spaces_between | We're all animals inside

We're all animals inside

Who: Brock Rumlow & TJ Hammond (Political Animals)
What: PSL - Brock is assigned to keep watch on a Winter Soldier clone but also get himself in deep with the Hammond family in case he needs to put them all down so that HYDRA an prosper.
Warnings: Um... maybe violence? More to be added later.

When Alexander Pierce called, Brock knew that he was expected to drop everything, zip his pants up and haul over to where the new mission was. The changing political situation with Garcetti being in the water was one that Pierce was keeping a close eye on being an ex-Secretary and all that, but the man had a keenness for where the country was heading. He wasn't much interested in politics, though he kept up with it enough to be able to make chatter in the SHIELD lunchroom or on long-haul missions with STRIKE. The death of a President and the subsequent instating someone who smelled like a power-hungry, over-opinionated leech was not good for the country.

However, the Hammond family - as far as he cared - was circus side-show full of the kind of dysfunction one typically saw in the greasy underbelly of the poor neighbourhoods, minus the physical abuse and rampant guns. It was probably the only reason any of the Hammonds were still alive, but they were an important family, set up in a particularly good spot to take advantage of Garcetti's death. The rumours were a challenge for the Presidency was imminent.

The family also had a very particular piece of HYDRA sheltered - and the most dysfunctional of the lot - within that household. The Winter Soldier clone project had been some idea about thirty-five years ago, and it had been carried out with multiple people, the Hammond kid the most well-known. The Hammond kid was also one of the few survivors of the old project; apparently being cloned from a super-soldier had a high mortality rate, yet Thomas had survived two suicide attempts with little to no long-term effects. That made the kid both very interesting and very useful in the future. It meant the kid was someone HYDRA needed to have a handle on.

Pierce also wanted the rest of the family watched to see where Elaine would fall politically. She might not be swayed or hood-winked to the cause, and that meant if an agent was in close, he could end them all. For obvious reasons, they couldn't use the Winter Soldier.

So, he had been forced to take a leave of absence to take up baby-sitting of a recovering drug-addict homosexual kid with no doubt some kind of anger issues. It wasn't his cup of tea, but when the big man told him to hold his dick when he jumped, he did just that.

He wasn't secret service, but he was apparently being called in by Pierce as a kindness for the family to keep a closer eye on Thomas. Having rubbed elbows with the family so much, it hadn't been hard to get him in. However, he wasn't going to wear a suit all day, so when he showed up at the door for the first day of helping the kid out, he was wearing his black SHIELD fatigues, a tight black shirt, a relatively classy vest and his military jacket. He had his favourite pistol at his belt and a knife attached to his leg. He also had a days worth of stubble, going for the roguish rugged look rather than some clean-cut agent with a microphone on at all times. Pierce also told him to pull out his old dog-tags for effect. Whatever.

He was here to be effective and do whatever he had to do to keep Thomas close and as functional as possible. Well, at least he had to be in the same area as the kid or be able to track Thomas if the kid wandered off. Good thing he was highly effective at urban tracking, thanks to SHIELD and HYDRA. He been told to use any method required to get himself into Thomas' good books or trust or whatever a rich kid did aside from sleeping with as many men as possible. Well, he'd do whatever he had to.

He lifted a hand and knocked on the door. He probably should take up smoking for this. Oh well, time for that if this went South as fast as he thought it might.

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Shit. [crash.] Shit.

[it might not be the response rumlow's expecting, given that tj has - apparently - been told to expect him. but these things just seem to slip his mind somehow, and only the knock taps the remembrance back in there. today's when he's meant to meet the latest addition to the Hammond family security detail. one near-death-experience too many and tj gets his own, personal stormtrooper.

he's not an idiot. when his mom agreed that it was time he move back to his own place again, he knew it wasn't really an act of trust. it's just embarrassing for a woman pitching herself as capable enough to run a country to have a son she can't even keep a handle on still living in her back bedroom. maybe if elaine wasn't hitting the campaign trail she wouldn't have asked for the extra help, assuming she or dougie would be around enough to keep an eye on him. maybe without the added outside focus that her plans for the presidency would bring down on all of them she wouldn't be so afraid tj would crack again.

but she's running, and the vultures have already started circling. pretty soon there will be people going through tj's trash and trying to take pap shots through his bathroom window. again.

he knows it's going to be hell, he just doesn't see how getting him a guard dog he can't even pet is going to help any.

so that's rumlow's first greeting. the knocking over of something heavy, and muffled cursing from behind the door.]

One minute! [says a voice trying to normalise itself, and maybe five minutes later tj's actually there looking out at him. he's wearing jeans with one button unfastened at the waist, noticeable because there's no shirt under his hastily pulled on leather jacket. it seems like he's trying to style this out as a look, though when he steps back a little his t-shirt's crumpled up under a chair by his desk (the reason he couldn't find it), and he's turned off the camera on the computer, but the skype logo's still big on the display.

he offers a wry smile to detract from all that, and the general mess the apartment's in. more a slightly artsy college student's digs than the grown son of the political elite.]

Hey, sorry, I was just -- cleaning up? [a shrug, a grin, and he looks rumlow over for a second. pierce he knows. pierce is charming and smooth tongued, and has been there to ruffle tj's hair at birthday parties since he was a kid: kinda hot in a silver fox way. rumlow's more an unknown factor.] Wow, you really came dressed for the occasion, huh? Are we expecting missile strikes at dawn?

Edited 2014-12-24 01:51 (UTC)

[Rumlow sighed and held up his hand to keep an eye on his watch as he listened to the various cursing, thumping and shifting items within the house. If he had to deal with a body on his first day of duty, it would pretty much be a flash back to his opener with HYDRA. At least it would be entertaining because guard duty was as boring as shit otherwise. It was better than that stint in the Arctic.

By the time the door was actually opened, he was certain he could have gone for a coffee, snuck in the window and slit the kid's throat. He was going to ask Pierce for a pay raise for keeping track of absent-minded, possibly guilty, HYDRA accessories about to be thrust big time into the political scene.

He raised an eyebrow at the mess of a man that managed to get the door open, but his eyes flicked over the state of clothing, the computer and the various items on the floor that were within his direct sight. It could have been worse; it could have been much, much worse in his mind. This was just something he could cluck about like someone's mom and give himself the appearance of being stuffy and strict.

Except he would hate himself if he had to pull that one off for long-term. It'd be painful. Instead, he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and shook his head slowly.]

One, don't lie to me, kid. You're bad at it, and I'm really good at it. [He flashed a rakish smirk.] Two, when you're involved, I was told to expect one of three things: a random man, a random place, or a random weapon. So, I came expecting our first time together could be a random weapon. [He finally shot out his right hand.] Brock Rumlow, you're new security detail.

[any bodies rumlow has to deal with while he's on hammond duty are more likely to be in need of a coffee and a reunion with their clothes than they are burying in some shallow grave. it might be boring, but tj's never so much as been to an open casket funeral - if it weren't for his own near-deth experiences he'd never even have brushed by mortality in passing.

maybe there's a certain tint to the blood in tj's veins that means, were he trained for it, he'd be an adept at the art of murder. maybe there are even keywords locked in him, capable of flicking that ability on like a switch.

maybe.

right now, though, he's clueless and partially dressed, examining rumlow's outstretched hand like it's a party favor before reaching to shake.]

If you're going to run into a random weapon, it's probably gonna be attached to the random man.

[what? if he has to live with this new babysitter, he may as well be out about what he's got to expect. tj studies him carefully (the one thing about the security services is how many of them are republican at heart, and nothing unnerves a tough guy like a harmless homo).]

Just saying.

[though he takes, and shakes, the offered hand, then tugs a little by way of invitation.]

And it's TJ. Just TJ. So this is my place. It's cleaner after maid service come by.

[He was certain that hand shaking was required at parties and events and talking to all those stuffy men and women in politics. He didn't think that his hand was dirty, though now that he glanced at it, he thought that there might be dirt under his thumb nail. Well, at least it wasn't blood, right? He liked to be clean, but there were some missions that he had been on where having any clean part at the end was virtually impossible to do. That's what made him appreciate hot showers.

He dropped the shake after the tug, allowing himself to be drawn forward into the apartment..] Or security detail that follows around the rest of the Hammond family. [Or one he personally brought; never knew when a random weapon would come in handy.]

So I'm not required to call you 'Mister Hammond'? Small blessings, I suppose. [He glanced around. He didn't take his boots off.] Do I get a run-down on your usual daily events, or is there no schedule?

Right, but I'm assuming you guys are on the same team.

[yeah, tj's actually surrounded by a startling number of people packing heat, but he kind of... forgets about that, most of the time. they're all trained to jump in front of bullets for him. he's never considered that one of their guns could end up pressed to his back.

that would be ridiculous, right? these men are better trained than guard dogs. he feels guilty that people like Rumlow's expected to waste his time on someone like him.]

You can call me anything you like, man, but not Mister Hammond. And the day pretty much depends on the schedule the night before, so I'd say... pretty variable. [he tilts his head.] Gonna hit the clubs with me, too? You'll need to dress prettier than that.

I guess, but I was called in as a personal favour from Secretary Pierce. I don't have the same training, but I'll keep you safe.

[Rumlow prided himself on his gun control, and he would just as readily used fists, feet and head as he would use his gun in any given situation. He actually found it far more satisfying to be physical with someone rather than just blow their miserable skulls open. This job was mostly doing sweeps, keeping track of a kid who had grown up surrounded by suits and making certain no one got their hands on the cloned asset.

Of course, he'd probably take a bullet for TJ, but he'd much rather give one. He had a feeling he'd more be pulling people off of the kid or finding himself in random apartments pretending to care.]

I don't mind variable. It will keep things interesting. [Not.] I go where you go, kid. Only place I give you privacy is bathrooms unless I'm suspicious of who you're with. [He looked down at his stare of dress and sighed.] I haven't been clubbing in years; you dress me if you think this is too much.

What does 'don't have the same training' mean? Like, those guys are secret service. You're not on an internship or something, right? Oh, and I don't pee with terrorists, promise.

[but rumlow's going to be suspicious of most of the people tj surrounds himself with. it'll be like taking a pit bull to the kitty cafe. though, possibly worth it if the guy really is willing to subject himself to being tj's own personal ken doll.

tj picks up his shirt and shucks off his jacket, switching one for the other with an apparent deficit of shame.]

The privacy thing's going to have to be negotiable, unless you really like to watch.

I'm a favour called in by Secretary Pierce, which means I'm the rougher less classy version of any Secret Service.

[He smirked openly because, unlike the Secret Service, he was allowed to show expression and act like a human being. He didn't have to pretend like he was something more than he was, and beside, apparently the Secret Service hadn't worked for TJ. Now it was his turn.

He could care less what he was dressed like as long as he could do his job. It was better if he didn't stand out, but that was impossible with the celebrity that he was following around as it was. He'd been warned about the lack of shame thing; it didn't bother him.]

Well, I could add voyeur to my list of skills on my resume after you, it seems. I'll be sure to bring a book when you're occupied... though, at your age, shouldn't you be looking for something steady?

[something steady. tj looks at rumlow like he's a bucketful of kittens.]

That's adorable. And no, steady and I didn't exactly work out.

[he tugs his shirt over his head, smoothing it down over his chest, a scrap of worn-down cotton that probably cost a week's salary to some people. there's an art to looking low-effort. rumlow might think he's there with the all black ensemble, but no.]

How about you, little woman waiting for you back home? And you can sit down or something, pretend like you're not paid to be here - can I get you a drink?

[That was pretty much the answer that he expected. He was going to be reading a lot of books apparently. Maybe Pierce could recommend a few.]

Which means you haven't tried, you're scared to try, or Fraud would say you have mother issues.

[It was all high-class looking to be low-class, but TJ pulled it off. His wardrobe was pretty much military shit, black stuff, and that one nice thing he was required to have in his closet to fake being a civilized human being.]

Nah, steady and I don't work out. [He shrugged but remained standing, just because he could.] Pretty sure drinking on the job is against protocol, but if you make it look like water or apple juice, sure.

Then you're not all protocol. [water or apple juice opens up an array of options, but tj goes for the classic - bearing in mind the time of day and the fact that the ingredients are close to hand. he can make a gin and tonic as easy as breathing, so he makes two and walks back across.] Thank god because I promise you're not going to be on my ass as much as you think you are.

[he's had bodyguards since he was four, secret service since he was eight and the newspapers are testament to the shit he still gets into. there's no way some new security detail is actually keeping him on a leash.]

But why don't you sit and tell me about your mommy issues?

[He was definitely not all protocol; he always served the higher purpose and would step on any man, woman and child to do so. He raised an eyebrow at TJ for the choice of words, having to hold back on a bitingly suggestive comment.] Yeah, doing so is definitely against protocol. [Kid had a nice ass all the same.]

[He liked to think himself a breath of fresh air to the security thing, but it was only his first day. He was curious how long it took the papers to notice him. He wondered how long before he punched a reporter in the face.]

Can't. She's dead. And I'm bisexual, by the way. [Better to get that out there given how many gay men he was about to be hanging out with.] How about you?

[tj wouldn't have said it quite that way if he weren't putting out bait, but he didn't really expect rumlow to have a comeback ready for it. most security were so stiff at the collar that laughing would probably choke them to death.

he blinks a few times at the last part, though, working on parsing the two statements and whether they're supposed to be related or not.]

That sounds like one pretty big mommy issue to me. And you know, sorry, dude.

[it's maybe not the most sensitive way of saying it but his voice is genuine enough. much as he hates his family sometimes, they're the whole world to him and his mother's the sun they all orbit.]

How about me what? Am I bisexual? That was kind of out of the blue by the way, is the next part telling me if you pitch or receive?

[that, at least, might come in useful.]

[He didn't think much about his past, since he had long ago moved on and built himself up so that it would never have a particular hold on him anymore. He wasn't the kind of person that was going to let it weigh him down, not when he had important duties to fulfill with the skills that he had developed because of his past. Those were all that mattered to him.]

Not particularly. It's a non-issue given how long ago it happened.

[He realized too late how his words might have come out, but there were no take-backs. He was pretty much going to have to run with it anyway, and yeah... that was a little awkward if it was anyone but TJ that he was talking to. Not his most charming moments.]

I think the media and yourself has established which team you're playing for. [He grimaced and sighed, flopping down in a chair casually.] No, not unless that's information you're desperate to have, and even then, I probably shouldn't reveal all my secrets in the first five minutes.

Dude, you're practically the first of my security detail to even admit they have sex. Either they don't do the whole stoic thing where you're from or you're not as well trained as they said.

[it's flippant but tj's genuinely a little thrown by getting into this so quickly with someone who, ostensibly, works for him. he's usually the one doling out the tmi, watching his detail get hot under their heavily starched collar.

usually not because they're hot for him, though. there seems to be a high quota of strait-laced republicans in the services.

he regathers his thoughts, studying rumlow with a slow smile.]

So, have you got a lot of secrets, officer?

Nah, I'm military more then security, though I've done my share of security. Normally we're told ahead of time to keep our mouths closed and give the surly look to anyone who gets too close. Secretary Pierce indicated that I was to be a bit more low key about the surly expressions around you.

[Maybe if they were more casual with each other then it would be easier to keep the job for the long-term until all this political strife was over and done with. Pierce wanted this potential asset to be secured, so maybe an unconventional guard was what was the reasoning. He didn't know; he didn't care. He was here to do a job.

At the question about his secrets, he allowed a small smirk to twist his lips as he crossed his ankles one over the other.]

More than most men can claim to. [He offered a teasing wink.] Do you, or has the media successfully plumbed all yours to the public for a cheap thrill and buck?

[He rubbed his head with his hand. Handling the media was going to be the hardest part; he would no doubt have the urge to break a few noses.]

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We're all animals inside

(finally - i hope the format change is ok)

kk

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