[ As furious as he is right now, the worst of it is he can't stop thinking about how glad he is that he's not dead. That the building didn't kill him. That he's in his own kitchen right now, cooking dinner, within reach. It's fucked up, it's so fucked up but he can't make himself stop and it's horrific.

Steve inhales slowly and hoists himself up on the counter to watch Rumlow cook, mostly so he's not staring at his backside the whole time. ]

I wouldn't have let you take that place to begin with.

[ His lips press together in a thinner line, gripping the counter tightly. ]

But you already know that. You can't honestly think this is better, though. You won't have any freedom. You won't be allowed any contact with anyone that isn't monitored by every level of security and then some.