"I hate everyone," he gritted out before his face fit into Sam's neck. He didn't want his bond to have any reason to feel special for his treatment because this was all second nature to him. What he couldn't control, he often simply hated until which time that he found a way to use it to his benefit. He was no close to many people; HYDRA was his life.

He breathed deeply the scent that came off of Wilson, letting it fill his head, to wash away the possessive impulse to still go after Steve, to just push away the buzzing need that threatened to pull him down again.

He heard the door open to the back of the van, and his legs jerked, almost considering getting himself up. Hill couldn't see him like this, but there was nothing to do because forcing himself wasn't happening with the warm press of Sam over him, arms caging him in and body so close to his own. He finally and childishly thought that if he didn't have to look at the woman, she wouldn't look at him.

His bound hands caught and grasped the front of Sam's shirt, only then realizing he had lost his bond's jacket to the floor. Calm started to suffuse him regardless.

"Fuck off, you old hag. Wilson is mine," he snarled from his place in Sam's neck. "Take him away, and I won't cooperate with anything."