spaces_between | We're all going to Hell

We're all going to Hell

Who: Brock Rumlow & Sam Wilson
When: 6+ months post-TWS
What: Tans knows. I know. Yet another reason we have poor life choices because of conversations with each other.
Warnings: Rumlow, dubious science, sex no doubt.

Time was a slippery mistress to chase when one hadn't seen the outside world in a long time. The Hive was a facility that was designed to be both a prison and a feast of scientific advancement, buried in the ground and having little need to have any come to the top three prison levels for any more than resupplying. It was a revolving door of fresh faces and experimentation, hidden within plain sight and maintained by an apparent good standing in a functioning if hard penal system.

Rumlow hadn't had a chance to look at the date when he was stolen from the hospital room, not exactly his first priority. He knew upon awakening and being told he was at the Hive that he had been traded to another division to use up what was left of him. That was fine by him as all previous estimations were that he would never been fully functional as an agent again with the extent of damage that he had suffered. He was fine living out the rest of his life being of service.

Except he didn't die.

HYDRA was always on some advancement, and it seemed interested in the relative youth of the super-soldiers and the limited youth effects of Centipede. It had a good serum made up that was in test phase, and who better to test the effects on then the washed out remains of soldiers from the Washington D.C. failure. It began slowly at first and earnestly when responses were recorded. Alphas, fueled by testosterone and aggression and dominance, showed little production and response, though there was some age-stopping effects noted. Betas, the middle ground that swayed between nature and nurture, were moderately successful and lost a few apparent years and maladies that were associated with age. Omegas, nurturing and estrogen based and designed to take all manner of punishment, responded better than anyone expected. Years bled away (literally), they returned to prime 'breeding' years as it was called and they were suddenly on great interest.

Brock had healed well, his scarring bleeding away with the years that reversed him. Aches, pains and old injures sorted themselves out. He was a rarity. Among the omega population, only twenty percent were born male and the rest were all female, who had a more nurturing nature. His rarity had been a curse for most of his life, only HYDRA saving him from life in the underbelly. He had joined first because he had been guaranteed heavy duty and very experimental suppressants; as one of the few male omegas, he had first crack at them and disregarded any danger associated with them. It was better to be on them than risk heats every three months in his prime.

Now with the experimentation at its peak, he was back to where he had started when he was twelve and showed his nature. He hadn't been on suppressants since the Triskelion had fallen on him, and his highly regarded and coveted 'maleness' fell away. His hips ached constantly, the scent glands on his neck had developed out of forced dormancy, a considerable amount of his old musculature had not returned despite his aggressive attempts, and looking every bit like the man he had been when he was twenty-five or so, even his facial hair, once so prized by him and always left somewhat rugged, struggled to grow.

Worse, his second heat in twenty-five years had come and gone, leaving him in isolation so as not to send all the other omegas (all female but one other) into heats of their own.

The worst of it was the itch that he had spent most of his time ignoring getting stronger. At first, he thought little of it until the noises of doctors and guards alike giving orders and hurried moving equipment and paperwork. Within hours, the itch grew and Rumlow knew. The Hive had been discovered and was being taken down by whatever remained of SHIELD or the Avengers or whatever organization was giving HYDRA the chase around at this point. He had hoped that he wouldn't come, but the thin thread of bond that was still so new and foreign was searching and crawling through his mind. It was deep already.

Wilson.

Rumlow remained at the back of his cell, his knees pulled up and his arms resting across them as he stared at the door. The prison jumpsuit was almost threadbare and at least see-through in more than a few places, an indication of the time that had passed. It was probably too much to ask that he would be passed over in the raid, and he huffed softly at the sound of gunfire and the invasion. Perhaps Wilson would consider him a lost cause and let him go, but no... even with only thirty minutes of contact, his near death and then disappearance, the bond remained unbroken. Who would leave their bond behind? Him maybe.

Maybe not with his hormones running on full, and while he certainly wasn't a typical omega, he still was one. Certain rules of his nature applied even after thirty years of neglect of them and the same amount of time hating them. He had learned long ago how to manipulate with his hormones; he could do so again as long as his bond didn't step in. Chances? Slim to none.

"Don't do it. You'll regret every single moment of it," he whispered at the closed door. "I'll make you regret."

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Sam's eyes slipped closed at the contact and he crawled closer, rolling with the sort of welcoming threaded back through towards him. His hand skirted over Rumlow's side, knowing just how to fit now and where resting felt most comfortable.

He eased back as Rumlow stretched, following the lines of their body. Instinct said Rumlow needed as much food as he wanted. Sam? Nah,no as unfailingly generous when his stomach was gnawing.

"You better," he huffed, scratching light over that patch of skin he'd been palming a second ago. Now he recognized this as what Steve mentioned a few times once they found BUcky again. Rogers had shrugged his shoulders and simply explained he just felt content, though that was after the two weeks he disappeared with his mate and they obviously spent that time 'catching up'.

"...actually," Sam considered that for a moment. Likelihood the heat room shower was bugged? Significantly lower. "Yeah."

The shower was freely available and yet here he was still lingering by the bed, letting their new closeness be an excuse to stay. Wilson was warm and all smooth lines with a softness that wasn't always present in the throes of rut. They had been rather determined to get everything they could during that but now, here, there was a subtle softness he liked to ignore before they had opened up the bond completely.

It was probably the first thing he noted as being a 'comfort' to him when it came to just being close to Wilson.

He made a soft humming noise at the back of his throat at the contact, his own hand returning to curve and stroke the back of Wilson's neck. He raised an eyebrow, sensing something in the bond that was not required in words, and he had played the shady game enough for years to know when it was happening. He kept his voice the same level though so as not to alert attention.

"You get someone to get us food, and I'll go turn on the shower and get it to an acceptable temperature. Then we'll get clean before we get dirty again," he said, though he would be just fine with faking the motions and sounds to know whatever it was Wilson wanted to say. "Now, off you go and off I go."

He did, with great reluctance, pull away from his alpha and moved back to the bathroom, but he continually turned his head to catch sight of his bond until there was no choice but to disappear from sight. Only then was he productive enough to do what he said that he would and that was to check the towels and do a quick sweep of the bathroom looking for microphones as he turned on the water. He only found one and disabled it.

Sam almost laughed at the chipper way Rumlow went about their designations and the next short course of action. He wanted to hold on, keep near; just about as much as it was apparent that Rumlow wanted to but let him draw away from the bed in the sake of getting something done. He stayed easily in sight until Rumlow had moved into the bathroom completely and they couldn't keep looking at each other like bond-drunk, pair-mates.

Though, wasn't that what they were right now?

Moving was a chore he hadn't felt in a while, like a hard marathon or mission. Sam hobbled his way to the speaker by the door, smacked his palm on it and wanted for someone to answer. He didn't recognize the voice but they were amiable enough, taking down his plea for an excess of food. Before he signed off with the disembodied agent voice through the speaker he asked just how long they'd been holed away in this room.

"Oh."

Was his simple response to that answer. Sam let them know that at least 30 minutes would be good before bringing the food by and signed off, hobbling his way over to the shower which he heard running. Something hot and consistent on his muscles sounded like it'd be a godsend, honestly.

"Three days."

That's what he said in announcing his presence as he joined Rumlow.

Rumlow had never been bond-drunk before, had no idea what it was about until he realized that he really, really didn't want to be out of Wilson's presence for too long. He hated the sheer idea of being needy in such a way, but at the same time, it was a strange kind of refreshing as well. He had never been attached to anyone on such a level before, so he could see why people fell into it and wandered around for days just cuddled close and being all couple-cute. He and STRIKE had so often made disparaging comments, since those who had bonded had been that way for a while and the 'bachelors' had no plans on bonding ever.

So here he was standing in the bathroom checking the water temperature with awareness of his state of being. He was no longer a bachelor, the longest running one of STRIKE anyway. He had lost everything that he had gained back then, his physique, his pride as a pretend alpha, his rank, even his stupid title. Now look at him? Small, de-aged, a prisoner of SHIELD, and who know the state of his insides at this point. Enough sex for guarantees, but maybe his body was retarded and had no idea what to do.

He sighed heavily and was about to step into the shower when he felt more than saw Wilson entering the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder immediately. "Plus the one in my original cell," he added. "So four days total; that's... unfortunately typical." He slipped into the shower now that Wilson was there in the bathroom, sliding under the water that was almost scorching hot. It almost immediately raised the blood to his skin, causing him to look flush and rosy.

"Hurry up, the water's just fine."

Part of Sam wondered if he'd done that on purpose- the pinkness rising on his skin only set out to compliment that well-fucked look slicked up by the shower's spray. Sam looked with something more deeply set than just lust pulling in him. He wasn't going to just subscribe to lust because he wasn't quite sure if his dick would survive another round so soon after some three days nonstop.

He forced himself to move, grunting shortly in his throat at the hot sting of the water on his skin. It was adjusted automatically, just a hair down so it wasn't scalding. "That's 'just fine' for you?" Incredulity laced his voice.

Sam crowded close, his hands finding placement against Rumlow's sides while his head tucked down with their temples pressing together. "Do you just take your coffee on fire or something?"

Goddamn it was good to feel like he was going to be clean, feeling the hot tendrils of water wash away old sweat grime and semen from his skin. He was keenly aware of Wilson without having to look, and he was just pleased to have the guy in the same room as him again.

He narrowed his eyes when his water was adjusted down, shivering as if cold pointedly. "Yes, and now it's cold. Why would you want a cold shower?" He shifted a foot to not-so-subtly turn it back up and the steam that rose was significant even as his arms curled around Wilson's waist and draw his alpha in.

"You gonna light my cup of coffee on fire for me?" He nuzzled to side of Wilson's neck. "I can put ice cubes in yours if you like."

"It wasn't cold." Sam insisted as he eyed Rumlow adjusting the temperature back up with the frank debate over the fight being worth it or not. The water climbed back to heated at an incline he could actually tolerate for now so he let it go, further swayed by Rumlow drawing in closer.

"If that's how you like it," He murmured it back, half-laughing before there was a sigh at the sluice of water, the contact and Rumlow nuzzling. "I do go for a good iced coffee every once in a while." The black swill they had overseas on tour was enough to last a lifetime. Being back home and all on paper as a civilian? He let himself indulge. Got something close if he grabbed a cup at the VA anyway.

Sam tugged on the Rumlow's ear with his teeth, hands slipping around to rest fingertips at the small of his back.

"You find any company?"

It was colder than how he had it, which in his mind, made it cold. He was pleased that his alpha decided not to bicker about the temperature and he settled into the flow of water and ignored the fact that they should be getting clean and not nuzzling and touching each other. This was all on SHIELD's dime and time, so he admitted that having a shower with Wilson was highly pleasant. Damn his alpha looked handsome all wet.

"Do you? I've never had a good one, so clearly when we get out of this place, you're obligated to show me," he mused. He leaned into the tug on his ear, following it with a slide of his hand up the center of Wilson's back and scratching his nails lightly back down again.

"I've got you for company," he replied. "Other than that, I haven't found anyone to cheat on you with." Meaning he hadn't found any bugs or microphones. "You gonna whisper sweet nothings at me?"

Bond-drunk. They could, if they needed to, chalk it all up to that. It was definitely a factor considering how Sam couldn't stop touching Rumlow with a fine edge of marveling at the sensation of just his skin alone. Maybe after a few days the hormones would bleed out and it'd be a little less dizzying. They did go one from one end of the spectrum all the way to the other.

But it was nice to touch without the claws of heat or being starved for that contact an overwhelming force.

"Deal." Said with a hiss, a light nip pressed against Rumlow's jaw at that drag of nails, light scratches to join the score already etched deeper into his backs. They'd do Starbucks if they had to. Shame they couldn't immediately go to the shop by his place.

He rumbled approval, skipping right over even thinking about Rumlow with anyone else in the abstract. "Only reason we're working with SHIELD was to get you out. Steve...wanted to at least look over what they're doing now that they're regrouping but my mission was you. Now that that's done, I think all of us are ready to split. Might be a day or two but they're not going to keep you here permanently."

Undermining large semi-secret agencies: something like sweet nothings? Sam nudged, bumping their hips and turning Rumlow around before grabbing some shampoo from the automatic dispensers to lather up.

He nosed at Wilson's thoroughly wet skin over the scent gland, flicking his tongue to taste as he had done far too many times in his heat and Sam's rut. Everything was settled now, just the sensation that everything was right and as it should be. He caught a slight apprehension which no doubt came from the news that was being whispered in his ear, since breaking a known scientific marvel and known enemy of the entire organization out was going to be a tough one.

He issued a throaty sound at the close contact, slipping a leg around Wilson's knee to hold on. When was the last time anyone took a risk like that for him? Maybe it was bond-fever, but he couldn't remember if anyone had. Wilson had come for him with a plan, not just half-cocked and willing to just fight like some crazy alpha. "God you're sexy when you're talking about breaking the rules. I'm not sure I can contain myself from ravaging you."

He was teasing - mostly - and he allowed himself to be turned, tipping his face into the spray of hot water. "You realize how much of a risk you're taking? They'll immediately suspect you because of our association and they will drive hard to find us. You got a plan on where to keep me locked up safe and sound? A cellar somewhere? Your basement?"

Mostly. Even now it didn't seem like it'd take much to get them going for another round. Sam scratched at Rumlow's scalp, through the thickness of his overly long hair with the plain soapy stock of the shampoo just adding to the combined remnants of heat and rut not yet scrubbed off. It was a plan that could fail so easily, but he's not exactly sure what SHIELD would do with Captain America's best friend if he showed himself a turncoat. They were, at the end of the day, trying to be the good guys. He didn't think they'd immediately start holding innocents hostage for his cooperation - his family.

But Rumlow was right about up there with vibranium in worth now.

"Can't imagine you don't have some sort of game plan for dropping off the map if you needed to. If we get you out, could you disappear? For a while?" The last questioned was stressed a little more, flickering through their bond. No, not forever. Not even six months strung out and yearning. Suds foamed but Sam took his time with the washing.

"I get the risk. Just...had to decide if it was worth it."

It was a good and safe thing that he was turned around for them both because without his hands on Wilson, he couldn't push them back into something less formal. Neither of them needed more sex right now, not after the three days that they had had already, but the closeness was nice. It was a rare thing; even after all this, he wasn't entirely sure why Wilson was doing this for him.

He smirked and tipped his head back into Sam's working fingers, and he finally managed to force himself into some manner of productivity by picking up the soap and beginning to scrub the skin of his chest and belly and arms clean. "I always have a contingency plan," he remarked softly. "I could disappear for awhile, yeah. How long are you thinking to be on the down low?"

It was worth it because he couldn't sit in this place being poked and prodded and interrogated. He would eventually and rather quickly begin to fight back, which he knew from experience would only make it worse. In doing that, he was going to drag Wilson back into it, and it was better to avoid that. His alpha was far too good a guy to be in the mud with him.

"I'll take my cues from you if you want to run with it."

He couldn't quite define it yet himself, didn't have the words. All he was sure of was he was pretty much hooked into Rumlow's brain now and what was fed back to him didn't turn him off completely. Hell if it didn't do the opposite despite knowing, despite Rumlow's choices and who he decided to align himself with. Those weren't wiped out just because of a bond.

Sam wasn't a saint, he just tried to do good. If this was what he was 'destined' for with bond and bondmate then he was going to see what they could actually do with it. This alone, the closeness, was a taste of something he wanted to keep. All he could do was pray and work to make sure it didn't blow up in his face.

"Max 90 days." Not that they'd give up after the obligatory search window. "Maybe shorter. Not sure yet. All this spy shit actually isn't my forte. Close your eyes." They needed to rinse.

"...you will come back, though?"

He had had a lot of time to metabolize the notion of Wilson being the one, given the sheer amount of time to himself between experiments at the Hive. It didn't entirely feel real until now doing something so informal but potentially intimate as bathing each other. Of course, it was just like time to discuss plans of action at the same time, but who were they to miss an opportunity? Despite everything, he would keep his survival paramount.

"I can disappear for that long or longer if necessary," he informed Wilson softly. "There are plenty of bolt holes that I know about, and they should still be perfectly safe as long as Rollins isn't out and about. If he is, my options are a little more limited."

He did close his eyes, tipping his head forward and annoyed by the length of his hair at this point. It was over his ears, and he disliked that so much and fell over his eyes if he let it. The question caused him to hum softly, a soothing omega sound.

"As long as it's safe for us, yeah. Besides, I suspect you'll learn bond tracking if you have to, right?"

The mention of Rollins was flagged and tucked away to be passed on later. He was pretty sure a lot majority of the STRIKE force that hadn't been killed or voluntarily removed themselves in the light of mass exposure and Insight's failure had been arrested but a few of them, he's sure, likely went to ground.

"Let's not go for longer unless it's really necessary." Which was pretty much as close to outright stating he didn't want that, he wanted Rumlow with him and three months just to start with felt sort of unbearable at the moment. They'd adjust, naturally, a little breathing room would make the crawling need something more rational but he doubted it'd be fun anyway. Sam worked his hands through rinsing all the shampoo out until it ran clear, enjoying the length and the texture so different from his own even though he could feel Rumlow's annoyance flickering back.

"Pretty sure I'll get a SHIELD-sponsored crash course," he mused. "Too bad I'm gonna suck at it."

"No, we shouldn't, or we may be testing the benefits of this new bond, hmm? It will be dangerous to search for each other mentally, but if I go more than three months, I might just hunt you down," he replied as his lips twisted in a smirk. He hummed at the treatment, letting his threat be as much a promise as he could. It was probably the hormones raging high, but a small part he would step on didn't want it to be just the hormones.

He passed the soap back over his shoulder when he felt how smooth and clean his hair was. "Wash my back," he asked hopefully. He completely planned on returning the favour of all of this and not just because he felt he owed Wilson. No, he wanted to have his hands on the guy's smooth hot skin.

"Why would you suck at it? You're an intelligent guy, and I'll be fumbling along the same as you," he replied before looking over his shoulder. "If this escape goes down, I don't want you in the building. I can make my own way out; it's what I'm good at and I'll even limit the casualties." Survival was always paramount, his and Wilson's now.

Sam took the soap - which smelled the same plain mint-issue as the shampoo nearly - and automatically started scrubbing at Rumlow's back without any further prompting needed. The hopeful tinge in his voice and all the more excuse to keep touching him was all that he really needed. Sure, he was softer all over (and part of Sam liked that) but there was still old whispers of all the muscle that was that he could feel.

He shook his head though, smirking back at Rumlow. "Oh no, I'll get it. But if I can't find you while someone else is asking me too, y'know," he shrugged. "Might just be too difficult." But the praise was kinda nice. A world's difference from the acidic assessment Rumlow threw out his way when he first showed up at his cell in the Hive.

As he moved down and listened Sam's light smirk thinned out into a frown. "No casualties," he lined out first. No matter how much he wasn't SHIELD's biggest fan, he didn't want people dead because of them. "If you can't stick to that and get out of the building then we're working together."

They might be anyway.

He rolled his shoulders under Sam's firm hands and the soap, enjoying the sensation of being clean again. It had been days since he managed to get a shower, and it was neither of their fault there. Hell, having a piss had been a very difficult endeavour for the last while being being parted at all was unthinkable. Now, it was all smooth palms and calloused fingers sliding over the curves of his back, which had more than its share of scrapes from nails and bruises. He'd never complain about any of that.

He smirked and gave Wilson a sharp jab from his elbow. "If anyone hurts you and I know about it, I'll skin them alive," he replied with a growl. "I don't care what bolthole I'm hiding in, I will even use a rusty bit of metal to do it." Wilson was his, and the guy's dentition was currently imprinted on the side of his neck. Everyone else had been stay the fuck away from Wilson.

"I'll just make them bleed a little," he amended. "We gonna meet up before I go to ground, or... when it goes down, that's it?"

Though for all the bruises Rumlow's back and hips should have sported there were considerably less than he expected. A few looked barely there, just light hints of red - probably from the first day. Sam was eyeing them until he was jabbed and then his eyes flicked up with a dry look that turned to something heated with the vicious possessiveness in Rumlow's voice. Oh, he meant that. Every damn word.

It made him rock forward and mold their bodies together, sinking his teeth obligingly into the fresh clean on the back of Rumlow's neck. He meant what he said about causalities and really hoped 'make them bleed a little' didn't slip in the heat of the moment. The wet soapy fingers of his free hand found and gripped Rumlow's hip. Gestures that said the same right back, seethed mine.

"No one's getting at me." He certainly didn't plan on letting them.

Sam eased up, brushing his mouth over the shallow imprints he left behind. "I owe you a coffee, don't I?"

He was healing well, the thick scab on his neck reduced in size and ugliness by now. The scarring was setting in very nicely and in a very obvious way, and it no longer even tried to open when he rolled his shoulders. His bruising was fading much faster, the scratches settling down to just faint marks on his skin when it was wet. The stiff muscles were a little harder to hide, but the hot water was doing wonders for those as well. Of course, Wilson's fingers were helping too, all slide and caress as they were.

He moaned at the press of skin, leaning into Wilson immediately and tipping his head forward just before the application of teeth. There was the pressured burn of that contact, but it stilled and calmed him as a bite never had before. It was Wilson and even with no scent glands back there, his body responded all the same. "Heh heh, you're a possessive asshole. Just the way I think it should be. I am all that and a bag of chips after all."

He slipped an arm around Wilson's waist so his alpha couldn't step back too far from him. "So you do," he agreed before turning his head. "We should be safe and you're going to have to get me some pills, right? We don't need the potential of a growing problem, do we?" Which was completely opposite to what his body wanted, but what the hell did it know? There was too much risk right now.

"Modest, too." Came the gruff reply, Sam sounding almost sullen at being called possessive. Not that it was one-hundred percent untrue because he couldn't imagine sharing, not with his instinct running so strong when it came to his mate, but he wasn't going to be one of those alphas getting into brawls if someone even looked at him twice.

Hopefully, people would just be smart enough to keep their hands off. Rumlow's mark would shout he was claimed well enough. It'd be safer for everyone. Sam honestly doubted Rumlow would put up with advances he didn't want.

"Already planned on it." Yeah, no. No, they couldn't do kids-- he wasn't really sure if they could ever and the thought struck him with an odd twist of disappointment. At some point of his life he'd been hoping for it, not counting on it.

Sam straightened up without pulling away and went to finishing cleaning off the rest of Rumlow's back, only hesitating for a second before going ahead and scrubbing lower. Not like he hadn't already been there in every way possible over the past few days. "You'll get hooked up, that'll be an easier sell than the suppressants."

"And handsome, don't forget," he said with a smirk as he turned his head to kiss the corner of Wilson's jaw. He figured most of this possessive behaviour would fade, though oh man would he get a hard-on if Wilson took someone to task in his presence. It didn't even have to be about him, just the violence would work right down his nerves pleasantly.

On that same note, he would take anyone down who came close to him when he wasn't reduced to heat. He didn't put up with any nonsense about his omega 'vulnerability', and he was more likely to do serious damage than Wilson he figured. Besides, the bond scar would keep most away, but he knew some betas that just loved to push the ticket to see what would happen.

"Get me like... five. I want to make sure," he said because he had no idea how he was going to react to either suppressants or a morning after pill. He'd take the risk of getting it done right than have to be limited in his motions. He was not the maternal sort, which was odd given how invested they had been in the middle of heat and rut for just that result. It just went to show that their bodies had no idea what the hell they were thinking and shouldn't be allowed too much time in control.

He parted his legs to allow Wilson to clean him up, shifting a hand to cup the back of his alpha's head. "You... do you actually want kids someday?" Like in another lifetime, right?

"Five is way too much," Standard dose was two and that was more than enough. The prevention effectiveness of even the stuff you could get over the counter was something like 99%. He didn't want kids but he also didn't want Rumlow overdosing because they were both on the same page rather adamantly.

He didn't shrug off the touch to the back of his head, kept it bowed and in reach while he cleaned up Rumlow's ass and then down to the back of his thighs with a gentle, mindful touch.

"Look, whatever I said - it was the rut talking." Though resonance with that want was there in the bond and he couldn't do much to pull that back yet, they were still too tangled together from the heat and just bonding.

He was trying not to think back to what all he'd said in the rush because they'd lost their minds somewhere in the midst of it all. He remembered going on about filling him up, giving him pups, which seemed like the best thing in the world at that very moment and Rumlow keening around his knot, while he had his hands kept stroking over his stomach.

Jesus...

"Okay, you're good."

"I want to be certain," he growled back. He knew the rules about anti-pregnancy stuff and at worse he would puke, bleed and be miserable for awhile. Okay, at real worst he accidentally sterilized himself, but given all the shit he'd already put into to his body, he was certain it wasn't impossible anyway. He just wanted to be certain.

"Yeah, I know," he replied and he did. It had been all too much all at once, being starved of the bond so long, slamming together into the bond and then being reduced to animalistic need of rut and heat. He just... remembered dozing in Wilson's arms thinking of how he would count ten little toes and ten little fingers, all perfect and small, flexing under the slide of his thumb. Dark hair, dark eyes and a sweet little chubby face that could out-pout Wilson on any given day.

Shit. Shit, make it goddamn ten pills. He'd swallow them and take that risk than being anywhere close to that image again.

He hummed and turned around to rinse off the soap, running hands over himself to remove any residue. "Your turn," he said, side-stepping to allow Wilson free access to the water. "Once this all settles down, the stupid urges will go away."

"They're something else." Sam was more than grateful to edge forward into the full of the water's stream, sighing out as it washes over his head and down his chest. He let out a low sigh moving the bar of soap over his chest and stomach to start scrubbing all the remnants of heat and rut that felt all but stamped into his skin even if they weren't running the show anymore.

While he'd been indulgent in washing Rumlow off, he went about himself with a touch of briskness and awareness that they'd probably have company sooner or later. It'd be nice linger under the spray, do nothing but touch and pretend they didn't have a plot to unfold and loads of subterfuge to get through once they stepped outside of the bathroom's walls.

"If you run this solo, do you need anything?" If anyone was going to be able to smuggle something in, he'd have the best chance ranking low on possible conspirators and high on necessary to keep around.

At least for now.

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