Strange that Sam's first reaction to that suggestion is extreme reluctance that goes even beyond the push of instinct. Even putting up his hands and stepping back from the cell (which it really is, no hemming around that now) was an effort. It was all over his expression, an unhappy set etching deeper by the second.

Hilarious, simultaneously wanting to be with someone and not.

"Maybe."

A very doubtful maybe. " Definitely won't help if I just stand here and breath on you." So, he'll go.

"If it gets worse..." There was an honest desire in him not to know Rumlow would have to suffer through a full-blown heat on his own again. But he sighed, scrubbing his face. "Let's just hope it doesn't. And for the record? Sounds like your dad was a real asshole."

He'd mention that it might run in the family but that mix of an odd empathetic insult went unsaid.

There wasn't much else to say. They certainly weren't at the point for tearful goodbyes so Sam left with one last look. Ignoring the itch scratching at the back of his neck and his palms at putting space between them like the bond was physically protesting it all.

Three days was just three days. What was that on top of the six months they'd already gone through? Three days to work out a plan and that was a damn near luxury considering the past half-year.