#crossboned

[firstnamedirector]

“Oh come on, Brock.  I’m just going to set up my new hand.  Don’t you want to be the first thing it touches?”

@osseinintersect

[firstnamedirector]

Snow-bed

This wasn't supposed to be an avalanche zone. When Brock found Phil under all this shit, someone was getting an earful. Of bullets. Or a knife, that might be better. Sticking out of the side of their goddamn head.

"Rabbit?" he yells to the pile of fluffy, cold snow. He doesn't hear a response. That's...concerning. Certainly not enough to send him into a panic. Or frantically digging the piles of snow away like a mad man.

'If ya died down there, I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya myself'

The snow is getting heavy. His fingers numb. And he's starting to see something grey and black in the white white white.

"Rabbit?" That wasn't hopeful. It was calm. A simple question and not relief and dread and joy all rolled up in one.

Coulson smirked up to him as Brock forgot the numb pain and shoveled the frozen tomb away. "Hey," his voice is weak from the cold. Face flush. And fucking winks. "I dig you too."

Brock immediately starts putting the snow back over the hole.

[firstnamedirector]

[firstnamedirector]

"You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen."

Phil pinches the bridge of his nose.  Turning fully to face the mercenary.  The previously mentioned dead body in hand.  Juices leaking carelessly onto the floor as he stares in confusion.  ”Brock…stop calling the chickens I’m making for dinner dead bodies.  People are going to start thinking we’re cannibals.”