comesfrompain | [ to-do list ]

[ to-do list ]

1) Put Rogers' head on a spike
2) Take over Hell
3) Unbreak Bucky's dick
4) Buy milk

[Rumlow might not need his past to care about him, but Bucky felt as if he did. How was he to accept the choices that he made and understand the person he had become if he couldn't recall everything that had made that possible? The pieces that he had now didn't even make up a single picture, and it was frustrating even if he made certain not to let it show. He thought it would be better for them both to understand where he had come from, the deeds that he had done for HYDRA and maybe even understand some of the unanswered whys for what had happened to him. Maybe, just maybe, it would allow them to build something that wasn't based on being part of HYDRA but honest to God experiences.]

If... you're leaving HYDRA, everything needs to go. All the programming, all the molding that they did to you. Keep what makes you you, but otherwise, the rest has to go. [And maybe it was unspoken that if he was going to have to follow along in Rumlow's wake that the same would apply to him as well. That Rumlow contemplated control of him never entered his mind; he was too raw.]

I suspect you would leave me behind in leaving HYDRA. Until I can remember things, HYDRA is my basis of operation. Their rules, their needs, their programming. [He could understand the fear; he was still living it right as they spoke because the idea of Rumlow walking away from all of that was jarring to every sense of the man that he had. Somehow it felt as if his world was on its head and wasn't likely to correct itself any time soon until he could think and compartmentalize.

He bowed his head slightly, feeling the brush of Rumlow's lips on his skin, the warmth of it spreading from the cold of his previously dropped body temperature. Being upset seemed to have that effect on him. He looked at the glass shard in his hand and then set it back on the table with the others, abandoning it there as he closed his eyes and forced himself to both breathe and lean against the lips against his temple.

Time. They had plenty of that. It's what he needed now.]

We'll... make this work.

[A tall order and one Rumlow suspected was impossible. It took regular soldiers years to deprogram from what the military ingrained in them, he couldn't imagine how long it would take to change someone like him. Bucky said he could keep what was him, but where was that line? What part of Rumlow was HYDRA and what part wasn't? He didn't know. He'd lived too long within its confines to really understand the difference.

He knew what Bucky was trying to accomplish, but Rumlow didn't think it wise. Not only was the training HYDRA gave him important, it was useful, here in Hell. Imperative, if he wanted to build his own organization. The attachment to HYDRA itself, that he could lose, but beyond that, Rumlow didn't want to let go.

Rumlow planted another kiss onto Bucky's temple, both arms wrapped around him now, as if he could keep him safe, keep him grounded. Even if he had been the one to un-tether him in the first place, the last thing Rumlow wanted was for Bucky to be lost in his purpose. They would have to redefine parameters, hoping that would work still.]

I'm not sure there's a lot of me that isn't HYDRA at this point, Bucky. They had me for so many years. I was still a kid when I was brought into the fold.

[Rumlow shut his eyes, staring at the backs of his eyelids.]

But if you're talkin' about breaking the programming that makes it hard for me to tell you how I feel when I wake up and find you there, how goddamn happy you make me, in spite of everything -- that you make me forget ever fucking suffering in my life. Then yeah. I could stand to lose that.

[There was a slight smile about his lips, a fond thought passing through an otherwise tumultuous moment.]

We will make it work. I'd never expect anything to happen overnight, Bucky. I got a lotta patience when it comes to you, котенок.

[Maybe it was desperation on his part to say that, to think for a moment that HYDRA and the person they had sank their hooks into could shed that identity like a skin. Maybe that's all that he wanted right now, given that it still felt as if the idea of Rumlow leaving HYDRA behind created some insurmountable mountain where he could not follow, where he was stuck waiting in the programming that felt like it might forever hold him. Was this going to be the moment where he fought back against it though?

It was back to reality with Rumlow's logical point, that HYDRA was everywhere, that it would always hold part of them forever. Maybe it was like a second family, one that took all the frustration at the world and gave it a safe place to be put to a more useful form. Of course HYDRA had taught them all useful skills, had put forward a platform where Rumlow could excel. It wasn't likely any of those skills should be lost, and a clean break might never be possible.

It still felt like some kind of betrayal to even be talking about this, talking about leaving, breaking things down. A shiver ran the length of him as if he were waiting for the ruse to end, Rumlow to laugh and then send him for a good and thorough wiping. Testing his loyalties. HYDRA did that. He felt like a failure, and that was always unacceptable, which made everything about this painful.

He still settled in Rumlow's grip, dropped his flesh hand to the other man's thigh and gave it a pat and a squeeze. What else could he do? If he closed his eyes too long, the blackness seemed like it might swallow him whole. Certainly his body felt cold and even if the temperature around him was starting to return to normal again, he knew something had just broken.]

I know. [And he did. Experience made them, and HYDRA had been a massive part of Rumlow's life. It always would be.] Is it the programming that makes it difficult, or the fact you've never had to open yourself up to someone else before like you do with me?

[The words, their implications, did move him. It hurt. Sometimes he found being pleased and happy and all those positive emotions came with as much pain as the negative ones.]

You've been sitting on this since you arrived months ago. Why did you wait so long to tell me?

[Things were better, but they still weren't great. Rumlow knew that. Could tell that Bucky was still lost in the revelation. How could he blame him though? It was probably a natural reaction to try and reject everything, to start from scratch rather than pick up the pieces from the shattered illusion. Rumlow wasn't sure, this was unfamiliar territory.

He huffed to think that was a lot of what he dealt with when Bucky was involved. The biggest contributor to how differently he viewed his world, now. Rumlow stroked over his back, gathering into his hair and just touched him, held him, kept him near. The physical representation, he thought, of how he just wanted to support him.]

Both, I'd say. [A small, quiet laugh escaped him.] Ain't exactly ever been the most emotional guy.

[Rumlow rest his forehead against Bucky's shoulder, taking in a slow, shuddering breath. So many feelings were still bottled up inside him, trying to escape and fighting against the cage he kept them in -- the fear of showing this vulnerability in such a setting keeping him from letting it all out. He would speak, in quiet tones, but he couldn't let himself come apart like he knew he might, if they were alone.

Even now, in a moment as serious as this, HYDRA's training kept him in check.]

I... I thought you'd leave. [His arms wrapped tighter around him.] Guess I was afraid. It would mean I failed. Even now, I feel like I might have. Only thing that's keeping me from freaking the fuck out's you. Guess there ain't no protocol when you love someone.

[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!

[The sudden tension in Bucky's body triggered an immediate alarm bell within Rumlow, but he wasn't quick enough. He'd never really be on par with the Winter Soldier. The table flipped over, ripped from the floor where it had been bolted down and Bucky was running. Rumlow stared in shock for a second, two. The reprimanding voice went equally ignored as Rumlow shot into action.

There were so many demons in the way, flooding the open space with their curiosity, blood roiling at the thought of a fight. Rumlow could have shoved past them, but it would have taken valuable time. Instead he coiled that power within him, and the sound of air instantly filling a void was heard, a thick, pitch black cloud appearing in his wake.

Already out of the building, Rumlow spotted Bucky running, turning down the alley and he sped off after him. He couldn't teleport to where he couldn't see, so he pounded the pavement, quick as his legs would carry him. Bucky was faster, but Rumlow knew, as soon as he caught a glimpse of his location, he could port over and make up for the gap. He sucked in air as he rounded the bend, tail whipping behind him.

His heart ached, and Rumlow knew it had nothing to do with exertion. He got more than enough cardio -- no, this had to do with Bucky's choice. He ran. Rumlow had said it and Bucky's first instinct was to escape. He hadn't heard Bucky's words, not amidst the commotion. He could only guess it had been because of what he'd said.

Rumlow spotted Bucky soon enough, but he wasn't running anymore. His fists shattering the brick and hissing out something that he couldn't make out. The sound of his teleporting cracked through the air, echoing in the alleyway as Rumlow appeared beside Bucky, not wanting him to run again, once he noticed him coming. It was then the words became clear and Rumlow's arms shot out, running the risk of getting pummeled as surely as the wall. He stopped him from punching, grabbing his wrists, and swiftly turning him and dragging him into his arms.]

No one's gonna take me away, Bucky. No one.

[Rumlow growled it, firm in his assertion. He'd slaughter a fucking army for this man. If he died, he'd just come back and do it all over again.]

You're not gonna lose me. I'm here.

[His fists pummeled the wall, stone chipping off and flying from his metal fist and cutting open his knuckles on the right. He didn't notice the slap of wetness painting the stone, only found relief in the release of all this emotion and the familiar burn of pain that came with putting his flesh to the test. Chips of wall hit his chest, glanced off of his face, scraped his neck, but he continued punching until he thought maybe, just maybe, he could go numb and chase away the thoughts that circulated.

Natalia had loved him, had cared, had been worth risking everything for, and he saw how much it haunted her. How losing him had devastated her. HYDRA had taken him away to punish her, to destroy her ability to resist and yet he was too important an asset to simply kill off. They had removed her, removed his ability to even care and be close to another person physically. Only in the last days had he come to break down his programming enough to accomplish anything like that. They would take it all away if they found out Rumlow loved him, had broken free enough to form that kind of bond with the likes of him.

No. No, this time they would surely make an example of Rumlow. They would make him take his commander apart at the seams, make him listen to the man's screams, make him hold that bloody heart in his hands. He would have to look Rumlow in the eye and feel himself break into pieces. And then they would wipe him. They would scrub him clean so he could never fully explain the massive hole that he felt inside of him.

His right fist bloody, his left covered in stone powder, he froze when he felt Rumlow's hands on his wrists. That touch was familiar; he would know a handler with his eyes closed and all of his other senses taken away. It was even more potent with Rumlow, and he didn't fight as he was forced into a hug. He shook, feeling weak, feeling exposed because demons were watching, clearly glad for the unexplained entertainment. His mask had slipped, and he shook in Rumlow's arms.]

You know. [His voice was quiet, rambling in unexplained fear.] You know what they can do to you. What they will make me do to you. They've done it before, and there are no second chances for something like this... they'll make me take you apart.

[He buried his face into Rumlow's shoulder, still shaking uncontrollably, only the low sound of his blood dripping and sizzling on the ground at their feet punctuating how little he was in control.]

You can't love me. They'll take it away, and I can't let you go.

[Clinging to Bucky as surely as he was to him, Rumlow let him shudder and shake. There was a tightness in his chest, an overwhelming sensation that Rumlow had to fulfill. He needed Bucky happy, needed to strip away his fears, reassure him that nothing in Hell would ever pull them apart. He felt himself choke up at how powerful this emotion was. It dug deep into him, wrapped around his heart like a mass of ever tightening coils. He held Bucky, buried his face next to his and realized he was shaking enough to match.

How had they come to this?

Rumlow was damaged though. He didn't do sadness. The pricking at his eyes wasn't grief, it was fury. A thick, heavy feeling that tightened his muscles, made him taste blood in his mouth before he realized how he'd bitten his cheek. He curled his lip and huffed out a breath, blinking wetness from his eyes, the manifestation of his frustration. That he couldn't save Bucky from his fear.]

Never. [He growled it, spat it out.] I will rule this place, Bucky. Rule it so no one can ever, ever take us apart. I'll tear this place apart with my teeth if I gotta.

[He clung tighter. Tipped his head and kissed Bucky's cheek, dragged in the scent of him, tinged with the faint smell of blood to go along with the taste in his mouth. This was his. His Soldier, from now until the universe decided to collapse in upon itself. That fierce, powerful loyalty he felt for the man in his arms rocking through him as surely as the blood that once pumped through his veins.]

[Rumlow was shaking. He was shaking. They were both shaking, perhaps exposing themselves to a vulnerability that the residents of Hell could see plain as day. They said that nothing good could survive Hell, nothing good ever came out it, and yet, for as much as everything hurt, a part of him certainly didn't regret this either. He didn't regret being loved by the people that did, even if his own emotions were often twisted and mutilated, and it was often difficult for him to sort through his own feelings on the matter.

He ignored the whispers, the chuckling, and even the catcall as Rumlow held him tight and slowly his hands managed to unclench from the tight balls he held them in and reach out. His fingers caught and fisted in Rumlow's shirt, balling the material and not even regretting that he was smearing his blood either. This was as much as he could hold Rumlow back, assuring himself that they were still here, that all this raw emotion was not going to tear him apart.

He shuddered at the growling conviction in Rumlow's voice, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and hold it. Out it went and then the next drawn in, held and exhaled.] I trust you. I've never met anyone with conviction like yours.

[Finally, slowly, he turned his head, pressing his lips to Rumlow's temple and buried his nose into the hard base of Rumlow's horn, breathing in the spicy scent. His fingers balled tighter in Rumlow's shirt because what else could he do right now with everything feeling like it was in tatters?

Was this rock bottom? Was this the moment when the real fight began, where his programming had less hold on him and he could slip his leash? Was this that moment? Was he going to waste it even if it wasn't?

No.]

We should... go back inside. Or go somewhere else. I don't want to make a scene that will end with demons regretting their decision to stare at us.

[The moment began to calm. Rumlow could feel Bucky begin to relax, begin to accept him. Override the programming that had him trying to escape and avoid the horrors of punishment that Bucky dreaded. Rumlow smiled a little at the kiss, but as the blood rushing in his ears subsided, he began to hear the others. The wall around them crumbled and Rumlow's ears pricked at the mutterings of their demonic observers.

His hands swept up Bucky's back and bunched in his shirt, then his hair. He tipped his head back, nose nuzzling against his face, the rough of his stubble until his mouth found his. The kiss was soft, it was brief. Much as he wanted to dive into something more passionate, for once he wasn't glad to have an audience.]

I do.

[His tail flicked and the long barbs shot out, menacing in the dark of the alleyway. Rumlow stepped back, carefully drawing Bucky's hands from his shirt. It was stained in blood already, what was getting a little more on it? He looked into Bucky's eyes, a certain fierceness reflected in his own. Like Hell was he going to let these pieces of shit mock what they had.

He meant it when he said he'd rule. And what better way to do so then putting the masses in their place? Rumlow bared his teeth and crack, vanished in a cloud of black. When he reappeared, it was in the midst of the crowd, tail whipping around like a flail, barbs stabbing into bodies. Flicking a knife from his pocket, Rumlow brought that into the fray, punching with one fist, stabbing with the other. Arterial spray arched through the air and spattered on Rumlow's face.]

Get fucked.

[He growled, shoving the blade underneath a demon's chin and watching his eyes roll back and shut.]

[He leaned into the touch, soaking it up and letting the assurance of it build his walls back up again, to hide the rawness of this experience. He felt drained, washed out, but the kiss alone was enough to remind him that he wasn't alone. They would take Hell on, and they would make it better. He would make serious efforts on breaking down his programming as well, so that he could serve Rumlow has a partner and not simply a weapon as was his normal capacity.

Bucky blinked at Rumlow's response, feeling his blood stir sluggishly as he glanced towards the crowd of amused mocking onlookers. He knew that look from Rumlow, and he allowed his hands to be disengaged before the other demon was gone in a puff of black smoke, and he knew without being told what was going to happen. He flexed his bloody hand, splitting them open again as he reached for the knives that he had hid along the waistline of his trousers. Spinning one into hand, he advanced.

The air around him cooled and seem to condense with frost, before he slammed his metal hand into the wall that he walked beside. At the end of the alley, a sharp shard of ice exploded out, ripping into bodies like a fragmentation grenade. He reached the crowd as bodies hit the floor writhing, dancing through them with sweeps of his knives that sliced through flesh, ripped through veins.

He twisted, swaying, ducked and dodged, coming up under guards, kneeing a demon into a parked car and spattering the wind shield with blood. The body then became a shield against gun fire and then a projectile as he threw it into another group of demons. A few were taking flight, but those that stayed... he stamped a foot and ice shards exploded up from the pavement, imbedding in feet, legs and flailing arm.

He returned to systematically moving through the lingering crown, some too high to do more than cheer and have no idea what they were cheering for. He took them apart with knife blade and ice.]

[When bullets came into play, so did Rumlow's teleportation. Thick clouds of black smoke filled the air as he moved from one place to the next, efficiently wielding both blade and tail. Bucky's own addition to the fray did monumental damage, those powers of his coming in handy. Rumlow caught a demon getting skewered by a long icicle out of the corner of his eye right before he disappeared again, only to appear beside his partner. His tail flashed and wrapped around a demon's throat, squeezing tight and snapping his neck. It slithered away and Rumlow looked back at Bucky, a brief expression of adoration crossing his face.

They worked with deadly efficiency, reducing the crowd to bleeding bodies, dead, dismembered. Rumlow's knife dripped with thick red blood, face smeared with it, clothes ruined. He huffed a laugh, watching a demon try to crawl away, only to have another of Bucky's ice shards slit his throat. Seemed that was the last of them though, the escapees far beyond their reach. Let them run, he thought. Spread the word that they weren't to be fucked with.

Rumlow took in a breath, bent over and wiped the blood off his knife on the shirt of one of the corpses. He straightened, tucking it back into his pocket and looked to Bucky. The grin on his face was nothing short of shit-eating, the adrenaline of the fight pumping through his veins. He stepped over, grabbing the front of Bucky's shirt, not caring about the blood smearing into his palm, and tugged him close. Rumlow kissed him then, proper this time.

Nipped at his bottom lip while he pushed his other hand through Bucky's hair. He kissed him over and over. Poured all he felt into it. Earned them a few more catcalls, but it didn't matter. He had his Bucky, right here, he'd fought for him and he'd never stop.]

[They were a highly effective team, moving through their writhing opponents with a swift ease that allowed them to slipped passed each other. He never felt at risk of causing Rumlow damage, felt the caress of black smoke that came with the other man's teleportation, and the hot spray of blood that sometimes froze midair. It was, perhaps, the first time that he had been able to employ his power outside of the house, the first time that it could be used as a weapon rather than simply cooling the air. It was novel and yet he felt as if there were no risks to each other.

It almost seemed too quick that it was over, his clothing and face spattered with blood, his hair clinging to his cheeks and the twitching bodies of broken demons at their feet. He glanced around to make certain that there was no one in range before he turned his attention to Rumlow, doing a quick sweep of his eyes to make certain that there were no serious injuries present. Scrapes and bruises were par for the course but anything more than that... but there was nothing apparent. Rumlow seemed to be in high spirits.

Slowly, he bent and cleaned his knives, though they would need something more thorough when they finally returned home. The hilts were still sticky with the stuff, and he raised an eyebrow at the grin on Rumlow's face, unable to help how his lips twitched upwards in response. He sighed as their lips came together, sliding his metal arm across the back of Rumlow's shoulders and then curling his wings around them to offer some small sliver of privacy. He was almost overwhelmed by the strength of Rumlow's feelings, drowning in them and feeling all that fear shoved down further and further.

He gripped Rumlow's shirt in his hand and kissed back, pouring his own broken and sometimes confused emotions into the gesture. There was the sound of distant sirens, and that was perhaps the only thing that forced him away.]

We should be gone from this place. Come. [He took Rumlow's hand, pulling away and tugging his lover to follow him as he lead them from the alley]

[The sudden shade Rumlow surmised was from Bucky's wings, hearing the telltale rustle of feathers. Fine by him. Offer some privacy while they kissed. The moment stretched out between them, Rumlow getting lost in the taste, the sensation -- at least until he too, was broken from it by the sound of sirens.

He licked at his lips, took Bucky's hand and nodded. Rumlow followed Bucky, letting him lead them out of the alleyway, stepping over the bodies they had left behind. They trailed through the winding streets, making sure they were on their way home while avoiding the main thoroughfares. Eventually they slowed, no longer worried about being pursued. Rumlow's fingers were threaded in Bucky's, holding tight to that hand even if he didn't need to be.

They came to a stop a block from the house and Rumlow looked around for a moment, sweeping back his hair. He chewed his lip, looking at Bucky. Looking at the person his heart thudded for. Crowding in, Rumlow wrapped an arm around his waist, pulled him flush. He kissed him again, not yet ready to deal with the kids and their questions about how they looked. Still high from the fight, from the flood of emotions that had nearly drowned them both.

Rumlow broke away, forehead pressing against Bucky's to stare into his eyes.]

You're my goddamn world, Bucky.

[On their meandering back to their own neck of Little Hades, he withdrew his wings into his flesh again. They were in the way, easily identified along with his metal arm, and they had already ruined his shirt. In fact, he was certain most of his clothing was ruined. It wasn't as if he had been avoiding the blood as much as he probably should have been, but in the heat of the moment, it hadn't seemed necessary.

Now the adrenaline was waxing, and he felt a deep exhaustion that had more to do with all the emotional upheaval than anything that he had done physically. It would have been easy to drift off on some mental tangent, analyzing what had happened, what had been said, his own mixed up emotions on the matter, but the tangle of their fingers together grounded him on the present.

He looked down the street towards the house that they rented with Chase and reached up with his metal hand to wipe at the dried blood that clung to his skin. It itched a bit, and it flaked off when he rubbed at it, but there was a lot more where it had come from. At least his clothing was dark; it hid a lot of the mess that had been made of his casual attire.

Bucky hummed softly as Rumlow once more crowded him, though there was no wall to be pushed up against. He simply rooted himself, leaning into the solid weight in front of him and closed his eyes as they kissed, sharing yet another tireless show of affection. He still felt exhausted, drained and somewhat empty, and he found himself peering into Rumlow's brown eyes before he had to close them at the words that washed over him. He nodded his head, taking in a deep breath.]

I think... I understand that now. [He squeezed where their fingers were still tangled together.] I feel so empty, like all of my emotions have fled and I'm just this empty shell that might be something more after some sleep. Is that normal?

Honestly can't say.

[Rumlow answered. He wasn't upset. He understood that things like this were hard -- for both of them. Neither really had the experience, and Rumlow was going with his gut on this. On the point of sleep though, he agreed. He too, was emotionally exhausted, dredging up the past and then nearly losing Bucky in quick succession. An eventful date neither of them would forget anytime soon.

Rubbing his hand up and down Bucky's back, Rumlow tilted his head forward and gave Bucky a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. He unwound his arms, squeezing their hands together. They were nearly home. Rumlow fully planned on showering and flopping on their bed for the rest of the night.]

But we'll get through it. Pass out and process, and in the morning, I'll be there. Now c'mon. Maybe we can sneak into the shower before the kids play twenty questions.

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cw: mentions of imagined torture

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THE END?