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He's the MAN! Right? ;P
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Rumlow x Calhoun by queen-of-olympus
Rumlow x Calhoun
"Rumlow. Nothing. Will make me love you less. Especially not something as fucking stupid as scars."

 I was doodling and a scene that I've been wanting to draw for a long time came to mind. It's a scene after Rumlow's injury where he thinks Diana won't want him anymore because he's been badly burned and will have those scars for the rest of his life. Sorry for shit quality, I have no scanner and I need to get one, but it's really low on the list of priorities right now... Anyways, have some angst.

Quote from:…
Brock Rumlow (Crossbones) belongs to Marvel
Diana Calhoun (Caliber) belongs to me.

Rumlow's two week recovery went by quicker than I thought. I thought it would drag on. I don't know how it felt to Rumlow, but he didn't complain. He is up on his feet, his burns nearly healed. His scars are raised and angry, pink with the new skin. He's coping as far as I can tell. But I can't be sure. I'm mostly just glad that I can touch him without hurting him again. He is too. We've packed up shop at the main HYDRA base and we're being flown via Helicopter to the new base. The team is buzzing with excitement.

 Rumlow had been cleared for medium duty, and more importantly, sex. He and I nearly fell over each other to get back to our quarters. He kissed me fervently, pinning my hands above my head and pressing me against the wall.
 "I love you." I whispered, kissing him again. He smiles, kissing me back.  
 "Diana," He says quietly. "Thank you."
 "For what?" I ask, wrapping my legs around his hips. His eyes meet mine. He has deep scarring around them from the burns, but those honey-colored hues still gleam, he's still him.
 "For sticking beside me."
 "Rumlow," I say, grabbing his chin, "Look me in the eye." He'd broken eye contact with me, but I bring it back, staring at him. Boring holes into his head. "Rumlow. Nothing. Will make me love you less. Especially not something as fucking stupid as scars. I told you. It doesn't bother me." He rams his hips into mine, kissing my throat as he does so.
 "Good." He whispers against my throat, pressing me against the wall and kissing me again.

 I don't touch his face like I used to. He doesn't meet my eyes, even when I try to get him to. This time was different. It was desperate, passionate, intense. But it lacked something that I couldn't place. It was like a piece of Rumlow had been ripped out of him, and I had no idea how to help him get it back. He and I become one against that wall, neither one, in that instant, caring what the other looks like, just feeling each other. At the end, Rumlow is exhausted and I am too, so he carries me to bed, laying us down in the cool sheets, and we rest together for a while. I don't sleep, and neither does Rumlow, we're both just relaxed and content to lay with each other. His arms wrap around my body, one hand firmly planted on my ass, his arm around my waist. He nuzzles me, nosing my neck, giving me soft kisses all over my face. I find it impossible to tear my gaze away from his hazel eyes. He kisses my lips passionately, taking away my breath like he had many times before, until he's excited again and I'm panting. We make love again, hands searching now, exploring. Mine find the new curves and rises and falls of his body, recognizing the old, memorizing the new. His hands hold me close to his body, his lips capture mine in a way that tells me he's claimed me as his, and I couldn't be happier. He smiles, and I reach up to touch his shorter hair. He leans his head back, and I kiss his throat.
 "Babe," He says, wrapping his arms around me. "I'm lucky I got you." I smile and kiss him again. Our faces are only inches apart, and he places gentle kisses on my nose, lips, cheeks.
 "I love you." I whisper, "I love you, and I'm not letting you go. For anything." His arms tighten momentarily and then a communicator beeps loudly. Rumlow jerks his head back from mine with a soft groan and releases me so I can check the message.

Meeting immediately.

I look at Rumlow, hastily throwing on whatever clothes I can find. Rumlow did a good job of tossing them around the room, and I shoot him looks as he looks for clothes. I snag his shirt and I slide in to it, pulling on my fatigue pants and then lacing up my boots. Rumlow doesn't realize that I have his shirt until I'm out the door and he's left in our room with no shirt.
My hair was a mess. On my way to the 'urgent' meeting, I snatch a hat off of one of the trainees and keep walking. The man looks at me incredulously, but when I look at him, he knows who I am and backs off. I look at the hat. It's a Military Issue Green Beret. I make sure to memorize his face so I can return the hat to him. He keeps on stepping despite his hat being stolen, not saying a word. He might hold a position on one of the most elite military groups, but he knows who I am based on my old service record, and my current one. I was a Super Soldier, in a completely different depth. Rumlow jogs to catch up with me, wearing a black tee shirt. I smirk, and keep walking. His hair is also a little out of sorts, but he smooths it down with his hand. I watch the lines of his arms as he does so, out of the corner of my eye, but keep walking. Rumlow knows I'm watching him. We make our way to the briefing room and on our way in, I smooth down the beret like I'd learned in Academy, badge over my right eye,flat down the left side of my head. Pierce is waiting for us at the head of the table, face neutral. Rollins falls in beside me and Rumlow, Lester and Batroc come in together, both wearing workout clothes. The Braddocks are moments behind them. They too had been working out.
 "Good to see all of you." Pierce says. He eyes Rumlow and I, and Rum does a good job of looking passive. I follow his lead.
 "Sir, we got the blip. What's so important?" I ask.
 "We're moving out in twenty minutes." Says Pierce, "Are you all ready?"  
 "Yes sir." We all say in unison. Rollins, as usual, snaps to attention a little quicker than I thought normal, but I can appreciate the enthusiasm.
 "Grab the last of your things and we'll move out." Pierce orders, "Dismissed."

 We arrive at the new facility in a few hours. It was far from the old place, off the grid, and removed. I liked it. It was a large beast, built into the side of a mountain, camouflaged from view. The Blue Ridge Mountains shield the landing pad from view, unless you know where to look. The pilot lands, taking us down below tree level, into the mountain. We hop out once the helicopter roters stop moving and look around. We're in a hangar, lines of equipment parked in rows, vehicles, weapons. We move through this area, getting to a door, which we pass through to reach the main floors of the facility. Rumlow and I walk in the front, flanked by Rollins and Clay.
 I am not prepared for what I see. Beyond the main corridor lies a huge gym. Workout gear lies on the outside rims and at the center is a boxing ring, ready for the MMA Finals instead of training. It's well lit, large, padded well and sturdy. From the ceiling hang rings for climbing and strength training, and a track is suspended, twenty feet or so in the air. We go through the gym area, passing through another hall. There are rooms on both sides of the hall, the doors spaced far apart, telling me that the rooms are large. At the end of the hall is a junction, one going right, one going left. The left has an elevator sign, the right has my Sergeant Major Chevrons with a skull in the center instead of a star. I smirk at this, knowing exactly what it means. Schmidt actually took my word and separated Rumlow and I from the rest of the rooms. The walls are thick, made of concrete, so I know that no sound is coming through them. The men disband to head to their quarters. Rollins had a set of wings on his door, the Braddocks had their ranks, Lester had a Bullseye, Batroc, and I think this was a joke, had a baguette on his door. There were two other doors where people didn't go in. Two. I wonder why two. One door has an eagle on it, the other is blank. Two empty rooms. One had to be Marie, the other, I had no idea. Not that I cared. Rumlow and I head over together to check out our quarters. It's a huge room, ten times the size of the room we'd shared back at the old base, not that that was saying much. Instead of a Queen sized bed, we have a King. The floors are dark hardwood, the walls are painted burgundy. The bed is black, black sheets, black comforter, black pillows. The bathroom is medical. White, with chrome accents and fixtures, yet it is oddly soothing. There are two desks equipped with computers, a speaker system installed in the ceiling. I turn to Rumlow, who is looking around, seemingly satisfied. He looks at me, and we work quickly to stow our gear.
 Up the elevator takes us to a comfortable lounge with a huge window overlooking the Blue Ridge mountains. In front of the windows is a large empty space with an H painted on the floor. The floors are concrete, but covered with carpets, and a large black leather couch sits directly at the center of the room. It's arranged in a 'C' shape, so we could all sit and be looking at each other, and on the wall is a huge TV. There is a bar and a kitchen, fully stocked to my surprise. The facility still smells new, like drying paint and clean carpets. I'm looking forward to breaking it in. The rest of the group files in, the bay windows open and a Helicopter maneuvers its way in through the window to land on the H. It powers down, and the side door open to reveal Alexander Pierce.
 "I trust my Team is comfortable." He says, arms open to gesture to the enormity of the facility. He looks to me. "You can all thank your fearless leader, Sergeant Major Calhoun, for this lovely base of operations. Calhoun, have you reviewed the mission files?"
 "The ones the team will be accepting are sitting in a folder on your new desk, I assured their delivery this morning." I tell him. He nods.
 "Very good. Alright team, explore, have a celebration. You are free for the next three days while I prep your care packages and clear the missions. Learn the tricks of this place and break in the new toys, and get some rest. You will be needing it." Pierce makes his way to the elevator, swipes a card from his jacket pocket, and disappears to his office.
 "I had them deliver twenty cases of beer." I inform them, "All of it is in the cooler behind the bar. Who wants to be barkeep?" James raises his hand, cracking his knuckles.
 "Damn skippy," says Brian, "Nobody can mix a drink like baby Braddock."
 "Fuck you!" James snaps, hopping over the bar. "Well!? You heard Pierce. We have three days off. That means two days to get as fucked up as we can, and one to get over our hangovers." He ducks down, lining up nine bottles of beer. He grabs two, and simultaneously pops the caps off by striking the edge of the bar with the caps, sending them flying. The beer fizzes out of the top of the bottle, and he slides them down the bar to the waiting hands of our resident Mercenaries. He continues down the line, opening two at a time until three bottles remain. Me, Rumlow and James don't have beers yet, so he takes the three remaining bottles, two in one hand, one in the other, and does his cap trick, managing to catch the tops on both bottles. The men cheer, and a beer is tossed to me. Rumlow grabs his from the counter and I hold up my bottle before taking a sip.
 "To the Skeleton Crew." I announce loudly, starting a cheers. "May we forever be a pain in the ass to SHIELD. Ooh rah!"
 "Ooh rah!!!" The men say together. We clink bottles together for a long moment, and we all take long gulps of the beer. Pierce ordered us Stella Artois, one of my favorite beers, so it goes down real nice. I haven't had a drink in a long time, so the change is nice. It soon becomes apparent that this is a drinking contest however, so I make a point to gulp down my beer as quickly as I can, slamming my bottle down on the bar and wiping froth from my lips.
 "Men," I say, watching each man finish his drink before looking at me. "This team will be my honor to lead. I look forward to serving with each and every one of you." I look to James and smirk evilly, "Now get these men another beer!" I jab, smiling brightly now. The men eagerly take another beer from James, who dispenses another one to himself.

 The night goes on. We've emptied more of those beer cases than I'd care to say. Brock, Clay and I are the only ones still sober. Clay and I both had Super Soldier Serum running through us burning off the alcohol, and Rumlow just had high tolerance. We watch, bemused, as Lester stands up, looking at Batroc.
 "I'm telling you-," He laughs, red-faced, "So I'm working this job right. Undercover. This woman starts coming on to me, she's fuckin' drunk as shit right so I let her down easy... she... I'm careful man, I'm a freakin' Ninja on the job. But this drunk ass woman fuckin' tails me, until she's in my room!" He busts out laughing, and Batroc sips his beer, snorting the frothy liquid out his nose with his laughing. Rollins slaps his knee with laughter and Brian sits off, perched on the top of the couch, not sitting. I notice now that he's not drunk either, and he's got beer bottles all around his feet and on the couch.
 "He's an English Catholic." Clay whispers in my ear, "The only people who can out-drink him are the Irish Catholics." Rumlow and I chuckle at this, and Rumlow looks down at me, sipping his beer. I watch as he swallows, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his throat. I swallow too, not to down the beer, but to keep myself from drooling. Rumlow pulls my lips to his.
 "Wanna slip off, babe?" He asks me quietly. I feel a little bold, so I straddle him, earning hoots from the team, and kiss him, running my fingers through his hair.
 "Damn, that's what Diana forgot to order! Girls!" Batroc laughs. I roll my eyes.
 "Maybe Rumlow will share." Rollins teases, earning a murderous look from Rumlow, who pulls me flush against his chest, stands up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carries me to the elevator. When the doors open, he waists no time stepping in and slamming his hand against the button for our floor. He pushes me against the wall, lips dominating mine, hungry. He slides his hand up under my shirt and I will the elevator to go faster. When he parts from the kiss, there is a string of saliva connecting us. He leans in again, this time attacking my neck with his kisses.
 "Are you sober, Rum?" I ask. He nods, smirking at me as he continues to kiss me. My cheeks are flush, and my hands grip Rumlow's shoulders tightly. I can feel how excited he is through his fatigues.
 "I am," He replies, "I only had four or five." He moves me away from the wall, only to ram me back against it with his hips. "I love you, babe."
 "Just wanted to make sure. Drunk sex isn't fun sex. You won't remember it." I tease. He chuckles.
 "Babe, I will always remember sex with you." He turns as the doors open to our floor, setting me down so we can make our way to the room we're going to be sharing. He catches me at the door, hands going to my waist so he can push me against it, his lips crashing down on mine forcefully. He groans slightly, groping my breast with his left hand while his right opens the door. It swings in and we stumble into the room, just barely closing the door before the clothes start coming off.

 Rumlow's arms are around my waist and his face is buried in my hair. He holds me tightly, his eyes are open, bright hazel meeting my gaze as I slowly come to my senses.
 "Morning you." I say, voice still rough from sleep. He sighs, nuzzling me more.
 "Morning." He says, sliding over so he's straddling me. I wrap my legs around his hips. He dips his face down to mine to capture my lips, and I reach up to touch his cheek. The skin feels ridged under my hands, and I run my hand down his cheek to rest it on the back of his neck. "How'd you sleep?"
 "Like I'd been fucked into a coma." I tease, recalling the events of last night. "I'm pretty sure carrying a girl off to bed and then making love to her for three hours straight counts as heavy activity." I tease.
 "I'm obviously up for it." He teases, kissing my nose. "Was it three hours?"
 "Maybe. Maybe not. Felt like forever to me." I reply, letting my hand slide down his back so I can grab his ass. He really does have a nice firm butt. He slaps my hand away, moving his arms so they no longer support him, and all his weight is on me. I love the feel of him on top of me.
 "Well," He says, "Should we go make a damage report? Or should we just fire up the blender and see who tries to kill us first?"
 "I can do one better." I tell him, standing up. I slide in to some clothes, one of Rumlow's shirts and a pair of my work out shorts. He slips on some long pajama pants, but nothing else, and follows me. I look in my closet and smirk as I produce something from one of my bags. It's a brass bugle.
 "Why do you have that thing?" He asks. I bring it close to my lips, but I don't play yet.
 "Let's just say, I've done this before, and you better be filming when Clay and James get up, because it is the funniest fucking thing you've ever seen." I run out of the room, hopping in the elevator. When we get down to the lounge area, I take a sweep of the room. Rollins is face down in the sink, Batroc and Lester hug each other on the couch. Brian is nowhere to be seen, so I'm assuming he got bored with the drunken shenanegans and went to bed. James is laying with his head on the floor and the rest of his body on a couch, and Clay is inexplicably curled up on the floor with most of his clothes off. Pierce is in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to get around Rollins to use the sink and I make eye contact, holding up the bugle. I think he knows what I'm about to do, so he backs out of the kitchen, finding a good place to watch from. Rumlow sits on the couch beside the cuddling mercenaries, and gives me a thumbs up. I raise the bugle to my lips and, very loudly I begin to play the wake up call. I puff on the bugle, getting the small brass instrument to belt out "Reveille" as loud as it can.

There is an explosion of men. I watch for James and Clay. James is first up, his spine snapping to attention, a look of wild fright on his face. Clay trips on his own feet, falling down again before he locates his pants. He pulls them on as fast as he can, jumping on one foot to get them up, and then salutes, a dumb expression on his face. Rollins falls off the counter onto the floor, where he stays prone, groaning about his head. And perhaps the funniest reaction. Batroc and Lester wake up, notice their situation, and seperate as quickly as they can, scrambling to untangle themselves. I can't do it anymore. I pull the bugle from my lips and double over laughing. Rumlow is loosing it, his head is thrown back in laughter, his hand on his chest.
 "What the-?" Clay blinks, the dumb expression still on his face, before he processes what I did, and starts to laugh too. Then he touches his forehead. "Ooh... headache. Bad idea. No laughing." He kneels down, then presses his forehead against the cool concrete floor and sighs happily. "Aah.. floor. You're my only friend." Meanwhile, Pierce is laughing too, a shock to me. I didn't think the man had a sense of humor.
 "Good job, Sergeant Major. Way to wake the troops!" He chides, poking Rollins in the back. Rollins looks up, not registering who he sees, and shooes him away, head flopping back to the floor.
 "We had a bit of fun last night. I had to come make a damage report. I'd say everything's okay." I incline my head to Pierce, who nods, stepping over Rollins to fill a glass of water in the sink, and he heads back up to his quarters.
 "Good show, Calhoun." Calls Brian. He's now leaning in the hallway that would take you towards the elevators, and he's smirking. "Have a flashback then, little cousins?"
 "She used to do that. Every fuckin' time we had a party back with the old Platoon." Clay groans, forehead still resting on the floor. "We expected it, but we all got slammed anyways."
 "How'd you get drunk, Clay?" I ask, "I thought-,"
 "I didn't get fully exposed to the serum." Clay groans, "Obviously..." He gets up long enough to go to the elevator, and he's soon followed by the rest of the men. I don't think we'll be seeing them for a few hours. Brian takes a seat in the kitchen at the bar.
 "So Brit Braddock," I address Brian, heading over to him with some of the bottles from the living room. I toss them in the garbage before opening the refrigerator. "I need to know what your powers are." I tell him, "So I know where best to put you when push comes to shove on the missions."
 "I'm going to be honest with you," He says, "I'm the most powerful person on this team, but I'm helping because my cousins are helping you." He looks at me, searching for doubt. Braddock grey eyes narrow, "I have superhuman strength and reflexes, I can fly, and telepathic powers have little effect on me."
 "How are you compared to Spangles?" I ask, sounding  bored as possible.
 "I'd say that I'm... faster, smarter, stronger, more durable, but... He's a better tactician and he's got more fighting skill. I'd never met him before we fought briefly on that rooftop, but I'm beginning to think he's going to figure me out." I nod, looking over to him.
 "He and I used to spar." I tell him, "He's figured me out pretty well. I've got his number though, he has certain patterns to his fighting. No matter though. We're handling SHIELD compounds and intel requisition. Captain America falls outside our realm of action." Braddock nods, looking over my face again, which I keep as neutral as possible. I wait for him to break eye contact. Turning away would tell him too much. He nods, dropping his gaze, and then looks to Rumlow.
 "So you two slipped off a little before I did," He smirks. "Have fun, you two?" Rumlow places a hand on Braddock's shoulder.
 "Remind me to kill Rollins." Says Rumlow, removing his hand from Brian's shoulder, "I think you know what comment I'm referring to."
 "Oh yeah, I do." He replies, "But you had fun?"
 "I'd be lying if I said no." Rumlow replies. I smacked him on the shoulder, but he grabs my hand, pulling me in to him and wrapping his arms around my body. His lips find the hollow between my neck and collarbone, and he places a gentle kiss there.
 "Fuck you." I mumble, pulling away. He looks down, chuckling, a grin on his face.
 "You did that last night." He teased. Brian is looking around the kitchen, getting the lay of the land. I move away from Rumlow and hop up to sit on the counter.
 "What do you want for breakfast, jack ass?" I ask.
 "What've we got?"

 We settle on eggs. A lot of eggs. Because we knew there would be hung-over soldiers filing down to the kitchen later. I scramble a full three dozen eggs, make toast, coffee and dish out Tylenol like it's my job. I have plates ready for everyone and I get on the comms to call everyone out. They file down from the elevator like zombies, heads hung, eyes open just enough to see out of, groaning and complaining about their headaches. They try not to fall in to their breakfast as they eat, but once the food is gone, the mood has lifted considerably. Everyone is a little more alert once they have coffee and Tylenol in them, and laughing starts up soon after as stories start flying.
 "So who wants to watch the surveillance tapes from last night?" I ask, smirking. Batroc and Lester don't look at each other. I think they're worried about what the tapes are going to show us, but the rest of the Crew files in to the living space, settling in front of the large TV. I head to the room where our security system is linked, and send the files from last night to the TV. I skip through the boring stuff, the actual process of getting drunk, watch Rumlow whisking me out of the room, and then we get to the good stuff.

 "I just don't understand why it doesn't love me." Says Batroc, holding a pillow like it's a baby. "I love it." With a look of compassion on his face, James leans over and puts a hand on his shoulder.
 "It's okay, Greg." He slurs, "It doesn't know what it's missing."
 "Who the fuck is Greg?" Lester asks. He's face down on the couch, and he's got a beer in one hand. He rolls over, opens his mouth, and dumps some beer in his mouth before swallowing it and sitting up.
 "I thought that was..." James points at Batroc.
 "I'm... no. This is Greg." He points at the pillow. I'm holding in my laughter as best I can. I settle in to Rumlow's side more. I skip forward to Batroc stabbing the pillow and throwing it into the trash compactor.
 "Bye bye Greg." I chide. Batroc covers his face with one hand. Now on screen, Brian is leaving. Giggling like idiots are Clay and James, who are red-faced and patting each other on the back. Lester throws a pillow at them and then just laugh harder. Lester sits up and trips on his own feet, falling face first on the floor. When he regains his feet, he's missing a boot. He sits on the floor, cross-legged, and tries to put his boot back on, but he can't seem to figure it out. We keep forwarding through the vids until we reach the pivotal moment. Lester and Batroc. Lester collapses on the couch on top of Batroc, who is already nearly out.
 "You're my only friend, Greg." Lester mumbles.
 "I killed Greg..." Batroc whispers sadly, "I killed him." Lester pats Batroc on the head, awkwardly wrapping his arms around Batroc's head and kissing the top of it.
 "You didn't mean it, Greg." Lester whispers, patting him again. Batroc returns the hug.
 "Yes I did. I yelled 'I hate you Greg!' And then threw him in the trash compactor. I killed him and I meant it."
 "Shhhh... go to sleep little baby. It's okay. Greg will come back." Lester goaded. And then they fell on the couch, passed out from drunkeness.

 "And that, my fine fellows," I laugh, sides aching from it, "Is something those two will never live down."
Semper Fi Ch. 24 (Captain America: TWS)
More team building, too much drinking, and some comedy because the last chapters were a little heavier. :) Rumlow's healing, but he's still not super confident in himself, the team is coming together and Pierce is enjoying the Shenanigans. How long will it last though? What will the first Mission with the Crew bring to light? And what's the end game for HYDRA?

Hello my lovelies. :) I just wanted to bring you up to speed on my plans for my Fanfictions, and my art as well.

Semper Fi is closer to being finished than I'd like to admit. It's my pride and joy and I hope you guys like how I wrap it up. It'll be finished with around 30-35 chapters, depending on how I decide to split up my chapters, and I have a feeling some of you won't like the ending.

I will be sitting down with Trick Trick and finishing that one as well. It might only be 20 or 25 Chapters, because it's not as complicated. Or maybe it will be. I don't know yet. I have a general idea where it's going but no real solid writing down.

Appearance of Death I will try to really start after I finish Trick Trick. These things take time. It's Marvel fanfics so they will all be connected in some way. ;)

 On another hand, I just finished watching "The Gates" and I really want to write something about it. I think I'll do a Reader x Nick Monohan one shot. It'd be an AU just because cannonically, Chief Monohan is married. No cheating, maybe death. Who knows? I don't really know what's going to happen yet, or even if I'll write it.

As for art, I've been working on a few things, mostly a request for :icon2ndmercwithamouth: and it's coming along. I still have to finish it. It's a lot of chaos right now, lines everywhere, needs cleanup, but the bones are there, and I'm proud of it.

That's it XD
  • Mood: Happy
  • Listening to: nothing
  • Reading: othello
 Rumlow went in for grafts and emergency surgery a few hours ago. I hadn't even changed into my civvies yet, but Rumlow was my concern. I paced the hospital floor, place my hands behind my back, and wait for news.
 "Ma'm..." A doctor comes out of the ER, soot on his gloves, and a tired look in his eyes, "I'm Dr. List. Brock is your...?"
 "Boyfriend." I state, eyes meeting List's. "What's the news?" I demand, voice now hard with the authoritative tone I used with the men.
 "He's going to live. The burns were... severe. He'll likely have scars for the rest of his life." explains List, "Physically, there  was little wrong with him. We had a hard time finding bruises under the burns, but there was minor bruising on his back from being thrown into something." He runs his hands through his hair, "He also had smoke in his system, which will be fine after a few hours... he'll want to see you. He'll wake up in a little bit."
 "Is he going to need therapy?" I ask quietly, pulling the Doctor aside. I'd worked with Bucky to get him through trauma, accepting that he no longer had his "normal" arm, and he had a prosthetic. And I'd also specialized in the brainwashing sector of the Marines Special Ops, so I knew a little about physical psychology, and how mutilation could twist a person's self-image. The Doctor just frowns, looking at me.
 "Brock Rumlow..." He says slowly, "I've not worked with him, but his file states that he's..."
 "Be medical, Doc. I might be a dumb Marine, but I passed my ASVAB with flying colors." I joke, trying to make the air lighter so he can speak freely. If it's bad, I need to know.
 "He's not self-centered. The very fact that he works well in a unit tells us that. But he's a proud man. And he likely won't take well to his burns." He explains, "You'll have to work on him on that. I have the feeling you two are very close. How long have you been together?"
 "Not long." I admit, "But serving together tends to make you get close fast." List nods again.
 "He's asleep in his room by now. It's just down the hall there. You can go see him, if you want." I thank the doctor for his help, and make my way to Rumlow's room. As I get to the door, Rollins and Lester meet me. Lester hands me a bundle of clothes, and Rollins hands me a tray of food from the cafeteria. I try to refuse the food, but Rollins insists that I need to eat, so I relent.
 "Thank you, you two." I say, placing a free hand on Rollins' shoulder. He shrugs.
 "You look out for Rumlow, and I respect that. He and I have been working together a long time, and he's a friend. It was good to see him happy."
 "He was always kind to me." I reply honestly, looking at the bed, where a blanket is pulled up to Rumlow's waist, His arms and face are covered in white gauze. "And with the Operation Crossbones file drama, and my betrayal of SHIELD... he was with me through that." I smile, moving in to the room. "You two are welcome to stay if you want." I add, but I don't really want them to stay. Lester shakes his head and Rollins backs away.
 "He'll want to see you first." Rollins states, "We'll come see him later." He and Lester make their way out of the hall and leave. I'm alone with my thoughts until Rumlow wakes up, which could be in a minute, or in a few hours. I grabbed the clothes they'd brought me and change quickly, glad for the fresh clothes. They'd gotten me my white tank and olive pants, which fit like my fatigues, and I laced on my boots from my Uniform with them. My tags still hung between my breasts, and my hair was still loose. I pull it back into a low ponytail, and plop down in one of the hard Hospital chairs across from Rumlow's bed. I watch the rise and fall of his chest, the only movement he makes for a long while.
 "Rum," I whisper to him, "You have to get up. I can't lead this crew without knowing you're there in the field with me." I smile, folding my uniform neatly as I speak, "I know... I said once that I'd never be with someone I worked closely with. But you make me... want to try harder to complete the mission, and keep everyone safe. Because I know that if I don't do my job, you can't do yours. And this is my fault. I should never have sent you with Brian. I didn't know him, I didn't know what he could handle... from now on, you're on my six. From now, till the day they shoot me dead. And even then." I sigh, tears trying to flood in to my voice and I swipe at my still-dry eyes.
 "You know I can't say no to you." He says huskily from the bed. My head shoots up automatically at the sound of his voice, tired, dry with smoke.
 "Brock." I say, smiling at him, moving over to the bed.
 "What happened?" He asks, "I just remember that damn Hawkeye shooting an arrow at me."
 "It was explosive. The blast knocked you out, and you've got some serious burns." I explain gently, "The doctors applied grafts, but you'll never look like you used to." I brush my hand over his chest. The skin was scorched there, but not totally burned. His shirt and vest had saved that part of his body. His arms hadn't been spared, they are wrapped up. I can't see his face due to the bandages, and I didn't dare remove them. He reaches up and places a hand on my cheek, but I can't feel his warmth through the gauze.
 "I'm sorry." He says.
 "You're sorry." I snort, "I get your ass blown up and you're the sorry one." I try not to laugh.
 "It wasn't your fault. It was the Hawk. You couldn't have stopped an explosion even if you'd been there." He says, tired, but assertive. I nod, casting my eyes downward. He pulls me down so that I'm laying with him in the bed.
 "I'm still sorry." I mumble, nestling my face in his chest. He smells like smoke still, but there is the faint smell of gunmetal and his body wash lingering, enough to let me know it's truly Rumlow.
 "I'm pretty sure we're breaking all the rules by doing this." Rumlow joked, "I love you, Diana."
 "I love-,"
 "Diana," Clay pokes his head in, looking for me, and finding me on the bed with Rumlow, "Sorry... Diana, Schmidt's calling a meeting. He didn't sound happy."
 "Shit. Alright. I'll be back before morning, Brock." I say, kissing my hand and placing it gently on his lips. Rumlow grunts, looking at Clay.
 "Take care of her." He orders. Clay salutes sharply, spine straightened faster than he had when our old Drill Sergeant would yell at us. I gesture for Clay to follow me, and we make our way out of the Hospital. My gun holster is cool against my hip, the pistol in it loaded, ready for anything. Except what I see when I pass through the front doors of the Hospital. I try to back track, try to look like I was heading somewhere else, because drawing attention to the man standing in front of the building wouldn't end well for either of us. His long hair is tied back in a ponytail now, his beard he's trimmed so he's baby-faced. His lips hold a deep frown and his blue eyes are full of sadness, like the sea after a shipwreck. He holds my green-eyed-glare. His clothes are strategically placed to cover his metal arm, both hands shoved deep in his jean pockets, a hoodie on despite the warm weather, and a ball cap that he peeks out from under. I keep walking, breaking eye contact and pretending I haven't seen him. It's the best thing I can do for him. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk past him and get in to an SUV.

 I glare out the window as Clay drives me to the new Base of Operations. I'd watched Bucky get smaller and smaller behind the SUV, cursing myself for making him look so sad. I look over to Clay.
 "What's our status?" I ask, "The Attack clearly took us by surprise,"
 "Well, it would have been worse if you hadn't put the Crew in to action." Clay says, "We cleared all the floors, minimizing casualties. We only lost one scientist, who was just a peon, and a few of the early response men who rushed in without orders. It was a victory, at the end of the day. All the stuff is cleared, and SHIELD didn't even steal anything. I think the Captain just wanted to talk to you."
 "There were SHIELD operatives in the building." I correct him, "And they killed people."
 "I know," Says Clay, "But the truth is, if they'd wanted to, they could have taken us out. The question is, why didn't they?"
 "I tend not to ask questions when SHIELD or HYDRA are involved. Less chaos that way." I shrug, "I like to say that both of them are equally crazy." Clay nods in agreement and turns off onto a side road. He turns again and then parks.
 "Reckon Schmidt's gonna can me?" I ask. Clay laughs, deep from his belly, and leads me in to the building.
 "He might, if he could replace you. I'd get out if he was planning to fire you. And James and Brian would follow. Rollins and Rumlow are with you, and Lester seems to take your order well. Batroc would go with Lester, and then, he'd have nothing but some low-level SWAT forces, and Marie Siegfried."
 "She might be in her depth if she led a SWAT unit." I chide. We take an elevator to the top floor of the building, where Alexander Pierce, and Schmidt are waiting for us. Marie stands in the corner, hands crossed across her chest.
 "Clay, please show yourself out." Says Pierce. I shake my head, gesturing for him to stay.
 "You can say to me in front of my men what you would say behind closed doors." I protest. Pierce nods, and continues.
"We wish to congratulate you on your first operation with the Skeleton Crew." He states, "You saved HYDRA a lot of trouble. The only thing I might ask is why you didn't kill the Captain?"
 "I was going to." I lie, straightening, "But I got hit by a concussive round."
 "And what of the others?" Schmidt demands.
 "Rollins was watching my six but he couldn't have seen a sniper. Clay and James were keeping their eyes on Hawkeye, and Rumlow was down. Lester was up top but he was focused on the Captain in case I missed."
 "And why didn't you have Marie with you?" Schmidt asks.
 "I sent Delta to find her, the rest of us went on to limit casualties and handle the situation on the roof."
 "I'm not questioning your motives, Miss-," I give Pierce the Evil Eye, "Sergeant Major, I am getting your mission statement."
 "Of course, sir."
 "I question," Schmidt says, "because your team has already ostracized my favorite agent."
 "I warned you sir, she is a Nazi. My men follow me because they're loyal to me, not because they want to work for the Red Skull. She is no different, except this time, she has a gun and she's watching their backs. I don't know a Marine alive who would do that." I glare at Marie standing in her corner as I speak, "She's out of her depth on the Crew."
 "Out of her depth?" Asks Schmidt.
 "Yes sir. We were sparring only yesterday and I took her down without putting any effort in to it. Rumlow and Rollins could have easily put her down. Lester is a ranged fighter and Batroc is a master of many forms of martial arts."
 "And what of the Braddock brothers?" Schmidt asks, looking at Clay, "Are they too, out of their depth?"
 "No." I say coldly, glaring at the man sitting at his desk, "They are elite Special Operations Marines. Clay once out-ranked me, and James was earning his way through the ranks before we all got out."
 "But could they beat her in a fight?" Asks Schmidt.
 "As it would seem, yes." I admit, "If you mean to make them fight, I suggest tomorrow, once they've had an opportunity to rest. Rumlow gave us all a scare."
 "He's being attended to?" Pierce asks. I nod, turning my gaze to him.
 "He is. I would have a word with you privately, Mr. Secretary." I inform him. He nods, gesturing for us to separate off into a meeting room. Once inside, he relaxes a bit and takes a seat. I do too.
 "What did you want to discuss?" Pierce asks.
 "I wanted to give you some terms of service, so neither of us has a misunderstanding when the orders come." I say. Pierce raises an eyebrow but he nods.
 "What are the terms?"
 "I want five things." I say, "First, is I want Marie off the Crew."
 "I don't think that's in my power to give you." Pierce admits. "I turned you, Rumlow and Rollins over to Schmidt. He's your handler."
 "I'm telling you though, he's letting his dick decide, pardon my French. He has a thing for Siegfried and it's clouding his judgment. Look at the surveillance footage from the day Marie and I sparred, you'll see she's not fit to serve with the Crew. I outmatch her in every field."
 "She's a spy, not a soldier." Says Pierce evenly, but I shake my head.
 "I have Rollins for that. And Batroc, and Lester." I argue, "Second," I add, before Pierce can counter, "I want nothing to do with a mission to kill Steven Grant Rogers, or James Buchanan Barnes."
 "I imagine this is personal?" Asks Pierce. I nod.
 "Yes sir."
 "You seemed like you were willing to kill him on the roof of the old building." Pierce states. I shake my head.
 "I couldn't have." I reply honestly, "It's a fault, I admit, but I worked too closely with him to be able to kill him. If he'd attacked first, I could, but he won't."
 "How can you be sure?" Pierce questions, "You betrayed his cause. What's the say he won't see you as a traitor?"
 "He won't." I assure Pierce, "Because if he'd wanted me dead, he could have called in his Sniper, or killed me himself, or had Hawkeye mow me down with the Quinjet's minigun. But he didn't." I rationalize, looking down slightly. Pierce nods.
 "What are your other requests?"
 "I want to review all missions before we get them."
 "Fair." Pierce nods.
 "I want the Crew moved off property from HYDRA."
 "Why is that?"
 "The attack. We should be monitoring from an outside source so HYDRA has a go-between from one base to another." I reply, tapping my finger four times on the table.
 "And the last request?"
 "I want you to be our handler." I say seriously, "This might be the biggest thing. Schmidt's not making decisions based on statistics or even on logic. He's wrapped around Marie's little finger, and he'll do what she asks."
 "I agree." Pierce says, "He was talking to me about making Marie an officer. He said he'd like someone loyal to him to be calling shots on the missions. I told him he'd be crazy to replace you or Rumlow as his Major and Captain, because frankly, you two are the best tacticians we've got." He rises, "Marie off the Crew. No missions involving Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes. Review Missions. Separate Skeleton Crew facility. And me as your handler." I nod, he's got it all, and he nods in return.
 "I only request these things for the future success of the team." I say. Pierce nods.
 "I'd work through you more often, Miss-," I clear my throat, "Sergeant Major Calhoun." He quickly corrects himself. I wonder how long it will take me to break his 'miss' habit. "I'll have a meeting with Schmidt and see if I can get him to agree to those requests. Until then, I think you'll be needed in the Med wing." I thank him, and salute. "Dismissed, Sergeant Major." I turn sharply on my heel, and head for the door. When I open it, Schmidt is sitting at his desk, and Marie is on it, legs tucked up on top of the desk and her one arm holding her up, her other reaching for Schmidt's face. I turn away and leave the office. For now, until I know what Pierce could get Schmidt to agree to, I head down to the garage and head back Medical facility, and find Rollins sitting with Rumlow. Whatever conversation they'd been having halts and Rollins bolts upright, salutes me, and leaves. I look to Rumlow, who has his bandages off now. His face is disfigured, I can still see Rumlow under there, but it looks like a really good special effects artist went crazy on his face. He's been badly burned on his neck and arms as well. I look him over, trying to imagine what he'll look like once he's all the way healed.
 "Hey baby." He says lovingly, holding a hand out to me. "Shoulda seen Rollins's face when he saw me." Rumlow chuckles, "He nearly fell down."
 "I'm sorry I missed it." I tease, sitting beside his bed. He takes my hand and grips it.
 "Babe," He says, "I love you, you know that right?" I'm worried now. I nod my yes, holding his hand tighter, "If you want to leave me, you can. I know you talked to List, and he said I'd be disfigured for-,"
 "Did you seriously just tell me to break it off with you because you've been injured?" I demand. Rumlow recoils, obviously not the answer he thought he'd get. "Please! I'm gonna be here every day, and then I'm taking you to our quarters and we're gonna fuck until neither of us can move." I assure him, kissing his palm. He smiles.
 "Well I'm glad you feel that way." Rumlow says happily. I can't tell what he's doing with his face under the bandages, but I can hear in his voice that he's not one hundred percent sure.
 "Rumlow, I think scars are hot." I assure him, "And you're going to have some." He chuckles lightly, and I look to the hallway. A Nurse catches my glance and comes in.
 "Is something wrong?" She asks. I shake my head.
 "I just had a question. Is it possible that I could take over his care so he could be back in his own room?" I ask, "I was asked to do Medical Corps work through the Army when I was active duty, so I'm qualified to nurse him, I'm sure. What's his care looking like?"
 "We're changing the bandages every six hours, applying a low-dose hydrocortisone cream every six hours." The nurse says, "I think you could do that. I'll have a word with Dr. List."

 Rumlow and I are in a helicopter less than an hour later. I'd been given a bag full of everything I would need to care for him, as well as a note saying that Dr. List would be moving to the main HYDRA facility to check in on Rumlow, as well as to oversee a project HYDRA was running. I'm glad to hear this. It put my mind at ease to think I'd have someone to overlook my work. I was Army Medical Corps trained, but I hadn't had to use those skills for a while. Rumlow watches me as I take my seat in the helicopter, reaching his hand out. Speaking for long periods of time was tiring on his healing body, and it likely hurt him. I'd seen his burns when he was down on that rooftop, but he'd been so covered in soot, I couldn't see him really. I had no idea exactly how bad he was, which scared me. I took his hand, gently stroking the top of his knuckles. I love him. I love him, and it hurt like hell to see him like this. The helicopter takes off, the whir of the rotors calming me, it's a familiar sound that brings back memories of sitting in the Chinook with my platoon as it flew over Afghanistan, moving us to our next hit. We usually moved in squads of thirty for missions, so we had room to move in the craft. I remember passing stories to ease tension, passing a beer afterwards when we'd succeeded in our mission, and passing tears over a fallen comrade. Rumlow's hand squeezes mine, bringing me back, and I look over at him, smiling sadly.
 "What's wrong?"
 "Nothing," I say, sighing, "Just memories. From the Marines." His hand moves up my arm to brush my USMC tattoo that sits proudly on my bicep.
 "You should get something else... to remember the fallen."
 "Get some rest, Brock." I urge, "You'll need it."
 "What for?" He protests, still holding my hand.
 "More rest, more healing." I tease, releasing his hand and smiling, "We'll be at HYDRA in a bit. I probably have a meeting with Pierce too. So I'll change your bandages after, okay?"
 "Promise?" He asks flirtatiously, grinning. I nod, kissing his bandaged forehead. I lean back to rest my head on the wall of the helicopter, loosing myself to my memories until we touch down.

 I'd been so prepared to loose her. I'd been ready for her to see me in the hospital and leave me, but when I woke to her pleading voice, saw the worry etched on her face, I think I knew, it was going to be okay. Still, I'd wanted to be sure. She looses herself in her thoughts on the short ride to the new HYDRA facility and I watch her face. She's happy, sad, then happy again, and she can only be thinking about her old Platoon. I watch her face, her gorgeous eyes bright with tears that she holds back. The green of them shifts, light with happiness, dark with grief. She looks to me when the Helicopter touches down and smiles slightly, reaching over to me.
 "We can take off the bandages on your face now. Doc only put them on for transport."She says, "I'll take them off when we get you to our room." I smile, though she can't see it. I'm so full of painkillers right now that I don't really hurt. Diana pushes my chair herself, wheeling me for the room we'd been issued. It's an exact copy of our old room, but a little bigger, and I notice, a little bit removed from the doors other agents were coming in and out of. I smile to think they'd moved us because of our... exuberance. Diana looks to me, a softness in her eyes I'd never seen before, and she helps me out of my chair and into our bed. She helps me maneuver the covers and then sits me up so she can remove the bandages around my face. She's gentle, making sure nothing pulls as she unwinds the bandages. Once they are gone, and I can see her better, and she me, I look to her.
"Is it bad?" I ask. She shakes her head.
"Rumlow, no." She whispers. "No. It's not." She looks like she wants to kiss me, but she also doesn't want to hurt me. Doc List said I had to keep my arms as still as possible. Bad as my face was, my arms bore the brunt of the burns. Diana unwraps my arms and grabs the medical supplies the facility supplied her with, and, with hands just as skilled as the Doctors that cleaned my burns, she applies the cream, re-wraps my arms, and tosses the old bandages. She's silent through all of this, eyes downcast with concentration, and I lean forward to gently brush my lips against hers. She pauses, eyes closed as if savoring the kiss, and smiles.
 "How long did the Doc say I'd be laid up?" I ask.
 "He says you can resume light activity in a week." She replies, "He also said something about 'Sex counting as a strenuous activity' so unfortunately for both of us, it's off the table for at least a week, if not two." She's back to teasing, which makes me happy. She moves around the room, setting up the supplies so she has easy access, and then notices a message left for her on a datapad. "I've got a meeting with Pierce." She states, turning to me, "Be a good boy until I get back, okay?"
 "Maybe." I reply. She comes over, places a very gentle kiss on the one bit of my face that isn't too badly burned: my forehead, and then departs. I wonder what her meeting is about.


 Diana and I cross paths in the hallway, evidently, we are en route to the same place, so we fall in step together, she walking fast, myself matching her. She looks over, and sighs quietly.
 "Something on your mind?" I ask. She nods.
 "I'm... worried." She replied. "Rumlow."
 "What's going on?"
 "He told me if I wanted to leave him because of his injuries that I could." She says, sadness in her voice. I'm not sure what to make of that. Rumlow loved Diana... maybe he thought seeing his injuries every day would hurt her somehow, maybe he thought she wouldn't find him attractive anymore. But I felt like their relationship was more than physical, it was love. She loved him for him and he loved her for being her. I didn't know all of it, but the way he looked at her, looked at the others around her, made me certain of his affections.
 "He loves you." I offer, "He loves you a lot. And I think you love him."
 "I do." She says, "Which is why I'm worried. I don't think he's going to take the healing well... I have to work on keeping him happy."
 "If anyone can, it's you." I nod. I open the door to the briefing room for her and follow her in. She's still in civvies. I'm in my uniform. I wonder if we're really here for the same reason.
 As it turns out, we weren't. But Schmidt needed to speak with both of us. Diana sits down, legs crossed, arms crossed over her chest.
 "Sergeant Major," Schmidt begins. Diana sits forward, glad to hear her title being used, "Mr. Pierce and I spoke at length about your requests."
 "And?" She goads.
 "I'm willing to negotiate with you on some of them, others, I should like to grant in full, because I see merit in them."
 "Which ones?" She asks. I don't know what she's talking about. What requests had she made? I trusted that they were good requests, but I'm interested to hear about this. She has a look on her face, I can't place the emotion, but it looks like she knows what he's going to say.
 "I'll grant you every request you made. A facility for the Crew, Review your missions, I'll keep you out of any mission to kill the Captain or the Winter Soldier," He pauses, tapping his fist against the desk with each point lightly, "I'll let Pierce be your handler." Diana nods for him to continue, and he stares her down, "But I will not remove Marie from the Crew."
 "Sir, with all due respect-,"
 "I did not give you leave to speak, Sergeant Major." Schmidt cuts her off. "Marie is staying on the Crew because I do not trust that HYDRA's best interests are in yours."
 "Sir," She tells him, "Pull up the footage from my spar with her. She's not good enough-,"
 "Your mission will range past the brute force you so love, Sergeant Major."
 "Then do this. Make her go through the HYDRA training academy, no help from you." She counters, "Let her acclimate to the times and then I'll re-evaluate my stance on her." Schmidt seems to consider before he finally nods.
 "Alright, I can do that." He says, nodding, "You and the Crew will be moving to a new Facility in one week. There will be rooms for all of you, and an apartment for Mr. Pierce. Any more demands?"
 "Sound proof the walls around me and Rumlow's room." She replies, turning and leaving Schmidt's office.


 I have bought us time as a team, which is good and bad. Good because Marie won't be joining the Crew until she's ready. Bad because she will be more prepared to be with us, but we'll have worked together so long that the dynamic will change when she joins. I decide I'll deal with it later. I supposed to meet with Pierce in two days to go over weapons and what we would need on specific missions. I also push this to the back of my mind as I head for my room. Rumlow is up, in the bathroom. I go to him and find him staring in the mirror. I smile sadly, watching him as he slowly processes what's happened. He'll look different. He'll be scarred for the rest of his life. I wrap my arms around his torso and place my forehead against his back.
 "I'm sorry this happened to you." I mumble. He turns, not wrapping his arms around me in return because he can't due to the grafts. He looks down at me.
 "I'll be alright." The lie is obvious. I allow him to fool me though, to make him feel better.
 "Like I told you... you're on my six from now on, and I'm on yours." I say gently, looking up at him. "I won't let you out of my sight."
 "I love you, Diana Calhoun." He whispers, taking a hold of my HYDRA issued Dog Tags. He takes his own, and puts the second tag of his on my chain. I do the same for him, remembering when Bucky and I had swapped tags. It showed that Rumlow was mine and I was his, that we were together, that I held his name over my heart as I held my own identity. I loved him. He smiles, glad I returned the gesture and I kiss his forehead.
 "I love you, Brock Rumlow." I reply. He looks at his name now proudly displayed between my breasts and lets out the smallest of smiles. "Nothing will ever change that."
 "Don't say that." Brock states quietly, "There's always change."
 "I mean it. I love you. A lot of people would say it's too soon, but I do. Seeing you like this... sad... it hurts me, because I want you to be happy."
 "I'm shitty with emotions, Diana." Rumlow admits, heading back into the room, "But..." He smiles at me, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I need you. Here. In my life, on my six. For the rest of my life."
 "Brock..." I say, sitting beside him. I want to kiss him, to pin him down and make love to him, but I don't want to hurt him. He smiles.
 "I was... glad you didn't want to leave me after the accident." He mumbles, looking down.
 "Rum, I'm not with you purely for looks." I touch his leg, "It helped, but I love who you are. You were always kind to me. Always." I kiss his forehead again, stroking his hair gently. The ends have scorched off, so he can't coif his hair like he used to. It's shorter now, and I could trim it into a crew cut if he wanted me to. He sighs happily.
 "You're my nurse now, huh?" Rumlow asks, raising an eyebrow. I smirk and nod.
 "I am." I lay down beside him and let him pull me in to his side. I rest my head on his chest and my arm over his torso, hook my leg over his and lay there, as close as I can get to him, and breathe in his scent. He smells faintly of smoke still, but I don't mind. He's okay. I'm in his arms and he's in my bed and it's all okay now. He kisses the top of my head.
 "And what's treatment looking like?" He asks.
 "One week total bed rest, no strenuous activity. You can eat whatever you want, but you have to take a pain medication with your meals. I have to change your bandages on your arms every six hours and also putting cream on them to help speed healing. After the week, depending on how well you've healed up, we'll see about scaling up activity." He nods, and I roll over to lay beside him, but not touch his arms, because I didn't want to upset the grafts. "I heard that they didn't have to take donor skin from your body." I say, "They've figured out how to grow skin for grafts in the lab from your cells, and they can do it quickly. So it's all you."
 "Good to know they didn't have to take butt skin." Rumlow chides, "It's not fun."
 "So you've had to have grafts before?" I ask. He nods.
 "Oh yeah. And they used to take patches from your ass."
 "Well I can't tell." I tease, winking at him and smiling, my eyelids are getting heavy. Rumlow kisses me.
 "Get some rest," he says, "It's late." I check the time. Rumlow's right. More time had passed than I thought, and it was one in the morning.
 "Do you want out of your clothes?" I ask, swinging my legs over the bed to I can slip out of my boots and pants. Rumlow nods.
 "Shirt and pants off." He nods, looking at me. I nod, looking at the shirt he's wearing. Someone hadn't been thinking and put a pull over shirt on him. I'd have to find him a button down to wear while I had to dress him, because the last thing he needed to do was tear his grafts or rub his burns.
 "I'm cutting that off of you." I tell him, going to see if they'd put my switchblade where it was at the old place. They had, thankfully, and I grab it from its place in the nightstand. Rumlow smirks as I come over to him with the knife, poising it at the top of his collar.
 "I didn't know you were in to this kind of stuff." He teases, and I'm glad to hear he's back to his old teasing self. I smirk back, slicing the shirt away and sliding the scrap of black material out from underneath him. His chest had small cuts across it, nothing life threatening, and he was a little red, like he'd gotten a sunburn. But his abdomen was nearly untouched by burns, protected by his shirt and bulletproof vest. I move down, unlacing his boots, and slide them from his feet. Again, whoever dressed him after his surgery ought to be shot. Who puts a man with second and third degree burns in full clothes. Embarrassing as it would be, put the man in a hospital gown for Christ's sake! I put his boots and socks on the floor at the foot of the bed and help him slide out of his fatigues, leaving him only in his tight fitting boxers. I secretly hoped a male nurse had dressed him, otherwise, I'd have a bitch to kill. She'd have seen, and touched far too much of Rumlow for my liking. I sleep in my white tank top, curling up beside Rumlow for the night. His breathing is shallow, a little too light for my liking, but he's breathing. It must be the smoke he got in his system earlier, making it hard on him. He puts an arm over my waist, pulling me tight against his chest, and I turn to rest my head in the crook of his neck. I love him. And we'll get through his injury together.

 In the morning, I can tell exactly when Rumlow's pain meds are starting to wear off, because he gets fidgety in his sleep. I get up, grab a cup from the bathroom, and a pill from one of the bottles on the nightstand. I wake Rumlow and have him sit up, but I don't give him the pills yet.
 "Babe," I say gently, "Your pain meds are wearing off, but I have to get you something to eat to go with, okay?" I tell him. He nods, and I grab the first thing I see for pants, which are incidentally, Rumlow's pants, and I slide them on and cuff them at the bottom so they don't drag on the floor. They sling low on my hips, showing off my defined hip bones, and my tank top is a little too short without being tucked in, so my stomach shows a little. Rumlow eyes me, smirking all the while, and I slide in to my combat boots, not lacing them.
 "Damn," He says, yawning a bit, "If I get that visual every morning, I'll get myself injured more often."
 "Don't." I tell him as I turn to leave.
I make my kitchen run quick. The mess is serving breakfast burritos, so I fill a tortilla with steak, cheese, egg and bacon, roll it up tight, and give him a side of grits, which I salt and pepper. I slide a glass of orange juice onto the corner of the tray, and grab an apple for myself. Rumlow is still sitting up when I return with his breakfast, and I place the tray on his lap.
 "Looks good." He says. "But you didn't get anything." I swipe the apple from the tray, and place his pills in its place. He rolls his eyes, digging in to his food before taking the meds. "You need to eat."
 "It can wait." I tell him, "The Crew is on light duty until you're better and we've moved to the new Facility." He nods slowly, "I'll have time to get something later. It's six in the morning, and I just got up. I'm barely awake yet." I sit on the desk, one leg swinging down below me, the other hitched up so I can rest my elbow on my knee. I bite in to the apple and monitor Rumlow, making sure he eats and takes his meds. I'll change his bandages after he's eaten.
 "I made some requests with Pierce... and I got all of them except one." I say. "But Schmidt and I reached an agreement on that last one."
 "Which was?"  
 "I asked him to have Marie put through a modern Training. Make sure she's up to snuff on modern day work. It's an agreeable request."
 "I think so. It delays her being on the team." Rumlow observes, "And by then, we'll be a unit."
 "That was my thought." I agree, smiling. Rumlow smirks.
 "You're... diabolical." He teases. He's finished his food, so he swallows his pills with his orange juice, chugging the glass and setting aside the tray. I've finished my apple, so I put the core on the tray and move it to the desk so I can sit with Rumlow.
 "And I also need to change your bandages." I tell him. He groans slightly but I make quick work of getting the bandages on his arms off, and I apply his cream. He groans softly at the relief the cool cream gives him, and I wrap his arms back up. I look over the burns to make sure they're healing, and smile when I see that they've already begun to stop weeping and bleeding.
 "Thanks." He says, "I'm glad I don't have to be at the Hospital for this. It's much nicer to have you as my nurse." I stand up, tossing his used bandages and going to wash my hands. I scrub them well, up to my elbows, and then return to Rumlow's side.
 "I need to go train." I say, "I'll pull some strings at the security room and have the cam footage of the gym rigged to this tv." I point to the small screen across from the bed. Rumlow, nods.
 "You know I'll be checkin' you out, right?" He smirks. I nod. I go to the closet and slip in to my workout shorts, and I take off my shirt, leaving me in my black sports bra. I lace on my trainers, and grab my gym bag.
"Give me a beep if you need anything." I tap my communicator on my ear and he nods. His sits on the nightstand.
 "I will." He says.

 It hadn't been hard to convince the guy from Security to rig the tv in Rumlow and my room. I gave him the excuse that Rumlow wanted to oversee the training of the team. I make my way down to the gym now, and find most of the team already there. Georges and James are sparring in the boxing ring, and I sidle up to watch. I wrap my hands while I stand there, and then slide on my fingerless gloves.
 "Who's willing to put 'em up against me?" I ask, looking around. Rollins steps up, one hand raised. We kick off our shoes and socks and as Batroc puts James on his ass, I jump in to the ring. I offer and hand to James and smile.
 "I had him on the ropes." He tells me. Batroc confirms this.
 "He's good. Better than I thought he'd be." He jumps out of the ring and Rollins and I square off. Rollins has a couple of inches on me. I'm the same height as Rumlow, five foot ten, but he's over six foot, easily.
 He squares his shoulders and makes a dive at my left side. I jump back, spinning in midair to connect my heel with his side, but he grabs my leg, twisting it. I bring my opposite leg up and hook my knee around his neck, holding myself up with my core, bracing against Rollins's body. I twist, setting him off balance, and jump free, landing on my shoulder. I roll away as Rollins brings his foot down to hit me with his heel, and trip him, sending him sprawling. He recovers quickly, and we both regain our feet. He waits for me to strike first, and I oblige, aiming a punch at his face. He moves back slightly, and when he does, I aim my other fist at his chest. I connect with his sternum, knocking the wind out of him, and he falls back, gasping. He shakes off his daze and flips to his feet, only to meet my fist in his face. I pulled my punch though, if we got a mission, he couldn't be seriously injured. His nose is bleeding a little, and now he's thoroughly riled up, so his next attack comes quicker than I anticipated. He gives me a hard right hook to the face, and I stagger back, using the force of his punch to spin my body and bring my knee up to slam into the side of his neck. I grab him with both hands on the shoulders and bring my knee up again into his stomach, once more knocking the air out of him. He coughs, gets his hands on my sides, and he slams me into the mats in the ring. This was the spar I'd wanted when I challenged Marie. The wind leaves my lungs but I force more in in time to move my upper body out of the way of Rollins's elbow, which would have smashed into my face. His elbow hits the floor with a crack, and he grunts slightly. He hadn't pulled his hit. I manage to wrap my legs around his waist and I use them to throw him off of me and to the side, and I end up with one knee firmly planted on his chest, holding his arms down with everything I've got. I see James slamming his hand on the mats.
 "One!" He yells, slamming his hand down, "Two!" Rollins struggles to break free, but it's over. "Three!" Everyone whoops and I jump off of Rollins and help him up. He's sweating and we're both out of breath, but we're able to shake hands and smile and laugh at the end, so I know I haven't hurt his feelings.
 "Good fight." I tell him.
 "Good fight." He repeats. I pull him in, patting him once on the back before jumping out of the ring to watch the next two people spar. It's Lester and Clay this time. I'm curious to see how this will go down.

 Lester faces Clay and the two men circle, sizing the other up. Clay is taller, but I know that Lester will be faster. Clay has build, Lester has reach. It's interesting, for each point in their favor, the other has an opposing and equal strength. Speed to strength, height to reach, weight to agility. And I know that both men are good fighters. At one point, I couldn't beat Clay in a fair fight until we started sparring regularly, and I learned his tricks. Lester, I hadn't seen at all, but his file said he was agile, fast, and a quick thinker. He liked to talk to keep people off their feet. Clay steps in, raising his left knee as if to strike, then switching to kick with his right leg, Karate Kid style. The blow lands squarely on Lester's shoulder, and Lester takes a step back, smirking.
 "Learn that from a Kung Fu movie?" He asks, stepping in quickly and jamming his knee into Clay's stomach. Clay recovers quickly, his weight allowing him to absorb the blow and only feel a bit of it. He moves forward, a move I know to be coming, and my body involuntarily flinches, as if I am Lester and I'm reacting to what is to come. Clay puts his shoulder into Lester's chest, tackling him to the ground and coming up, like I had with Rollins, with his knee planted on Lester's chest. James begins to count, but Lester gets his legs beneath Clay and uses his feet to launch Clay over his head and off of him. Clay rolls, flips to his feet, and comes up, arms in front of his face to deflect a punch that would have knocked him out. He was reading the fight well, learning Lester's tricks. Lester pulls his punch, uppercutting instead with his opposite fist and catching Clay in the chin. Clay's head flies back, and he staggers a step before shaking it off and meeting Lester's eyes. The two go back and forth like this for nearly thirty minutes before I step in.
 "Good job boys." I say, "I call it a draw." Clay and Lester nod, a new kind of respect blooming between them. They were evenly matched, and neither man feels shamed because of it. Lester offers a hand and Clay takes it, shaking his hand. They swap a "Good fight" and head off, Lester to the gun range, Clay to the weights. Batroc is training James, they are standing off to the side, going over fighting form and stance, and Batroc is showing James some new kicks. Brian follows Clay to the weights, and Rollins is grabbing a drink. I go over to him.
 His black hair is slicked with sweat and he wipes his forehead with a towel. I'm no worse for wear, because of my Super Soldier enhancements. I don't fatigue like he does. He offers a smile and moves aside so I can get to the cooler. I grab a water and crack it open, taking a few long sips before speaking.
 "Crew's getting close." I tell him. He nods in agreement.
 "Batroc isn't a bad guy. I think he wants to be here. And Lester... you've got his respect. I can see that plain as day."
 "What about Brit Braddock?" I ask. Rollins glances to the ceiling, then down to me.
 "Brian? He's different. Powerful, I think, but he's not played his hand yet." Now it's my turn to nod my agreement. Rollins crosses his arms, which strains his shirt across his shoulders. His eyes focus on me, but one wanders. I don't want to ask him about it, but he answers anyway. "I was working a job and shrapnel hit my eye socket. I almost lost the eye, but the Doctor's were able to save it. Nerve damage makes it do whatever the fuck it wants." He chuckles. I can see now that he has a thin scar on the left side of his face.
 "That's irresponsible." I tease. He lets out a laugh and then coughs slightly, upholding his 'bad ass' facade.
 "How long is Rumlow laid up?" He asks.
 "Least a week. Maybe two. He's not a happy camper." I reply honestly. Rollins laughs again.
 "Like hell he ain't." He chides, crumpling his water bottle and tossing it into a bin. He stretches and wipes his nose. It's still bleeding a bit.
 "Sorry," I offer, "I didn't mean to-,"
 "Don't even start, Calhoun." He replies lightly, tilting his head back and holding his finger to the underside. "It's all good. I shoulda been paying attention. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
 "Watching the Captain." I reply, "And Barnes. And I did a lot of sparring with Clay back in the day."
 "So it wasn't my imagination." Rollins sounds giddy. "He taught you?"
 "Yeah." I laugh, "It's why I have some of his moves." I say it like a joke, but I mean it. Rollins removes his hand from his nose. He has blood on his hands but he just wipes it on his gym shorts and looks at me again.
 "What's the news with us moving?" He leans against the wall now. "I heard Pierce say we were getting a facility of our own."
 "I spoke with him privately about some issues I had with the current state of the Crew, and what I wanted to do to fix them." I fold my hands behind my back, straightening, "I asked him if we could have our own place, because we can't afford to loose time with attacks on the main bases. We could give people a place to go during an attack, and also dispatch if we had to. I also asked to review our missions before we go, have Pierce as our Handler, and get Marie off the Crew. It's the only thing Schmidt wouldn't give me."
 "Then why isn't she here?" Rollins inquires. I lean on the wall too, looking at him, humor in my eyes.
 "I asked Schmidt to get her trained through Modern HYDRA Agent training, and then see if she's fit for the Crew." Rollins smirks and places a hand on my shoulder.
 "He'll see she's not ready." Rollins says brightly, nearly giddy. I nod.
 "He'll see that she's not even as good as some of the underlings." I respond. Rollins withdraws his hand and glances to the ceiling, laughing.
 "Diabolical." Rollins teases.
 "Second time I've heard that." I reply, laughing with him. "Rollins," I place my hand on his shoulder now, "I think this Crew is going to get on just fine."
Semper Fi Ch. 23 (Captain America: TWS)
A long chapter. I wanted to address where the team stands and show Rumlow learning to cope with his injuries. Team bonding and everything. Enjoy.



queen-of-olympus's Profile Picture
Callistos Lee
Artist | Student | Varied
United States
Hey guys I'm queen-of-olympus!

Check out my YouTube Channel!:…

And Facebook:…

For edits, art/drawing requests:
Art trade: I will draw just about anything, as long as it is not explicit. Depending, I will usually return whatever is given to me with equal effort. So if you give me an inked lineart, I will give you an inked lineart.

Comissions: Always open.
Black and white scanned pencil drawing: 5 points
Inked and scanned drawing: 10 points
Colored, inked and scanned drawing: 15 points
First character is of no charge, each additional character is 1 point.

I <3 RPing! I will RP: Marvel, Assassin's Creed, Mass Effect, The Walking Dead, The Scorpio Races, The Boondock Saints, and Greek Mythology!

Diana Calhoun (Captain America)
Sif Duffy (Thor)
Marie Seigfried (Skeleton Crew)
Callistos Ibn-la'Ahad (Assassin's Creed : Brotherhood)
Achilles (Lee) Ibn-la'Ahad (Assassin's Creed : Brotherhood)
(f) Commander Callistos Shepard (Mass Effect)
(m) Commander Izekial Shepard (Mass Effect)
Ashe Talamo (The Walking Dead)
James Talamo (The Walking Dead)
Meara Walsh (The Scorpio Races)
Ciara Flynn (The Boondock Saints)
Ares: God of War (Greek Mythology)
Siffron "Sif" Duffy (Thor/Avengers/Dark World/Marvel)
Sergeant Major Diana Calhoun (Captain America/Avengers/Marvel)
Cadhla (Norse/Celtic Mythology)

:iconaltairplz: :iconezioauditoreplz: :icondesmondmilesplz: :iconconnorkenwayplz: :iconhaythamkenwayplz::iconedwardkenwayplz: :iconthanekriosplz: :iconkaidanalenkoplz: :icongarrusplz: <- <3 these guys!

Current Residence: I live on Thisby!
deviantWEAR sizing preference: I really don't care!
Print preference: None
Favourite genre of music: Nu-Metal, Metal, Rock, Punk, Rap
Favourite style of art: Pencil and Paper/pen and ink
Operating System: Computer, sketch pad, anything I can draw on
MP3 player of choice: Sprint Optimus 3gs
Shell of choice: IDK, Carpenters Dwarf Triton?
Wallpaper of choice: Dont have wallpaper
Skin of choice: Asian?
Favourite cartoon character: (insert 'videogame' over 'cartoon): Altair
Personal Quote: "I can do whatever I want." (You have to sing it)
Hello my lovelies. :) I just wanted to bring you up to speed on my plans for my Fanfictions, and my art as well.

Semper Fi is closer to being finished than I'd like to admit. It's my pride and joy and I hope you guys like how I wrap it up. It'll be finished with around 30-35 chapters, depending on how I decide to split up my chapters, and I have a feeling some of you won't like the ending.

I will be sitting down with Trick Trick and finishing that one as well. It might only be 20 or 25 Chapters, because it's not as complicated. Or maybe it will be. I don't know yet. I have a general idea where it's going but no real solid writing down.

Appearance of Death I will try to really start after I finish Trick Trick. These things take time. It's Marvel fanfics so they will all be connected in some way. ;)

 On another hand, I just finished watching "The Gates" and I really want to write something about it. I think I'll do a Reader x Nick Monohan one shot. It'd be an AU just because cannonically, Chief Monohan is married. No cheating, maybe death. Who knows? I don't really know what's going to happen yet, or even if I'll write it.

As for art, I've been working on a few things, mostly a request for :icon2ndmercwithamouth: and it's coming along. I still have to finish it. It's a lot of chaos right now, lines everywhere, needs cleanup, but the bones are there, and I'm proud of it.

That's it XD
  • Mood: Happy
  • Listening to: nothing
  • Reading: othello

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Alpacachino Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Student General Artist
Thanks for the favs! <3
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Thanks for the fav :iconsupertighthugplz:
queen-of-olympus Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Student General Artist
;) NP
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thanks for the fave, please have a Llama
queen-of-olympus Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Student General Artist
:D Thank you for that Llama!
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musically " ThAnK YoU fOr ThE FAAAAAAAVVVV!"
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