Run Boy Run

“Really? Because you didn’t seem all that keen on me waiting for consent a minute ago.” He knew what Five meant. Of course he did. But what fun was it to just let him slide, when he had all that arrogance and no one to put him in his place?

Besides, what a simple control. Brock didn’t mind being a honeypot, keeping Five pliant and happy with whatever affection and physical touch he desired, as long as he remained functional. More than that, it certainly wouldn’t hurt if Five was more attached to Brock than HYDRA. Just in case.

“You’re an adult. Say what you want, and you can have it. Keep bein’ a little bitch, and I’ll leave you…” he took a long second to glance up and down Five’s body. “Like that.”

He makes a ‘tch’ sounds at the other’s statement and his head jerks away from the taller male as he shoves his hands in his pockets again. He could kick the man’s ass but that would just mean Brock still won in the end and god did he hate to lose. But ultimately he knew he in situation where he couldn’t win, and his ego was not enjoying it.

Giving Five what he wanted wouldn’t gain anyone loyalty, favor maybe, but loyalty had to be earned. Favor was start though, especially when he was given the one thing most denied him; the recognition he wasn’t some child, but a grown man. Albeit a stunted one.

Brock couldn’t help but snort, so clearly amused. But he knew that for once, he had the upper hand and they both knew it. Five wasn’t getting anything until he learned how to use his words… and his manners.

“No, no. You’re right. It was unprofessional and uncalled for. I’ll keep my, uh, hands to myself from now on.” He wiggled his fingertips, hips shifting forwards as he settled back. “Consent in the workplace and all that pussy shit.”

The Commission had tried to train some form of manners into him, but he was honestly a bit feral by the time they got to him, so professionalism was the best they could get out of him (their experimentation on him didn’t quite help either). Five doesn’t like it when some one has the upper hand, he’s always a step or two ahead. He’s always the smartest guy in the room.

Brock smirked, leaning against the wall, eyes locked on Five’s flushed expression. “Fine then.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, seeing just where this would go. “Won’t do it again, Sir.”

There is a loud gasp that escapes him when he’s wrenched in for a kiss. He’s more surprised than anything, rare are the times he’s regarded as the adult he actually is and judged by the body he’s cursed with. Then he gets flustered and stumbles back a little. “I-I know.” he huffs out and tries to straighten himself out a bit. Well fuck, he hadn’t expected that nor the effect it had on his body going through round two of puberty.

Brock grinned, raising his cup of coffee in a mock toast. “Let’s start with you. What can you do, what are you trained in, and what kind of support do you need on missions?” Already he was racking up a list in his head. People that needed to die. Things that needed stolen.

“I was trained in everything.” he states simply. “Most children had nursery rhyme pictures hanging in the halls of the home they both grew and learned in... mine were of combat.” he shrugs. “I was trained from the time I could walk to disarm and subdue a grown man.” Five picks up his cup and takes a drink. “Now, I was raised to work cohesively in a team, but with my ‘siblings’, we were taught how to use our powers in concert with one another.”

Brock has known, mentally, that Five has such power, but it was different seeing it in action. Still, he kept his carefully schooled expression— he was a professional after all. “Nothing for me?”

Five had the potential to change the tides of this war. To secure victory. He could replace entire squadrons of men, take out high level targets with minimal support. He could be the weapon they had been waiting for. He didn’t have to be good, or evil, just like any weapon. He only had to fulfill his purpose.

“Let’s get started. I assume you’re tired of waiting.”

Five just sort of looks at Brock for moment before setting his cup down and disappears again. It doesn’t take long before he’s back and holding out the cup to the other. He wasn’t limited to traveling distances but with more time he could jump through time itself. Five no longer cared about things like good or evil, they were concepts he’d longed since moved passed. He’d killed all kinds of people, he’d been preserving he timeline, this was another instance in time. Another thing that were it not meant to happen, The Temps Aeternalis would have stepped in long ago.

“Then you don’t want purpose, kid. You’re just a gun that wants to be aimed. That’s alright, we got a place for those too. We’re going to fix things, see? Set the world right. You can be the trigger.”

schoolboyshorts‌:

@hydradaddy​ [ x ]

“Bold of you to assume I’m not, I’ve killed more people than years you’ve been alive.” he hisses lowly. “I don’t need training, but I need purpose.”

Brock decided not to take the bait. He, too, had killed more people than years he’d been alive. It was part of the job.

“We can give you that. How would you like to change the world?”

Physical Contact Starters // @lonelyheartedheathens

dirty whispers // @canonmuseboys