Rumlow shut the door, pausing for a moment, facing it. He took a deep breath, inhaling slowly, feeling the air inflate his lungs fully, like he had learned and practiced through hundreds of hours of martial arts training. Centered, he felt his feet press against the floor, the cool metal of the door under his hand. Letting the breath go, he flicked the deadbolt and turned.
Pierce was standing next to the camera, loosening his tie.
Rumlow’s face creased with a frown. He said softly, “What are you doing, Secretary?”
Pierce looked at him, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. “I thought,” he started to say, “we were going to…”
Despite himself, Rumlow smiled. At the sight of that smile, Pierce’s words faded off. Rumlow thought to himself, Pierce does not get it yet, but he is going to. By god, he is going to.
Rumlow shook his head, taking three steps over and closing the distance between them. He put his hand on Pierce’s, guiding it away from the Windsor knot. “You are not here to think.”
Pierce opened his mouth, his eyes widening as he stepped back, his back coming up against the wall. He pulled his hand out from under Rumlow’s. “You…” he began. Rumlow noticed that Pierce’s hand was shaking. Not much, but he noticed details like that. He noticed the way Pierce was unbalanced, the set of his shoulders, the way he held his weight on his right leg, his non-dominant leg.
Rumlow stepped in closer so his face was just inches from Pierce’s and Pierce leaned back against the wall. “I think,” Rumlow said, his voice a low growl, “that you think too much, Secretary. Your mind is running on it’s little hamster wheel. Making plans inside plans. Secrets that have secrets.” He was wearing fingerless gloves and he reached up, running the leather back across the side of Pierce’s face. Pierce flinched. “The Asset, he doesn’t think, not like that. He feels. He reacts. He is.”
Pierce’s eyes narrowed and Rumlow ran his thumb along the creases that formed in the corners of the older man’s eyes. “That still what you want, Secretary? The Asset’s rules?” Abruptly, Rumlow stepped back, dropping his hand.
Pierce let out an explosive breath, watching Rumlow. Rumlow crossed his arms and waited, his weight tipped back on his heels. Then, Pierce pushed himself up away from the wall so he was standing firmly on both feet. Deliberately, he re-tightened the knot of his tie. Standing straight, he said, “I am disappointed in you, Brock. You aren’t usually one to question orders.”
Rumlow shook his head in amazement. The Secretary was un-fucking-believable. And still not getting it. With a bit of a laugh, he drew a baton and pointed at the space in front of the camera. “Then let’s get started, Secretary,” he said.
He watched as Pierce took the two steps over to where he pointed. Pierce was cocky and confident, the uncertainty gone. Rumlow was pretty sure that was an act, but he’d find out, soon enough. Casually, he swung the baton, hitting the Pierce in the back of the shins, making his legs buckle so he fell to his knees. Pierce looked up at him, startled, and for a moment the façade cracked. Rumlow thought he saw fear flicker there, but then the mask was back. Bringing the baton up under Pierce’s chin, Rumlow growled, “Let’s review the rules. There are just two. First, you mind your manners, Secretary,” he half spat out the title. “You call me ‘sir’. Comprendez?”
As he watched, Pierce nodded, but then he amended, “Yes, sir.” It was almost comical. Rumlow had seen recruits in Basic make the same mistake.
“Second. Eyes. I like eye contact. You look at me. If you can’t look at me, you look at the camera. Got it?”
“I’m not…you can’t…” There, the mask was cracking as Pierce’s eyes flickered between Rumlow and the camera.
Rumlow frowned, stepping closer to Pierce. “The tape is not blackmail, Secretary. When this is done, it’s yours.”
Pierce looked up at him. “You give your…”
Rumlow shook his head in warning, poking the baton in the center of Pierce’s chest, knocking him off balance and back onto his heels. “If you finish that sentence, Secretary, we are through. You are walking right out that door.”
Pierce licked his lips. The he looked directly into Rumlow’s eyes. “Yes sir,” he answered slowly, letting the words form on his lips. “I understand. I look at you or the camera.”
Reaching out with his left hand, Rumlow touched Pierce’s cheek. “Good boy,” he said with a smile. The word ‘boy’ almost caught in his throat. What the hell was he doing? Swallowing quickly to cover the wave of panic that boiled up from somewhere in his stomach, he turned away from Pierce and went over to switch on the camera.
Re: Rumlow/Pierce Part 2
Rumlow shut the door, pausing for a moment, facing it. He took a deep breath, inhaling slowly, feeling the air inflate his lungs fully, like he had learned and practiced through hundreds of hours of martial arts training. Centered, he felt his feet press against the floor, the cool metal of the door under his hand. Letting the breath go, he flicked the deadbolt and turned.
Pierce was standing next to the camera, loosening his tie.
Rumlow’s face creased with a frown. He said softly, “What are you doing, Secretary?”
Pierce looked at him, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. “I thought,” he started to say, “we were going to…”
Despite himself, Rumlow smiled. At the sight of that smile, Pierce’s words faded off. Rumlow thought to himself, Pierce does not get it yet, but he is going to. By god, he is going to.
Rumlow shook his head, taking three steps over and closing the distance between them. He put his hand on Pierce’s, guiding it away from the Windsor knot. “You are not here to think.”
Pierce opened his mouth, his eyes widening as he stepped back, his back coming up against the wall. He pulled his hand out from under Rumlow’s. “You…” he began. Rumlow noticed that Pierce’s hand was shaking. Not much, but he noticed details like that. He noticed the way Pierce was unbalanced, the set of his shoulders, the way he held his weight on his right leg, his non-dominant leg.
Rumlow stepped in closer so his face was just inches from Pierce’s and Pierce leaned back against the wall. “I think,” Rumlow said, his voice a low growl, “that you think too much, Secretary. Your mind is running on it’s little hamster wheel. Making plans inside plans. Secrets that have secrets.” He was wearing fingerless gloves and he reached up, running the leather back across the side of Pierce’s face. Pierce flinched. “The Asset, he doesn’t think, not like that. He feels. He reacts. He is.”
Pierce’s eyes narrowed and Rumlow ran his thumb along the creases that formed in the corners of the older man’s eyes. “That still what you want, Secretary? The Asset’s rules?” Abruptly, Rumlow stepped back, dropping his hand.
Pierce let out an explosive breath, watching Rumlow. Rumlow crossed his arms and waited, his weight tipped back on his heels. Then, Pierce pushed himself up away from the wall so he was standing firmly on both feet. Deliberately, he re-tightened the knot of his tie. Standing straight, he said, “I am disappointed in you, Brock. You aren’t usually one to question orders.”
Rumlow shook his head in amazement. The Secretary was un-fucking-believable. And still not getting it. With a bit of a laugh, he drew a baton and pointed at the space in front of the camera. “Then let’s get started, Secretary,” he said.
He watched as Pierce took the two steps over to where he pointed. Pierce was cocky and confident, the uncertainty gone. Rumlow was pretty sure that was an act, but he’d find out, soon enough. Casually, he swung the baton, hitting the Pierce in the back of the shins, making his legs buckle so he fell to his knees. Pierce looked up at him, startled, and for a moment the façade cracked. Rumlow thought he saw fear flicker there, but then the mask was back. Bringing the baton up under Pierce’s chin, Rumlow growled, “Let’s review the rules. There are just two. First, you mind your manners, Secretary,” he half spat out the title. “You call me ‘sir’. Comprendez?”
As he watched, Pierce nodded, but then he amended, “Yes, sir.” It was almost comical. Rumlow had seen recruits in Basic make the same mistake.
“Second. Eyes. I like eye contact. You look at me. If you can’t look at me, you look at the camera. Got it?”
“I’m not…you can’t…” There, the mask was cracking as Pierce’s eyes flickered between Rumlow and the camera.
Rumlow frowned, stepping closer to Pierce. “The tape is not blackmail, Secretary. When this is done, it’s yours.”
Pierce looked up at him. “You give your…”
Rumlow shook his head in warning, poking the baton in the center of Pierce’s chest, knocking him off balance and back onto his heels. “If you finish that sentence, Secretary, we are through. You are walking right out that door.”
Pierce licked his lips. The he looked directly into Rumlow’s eyes. “Yes sir,” he answered slowly, letting the words form on his lips. “I understand. I look at you or the camera.”
Reaching out with his left hand, Rumlow touched Pierce’s cheek. “Good boy,” he said with a smile. The word ‘boy’ almost caught in his throat. What the hell was he doing? Swallowing quickly to cover the wave of panic that boiled up from somewhere in his stomach, he turned away from Pierce and went over to switch on the camera.