Rosalie Kasten is out of luck and out of time. For the last two years, she's been living on borrowed time. After her involvement with the death of Edwin Pierce - Alexander Pierce's son - it's only a matter of time before Hydra comes for her.
James...
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"𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐭 fuck," Rosalie hisses and throws the black card back down on the coffee table. James chuckles. "What the hell are you laughing at!"
"You, of course," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. It kind of is.
"Shut the fuck up!" She growls and picks the card back up. Having it on the table won't do any good, and she seriously needs to copy the nanochip. James keeps laughing, and she throws one of the pillows at him. He catches it with one hand without issue and puts it down slowly.
"Come on, Rose. You can't blame me for laughin' a bit."
"I can. It's distracting," Rosalie scoffs and begins fiddling with the nanochip. She's not actually doing anything, but he doesn't have to know that.
"You've been workin' on that thing for hours. Takin' a break might be a good idea."
"I'll take a break and kick your ass," she sneers, and he presses his tongue into his cheek.
"You're not really a fighter."
She puts down the card. "That doesn't mean I can't do it. I'll kick your ass right now."
He grins widely, as if that was exactly what he wanted. James looks at the page number of his book and drops it on the table. He stands up and stretches his arms.
"I was talkin' to Steve about sparrin' with him at the compound but if you're set on kickin' my ass, I guess that'll do," he chuckles and offers her a hand. Rosalie frowns.
There's no way she's going to fight him. He's twice the size of her. She's mad, but she's not insane. But, that smug smile on his lips is really punchable. Maybe she should try, taking him down a peg or two would do him good. It might be good to let out some steam. God, right now, she would love to punch the shit out of something. It's not a feeling that she has often, violence rarely works out in her favour, but when it's there, she can hardly get rid of it.
"Fine," she grumbles and puts the laptop down next to her.
Rosalie takes his hand, and he pulls her onto her feet. James pulls her into the space between the coffee table and dining table. He takes three steps away from her, and she folds the sleeves of the shirt of his she's still wearing. He reaches up and ties his hair together with two strands. The parts closer to his face can't quite reach, and they fall to frame his face instead.
Rosalie feels her cheeks flush as she lifts the shirt and ties her pants. Of course, he would look hot while getting ready to fight. Why does he never wear a shirt? It might be some secret tactic of his to make her all flustered, so he can win. Fucking bullshit, I'll kick his ass for being an ass. Rosalie ties up her own hair and raises her hands. It's not a specific stance, but it'll work. James smirks and readies up. Fuck, he's massive. She shouldn't have agreed to this.
