[Things had been rough, ever since Jefferson's escape. Bucky had picked him up easily enough, but the follow through, making sure he was stable, required all his attention. Rumlow hadn't even realized how much time they spent together until they weren't. He missed him for days, trying to make up for his absence with texts and sneaked phone calls. It wasn't enough.
When Bucky finally returned, it was like two trains colliding. Except instead of twisted metal, it was entwining bodies, fucking rough and hard and desperate. They rarely separated after. When it was time for bed, Rumlow was grateful to finally have Bucky there with him -- he'd taken to crashing on the couch to avoid the thing that lived under his bed.
Now, he was sleeping soundly for the first time in days, content with Bucky's warmth alongside him. Rumlow was so deep asleep, he didn't even realize Bucky had gotten up until a few minutes later, when he shifted, expecting to find a body where there was none. His eyes opened in the dark, blinking to try and focus, find out where Bucky had gone. Palm splayed over the warm vacancy, Rumlow pushed himself upright, sliding across the sheets and out of bed. Padding across the floor, he paused when he heard a murmuring voice coming from the bathroom.
Brows twitching into a frown, Rumlow approached the door, pushing it open. It was still dark, but he could make out Bucky's form -- the metal arm was unmistakable, even in the low light. He groped at the wall, squinting in preparation as his fingers found the switch. Brightness filled the room and Rumlow grimaced while shading his eyes with his other hand.]
Bucky, what are you--
[He cut himself off as he spotted the blade in hand. Gaze flicking between the crimson coloring the edge and the reflection of Bucky's face in the mirror, Rumlow wasn't sure what to say. He stepped closer, hands in view as he carefully put one atop his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.]
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When Bucky finally returned, it was like two trains colliding. Except instead of twisted metal, it was entwining bodies, fucking rough and hard and desperate. They rarely separated after. When it was time for bed, Rumlow was grateful to finally have Bucky there with him -- he'd taken to crashing on the couch to avoid the thing that lived under his bed.
Now, he was sleeping soundly for the first time in days, content with Bucky's warmth alongside him. Rumlow was so deep asleep, he didn't even realize Bucky had gotten up until a few minutes later, when he shifted, expecting to find a body where there was none. His eyes opened in the dark, blinking to try and focus, find out where Bucky had gone. Palm splayed over the warm vacancy, Rumlow pushed himself upright, sliding across the sheets and out of bed. Padding across the floor, he paused when he heard a murmuring voice coming from the bathroom.
Brows twitching into a frown, Rumlow approached the door, pushing it open. It was still dark, but he could make out Bucky's form -- the metal arm was unmistakable, even in the low light. He groped at the wall, squinting in preparation as his fingers found the switch. Brightness filled the room and Rumlow grimaced while shading his eyes with his other hand.]
Bucky, what are you--
[He cut himself off as he spotted the blade in hand. Gaze flicking between the crimson coloring the edge and the reflection of Bucky's face in the mirror, Rumlow wasn't sure what to say. He stepped closer, hands in view as he carefully put one atop his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.]