For geriatric

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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

[geriatric]

[ He needs to sort through all of this, but he's got the uncomfortable realization that maybe he shouldn't do this here. There's enough of himself that was laid bare that he doesn't want to talk about it, and there's enough of Rumlow bouncing in his head that he needs time to sort that too.

Rumlow slides away and Steve rolls to his feet unsteadily, his whole body a low throb that's partially arousal and partially exertion from what they'd done. He needs to get to Fury, to Natsaha, get all of this out of his head and on paper so they can start working on the remnants of HYDRA. ]

It's your name.

[ It's a weak attempt at something like a retort, Steve visibly flinching when he feels how slick the insides of his thighs are. There's no waiting or asking for permission; he heads for the bathroom to clean himself up, coming out minutes later, still looking debauched as all shit. ]

I'll be back tomorrow.

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[The most he managed to do when Steve stood away from him was to stretch out his legs more comfortably, his eyes half-closed as he just let the aspects of someone else's life, the sheer rightness of a bond in full assault him. It should have offended him, should have raised his ire, but really, this was the best he had felt since the Triskelion tried to kill him outright.

Yet, he too noted the slink on Steve, but it was much the same for him. He let Steve go, aware that this was exactly as the man wanted, stealing his secrets and running off to yip at Fury about them. Whatever, they were never meant to be anything more than enemies until the fates had had a good laugh.

He managed to roll onto his side by the time Steve emerged from the bathroom, curled up lazily and track his bond' progress towards the door. He didn't even lift a hand to wave Steve out, just following the man with his eyes.]

Don't leave out any details, or no doubt this will be just another wasted effort on your part. And don't feel obligated to come back until it hurts you to stay away.

[Hell hath no fury like a spurned HYDRA agent lover.]

[geriatric]

[ He's doing his level best to keep it all at bay, not wanting to think too hard about it. It was much easier when Rumlow was an asshole who made shit decisions, but there's an added level to it and it itches at his bones.

Steve gropes for his clothing, shoving his feet into his boxers, into his jeans, and glances over at him. ]

You and I both know it's not as easy as just -- [ Just leaving. Steve knows he can't stay away forever. Rumlow can't either. It doesn't seem fair, either way. Steve shifts his shirt on, and doesn't look back as he heads for the door. ]

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[Well, to be fair, if he wasn't constantly being watched, he might have made his own attempt to leave. As it was, he was content to laze around for now, maybe sharpen one of his kitchen knives while thinking about Steve. No, that would probably get him hard again, and he should probably avoid that now that the bond was solid.

He watched Steve silently, letting his lack of words be the extent of his level of asshole for now. Only once Steve had gone did he move from his bed with its broken head board and go to shower himself. He had plenty of things to pick through and more than enough time to put it in order from all the jumbled mess that it was in his head.

Damn bond.]