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[comesfrompain]

{ "How fucking old is this -- Hey, you've reached Rumlow. Leave a message." }

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ACTION; the morning of March 18

[royalpassport]

[ It's somewhat alarming, waking up in a house that isn't his, with no clear memory of how he got there. But despite that, Jefferson seems okay, even with the dehydration and the mild headache that causes him to scrunch up his face and cover his eyes with his hand. There's a bit of grumbling and groaning, dramatics that nobody but Jefferson (and the cameras ubiquitous to every building in town) is privy to.

Glancing at the bedside clock, he can see that it's well past when he usually gets up, so he might as well get dressed and return home-- well. Return to the motel for a shower and a change of clothes before stopping by his shop. It's not even that he needs to be there today, but... what else is he going to do? He has nobody or nothing else to occupy him. And, as he remembers more from the night before, he knows he made enough of a fool of himself already. No need to impose on Brock and Kenzi any longer than necessary.

Luckily, it looks like he tried to strip as he stumbled his way to the bed, so his clothes are easy to find in a rather obvious trail from the door to the mattress. Wrinkling his nose a little at the ensemble-- a hoodie? He must have been truly depressed yesterday-- Jefferson puts it back on piece by piece, though his scarf and coat aren't anywhere to be found.

Must be by the front door, he figures. He wonders if that means they saw his scar, realized just how truthful he was being when he called himself damaged goods the other night. It was kind of them to deposit him in the guest bedroom despite that.

Though a little bit dizzy, he tries to keep as quiet and stealthy as possible as he starts to make his exist-- though not before stopping by the guest bathroom to quickly rinse his mouth with astringent, minty wash and attempt to salvage his hair from the bedhead he woke up with. He can hear activity in the kitchen as he makes his way down the stairs, and there's a pang of guilt in his gut as he feels even more like an intruder on the happy couple. Best to head out the front door before they notice. It'll be the least awkward for everyone.

Just... where's his scarf? And his coat? ]

[comesfrompain]

[Waking up early comes as a default to Rumlow. He's up at 0500 in the morning, getting ready to head down to the gym when he remembers they've got a guest and there's probably some Q&A to go over after last night. He makes a call to one of his staff members and has them go through the opening procedures instead. He'll head down later, after everything's been taken care of.

Means he ends up waiting around the house for a while, since Kenzi's not due to wake up for four more hours at least. Decides to just do his workout indoors, using the equipment in the garage (Kenzi's still trying to convince him to turn it into a ball pit). He takes a shower after, and then makes some coffee. Maybe the smell will wake them up.

Eventually, Kenzi comes down and they discuss breakfast. Mention of Jefferson is absent, but Rumlow's okay with that, guesses they'll wait for him before they start talking about it. She suggests making some pancakes and Rumlow helps her where needed, occasionally distracting with a few teasing words.

He hears a creak on the stairs after she playfully swats at him and Rumlow turns to spot Jefferson descending. He smiles and approaches, wearing only a robe and some clean shorts.]

Morning. [He says, looking him over, amused by his still messy hair.] Hope you like pancakes. Kenzi's making enough to feed an army.

[royalpassport]

[ Annnnd: busted. Jefferson freezes in his tracks, looking at Rumlow with some alarm at having been caught in the middle of his smooth, stealthy exit. And even though the other man's wearing far less than Jefferson, what with the robe and shorts, he's the one who feels exposed, because the sun's out, the lights are on, and he's hardly presentable. And the scar... It wouldn't bother him so much, its exposure, if he actually knew where, with absolute certainty, it came from.

But, as it couldn't have been the work of a fantasy executioner... Sometimes, he thinks it might've been self inflicted, somehow. During one of his episodes. ]

Oh-- It's all right. [ He casts a quick glance at the door. ] I should probably leave. Thank you both for the hospitality. I... wasn't myself last night.

[ Or he was more himself than he'd been in a while. ]

[comesfrompain]

Nonsense.

[Clapping a hand on Jefferson's shoulder, Rumlow gives him an even look. What kind of host would he be, just dragging you to his house only to kick you out in the morning? Besides, they really have to get what happened last night out in the air. Last thing Rumlow wants is to screw things up with Kenzi.

He looks Jefferson over again. The guy looks panicked, as if he was caught sneaking out of someone's daughter's room. That's about when he notices the scar. He's not sure why he hadn't before, it's not exactly subtle. Even looks like it goes all the way around. Garroting maybe? It's fucking awful. Jeez. He tries not to let his eyes linger, ain't exactly polite to stare.

It'll just have to be something to question later. A lot later.]

Besides, you take off now, I guarantee Kenzi's just gonna follow you back to your place until you've eaten thirty pancakes.

[onteamdyson]

THIRTY-FIVE!

[She calls from the kitchen, clearly able to hear you guys because you're being loud and the tablets she took for her headache haven't exactly kicked in yet. She sounds chipper enough, despite the hangover. It wasn't even that bad this morning, despite 90% of what she drank being saturated with green food colouring and probably not fit for human consumption. If she'd thrown up, it would have looked like a scene from the ghostbusters with that creepy, slimy dude. Gross.

She pokes her head out from the kitchen, smiling warmly at Jefferson with a giant plate of chocolate chip pancakes.]

Seriously, sit down. You gotta get something in your stomach, and I totally owe you for tea the other day.

[There's apparently no hard feelings... or she's an amazing liar and she poisoned the pancakes. WHO KNOWS!]

[royalpassport]

[ Jefferson would be perfectly happy to not talk about last night. And while Brock may not try to let his gaze linger on the scar, Jefferson knows he's looking, and he draws away a little to prepare to insist on his goodbyes. ]

I don't think I could eat--

[ Oh. There's Kenzi. Wearing... the same shirt he used to sleep in, when he slept at the tea shop. There's something they have in common. Along with... kissing the same man.

Her husband. Who's right here.

Still, Jefferson's about to politely decline. But the smell of breakfast is tempting, and as if on cue, his stomach actually grumbles. Kind of hard to pretend he's not hungry now. So, he sighs and nods. ]

Okay. Thanks.

[ He'll just follow their lead. EVEN IF HE FEELS EXTREMELY AWKWARD. ]

[comesfrompain]

Promise we're not just fattening you up.

[Rumlow remarks with a laugh. He looks down at the tall pile of pancakes Kenzi's presenting. Complete guilty pleasure, but he'll do another workout at the gym to make up for it. Either way, they smell delicious. He beckons for Jefferson with a nod, placing a hand on Kenzi's shoulder to steer them both towards the dining room.

He'll wait until after they've eaten to bring up the subject. You know, when they're docile from the food coma. It's a sound strategy, as far as Rumlow's concerned. He gets them both into the next room and pulls out Kenzi's chair before sitting in his own. More of a practical thing, since she's got a plate of food, but she's welcome to think he's being a gentleman.]

You sleep okay? [He asks Jefferson, once they're seated.] You seemed pretty much ready to pass out once I got you upstairs.

[onteamdyson]

[WHAT A GENTLEMAN! Practicality be damned. The pancakes are placed in the middle of the table, near the syrup and butter, so everyone can help themselves. She's totally making moon-eyes at Rumlow as she folds her legs up under her on the chair and takes up her mug of still-warm coffee to let Jefferson and Rumlow get their share first. It's polite, right? That's like... the polite thing to do? Look, she's not used to having house guests or being a hostess or any of this shit, she's just going off what she's seen on TV lately to supplement her memory loss.]

Pretty sure you did pass the fuck out, Dude. You were goooone. You made me look tipsy, which is ... impressive.

[And also a little concerning?]

[royalpassport]

[ You say that, Rumlow, but Jefferson isn't so sure. You two have been alarmingly kind to him, and now he feels like there's a giant spotlight shining on him as they all sit down and make with the polite questions.

He helps himself to a couple of pancakes, spreading a little bit of butter on them, as he keeps his eyes focused on the task at hand and not on them. ] I slept fine. I don't, uh... remember much from after you... [ CARRIED ME IN YOUR ARMS. Because that certainly was a thing that happened. He's about to add that he doesn't normally drink like that, except he's pretty sure that he does, since that was how his accident happened.

So he opts for a different excuse instead, one that might make him seem like 'disaster' isn't just his default mode of being. ]

It's been a rough couple of months.

ACTION; Backdated like woah (March 13th ish?)

[onteamdyson]

[Despite all her bravado, the ring on her finger, and the fact that her 'husband' is incredibly attractive, Kenzi still hasn't had sex with him.

What? It's not like she hasn't THOUGHT about it! She thinks about it like, all the time. Overthinks. Gets nervous. Rumlow picks up on it. They just end up going to sleep, unsatisfied and she ends up feeling like a total failure as a person.

It's a combination of things that keeps her on edge. The fact that she can't remember the actual first time that they fucked-- or... any time, for that matter. The fact that he's so much older than her and obviously more worldly and she... is not. She's had like... three entire boyfriends. One of them didn't even really count! One of them cheated on her and she caught him in the act, which she remembers now and it's throwing her off even more. There's also the fact that this marriage isn't really a marriage. Their relationship, whatever that might be, is temporary and what if she can't give him what he wants? He won't stick around.

She wants him to stick around.

Kenzi has a crush on her own husband and is too nervous to take advantage of it. How lame is that?

She also hasn't even seen what he's working with, yet. She's felt it. Pressed up against him while making out, sleeping in the same bed, she knows it's there. She wants to see it!

...Which is why she's being quiet as a mouse, moving across their bedroom floor to sneak up to the en suite master bath and press herself up close to the door frame. Honestly, she could just walk in there. She could pretend to be brushing her teeth or something, but it's easier to get a good look from this vantage point. The creeper vantage point. Just gotta wait until Rumlow turns around... ]

[comesfrompain]

[Unlike Kenzi, Rumlow hasn't been overly preoccupied with sex. Not because he doesn't want to fuck his wife -- the long make out sessions reminiscent of his teenage years are indicative enough of that. It's just that Kenzi is so wound up about it, she psychs herself out. So he's being patient, figuring that at some point, that want is gonna win out in a big way.

He likes it more when they come to him.

Today, he's just going about his business, coming out of the shower and toweling off his hair. The mirror is still fogged and the fan is on, so he has no idea that there's a visitor just on the other side of the door. Shifting to the side, he hangs up the towel and grabs his comb from the counter, absently brushing his hair into the position he wants it to dry in. Then comes the deodorant, Rumlow turning around to grab it from the shelves that primarily contain Kenzi's beauty products or whatever.

As he lifts an arm to apply it, Rumlow is totally unaware he's giving his wife the exact view she's looking for.]

[onteamdyson]

[Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhholy shit... that-- wow. He's... ripped. Totally shredded. As if that wasn't obvious, it's just more pronounced straight out of the shower and back muscles flexing as he moves his arms.

When he turns around she follows the lines of his body. Down from his chest, along the definition of his twelve pack? BAKER'S DOZEN? 48 piece combo? It's ridiculous. He's ridiculous. There's no way he's real, he's totally photoshopped or made in a lab. Custom ordered.

Then the sharp lines of his hips and the definition there, all the way to--

What. Wait, what? .... Yeah, okay, he's got a nice dick, BUT WHAT IS--]

Oh my god. [She straightens suddenly, pushing the door wide open and staring at him with he jaw practically on the floor.]

Is your dick PIERCED?!

[comesfrompain]

[Startled by the door suddenly snapping open and smacking into the wall, Rumlow jumps a bit, hands already going into fists. He hasn't raised them or anything, and he relaxes them by the time he notices it's just Kenzi. He instead wiggles a finger in his ear, having been recently deafened by her outburst. He glances down at the piercing in his cock after, since she made mention of it and shrugs a shoulder.

He doesn't remember getting it, but obviously it's a thing that happened. He's just glad it's something he's clearly had for a while. No need to worry about healing or sensitivity or whatever.]

Apparently.

[He answers dryly, peering back up at her with an expectant expression. Rumlow doesn't actually mind her spying on him or even seeing him naked, but he'd like an explanation as to why. Is she really so shy that she couldn't just ask?

Then again, he hasn't exactly asked to see her naked, either. Maybe he ought to, now that she's gotten her eyeful.]

[onteamdyson]

Why didn't you tell me?!

[Because it's something she should remember about the dude that put a ring on it. Also, how the frick would he bring that up naturally in a conversation? Use your brain, Kenz.

Still.

She seems more concerned about the fact that she doesn't know which body parts Rumlow has pierced than the fact that she just scared/deafened him with her not-so-subtle explanation.]

See? This is what I mean. It's weird. This shit is so weird. I should know that about you, shouldn't I? Shit.

[It kinda justifies why she's felt so nervous about banging him. They don't even know each other.]

[comesfrompain]

Hey Kenzi. [Rumlow pauses.] My dick's pierced.

[Enjoy the little joke, wife. But she's right. This is weird. I mean, unless they never did consummate their marriage. A cock piercing might not be something brought up in conversation if all they were doing is marrying for her green card. Thing is, he still doesn't remember.

Rumlow shrugs again. He doesn't know the answer. Might not for a while -- his memory is pretty unreliable. Between some images sharp and others dull, the contradictions and the lack of information, Rumlow has been mostly making due as best he can with what he's got. He wants to know more, of course, but the literal warning signs have been keeping him mostly quiet.]

Anyway, your turn.

[He says, trying to keep the conversation light, rather than going down existential crisis road. He is, after all, naked.]

[onteamdyson]

[Ffffffffffff... dammit, she didn't mean to laugh at that. Ugh, she hates that she's smiling instead of freaking out. He calms her down so easily, disarms her panic like he's been doing it for years. How else would he have that kind of effect on her if she didn't know him.

Unless she just thinks she knows him.

Before she can go off on another thought spiral of anxiety and conspiracy theories, he goes and says something else. Her turn... for the shower? Or... oh.]

What? No. This isn't show and tell!

[comesfrompain]

[Brows lifting, Rumlow tilts his head and begins to walk towards her. Kenzi's chickening out again, but maybe if he gives her a little nudge in the right direction? She doesn't retreat, so he stops in front of her, chewing his lip as he gives her an intense stare. He's already undressing her in his mind, imagining what she's like without the layers of clothing, supplemented by how she feels against him when they kiss.

She can probably tell what he's up to, especially if he continues. Being naked kind of gives it away. Rumlow's breath comes in slow, pupils dilating. He says nothing for a few moments, but then, he just grins.]

Guess I'll just have to go get dressed then.

[Rumlow cups Kenzi's cheek before he drops his hand and begins to walk past her. Wait for it...]

ACTION; Sometime May 10

[onteamdyson]

[It's been quiet. Toooooooo quiet. Not in a creepy, someone's up to something kind of way, though... the sheriff is definitely up to something. No, it's quiet as in Rumlow's said like five words to her lately and been spending WAY more time at the gym than usual. It's weird! He's not... physically distant. Just mentally. Emotionally? Whatever, it's not like they're some super solid thing or she expects him to legit date her on the regular or whatevs.

... Okay, maybe it's kinda like that. Maybe she thought they were close to something like that and now it's kinda shaky. There's all these memories in the way, conflicting lives, people from the past randomly coming out of the woodwork. It's tricky. It's complicated, sure, but that doesn't mean they should get weird around each other. Right? RIGHT! Kenzi's determined to get to the bottom of this and confront her not!husband on his weird silence.

It's why she's at the gym right now on her day off. It's why she's marching over to the bench Rumlow's sitting on, ponytail swinging behind her as she moves to stand D I R E C T L Y in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest like it's at all imposing. Check this eyebrow lift, Brock. She means business.]

So you workout 80 hours a week now? Cool. Nice. Good to know. [The attitude is EVIDENT!]

[comesfrompain]

[Every day there's a new memory, it seems. One he wakes up with, dripping from his subconscious like an ichor. Thick and heavy, unfinished. There are pieces missing, things Rumlow doesn't understand. Why? The question that lingers. Why would SHIELD have him do these things? Interrogation, sure. But beating someone near to death? Sure, they were a little shady, but torture seems a little beyond that.

It isn't even the worst part. Of course it isn't. He has to fulfill the cliche, doesn't he? So Rumlow grew a little distant. The last few days he's been trying to process it. Decide whether it's real or some sleeper implants, designed to test him or something. It's an escape and he knows it. Hates that it feels like running away, but he's got to be sure. Has to know that whatever's in his head is real. Because if he's going to accept it, he's got to come to terms with the fact that every blow, every punch, every impact of his fist into that man's skull felt good. That the drip of blood onto the floor was a part of the song as the man grunted and gasped, gurgling the blood that filled his broken mouth.

Rumlow blinks. Kenzi. She's standing before him, giving him a look that Rumlow knows means he's in trouble. She's noticed. Of course she's noticed. She is his wife, after all and not stupid. She can tell he's been isolating. Avoiding. He blinks again.]

That all it's been?

[He says, deflecting. It's not that he doesn't trust her. It's just, this is something Kenzi doesn't need to know. Doesn't need to find out. Her world is already unsteady and Rumlow knows he's one of the few steady points left within it. If he shakes that foundation -- he's not interested in letting her fall.]

To be fair, Kenzi, it is my job to be here, and y'know. Gotta get in my own workout too.

[onteamdyson]

Oh, so you got jokes? Jokes and a bod. Weird. Maybe I'd notice these things more if, I don't know, you weren't totally avoiding me?

[She's onto him. Something's up, she just doesn't know what it is. Even if she wasn't so damn perceptive and intuitive, you start to pick up on things when you live with someone. World-shaking, life-altering events aside, she wants to help. The 'you're in trouble face' is only because she knows he's trying to hide shit from her.

Her arms uncross themselves and she puts her hands on his sweaty, giant shoulders and lightly shakes him.]

If you wanna get all technical, it's my job to check up on you and annoy you until you crack and tell me why you're stonewalling. No more weights until you tell me what's up. Are we getting a divorce? Are you in love with your heavy bag? Do you wanna see other facilities? Is that it?!

[comesfrompain]

[See, this is why he'd been taking a step back. If he'd been around, she'd have noticed those thousand yard stares like he's got PTSD from this shit. 'Course now she notices anyway, because the absence is just as glaring. No real winning there. At least she's not so worried that she's lost her sense of humor.

Rumlow huffs a laugh, his hands coming up to circle around her wrists. He's not pulling them away, just holding her. The weights sit on either side of the bench and Rumlow's feet draw in to tuck them against the bottom so no one trips.]

We're not getting a divorce and no, 's much as I like rolling around on the floor with Sally, we ain't involved like that.

[He pauses. What can he even tell her? He hasn't destroyed the cameras here, so if he says he's getting back memories, that shit's on the record. No need to entice the authorities. He glances up towards where he knows one is. He hopes Kenzi will catch on.]

Just having a few thoughts about my time in the service. [He says, deciding to go for something that'll placate both her and any unwanted listeners. His gaze draws back down.] Things you see there, y'know. Hard to shake.

[onteamdyson]

Okay, that's actually a relief, because now I don't have to cut a bitch and spill her insides all over the place.

[She doesn't want to admit just how much of an actual relief that is. Seriously, it's kind of embarrassing how attached she is. It's also really ill advised considering the situation they're in. They could be lying to each other through their teeth! There is literally nothing keeping them together, no common thread that connects them that she can recall.

It's trust that keeps her here. She trusts Rumlow and has faith that he's telling her the truth like she's been telling him.]

Riiiight. The service. [Even without that glance to the camera that she now knows better than to acknowledge, she'd get that he meant something else entirely. All the veterans here think they served together, when it's really just a cover. Another vague memory to hide the truth. Whatever he's actually having thoughts about, it's really throwing him off.]

I'm no shrink, but I feel like even Freud would agree with me that pumping iron and getting jacked with something like that on your mind is a recipe for bodily harm. Why didn't you say anything?

[comesfrompain]

There's not a lot to say, sweetheart.

[Not a lot that he'd like to tell her anyway. Part of it is because he doesn't really know what these thoughts really are, at least. It's something they've all suffered from. Not knowing what's real and what's not. The blank spaces that make you paranoid when you dwell on them.

He gives her wrists a little squeeze, hands moving up her arms to draw her closer. It's not even really that he wants to push her away. It just seems like a necessity.]

Just somethin' I gotta deal with in my own head. [He plasters on a smile.] I appreciate you caring enough to come in here with all the sweat, though. Gonna have to shower like crazy to get the man-stink off.

[onteamdyson]

[For some reason, she doesn't buy that, but she's not gonna press the matter. Especially not with the squeezing and the closeness and the-- uggggh. Killing the mood with the mention of man-stink. She makes a face, rolling her eyes but not pulling away.]

How much do you appreciate it? Because you're... incredibly sweaty right now. You're like... the sweatiest dude of all time and this is suffering. I'm sacrificing my fresh and clean to be here right now.

[Such sacrifice. Such leaning in. Such kiss.]

Oh my god-- I just realized... I am way too good for you! What am I even doing here? I should go. I totally should go.

[comesfrompain]

[Humming at the kiss, Rumlow lets his mind calm for a moment. It's not so different as when he's sparring. Though if he had to choose, kissing would come first. Feels better. Except this one's over too soon.

He blinks at her declaration, taking a second before he realizes. His hands tighten and he grins, dragging her down onto the bench with him. She's doomed now. Rumlow's arms snake around her and she's lucky he's wearing a shirt. Or is it unlucky? Either way, Kenzi now has a nice coating of his sweat on her. (Not like it's the first time.)]

Can't go now. Not after showing me how much you care.

[A nice tease to come back at her after that little barb.]