boyfriend. So you had no choice but to ask your dad if you could stay with him.

Thankfully he said yes, although you suspected that he didn’t like it too much. You moving into his house, taking parts of his private life away. But he gave you a job, doing inventory at his delivery business. And he sometimes took long trips to deliver stuff, so you had the house to yourself now and then.

Like now. Your dad was on a trip to Chicago, and would be gone for at least another week. Perfect, with these temperatures the air condition would probably stop working. And you had no idea how to fix it. At least you had a pool in your backyard, you could cool off there.

Thank God it’s Friday, and you have two days off work. You could really use a beer right about now. The only problem, you’re only 20. It’s stupid really. You’ve been able to drive a car since you were 16, but you can’t buy beer. You could try, but the Rollins name is a well known name in these parts, so you probably won’t be able too. Well, let’s hope your dad have something in his liquor cabinet at home.

You open the drivers door to your car, and the hot air from inside hits you like fire. Fuck. You roll down your windows the instant you turn on your car. You’d never be able to drive home otherwise. You crank up the music, before you start to drive home.

It’s not long, about a 15 minutes drive. But you feel like it takes forever. You just want to get back home, and change into a bikini or something, and chill by the pool. You can feel your shirt sticking to your back, as you turn into the driveway. A PickUp truck is parked in your spot, and the garage door is open. Your dad didn’t say anything about visitors. Is someone breaking in?

You park the car, and turn off the engine, before you slowly exit the car. Should you call the cops? Probably not, at least see who it is first. Your dad is well off, and that is well known around these parts. Someone could break in. Maybe you should call.

You pick up your phone, and call 911.

– 911 what’s your emergency?

A lady answers.

– Yeah, it’s YN Rollins, I think someone is breaking into my house.

You’re almost whispering, hiding behind the PickUp truck.

– Ok, stay where you are, mam. What’s your address?

You give her your address.

– I’ll send a car right away. Do you know if they’re armed?

Armed? Fuck, you didn’t think of that.

– No, I don’t know!

You answer.

– Ok, mam. Do you have any firearms in the house?

Do you have firearms? This is fricking Texas, of course you have firearms.

– Mam, Do you have firearms in your house?

The lady asks again.

– Yes! We have some.

You answer.

– A car will be at your address in ten minutes. Just stay where you are mam.

You hang up, and almost immediately after you hear something falling to the floor in the garage. Sounds like something metal. You move towards the sound. You know they told you to stay put, but you’re too curious not to.

You fish your pepperspray up from your purse, and take a hold of it. You’ve been carrying pepperspray for some time now. New York at night isn’t exactly the safest place for young girls. And pepperspray made you feel a bit safer. Around these parts, no one dared to mess with you. The Rollins name came with a deep respect in Texas.

You keep moving towards the sounds in the garage, slowly, careful not to make any noise. You kinda hope that the cops will arrive before you encounter whoever’s in your garage. Maybe you should call your dad? No, he’d probably be scared out of his mind for you, and double back.

You keep moving towards the sound. What the fuck are they stealing? Your dads tools? God, please don’t have a gun. As you enter the garage, you can see someone moving. You prepare your pepperspray.

Just a couple more steps..

You lift your pepperspray, as you round the corner.

– The cops are on their way!

You yell, as you lift the pepperspray, spraying the persons face. He screams, covering his face.

– YN! What the hell are you doing?

He says, desperately trying to shield his face.

– Brock?

You say, surprised.

– God, I’m so sorry!

You continue, as you hand him a bottle of water for him to wash some of the pepperspray of.

– What are you doing here?

– I’m fixing Jacks car. But no one told me that I was in danger of being peppered down.

He says, pouring water on his face.

– God, Brock. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were like… Going to be here.

You take a look at his face. Thankfully he got to wash most of it off, but he’s still red around the eyes.

– So, do you usually carry pepperspray and spray people down?

He asks.

– This is actually the first time I’ve used it. I’m sorry…

– Well, I’m honoured!

He says, with a smile. Thank God, for Brocks humor.

Sirens approaching. You suddenly feel really embarrassed.

– Wait? You called the cops on me?

Brock looks at you.

– I’m sorry. I tell them it was a mistake.

You walk out of the garage, Brock follows.

– You sure know how to welcome people, YN!

You feel beyond embarrassed when you tell the officers about the mistake.

You actually called the cops on Brock. Your dads best friend. Someone you’ve known your entire life. You still remember how Brock used to tell the best stories, when you came to visit your dad. Brock is no thief. How come you didn’t check who it was first? This hot weather is messing with your mind.

When the cops leaves, you turn towards Brock again. He is shirtless, his toned skin glistening with sweat, and his work pants resting on his hips, revealing the lining of his boxers. Some dark spots here and there on his upper body and his face, probably from the oil. Fucking God! Did he look this good the last time you saw him?

– Look at you! All grown up!

He says.

– Err.. Yeah.. You too.. Err.. I mean…

You have no idea what to say. His looks. God. Like straight out of heaven.

– Hey, don’t think about the pepperspray..

He says, giving you a hug.

– Or the cops..

He continues.

– Well, you can feel a bit bad for the pepperspray.

He adds.

– Oh my God!

You say, looking at his face again. He’s flaming red around the eyes.

– I’ll help you with that. Just come inside, and I’ll see what I can do to help.

In the living room, you tell him to sit down on the couch, before you go and grab some soap and shampoo from the bathroom, to rinse with.

You sit down next to him, using some of your supplies to wash his face. You try not to look at his bare upper body, but it’s almost impossible. His muscles, six pack. Some tattoos on his upper arms. Have he been working out like 12 times a week? It should be illegal to look this good.

– At least there is nothing wrong with your aim.

He suddenly says. You’re so focused on not to look at him, that his voice makes you jump.

– Huh?

You say.

– Although you should work on your welcoming skills.

He laughs a bit. You always liked Brocks humor. He always made you laugh when you were younger. But now, in this particular situation, he makes you extremely nervous.

– Well, no one told me you’d be around. I thought you were a burglar!

He laughs again.

– At least I can tell Jack, that he doesn’t need to get a guard dog.

Finally you manage to laugh with him. You laugh until your stomach and your chin hurts. Before you once again look at him. The red around the eyes looks a bit better now. You lift your hand, and touch his temple.

– Does it hurt?

He smiles.

– I’ll live. Hey. I have some beers in my truck. Say we have some, and forget about this whole burglary thing.

– I…

You start.

– I know you’re only 20, YN. But I know for a fact that never stopped Jack. If it did, I don’t think you’d even be born. So I know he won’t mind.

You smile, and nod.

You always had a good almost friend like relationship with your parents friends. Could be because they were really young when you were born. It’s only 20 years between you and your dad, and only 18 between you and your mom. So when you reached 16, and started to drive, you actually picked them up from parties. Probably not the best parental work. But you didn’t mind. You actually thought it was cool, and your friends thought so too.

– I’m just gonna have a shower. Looks like you could use one as well.

You gather all the supplies from before, and walk towards the bathroom.

– Just let me know when you’re done. Want some food?

You can hear him say, when you lock the bathroom door behind you.

– There’s a menu on the fridge!

You yell back, before you eagerly get out of your sweaty work clothes.

When you come out of the shower again, you realise that you didn’t bring new clothes. Fuck! This whole heatwave thing, and Brock all sweaty and sexy really messed with your mind. You wrap a towel around you, and carefully open the door. Brock isn’t in the living room. Thank God for that, you hurry up the stairs, and towards your room.

When you’re almost at your door, the door to the upstairs bathroom opens, and Brock comes out, wet from the shower with a towel around his waist. You jump so much that you choke on your own saliva, and calf like crazy. Brock pats your back.

– Hey, you OK? I didn’t mean to scare you.

You look at him again. Fuck that body, and with wet hair. God! How old is he now? 40? No, he’s older than your dad. 44? 46? Stop it, YN!

– Yes, I’m fine.. I Just need some clothes.

He looks at you, concerned.

– Meet you downstairs then. The food will be here soon.

You walk into your room, and put on some new clothes. Food? Drinks? What is this? Like a date?

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