comesfrompain | [ to-do list ]

[Since moving out of Limbo, his dreams became bloody. There was blood on his hands, on his body, filling him up. It was everywhere, hot and sticky, a taint of blame that he couldn't comprehend even when he jarred awake in the new and more-or-less familiar room that was his own. His bare chest was a mess of drying and dried blood, spatters looking like he had been laying out in the rain.

The source was curled up next to him, a small child with blood-red hair and lips, coy little smile on her lips as she became aware of his state of wakefulness. He pushed his way out of the bed, escaping her needle-like nails as they moved to dig into his side and abandoned his room altogether.

There were closets. He had napped in them before. She always found him there. Even now as he padded silently down the hallway, she ghosted in his wake. He slipped into his commander's room, shutting the door behind him to survey the scene before deciding it was worth approaching what with Rumlow's bed being occupied by the man himself. He glanced back to the door to see the scurry of spiders passing under it, and he sighed through his nose.]

Rumlow. [He didn't reach out to shake his commander awake; that was a good way to get stabbed.] Sir.

[A few hours after this thread]

I encountered someone who knows some of my past. Is this going to be a problem?

Did he actually leave you a note? because that's adorable and mildly embarrassing

so. horns get you horny?
B

Do you know any remedies for the overwhelming urge to put Steve's face into a wall?

[Her night sucks, how's yours?]

saw this and thought of you
rumlowcheckit.jpg

get it?
cuz i wanna sit on it
BOOM SEXTED!
TTYL

Edited 2016-09-16 23:28 (UTC)

psssssssssst
hey b-rock
rumlow
hey.
guess what

"Are you busy?" Kenzi stands in the doorway of Rumlow's office with her head canted and a lollipop in her mouth-- Oh god, what is she wearing? Is that a catholic school girl uniform? Kenzi, what the actual fuck? Her hair is up in high pig tails and her skirt is way too short to be appropriate for a workplace. How did she even get in the building? Right. Thief.

"I don't have an appointment, but I was hoping you could... squeeze me in." Blatant innuendo. The girl has an agenda. She smirks as her tail slowly lifts, getting caught in the hem of her skirt and pulling it up just high enough to get his attention.

She closes the door behind her with the heel of her black pumps. This is what happens when Rumlow works too much overtime. Kenz gets lonely, and freaking bored. So goddamn bored. Clearly she has been hanging out with a lower class of demons at the bar because they've been filling her head with all kinds of ideas lately. And she's had too much time to herself to think on them!

Her hips sway as she approaches his desk and perches on the edge of it, pulling the lollipop out of her mouth with a pop. She looks him over, lifting her foot to push his chair with the toe of her shoe. Back up, Rumlow. Are you getting the idea just yet?

You busy?

[It comes after he finds this on his bed and ponders why it would suddenly appear.]

Why is Kenzi suddenly leaving non-sexual intimacy notes on my bed?

when you get home WE NEED TO TAAAAAALK

(pretend i said that in a nagging wife voice)

[As a general rule, they never met up at work. It was better to keep work-home life separate for the purpose, but it had been a hard shift for some reason so he made an exception to the rule that he followed. The downside to sleeping with someone after so long without was actually hitting the point of wanting to be with them more than he should.

Still, when Rumlow clocked in to the start the 'day shift', he promptly made his appearance, keeping his eyes north of the clavicles.]

Sir, there appears to be a disturbance to your office that was noted. I'd like you to come with me and report if anything is missing of your effects.

[All business. Rumlow would hopefully not see this coming before the trap was sprung.]

[ Several days after this post. ]

do you have a moment?
i have some questions and nobody else i can ask

[This was far more of a casual affair than most of their other dates. It was about being comfortable, and they decided on nothing fancy or classy but rather made their way to one of the many pubs that Hell had. He had vowed not to get drunk this time, to keep it casual and to simply enjoy the evening. He had left Stella quietly in charge or at least his eyes and ears of the household for when Kenzi and Chase would no doubt watch movies too loud and get too drunk or high to be able to actually be functioning adults.

But now, halfway through their night and with a plate of what Hell called nachos and something that might have been chicken wings, they were casually drinking some alcohol and enjoying one another's company in the far corner where both of them could survey the entire room. It was loud, most conversations drowning out their own, which was how they both liked it too.

And he was playing gentle footsy with Rumlow too. He would slide his foot along his commander's calf, intent on listening to whatever Rumlow had to say and continued to pepper questions that finally moved away from work and daily Hell activities and turned to where he was endlessly curious.]

Did you do well in grade school when you were young? You're obviously very intelligent to the point where it seems like you would be bored in school. What did you want to be when you grew up?

hello mr rumlow
would you consider yourself a fashionable man?

[It had been the longest that he and Rumlow had been apart since entering Hell, a locate and detain mission becoming a need to set the cards up for Rumlow to get back into the game. It had been a difficult few days, one where he slept very little as there was too much going on in his head. Jefferson's suffering was like a slow personal bleed, one that he couldn't escape given that he stayed there with the demon and Kenzi when she arrived. He was trusted and was one of the few who could potentially navigate such troubled waters.

He compartmentalized much, and when it came time to move Jefferson to the familiarity of the shop again, Bucky made the excuse that he needed new clothing, to spend some time with Stella and to have a night in his own bed spooned up against Rumlow. He needed that R and R so badly that he could practically taste it. It hadn't been an easy separation and not just because the mission he was on was so painful either.

He missed Rumlow, like a dull ache that seemed more and more intense on each passing day. Texts couldn't bridge the gap though they tried.

Upon entering home, they came together like waves crashing on land, grappling, kissing. He up-ended Rumlow over the arm of the couch in record time before their haphazard desperation landed them on the floor for a fierce nasty bout of sex. Then more kissing, touching hugging, following one another around wherever they went. It wasn't even questioned, just happened. Even a simple trip to the kitchen to feed Stella required them both, fingers entwined.

Under it all, he suffered quietly. He didn't blame Rumlow for any of what was happening to him, but the mission was still weighing on him. It made him a bit more needy than usual, especially when it came time for bed when he would be sleeping for more than an hour. Rumlow was safe though, created a safe space. So he spooned up and settled in.

The nightmares were bad. Worse than ever. He made no sound, didn't move as he was frozen in the images that plagued him, confusing and volatile. When he woke, it was with a sharp inhale and covered in sweat, fingers gripping the sheets as if he might tear them open. Emotions crashed down, so intense that it almost felt as if he were experiencing the opposite of a wipe.

Slowly and carefully, he disentangled himself from Rumlow and went to the bathroom. Bending, he turned on the water and splashed some on his face, breathing hard but like with Jefferson, he forced himself to calm.

Inhale. Hold it. Exhale. Hold it. Rinse and repeat.

He made a low noise like a wounded animal, his breath hitching all over again as he gripped the sink almost hard enough to shatter it on the left side. He tried and failed to calm himself, repeating some of the words that Jefferson said, thinking they were his own. That face - his face - twisted in horror, fear and absolute devastation.

There was order in pain.]

Order in pain. There's order in pain. [He whispered the words to himself, recalling them from Rumlow more often than he can count. He stored a knife behind the toilet and reached for it, feeling as if his mind was desperate for any focus, any relief from the twisting torrent of emotions that swept him, tore at him, made him experience a sensation like mental drowning.

It was a quick nick, barely worth mentioning. It was just above his elbow on the back side of his arm, a place easily explained away and not as easily seen when he was talking to someone. There was a flicker of pain. He tried again, a bit deeper and his eyes fluttered closed as mental anguish was jerked back to let in the low burn of physical pain. His head tipped back so he might view the ceiling if he opened his eyes.]

...order through pain.

Edited 2017-03-28 03:32 (UTC)

[Nightmares]

[Text]