hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

"Do you mind if I sit down?" If they're going to have this talk now, Steve doesn't want to do it on his feet.

"Knock yourself out, it's your apartment too." Bucky toes the boots and brush under the table and sits down himself. Steve takes a chair that he judges so close as to get in Bucky's space but not so far as to possibly look like he's avoiding him, and he hates that he's making that calculation. He's just taking a breath to speak when Bucky adds, "I did mean the last part. That you should think about what you really want." He's still holding the rag and seems particularly intent on getting something out of the joints of his left hand.

"I did. And nothing's changed, at least not for me." He had thought about what it might be like to go back to the way things had been before. There had been a moment when they been young when something might have happened between them, but it didn't and he and Bucky both moved on. At least until now, when it had felt like they'd had a second chance. It wouldn't be easy for him, Steve wasn't going to lie, but he'd get used to it. Assuming, that was, that Bucky even wanted to be around him anymore. Natasha and Clint seemed to manage living in each other's back pockets just fine.

"Did you?" Bucky's voice is sharp again. "Because there is a whole ocean of stuff I haven't told you about. Sometimes even I don't know how deep it goes until I'm in it. Some of it won't ever go away. I got – used for a lot of things, and if you don't want to – to go where everyone's been, if you don't want to deal with that, that's fine."

"I don't care about those things. What I care about is whether you–" Steve's nails have been digging into his palm under the table and now they bite in even harder, because this is the thing that he stayed up trying to get his head around, the talk they needed to have no matter how hard it was for him to face it. "If there was ever anything I did to make you feel like you owed me or like there was only one right answer, I never meant to put you in a position like that. And that isn't what I would ever want, from you, from anybody. I care that this really is something that you want."

Steve has, to his shame, been looking at the tabletop, and when he drags his eyes up up Bucky is staring intently at him. The rag is flat against the table, clenched in his fingers.

"I want you," he says. "God help me, I want you."

There's unmistakable heat in his voice, and it breaks Steve's careful reserve. He reaches for Bucky's hand, but Bucky jerks away like he's been burned.

"Don't touch me like that."

"Is it because we had a fight? Because it's your left hand?"

"No, I mean don't touch my hand, don't touch my wrist." Bucky's voice has gone back to the hard, flat tone he had used last night.

Steve is suddenly flashing through every time he his hand had ended up landing on Bucky's forearm or thigh or fallen just a few inches short of Bucky's fingers, or when Bucky had just happened to move at that time and ended up touching Steve – arm, back, waist, leg – before Steve could touch him. Maybe he'd never put it together because it always played out differently, or maybe he'd just decided to see the answer he wanted to see. Steve takes a breath.

"Okay." He settles his own hand uselessly on the table, feeling like a fool. There's a brief silence, then Bucky shakes himself, stands, and motions at Steve.

"Come here, you. I can't stand seeing you looking all hangdog." He's all fondness now, and Steve wants to believe he means it. When he comes around the table he stops short, unsure of what to do. Bucky steps forward and puts his arms around Steve's shoulders and pulls him close. Steve puts a tentative hand on his back, pushes his face into Bucky's shoulder and drinks in the solidness of him. Bucky feels like he's not going anywhere, and Steve hopes it's true.

A/N: Whups, guess who forgot to anon? Hi, tracking people~!

And obviously, the comment above this should read 3/?. Wow, I'm with it tonight.

This is so good I'm so happy! I'm sure a lot of sad stuff is in the future but for now it's nice to see them just talking and being honest and mature about things. <3333

I really didn't want this to be the kind of story where nobody talks to anybody else... Not that it will be a panacea, of course, one must get one's emotional torment kicks somehow.

Aw, babies. My heart. I had to go back and read the first part of chapter 1 again to feel better. XD

Oh no.... I'm afraid it will be a bumpy ride, but they'll get there eventually!

I think one of my favorite things about this update was their difficult but honest communication (in huge and hilarious contrast to your other fill). You really get across how hard this is for them through body language; Steve, ashamed of himself but addressing his speech to the table; Bucky with his rag, obsessing over the cleanliness of his hand (and that helped create the powerful impact of the "I want you" line, by showing that Bucky had stopped paying attention to the rag). This is a very difficult, painful conversation for them both, but nevertheless they really try to express themselves and to understand where the other person is coming from. It's practically... healthy??

Another nice touch for their growing honest communication is that Bucky was able to command Steve not to touch his hands or wrists. That's a very tragic trigger -- I will admit that after you posted this I spent a lot of time thinking up scenarios for what could have created that trigger -- okay I know I put it in the prompt but I didn't really think it through then, it just seemed SAD, ANYWAY -- but I loved that he actually told Steve his hands were off-limits, instead of doing yet another little dance to hide it. It seems that now the trash cat is out of the bag, he's more willing to be open about what is and isn't okay for him.

But as for what is still unhealthy, the way Bucky talks about himself is still so sad. Not just that he "got used," which is language that distances itself from the reality of what to done with him, but also that he thinks it would be perfectly understandable that Steve might not want to go "where everyone's been." Like he doesn't quite see himself as a person who has inherent value that can never be taken away. And there's a lot of layers of implication in his line that Steve might not want to "deal with that": deal with what, exactly? Deal with having something tarnished, with whatever feelings of disappointment or disgust Bucky imagines he'll have? Or deal with Bucky's problems, deal with what Bucky's already dealing with inside himself?

Also they HUGGED and Steve TUCKED HIS FACE INTO BUCKY'S SHOULDER and I am EMOTIONAL.

It was important to me to write characters who at least understand the concept of talking to each other, not least of all because I can't stand stories whose entire plot could be averted if only they would ~~act like grown ups~~ have a conversation. Also, it was really difficult to see Steve going ahead with things before getting the whole... consent question cleared up. Now, will this solve things? Only time will tell.

This fill has made me spend a lot of time thinking about the... nexus of intimacy and control and how those might have been used. I didn't want to derail things into a very special episode titled Bucky Sets A Boundary, but that's part of why he's so assertive there. Sure, Steve says he'll listen, but what will he actually do when told no? I don't think Bucky really believed it up until then. And he's still very much in a place of feeling like he's been changed into... a thing for someone else's pleasure. He knows better than to reiterate it in the cold light of day, but he meant the broken toy line too.

Well. I had to give them at least a little sweetness after everything else. :P

Yeah, I want to cry whenever stories who try to shoehorn in superficial drama by having characters hide important information for literally no reason. Bad communication can be great if there's a real reason for it, but otherwise good communication is so good for character work! And then you can get down to the real shit!

Now, will this solve things? Only time will tell.

/rubs hands together like a supervillain gloating over live footage of the hero being lowered into the bear pit

nexus of intimacy and control

The nexus where my heart lives. I'm so happy you're exploring this kind of thing! Control of the kind Bucky was subjected to -- violational, abusive, lengthy -- is inherently intimate, really! He would have had no defenses to guard himself from his abusers, and they would have seen (and then been able to do what they wished with) every part of him, physical and emotional. He was so stripped bare and vulnerable. Also you were talking earlier about how Bucky's thinking is still skewed in some serious ways, and you've done a good job getting that across here, too, with his self-perception. AND, apparently, the fact that he really wasn't sure that Steve would take no for an answer, which is so... traumatic.

loved this, so good to see them talking and working out how to do this together

The first time they try it, everything seems like it’s going well right until they’re both naked and Steve is kneeling between Bucky’s spread legs. He looks up and immediately forgets whatever he was going to say, because Bucky has his eyes screwed shut. It’s the face of someone who’s tensing for a blow. He turns his face into the pillow and grits out, “Just put it in me already,” and Steve feels like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. He pulls back as Bucky goes “Wait, shit,” under his breath. There’s a moment when, absurdly, all Steve can think is what the hell he’s going to do with his hand, which is sticky with lubricant and had just moments ago been on Bucky’s dick and other places, and then Bucky’s right in front of him, biting his lower lip and looking worried.

“Look, I didn’t mean all that,” he says in a rush. “Come back. Let’s pretend I never said anything, please.” Bucky reaches his right hand up to cup the side of Steve’s neck and pull him in for a kiss. It’s wet and open against the corner of his mouth, and he can’t help but lean into it a little but as soon as he does Bucky’s gone, sucking little kisses against his jawline, the other side of his neck. The fingers of his left hand tangle with Steve’s lube-sticky ones, and the hand on his neck slides down his back to guide him forward, pulling them down together. It’s tender, and it’s all the things they haven’t done before. It’s all wrong.

This time, Steve has to fight a little to move away. “Bucky, whatever this act is you can drop it.”

“Do you want me to turn over? Get a gag?” Bucky’s voice is a little more desperate now, his eyes scanning up and down Steve’s body, and the slight breathiness Steve had chalked up to exertion is still there. “I’ll get you hard again, you know I’m good at it.”

Steve has to practically swat his hands away from his hips. “No, I don’t want any of that stuff!” It comes out sharper than he means. His mind is roiling with the implications of everything that that just happened. He wants to reach out and hang on to Bucky and he wants to never have sex again, but most of all he wants Bucky back to normal, and maybe some time to sort themselves out so they can talk about this at pretty much any other time. “I don’t want to have sex tonight, okay?” He emphasizes the first word, hoping this will be what it takes for them to get some space, for Bucky to have enough time to cool down and get out of whatever place he’s gone in his head.

It seems to work. Bucky draws back and doesn’t try to pull Steve with him. He scoots back until he’s sitting up against the pillows, flips the sheet over his lap, nods when Steve says they can talk in the morning once they’ve both have some sleep. Steve’s almost fully dressed, pulling his t-shirt over his head and trying not to think too hard about what it would take to wire someone to act like that, what kind of person would want that, how ready he’d been to offer to gag himself, when Bucky says, “Look, I’m sorry I can’t offer you your unspoiled fuckin’ virgin territory or whatever the hell it is you want.”

“It’s not about that, and you know it.” Steve knows he’s getting loud, but a distant part of him thinks that at least one thing hasn’t changed – they can still fight like two weasels in a bag.

“Really? Because I could swear I just heard you say that you didn’t want to fuck tonight.” Bucky’s on his feet, one hand holding the sheet around his waist.

“All right, I didn’t want to. I don’t want to have sex with someone who doesn’t like it, that’s not sex, it’s –” The words stick in his throat, so he says, “I’m not going to do that.”

“I told you to keep going, that not good enough for you?”

“Yeah, it was one of the worst lies you’ve ever told. You can stop trying to tell me what you think I want to hear, or whatever this is.”

“Or what, are you afraid you’re gonna hurt me?” Bucky spits out with enough contempt that Steve could flinch. “Because let me tell you, Rogers, you’re average. I’ve taken more than –”

“Don’t –” Something about Steve’s voice makes Bucky actually stop, but he realizes he doesn’t know what he was going to say after that. Don’t talk that way. Don’t talk about yourself that way. Don’t drag them any further into this than they already are. “I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady, “But I want you to stop. Please.”

“Fine.” Bucky’s voice is flat, but at least neither of them are shouting anymore. “I’m going to bed,” he announces, and lies down, pulls the sheet over him, and rolls over just like that.

Steve doesn’t go to bed. He grabs another shirt and a pair of sweatpants, goes down to the training floor, and spends the rest of the night dodging laser beams and blocking projectiles until there are feelers at the corners of his eyes and he can feel himself starting to bruise.

A/N: Now with 100% fewer HTML errors and correct numbering! Trash Mod, thank you for saving me from myself, you're a star.

Ugh I just love everything about this so much

Thank you~!

I was so excited to see that this had updated! And it was fantastic! Your Bucky and Steve characterizations are to die for, and I can't wait for more.

I probably say this every time, but I agonize over characterizations so your comment means the world to me. :) (And so does your excitement!)

asfdfihjsfik I just realized, oh my god - in the very first part, where Bucky jumps on Steve the minute he's in the door, he's so enthusiastic because he hasn't been able to get off for a month. MORE than a month, even! holy shit, he must be having a hell of a time in these early days, wanting Steve so badly and yet not being in control of his own body or what he wants to do with it. he's so angry and frustrated with himself and it hurts so good.

also I love the way you write their arguments, it really suits them. two weasels in a sack <3

Yesss, that's what takes that scene from the normal "reunion sex is definitely a high priority" to "let's bang on the hallway carpet, I don't care anymore." One of the things that attracted me to this prompt – besides the potential for humiliation and fucked-up Hydra sex games – was thinking about how fraught it would be to have your sexual response hinge on one act, which requires another person, and which you might not even want to do. Especially for someone who should be going through a process of reclaiming their own agency and their own body.

Ohhhh, the image of Bucky lying in bed with a look on his face like he's expecting pain. Of course it would be terrifying, after seventy years of terrible experiences. I feel so bad for Bucky -- what a painful dilemma, to want something, and to be terrified of the only way of getting it.

The entire paragraph where Bucky tries to convince Steve to get back into it is amazing, because it's subtle, but you've got him crossing all his own boundaries and pulling his own triggers -- the open-mouthed kissing, enlacing their fingers. It's brilliant that Bucky's fake sex persona is tender. It's also super trashy in its implications; I'm with Steve, thinking about how the hell you program that response into someone, and the kinds of things he must have gone through, and how nightmarish it would be to carry those memories around.

Also omg he didn't mean to say something that would turn Steve off so clearly he should just GAG HIMSELF. BUCKY

Bucky's so insecure about not what being what Steve wants and it's so great to watch him express those insecurities in such a healthy way: by attacking Steve with them. Like, I love it. The virgin territory line! And bypassing Steve's actual concern about emotional hurt to be like, you can't hurt me, I've taken WAY WORSE. BUCKY

Steve still can't say the word 'rape' when it comes to Bucky, oh no. Man, this fic frustrates (in a very engaging way) when it comes to the communication thing; on the one hand I'm so happy to see them talking honestly and openly about their desires, needs, boundaries, etc., and on the other hand they're still absolutely skirting around the root problem. I want to see them work it out, but I also want to be emotionally tortured forever, sooo...

I nearly made my author's note "Dear anonymous commenter, here's your fawn response." (Um, assuming you are that anonymous commenter, of course). He's already transgressed, and whether it's from fear of rejection or fear of reprisal, what Bucky wants doesn't matter anymore. He guesses Steve wants it sweet and tender, but if it had gone on much longer he probably would have tried something else. I went back and forth on the gag line – it was either that or offering to let Steve tie him up. Maybe the idea that Steve might want mutually-satisfying sex with an enthusiastically consenting partner did occur to him, but it doesn't seem like an option just then – he doesn't know how to play that. And then once he's had a moment to calm down, of course Steve's reticence has to do with his issues, and any consideration of Bucky's safety has to be contemptible, because anything else would mean questioning what I think were lies he made himself believe to survive. Steve can't say the word 'rape,' but neither can Bucky. He's totally seeing how far he can push it, too. Steve says he'll come back? He says he wants the truth? Let's see him handle this.

Well, if all goes to plan there are depths of emotional torment (and, I hope, love and mutual support?) yet to be plumed even if/when they have a frank conversation, so stay tuned. :D

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 4/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-05 03:44 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 4/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-05 09:34 (UTC) - Expand

please write mooooaaar!

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 4/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-26 21:22 (UTC) - Expand

Oh please, continue this!

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 4/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-26 21:37 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 4/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-26 22:37 (UTC) - Expand

Sometimes, particularly late at night when he can't sleep, Steve wonders if he should talk about this with someone. When he tries to think about who he comes up with a blank. Natasha's been tying up loose ends from her own past, which takes her away more often than not and puts more than enough on her plate already. As for the other Avengers, it's not that Steve dislikes them – all right, Tony Stark, frequently, but the man always comes through in the end – but they're not that kind of friend, and even more than that he's painfully aware of his position as team leader. Sam would listen, but he's not free therapy. And the thing Steve keeps coming back to is that this isn't just about him.

When he'd gotten back – really gotten back, after the Chitauri when he decided it was time to stop wallowing and get out there – Steve had seen a lot of professionals. They had all been very good at their jobs but he hadn't liked any of them except Ms Le, the resettlement lady. She hadn't treated him with kid gloves or professional detachment. She had a no-nonsense attitude and a wicked smile and out of all of them, Steve thought she was the one who most taught him to love the modern world.

But even if he found the Ms Le of therapists, he comes up short imagining what he'd say to them because it's not jut his privacy, it's Bucky's too. Even if he kept things vague – "my friend," and "something bad" – it would be patently obvious to anyone who knew who he was. He could go to someone who didn't know and just lie about all the details, but how much could you lie to those people?

He reads the Internet. It's not as helpful as he'd like.

Steve is perpetually baffled and slightly embarrassed about the size of his bathroom. For starters, he's not sure why anyone would need two sinks, or a bathtub and a separate shower. Not that he will ever be complaining about the latter. It's not that Steve's never been in a shower this big, it's just that it ran nearly-cold water and there were guaranteed to be three other guys in there trying to scrub off at the same time. This one has three separate showerheads, but more importantly the water can be as warm or cool as he wants, as hard or gentle as he wants, for as long as he wants. It's one thing about the future he's never going to be sick of.

He's rinsing off when someone knocks on door of the glass partition and Bucky says, "It's me," like Steve wouldn't recognize his silhouette any time, anywhere.

"What's wrong?" is the first thing that comes out, and he's reaching for the door handle when Bucky steps through and kisses him. Steve's instinct is to reach out and pull them closer together, but instead he leans back and catches his breath. "What's going on?"

"Oh, come on." Bucky's mouth quirks up, and it's all warm and good-humored. "And I thought I was the one who was supposed to have no memory."

He's naked and already most of the way hard, but it's the smile more than anything else that convinces Steve this is for real. Whatever persona Bucky had tried on the other night had been earnest, but not happy, and this squares with what Steve remembers from back before, Bucky laughing as he spun a dance partner or looking a little giddy if she let him get bold later on.

They end up under the main shower head, both of them soaked by the spray and the dial digging into Steve's back. Steve has one hand pressed up between them and the other on the curve of Bucky's left arm where he can feel the plates shift as he moves and Bucky is nosing slowly down the line of his neck in a way that's practically chaste, like he doesn't also have one hand around Steve's cock and isn't grinding his own erection against his hip with increasing urgency. Steve’s sliding his hand down when Bucky says against his ear, "Turn the fucking water off, now."

They end up under the main shower head, both of them soaked by the spray and the dial digging into Steve's back. Steve has one hand pressed up between them and the other on the curve of Bucky's left arm where he can feel the plates shift as he moves and Bucky is nosing slowly down the line of his neck in a way that's practically chaste, like he doesn't also have one hand around Steve's cock and isn't grinding his own erection against his hip with increasing urgency. Steve’s sliding his hand down when Bucky says against his ear, "Turn the fucking water off, now."

In the stillness that follows, Steve is hyperaware of the sounds of water running into the drain and Bucky breathing against his shoulder. One of his hands is twisted awkwardly to reach the dial, but he brings the other one up to rest in the wet hair at the back of Bucky's neck. In response he presses a little closer to Steve, but doesn't say anything. Eventually Bucky starts moving against him again, purposeful and unmistakeable, and Steve's firm hand on his shoulder almost doesn't stop him.

"I got a perfectly good bed right in the other room if you want a change of scenery." Steve's trying to keep things light, but fuck, he knows he doesn't really know what just happened there and at the same time he can't go one without hearing something from Bucky.

"It got to me for a moment," Bucky says, still up against his ear, "I'm fine now, Steve, please –" He breaks off to pull them against one of the other walls, then turns around, left arm braced on the tile. "I got myself ready, don't make me wait any longer."

Steve does make him wait – makes them both wait, because no matter how many times he reminds himself this isn't about him he still wants, he wants so much it feels like he's gonna die from it – because Bucky's already slick but he's sure as hell not relaxed. He runs his other hand along the line of Bucky's back, down his side, over his hip while he works. Once he tries to go for his cock, but Bucky twitches away fast enough that it can't be for show, and Steve feels a little guilty. Maybe that's just a tease without –

Steve drops a kiss on the skin of Bucky's left shoulder before he pushes in. He has to take a moment, steadying himself against Bucky's hips, but it's almost amazing how easily they fall into rhythm with each other. They're still warm and wet from the shower, and what Steve will remember most afterwards is the noise of skin on skin in the damp air, the curve of Bucky's back, and having to bite his lip to keep from running at the mouth – "You're so –" and "Oh God" and "Bucky, I –" without three words strung together. That and the way everything seemed to be going well right up until it wasn't.

Without warning Bucky shoves away and out from under him, and there was a confused moment when they were practically grappling against each other, Steve trying to hold Bucky steady and Bucky trying to pull away. The glass door bounces shut in his wake, and if Steve hadn't shouted for him to wait he probably would have gone straight out the door. Instead, Steve sees his outline stop and then sharpen as he presses his back against the door of the partition. Steve's mind is a mess of adrenaline and left-over lust, but it's still a cold weight in his stomach when he realizes why. He goes down on his knees on his side. It's just regular glass, he thinks. He could put his hand through it without hardly trying and hold Bucky like he wants to – and make him bolt right out the door, maybe for good, or worse, stay because of some fear Steve hardly knows the shape of.

Bucky shifts a little against the glass and says, "I'm fine," in a tone that's one part defiance and two parts discomfort. Steve has to try not to laugh just because he doesn't know what the hell else to do.

"Jesus, no you're not."

"I will be."

"You want to tell me what happened there?"

There's a long silence, then Bucky grits out, "This is humiliating." Before Steve can get a word in, he goes on, "It's humiliating and it's idiotic and it's – it's not like I ever got picky before, I don't know –" He cuts off, and when he goes in it's in a undertone that makes Steve sure this isn't really meant for him. "Never got like this before, half the time I wanted it anyway."

"That's not true." Steve has to work to keep from raising his voice. Or slamming his hand into the wall.

"You know that because, what, you were there when I got down on my hands and knees on the Secretary's office floor and begged to lick his shoes clean and begged him for –"

"I know that because no one wants to get raped."

In the silence that follows Steve hears his words on an endless loop in his own head. The next sound is Bucky's left hand against the shower door as he stands up.

"I don't have to talk about this," he announces flatly.

Steve looks up from where he's kneeling on the cooling shower floor to where Bucky's shadow is indistinct through the frosted glass and he's not angry, he's just so fucking tired. "You're right. You don't have to talk about anything. We can have the same damn fight every time we get close to each other. I can keep hurting you. But if that's what you really want I need you to at least tell me." I need to figure out if I can keep going, he doesn't say.

"You didn't hurt me," is all Bucky says, and Jesus, it says something about where they are that Steve doesn't know whether he's lying to spare him or whether he really thinks that.

"Buck, please."

"Later," he says, and then, more like a statement than a question, "You won't follow me."

When he hears the door shut Steve slumps back and covers his face with his hands. All he can think of is how he would have handled something like this back before. Gotten up into Bucky’s space, probably, refused to let him leave their apartment until he told him what was going on. Steve didn’t get less bullheaded when he got bigger, just realized there were some things you couldn’t solve by going straight at them and not letting up. He’s not sure he got any better at them. But he pushes himself to his feet, because lying on the floor of his own shower feels a lot like giving up.

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 5/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-05-02 14:13 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 5/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-05-02 16:39 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 5/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-05-02 16:47 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Bucky can only come with penetration -- Smash All Your Mirrors, 5/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-05-02 17:35 (UTC) - Expand

Now with 100% less copy-paste errors and a fixed sentence.

Sometimes, particularly late at night when he can't sleep, Steve wonders if he should talk about this with someone. When he tries to think about who he comes up with a blank. Natasha's been tying up loose ends from her own past, which takes her away more often than not and puts more than enough on her plate already. As for the other Avengers, it's not that Steve dislikes them – all right, Tony Stark, frequently, but the man always comes through in the end – but they're not that kind of friend, and even more than that he's painfully aware of his position as team leader. Sam would listen, but he's not free therapy. And the thing Steve keeps coming back to is that this isn't just about him.

When he'd gotten back – really gotten back, after the Chitauri when he decided it was time to stop wallowing and get out there – Steve had seen a lot of professionals. They had all been very good at their jobs but he hadn't liked any of them except Ms Le, the resettlement lady. She hadn't treated him with kid gloves or professional detachment and out of all of them, Steve thought she was the one who most taught him to love the modern world.

But even if he found the Ms Le of therapists, he comes up short imagining what he'd say to them because it's not jut his privacy, it's Bucky's too. Even if he kept things vague – "my friend," and "something bad" – it would be patently obvious to anyone who knew who he was. He could go to someone who didn't know and just lie about all the details, but how much could you lie to those people?

He reads the Internet. It's not as helpful as he'd like.

Steve is perpetually baffled and slightly embarrassed about the size of his bathroom. For starters, he's not sure why anyone would need two sinks, or a bathtub and a separate shower. Not that he will ever be complaining about the latter. It's not that Steve's never been in a shower this big, it's just that it ran nearly-cold water and there were guaranteed to be three other guys in there trying to scrub off at the same time. This one has three separate showerheads, but more importantly the water can be as warm or cool as he wants, as hard or gentle as he wants, for as long as he wants. It's one thing about the future he's never going to be sick of.

He's rinsing off when someone knocks on door of the glass partition and Bucky says, "It's me," like Steve wouldn't recognize his silhouette any time, anywhere.

"What's wrong?" is the first thing that comes out, and he's reaching for the door handle when Bucky steps through and kisses him. Steve's instinct is to reach out and pull them closer together, but instead he leans back and catches his breath. "What's going on?"

"Oh, come on." Bucky's mouth quirks up, and it's all warm and good-humored. "And I thought I was the one who was supposed to have no memory."

He's naked and already most of the way hard, but it's the smile more than anything else that convinces Steve this is for real. Whatever persona Bucky had tried on the other night had been earnest, but not happy, and this squares with what Steve remembers from back before, Bucky laughing as he spun a dance partner or looking a little giddy if she let him get bold later on.

They end up under the main shower head, both of them soaked by the spray and the dial digging into Steve's back. Steve has one hand pressed up between them and the other on the curve of Bucky's left arm where he can feel the plates shift as he moves and Bucky is nosing slowly down the line of his neck in a way that's practically chaste, like he doesn't also have one hand around Steve's cock and isn't grinding his own erection against his hip with increasing urgency. Steve’s sliding his hand down when Bucky says against his ear, "Turn the fucking water off, now."

In the stillness that follows, Steve is hyperaware of the sounds of water running into the drain and Bucky breathing against his shoulder. One of his hands is twisted awkwardly to reach the dial, but he brings the other one up to rest in the wet hair at the back of Bucky's neck. In response he presses a little closer to Steve, but doesn't say anything. Eventually Bucky starts moving against him again, purposeful and unmistakeable, and Steve's firm hand on his shoulder almost doesn't stop him.

"I got a perfectly good bed right in the other room if you want a change of scenery." Steve's trying to keep things light, but fuck, he knows he doesn't really know what just happened there and at the same time he can't go one without hearing something from Bucky.

"It got to me for a moment," Bucky says, still up against his ear, "I'm fine now, Steve, please –" He breaks off to pull them against one of the other walls, then turns around, left arm braced on the tile. "I got myself ready, don't make me wait any longer."

Steve does make him wait – makes them both wait, because no matter how many times he reminds himself this isn't about him he still wants, he wants so much it feels like he's gonna die from it – because Bucky's already slick but he's sure as hell not relaxed. He runs his other hand along the line of Bucky's back, down his side, over his hip while he works. Once he tries to go for his cock, but Bucky twitches away fast enough that it can't be for show, and Steve feels a little guilty. Maybe that's just a tease without –

Steve drops a kiss on the skin of Bucky's left shoulder before he pushes in. He has to take a moment, steadying himself against Bucky's hips, but it's almost amazing how easily they fall into rhythm with each other. They're still warm and wet from the shower, and what Steve will remember most afterwards is the noise of skin on skin in the damp air, the curve of Bucky's back, and having to bite his lip to keep from running at the mouth – "You're so –" and "Oh God" and "Bucky, I –" without three words strung together. That and the way everything seemed to be going well right up until it wasn't.

Without warning Bucky shoves away and out from under him, and there was a confused moment when they were practically grappling against each other, Steve trying to hold Bucky steady and Bucky trying to pull away. The glass door bounces shut in his wake, and if Steve hadn't shouted for him to wait he probably would have gone straight out the door. Instead, Steve sees his outline stop and then sharpen as he presses his back against the door of the partition. Steve's mind is a mess of adrenaline and left-over lust, but it's still a cold weight in his stomach when he realizes why. He goes down on his knees on his side. It's just regular glass, he thinks. He could put his hand through it without hardly trying and hold Bucky like he wants to – and make him bolt right out the door, maybe for good, or worse, stay because of some fear Steve hardly knows the shape of.

Bucky shifts a little against the glass and says, "I'm fine," in a tone that's one part defiance and two parts discomfort. Steve has to try not to laugh just because he doesn't know what the hell else to do.

"Jesus, no you're not."

"I will be."

"You want to tell me what happened there?"

There's a long silence, then Bucky grits out, "This is humiliating." Before Steve can get a word in, he goes on, "It's humiliating and it's idiotic and it's – it's not like I ever got picky before, I don't know –" He cuts off, and when he goes in it's in a undertone that makes Steve sure this isn't really meant for him. "Never got like this before, half the time I wanted it anyway."

"That's not true." Steve has to work to keep from raising his voice. Or slamming his hand into the wall.

"You know that because, what, you were there when I got down on my hands and knees on the Secretary's office floor and begged to lick his shoes clean and begged him for –"

"I know that because no one wants to get raped."

In the silence that follows Steve hears his words on an endless loop in his own head. The next sound is Bucky's left hand against the shower door as he stands up.

"I don't have to talk about this," he announces flatly.

Steve looks up from where he's kneeling on the cooling shower floor to where Bucky's shadow is indistinct through the frosted glass and he's not angry, he's just so fucking tired. "You're right. You don't have to talk about anything. We can have the same damn fight every time we get close to each other. I can keep hurting you. But if that's what you really want I need you to at least tell me." I need to figure out if I can keep going, he doesn't say.

"You didn't hurt me," is all Bucky says, and Jesus, it says something about where they are that Steve doesn't know whether he's lying to spare him or whether he really thinks that.

"Buck, please."

"Later," he says, and then, more like a statement than a question, "You won't follow me."

When he hears the door shut Steve slumps back and covers his face with his hands. All he can think of is how he would have handled something like this back before. Gotten up into Bucky’s space, probably, refused to let him leave their apartment until he told him what was going on. Steve didn’t get less bullheaded when he got bigger, just realized there were some things you couldn’t solve by going straight at them and not letting up. He’s not sure he got any better at them. But he pushes himself to his feet, because lying on the floor of his own shower feels a lot like giving up.