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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."
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."
no subject
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?"
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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?"
no subject
"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 subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
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?"
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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?
no subject
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."
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
He was far less brisk, which probably would have been remarkably out of character for him if he wasn't just bonded and out of his first good heat since the lab. His scratched his blunt nails against Wilson's scalp and slid his body in a sway against his alpha's back.
"No, the less involved you are in my making it happen, the less they can point a finger at you when it goes down," he murmured. He did not want Wilson to be detained because of him, though he could still admit it was a slight risk regardless. Sam could after all track him down and SHIELD was not going to part with him easily for a few reasons.
"I just need those pills and a go-ahead from you on where to rendezvous."