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

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

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Welcome to Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves 2: Electric Boogaloo. AKA the seamy sexual-violence-and-violent-sex underbelly of Captain America fandom, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

[Round 1] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by

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Round 2 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 3.

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(I got busy at work today and didn't have time to respond to all your lovely comments, but I read and appreciate and am inspired by every single one of them - so thank you!)

The negotiations go long every day and Sam finds himself playing errand boy more often than not - running back to the villa because Steve wants to know how Bucky is or needs to tell one of Bucky’s caregivers something. Steve is focused at the table, competent and attentive, but as soon as there’s a break, he drifts away, clearly disliking the long hours.

At night, he goes straight up to his rooms, barely pausing to say good night. They set up a cot for him, near Bucky, but every time Sam comes in, he’s sitting right by the bedside.

Five days in, Sam comes in around Bucky's lunch time. The negotiations haven't even had a break all morning and Sam could've cut the tension coming off Steve with a knife. He slips in, quiet in case Bucky is resting, and immediately knows something is wrong.

The staff is mostly the same staff as at HQ so Sam knows them well enough to know they looks rattled.

"What happened?" he asks, already wondering if he should be calling Steve right now. Tenuous proceedings be damned. Steve would never forgive him.

The story comes out in pieces.

One of the nurses had been feeding Bucky his protein shake. He hasn't had problems swallowing in months. Not since the very beginning when they weren't even sure if he could. For months, Bucky's been opening his mouth when food touches it, taking it in, swallowing it as it slides back in his throat - sometimes it took a little rubbing to encourage him but never much. Sam remembers a doctor saying it was the same basic reflex as an infant had.

Today, Bucky had been more absent, hadn't been swallowing without someone massaging his throat, hadn't been making his noises, or little limb twitches. They'd been halfway through the shake when Bucky had choked, breathed in the wrong way, not swallowed well enough, something. He didn't possess enough coordination for forceful coughing so there had been a tense few seconds where Bucky had struggled soundlessly while they pulled the auction equipment, got him on his side, and cleared his airway.

He never lost consciousness, never stopped breathing. He seems okay now. Okay as he can seem. The worry is how much stuff managed to get into his lungs. Why he choked in the first place. Is he losing his gag reflex? Should they call Steve?

Sam drifts over to the bed. Bucky is propped up still, head carefully positioned between two foam pillows. His forehead is sagging on one, eyes straight ahead as he stares out at the blue sky through the window, face slack and blank. The edges of his mouth look a little raw. He doesn't twitch when Sam lays a hand on his shoulder.

Sam has heard the doctors. Read the reports. He knows that Barnes does not react to his surroundings in any meaningful way. So maybe it's his imagination. But this feels different. There's no rolling of Bucky's head, no slight hiss between his teeth, no eyes roving around the room. None of the little noises and movements Sam thinks of as Bucky now.

His chest tightness. "Is this new?" he asks, trusting they'll get it. How do you ask if a minimally conscious borderline vegetative brain damage patient is quieter than normal?

There's shuffling behind him.

"It started after Captain Rogers started the negotiations."

Early on, in quiet moments when Sam has managed to drag Steve into the daylight for breaks, Steve had often, big shoulders hunched and face in hands, asked if Sam thought Bucky was in there somewhere. Asked if maybe this was all a coping mechanism and if Steve just made him feel safe and loved and warm enough, maybe he would just come back. He asked if Sam thought Bucky knew him. Sam had always mumbled some answer about how the brain was a tricky thing.

The questions had stopped as time went on and Bucky's brain scans never looked like anything but Swiss cheese. But Sam is pretty sure Steve is still asking those questions.

"You miss him, don't you?" Sam says quietly, soothing his fingers down Bucky's shoulder. "You're not used to him being gone. I know it's hard but this is only for awhile and he'll be back all the time. I swear. He hasn't forgotten about you."

Bucky doesn't respond and Sam wonders if this is how Steve always feels.

After some indecision, Sam goes to tell Steve in person at the next break.

Steve goes very pale with his lead in of "First, I want to say that Bucky is fine now..." And the conversation goes down hill from there.

Eventually, Steve has a urgent, hushed conversation with Stark and he and Sam are in the car back to the house only a few minutes later.

Steve conferences with Bucky's neurologist on the way (it looks like Steve's call dragged him out of bed) and he has a notebook open on his lap that he's referencing and writing furiously in.

Sam had known Steve had been reading up on brain trauma and recovery. But, to Sam's inexpert ear, Steve sounds like he's going head to head with the guy Tony Stark considers the leading expert.

When they hang up, Steve sits back and presses his fingers into his hands. "We'll have to get new scans as soon as we get back," he says. "This isn't... If he's losing function, we need to find out why."

"Didn't know you'd become such an expert," Sam says as they get out of the car. "It's impressive, Steve."

Steve shoots him a look. "I learned four languages in the six months after they woke me up. Of course, I'm gonna become an expert in this. What's the good with all this brain if I can't... If Bucky is... If I don't..." He stops. "I know everyone thinks I'm in denial." His voice is almost a whisper. "And that I think he understand more than he does and I'm being unrealistic. But I can't help Bucky if I'm not trying to fix him. I believe in him. If anyone can overcome, it's him. And if he never gets any better than this. If he... If he gets worse. Than I want him to feel as comfortable and safe and healthy as possible. I can't do that if I don't know what's going on."

At the rooms, Steve goes straight to Bucky. He kisses his forehead, strokes his hair, leans close and murmurs in his ear with his eyes closed. Bucky doesn't twitch.

Steve makes the staff tell him the whole thing again from the beginning, writing it all in his little notebook. He has a frank conversation about Bucky's bowel movements that Sam, frankly, could've done fine with never hearing.

When the room is clear except for Sam, Steve goes to the bed and moves the foam supports that help position Bucky. He gently lifts him into his arms, tucking the blanket around him as he does. He stands, without moving, for just a moment, Bucky cradled to his chest. They go to the patio, Bucky unmoving and vacant and Steve looking more weary than Sam can remember.

Steve sits on one of the large chairs, using his feet to sway in a rocking motion. "I'm sorry," he tells Bucky in a voice so low that Sam wouldn't have been able to hear had it not been so quiet. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't understand why I was gone. But I'll never really leave you. That's a promise I'll never break. I know the world is scary for you now and you don't always understand. But I," his voice catches. "But I understand you. Okay, Buck? I get it and I'll be here and I'll make sure you don't have to worry. You just gotta keep being strong and trying and I'll be there every step of the way."

At night, he goes straight up to his rooms, barely pausing to say good night. They set up a cot for him, near Bucky, but every time Sam comes in, he’s sitting right by the bedside.

He's staying awake in order to make up for the time he missed with Bucky during the day, isn't he? My heart is cracking open.

WHY DID I READ THIS BEFORE BED NOW I'M CRYING

I'm dying. Sam's skepticism before when Steve had said he knows Bucky misses him when he's not there was palpable, so Sam immediately noticing the difference in Bucky, being told it started right after the negotiations did, stroking Bucky's shoulder while asking Bucky, "You miss him, don't you?" and trying to reassure him just...GAH. MY HEART. And that closing scene just utterly destroyed me. Such a powerful visual, coupled with Steve's words. Because that's it, isn't it? Bucky does sense things in his own way, and he knew Steve had been gone an awful lot lately. Of course he wouldn't understand why.

"But I," his voice catches. "But I understand you. Okay, Buck? I get it and I'll be here and I'll make sure you don't have to worry. You just gotta keep being strong and trying and I'll be there every step of the way."

Yep, this is the part that broke me. Bucky was starting to give up, wasn't he? Because he felt Steve's absence during the day so much. And if Steve's giving up on him, if Steve's leaving him, then there's no reason to try so hard. Nothing in his world that matters without Steve's warm presence. I'M FINE. Please accept this pile of snotty tissues as a token of my affection.

ahhh i love your comments! I wanted to show a little bit of the pieces of Bucky that were left, even if there's not much there. Maybe just an awareness of how upset Steve would be if Bucky gave up - but if Steve's not there to remind Bucky of it, that awareness starts to fade. thank you again - they encourage me so much.

Interlude.

These are some of the things Steve reads about.

Minimally Conscious State

The doctors say Bucky is vegetative. They say he does not respond to his environment in a meaningful, consistent or purposeful way. He needs to answer questions through either movements or vocalizations. He needs to reach for things. He needs to track things with his eyes. He need to shows awareness when his environment changes. He needs to do all these things before they will consider him to be anything more than a vegetable.

So Steve talks to Bucky. He says his name as often as he can. “Bucky, I’m right here. Bucky, I’m with you. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.” After a few months, Bucky started making his “Uh-ee” sound back. The doctors disregard the sound for the most part because Bucky doesn’t seem to make it with any regularly or specific prompting. But Steve feels like he knows. Because Bucky, Bucky of old, always said “Stevie” in that same way. There wasn’t always the same reason or purpose - sometimes it was frustration or fear or love or happiness or surprise or exasperation. And he thinks it’s the same way now.

He asks him questions even though Bucky never answers. “Bucky, are you hungry?” “Are you too warm?” “Are you too cold?” “Is this comfortable?” “Do you want a bath?” He asks and asks and always pauses so Bucky can answer. When Bucky’s face stays empty and slack, when his mouth stays at his perpetual half open gape, when his eyes don’t see anything, Steve feels empty but he keeps trying.

They try music therapy and scent therapy and water therapy and color therapy and texture therapy.

He tries to have music playing in their room most of the time. Mostly instrumental: horns and violins and drums and fiddles and pianos. There’s big band and traditional Irish music and orchestral and classical and music that sounds like it belongs on the back porch or a farm. He works his way through decades of music.

There’s a cupboard full of scented oils. Some days, Steve will strip down Bucky from his clothes and settle him on the massage table, clean and dry. He’ll patiently rub bits of oil, all the different scents, under Bucky’s nose and watch patiently for a reaction. Apples. Chocolate. Grapefruit. Vanilla. Salt. Tangerine. Orange. Cinder. Lavender. Cinnamon. Coffee.

He thinks Bucky likes the chocolate and the orange best. Maybe the coffee? he’s not sure why. There’s not a definitive noise or expression he can point to - just the feeling he gets from knowing Bucky better than anyone else.

Pressure sores

Bucky gets his first pressure sore only a month after he comes back. Steve finds it when he has Bucky turned on his side, wiping him down. It’s on his upper thigh and it’s red and tender and Steve feels it like a shock in his gut because he’s let Bucky down again. He promised Bucky would never hurt again and now Bucky is hurting. It doesn’t matter that Bucky doesn’t seem to feel it. Steve has failed.

He, with the nurses, dress the wound and use the foam supports get the pressure off of the area. Steve goes over the rest of Bucky’s skin meticulously, seeking out the thin reddening spots that could indicate another one is forming.

While Bucky’s not talking, it’s Steve responsibility to know what he needs, to protect him.

He will not fail again.

Gag reflex

In the beginning, Bucky had choked a lot: soup, water, protein shakes, his own saliva.

There had been conversations about feeding tubes and ventilators because Bucky couldn't keep his airway clear.

Steve had looked up pictures on the Internet, read the risks of nasogastric feeding tube versus an NG Tube. It reminded Steve of the Winter Soldier file Natasha had given him in the beginning, forcing Bucky's body to trundle on with machinery.

In low moments, he read the stories of families who had chosen to forgo invasive care for their loved ones. They had let them die. There's helpful FAQs that talk about palliative care and how with enough morphine, no one feels a thing as they slowly die.

Steve gets sick in the bathroom. There's supporting Bucky and loving Bucky and caring for him and every way - and then there's keeping him hostage in a body that has already failed.

He can't even think about it.

Thankfully, Bucky's gag reflex improves as time goes and the doctors write off the initial struggle to the dehydration and starvation he experienced before he came home.

Steve lives in fear of the day Bucky loses it again.

Calories

In the 1930s, Bucky was always trying to get Steve to eat more. He would sneak him food off his own plate, throw him an apple as he walked through the door, leave him the last cookie. There was never enough food so they ate what they could, when they could.

During the war, it was carefully portioned rations.

When Steve woke up, food had been different, wonderful.

Now, Steve has a careful log of everything that Bucky eats each day. Calories, protein, fats, sugars, amino acids, fiber. They all are marked carefully in little columns, totaling up to daily amounts.

Two chocolate protein shakes. A bowl of chicken broth. Soy based protein milk. A half of cup of applesauce. A bowl of chocolate ice cream. Juiced kale. A cup of regular milk. Two cans of Ensure. The list goes on and on.

There are weekly and daily vitamins. Vitamin A. Vitamin C. Calcium. Potassium. Omega3s. Sunshine each day for Vitamin D.

Steve sits with the kitchen staff at HQ once a week, planning out Bucky's meals. Each meal is carefully proportioned and formulated so Bucky's nutritional needs are adequately met.

If Bucky has trouble eating or ends up having a reaction to the food, it's carefully recorded and noted.

The kitchen staff also brings plates for Steve. Hamburgers and stews and pastas and steaks. Someone is telling them his favorite foods. Most of the time, they're taken back to the kitchen only half eaten.

This is so heartbreaking. :(

I can't wait to read more.

I may continue with this I may not but I did just want to say that this story was never meant to communicate that Bucky is less than or not worthy of the attention Steve is giving him. Or that Steve is wrong. The extent of his obsession and his lack of own self care is a problem, but it's not wrong. Which is what I was trying to show in the last two chapters.

I cared for a family member last year through the last months of their life. While they weren't as bad as Bucky until close to the end, I never for a moment thought that what I was doing wasn't worthwhile or meaningful or that they didn't deserve all of my efforts. (I'm sure this fic is some deep psychological way of coping with that but that's neither here nor there). Anyway, based on that experience, the last thing i would want to do is devalue the efforts of those who care for the disabled or the value of the disabled. If anything, what I wanted to do was the opposite.

I guess this is really a fill that some people have read very different ways. Personally, I really don't think this ever read like Steve was wrong with what he's doing, just about how heartbreaking the whole thing is for everyone. It's hard on Steve, and on the others, and maybe Steve doesn't handle it as healthily as he could, but he's not //wrong//. I'm sorry this thread has gotten so out of hand, but clearly some of the anons here have taken this story in a very different way than you intended it. I do hope you continue -- this is heartbreaking in a lot of ways, but personally, I think it's handled quite respectfully.

What they said. I'm really enjoying this fic and your exploration of Steve (the whole coping mechanisms of someone who is used to showing only their strong/stoic face to the world thing hits super close to home for me).

FWIW, the whole time I've been reading and loving on this fic (although I have not read the last part since I'm saving it for tonight) I've been thinking about how very much Bucky's life is valuable, regardless the Avengers' opinions of Steve's behaviour. I was the one who snarked at Tony for wanting to smother him, and I've been rooting for him the whole time in his enjoyment of those things that are pleasurable/meaningful to him in his current state. The fact that Bucky of old may not have wanted to live this life seems irrelevant when Bucky now has his own desires. To use a flippant example, I wanted to be a ballerina as a kid, but now that my life and experiences and even my body have changed, I don't want that anymore and no one thinks I should be forced into doing it. I don't know how that analogy would apply to someone who was genuinely incapable of feeling or wanting anything, but you have taken a lot of care to show that Bucky is not that person.

Honestly, I'm not sure this is even trash anymore, just very intense hurt/comfort. It's subverting the usual fandom expectations for these kinds of fics, in which Bucky would either make a miraculous recovery or face some kind of medical crisis in which Steve could give a DNR order and then painfully build a new life without him. Instead, we're seeing life, love and devotion with this kind of profound disability, along with Steve's own complex traumas and some definition ableism from supporting characters. I do dearly hope that, if writing this story is still enjoyable for you, that you continue, even if you decide to do it in a different venue.

Another anon jumping in to say yes, exactly this. Author!anon, I truly hope you will continue with your fill because clearly there are a number of us who have been enjoying it and have taken it in the spirit in which it was meant.

Seconding and/or thirding this. I really hope author!anon continues.

I'm the OP and I just have to say that I've been astounded by each and every single one of these stories, especially this one. My intention in the prompt was certainly not to suggest that disabled people are something horrific or to be discarded; neither was my intention for there to be any upset surrounding it. I feel the need to apologize for having sparked such an issue here on meme, as that was not what I was trying to do at all.

Author!anon, I do hope you'll continue to write this. I'm finding it fascinating and extremely well written.

I really hope you continue. I'm one of the people (who actually had experience taking care of a disabled relative) who enjoyed this story from the start, for what it's worth. Please don't be put off by people trying to shame you.

I wanted to take some time to think through my words before commenting. For me, I've recently had some people I'm very close to ask me to be one of the people who'd be responsible for pulling the plug if they ever ended up in a situation like Bucky's. I've been reading some of the stories in the light of how I hope I don't act, if that eventuality occurs with my own loved ones. I never did intend to imply with comments on this story or others that Bucky is not worth the love and devotion that Steve shows to him, and I am sorry to anyone I hurt if I did imply that. I do personally think Steve's actions in this story are unhealthy, but that could easily be colored by my own experiences.

Regardless, I hope you do continue this story. It was well written and heartbreaking in the best of ways, and I'd love to read more. I also understand if you don't, though, and I don't want to sound like I'm trying to pressure you. Just that I'd be happy to read more if you do write more.

Domestic h/c is my very favourite kind, and this is so serious and loving and detailed - I could read it for ages.

This is amazing and beautiful. It's really moving me. I've been crying gently but steadily most of the way through.

I left a comment on the first chapter saying how scared I was about where this story was going. I'm not any more. No matter what the outcome is, I trust you with it now.

I trust that you know that Steve is acting unhealthily in not tending to his own needs. And I also trust you in seeing the value in Bucky's life, even like this. Whether Steve ends up pulling the plug or continues to find moments with Bucky that keep him going... either way, this has been a completely unexpected and very appreciated story.

I know this hasn't been commented on in like 6 months but I thought I'd leave a comment anyway because this.. This is heartbreaking and amazing.

The thing for me, is fanbases crave representation of what they experience in their everyday lives in their movies/tv shows. For me this fic was exactly that. My dads side of the family including him, my brother, uncles, grandad etc have all had/have Huntington's chorea.

My dad actually is much like Bucky in this. He calls my mum "ammmma" rather than uu-ee though lol. Thing is, up until 5 years ago he was a competition level martial artist, a mathematician, and spoke four languages.

This fic was everything I could have wanted on the subject.

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

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