When it seemed that Hill was not going to separate them, Rumlow slowly relaxed into the padded seat under him. His fingers even loosened in Wilson's shirt, and with her gone, their close proximity forced him to recognize how the bond had stabilize now that they weren't actively moving down it to each other. It was a calm warming presence in his mind, but no longer tearing the breathe from his lungs.

He noted that the space it inhabited in his mind had grown too, no longer just a pinprick to ignore, but larger and steadier than it had ever been. He shifted to accommodate Sam's face in his neck, nuzzling the gland near him as he tried to settle down again and focus on Wilson's word that there would be no biting.

"No, my blood pressure is just fine," he murmured into the warmth of Sam's neck. He inhaled sharply at the hand on his hair, surprised by the boldness but sinking into it as he had the press to his forehead back his cell. When was the last time he let anyone touch him like that? "How's your blood pressure, old man?"