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stylishstrike · 18 hours ago

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Enjoying the idea that Rumlow and Rollins survived everything and disappeared to lay low for a few years.

Until Bucky catches wind that they're alive and tracks them down, convinces them to help him go after some of the harder to get Hydra remnants.

And they're not sold on it, not at all. But Bucky tells them he can get them pardoned or offers enough money to get their attention or maybe it's a few people that they didnt really have the warm and fuzzies for themselves and it's just a good opportunity.

Regardless, he talks them into it.

Similar to Zemo, they also get a lot of respect for playing the role of Bucky's handlers again. Especially considering Hydra's fall out.

It's not an ideal situation by any means, and Bucky has very conflicted feelings when it comes to them that so far he's been able to shove deep into a little box and not think about.

They try the words, of course. As soon as he gets a chance, Rumlow is saying them. The Russian familiar and alluring as it leaves his mouth and there's a sharp pull to fall into them.

The soldier, who'd been impatiently waiting under his skin since learning his handlers were alive, surges forward at the words, and there's a swoop in his lower belly and a tremble to his legs.

However, the words don't work anymore, regardless of how hard it is to clear his head. Compliance was a habit, even without the conditioning or words.

They look both disappointed and impressed.

The soldier settles back down, unhappy and needy.

He doesn't realize what's he's doing at first. Honest.

The first few days are fine, normal. But they all start to slide into old habits.

It's too easy. Too familiar.

He starts walking behind them, quiet and watchful. Right at their heels.

They sit and he stays standing. His knees don't twitch, the the space between their legs when they sprawl out in the chairs doesnt look inviting.

The soldier practically whines in his head.

He catches himself looking to them when decisions need to be made.

They start to speak for him.

They give orders that he follows without thinking. It's commander and handler, whispers the soldier. We always follow.

It takes a little while but they start touching him too. Manhandling him because he let's them.

They take advantage of it. They're good at getting him where they want him, especially when they're out and Bucky can't snap at them without getting too much attention. Usually they're able to get him distracted enough so he ends up backed into a wall and not able to see much else but them. They like that, forcing all his attention to be one them.

They always do this, team up and get him all tangled up until they get whatever they want. He might have been the fist of Hydra, but they always played him like they'd personally made him.

They patch each other up, which is always intimate. If it's Bucky that needs some attention then they usually either shove him down until he's sitting on the floor and they can sit on a chair or sit him down in the chair and they stand. Whatever lets them get to the places that need attention most.

The fact that they put him lower than them isn't lost on him. He gets it. That's not an excuse for why he just does it after a few times, just settles himself lower and looks up at them, not even realizing it until he sees their face. He tells himself he doesn't get up because he needs the help bandaging up, but he spends a little too long thinking about how pleased they looked.

If they need patching up then he can go a little overboard. His head goes a little fuzzy with rage someone hurt them and worry someone hurt them.

Sometimes, he zones out a little while working, only coming back to himself once they're taken care of. Usually, the soldier is still a little too in control. He sniffs the soldier is like an animal at times and waits for the scent of new blood in case he missed something, but it just smells like medicine and an old first aid kit.

They share a subtle side eye and hint of a smirk and it's usually enough to knock him out of it. He makes himself scarce for a while until the embarrassment and the soldier stop burning so much.

They put hands in his hair. Tugging, petting, anything to get his attention.

Somehow Rollins always knows the exact spot to rub at when Bucky has a headache turns out getting fucked in the head for 70 years will leave you with some really nasty and frequent headaches who knew and he does it roughly like someone rubbing at a dog's ear, but Bucky also acknowledges he presses into it like one.

The soldier purrs at it and Bucky doesn't even try to fight that one. Those head rubs deserve it.

Eventually, they get a hand on the back of his neck. They don't squeeze, but it has Bucky freezing, torn. The soldier is silent and breathless, and Bucky isn't much better.

That particular conditioning had been with them. Scruff him like a kitten, and he went to his knees. He went to them a lot anyway, but this was always almost instant.

He doesn't know if it still works.

The hand lingers like a warning, thumb rubbing over the skin a few times in something that's both a tease and a threat, before it gets pulled back and they both grin at him like they had to try.

They hadn't tried it though. Not really.

Why hadn't they tried it?

Brock and Jack catch on first. That Barnes might be more soldier than not after a few months together.

All the old habits came back beautifully.

He keeps his eyes down, questions them less and less, defaults to their comfort before his own.

Eventually, they give an order that Barnes wouldn't have followed.. but he wasn't really Barnes right now, was he?

A kill order that he actions without a second thought.

They pushed it too soon though. They didn't completely have him yet and they pay for it.

Bucky comes back to himself with blood on his skin and a heavy sinking in his gut.

And the combination of stress, loss of sleep, edging back into the soldier, and just genuine trauma is finally too much.

Bucky has a few rough days. Really rough.

Days where he doesn't really talk and his head is killing him. He can't get the taste of metal and blood out of his mouth and he can't eat anything with how nauseous he is.

And they're keeping their distance.

Cautious.

Unsure what he's thinking, if he's going to snap out of whatever has taken ahold of him and realize how close he is to sliding right back into it. The soldier is sitting right under his skin like a bruise ready to start showing.

Bucky keeps to himself for a few days but he can't.

He can't even see. His headache is so bad that everything is black spots and the occasional burst of abstract color.

He feels horrible and he felt like this when he first got away from Hydra. He vaguely remembers coming off all the drugs and conditioning and injuries and thinking death would actually have been so much better.

He remembers thinking he would have done anything to feel better. He would have done anything to have his handlers.

Because Rumlow and Rollins were good when he got like this.

The headaches aren't new and the soldier couldn't function like that. It wasn't something they could just beat or shock out of him, even though other handlers hadn't ever seemed to realize that.

They had to get him through it.

And that softness that they occasionally showed him, if you can call it that, he kept to himself.

He never told anyone, not even Steve. It felt too vulnerable, like not only showing his underbelly but theirs too, and he refused to do that. His conditioning didn't allow him to reveal any weakness of his handlers.

Wrong. That was wrong. There were no specific rules for that necessarily but he refused. The soldier was loyal to hydra by force, but to his handlers, it was by choice.

He gives in. Somewhere there's a part of him that cries because he was supposed to be better but the larger part of him is relieved. The soldier is relieved.

He lets himself sink into what's left of the soldier and it's welcoming with how familiar it is.

He goes to them.

Barely remembers stumbling to where they had been on the couch of the shitty little safehouse, probably trying to figure out how long before he lost it and killed all of them.

He doesn't register the pain in his knees when he drops hard to them they'll heal, kneeling in the little space between them. They're hip to hip.

The little couch didn't have room for him, but that's fine. He didn't want to be on it.

He presses his face against their thighs and whines. Bares the back of his neck easily, manages to wrap a weak hand around the leg on either side him and waits.

He can barely hear over the pounding in his head but it doesn't matter. They don't talk to him when he's like this.

It takes a few minutes and he curls in closer, trying to make himself smaller.

A big hand finds exactly the right spot to rub almost the first try, and it's Rollins. He could pick them out in every way. Scent, sight, taste, touch, etc. He knows them and their hands, but Rollins also always finds the sore spot when it comes to the soldier's headaches.

The soldier can't ever seem to get the angle right, even when he finds the spot.

Rumlow gets a hand in his hair and fists it. He doesn't pull, just holds it. There's not enough hair to pull, part of him mourns. We cut it off.

It's a constant pressure that has him drawing the first full breath into his lungs in days.

He's wilted against them, exhausted, and the horrible headache finally receding a little. Enough to have him blinking slow and exhausted at the fabric of the couch, and he almost startles when Rumlow asks him condescendingly if he's gonna start freaking out again.

He just manages a barely there shake of his head and turns to press his face further against Rumlow's thigh while also pressing up into Rollins' hand.

Even with the clear change in the soldier, at least for the moment, they have to be careful.

If he gets too freaked out then he'll disappear or have someone else get involved.

Maybe call some of his friends, not that he had many with Rogers out of the picture. And if other people started to get involved then they'd see how deep the soldier was and they'd absolutely end up separated, and either in prison or dead.

None of that was acceptable.

The trigger words don't work anymore, and they don't have the chair to wipe him.

So they hit keep hitting on all tender spots they know are still lingering.

They pile on the praise and touches.

He was so good following orders.

It was always a pleasure to see him work.

Just as quick and deadly as he's always been.

He followed orders so well, and they did what they had to do. Sure, it was messy, but it was necessary.

They make sure to touch him a lot. Especially after he got so sick with the headache.

Something fractured that day and they can smell blood in the water.

Their poor soldier sweetheart, all lost and broken. At least he seemed to remember who he belonged to, even if it had taken longer than it should have.

They might be a little soft for him. They'd always enjoyed him, enjoyed working with him because he did his job well. They took pride when he did well with them as his team/handlers. He represented them well.

And he tried hard. He always had a habit of looking at them after missions, never asking for it but always hopeful he'd get something from them. Some praise or attention or something else to reassure him he'd done well.

He makes it easy for them to be easy with him, a little kinder than they would ever usually be.

A soft spot for the fucking solider. God damn it.

But the longer they spend together, the deeper the soldier falls into it, the healthier he gets.

All of them, actually.

Turns out whatever combination of Barnes and the soldier they're dealing with is a manipulative little shit.

They all eat better and more consistently.

The soldier won't eat unless they're practically handfeeding him, and that turns into well, If they're taking the time doing that then they might as well feed themselves too. Not all the time, that'd be ridiculous, but he's a needy thing sometimes.

And there's something about having him take a bite from between their fingers, careful not to accidentally nip them and followed by a quick tongue because apparently he's got a sweet tooth now and anything that leaves sugar or syrup or cream behind on their fingers always has him lingering and they absolutely have not suddenly started having more sweet things for dinner nope that'd be ridiculous they don't spoil the fucking thing stormy eyes glancing up through dark lashes... that they'll never be able to fully describe.

Not that they would. They might actually kill anyone who saw him like that. What? The soldier isn't the only one protective over soft underbellies.

They all sleep better.

Like on nights where the adrenaline is still burning, and they can't sleep, either from restlessness or paranoia.

The soldier slinks through the safe houses, silent and haunting. There's no doubt that he'll kill anything that steps foot into the house that isn't one of them.

And he does.

One night where they had let their guard down a little too easy, lured into sleep by a warm soldier between them and the exhaustion from fight.

Rumlow had woken up between one breath and the next, completely still and ears already straining. It was completely quiet. Even the bugs had gone silent, and not a light for miles outside the little cabin they'd found to crash in.

He knew Rollins was awake and waiting, too. Just like he knew the soldier was hunting.

He could practically see it through the pitch black night, the quiet violence the soldier was capable of. Could almost see the flash of a blade because he wouldn't risk waking them if they were still sleep by using a gun, and because the solider sometimes prefered to work with his hands even if he didn't admit it.

They could have gone back to sleep. There's no place safer than under the watch of their soldier, but they worry.

God, they're soft now. What the fuck happened to them?

And after the smell of blood had come and gone and the sounds of the night had picked back up, he inevitably tried to sneak back in between them, still bloody.

Sometimes they allowed it, because they were exhausted and their soldier even more so, especially after a 2nd fight, but usually Rollins would let out an annoyed absolutely not and they all ended up having to get up, change the sheets and shove the soldier into a quick shower.

That goes the other way, too.

Sometimes, the soldier gets restless, paranoia making him restless and uneasey, making him snappy. Which is never tolerated, and he knows it. But sometimes he's looking for a punishment.

And he comes back to himself, whatever himself means anymore, laying on the floor in front of whatever ugly couch is in the safehouse of the week, usually disgusted by whatever he sees under it, and stretches long like a cat.

Usually, he's sore. Sometimes, already bandaged up or whatever needed to be done after his punishment.

His handlers sit on the couch above him, usually one of them with their legs thrown up on the coffee table and the other slouched down, the soldier basically right under their feet, caged in between their legs and the side of the couch. Safesafesafe.

Because his handlers won't let anything get him. They won't let anyone take him away again.

One of them usually drops a blanket down on him, and he curls up under it, under them, ignores the spiders and fuzz balls under the couch, and dozes.

#hydra husbands

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