Chapter Text
Jamie doesn’t pass out so completely that he doesn’t wake when Rumlow makes noise. He hears Rumlow talking, low and quiet in the kitchen, but he doesn’t bother to move much. He sits up and takes the throw pillow to rest under his head, but that’s all he can manage.
When Rumlow passes in front of him again, he’s wearing clean clothes and his hair, still sweaty, has been pushed back to look somewhat normal.
He wonders if Rumlow cares about the ruined clothes. He’s never cared about the upholstery on this couch. Jamie scrubs it clean when they leave stains, but it’s seen better days. The days before they started this.
The alpha places two glasses down on the table and then takes up his position on the other end of the couch, feet on the table. They watch TV, and Jamie sits up enough to swallow the whole of the drink in one go.
“Pizza?”
Jamie nods.
He dozes for the forty minutes it takes before the food arrives, and Rumlow gets up wordlessly to retrieve it. They don’t use plates, and Jamie doesn’t get dressed. They don’t talk any more than that for a very long time.
He wonders about Jack, if he waits for Rumlow when the alpha is here all night, or if he goes home. He doesn’t think asking would be well received though. He doesn’t want to give the wrong impression. He’s not sure what impression that would be though.
Jamie does get up after some time. He cleans himself up, showers. He’s not exactly expecting anything from Rumlow, but he is somewhat surprised he’s still there. Jamie goes to his bedroom and pulls on a shirt and boxers. Rumlow’s clothes from earlier are in the hamper.
The alpha is busy on his phone when Jamie returns to his side of the couch. It’s damp with their combined mess, so Jamie ends up much closer to the alpha than he usually would.
Jamie could sit up normally, but he opts to stay curled up and under the blanket. They could be touching. The top of Jamie’s head to Rumlow’s thigh, if he wanted. He doesn’t.
Jamie falls asleep again, and wakes to the quiet crack of vertebrae as Rumlow stretches his neck. He doesn’t appear to be waiting for anything. He doesn’t appear uncomfortable. Jamie doesn’t know why he has stayed this long, though.
He rolls onto his back to consider the man’s profile. He sits on Rumlow’s right. Jamie hadn’t noticed that before, but Rumlow always sits so Jamie is on his right. It places the alpha further from the front door which is unusual for his designation, especially someone like Rumlow.
He wonders, not for the first time, why Rumlow is like this.
Why does he want to force someone to take him, force them to like it. He wonders about himself too, and he wonders it a little more when he turns over and puts his chin on Rumlow’s thigh.
“I’m sorry about your clothes”.
If Rumlow was confused by the act, he’s not anymore. He’s smirking when he places his hand on Jamie’s head, threading through the damp locks. He pets, scratching lightly. Jamie presses his cheek to the hard muscle of Rumlow’s thigh.
“Well, these things happen,” he says, “Messy, boys like you”.
Jamie hums, moving farther into the alphas space. Until his face is in Rumlow’s lap.
“Good boys clean up after themselves,” Jamie whispers, mouthing over Rumlow’s crotch.
The alpha chuckles, a deep rumbling sound.
“You’ve been a very good boy tonight, Jamie,” he says, indulgent. He doesn’t push Jamie down harder, or push him away. Jamie presses soft kisses to the alphas clothed cock. It doesn’t harden right away, so he continues the gentle affection.
Rumlow’s hand is still in his hair, then moves down, squeezing and kneading the back of his neck. With a soft sigh, Rumlow pulls him away. Just long enough to open his pants and pull himself free of the confines. He’s not even half hard, but it’s still beautiful.
Jamie is soft, gentle. He kisses the cock in front of him, licking wetly and tasting himself.
“Yeah,” Rumlow breathes, “Good boy”.
There’s a chance Rumlow wouldn’t have asked for this. Wouldn’t have started up again just a few hours after he’d finished twice already. But he’d stayed, and they’d existed together far too long and too casually for Jamie to trust it. Trust himself. So, this.
This was all anything was. An exchange. Transactional.
Yet Jamie is more than just perfunctory in this task. Then again, he wants something out of it too.
“Such a pretty little cock sucker,” the alpha above him rumbles, and Jamie hums happily. He feels the dick in his mouth begin to harden further under his gentle worship. He swirls his tongue around the fat, mushroomed head, then sucks softly and pulls away with a kiss.
“Open up,” Rumlow instructs, and Jamie obeys.
It’s gentle, for a long time. It takes a while before Rumlow is even fully hard, but he doesn’t seem to mind Jamie’s mouth on him like this. When he does fill out enough that he fills Jamie’s mouth and then some– he gets rougher.
Groaning, he pushes Jamie down to take him into his throat. Jamie is getting better at swallowing around the intrusion now. He’s had the practice. Rumlow starts to use him, but then he stops and resumes petting, letting Jamie work his mouth over him at his own pace.
“Take your time, darlin’,” Rumlow sighs pleasurably. He’s being surprisingly gracious, but then, he too is likely tired and worn out. The alpha is relaxed, and Jamie wonders if this is the first time for that.
Jamie doesn’t mind the taste of himself, and he chases it for some time before it’s all been licked away. He starts to work more seriously after that, sucking and bobbing instead of kisses and licks. He brings his right hand up to stroke what he can’t take into his mouth. The alpha groans above him and pushes him down harder.
He takes hold of Jamie’s hair again, and this time he doesn’t stop until he’s done.
Jamie swallows what he’s given and lays his cheek down on the alpha's thigh.
“Good boy”.
Jamie falls asleep again.
He wakes up when Rumlow slides out from under him, and squeaks when the alpha bends and picks him up. He’s speechless as he’s carried into the bedroom and placed on his bed. He’s speechless when Rumlow pulls the drapes closed on the rising sun, and he’s speechless when he hears the alpha leaving, his key locking the front door behind him.
Gordon doesn’t ask why Jamie didn’t make it into work the day before, and no one says a word when Jamie drops a glass just as Rumlow walks through the bar. He hadn’t really considered that Rumlow didn’t just cancel Jamie’s shift at the bar, but his own regular appointments too.
Somehow, despite the three orgasms that Jamie had less than graciously provided the alpha with the night before, he still watches Jamie like a hawk all night long. At the end of the night, Jamie moves to begin his closing duties. He did just miss an entire shift, so he ought to make up for it.
Rumlow doesn’t intend to let him.
“Jamie,” he calls, leaving money on the counter for the two other bartenders.
“Yes sir?”
“Get your stuff, we’re leaving”.
“But don’t I have–,” he begins, looking around at the work still left. Jess and Hanna both look back at him, a mix of emotions, namely pity. His boss won’t meet his eye.
“Now”
“Yes sir”.
Jamie sits in the backseat alone, and Rumlow chats idly with his silent companion in the front. Jamie doesn’t know if Rumlow plans to use him tonight, but he sincerely hopes not. Jamie is still sore, still feeling high on events of the night prior.
He is not so used up that he doesn’t notice that there is a car following them, though. It’s not a long drive though, and perhaps it is a coincidence. That’s what he tells himself at least; why he doesn’t say anything.
It is not a coincidence.
Jack parks like normal, but he stops Rumlow with a hand on his arm. They both freeze, waiting. The small dark car that had been following drives passed with tinted front windows, and for a long moment, nothing happens. Jamie can feel the tension though, and when Rumlow gets out of the car, it’s quick and sure. He practically hauls Jamie out of the back and drags him, half running, toward the building. Jamie doesn’t resist, moves with him and keeps up easily.
They are not fast enough.
The tires squeal, and that is what saves Rumlow’s life. That, and Jamie yanking them both down at approximately the exact same moment Rumlow pulls him down. They scramble behind another car parked on the road as four more gunshots ring out. Jamie hears glass shattering. Dogs bark in the distance, and the small car's engine fades off into the distance.
“Don’t move,” Rumlow barks.
Jamie bites back a protest. The car might make a third pass– the shooter knows they missed. Right?
Rumlow B-lines back to the car, to Jack.
Did the shooter miss?
Jamie raises up enough to peer over the car, just as he hears the sound of the small car returning. He can’t warn the others, they’re too far away, but he hopes Rumlow’s hearing is good.
Another five rounds are fired, and this time, answering shots sound. The car squeals away following the sound of a popping tire and shattering of glass. It doesn’t crash, but it’s not likely to make another pass. Sirens wail in the distance now.
Jamie stands, eyes seeking his companions.
He finds them, not entirely unscathed.
“Mother fucker,” Rumlow swears on behalf of Jack, who grips his shoulder and bleeds on the sidewalk.
He hears Jack mumble. Jamie can hardly hear him, through distance and the quiet cadence of the alphas tone. He can’t make out words, but it’s enough to tell him Jack is alive.
Jamie rushes the twenty feet between their positions. “Police are coming,” Jamie says, and doesn’t know why.
“Mother fucker,” Rumlow curses again. He’s gripping Jack’s arm, now, blood seeping through his fingers. Jack leans into the car they’re using for cover, and Rumlow looks to their own car, further down the street.
There are very few cameras on this street, none that point directly at Rumlow’s apartment building. It’s intentional, Jamie knows. Rumlow lives in shadowy places, even when they’re brightly lit with luxury furniture.
“Come on, big guy,” Rumlow grunts, hauling Jack up to his feet. The other alpha is pale, stumbles at first, but gains his footing quickly. Rumlow doesn’t stop touching him, though. Jamie uses his keys to get them in the building, stopping Rumlow from leaving blood on the doors.
“You’re leaving a trail,” Jamie whispers, then bangs open the door to the stairs. Once inside, Jamie pulls off his flannel, shoving it at the pair. Rumlow balls it up, uses it to stem the bleeding.
“Mother fucker,” he says for the third time, looking down at the blood spilled beneath their feet. Jack’s boots leave prints of crimson red on the concrete. Rumlow bends and starts pulling Jack’s shoes off, and then corralling Jack up the stairs. Trail free.
Once in the apartment, Rumlow pulls Jack into the bathroom. He doesn’t spare Jamie another glance until he’s taken a better look at Jack’s arm. There’s a first aid kit that Jamie didn’t even know about being produced, and then Rumlow is ripping the sleeve of Jack’s once white shirt open.
Jamie hovers.
There is a bullet lodged in Jack’s upper arm, and yet Jack doesn’t say anything.
Rumlow grumbles under his breath, cursing and swearing for them both it would seem. Jamie watches Jack as Jack watches Rumlow though. The alpha is pale and sweating, typical of the pain and shock he must be feeling. He’s steady though. They both are. It’s not the first gunshot they’ve seen together, not the first Jack has felt.
Rumlow’s hands are sure and quick, teasing out the bullet and moving fast and confident to stem the added bleeding.
“Hold that a sec,” Rumlow says, and he takes Jack’s other hand and presses it down where he wants it on the gauze. It lingers before he takes his hands away and prepares a suture kit.
Rumlow is about halfway through stitching the wound when there is a loud, booming knock on the door.
“And that would be the police,” Rumlow mutters, and his eyes turn assessing.
Rumlow owns the police, Jamie knows. That doesn’t mean he wants them to know he’s here. Jamie doesn’t begin to claim he knows the way Rumlow’s criminal world works, how far his power stretches. If he could simply open the door and tell the cops to leave, or if he’d…
Rumlow is reaching for the gun he left on the bathroom counter.
“I’ll get rid of them,” Jamie says quickly.
Rumlow still picks up the gun.
“Just how exactly–”
Another, much louder banging interrupts him.
“Trust me,” Jamie says, and knows that Rumlow absolutely does not trust him. He grips the gun a little more sure, and then nods at the door, silently commanding Jamie to answer it.
There is a threat to it now, though. Jamie can see Rumlow out of the corner of his eye, holding his gun. Jamie moves quickly though, ignoring it for the most part. He is no stranger to moving under the threat of an armed guard.
Jamie strips off his shirt, kicks out of his jeans. He grabs Rumlow’s discarded shirt from the night before. It stinks of sex, and of his own cum. He pulls it around himself, not bothering with the buttons and runs to the door, pulling it open in a rush.
“Hi,” he says, and then lets his eyes widen. “Oh,” he adds. “Not the pizza man,” he gives a charming, sarcastic grin.
He plays the part of being startled well, but the two very young, very green beat cops are even more surprised by the sight of a half naked male omega.
Rumlow had said to him once, that he was a rare, exotic thing. Show some skin, he’d been told. It works almost too well, because whole seconds pass as the two officers drink in the sight of him, silent and blushing.
“Uh,” the one says. He gets elbowed by his companion, but she also doesn’t speak. The man blinks a few times, eyes darting down and over Jamie’s body and then back to his face three times.
He visibly shakes himself, and then clears his throat. “Good evening,” he greets. “Sorry to bother you, but we are going around the building with a few questions,” he recites.
“Is something wrong?”
“Are you alone in the apartment, s-sir?” the woman asks, seeming to stutter on the idea of giving him a serious address.
Jamie looks down at himself, and then back at her, “No,” he answers, and he catches movement in the corner of his eye but doesn’t let his attention get drawn away.
“R-right,” the man says, “Is your alpha, uh–”
“He’s not in a condition to be answering the door…” Jamie says with a nervous giggle. “Is there something wrong?” he asks again.
“Did you hear anything odd in the last half an hour?” he asks, seeming to put the idea of calling on Jamie’s alpha out of his mind.
“Yeah, I heard fireworks I think,” Jamie says, and then blinks, “Oh shit, were those gunshots?”
The woman nods, because Jamie’s grip holding the shirt closed slips for dramatism and that seems to short circuit the man's brain. “Yes, unfortunately there was a drive-by shooting that occurred nearby, with an exchange of gunfire,” she tells him.
“Oh my god,” Jamie feigns, and leans into the doorframe, as if faint at the revelation.
“The perpetrators fled in their vehicle, however we have reason to believe that the intended victim or victims fled on foot to this area. Did you hear or see anyone in the building that seemed suspicious to you?”
“Oh,” Jamie breathes, “I really wasn’t paying attention, I’ve been uh… for like hours now,” he looks down at himself and tugs the hem of Rumlow’s shirt down a little, shy. “But that older lady, in 109, she’s always letting people in the security door. You’re not supposed to hold the door, you know, but she doesn’t care,” Jamie offers. “You don’t think someone got inside the building, do you?”
“No, no you’re fine,” the man says, eyes on Jamie’s thighs. “Uh, but if you do think you might have heard something, you can call me, I mean, call– call the precinct,” he stumbles, and nearly throws a business card at Jamie.
Jamie lets his fingers linger when he takes the offered card, and that alone had the young man so flustered, his partner had to drag him away.
Jamie closes the door and locks it with a sharp snap. He doesn’t turn until he feels Rumlow has taken his gun off of Jamie.
“You handled that well”.
“I don’t think he’s ever seen a boy one,” Jamie snipes. He glares at the gun until Rumlow, smirking, puts it completely away.
Jamie doesn’t grant him another glance as he moves back to his bedroom and redresses. He pulls a hoodie over his head, and then yanks his jeans back on. He doesn’t want Jack to see any more of his arm than he had in the stairwell. Jamie would guess the alpha wasn’t paying much mind to that though.
Rumlow returns to the aid of his body-guard, and Jamie returns to hovering. Unsure what else he could really do.
“Will the police know your car?”
“They won’t touch it,” Rumlow answers. “Just have to wait them out,” he adds as he starts to wrap and tape Jack’s arm.
“Does he need a doctor?”
“Do you need a doctor?” Rumlow turns flatly to Jack.
He gets no answer.
“Signs point to no,” he reports, sarcastically. He picks up the bullet from the counter and rinses it before holding it up to the light, inspecting. “You’re awfully calm for an omega who just got shot at,” he remarks, calmly.
“They were shooting at you,” Jamie corrects.
Rumlow hums, still inspecting the bullet. He pockets it, then turns to wash his blood covered hands, scrubbing with a practised sort of precision. Most people struggle when it comes to washing blood from their hands. Rumlow takes to cleaning the mess efficiently, leaving no trace of blood behind. He goes so far as to toss the bloodied clothes in a trash bag.
Rumlow eases Jack’s t-shirt off, helping in a task Jamie is confident Jack could do alone. This doesn’t seem odd to Jack, who submits to everything Rumlow does, silent as ever.
Jack does seem shy, though, when he sees that Jamie is still hovering. He tries to shrink in on himself, hide his exposed body. Jamie forces himself to turn away, walk away. Give privacy like he should have been all along.
He’d still seen it though. Jack’s body. The alpha has been shot before, stabbed. Scars litter his body, and Jamie wonders about Rumlow.
He’s never seen any part of Rumlow’s body, just his dick, his hands, his face. What secrets were there that Jamie had never thought to explore? It never seemed strange that Rumlow didn’t undress, it seemed in character, like it was part of the power he had over Jamie– stripping the omega but not himself.
He wonders now if there was more to it.
The scars on Rumlow’s face dipped beyond his collar, Jamie knew. How far?
Rumlow leaves Jack in the bathroom and moves to the bedroom. Jamie feels like he is loitering in his own home– only this isn’t really his home. This is Rumlow’s apartment, and Jamie just keeps it warm for him.
The alpha brings out one of his shirts from the closet. The supply now depleting. Jamie listens to the two men as he sits, stiffly, at the kitchen island. Waiting for what happens next.
“You’ll like it,” Rumlow says, in response to Jack’s continued silence. He sounds bickering, like Jack had argued with him on some point or another. He hadn’t.
Jamie looks around the apartment helplessly, and then, as if a switch gets flipped in his mind for no apparent reason… He springs into action.
Jack must be in pain, he thinks. They are both likely shaken, though maybe not as much as a regular civilian would be. Jamie rushes to his bedroom, riffling through the bedside drawer for the bottle of pills he was given when his arm was replaced. It’s pain medication, something strong, but it never lasted more than an hour in his system and so he never really used them.
Pills, and then water. He fills a glass with cold water he keeps in the fridge. Then thinks water might not be enough, and turns to the liquor cabinet. He doesn’t think Rumlow will mind sharing with Jack, since he’s offered drinks to Jamie from the supply. He pours both alphas a healthy amount with steady hands and a fast beating heart.
He collects Jack’s boots too, and takes them to the kitchen sink, starts to clean the bloodied soles when they finally emerge from the bathroom.
Rumlow all but shoves Jack down on the couch, placing him in his own usual space. Jamie catalogues this information, Rumlow letting Jack sit to his left, and then moves on.
He brings his offerings to them swiftly.
“It’s pain stuff,” Jamie explains of the unmarked pill bottle. “I don’t know what it’s called”.
He helpfully opens the bottle and dumps four out into Jack’s palm. The alpha's eyes widen in surprise, and Rumlow makes a shocked sort of sound.
“Didn’t really take you for a junkie,” Rumlow remarks, and takes two of the pills and hands them back. Jamie accepts it and puts it back in the bottle, leaving it on the table with the drinks. He gives Rumlow a flat expression, and then waits for Jack to take the pills, handing him the water.
He’s playing nurse for the first time in…
A very long time.
“Where’d you get all those?” Rumlow demands of him, and Jamie’s eyes cut over to see a very serious set to the alphas face.
He blinks, surprised by this, “A doctor,” Jamie says, “What are they?”.
Rumlow’s eyes widen, or well, one of them does. He gives a disbelieving shake to his head, and snorts, “After you got under the desk for him?”
Jamie doesn’t deign to answer. He goes and retrieves Jack’s boots, bringing them to the sock clad alpha and placing them gently at his feet.
Jack blushes, ducks his head in a quiet thanks, and begins to stuff his feet into the shoes.
“These are oxycontin, Jamie. There is a thousand dollars in street value in that bottle. Where did you get it?”
Jamie looks up sharply, and his surprise must be evident because Rumlow sighs, the sharpness fading. He still waits for his answer.
“A doctor,” Jamie insists, and then notes that Jack is struggling to lace the boots. Jamie kneels down wordlessly, brushes Jack's fumbling hand away. “When she bolted the prosthetic to my skeleton, she gave me those,” he says, as he also struggles with the dexterity of shoe tying. He still does better than Jack. He glances up as he moves to the second shoe, and Jack’s face is bright pink.
Jamie looks back at his task, and then at Rumlow.
“You didn’t use them?” the alpha asks.
“They didn’t work”.
There is silence for a long time, “Can I sell them?” Jamie whispers, finishing with Jack’s shoes. He sits back, but remains on the floor before the two alphas.
“Yeah,” he sighs, and then shifts to pull out his wallet. “Only to me,” he warns, “Never take anything like that to the streets. Get yourself killed”.
Jamie swallows, it’s only a matter of time, he thinks. “Yes sir,” he says.
Rumlow hands Jamie money, and Jamie pushes the pill bottle across the coffee table. He pockets what he’s given, but he doesn’t really bother to count it.
Rumlow leans forward and picks up one of the glasses of whiskey, then pushes it into Jack’s hand. He regards Jamie for a while, sipping from his own glass. Jack downs his in one go, he winces from the bitter burn. The small hiss the loudest noise in the room for a long time.
“You’re an impressive liar, doll,” Rumlow says to him, and then, without looking, he touches Jack’s face, tips his head back until the alpha falls back into the cushion behind him, neck bared openly.
Jamie’s never seen an alpha do something like that before.
His eyes are caught on the pale, exposed expanse of Jack’s throat. He watches his throat bob, then his fingers begin to loosen on the empty glass. Jamie leans forward, chest bumping the alpha’s knee as he takes the cup. Jack’s chest stutters with a silent, hitching breath.
“Bartender,” Jamie corrects, firm but soft.
“You’re a better liar than you are a bartender,” Rumlow remarks.
“What about my other skills?” Jamie whispers.
The alpha’s smirk is telling enough. “That, you do best,” he admits.
Jamie swallows a nervous bout of laughter. “Thank you, sir,” he says, and then his eyes fall back to the other man between them. “Will he be alright?”.
Rumlow smirks, then turns to Jack. He grips the man’s slack jaw, then lets his hand trail lower, over his throat. Perhaps he’s measuring the other man’s pulse, or perhaps not. It’s as possessive as it is caring; gentle and confident. Jack doesn’t fight it.
“You alright, Jackie?” Rumlow’s voice has an unmistakable teasing edge.
Jamie watches Jack swallow against the hand on his throat.
“Yes sir” Jack replies, a whisper like a prayer.
“Good man,” Rumlow smirks, squeezing softly before letting go.
Alphas don’t submit to other alphas. That cannot possibly be what is occurring before him. The drugs, the drink, must have made Jack loopy.
But Jack… is just Jack.
He doesn’t move beyond what Rumlow tells him, directs him, or arranges him. Like Jamie himself, he exists only for the whim of Rumlow.
Brock Rumlow.