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@sovietwintershadow
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CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER // THE ART OF CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER
Brock didn't even flinch when Steve got up in his face, he met the man's stare head on and didn't back down. He could see the way Steve froze upon hearing the Soldier's arm come to life, sensing the threat it posed. Rogers was right to be afraid, Brock could give the word and his precious 'Bucky' would be trying to claw his face off all because Brock told him too. Brock let him get it out of his system, he knew that Steve hated his guts, might as well let him vent it instead of letting it sit like a stick up his ass. Besides, it satisfied something in Brock to know that he could make Rogers lose it so easily. The man was just waiting for a fight and one of these days, Brock might give it to him.
His attention was on the Soldier though, and he listened as the man detailed his current state. Fuck, no wonder his hair was a goddamn mess, he hadn't bathed since Brock had last seen him. Brock's hazel eyes grew stormy at hearing that Steve yelled at him. He was just about to lay into Rogers again but he was cut short by the next statement that came out of Winter's mouth. The tense lines of his body eased slightly at that admission, his gaze softening a little as he addressed the Soldier. "I missed you too, Soldat. We have some work ahead of us, but I'm here for you." He reassured.
Brock turned his attention back to Steve, seeing the way he couldn't even stand to look at Winter. Steve looked like he might be sick if he even acknowledged any of what he was hearing. But Brock wasn't gonna let him off so easy. "If I ever hear that you're fuckin' yelling at him again, we're gonna have problems. I told you, you're gonna hear a lot of shit that you don't like and you're gonna have to deal with it. This is just what it is right now."
He paused a moment before continuing. "Now, if you wanna let me get started, the first thing I'm gonna need is some pain meds cause your buddies didn't do shit to make these burns any easier to deal with. Then, I'm gonna get to taking care of him. I'm gonna clean him up and try to get him to eat something. If you have any nutritional shakes or something plain, that'd work best. His stomach isn't used to anything besides the nutritional sludge that they gave him. the few times I tried to give him anything beyond, he'd throw it back up." As he said all of this, his tone was that of a strategist, he wasn't trying to push at Steve's buttons or get a rise out of him, he was just relaying information like they used to do in the field. "That's what I got at the moment. He hasn't taken orders in a while so we're just gonna start slow. The hard work can come later, he just needs consistency right now."
When the Commander said he missed him too, the soldier relaxed somewhat, but couldn't do that all the way, sensing the tension in the room. Even if Steve was his best friend, in another lifetime (or so it felt to him), the soldier would do anything for his handler, should he only ask.
Steve stood with his arms crossed over his chest and looked outside the window, trying to relax and find a way to work with Rumlow; no matter how much he despised him, he was doing this to get his Bucky back. Steve kept repeating that in his head, and for once, it helped that Rumlow was starting to be factual, instead of making him feel guilty, something that he was already feeling in buckets. He finally turned to look at the agent and still wearing a pissed frown he nodded and moved to sit on the couch. He wanted to leave so bad but he couldn't leave the two of them alone, at least not yet. He was aware that this was torturing him and possibly making the situation even worse, but he could not leave Bucky with this man alone. He was dangerous, no matter how hurt or incapacitated he was. It was his damn presence alone that was a danger in itself. He sighed and nodded. "Jarvis, you heard the man," and a voice came from the ceiling, "Certainly, sir. Right away."
After a few moments, a nurse came into the room with a tray of all the things requested. She first took the syringe and showed Rumlow the vial with the name morphine and the slightly higher dosage than usual, due to the severity of his wounds and the generally known fast metabolism that Rumlow had, which was also mentioned in his file. After the injection was done, she handed him the nutritional shake that had a weird green colour and smelled even worse than it looked.. "You can call me when you need another shot. I am on the 3rd level and can come at any time," she said softly and retreated quietly, all the while Steve was staring daggers at the two of them, not even realizing it, and the soldier, knowing that something had to happen related to him, he dared to move and stood up. His movements were robotic, and his eyes blank, looking at nothing but his handler, and Steve's attention suddenly turned to him and was immediately reminded that in Rumlow's hands, this he was a weapon and tensed, sitting more upright and ready, some alert going off in the back o his head.
— Jean-Paul Sarte, No Exit (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

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why does strictness make me feel safer?
everyone is looking for freedom but all I want is the strictest dynamic I can possibly have. The more rules and structure, the more fulfilled I feel. The quieter my brain is. I just want to shut everything off and serve.🖤
The SHIELD transport agents were just as rough as they had been with him leaving the hospital. He snarled a pained and frustrated grimace at their handling. Christ alive, he would kill for some pain meds or for every last one of these bastards to just catch a bullet. Honestly, both of those things sounded great right now. Once he was escorted out of the helicopter, he saw Stark waiting on the helipad with a wheelchair and felt disgust and loathing at being laid so low. That feeling helped to distract him from the pain for a while, his hatred burning almost as fiercely as his fried nerves. He was sat in the chair, hissing as he was jostled once more.
If there was one thing he could rely on, it was Tony Stark's brand of sarcasm and wit, it never seemed to falter. "Could be better considering the circumstances, but I still look better than you." He quipped back, his distaste for this whole situation barely concealed. The elevator ride down was like the calm before the storm, Brock didn't know exactly what he'd be faced with, but he took the moment to steel himself for whatever was to come. When the doors slid open, he saw Steve first, dressed in that god-awful star-spangled suit of his. Then, his eyes slid down to the Soldier, looking like a shade of his former self. Brock felt his temper flare even higher at seeing his Soldier in such a state. He bit his tongue for now, pain, hatred, and rage boiling beneath the surface.
He listened to Steve prattle on about what he was there for and the threats of kicking him out, but the longer he looked at his Soldier in such a terrible state, the more he couldn't keep his rage from clawing out. "Whatever the fuck you want, man. But, did you not even fucking try? He looks like shit. You're supposed to fuckin' take care of him or did you forget about that?" He knew his words would cut deep and they might even push Steve to beat the shit out of him for it, but Brock didn't care. The burning rage that was fueling him in that moment was enough to get him up to his feet, despite how his whole body protested the very action. "And it's not fuckin' imposing anything on him. He won't take care of himself because that's not what he was programmed to do. Hydra programmed him to obey. You gonna throw me out on the street for making him take a fuckin' shower, for feeding himself? You want him to have a chance at getting better? You're gonna have to deal with a lot of shit you don't like, Cap."
He stopped for a moment, his eyes burning bright with all the venom that had backed his words. He turned his attention back to the Soldier now, seeing those icy eyes watching him from over his knees. "Status report. I want details on your nutrition and hygiene. What has Rogers been doing to keep you maintained?" Speaking to the Soldier directly, his tone was firm but much quieter than the level he had taken with Steve just a few moments ago. He wanted to show the Captain that you didn't have to yell to get him to follow orders. As soon as he could get some pain meds in his system and he was given access to the Soldier, he was going to do all the physical upkeep that had not happened in so long, starting with a bath and tackling his matted hair.
Seeing the lovely mood Rumlow was in, Stark decided to let the three of them be and as he walked to the elevator, called over to Jarvis to update security but the rest of the conversation died down as the elevator doors closed. I side the room, as Steve listened, he started fuming. His fists clenched so tight that the leather of his gloves squeaked with the pressure inside his fist and with two long strides, he was in Rumlow's face, "Don't you dare tell me I didn't try!" he spatf through clenched teeth and from the back of the room, the soldier's metal arm made a whirling sound, which had Steve freeze, not looking back but since nothing else happened, he went on. It was the most he had heard out of Bucky for the past week but that didn't quench the rage he felt towards Rumlow. "You're lucky you're useful. And just so you know, yeah, I god damned tried but he doesn't listen to me. He just looks at me like I'm boring him and then ignores me. You have no place to tell me what I did and if I tried or not!"
When the Soldier saw that the Commander was addressing him, his tensed face and rigid body, ready to jump and defend the handler, suddenly relaxed and the softest voice came between his cracked lips. "The last time I bathed was two weeks ago, before I came to find you and yesterday I was sick again,.." the Soldier shifted his eyes from the Commander to Rogers and back, "He lost his temper again trying to get me to eat pasta. So I did, so he would stop yelling at me." the soldier's voice was gentle and relayed only facts, not showing if he felt in any way about it but his eyes lowered to the ground and when they came back up again, they were red around the wild gray of his eyes and shining with unshed tears, "I missed you, Commander."
Steve couldn't take it and turned away, looking outside the window, feeling anger and shame and humiliation, his face flushed red as he looked at nothing in particular, but tried to keep his reactions in check.
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@sovietwintershadow
Strike team had slowly been making their way through the building, stealth was of the utmost importance in this mission had they had accounted for many things. On occasion, though, humans could be fallible creatures and that's where super soldiers came in. Brock was almost about to round a corner when he felt himself being yanked back by his harness. The hand that had pulled him was strong, steady, and certain, not letting him fall or make a sound on the tile beneath their feet. He turned to look at who had pulled him and saw the Winter Soldier, trying to decipher what the Asset's intention was. He shot the man a quizzical look, one that silently asked him to explain himself.
Rumlow knew these enhanced soldiers sometimes had better senses than himself or his crew, so he wanted to know if the Soldier had caught onto something he hadn't or if it was simply a fluke. Whatever it was, he had the team halt for a brief moment while he waited for a response from the Soldier. "What was that for?" His voice barely above a whisper, relying more on the movement of his lips to convey his words than actual sound.
@sovietwintershadow
As he was taken to the couch and tried to settle there, he felt very uncomfortable and his eyebrows were pulled together, but waited to be undressed and the lines of tension on his face eased up a little when he was being praised, his breathing quickened and the black of his eyes got bigger, watching the handler's every move, taking the blanket and looked at it for a bit, as it felt so nice on his skin, it was soft and warm.
When Commander sat next to him, he got tense again, and panic started to make his heart beat so fast and he slipped down from the couch to the floor and sighed in relief, his flesh hand wrapping around the Commander's leg, letting his chin rest against the other's knee, looking up at him with his angelic gray eyes and the lines of concern were all gone now. Something didn't feel right inside of him, to sit on the same level as his Commander inside his private rooms. Not without it being an order, he was just told that he could.
The soldier didn't even realize that his flesh hand, that rested on the Commander's knee, just in front of his chin, had slipped. His hand was a little cold and sensed heat so in his innocence, it slipped further between the handler's legs, resting softly there, at the furthest point it could go and under the slightly heated tablet the Commander was working on. He didn't say anything, just sighed as he looked up at him, his eyes never leaving his face. He was warm and comfortable, Commander was proud of how he managed throughout the mission and now they were alone, together, and the pain at his side was just a dull ache, pleasant it its reminding him of a job well done. A soft moan escaped his lips as he sighed, contented.
Brock felt like the biggest asshole for having to send him back and the Soldier's tears only made that feeling grow. He wanted nothing more than to have the man stay by his side, to make sure that he'd be taken care of. But, it was a necessary evil for the time being, just until he could function without feeling like he was going to fall apart at every stitch and seam. "It's not goodbye forever, Winter, just goodbye for now. I'll be with you soon, you just gotta stay put with Rogers until I can join you." He watched with a sense of longing as the Soldier went over to the window. It rolled open and he felt the cool evening air sweep in, watching as his Soldier took one look back before jumping into the dark, black night.
Brock didn't sleep much for the rest of the night. His eyes burned with tears both shed and unshed, staring out the open window. He was unusually quiet when the nurses and doctors came to check on him the next morning, when asked if he had any questions, his only one was, "How much longer until I can leave? Not until I'm 100%, just enough to be functional and not worry about my fuckin' face falling off." All this was said with grim resolution. Looks were exchanged amongst the staff before one of the doctors finally spoke up. "We'll have to get back to you on that. We'll need to run some tests and confer with our team. We'll get you an answer soon." What a brilliant non-answer that was. Reading between the lines, Rumlow could tell that what they really meant was they needed to talk with SHIELD and Rogers on what the next step was. A nurse moved to close the window that had been open since last night. "No," He snapped, "Keep it open. Please." His tone softened a little and the nurse obliged, shutting it only half way as a compromise.
Steve never thought he'd ever think these things but he wad so damn glad to hear from Rumlow's medical team. Things have been going progressively worse with Bucky to the point where he's completely catatonic, standing still for hours, not responding or reacting to anything at all. He'd just sit there in the dark, staring into nothing, knees drawn to his chest and he was starting to smell from lack of hugene, the hair hanging in clumps around his face. Steve keeps the door closed to his room because he's ashamed to face his own reactions. He's not proud of himself for snapping at him, but that was all Rumlow's idea so it was not his fault that it didn't work. The most he got out of Bucky was when he wanted to cut off his hair and the metal arm snatched the scissors out of his hand and broke them without Bucky even looking at him. He felt so invisible and useless, whether he was there or not, it didn't even seem to matter. He missed his friend, he wanted his Bucky back and felt a tear run down his cheek as he listened to the doctor at the other end.
"Uhm.." he cleared his throat and tried to make his voice sound less like he was about to cry any minute now, "Yes, yes. I'll let Stark know and we will send a helicopter over to you within the next few hours. And thank you for letting me know." After he ended the call, he waisted no time and called Stark. He didn't like asking Stark for help all that much either as there were certain tensions between them but he was the only one who can help and with sufficient security to hold someone like Rumlow.
Three hours later, 5 men that were the size of a closet each, came to claim the man, snapping restraints on him even before the ones from the bed were taken off. They were silent the whole time and not caring if they caused him pain. As far as they knew, he was a prisoner and only the nurse standing in the doorway, ringing her hands and frowning with concern, explained to Rumlow what was happening and that his stay there was over.
It was later in the evening when the SHIELD transport team had arrived. He'd just managed to finish the nutritional shake they had given him, sipping it through a ridiculously long straw since he couldn't have the cuffs off even to eat. Fuckin' bastards... He had just gotten comfortable once more when the group of men entered his room with no preamble. They made quick work of the wrist and ankle restraints, slapping on unpadded replacements that were tightened just too much and cut into the still sensitive skin.
"What the fuck are you doin'? You're gonna rip my fuckin' skin off, you dumbasses!" He snarled, trying not to resist how they were moving him so that he wouldn't damage his healing skin and grafts. "Mr. Rumlow, I'm sorry but they're here to move you to a different facility. It was coordinated earlier with Captain Rogers. There is a helicopter from Stark Industries that will be transporting you." The nurse quickly relayed, she tried to stay out of the way of the group while also trying to check to make sure they weren't moving Rumlow around too roughly. "You need to be careful! His skin hasn't fully healed. There could be complications- Don't squeeze so hard."
Rumlow didn't deserve her pity, he knew that much, but he appreciated that she tried anyways. He cooperated as much as he was able, trying to make it to the helicopter without the brutes fucking him up too badly. He was finally able to breathe a bit when they got into the aircraft and began their flight over to wherever it was they were taking him. He heard mumblings about 'Rogers' and 'medical' from the piloting crew and figured they were taking him to meet Steve or something of the sort. It was hard to focus now that the pain meds were wearing off and he was becoming increasingly aware of the deep burning and itching feeling all across his body. He didn't want to make a big fuss of it in front of all these agents, but the longer they were in the air, the more unbearable it became. When they finally landed, he was sweating and his jaw was clenched to keep him from crying out from the agony.
Steve only managed to get Bucky out of the house by promising him that he will get to see Rumlow, his 'handler'. God... Steve hated that word, the name too. It made his skin crawl just thinking about him and the man wasn't even there yet. The soldier, on the other hand, as dirty and with his matted hair as he was, seemed more alive than ever and moved for the first time in a long while. Presently, the soldier was crouched down on the floor in the corner of the room next to a ficus plant and Steve paced the main room with his arms crossed, tensing when he heard the helicopter landing.
Stark was already on the roof with a wheelchair because Steve could not stomach coming to greet the man himself. Tony ducked and came close to the helicopter, talking loudly to the men that brought Rumlow. "Yeah, just help him out and I'll take him inside." and put the breaks on the wheelchair for a better stability. Once they were done and the roar of the helicopter quieted down to where they could hear each other, Tony lifted the breaks and wheeled Rumlow towards the elevator. "How are ya, old man? You don't look all that bad..."
As they entered, the soldier's eyes lifted and widened but Steve, with his arms folded above his chest and wearing. of all things, his Captain America suit, stood between them like a wall. "I just want to make some things clear, Rumlow. You're here to bring Bucky back. This is not gonna be one pf your games where you force him to do whatever you want. The moment I see that you impose anything on him, you're out in the street. Am I making myself clear?" Behind him. the soldier sighed and hid his face in the crook of his elbow that rested over his bent knees. Steve could never understand that it was the soldier that wanted and needed to have Rumlow telling him what to do, as even he, with his fractured mind could understand that the Commander would be fine without him.
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@sovietwintershadow
Strike team had slowly been making their way through the building, stealth was of the utmost importance in this mission had they had accounted for many things. On occasion, though, humans could be fallible creatures and that's where super soldiers came in. Brock was almost about to round a corner when he felt himself being yanked back by his harness. The hand that had pulled him was strong, steady, and certain, not letting him fall or make a sound on the tile beneath their feet. He turned to look at who had pulled him and saw the Winter Soldier, trying to decipher what the Asset's intention was. He shot the man a quizzical look, one that silently asked him to explain himself.
Rumlow knew these enhanced soldiers sometimes had better senses than himself or his crew, so he wanted to know if the Soldier had caught onto something he hadn't or if it was simply a fluke. Whatever it was, he had the team halt for a brief moment while he waited for a response from the Soldier. "What was that for?" His voice barely above a whisper, relying more on the movement of his lips to convey his words than actual sound.
@sovietwintershadow
When he heard that he was to be taken to the medical team, he stiffened a little but it was mellowed by his ow awareness that he was really not feeling well and that, after this, he will get to spend time with the handler. This thought alone made his chest feel funny and he could feel the warmth of the handler's hand against his back, and he found strength in that, enough to make it on his own two feet to where they needed to be.
"As soon as they're done, you'll come with me." the Commander had said as the soldier's wide eyes looked up at him and with that in mind, he closed his eyes as he felt hands on him, taking the vest off and guided him to lay down, which he did, feeling the chill air on his chest and the cold medical cot and as soon as he was down, pliers already started digging inside him for the bullets. The sudden invasion into his flesh had his tense and even if he remained silent, his fists were clenched by his sides, eyes wide open and face tensed in pain. He wanted nothing but to pull away and in restraining himself from moving, a soft whimper escaped his lips and an exhale as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. He was a little relieved when he heard one bullet clanking against a metallic surface. By the time he heard the second one, the soldier was too dizzy and out of it to be able to react much at all, silent and still like a corpse, as if he just gave up fighting or thinking there was anything else other than pain left for him.
Somewhere at the periphery of his senses, he could feel a sting in his arm, something cool running through his veins and hands cleaning and patching his abdomen. He was cold and opened his eyes to the blinding lights above him, a few people around him that was dressed in white and talking quietly among themselves. He let his head fall to the side, feeling tired and for no reason, he looked up, his eyes meeting the ones of his handler's and he could feel that strange feeling in his chest, his heart was beating in his throat but he didn't care, there was something in those dark eyes that saw right through him and made him feel completely disarmed, even he, the weapon that was the Winter Soldier.
Brock stood in the corner as the medical team worked, a silent shadow keeping watch over everything that happened. He was pleased with how quickly they managed to fish the bullets out of the Soldier, it meant that his field gear had done a good job of slowing the bullets enough to keep them closer to the surface. It was concerning to see just how pale and out of it the Asset was from the blood he had lost. If he had known about this sooner, they could have put pressure on the wounds to slow the bleeding earlier on.
As Rumlow was pondering all the what if's of how things could have been done differently to prevent this, the medical team started to wrap things up. He focused back in and watched intently as the small group worked to close the wounds and deliver fluids and blood. He noticed the Soldier's head had lolled to the side and that his eyes were staring towards him. The steely eyes were unfocused, but Brock could tell what he was looking at. He gave a slow nod that seemed to say, 'You're safe. You're alright. We're almost there.' He was given the discharge paperwork and told what to look out for in case the Soldier worsened and needed to be brought in again. It typically wasn't the case that things took a turn for the worse, but Brock was prepared in case they did. Thanks to his watchful care, it was rare that Winter ever had to make a return trip. "Alright. Let's get you on your feet." He spoke, getting an arm wrapped around the man and hoisting him up to stand. "You're staying with me, gonna get you settled and taken care of. Just try to stay awake."
Just the fact that the soldier saw his handler there caused him to immediately calm down, his heartrate was lower, and the frantic search with his eyes has ceased as well, looking nowhere else but at the handler as the medical team finished and patched him up. Even the pain was more tolerable now that he was less tense and it almost seemed like the handler's eyes were speaking to him.
He waited quietly as he was left alone, feeling a little tired but apart from that, he knew that he would live through this too and when the handler touched him, the soldier reached out as well, holding his hand over the other's shoulder as he squinted in pain just a little, suppressing it as it was no big deal, he was not mortally wounded and the pain wasn't all that bat if he thought about it. The soldier also knew better than to let his weight on the handler and as they exited the medical area, walking through the now quiet hallways that were previously full of agents rushing about to debrief or to change their clothes and clean up, knowing that he did a good job was starting to make him feel that rush of a mission gone well, slumping a little against the Commander, a soft, gentle moan escaping his lips, his eyes fluttering for a moment as he slowed his pace. It felt good, it was strange to feel like that usually but after a mission, he was expecting it.
He shifted his eyes to the handler and his chest felt funny again, being so close to him, wanting something from him, constantly wanting but not knowing what and he sighed in silence, wondering how long the handler would keep him.

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Brock felt like the biggest asshole for having to send him back and the Soldier's tears only made that feeling grow. He wanted nothing more than to have the man stay by his side, to make sure that he'd be taken care of. But, it was a necessary evil for the time being, just until he could function without feeling like he was going to fall apart at every stitch and seam. "It's not goodbye forever, Winter, just goodbye for now. I'll be with you soon, you just gotta stay put with Rogers until I can join you." He watched with a sense of longing as the Soldier went over to the window. It rolled open and he felt the cool evening air sweep in, watching as his Soldier took one look back before jumping into the dark, black night.
Brock didn't sleep much for the rest of the night. His eyes burned with tears both shed and unshed, staring out the open window. He was unusually quiet when the nurses and doctors came to check on him the next morning, when asked if he had any questions, his only one was, "How much longer until I can leave? Not until I'm 100%, just enough to be functional and not worry about my fuckin' face falling off." All this was said with grim resolution. Looks were exchanged amongst the staff before one of the doctors finally spoke up. "We'll have to get back to you on that. We'll need to run some tests and confer with our team. We'll get you an answer soon." What a brilliant non-answer that was. Reading between the lines, Rumlow could tell that what they really meant was they needed to talk with SHIELD and Rogers on what the next step was. A nurse moved to close the window that had been open since last night. "No," He snapped, "Keep it open. Please." His tone softened a little and the nurse obliged, shutting it only half way as a compromise.
Steve never thought he'd ever think these things but he wad so damn glad to hear from Rumlow's medical team. Things have been going progressively worse with Bucky to the point where he's completely catatonic, standing still for hours, not responding or reacting to anything at all. He'd just sit there in the dark, staring into nothing, knees drawn to his chest and he was starting to smell from lack of hugene, the hair hanging in clumps around his face. Steve keeps the door closed to his room because he's ashamed to face his own reactions. He's not proud of himself for snapping at him, but that was all Rumlow's idea so it was not his fault that it didn't work. The most he got out of Bucky was when he wanted to cut off his hair and the metal arm snatched the scissors out of his hand and broke them without Bucky even looking at him. He felt so invisible and useless, whether he was there or not, it didn't even seem to matter. He missed his friend, he wanted his Bucky back and felt a tear run down his cheek as he listened to the doctor at the other end.
"Uhm.." he cleared his throat and tried to make his voice sound less like he was about to cry any minute now, "Yes, yes. I'll let Stark know and we will send a helicopter over to you within the next few hours. And thank you for letting me know." After he ended the call, he waisted no time and called Stark. He didn't like asking Stark for help all that much either as there were certain tensions between them but he was the only one who can help and with sufficient security to hold someone like Rumlow.
Three hours later, 5 men that were the size of a closet each, came to claim the man, snapping restraints on him even before the ones from the bed were taken off. They were silent the whole time and not caring if they caused him pain. As far as they knew, he was a prisoner and only the nurse standing in the doorway, ringing her hands and frowning with concern, explained to Rumlow what was happening and that his stay there was over.
[yank] my muse in, by their clothes
@sovietwintershadow
Strike team had slowly been making their way through the building, stealth was of the utmost importance in this mission had they had accounted for many things. On occasion, though, humans could be fallible creatures and that's where super soldiers came in. Brock was almost about to round a corner when he felt himself being yanked back by his harness. The hand that had pulled him was strong, steady, and certain, not letting him fall or make a sound on the tile beneath their feet. He turned to look at who had pulled him and saw the Winter Soldier, trying to decipher what the Asset's intention was. He shot the man a quizzical look, one that silently asked him to explain himself.
Rumlow knew these enhanced soldiers sometimes had better senses than himself or his crew, so he wanted to know if the Soldier had caught onto something he hadn't or if it was simply a fluke. Whatever it was, he had the team halt for a brief moment while he waited for a response from the Soldier. "What was that for?" His voice barely above a whisper, relying more on the movement of his lips to convey his words than actual sound.
@sovietwintershadow
When he heard that he was to be taken to the medical team, he stiffened a little but it was mellowed by his ow awareness that he was really not feeling well and that, after this, he will get to spend time with the handler. This thought alone made his chest feel funny and he could feel the warmth of the handler's hand against his back, and he found strength in that, enough to make it on his own two feet to where they needed to be.
"As soon as they're done, you'll come with me." the Commander had said as the soldier's wide eyes looked up at him and with that in mind, he closed his eyes as he felt hands on him, taking the vest off and guided him to lay down, which he did, feeling the chill air on his chest and the cold medical cot and as soon as he was down, pliers already started digging inside him for the bullets. The sudden invasion into his flesh had his tense and even if he remained silent, his fists were clenched by his sides, eyes wide open and face tensed in pain. He wanted nothing but to pull away and in restraining himself from moving, a soft whimper escaped his lips and an exhale as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. He was a little relieved when he heard one bullet clanking against a metallic surface. By the time he heard the second one, the soldier was too dizzy and out of it to be able to react much at all, silent and still like a corpse, as if he just gave up fighting or thinking there was anything else other than pain left for him.
Somewhere at the periphery of his senses, he could feel a sting in his arm, something cool running through his veins and hands cleaning and patching his abdomen. He was cold and opened his eyes to the blinding lights above him, a few people around him that was dressed in white and talking quietly among themselves. He let his head fall to the side, feeling tired and for no reason, he looked up, his eyes meeting the ones of his handler's and he could feel that strange feeling in his chest, his heart was beating in his throat but he didn't care, there was something in those dark eyes that saw right through him and made him feel completely disarmed, even he, the weapon that was the Winter Soldier.
by @gaga00648863653
Brock felt like the biggest asshole for having to send him back and the Soldier's tears only made that feeling grow. He wanted nothing more than to have the man stay by his side, to make sure that he'd be taken care of. But, it was a necessary evil for the time being, just until he could function without feeling like he was going to fall apart at every stitch and seam. "It's not goodbye forever, Winter, just goodbye for now. I'll be with you soon, you just gotta stay put with Rogers until I can join you." He watched with a sense of longing as the Soldier went over to the window. It rolled open and he felt the cool evening air sweep in, watching as his Soldier took one look back before jumping into the dark, black night.
Brock didn't sleep much for the rest of the night. His eyes burned with tears both shed and unshed, staring out the open window. He was unusually quiet when the nurses and doctors came to check on him the next morning, when asked if he had any questions, his only one was, "How much longer until I can leave? Not until I'm 100%, just enough to be functional and not worry about my fuckin' face falling off." All this was said with grim resolution. Looks were exchanged amongst the staff before one of the doctors finally spoke up. "We'll have to get back to you on that. We'll need to run some tests and confer with our team. We'll get you an answer soon." What a brilliant non-answer that was. Reading between the lines, Rumlow could tell that what they really meant was they needed to talk with SHIELD and Rogers on what the next step was. A nurse moved to close the window that had been open since last night. "No," He snapped, "Keep it open. Please." His tone softened a little and the nurse obliged, shutting it only half way as a compromise.
That open window and the eyes that watched him leave haunted the soldier as he made his way back, ending up on the top of Steve's building and lowered himself quietly with the wire he still had hidden into one of the compartments of his vest. When his quiet feet landed inside his room, something wasn't right. There was too much noize, Steve was talking loud, the lights were on and the door to his room was open. The soldier knew there were no cameras in this room not any other spy equipment as he went through everything the first night he stayed her and destroyed everything. That meant only one thing. That Steve came looking for him during the night. He stood there, half frozen in place, with no order or guidance as to what he was supposed to do in this situation that he did not plan for. If it was up to him, he would have never returned.
He didn't have a lot of time to think about it because Steve stormed in, his hair disheveled and wide eyed with panic and a hint of rage at seeing the soldier. Steve knew. He knew where the soldier went and he couldn't hide the disgust he felt from showing on his face. He quickly came closer to the soldier, his nostrils flared and lips pursed in an obvious attempt to control his reaction. "I'm not even gonna ask where you've been. I can smell him off of you." Steve said through gritted teeth and immediately felt guilty for not controlling himself better even if he kept telling himself that. He sighed, blowing out through his nose "Get that thing off of you and come to bed. You're sleeping with me." Steve said with finality and left the room before he would lose his temper. The frustration made his cheeks and tips of his ears flush red. He felt embarrassed, shame, guilt and jealousy all rolled up in one and couldn't wait for Rumlow to get out and bring back his Bucky.
The soldier watched Steve leave the room and started to take his clothes off, he felt defeated. He folded the clothes and hid them as much as he could in the farthest corner of the closet and changed into his usual sleep wear and with his head bowed, quietly laid down next to Steve, his back turned. "Look, Buck, I'm sorry... I shouldn't get angry with you like that..." and felt his hand gently at his side.
"It's not goodbye forever, Winter, just goodbye for now."
The soldier sighed, a tear falling down his cheek as he closed his eyes.
[yank] my muse in, by their clothes
@sovietwintershadow
Strike team had slowly been making their way through the building, stealth was of the utmost importance in this mission had they had accounted for many things. On occasion, though, humans could be fallible creatures and that's where super soldiers came in. Brock was almost about to round a corner when he felt himself being yanked back by his harness. The hand that had pulled him was strong, steady, and certain, not letting him fall or make a sound on the tile beneath their feet. He turned to look at who had pulled him and saw the Winter Soldier, trying to decipher what the Asset's intention was. He shot the man a quizzical look, one that silently asked him to explain himself.
Rumlow knew these enhanced soldiers sometimes had better senses than himself or his crew, so he wanted to know if the Soldier had caught onto something he hadn't or if it was simply a fluke. Whatever it was, he had the team halt for a brief moment while he waited for a response from the Soldier. "What was that for?" His voice barely above a whisper, relying more on the movement of his lips to convey his words than actual sound.
@sovietwintershadow
When the handler took his arm to clean it, the soldier was relieved because now he had something to focus on. He could feel the cloth cleaning the plates, in some parts of the arm the sensation was still present but distant, especially compared to his palm and fingers where the sensation was not any more different than the one on his flesh arm. The sensation was pleasant when the Commander started cleaning his digits and closed his eyes until he heard the man speak and his eyes shot open.
He sighed and moved his head next to the Commander’s, speaking in a low voice “Two bullet wounds, the bullets still inside, blocking a massive bleed out,” the soldier said in a mechalic cadance. He took the piece of rag that was offered and pressed in against the wound.
The wound itself would have been more deadly if it were to happen to anyone else but the serum in his blood helped in slowing down the damage and he shook his head in answering if it needed immediate attention. “I-It hurts…“ he said in barely a whisper, the voice was not as robotic and his eyes betrayed the pain, a soft pained sigh escaping his mouth as he looked out the window and his shoulders tensed when he recognized the building and realized they were back. The soldier took his gun and when the door opened and he stood up straight outside the car, he felt dizzy and the colour drained from his face. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, looked to the Commander for further instructions as the rest of the team scurried about to empty the card and go back inside.

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