pineslog | I can't help it, man! I'm all about stupid!

Entry tags:

I can't help it, man! I'm all about stupid!

Who: Kenzi Malikov and EVERYONE?!
Where: The nail salon, Rumlow's gym, Steve/Nat/Bucky's house, Main Street
When: April 1st to 5th
What: Catch all log for shenanigans, bonding, mischief, and conspiracy theories
Warnings: Will update as needed.
[Open]

I will match your tag style, prose or action! Either is fine!

Getcho nails did

Work for a living? Does she look like a chump?

...Apparently the answer is yes, because she DOES have a job. She doesn't remember ever applying, but she also definitely remembers working here and doing peoples nails and actually having fun most of the time. It's a creative outlet and it gets her off the couch and out of the house. Working doesn't give her time to mourn the loss of video games she thought she had and ... a person she just can't quite remember. Plus, she's got actual bills to pay now. She's not squatting in a crack shack with--... SOMEONE! Who is it?

It's fine. It's probably not important. She's got a life to worry about. A fresh start. Who needs to steal and con when you can apply rhinestones to peoples fingernails for eight hours a day? Hard work. Honest... work.

Whatever. It's fine. Come on in, sit down at her station, and let her rescue your cuticles. Damn.

He's never coming out.

Kenzi is starting to think she married a workaholic. Which is honestly hilarious considering she is the exact opposite. Of course, it's not all work for Rumlow. He gets to do pretty much his favourite thing ever, which for some reason is lifting weights and getting sweaty and teaching other people how to lift weights and get sweaty until everyone is just lifting things for HOURS! It smells like gym class in there. Probably because... it's a gym. A gym that is open FOREVER which means he leaves the house early and doesn't come back until late.

Eventually, it occurs to Kenzi that she actually misses her husband when he's not home, and that leads to her either visiting him while he's at work and she's on lunch or waiting outside until he's done work so they can head home together.

Watching people get buff gets boring after a while. Seriously, there's only so much ogling a girl can do before she starts to get antsy. Rumlow's busy. There's no way she's gonna touch the equipment when she could just be sitting around instead. The railing out front is a good a spot as any. Fresh air, peace and quiet, lot's of-- UGH, it's boring out here TOO! Someone please talk to her before her eyes roll out of her skull.

How do you even neighbour?

Knock Knock! Now that everyone's no longer dying, Kenzi finally got to bake a fresh batch of cookies to deliver to her neighbours. Okay, mostly they're for Steve, but she knows Bucky's probably going to inhale a few and she'd be super stoked if Nat had some. She hasn't actually talked to Steve since the "accident" and she hasn't seen Bucky or Nat since the party.

Enough of her memory is back that she's... conflicted... about things. Some stuff just doesn't add up, some stuff feels too real to not be true! It's hard to sort out. Kinda makes her head hurt. What she does know is that Steve was super freaking nice to her and she didn't even recognize him and she needs to do something nice to apologize/pay him back. She also knows that she really does care about Bucky, even if he's mad at her for a stupid reason.

Even if he might not actually... be...

No. Nope. Don't go there. Shake it off, Kenzi. Smile.

She continues to wait patiently with the container of cookies in her hands.

Choose your own adventure!

Not feeling any of the above? Hit me up with something else!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Agents? Like insurance agents? Or... the... secret kind? Because if it's that last one, she's gotta be the most amazingly skilled, super secretive agent that ever lived if even SHE didn't know about it. It's not even like she can rule it out! Not remembering something doesn't necessarily mean it's not real. At least, not here. She does remember working some shady jobs for her Russian fam back home. But those were just for a quick payout!

His arm does give off that reassuring vibe and she winds up circling both of her arms around his waist and squeezing him back as they walk. Maybe she could have forgotten. Maybe he's just mistaken, but there's really no way to tell for sure and no easy way to lay it all out with eyes and ears in unknown places. Anything could be the truth. She has NO idea who she really is right now.

Also shut up about the bathroom incident, SHE WAS SHOCKED!

"I kinda feel like we should just compare notes. You know, like, write out all the shit we remember as of right now and trade papers and see what matches up?" It's the best she can come up with. "I mean, what if I'm NOT actually allergic to peanuts and it's just been a cover this whole time and I've been depriving myself of peanut butter cups for literally no reason?"

"I don't think it would be wise to write where things can be seen," Rumlow replies, but he gets the sentiment. If her memories are having a harder time catching up, that's an easy way to see what's missing. Might even trigger a few into coming back. Hers or his, he'd be grateful for either.

It's a little awkward to walk like this, he notes, as Kenzi wraps around him and he slows, smiling down at her as if fond of her affections. He tips her face up and gives her a soft kiss. (He likes it, but they have to keep up pretenses.)

"Might be best to believe the peanut allergy until we find a doctor who'll actually answer questions instead of dodge them," he says, sweeping a hand through her hair.

"But we should be out of earshot here. If you wanna list things, go ahead." Might be best for her to start, since she's the one bereft of the most, so maybe he can work off of what she does know to build reasoning for his theory.

It's not awkward to walk like this, it's cute as fuck! Also cute as fuck is the kiss-- ... Which Kenzi immediately questions. Is it a fake kiss? Is the kiss literally just for keeping up appearances? Because she liked it. It felt super 'in the moment'. His hand in her hair calms some of her doubts, but there's still that nagging feeling in the back of her skull.

She hides it well, however. Better than some of her other reactions as of late. This is serious. If they ARE on some kind of mission, they need to focus and keep their heads above water. Even if it's just Rumlow that's the agent, she doesn't want to be a liability or blow his cover or any of that shit. Saying the wrong thing to someone could end up with him dead or them getting separated and neither of those options are okay with her.

"There's a lot, lately. Like I remember my childhood and shit that conflicts with the memories I have of summers with Bucky, but that still feels real. I remember leaving home real young. Like, reaaaaaal young. Living on the streets. Stealing. Working for another cousin, Dima. I lifted wallets, hustled pool, I can-- I can hot wire a car. Pick locks?" That's thief shit. It's not secret agent mission stuff. She doesn't have a cool laser pen like James Bond or anything!

"I was living with someone... in this house. Condemned crack shack. It was-- after that a lot of it stops making sense and I don't--" Know how sane I am. She doesn't say it out loud. She can't. He's already got Jefferson's instability to deal with. "It just doesn't work out right, the rest of it. Oh, also? Not a nail technician. High school dropout. So. You really know how to pick 'em."

Somehow Kenzi telling Rumlow her story has him feeling familiarity. He doesn't show it save a brief twitch of his brows, letting her finish before he adds his two cents. The last part sure doesn't sound like an agent, unless she's remembering a cover job, like this one. High school drop out isn't a red flag or anything, all kinds get hired for their practical skills rather than their educational ones.

He hums in thought, staring out at the treeline, scrubbing at the stubble on his cheeks. He's still missing huge gaps in his childhood, but he remembers a few things. The streets of New York, fights, picking up a gun for the first time. There's other stuff too, but it feels too off to be right. Things that go against SHIELD. Rumlow shakes his head.

"Stuff from your childhood might be real. Because the stuff with Bucky can't be," he says, knowing this is about to throw Kenzi for a loop. Hell, it still throws him. "Your cousin was in the military, right? That's how he knows me." Though Rumlow doesn't know if that's the truth -- the source of Bucky's enmity towards him is largely a mystery.

Great. Awesome. The only good part of her childhood isn't real. That's just FREAKING WONDERFUL! She figured as much, honestly. Literally too good to be true. Not recognizing Steve at first, despite apparently tagging along behind all three of them. It's crafted. Fictional. She laughs, humourless and a little spiteful at her own damn optimism. So much for having family she actually likes.

"Yeah. That's how I remember it. Him and Steve, and then he introduced us and..." The rest is fake history. They both know what happened after that. "What makes you so sure it can't be?"

If Rumlow's found the trick to knowing what's real and what's not, she needs to know. If he's just got info that fills in the gaps, she wants that, too. It's driving her crazy, all this conflicting information floating around in her head. Also this place, the people, all the lies and the blatantly obvious cover up procedure they have posted around the actual town? It's ridiculous. Seriously, it's bullshit. Makes her want to revolt.

Makes her want to start some shit.

"I'm sorry, Kenzi," Rumlow says. He wishes that she could have something nice to remember, having a distinct sensation that a rotten childhood sucks. Maybe it applies to him, but Rumlow can't be sure. He's just got to go with his gut. He strokes her hair again, reassured at least that his gut tells her that this affection he has for her feels real at least. That's why he thinks they must have something shared beyond this life here.

"James Buchanan Barnes is, or rather, was a member of an elite squad fighting Nazis back in World War II. Rogers... was their leader. He's kinda complicated." Understatement. "I work with him, when I'm not... here."

It's Bucky's apparent hatred of him that keeps Rumlow away from Steve, even if he knows the guy is around somewhere. If he goes with his theory that everyone's memories have been jacked with somehow, or are at least playing a cover, he doesn't want to risk either exposing Steve or antagonizing him somehow -- whatever he doesn't know, he'll let come to light with time.

"Anyway, Bucky was supposed to have died back during World War II. I honestly have no idea how he's around. But there's no way it isn't him. He's identical, goes by the same name, and unless there's some kind of... cloning or something even freakier than the surveillance going on here, it's got to be him."

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!?

Kenzi's jaw drops. She's really tanking the attempt to be subtle here. This is bullshit. This is way too unbelievable. This is like the shit in her head about sword-wielding dudes with severed heads and plunging the severed head into a fire. You know, things you can only dream up!

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Hold the fuck up. You're trying to tell me that Bucky, my Bucky, was in World War II? Fighting Nazis. And Steve was there, too, but then also works with you? Were you fighting Nazis? Because, like... I mean, I knew you were old, but that's insane!!" She can't process this. There is no way. Maybe Rumlow's brains are just as scrambled as the rest of them! Even the smartest, most cool, calm, collected dude she knows is batshit and they're all doomed!

"Brock, who even are you?" She has no idea anymore. And they're MARRIED!

Moving in close to obscure Kenzi's face from any lurking cameras, Rumlow's hand comes down to press at the small of her back. Keeps her close, reminds her of where they are. He hopes she can reel it in, despite the incredulity of his claim. He knows it's a big bomb to drop, but unless he starts tearing up the surveillance equipment in the house, this is the only place he can do it.

"No, I'm -- look. Remember when you told me about the 'joke,' on Bucky's cake? 100 years old? That's because he was born in 1917."

He's good with numbers, and he knows his SSR history. It's sort of ingrained in every agent when they join SHIELD, since they were its predecessors. Of course, that year doesn't add up with the current year for him, but he's not going into details, the point still stands. It's about the only 'proof' he really has anyway.

"You said you remembered Rogers when he was little, right? Skinny dude, totally looked like he could break if the wind blew too hard?" Rumlow knows this from the SSR too. As if this didn't already sound insane, it's about to get worse. "Reason he's so big now ain't puberty. He stuck himself into an experiment way back in the 40s to fight in the war. Long story short, he got himself frozen in a block of ice for 70 years and was recently thawed a few years back. That's when he joined up with my team in SHIELD."

Rumlow pauses, sliding his hands up Kenzi's arms, as if they're talking about something intimate rather than secrets they'd likely get arrested for.

"It's an international peacekeeping organization, I'm lead of the spec ops team within the group. Rogers is acting commander when he's needed."

"That joke was a joke!" How the fuck could he have been born in 1917? Even if all the memories of growing up with him were fake, he couldn't be 100 years old. There's no way. It's just not possible.

... Just like people turning into animals isn't possible. Just like vampires aren't real. Sirens don't wear stupid hats. Hot bartenders don't eat dudes' faces in elevators.

Frozen in a block of ice sounds an awful lot like some kind of fairy tale or weird plot device in an action movie. If Rumlow wasn't soothing her with his hand on her back or rubbing her arms, she'd probably be having some kind of mental breakdown on the ground trying to fit all this shit together and pick out anything with a shred of truth to it. It's not so much that it's jarring or shattering her entire world, because that's been fragmented since the accident. It's just that there's so much to process. So many conflicting scenarios and too much information and she doesn't know if she can rely on any of it.

She clings to the hem of Rumlow's shirt, trying to get her expression back to some sort of neutrality. She ends up staring at her hands, at his chest, anything but his face or the lens of a camera. She's pensive, at least. Not floored anymore.

"So you're not military. You're... the UN on steroids?" An agent. Like the kind that handle things before they get ugly. The ones you don't see in the news. Spy movie shit. And Steve's part of that? Where does Bucky fit in? Where does she fit in?

There really isn't more that Rumlow can say to convince her, not without finding some kind of photographic evidence. If she can't believe Bucky isn't her cousin, or that he's a World War II veteran, then he'll let that lie. He doesn't have an explanation on how he's alive now anyway. At least Rogers has an excuse.

It must be rough for Kenzi, Rumlow knows. Having so many solid truths just pulled out from beneath you. At least he remembers enough of his former life and that it's just extreme enough for him to accept stranger concepts, such as super soldier serums and being frozen in ice. Kenzi's got no such advantage though, and he's not about to get impatient with her because her brain's having a hard time wrapping around it. He keeps giving her physical comfort because that's about all he can do.

"Well, the UN does have military forces, but sorta. There's just a whole lot less red tape than them. And we deal with shit that's more intense than insurgents with AKs."

Which is about the gist of it, if he doesn't want to get into details like the Avengers Initiative or the attack on New York. Stick to a little bit at a time.

More intense? How do you get more intense than that? It's not that she doubts him, quite the opposite, actually. It makes more sense than him owning a boxing gym. He is way too badass for that. The Bucky and Steve shiz, well, she'll just have to grill them at some point. Feel it out. Bucky not being related is believable enough. Why should she get to keep anything good in her life? Fuck you, universe.

Even this... Her and Brock, it's fragile. Temporary. Held together by mutual affection but not much else. She doesn't want to lose him. She doesn't want this to just be a cover or a fluke, but it doesn't make sense any other way.

"There's... some other stuff." One more thing she has to tell him while she still can. Something she's not sure he's going to believe, but after hearing all that stuff about dudes frozen in ice for decades, he might take it pretty well. "I remember seeing-- being around and seeing and... fighting? People that could... do stuff. You know? Stuff they shouldn't be able to do."

How the fuck is she supposed to explain this and not sound insane?

Rumlow tilts his head, listening attentively to her. He recalls hearing something about enhanced people in the past, but there's nothing concrete in his memories to rely on. Maybe Kenzi can shed some light on it, because that's sure what it sounds like she's describing.

"Well, I was just telling you about a guy we know being frozen for 70 years, so shoot."

It's not like she can really surprise him that much. Rumlow likes to think of himself as pretty open-minded. Sure, there's a healthy dose of skepticism, but it's been more directed towards this town than anything else -- save Bucky. He's still a mystery.

"Okay, you asked for it." He's got a point, but this shit is a little more whacked out than ice cube people. "There's these two guys, and they're cops but also not cops. They have like. I don't know, magic? Powers? Not straight up comic book shit, but something close to it. The one guy turns into a wolf, but I think we're friends?"

Definitely friends. She's more sure of that when she thinks about it, focuses on it. She's been trying to block a lot of this shit out because thinking about it is acknowledging that it could be real and that's just impossible. Right?

"The other guy does stuff with his voice. Like sings... stuff... and it's painful. Or alluring." He's done it to her. She remembers that. Locked in a house with... with a spider? And a girl-- ... that brown eyed, blue eyed girl.

"... Bo." Her name is Bo. Kenzi's chest suddenly feels like it's going to burst or cave in, there's this crushing, painful feeling in her heart and it shakes her to her core. Tears silently stream down her face and she doesn't even notice until her cheeks feel wet.

"I forgot about Bo."

When Kenzi launches into it, Rumlow just goes into listening mode. Stands there, gently touching her as if they're sharing intimacies between them rather than delving into memories buried by God only knows what. Kenzi isn't wrong about what she's saying sounding odd. Cops but not cops, magic, probable werewolves. It doesn't stop there, either, continuing to list of things that ought to be in a young adult novel instead of reality.

And yet, really, Rumlow can't bring himself not to believe her. She's got no reason to lie, for one -- it would only make her seem incompetent. And two, he's aware of the existence of Gods, so. Cops that turn into wolves? Not that unbelievable. Probably not very common, at least. It's weird to picture, and it throws his theories about Kenzi in a new direction, but he can manage.

What he isn't so great at is when she clearly remembers someone important to her and starts to cry. This is not good. Rumlow is terrible with criers. He sort of shifts his face into something resembling sympathy (though he does feel bad on a conceptual level, it's hard to get there emotionally).

"Hey, it's all right. We've both forgotten people," he says, hands at her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. "Tell me about her," he says, hoping maybe it will distract her away from her guilt.

She's not usually one to cry in front of someone. It's not even that she's sobbing or breaking down, her eyes are just leaking water in the vein of 'this is just a thing that is happening' despite how hard she's trying to control it. It feels like someone punched her in the gut. Memories start to surface and Kenzi just shakes her head, wiping her face with her hand. She wouldn't even bother trying to salvage her makeup if it weren't for the ever-prying eyes that they still can't identify.

She can't tell him about Bo. Not because she doesn't trust him, but because it hurts too much. Bo saved her life, gave her a home, gave her a family, and now all that is gone and she doesn't know where to start to get it back but she has to. Bo also isn't human and Kenzi knows these secrets aren't hers to tell. They belong to the fae.

"No, I just wanna go home. Can we just go home?" If she stops crying and puts on this smile and takes a deep breath, can they just go back to pretending everything is normal for five seconds? "I don't think I'm who you want me to be." Definitely not an agent. Certainly not equipped to deal with this kind of tampering all up in her brains.

"... But I want to help. I wanna--" She takes another deep breath and knocks her sunny disposition up a notch for whoever's watching, "We're gonna figure this out and get to the bottom of it and may Cosmic-Space-Overlords have mercy on their souls if they try to fuck with us."

Her resolve is admirable, even if it's tough to gather it up. Suddenly regaining an entire person must be an ordeal. Rumlow is certain it'll happen to him at some point. Until then, he'll take care of Kenzi. She tells him she wants to go home and Rumlow smiles and nods.

"Sure." He figures she'll tell him when she's ready. There's no need to hear about it now, and he's definitely not going to put any pressure on her. Kenzi will tell him, eventually.

"And I appreciate that, Kenzi. I'm not here to want you to be anything but yourself." He took her hand in his, giving it a supportive squeeze as they resumed heading back home. Hopefully Kenzi's eyes would dry before they got there -- the camera at the door would definitely pick it up unless he angled himself perfectly. It's kind of a hassle.

How the frick is he so chill? Seriously? She squeezes his hand back and mentally thanks whoever stuck him with her for their epic judgement on that call. The walk home is filled with much lighter conversation as they make their way back into potential earshot of whoever-the-fuck. It helps. Her eyes are only the slightest bit red and puffy when they get home, but she audibly chalks it up to allergies.

Outwardly, she's looking almost as calm as Rumlow. Internally she's trying not to think about Bo while simultaneously clinging to the memories she's gotten back. Dwelling on it isn't going to do anyone any good. If Bo is here, she hasn't seen her yet. If she's not here, finding her is going to be something Kenzi wants to keep quiet.

There's also the inevitable talk she needs to figure out a covert way to have with Bucky and Steve. Something tells her speaking in Russian won't make much of a difference.

Kenzi is grateful to be home. Home. It kind of feels more like she's just playing house these days, but there's still that element of belonging that she feels here more than anywhere else. She unlocks the door and shoves it open, trudging heavily over the threshold and kind of just wanting to curl up on the couch or in bed. Emotionally exhausted much?

"Can I just faceplant into a soft surface or do we have plans?"

"If you wanted to just chill, I was gonna make dinner then maybe we could zonk on some TV?"

Rumlow offers, shutting the door behind them and picking at the laces of his boots. Once they're off and tucked away, he walks back up to her, turning her to face him. He strokes her face and gives her a peck. Whether they follow through on the plan is up in the air, Rumlow doesn't have any firm ideas, just the notion that they should eat and have some personal time.

And while he's cooking, Rumlow can go over what's been said. He hasn't quite let go of the idea that Kenzi's an agent, but he's trying to figure out why they were put together. There has to be something.

"You can faceplant in the meanwhile," he adds with a smile.

Those are plans she can get behind. A night in, just quiet and chill and together. She completely forgot how hungry she was until Rumlow mentioned making dinner. Of course she's starving because she was waiting outside the gym for forever. He hasn't made a bad meal since she's known him. "Sounds perf."

The kiss surprises her more than it should. She figured some part of him would want to distance himself from all the crazy she was spouting back there. There's also the fact that they admitted they know this isn't real. But he did say he felt something for her. She obviously feels the same, it's written all over her face when he pulls away. His stupid smile is gonna be the death of her someday.

"Well. If you insist. I mean, as long as you don't neeeeed my help in the kitchen or anything." What. Is she actually not taking the easy out to nap on the couch instead of pitching in? Is she actually sort of kind of offering to help? Is she actually trying to be HELPFUL TO SOMEONE ELSE? Gross. Weird. Maybe she's still sick.

"Need it, no. Want it?" Rumlow says, lifting a hand and waggling it. "Can't say I'd mind the company."

Whether she wants to cut vegetables, provide conversation or even just taste test, Rumlow doesn't really mind. He's pretty capable of splitting his attention. Even if she does decide to just languish on the sofa, he's fine with that too. It's definitely strange, this easy comfort he has with her. If he ignores the 'memories' of this place, Rumlow can't imagine having someone like this. Casual hook ups, sure, but this is a lot more than this. The affection runs deeper than just an appreciation of her company.

That's why he's so hung up on the idea that there's something more. It can't just be the result of these manufactured memories. Rumlow gives her hair one more pet and then he turns, heading into the kitchen. If she wants to follow, that's on Kenzi.

She does follow him to the kitchen, fairly certain she'd follow him almost anywhere. Nothing really explains the trust she has for him beyond the fact that they got thrown together in this and he's seen her at some of her most vulnerable points since then. The trust was there from the moment he said her name, though. All the stuff she learned about him after just added to what was already there.

Keeping her hands busy helps quiet the din of her mind. It's hard to over-analyse everything and pick at all the little insignificant details that just won't form a bigger picture when you're focused on chopping and peeling and making dumb jokes just to hear your fake husband laugh. She feels so much calmer around him. Relaxed. It's like she knows she can let her guard down around him because he has her back no matter what. It's similar to how she felt around Bo. Being on her own for so long and then finally allowing yourself to trust someone... it's so much better. Easier. Kind of addictive.

By the time they're done eating, her heart's healed over enough to think about Bo and not immediately fall to pieces. She's quiet as she explores the new/old memories, pensive, all curled up against Rumlow's side on the couch with the TV acting as background noise. On the surface, this is perfect. Idyllic, even. Married bliss. But that's just the surface. Everything here runs so much deeper. Like the cameras and the notices. Like Rumlow's real identity and her own past.

At least she knows he's one of the good guys.

She sighs and tries to stop focusing on the past for a while, tries to stop picturing Bo's face and wondering where she is and how they got separated. She looks up at Rumlow, studying his face, reaches up to trace the tip of her nail along his jawline.

"Hey."

Kenzi isn't the only one to have spent time mulling this over. There is a lot to consider between them, and the only constant seems to be Rumlow's connection to Kenzi. Whatever their past is, there is history between them -- why else would this relationship feel so right? She gives him what he needs and though she's playful, never demands things he can't offer. They fit together, and the way she reacts to situations makes him think she can't just be some average girl. There's something special.

It's after dinner and they're snuggled up on the couch, Rumlow considering what might happen if he pulls her into his lap when she takes the initiative to turn and drag her finger along his jaw. The nail scrapes against stubble and it makes a shiver run through his body. He hums a note, turning towards her with a particular look in his eye. One she ought to know well by now.

"Hey," he parrots back, sneaking a hand behind her and curling it around her waist, trying not to marvel at how damn tiny it is. Rumlow sees the way she's looking at him, like she's trying to remember more than she does. A familiar motion because Rumlow thinks he must do it to her a lot too. Definitely guilty of it while they were cooking together, in the brief moments of pause.

Ooooooooh yeah, she knows that look. She is very familiar with it by now, enough that there's a visceral reaction when she sees it. Damn, Rumlow.

Kenzi smirks, huffing out a laugh as she cups his face and pulls him close enough that their lips just almost touch. Neck craned, head on his shoulder, she looks up at him, trying to imagine him as some kind of peacekeeping privatized badass following orders and shit instead of yelling at people to lift heavy things all day. It's weird. She can't see him doing that, but at the same time she can? He's too damn interesting to be some suburban business owner in the middle of nowhere.

"I like your face. It's a really good face. Congrats on that."

"Yeah? Likewise, sweetheart. You got lips so perfect I can never decide what they look prettiest around."

She goes for cheesy, he goes for sultry. It's kind of how they work. Rumlow's nose flares as he takes in the scent of her, somehow delicate as much as it is intoxicating. He sees the game she's playing though, trying to get him to make the next move. It is tempting. He's got the self control she lacks, however. Knows she'll give in well before he does.

He curls his fingers against her back, drags them slow from one side to the other. His nose bumps against hers, lips so close they almost touch more than once -- but he doesn't give in. Rumlow smirks instead, waiting for Kenzi to press herself against him.

"You look like you want something."

He purrs, fingers drawing up her back and under her silken hair until they reach the nape of her neck. A subtle reminder of who's in control. Rumlow stares at her, watching, waiting. Letting the anticipation build until Kenzi can't stand it.

She swears he does it on purpose. Whenever she tries to keep it light, he goes right in for the kill and presses every goddamn one of her buttons like a kid in an elevator. Her plans never quite pan out the way she wants them to when Rumlow's involved. He just always has the upper hand in these situations.

Not this time, buddy. Nope. No freaking way. Not even when she's picturing what she thinks her lips look prettiest around. His fingers could be a problem. Yeah, it's definitely a problem when his hand gets under her hair, making her shudder visibly until it reaches her neck. She sucks in a sharp breath, mentally cursing herself because she's trying to prove some kind of point now.

Kenzi bites her lower lip, not moving an inch even though it's practically torture when he's right there and she could just be all up on him but now her pride's getting caught up in this.

"Nah. I'm good." She firmly plants her hands under her butt, literally sitting on them in case her steely resolve melts under his stupid, fiery Italian smolder. She is RESISTING! She can DO THIS!

...She probably can't do this.

I can't help it, man! I'm all about stupid!

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