Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

[trashmod]

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, 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] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

Comments

FILL: Cheaters Never Prosper (2/5+1)

[(Anonymous)]

Ten days earlier, Bucky sat awkwardly on the edge of his bed. Beds were new. He'd been at home for a week now, and he still found beds strange, but he was expected to use them. His hands were clenched in the quilt. He looked at the floor, trying to find the words to argue. The problem was that Steve always sounded so reasonable when he wanted something, even when it was something entirely unfair.

"It won't be for long." Steve wheedled at him. "Just a brief little check up, to see what can be done about your arm."
Bucky didn't answer. He might not want to say anything that counteracted Steve's wishes, but he could express his own disdain. Steve sighed.

"Look, Bucky. I can tell it's causing you pain. If you really don't want to go, I won't force you, but I think you should go there. I'll be there the whole time, if that would help."
Bucky knew when he had lost an argument. If he said no, the pressure would keep on coming, and anyway he wasn't meant to say no. Saying no was bad. Saying no led to more punishment.

Feeling sick, he nodded.

Walking down to the lab felt familiar. He had walked down to many different labs, but they always caused the same cold feeling in his chest. He was going to be examined next. Steve's footsteps echoed on the floor beside him, and he fought the urge to gag. Steve was walking with him. That was a positive.

The door to the lab opened, revealing Tony. Tony didn't dress like a lab technician or a doctor. Tony was the loudest man he had met in the building. He talked a lot, and didn't seem to say much. He was smiling. That wasn't often a good sign.

"How are you feeling today Robocop?" Tony asked. Bucky said nothing, letting his disdain show through. Tony laughed, and Bucky's insides twisted.

Steve sat beside him at a workbench, littered with screws and screwdrivers. Tony had a machine run some scans, and feed back the information. Discussion carried on, going over Bucky's head a little until Tony started work on the arm.

He fought to hold the plates still as they were carefully lifted, Tony muttering about the condition of the wires and the weight of the metal. Tony sounded annoyed, and he couldn't concentrate on that. Instead, he looked at what was on the table.

Beside his little finger, there was a small screwdriver, tiny enough to fit into the palm of his hand. It was the kind of thing used for the tiniest levels of maintenance, undoing the smallest of screws. It had a red handle, with a metal body. He flexed his finger, knocking into it, and it rolled over. He poked it harder, and it rolled down towards the edge of the table.

It teetered on the edge for a moment before it fell down, landing on his leg and slipping to the side, pinned between his leg and the wall. He glanced up at Tony and Steve.

They hadn't noticed.

The examination took over an hour. Through it all, he had his leg pressed against the wall, pinning the screwdriver in place. He was asked questions, and said what he had to in response, but otherwise he disengaged as best as he could. He wasn’t needed during maintenance. Finally it was over and he was released.

As he stood, his hand slipped down and grabbed the screwdriver, and he walked out of the room with it tucked against his palm and held in place with his thumb. His heart was racing.
"So what did you think of it?" Steve asked.
"I think he seems confident." Bucky answered, not entirely sure what had been decided upon. But his answer made Steve laugh.

"He has good reason to be confident, don't worry. We'll get that arm sorted, he's going to have a fibreglass prototype by the end of the week."
Bucky hoped he didn't need that screwdriver.

All the way to his room, he expected his deception to be discovered, but it was not. When left alone, he lay down in his bed, and carefully dug the screwdriver into the frame. It would be easier to sleep here now that he knew it was a symbol to his own little act of rebellion.