"A Million Reasons"

It was damn hard to take out Sunil Bakshi. He was muscle, but he wasn't a field agent of Rumlow's skill, and he'd been captured by SHIELD one more than one occasion. How could he possibly be so good at dodging shots?

Brock grimaced at yet another failure. After the surgery, he'd been a bit peeved at HYDRA (to say the least), ready to strike out on his own, and it took a great deal of money for them to tempt him out of retirement to take out Bakshi, rumoured to be a traitor to HYDRA. He'd ordered the assassination of a number of senior officials, apparently at SHIELD's bidding, so Brock had been employed to deal with him.

He slinked away to the nearest bar to reconsider his approach. Half an hour and two beers in, Bakshi entered. He didn't even bother to look around. Either it was overconfidence or stupidity, or perhaps both. Brock looked down at his drink, keeping his peripheral on Bakshi. Nope. Not a hint that he was being watched by the man. He couldn't be seen through the mirror behind the bar, not at this angle.

He tensed as Bakshi turned around, a spirit – scotch? – in hand. Brock sank back, fully aware that to keep an eye on Bakshi he risked being seen himself. But better the devil…

Bakshi drank slowly, and Brock watched him, rarely taking his eyes off his target. Eventually, the man stood and walked off towards the bathroom. No way was Brock going to risk him running. He followed, always alert for potential threats, and entered the toilets five seconds after Bakshi.

All the stall doors were closed, suspicious in itself. Brock walked along quietly, and absolutely didn't jump in surprise when one door opened and he was pushed back against the counter by a pissed off Bakshi. Brock shoved him off, and he was reluctantly impressed when it took at least two whole minutes to get Bakshi on the floor. Even then he yanked Brock down with him, and they ended up nose-to-nose.

"You're a hard one to take down," Brock remarked, and damn, genuine compliments usually had to be dragged out of him.

Bakshi's eyes widened and he gasped softly. Brock raised an eyebrow, and began to reach for his gun, when…

"You're hard, as well," he said.

Huh. Who knew an English accent speaking his soul words would be enough to throw his concentration? Bakshi jumped to his feet and backed off a few steps. Brock stood up and swallowed.

"Always pictured those words being spoken in a different context," he said. He watched Bakshi work out what he meant, and the blush was pretty… cute.

"My parents thought I'd be far more the sporty type," he replied. "I refused to let ambiguous words dictate the direction I would take in life… although the years of studying self-defence have proved worthwhile on multiple occasions."

"Can I buy you a drink?" Brock said, scratching the back of his head. "I promise: no more assassination attempts."

"And I promise to dispose of the poison I intended to use on you." Bakshi shrugged. "It was nothing personal…"

"Just business," Brock finished. "SHIELD?"

"…Aren't they paying you?"

"No. HY…" He glanced around. "Drinks. In a booth. Come on."

Once they were seated close to each other – it could easily be explained that they'd just discovered they were soulmates, which was true – they bent their heads together and spoke in low voices.

"HYDRA is paying me to kill you," Brock said. "Since you organised hits on the Sheikh, the Baroness, and the Banker, and then killed Octavian Bloom."

"Bloom and I thought they wanted to kill us," Bakshi – no, Sunil – said. "SHIELD… misled us into believing that. Then they shot Bloom and sent me to government custody. Not that that lasted long. Someone assisted me in escaping…"

"Probably because it'd be harder to take you out when the army was guarding you," Brock said. "Looks like HYDRA saved your life by trying to kill you."

"How lovely," he muttered.

"Look on the bright side. We've got each other."

"True," Sunil said, looking him over with a small smile. "A very bright side, indeed."

Brock cleared his throat, trying not to blush. "Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? England, I'm guessing."

"That's right. Born and raised in Ealing. Not a bad area as such, but my family left much to be desired, as did the children of the neighbourhood."

"I'm sorry."

"What about you? I'm afraid I still cannot distinguish the accents of different states and territories from one another. If it isn't the Deep South, I haven't a hope."

Brock chuckled, pressing into his soulmate's side. Honestly, at his age? He was giggling like a damn school girl? Jeez, if this was the way he felt before they even bonded…

"The Big Apple," he said. "Native New Yorker. Didn't get my soulmark until I was in my teens, but you're a big enough boy for me to feel less like a lech, thank Christ."

"Who d'you think our third is?" Sunil asked, stroking Brock's hand absently.

"Be nice if it was a woman, to balance out the testosterone," Brock said. "Otherwise we'd probably go crazy."

"Not good in our line of work," Sunil said.

"I became a merc to pay my medical bills. Wanna join me?"

"Has HYDRA paid you yet?"

"Nope. You?"

"No."

"Damn," Sunil muttered. Brock smiled bitterly. "What do we do?"

"What I do best," Brock said. "Strategise."

"Any ideas yet?"

He winced. "You probably won't like it, but it's worth a shot. I'll need a phone number. For…" He sighed. "Phil Coulson."

"…You're right. I don't like it."

"When you're a merc, you hear about other people who work in that line. The one of most interest to us is Lance Hunter. Worked for Isabelle Hartley. She used to be SHIELD. Now he is. Which means Coulson might be willing to hire mercenaries."

"But they… really don't like me."

"I betrayed Captain America, his goddamned hero. He has every reason to hate both of us, but he's a practical man. There's talk he's going to bring Grant Ward in…" Sunil flinched, and Brock paused. "Spill. What happened?"

"He's the one who gave me to SHIELD the first time they took me into custody."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Of course. But we've hurt SHIELD, and… I don't have a personal reason to join them. Well." He took hold of Brock's hand and smiled softly. "Aside from the obvious. So if it's the only way to earn a living, we'll… sound him out, I suppose. If HYDRA wants us to take each other out, why should we return to them?"

"Should've taken the money first," Brock muttered, berating himself.

"They would've just come after us," Sunil said. "Forget about it, love."

Brock smiled despite himself. "Calling me 'Love' already?"

"Just a British term of endearment," Sunil mumbled.

"Come on, handsome. Let's get out of here. We're not gonna find contact information for SHIELD just sitting around here."

May was giving Coulson dirty looks, and so was Simmons. Skye noticed that Hunter and Fitz didn't seem as perturbed; but then it's not like they'd ever had contact with either of the men coming to visit. In May's case it was natural protectiveness over her charges, which included Simmons.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Skye said, poking Coulson from behind. He glared at her over his shoulder.

"They might be able to help enough so that we don't have to find Ward and bring him in to help us," he said. Skye inhaled sharply. "I'm pretty sure two mercenaries who are just in it for the money will be preferable to our issues with Ward. And, well, he seems to be pretty off his head. And Rumlow may be enhanced, which will be useful for us."

"If they're serious, and this doesn't blow up in our face," May said.

"Did I forget to tell you that I've been buying lottery tickets once a week for over a year?" Coulson said. They all looked at him. "Won it about a month ago. Been investing it wisely. We can afford a couple of mercenaries on the payroll."

"Now I'm wishing I hadn't taken a permanent position," Hunter said.

"We'll win them over, get them on staff. Save the money for chocolates for the Avengers when I tell them I'm alive… eventually."

"They'll need alcohol, not chocolate."

"Here they are," Fitz said, pointing at the car pulling up outside.

"It's not a risk letting them know where we are?" May said, eyeing Coulson.

"Everything is a risk in life, May," he replied.

"Thanks for the reassurance."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bakshi, Mr. Rumlow," Coulson said, walking down to meet the men as they approached, arms brushing as they walked. Skye had heard something about them being soulmates. "Welcome to… headquarters."

"What're you calling this place?" Rumlow said, raising an eyebrow.

"Haven't decided yet. We have a bad habit of not being able to keep secret bases all that long before they're compromised."

"HYDRA thinks we killed each other," Bakshi said. "By the time they connect the bodies with the ones missing from teaching hospital morgues…"

Rumlow touched his arm. "They'd be idiots not to spot the old bash-in-the-face trick."

"Always go for the head, right?" Skye quipped to them. Okay, probably a bit insensitive, judging by their shocked looks.

"Nothing like the classics," Bakshi said.

Oh.

"We haven't been introduced," Rumlow said.

No.

"Holy shit," Skye said.

"Oh my God," Simmons said, and she covered her mouth. "Skye, those are your…"

"Yeah." Skye rubbed the back of her neck. "Crap."

"Skye, are they your soulmates?" Coulson asked weakly.

"…They said my soulmarks."

"You said ours," Bakshi said, and the men stepped closer. "You're Agent Skye, am I right?" She nodded, speechless

"Permanent positions," Hunter whispered to Fitz, who snickered.

"When do we start, Coulson?" Rumlow asked.

I really want to call Bakshi/Rumlow Bakrow. Or Bakshow. Or Shilow. With Skye in the mix… Shie and Low?

I'd already come up with Bakshi/Rumlow as a pairing (and then threw in Ward in a previous chapter), which was seconded by Equal-Opportunity-Reader. Kira Kyuu – who advised me to make them mercenaries – suggested adding Skye to the mix.

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