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Jack Rollins watched with vague interest as Brock Rumlow - silhouetted by fading light - came through the cabin door, where he dropped a smashed radio on the floor, stomped some packed snow from his boots, and proclaimed, “Fuck.”
Given that the radio had most definitely not been smashed when Rumlow had gone out into the snow to try and get a signal from the hill just above the cabin, Jack presumed it hadn’t gone well. They were officially stranded. The three of them - the two of them and the Winter Soldier, who was currently standing at the cracked open window with his sniper rifle, either deliberately ignoring them or genuinely concentrating on the role of keeping them safe - had been on the trail of some anti-Hydra military movement high in the mountains of Austria when the sudden storm had moved in. With night about to fall, the Soldier had led them surprisingly quickly to this cabin, but none of their communications were working and the snow was getting thicker and thicker. It wasn’t the greatest situation Jack had ever been in, and yet, he was pretty sure the biggest threat to him actually getting out of this was Rumlow’s mood.
True to that concern, Rumlow stalked through to the kitchen. There was nothing in there. Jack had already checked. He had no idea how the Soldier had known that this place existed, but it obviously wasn’t because it was his secret Austrian base, stocked with the best vodka Hydra could find. Jack just watched him, wary. He had a good relationship with Rumlow; they’d worked together for a long time. But whenever it was just the three of them, things were a little tense. Jack had been made the Soldier’s handler a few years back - which he was pretty sure wasn’t the grave insult Rumlow had taken it as, more a shitty job that they couldn’t palm off on anyone else - and Rumlow had never got over the injustice. From the perspective that Rumlow actually gave a shit about his job and Jack most definitely didn’t, he got why he was annoyed. Truth be told, looking after the Soldier was a pain in Jack’s ass, and he would have gladly handed it over to Rumlow if only to get away from the extra duties. Smoothing things over would have been a bonus. Then again, he would have missed the extra pay he got whenever the thing was out of cryo. It had paid for a jetski the year before. A jetski that he was yet to actually use because he never got any goddamn time off, but a jetski nonetheless.
Rumlow walked back through to the living room and glared over at the Soldier. “Shut the fucking window or we’re going to freeze to death.”
Apparently and unsurprisingly totally ignorant of Rumlow’s dangerous tone, the Soldier ignored him. Jack tried not to roll his eyes. As far as he knew, the Soldier was perfectly capable of taking orders from people who weren’t him; he just chose not to. And right now, choosing not to was going to make things a hell of a lot harder for Jack than they really needed to be, so that probably worked out just perfectly in the idiot’s head. Jack was under no illusions that the Soldier had any real respect or care for him outside of what was specifically programmed in his head. Finally, he offered, “Yeah, he’s right. Nobody’s coming for us here anyway.” It was vague enough that Rumlow would just think he was agreeing with him - but that there was a chance the Soldier would actually take it as an order and do what Rumlow wanted in the first place.
Jack tried to not hold his breath, but after a moment, the Soldier lowered his gun and shut the window, glancing over at Jack. He gave him a small nod. The last thing he needed to try and deal with was both of these idiots in shitty moods.
One thing that Jack knew about Rumlow was that he hated any situation where the answer was just to sit around and do nothing. He was a man of action. It was why he was so good at his job. To Jack’s mind, the solution here was obvious: they needed to wait out the storm. He didn’t even know why Rumlow had been so set on getting the comms working. Even if they had been able to get in touch with someone, it wasn’t as if anyone could come to rescue them in this weather. Literally all they could do was sit tight and hope that the storm subsided before they had to resort to cannibalism.
Speaking of which, Jack realised it had been a while since the Soldier had eaten. He was likely to be the problem first: though he was trained to go long periods without eating or drinking, he also had a metabolism that ran at four or five times that of a human’s, and he had a tendency to get even more annoying when he was underfed. Jack reached for his own pack and rummaged around with it, coming out with a protein bar and tossing it over to him.
Immediately, Rumlow had a problem, as Jack could have guessed he would. “We need to ration the food.”
He had a point, though it was too late as the Soldier tore the wrapper off and ate the bar, eyeing Rumlow the whole time. Jack sighed and wondered if the thing actually had a death wish. He knew that most of STRIKE thought he was absolutely braindead. Jack had worked with him for long enough now to know that it wasn’t the case at all. It was idiotic that anyone even thought it was; the guy had to function at a pretty high level in the field to do what he did. But beyond that, Jack knew he was perfectly aware. It wasn’t as if he had any kind of personality to speak of. That had been fried out of him long ago. But he knew what he was doing and when he had an attitude, you’d know about it. One thing he never had any kind of respect for was the chain of command when he was working with STRIKE. It was hidden most of the time by the fact he would defer to Jack, and Jack in turn deferred to Rumlow, but he knew full well that the Soldier had no time for Rumlow directly. Or anyone, really, who tried to tell him what to do in the field. It made sense: he was sixty, seventy years older than any of them, and had a hell of a lot more experience. But he did sometimes wonder if the guy had been this much of a pain in the ass with the Soviets. He’d asked, once, if he could get in contact with one of his old handlers, in an uncharacteristic moment of wanting to actually be good at his job. He was told they didn’t give a shit about American Hydra and wouldn’t take his call. It figured. It was the exact same attitude the Soldier had most of the time.
“I am rationing it,” Jack replied, finally. Technically, it was true. He’d rather go without his own rations and have the Soldier functioning, anyway.
Rumlow was eyeing the Soldier right back, which struck Jack as something that was going to escalate into a big fucking problem for him. Finally, Rumlow said, “We should send him out to hunt us some food.”
There was no way that Jack was going to kick the Soldier out in this. It was less out of concern for his wellbeing and more out of what he thought was a fairly rational worry that the Soldier would just fuck off and abandon the two of them here, and he’d end up having to fight Rumlow to the death. But he wasn’t going to explain any of that, and so instead he just gave Rumlow a look. “Animals aren’t exactly running around out in that shit. What do you think he’s going to find?”
There was no reply from Rumlow, which Jack decided he was going to chalk up as a win. Instead, Rumlow stalked around the windows - which seemed fairly pointless to Jack as there was absolutely nothing you could see out of any of them, before finally coming to a stop and sitting down on the other end of the couch from Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack watched him. Rumlow was the sort of guy who never looked completely comfortable at rest. Even now, he was leaning forward, his legs spread wide, tension in all of his muscles beneath his tac gear. It was part of what made him so good - he was always ready for anything - but it must have also been fucking exhausting.
Something must have been turning over in Rumlow’s mind, and Jack had a strong feeling that he wasn’t going to like what it was. He was looking down at his hands and alternating staring at them with looking over at the Soldier. The way he was staring at him was definitely something Jack felt like he should be concerned about; there was a predatory glint to his gaze. A little wildly, Jack mentally grasped for how the hell he could distract the guy, but he came up empty. Making conversation had never been his strong suit. As it turned out, he didn’t have to; Rumlow finally sat back and crossed his legs, one ankle over the other knee. He stretched his arm along the back of the couch. Jack had the slightly alarming feeling that he was watching a very deliberate show, and busied himself with his pack for a moment, counting the bars he had left. It felt like he was stepping around landmines, and the last thing he wanted to do was set Rumlow off.
“You ever fuck him?”
Jack blinked, because he was absolutely sure that he had to have heard him wrong. Slowly, he put his bag down and looked over at Rumlow. For his part, Rumlow had a strangely curious and open expression on his face. Jack wondered just how long he’d been wondering about that, and shook his head, once, mute.
Rumlow grinned. “Come on. Everyone talks about it. He can’t say no to you.”
It wasn’t as if Jack hadn’t heard the jokes about the Soldier. He glanced over at him now. The Soldier’s eyes were trained on Jack, as they often were, looking to take his lead. This wouldn’t exactly have been Jack’s first choice in conversation topics at the best of times, but it somehow felt even worse with the guy staring at him. Finally, he glanced back at his pack and resumed his counting, trying to feign a casual attitude. He had a bad feeling about where this was going. “Funnily enough I like my partners actually able to give consent.”
That was apparently enough to make Rumlow laugh, and the noise cut through some of the tension. It gave Jack a little hope that he was going to move on, but naturally, he should have known better than that. When he glanced over, Rumlow was rubbing his own chin as if deep in thought, staring over at the Soldier who was still stubbornly refusing to look at him. “You think the Soviets fucked him? Or do you think he’s a virgin?”
“I’m not a virgin,” the Soldier said. Jack closed his eyes for a moment. The guy could talk perfectly well, obviously, in spite of what some people around Hydra thought. He just also tended to have a knack for picking the absolute dumbest times to show that ability off.
Luckily, Rumlow seemed more amused by the comment than annoyed. “Oh yeah? How do you figure you know that?”
The Soldier cast Jack a sidelong look, as if expecting Jack to get him out of the situation he’d just squarely landed himself in. Jack gave him a small shake of the head and the Soldier went back to sullenly looking out the window, not dignifying Rumlow with a reply.
Jack had no idea how the Soldier did know that, or even if he had any idea what he was actually saying. It wasn’t as if the two of them sat around talking about the guy’s life before Hydra. Jack didn’t have any idea about it - in spite of the fact he was the Soldier’s handler, he wasn’t allowed to know jack shit of the classified information. In typical Hydra fashion, you were only ever told the bare minimum of what you actually needed to know, and for the rest you just had to go fuck yourself. The Soldier had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, that much he was sure about, but right now the only thing he really cared about was Rumlow dropping it.
He glanced over at Rumlow, who now had a grin on his face that very much did not make him look like someone who was about to drop anything. For the longest time, he watched the Soldier, and Jack felt the tension ratchet up notch by agonising notch. He wondered if it would be better for him to take his chances out in the snow. Make a run for it. Hopefully die of frostbite. Hail Hydra. Rumlow looked over at him, though Jack could tell he didn’t have his focus. Rumlow grinned again. “Guess we’re gonna be stuck here a while, may as well have some fun.”
Somehow, Jack had a feeling that he and Rumlow had different definitions of fun. He gave a noncommittal noise and sat back, trying to come across more relaxed than he was. He could see exactly where this was going, and it was not somewhere he wanted to go. Actually, he would really rather anything happened next than what he was pretty sure was about to go down. He felt torn: much as he took his job only the most vague level of seriously most of the time, he did have a responsibility to the Soldier. And at the same time, he had an ever-present healthy level of both fear and respect when it came to Rumlow. He’d managed to go this far in his life with Hydra without those two ever being in major conflict; he was going to be pissed off if being stuck in some abandoned snowbound cabin in the middle of nowhere was what finally put an end to that streak.
“If you’re not a virgin, come show me,” Rumlow said, beckoning with one finger.
Immediately, as he knew he would, the Soldier shot Jack an indignant, expectant look. This, too, was something that the other idiots of STRIKE always missed about the Soldier; he knew exactly what they were saying when they talked about him in front of his face like he was deaf, dumb or both. Jack met his gaze, trying to stay calm, before he looked at Rumlow. “Knock it off.”
Naturally, Rumlow ignored him. “Guy says he’s not a virgin. Seems a shame to not let him prove it.”
Whatever tension had been low-boiling under Jack’s skin, it was coming to the fore now. He felt like he was on a train hurtling down a steep slope and he had no fucking clue how to stop it before they crashed and died. “He’s not your sex toy.”
This time, when Rumlow turned to grin at Jack, Jack had his full attention and immediately regretted it. “Who said anything about him being mine?”
Well, if there was anything that could have made the situation worse, it would have been that. Jack felt his insides freeze, and he forced himself to keep his eyes on Rumlow. It was like staring down a goddamn grizzly bear, though he would have preferred the bear: you didn’t want to show any signs of weakness. “Pass,” he said, glancing away again, over at the Soldier, who shot him an injured look. Great. The last thing he needed was to also somehow be aware of hurting the fucking thing’s feelings because Jack didn’t want Rumlow to force him into raping him, or whatever the hell was on his mind. He was pretty sure no extra pay in the world would make up for this kind of bullshit situation.
“If there’s anyone in this world who needs to get laid, it’s you,” Rumlow said, reaching out to squeeze Jack’s shoulder as if he was doing him some kind of magnanimous favour.
Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I do just fine.” In fact, he hadn’t been laid since before he’d joined Hydra, but that was beside the point. It was so far beside the point that he absolutely did not want to think about that situation changing. The one thing that could make this disaster of a situation even fucking worse would be if his body decided to pop a boner.
Still holding Jack’s shoulder - and Jesus, if he’d ever thought about actually getting laid again one thing he never would have wanted to imagine in a million years was Brock Fucking Rumlow being involved - Rumlow tried beckoning to the Soldier again. “C’mon. Gotta please this guy, right? Gotta do what he says? Isn’t that your whole thing?”
In spite of it all, Jack was a little insulted at the way he was distilling the whole weird relationship he had with the Soldier down to something like that. It was complicated, complex, and Jack had no idea what he actually felt about it all, other than that it seemed like something he was gonna bring up to a therapist one day. But it was a hell of a lot more than the Soldier just having to do whatever Jack said. Actually, the Soldier often very much did not do whatever Jack said, if he happened to be in that kind of mood. Everyone seemed to think he was some kind of murder (and apparently sex) robot who functioned like a machine. Jack’s life would be a lot easier if he was, but he probably wouldn’t have been paid as much. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Rumlow laughed, gesturing to the Soldier again. For his part, the Soldier was just staring straight at Jack. Glaring at him, in fact, like it was Jack’s fault this situation was so out of hand. He gave him a sharp scowl in return, which instantly seemed to destroy the Soldier’s resolve if his wide-eyed, hurt reaction was anything to go by.
“You know I’m his commanding officer, right?” Rumlow said, jerking his head at Jack. Jack stifled a sigh. He was pretty sure that Rumlow had tried this line on the Soldier before, and he was just as sure that the Soldier gave absolutely zero shits about who Jack’s commanding officer was. “Means you’ve gotta do what I say, too.”
Of the three of them in the room, Jack was pretty sure two or more of them knew that was complete and utter bullshit, but he was too preoccupied in trying to think of a good way out of this mess to actually argue. He could sense Rumlow’s mood already beginning to darken, and it wasn’t as if being stranded in the middle of nowhere had left the guy particularly sunny to kick it all off in the first place. Rumlow squeezed Jack’s shoulder a little more tightly in a way that indicated his patience was beginning to wear out.
Feeling as if he was on the losing side of this, Jack gave the Soldier a nod and, with a resentful glare shot in Rumlow’s direction, the Soldier stalked forward and stopped in front of them.
Rumlow had apparently missed how that had actually happened, because when Jack glanced at him, he looked extremely fucking pleased with himself.
Which seemed like his opportunity. “There,” Jack said, firm. “You proved your point. He did what you told him. Now leave him the fuck alone.”
Jack’s careful calibration of his tone hadn’t been careful enough, because even he heard it: he was defending the Soldier, protecting him from Rumlow, and Rumlow wasn’t the kind of guy whose ego tolerated that sort of thing. The guy was a great leader in his way, but he was obsessive about having respect from the rest of them, and somehow Jack doubted he was going to be thrilled about not being Jack’s priority in this room. He ground his teeth, a little helpless, feeling like he’d made a misstep he was going to have to try and walk back. Eventually, awkward, he added, “You know what he’s like. You want to be stuck in here with him if we fuck up his programming doing weird shit to him?”
Again, the Soldier looked hurt by that comment, and Jack wanted to throttle him for being such an idiot. This was one of the many things that pissed him off about working with the thing: he was moody and sensitive under all the strict programming, and Jack was never convinced that the techs completely knew what they were doing with him. He definitely didn’t always seem entirely like the honed weapon the Soviets had supposedly had. He’d been pretty sure the Soviets had half-assed their training and handover when it came to the maintenance, anyway. It wasn’t exactly something he could do anything about, but times like this he wished for the ruthless, obedient death machine he’d been first told about.
Rumlow seemed to be actually considering what he’d said, looking up at the Soldier with slightly narrowed eyes and drawing his hand back from Jack’s shoulder. Jack just watched him, cautious. You never could tell what Rumlow was thinking. Finally, he spoke. “Giving your handler a little treat going to fuck you up, Sol-dat?”
It was, of course, exactly the one thing that Jack wouldn’t have wanted him to say, because it was exactly the thing that would set this whole disaster on a course of no return. Finally, the Soldier actually looked at Rumlow. “No.”
“So get on your knees.”
Jack closed his eyes for a moment, wishing that he was literally anywhere else in the world. Actually, he wished he was back seven years ago when that Hydra recruiter had contacted him, so he could have told her to go fuck herself. It wasn’t as if he was particularly adverse to getting a blow job, but getting a blow job from history’s greatest assassin while history’s greatest pervert watched from two feet away was a hell of a different ask. He hoped that by the time he opened his eyes, he suddenly somehow gained a new sense of creativity and could come up with however the fuck he was going to get himself out of this. And the Soldier, too. Rumlow could go hang for all he cared.
Of course, when he opened his eyes again, all that had changed was that the Soldier was on his knees between Jack’s legs, staring somewhere through the middle of Jack’s chest, which he’d long since concluded meant he was picturing what it would be like to stab a knife through it. His hair was hanging limply over his face, and there was absolutely nothing behind his eyes. For a moment, he wondered if the guy did this deliberately, if whatever was left of his personality or identity in there could actually just switch off, take a back seat, retreat. It felt dangerously like a train of thought that would see him feeling a lot more sorry for the thing than was healthy.
Beside them, Rumlow cleared his throat, and Jack shot him an irritated look.
There was no way out of this. Feeling resigned to the whole fucked up situation, he gave the Soldier a nod. With zero enthusiasm, the Soldier shifted forward to pull at Jack’s belt. Jack gave him a glare. He had seen those hands choke the life out of countless people at this point, but he had absolutely no faith that he could be delicate enough to have them anywhere near Jack’s dick. He shifted his hands instead, undoing his belt and fly, and raising his hips to shift his pants and boxers down. The fact he was doing all of this sitting beside Rumlow was disgusting, and he had no idea how the guy expected him to actually get hard in these circumstances.
But then the Soldier shifted forward and took Jack in his mouth. Oh. That was how Rumlow expected him to get hard in these circumstances, because the Soldier’s mouth was hot and sweet, and it had been so goddamn long that Jack worried he was actually going to black out. He grunted a little and shifted his weight. The Soldier grabbed his thighs to keep him still, and Jack briefly considered kicking him to get him to let go. But then again, this was probably going to go a hell of a lot faster the less he actually resisted. He grit his teeth, and tried to relax.
Of course, that wasn’t exactly easy with Rumlow grinning right next to them, and Jack managed to shoot him a glare. “You really have to watch?”
“It’s not gay, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Rumlow replied, with the practised air of someone who had used that line about a hell of a lot of things in the past.
Jack wasn’t exactly sure what about one guy blowing another guy while a third guy watched them wasn’t gay, but he also wasn’t about to ask Rumlow to explain whatever the fuck his twisted mind had managed to come up with to justify this. It was also becoming increasingly difficult to think of anything at all. He was already hard, and the Soldier was working him with what seemed like a total lack of enthusiasm - but a surprising amount of skill.
It wasn’t as if it had never crossed Jack’s mind. He was sure that there were people out there - Rumlow obviously included - whose first instinct on seeing something that couldn’t say no would be to stick their dick in it. Maybe the Soviets had done it, maybe they hadn’t, but with the way the Soldier’s tongue was flicking around Jack’s cock, the way he knew just where to press and how firmly, someone had obviously had the Soldier do this in the past. There was no way this was his first blow job. His hair was brushing the inside of Jack’s thighs, and the sensation was making it all more amplified somehow. For a moment, it didn’t even matter that Rumlow was watching.
Of course, Rumlow couldn’t seem to keep his goddamn hands to himself, and he reached out to pet at the Soldier’s hair. The Soldier - somehow, with his mouth around Jack’s cock - gave Rumlow a warning glare. Unfortunately, all that seemed to do was encourage Rumlow, who got to his feet, staring at the two of them, rubbing his very obvious bulge through his thick tac pants.
Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Jack reluctantly looked up at him.
Rumlow grinned down at him. “You’ve got a nice dick.”
“Jesus. Don’t talk to me,” Jack said, closing his eyes and actually leaning back, trying again to pretend he was somewhere else. That it was somebody else’s mouth wrapped around him, someone else he was struggling to not thrust into. That Rumlow was a million miles away, preferably literally. And then he was abruptly yanked back into the present as the Soldier’s mouth suddenly disappeared. Jack’s eyes flew open, and he realised he had a bigger disaster on his hands: the Soldier, lips swollen, was grabbing Rumlow by the wrist and glaring up at him.
“Easy,” Rumlow said in that low, soothing voice they all used when the Soldier got a little out of line.
“What did you do?” Jack said, because of course Rumlow had done something.
Rumlow smiled, though this time it didn’t reach his eyes, and he was still gazing down at the Soldier. Jesus, if Jack had known that Rumlow had such a fucking hard on for the thing he would have come up with some excuse to not be on this mission. Or at the very least he would have brought someone like Sitwell along. The guy just had the air of someone who could suck all the sexuality out of a room without even trying. After a moment, Rumlow glanced at Jack. “Didn’t want you to have all the fun.”
It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and Jack glared at him. “You are not fucking him while he sucks my cock.”
“Close your eyes if it bothers you so much,” Rumlow retorted, as if Jack’s biggest problem was the fact he was going to make eye contact with the guy over a spit-roasted Russian assassin. He looked back down at the Soldier. “Come on. You’ve been so good. You need a treat, too.”
Automatically, the Soldier looked at Jack, who was starting to feel like there was a good chance he was completely out of control of the situation. He looked up at Rumlow, gauging his seriousness. Rumlow, for his part, wasn’t even looking back at Jack, which was a pretty good indication that yes, he was completely fucking serious. Jesus. This was a goddamn nightmare. Eventually, he reluctantly gave the Soldier a nod. Short of getting him to kill Rumlow, he didn’t see any other way out of this, and he felt like he was going to get chewed out enough for this clusterfuck of a mission without adding having to explain that.
Looking pissed off more than anything, the Soldier impatiently ripped at his own pants, angrily shoving them down to his knees. It felt like this whole thing was really hanging by a thread, and Jack swallowed hard as the Soldier took him back in his mouth - though not without directing a pointed glare in his direction.
Just having the thing’s pants off was obviously all the encouragement that Rumlow needed as he loosened his own pants and pushed them down. Jack was a little too slow to avert his gaze and got an eyeful of Rumlow’s cock, which he was pretty sure was exactly what Rumlow would have wanted: girthy. Long. He could have gone his life quite happily ignorant of what Rumlow looked like when he was erect. Actually, he could have lived a long and happy life without any of what had happened in the past half hour. Without any sort of preparation, Rumlow pushed into the Soldier, who nearly choked around Jack’s cock. Jack - if only to avoid looking at Rumlow - glanced down at the Soldier, who looked genuinely pained. He had stupidly expressive eyes at the best of times - it always made Jack wonder how the hell anyone could think he was braindead - and right now he looked miserable.
Jack was fairly sure he was probably wearing the same expression. He was also fairly sure that this current situation wasn’t his finest hour as the Winter Soldier’s handler.
On the other end of the Soldier, however, Rumlow seemed to be having a great time, either completely ignorant of how the other two were getting on or just truly not giving a shit. Possibly, Jack thought, both. He couldn’t help looking at him. The guy was gripping the Soldier hard by the hips as he fucked him, groaning at the apex of each thrust, some kind of wild expression on his face that said he’d been holding this fantasy back for a really, really long time. Jack looked at him for a few beats too long, because Rumlow seemed to sense him watching and opened his eyes, directing his grin at Jack. He was fairly sure that expression was going to fuel his nightmares for some time to come.
The Soldier’s blow job had understandably got somewhat messier - he was trying to brace himself on the floor against Rumlow’s thrusts but it obviously wasn’t easy while still trying to keep his mouth around Jack, his head occasionally butting into him and Jack’s dick hitting the back of his throat often. He was fairly sure the look of absolute distress on the Soldier’s face was not only because of what the hell Rumlow was doing to him, but also probably because he felt like he was fucking up with what he was doing to Jack. It didn’t help that Jack could feel himself getting soft, because frankly, getting sucked off by a guy who looked understandably terrified while someone was raping him wasn’t his ideal picture of a good time.
Yeah, this situation was most definitely out of Jack’s control.
Inwardly, he groaned. In spite of everything going on right now, and it was a hell of a lot, the one thing he could actually control was doing his stupid job with the Soldier. Half his job as his handler was to keep the thing calm - whether that meant picking up the weapons he discarded before he got annoyed about some pistol he’d thrown over his shoulder being left on the ground, or making sure he was kept fed, or, one horrifically memorable time, shaving the guy before he went back into the freezer. It was actually more or less the only part of his job he took vaguely seriously. He shifted his weight, trying to thrust his hips up in an attempt to time it with Rumlow’s movements, making it a little easier on the Soldier.
It worked, at least a little. The guy was being moved between them like some kind of rag doll, but at least he seemed to get what Jack was going for and brace his arms under him, working Jack’s cock with renewed vigour. If Jack kept his eyes just on the Soldier, he could at least sort of tune out Rumlow’s grunts and groans and pretend he wasn’t there. Of course, he couldn’t pretend away what he was doing to the Soldier, but it still felt like the lesser of two evils. It wasn’t as if the Soldier wasn’t attractive. He was; Jack had heard many a rumour that it was one of the reasons he’d been chosen back in the day. And technically speaking, Jack was the one who hadn’t consented to this, if you could consider the Soldier’s programmed dedication to his handler capable of allowing consent. Even in his own head, Jack was starting to sound a little desperate to justify any of this, and he shoved the thoughts aside.
After a while, he managed to conjure up some of his rusty Russian. He’d never been good at languages at school and he hadn’t magically got better as an adult, but he had tried to pick up at least the basics. The Soldier preferred to speak Russian in the field, even though there was nothing wrong with his English at all and he had a natural, broad American accent. It meant they could communicate more easily on missions, even if the Soldier inevitably got annoyed by Jack’s limited command and went on ranting tangents that Jack didn’t need a translator to know were expletive-ridden speeches about how useless a handler he was. Still, right now, he needed it. Rumlow’s Russian was limited to field commands, so it was about the only thing close to some kind of privacy Jack was going to get right now. “<Well done>,” he offered, rough before he added, clumsily, “<You’re doing good.>”
The praise, as it always did, seemed to go straight to the Soldier’s head. His eyes flicked up to meet Jack’s, desperate for approval, desperate for affection, and Jack was a little ashamed to discover that the grateful look on the Soldier’s face was a hell of a turn on. He tried to keep his mind on what he was doing, and just gave him a nod. He wished that he knew a little more than he did; he wanted to tell the Soldier that they just needed to get through this, that it would be easier to let Rumlow get it out of his system.
He wanted, he realised, to apologise.
But that was one hell of an unhelpful train of thought right now. He didn’t owe the guy any apologies, whether or not he was his responsibility. Technically, the Soldier was Hydra’s property. The Soldier was not a person. He remembered that from his initiation into the program. That was where past handlers had fucked up, he’d been told. You had to always remember he was a weapon and nothing more. Pity for the thing - much as he probably deserved it with his ass in the air, getting pounded raw by Rumlow - wasn’t the Hydra way.
It didn’t exactly feel right, but it was what he’d been taught.
The Soldier’s long lashes seemed to brush his cheeks as he looked down again, closing his eyes for a few beats longer than was necessary. But at the same time, he flicked his tongue across the head of Jack’s cock, and finally, mercifully, Jack came, gritting his teeth to keep from making a sound. He could feel the Soldier swallowing, and felt nauseous. With a flick of his eyes up at Jack again, the Soldier drew back with a quiet gasp for breath, before he stared steadfastly at the couch. Jack shifted, drawing his pants back up, feeling more than a little disgusted by what he’d just done.
Rumlow, of course, seemed to still be having a great time. Jack finishing seemed to do absolutely nothing to dampen his enthusiasm, and Jack sat there awkwardly, wishing that he had headphones - or failing that a knitting needle to stab through his ears - to try and drown out the semi-rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh as he continued to fuck the Soldier. The Soldier had finally seemed to get that resistance was most definitely futile as he braced himself against the ground properly, his eyes downcast.
No, this was definitely not his first time, Jack thought, feeling annoyed at himself that he’d let it come to this. He had no idea how he could have avoided it, but looking at the Soldier’s absolute miserable set to his shoulders - and he would have put money on the fact that there couldn’t be anything worse than when he was insubordinate, but he would have been wrong - he wished there had been something he could have done. He had the urge to reach out and give some kind of comfort, but it seemed like a terrible fucking idea while Rumlow was still going.
So instead, he sat back, keeping his eyes trained on the Soldier. He wished he had the command of Russian that would let him tell him it wouldn’t be much longer, that even Rumlow had to come eventually. But he didn’t. And so all he could do was watch, feeling sick to his stomach.
It felt like an eternity before Rumlow came with one last groan, pulling out of the Soldier and letting him go, sitting back on the couch with his legs spread and cock bare, apparently sated. “Yeah,” he said, eventually, “He sure as shit isn’t a virgin.”
Jack didn’t reply, just watching as the Soldier brought his pants back up. After a moment, Jack told him, quiet, “Go back and stand watch at the window.”
Without hesitation, the Soldier got to his feet and marched straight back over to the window, smoothly picking his AK-47 up from where he’d left it by his rifle. It was his favourite weapon, and Jack wondered if that was the Soldier’s fucked up way of seeking some kind of comfort after what had just happened.
For his part, Rumlow laughed, finally, finally fucking doing his pants up again. “Jesus, Jack. You kick everyone out of bed that fast?”
“He’s got a job to do,” Jack replied, tone even, watching the tense set to the Soldier’s shoulders. He was just glad that Rumlow hadn’t recognised the command for what it was: mercy, letting the Soldier go back to what he was actually meant for, and getting him out of Rumlow’s direct proximity at the same time. It was too little, too late, but it was better than nothing. There was something tense about the Soldier’s jaw, a small muscle ticking. He wasn’t happy. Jack didn’t feel particularly happy either, and he really hoped Rumlow wasn’t up for round two.
The one small miracle was that the sun had started to go down while all that was happening, and the cabin was now mostly dark. There wasn’t any electricity, and Rumlow had been right earlier: it was fucking cold. Jack glanced over at him. The shadows gave Rumlow’s sharp features the look of something more sinister, even as he smiled back at Jack. Jack glanced away again, unsettled. After a moment, he offered, “You take the bed in back if you want.”
It was a little close to being an order, but the two of them had worked together for long enough now that it wouldn’t really matter. Rumlow grinned, stretching. “Yeah. Bet I know how you’re gonna keep yourself warm tonight.”
If there was one thing Jack knew for sure, it was that sometimes it was easier to let Rumlow believe whatever the fuck he wanted to believe. He gave him enough of a smile to elicit a laugh, and went back to looking over at the Soldier.
Something in Jack’s stomach twisted as Rumlow got to his feet, but the dark mood had seemingly passed. He guessed sex did that to a guy. Rumlow just stretched again. “Storm wasn’t meant to last more than ten hours, right? It’ll calm down by the morning and we can head back to the city. Regroup with the others and start again.”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief at the matter-of-fact commander returning. That was the Rumlow he liked best; that was the one he could deal with being trapped in a cabin next to. He gave him a nod, and Rumlow reached down to give him an affectionate cuff around the head, before he turned and walked through to the bedroom. Jack waited a few beats until he heard the door close, which nearly made him laugh - the two of them had just had sex with one person at the same time and now he was worried about modesty? - before he looked back at the Soldier. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” The Soldier didn’t look at him, staring out the window, still with the same tense set to his jaw.
With a nod, Jack muttered, “Good,” and shifted around until he was laying on his back, staring at the roof. He didn’t exactly feel like sleep would come any time soon, but at least the worst of the living nightmare was over. There was nothing more to say to the Soldier. There was no point to any of it. It wasn’t going to undo any of what had happened. He glanced over, though it was getting too dark to make anything out. The Soldier looked as if he was cradling his gun like a newborn baby, but otherwise he hadn’t moved a muscle.
For the longest time, Jack expected him to say something: to ask why the fuck that had just happened, to demand to know why Jack hadn’t done anything to stop it. But as the light faded completely, and the only thing left to see was the slight glint of something off the silver of metal, he realised that it was only his own conscience talking. The Soldier had complied, as he always did, and Jack was the only one who had a problem with it.
Eventually, unhappily, he slept.
Hail Hydra.