For geriatric

[infligere]

Who: Brock Rumlow & Steve Rogers
When: After Soul bond - Timeskipping to Post-TWS
What: Rumlow and Steve deal with the shitty fall out of being stuck together after all that crap went down. They might even have sex for once.
Warnings: Maybe sex?


[He'd kissed Steve once after the Lemurian Star mission, but they'd made it no further than that in the year that they had known they were bonded. There were close calls, frustration and more than his share of horrible hard-ons that always seemed to appear whenever Steve walked into the room with him. They had gotten worse too, and the painful resistance only made his blood run hotter for the national icon.

No one knew about them.

And then HYDRA had been exposed, Insight had been destroyed, the new world order set to bring about peace in shambles and Brock Rumlow found himself confined to a hospital bed under going more skin grafts than he thought he had skin for. Like everyone involved in STRIKE and HYDRA, his name had been blown right open with some of the missions he had done, some of the missions where he had aimed the asset to set the world on a set future. Well, like his skin, everything had burned.

Steve, good guy that the man was, hadn't decapitated him. Most of their meetings involved asking him for information or sitting in silence with only the soft beep of machines their music. He hadn't apologized, not for any of it. It hadn't been personal, though he recognized that the only reason he was staying out of jail or worse was because of Steve's influence and the fact he was set to be the poor bastard's soul bond. Good guy, Rogers... too bad they stood on opposite sides of the scale.

So he'd recovered and mostly looked the same, though the scarring was evident in certain light or if he ever got wet. His life's work was gone in flames, and the only reason that he didn't kill himself was because of Steve. Even as unbonded as they were, he knew at this stage in the game the ripping of a compatible soul - which was laughable at best - would probably reduce Rogers to shambles for a little while. So he didn't; his one perhaps non-selfish act so far. He hoped Rogers didn't plan for more because he wasn't giving any more.

He also totally had it bad for Steve now that he had a body that wasn't about to fall apart on him. He had, by now, given up trying to hide his attraction. It was pointless. He'd either bone the guy soon or eat that bullet he was owed.]

Comments

sobbing

[geriatric]

[ The fact is, Steve's still too valuable to waste his bonded. Sure, there's quite a few people who'd like to dump his body in a goddamn ditch, but it doesn't help them out that much if Steve's incapacitated with grief, or if he follows. So they try to keep things as "normal" as normal can be, and it leaves them with very little choice about some aspects of punishment, even when they'd like to have them.

What's worse, is that no matter what Rumlow'd done - after what he'd done to Bucky Jesus, Steve's still drawn to him. That should've been enough to break the bond, but it wasn't, and that aches like a sonuvabitch. ]

That's why you were so hesitant. Because when you were worried about STRIKE alpha, you meant they would have killed you.

/offers tissues

[infligere]

[He didn't pretend to know how the bond actually worked, remembering a time when he denied that it could ever happen to him. He liked his privacy, his freedom, his goals... now he had none of that but still somehow had the steady warm weight of the bond that linked them but hadn't hit the point of complete dependence. He wasn't even certain how it could have survived all that had happened except perhaps Steve's stubborn idiocy and righteous anger had not let him slip away or let it break. He blamed Steve for a lot of things.

Still, at the words, he issued a soft raspy chuckle and stirred the contents of the pan as it began to sizzle.]

Rogers, you are as uncreative as ever. [He risked glancing back at Steve, feeling the flush or warmth at the man's attention on him.] They wouldn't have killed me, not at first. No, they would have used the bond first, drew you in, let you watch them torture me to break you down and when you were begging to take my place... then they would have killed me. Probably would have had the Soldier do it, mask off and all.

[geriatric]

[ 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.

[infligere]

Oh, and you would have been able to stop it, huh? Your heroics are impressive, but save it for someone who can't save themselves.

[It was a mostly gruff brush off, fully aware that he would have gone willingly to STRIKE if it had been ordered because he was better in an icebox on reserve to use against Rogers than the alternative. In his own way, he knew that in taking himself a little more away, he could have protected Steve. It was stupid; he wasn't protective of anything.

Still, he listened to the way that Steve moved, and his imagination had developed just fine laying in a hospital bed. He continued to stir to occupy his hands.]

Heh, I have nothing left, no one to call, no reason to leave except to struggle up the stairs with a bag of groceries. Does it make you bitter that your lack of freedom is tied to mine?

can you imagine bucky realizing him and rumlow are together ofmglkmhlgk

[geriatric]

[ Steve grimaces, not even insulted, because this isn't how Rumlow's mind works. ]

No, I would've offered to go in your place.

[ He doesn't think it would have been the same, the other way around. Rumlow was clearly more concerned with furthering HYDRA's goals, with killing millions of people.

The gunshot wounds still itch, just barely finished healing, like ants crawling under his skin every time he shifts. ]

You still have contacts. [ He's not an idiot. ] Most of what is left of HYDRA went to ground. There are still encryptions you can break that others can't. Initiatives you were involved in that we need to know about.

It would blow his mind... he'd probably kill something

[infligere]

They wouldn't have taken you. You aren't as useful as I am in the chair.

[He had seen enough and performed enough tortures on a few bonded pairs to know how it worked. It was the stronger one that had to watch, to break down slowly, to feel the burn and realize the helpless. All that power, all that protectiveness, all that possessiveness... for nothing when their bond screamed and bled and cried for mercy that would never come. It was a good system; he knew his place in it. Rogers would always be infinitely more dangerous than he was; he just happened to be insanely vengeful.

Ah, there was that expected stirring in sweatpants. Best to think on something else. His vegetables cooking up nicely perhaps.

He grunted, keeping his motions uncommitted.] You are really hot when you're making impassioned cases like that. Damn if it doesn't get my burning up inside. [He chuckled softly.] The answer is still 'no'.

crying.

[geriatric]

[ Steve doesn't know enough about it to say anything else, but he wants to say he would've insisted, even if they hadn't tried to take him. If they wouldn't have, then he would have torn the place to the ground, instead.

He tilts his head back a moment, knocking it against some cabinets, sighing. ]

I'm asking. [ He's not pleading, he's not ordering, he's asking. ] It'll come out eventually, either way. Someone else will talk, or if we - [ And there, he stops, flinching away from himself. His head hangs a moment, shame heavy and thick in his stomach, twisting into knots. ] I know it'll be betraying your confidence, but it'd happen.

Your suffering is beautiful, Steve

[infligere]

Asking, huh?

[He paused in his stirring, going over everything that had happened since he had been released from hospital into Steve's care, though the boxload of people who followed in the man's wake was nauseating. He would never have freedom, but had he ever had it to begin with? The world was a piece of shit and freedom was just an illusion to comfort the weak. It was better without this kind of freedom.

Yet... he wondered how much of this arrangement was just for his benefit. Steve had come to the hospital often, more than was required. The man had always been loyal; he valued that.]

Any agent worth their salt won't talk. It's the lesser bottom feeders that will make noise, but they know nothing of use. [He slowly turned his head to regard Steve sitting on the counter across the way.] Are you going to take the information from me, Steve?

none of this is okay

[geriatric]

They'll talk.

[ Steve isn't naive, isn't an idiot. Torture is vile and disgusting and something he wishes didn't happen, but he's not an idiot. He knows that while HYDRA did it, SHEILD without HYDRA's influence would, too. The government would. There were plenty of ways they'd try to get their information. ]

How do you think we found out about Zola's algorithm? Maybe most won't, but I don't think the government or what's left of SHIELD is willing to play with gloves on.

[ There's no pleasure on his face at the idea of it, no smugness, just bleak surety. ] You know it'll happen if we - [ His jaw clenches a moment, and he exhales. ] It was suggested I use the bond to my advantage, to dig for what there is. I can't- I won't do that, but I'm not an idiot, either, Rumlow. The only thing keeping us apart the first time around was concern about where we stood. And while-- while I hate what you did to Bucky, while I hate everything you were a part of, I can't change the bond. I wish I could.

Yet we're enjoying it anyway

[infligere]

Information under torture isn't accurate.

[He shrugged his shoulders, aware that a few who were left that hadn't escaped would probably have to talk a bit. However, talking and actually getting the information to work, to hack the system, to pin down all the moving cells within the country. That would take an active agent working against the system, someone he knew how HYDRA worked from the inside. It had to be willing and that was why it probably would never work out unless someone defected.]

Fury was a smart man, paranoid about everything. His secrets have secrets, his back-up plans have back-up plans. He'll I'm sure he has contingency plans sewn into his spare pair of underwear. Anyway... you need a defection, not a torture victim.

[Oh he knew very well that them sleeping together, that one of them slamming the other down and making good on all those silent promises they had made to each other would undo most of his resistance. However, the information would take time; it's why soul bonds were typically young... less information to sort through. He was forty and Rogers ninety-five; that was a lot of baggage to handle.]

Keep wishing then, but it won't work. For whatever reason, our souls bonded, which is probably the biggest middle finger to us both. You hate what I am but you can't hate me. That's a bitch.

[geriatric]

[ Steve says nothing for a while, knowing that he's right about some of it, but he still has faith that they'll figure something out, much as he might not like it. In the meantime, though, he's left with this. With being unable to fight his own nature, his own disgust. The serum might've made him stronger, but it made every other urge a million times stronger, too. ]

People'll do the right thing if you give them a chance. Most of them, anyway.

[ He's not so naive as to think that all will, but he has to believe - he has to think that some will. And Rumlow's right, anyway. He hates this whole situation, but there's nothing he can do about it because he's not capable of hating Rumlow himself. ]

[infligere]

[He returned to cooking, slow and steady about it, not caring much for the silence. He stirred the rice that he had put on and returned to his vegetables, moving them around as he felt his awareness of Steve pique. It always did in such silences, his longing building to frustration at their separation, and the painful want of his own flesh and soul for the one sitting on the counter. The pain was just as much a thrill though.]

I was doing the right thing; I was building a better world for those good enough to see it through. The scum would finally pay for their transactions... but nope, now I cook barefoot in my own kitchen and think about what position to sleep in tonight.

[He sighed and shifted his shoulders, feeling the pull of scarred skin, a testament of a failed dream. Ah well, dreams failed all the time.]

Why don't you throw me in a burlap sack and run off in search of him?

[geriatric]

[ It's tempting just to reach out, to wind an arm around Rumlow's shoulders and drag him back, slide his hands down scars and skin and soak it all in, but he won't. Doesn't.

He keeps his hands to himself and breathes through it. ]

You and I have very different ideas of the word better.

[ it doesn't take a genius to realize which "him" he means, either. Steve glances away, not quite a flinch, but close enough. ]

Because unlike HYDRA, I don't believe in making choices for other people to that extent. You might be a criminal, but I'm not dragging you across the country to find him. [ I'm not putting you anywhere near him after what you did. ]

[infligere]

I know, but that doesn't make mine any more wrong than yours.

[Because he didn't honestly believe that he was wrong, that he had dedicated himself to something that he wouldn't do again if given the chance. It wasn't wrong to want a better world, to make the illusions of safety no longer illusions.

Instead he sighed, flicked off the stove and stepped away from it to grab two bowls. He returned with two steps the other way and dished out rice and then put the vegetable stirfry on top. He served Steve first.]

Ah, you don't want to risk what I might do to him, huh? Because you don't know what I can do to him if I get close enough. Smart... but also very stupid.

[He turned around, closing the distance and pressing the bowl into Steve's hands, caressing his scarred fingers against the top of the other man's hand. Utensils were in the drawer just to Steve's right.]

[geriatric]

It does when you were willing to be complicit with a plan that included murdering millions because of a madman's algorithm.

[ He takes the food without saying anything, petty, and unable to voice the word thanks, not after what he'd done. Fury didn't begin to describe what he was feeling, but it was useless to him, which was the worst of it. He couldn't do anything, goddamnit, he couldn't be objective where he needed to. Not when that little brush of fingers against his skin makes his stomach tighten with want.

Silently, he slides off the counter and forces himself not to get into Rumlow's space, grabbing himself a fork. He slides into a spot at the kitchen table, watching him silently as he starts to pick at his food. ]

Because what you did to him - what you helped them do-- he shouldn't have to be reminded of that. Shouldn't have to be exposed to it again.

[infligere]

Millions of people who were clogging up the world with their horrible existence. Greedy pieces of shit, criminals, wastes on the system where good people could have finally lived free of the insanity and violence that our world has become.

[He knew it was a pointless argument, that he could never speak his belief enough to ever change Steve's mind on anything. It was better that they never spoke on their differences of opinion on Insight and HYDRA, but it was hard when he wanted Steve to believe him, believe that he had had actual intentions aside from just murder. Some people had to get their hands dirty to make the better world happen; he was one of those men.

Still, he eased away without pressing any possible advantage and returned to get his own meal, letting Steve leave the kitchen to go to the table nearby before he grabbed his own fork and seated himself opposite. He dug in without hesitation, knowing better than that by now.]

So throw me in some dark place for a few days; it won't hurt us that much. You can go looking for him and I'll get some peace from your constant disapproval. [He hadn't masturbated this much since he was sixteen after all.]

[geriatric]

That doesn't mean you get to be judge, jury or executioner. You don't have everyone's best interests at heart, Rumlow, and I know HYDRA doesn't either.

[ Don't feed him that line, don't feed him that bullshit. ]

If they were willing to torture you, just to get to me, how much do you really think they care about anything regarding loyalty?

[ He digs into the meal, not because he's grateful, but because he's hungry and he needs something to do before he loses his shit at the other man. ]

[infligere]

Of course it doesn't. That's what the algorithm was for. I have your best interests at heart then and especially now.

[That last part came in a rush, the usual sort of thing that burst from him just before he realized he'd put his foot in his mouth. He grumbled and immediately went back to eating. It was angry eating like Steve was doing.]

To control you. HYDRA is about control and order. I accept that I'm just a cog in the machine, that I might have to sacrifice to get a better world.

[geriatric]

That shouldn't be how it works.

[ He was in the military - sure, he was a cog, and sure, he knew that he was ultimately something they might have to sacrifice, but he'd make those calls himself. He'd sooner put himself down on the line than let someone else have to make that call. After the WSC nearly nuked New York, he'd been so disgusted he hadn't even had words for it. ]

The algorithm would have wiped away children. Babies, expecting mothers. You can't guess what someone will do by -- by their bank records, by social media, by whatever things Zola was using. You can't determine someone's worth like that.

[infligere]

[He frowned around the mouthful that he was chewing, and he had taken more than his share of hits for someone else, made calls that he had learned to let go for his own sanity. He'd been a punk and then a soldier, and he knew how to lay down on the wire so everyone else could crawl over. He wasn't going to ask someone to do something he himself wasn't willing to do.

He somehow managed to swallow, but it tasted horrible and his appetite had fled.]

How do you know what the algorithm would have wiped out? It tracked people with DNA. If you had something that could tell you that Hitler was going to murder so many people and start a second world war before he crawled out from between his mother's legs, would you want him dead before he wiped out good people in the way he did? Death camps? Bullets to the brain? Good men fighting other good men.

/squints. unless i'm misremembering how this worked

[geriatric]

It wasn't just SHIELD data released when Natasha let everything out on the Internet.

[ This part, he's not certain about. Rumlow may not know about everything that's happened- about what Natasha did. They've kept him locked down after finding him and hadn't let him have much exposure to things like the news, or anyone besides a select few. Maybe he doesn't know. ]

Stark was on the list. I'm fairly certain they've moved out of the weapons making business, and don't tell me that the Iron Man suit counts. They were wiping out people in the way, not just your so-called bad men.

Sounds good to me!

[infligere]

[He knew data was released on the internet, though he had never been given computer access to check into it himself. They didn't give him much in the way of technology when he was in the hospital save the television remote. Even then, they had some kind of lock on his television so he couldn't watch anything like the news. He was restricted to the kid's channel and the music channel. It was a pain.

Still, he slowed in his eating at the information, chewing as if he might be trying to break down glass shards. He had no love for Stark or the Avengers, but he didn't know the full scope of the algorithm. He recognized sacrifices would be made; hell, he bet his name was on that list somewhere.

He hunched his shoulders, staring avidly at his food to avoid having to meet Steve's gaze.]

...you can't tell me Stark is innocent...

[geriatric]

[ Steve digs his fork in a little harder with a chink of glass on metal, and glances up at him. ]

I can tell you he's a good man, a better man than the ones who you were following. He's not perfect, but at least he didn't try to kill millions of people based on some lines of programming and a monster telling them it was for the good of the world.

[ He's suddenly not too hungry anymore, but he forces himself back to eating, knowing it's only worse when he DOESN'T. ]

[infligere]

No, he just helped design weapons that were sold to other people to kill millions. I guess people change enough to erase what they did a few short years ago.

[He gave up eating because there was no point to it anymore. He wasn't hungry and while he knew he had to eat in order to heal up quickly, he wasn't about to when they were arguing over world philosophy.

He stood by what he did. He didn't shuffle it off and pretended to suddenly reform. He wouldn't.

Instead, he shoved his bowl and fork away from him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking stubborn.]

We should agree to disagree unless you want this to start getting ugly.

[geriatric]

Wouldn't want to waste my breath.

[ He finishes his meal with sheer determination and by focusing all his irritation away, into something semi-productive. It's not the best use of his time, no, but at least he's got something in his stomach. Why is he even here, though? This is a waste of time, a waste of his breath. Rumlow isn't going to change over night and Steve - well. Steve's still bonded to him no matter what, which is infuriating, too.

Once it's done, he takes it over to the sink, washing the dirtied dishes with sharp, precise movements, the only indicator how how pissed he is. ]