Rumlow ripped himself away with a violence that echoed in his head far more painfully than the yank and scrape of his cuffs against his bared wrist. The clanging thud of him hitting the van's walls echoed. Steve's eyes had snapped open, his whole body shifting into the ready but Sam was already shoving himself to the opposite side of the truck, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“No biting,” he repeated, promising it with a pained knit over his features as his gaze settled on Rumlow's shaking form. Apology was there, for what it was worth. Guilt washed through him thick enough to echo down the bond.

He'd asked back in Rumlow's cell with hitching hopeful uncertainty if they could-

And he didn't know what he'd been thinking.

“Shit, Steve. Steve. I can't hold all this, how do you shut it down- just- make it less-” There were remnants of something raw and lashing from Rumlow cutting into him. That on top of still pulling the majority of the bond like he'd done was threatening to send him into a similar drowning spiral. He hunched over, head dropping between his knees as Steve put himself directly in front of him, leaning close while he tried to talk him through easing the intensity of their open connection.