[Rumlow was stoic, he would say. The man could also manipulate demons out of their clothing if he was on his game, and Rumlow also knew how to read any situation and somehow manage to find the best outcome available. That wasn't all HYDRA, though he had no doubt that it had been refined by the people within the ranks. However, given what he knew of Rumlow, the man was not overly emotional, could compartmentalize and hide in plain sight any emotion that the man happened to be feeling.
Yet, it felt as if they were both vulnerable right now, raw and exposed. It was not a comfortable sensation to experience. It felt as if a part of his world had come undone, and more than a few layers of skin had been peeled off to reveal the redness beneath. Maybe this was what being skinned alive felt like?
The physical contact grounded him, might have even been the only reason he didn't try to clean up glass shards and spilled beer on their table. The excuse to get up and move around never seemed to come with Rumlow's hand on him, offering him something that this situation couldn't. Sometimes their support of one another was purely physical and where Rumlow had never been an overtly emotional man, he was definitely one that employed touch. It felt lame that he sometimes couldn't employ either.
Yet, he still had a hand on Rumlow's thigh, assuring himself that they were together here in this corner, that the demons of Hell were all moving along their own lives without them, taking little to no notice.
And when he thought he might be grounded enough to make it through the rest of the night in the pub, Rumlow had to drop the second bombshell on him. He froze yet again when Rumlow openly confessed loving him, and he made a soft surprised choking sound in his throat.]
I can't breathe...!
[There was panic widening his eyes as he tightened his hand on Rumlow's thigh and the sheer idea that anyone could care enough to love him simply sent his bristling programming completely on the fritz. No one could love him; he was a weapon. He wasn't allowed to care. He clawed at his cheeks and then literally flipped their table over to leave himself enough room to shoot from where he was sitting next to Rumlow.]
Hey, what are you doin' over there knocking shit over?!
You can't... they'll kill you. They'll make me kill you... I can't kill you because... I lo...
[He shouldered passed the bartender stomping over to investigate, taking flight from the crowded pub, smashing open the door and crashing out into the street beyond. He fled, sprinting through crowds of mingling demons, his wings shredding the back of his shirt as he went as he swept anyone who stood in his way aside.
Love. Rumlow couldn't. They would take Rumlow away. If the emotions were that deep, they would steal Rumlow from him like they once did Natalia. He'd be scrubbed clean, forced to endure, made to break Rumlow down. No HYDRA and now love... he couldn't.
Bucky ducked down into an alley, pacing a few steps before he began to punch the wall, making sounds of a wounded animal through clenched teeth.]
They'll take him away. Take him away. They'll take him away!
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Date: 2017-01-10 03:47 pm (UTC)Yet, it felt as if they were both vulnerable right now, raw and exposed. It was not a comfortable sensation to experience. It felt as if a part of his world had come undone, and more than a few layers of skin had been peeled off to reveal the redness beneath. Maybe this was what being skinned alive felt like?
The physical contact grounded him, might have even been the only reason he didn't try to clean up glass shards and spilled beer on their table. The excuse to get up and move around never seemed to come with Rumlow's hand on him, offering him something that this situation couldn't. Sometimes their support of one another was purely physical and where Rumlow had never been an overtly emotional man, he was definitely one that employed touch. It felt lame that he sometimes couldn't employ either.
Yet, he still had a hand on Rumlow's thigh, assuring himself that they were together here in this corner, that the demons of Hell were all moving along their own lives without them, taking little to no notice.
And when he thought he might be grounded enough to make it through the rest of the night in the pub, Rumlow had to drop the second bombshell on him. He froze yet again when Rumlow openly confessed loving him, and he made a soft surprised choking sound in his throat.]
I can't breathe...!
[There was panic widening his eyes as he tightened his hand on Rumlow's thigh and the sheer idea that anyone could care enough to love him simply sent his bristling programming completely on the fritz. No one could love him; he was a weapon. He wasn't allowed to care. He clawed at his cheeks and then literally flipped their table over to leave himself enough room to shoot from where he was sitting next to Rumlow.]
Hey, what are you doin' over there knocking shit over?!
You can't... they'll kill you. They'll make me kill you... I can't kill you because... I lo...
[He shouldered passed the bartender stomping over to investigate, taking flight from the crowded pub, smashing open the door and crashing out into the street beyond. He fled, sprinting through crowds of mingling demons, his wings shredding the back of his shirt as he went as he swept anyone who stood in his way aside.
Love. Rumlow couldn't. They would take Rumlow away. If the emotions were that deep, they would steal Rumlow from him like they once did Natalia. He'd be scrubbed clean, forced to endure, made to break Rumlow down. No HYDRA and now love... he couldn't.
Bucky ducked down into an alley, pacing a few steps before he began to punch the wall, making sounds of a wounded animal through clenched teeth.]
They'll take him away. Take him away. They'll take him away!