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“Don't!”
Take advantage of him being startled and exit the building as quickly as possible. It's not the first time he has to avoid people who want to make his life a living hell.
“Agent Rumlow,” Too bad the pencil pusher has experience with this kind of situation and follows after him. “If you'd please come with me, so we can go over your paperwork from the last mission.”
“Not gonna happen.” Turning the corner he can see the exit. He can basically smell the sweet smell of freedom.
“I must insist.” It's kind of funny how the guy actually tries to step in front of him. Amateur. Like he can stop him. “On page six, nine and eleven you wrote Everything went to shit. We handled it. That is not a proper way to write a mission briefing.”
Really? Wow! Why did nobody tell him?
“It's just a draft. I'll hand the final report in on Monday.”
“I don't think we can wait until Monday.”
“I think we can.” After all, it took S.H.I.E.L.D. two weeks to get him and his team out of Slovenia. Which was a little inconvenient since they only had supplies for a two day mission. It's a miracle they didn't die from the stuff Miller cooked up. No matter what the Boys Scouts told him, tree bark does not belong in soup. “Bye.”
Leaving the building Brock hears the him call after him. “Agent Rumlow!”
Whatever! It's about time he gets another mention in his personal file about being uncooperative and a pain in the ass. He's not making up the second part. Hill even has the habit of painting little sketches next to her notes. To think of it, the notes are only there so the sketches are recognizable. She should really take an art class or something.
Just like Jack could use an hobby. “What are you doing?” One that isn't bothering Brock.
“Waiting for you.” Leaning and most certainly leaving scratches on his car he yawns. “What took you so long?”
“Bureaucracy.” He would question Jack getting into his car without an explanation, if it didn't happen any other week. “Where'd you wanna go?”
“Well, your place.” What? There is some information he's obviously missing. “We can stop to get something to eat if you want.”
“What the hell?” He would be worried that Jack is under some badly executed mind-control, but the feet on the dashboard show that it's all Jack beside him. “Why are you inviting yourself to my place?”
“You said I can crash there.”
“I did not agree to a sleepover with you.” Jack Rollins is a great coworker and sometimes Brock even considers him a close friend. However he's not on his list of people he wants to spend the night with. “I would remember that.”
“Well, you did. Last month, when I told you about the construction work in my building.”
“No fucking way.” That's something he would never do. He's not known for being helpful. “Wait? Last month?”
“When we went bowling.”
Bowling? Oh... That night they went out with Rogers. The night he got drunk and crashed on Jack's couch. This whole situation is getting more absurd by the moment. Apparently he becomes nice when he's drunk. It doesn't explain why he's is still driving them both to his apartment today, but okay. Any other person and he would already have kicked them out of his car. Or even better not even let them get in.
“Whatever. Just don't leave your dirty socks laying around.”
“Why? So they won't get mixed up with yours?” God, how he hates people who laugh at their own jokes even though no one else does. “Don't worry, you won't even realize I'm there.”
Somehow he doubts that. After two weeks on close quarters with his team he was looking forward to some much needed alone time.
“Stop glaring at the road. You can do all the stupid shit, you had planned. Eating cold pizza in your boxers while watching Dance Moms is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I don't watch Dance Moms!” He just hopes Jack doesn't hear the unspoken anymore.