hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

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.

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

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They stayed in base two more days, but then they were off, the first snowflakes of the year swirling behind the truck. There was only so far the truck could take them, though, and then it was shank's mare, a phrase Peggy found unutterably silly.

When they stopped after the first day's walk, Steve raised his eyebrows at Peggy and she nodded. They pitched one tent a little out of the ring of the others, only a matter of a few feet but it lent something that bore a distant family resemblance to privacy, as long as they kept their voices down. There was sometimes a bit of ribbing when they retreated to the tent together, but it was not meanly meant.

Thus it was that she and Steve were both naked to the waist when James' voice rose in protest, loud but half-mumbled, "No, no, stop--"

"Bucky," Steve said urgently, and dove out of the tent. Peggy snatched up the first garment that came to hand, yanked it over her head, and followed him.

No one had been much asleep yet, and Morita hustled in from where he'd been pacing out his watch. Fortunately it had been James' turn to have a tent to himself--they were supposedly big enough for two but in Peggy's experience that only applied if the two were very friendly--and therefore he hadn't thrashed into a tentmate.

"Buck, Bucky, it's all right, wake up," Steve said, loud but calm, from where he knelt at the edge of James' bedroll. For most people it might have been unwise to touch a combat veteran in the grip of a nightmare, but Steve was fast enough to dodge the inevitable flailing return strike. "Bucky!"

Peggy could tell that James had woken because he froze. There was a pause, the night noises of the German forest paradoxically loud around them. Then James drew a ragged breath that Peggy could hear from where she stood and said, "Steve."

"Nightmare," Steve said, matter-of-fact. "You're OK now."

Behind Steve's bulk Peggy saw a motion that she interpreted as James scrubbing his hands over his face. "Well, I'm awake," he said, dry as dust. "OK, out of the way."

Steve shuffled obligingly back so that James could crawl out of the blankets and tent, then reach back in for his jacket. He shrugged into it as they both stood, and James at last seemed to notice that everyone was awake and watching. "What, you never saw a guy have a bad night before?"

"You keep us from getting any shut-eye, Sarge, you could be polite about it," Jones said lightly.

"Oh fuck you," James said in the same tone, and then, "Sorry, Peg."

"I've heard the word," Peggy said, and he made a face at her. In fact she'd heard him say it, or at least the German equivalent, repeatedly. Oh, this is going to be difficult, Peggy thought gloomily, as Steve looked between them with an expression of confusion.

"Peg," James said seriously, "why are you wearing Steve's shirt?"

*

Three days later, Peggy stepped away from the group. It had been a cold, miserable walk all morning, and she wanted to spend a few minutes pretending she was the only person in the world before she began beating her friends and companions about the head with whatever came to hand. She'd never been the kind of woman who spent three days incapacitated by her monthlies, but she couldn't deny they made her a little more irritable than usual.

She was through one cigarette and on to her second when someone came up behind her, deliberately walking heavily so she'd hear him coming; she glanced and found it was Jones, carrying a fag of his own. He leant against the next tree and lit the smoke, taking a deep drag before he said, "Couple years before the war started, there was a girl in my neighborhood. She had a run-in with a couple of White men. A bad run-in, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, Jones, not you too," Peggy said. "Do I have to personally convince every man in the bloody SSR that I'm fine?" So far Dum Dum, Monty and Dernier had cornered her, though at least they'd all accepted her reassurance when given it.

Jones waved his cigarette in a placating gesture and went on, "For months after, she was...jumpy. You didn't want to come up behind her if she didn't know you were there, and if you touched her when she didn't expect it you were taking your life in your hands." Peggy raised her eyebrows. He seemed to take the Get to the point as read. "You've been fine. Sarge though--he's jumpy. I went to wake him up for his watch last night and he almost took my head off, literally. I don't even know where he was keeping the knife." He pulled on the fag again. "Does Cap know?"

"I'm sure James is perfectly capable of telling Steve anything he needs to know," Peggy said evenly.

"OK," said Jones at last. "I suppose Cap doesn't need another thing to worry about."
He studied the glowing tip of his cigarette thoughtfully. "But he's not stupid, Agent Carter. I wouldn't count on keeping him in the dark forever."

*

The Hydra base was dispiritingly empty when they got there, with signs that the emptying had been hasty. Hydra had a number of standard base layouts, though of course they always differed in detail once you were inside; this was the one Steve thought of as squares-in-rows, a large central building with parallel hallways lined with square rooms.

They spread out to search once it was clear there were no personnel to worry about. Steve jogged along the hallways over and over, checking in with everyone in turn.

He was halfway down the hall that had the detention room in it when he heard a choking noise. Steve broke into a run immediately, wondering what new kind of Hydra booby trap Bucky had stumbled into, because this was Bucky's hall, though Peggy had tried to take it.

Steve swung into the guardroom. The door that led into the tiny cell block stood open, and through it Steve could just see Bucky's back. He was bent forward, arms wrapped tight across his stomach. The metal stench of blood hung thick in the air.

"Buck, you OK?" Steve asked, and Bucky startled and spun like he hadn't heard Steve coming, which was a little weird because he'd always had better ears than Steve's--not, admittedly, difficult before the serum--and only moreso since Steve had gotten to Europe.

Bucky's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "There's someone in here," he said, his voice thready. "Dead. Not long."

"Damn it," Steve said. He moved forward to peer through the door. A man's body lay in the first cell on the left-hand side. He was short and wiry, naked, not even his dog tags if he'd worn any, and he'd bled to death from..."Those filthy bastards," Steve said bitterly. At least when a woman was forced, she was built to accept the intrusion with relatively little damage; it took a lot more work to ensure a man didn't get hurt, and from the looks of it the Hydra men had done no work at all. "I'll see if I can find something to cover him up." Bucky nodded mutely and Steve laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. Are you OK? I know you've been feeling rough these last few days."

"Yeah," Bucky said on a long breath. "I just...Steve. This could have been me."

"They wouldn't've killed you that quick, not when you might know something," Steve said, and essayed a grin. "Turned out you didn't need my help, anyway. You had 'em on the ropes."

"Peggy did," said Bucky, and though the smirk he produced was faint it looked sincere. "I swear, Rogers, if you let that dame get away I'm gonna marry her myself."

"Fat chance, do I look stupid to you?"

Bucky looked him up and down and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

"Jerk," Steve said.

*

They camped in one of the outbuildings because it had started to snow in earnest, and examined their haul of papers and supplies. There wasn't much, but Peggy had found a file, missed in the hasty emptying of a cabinet drawer, that was an absolute gold mine. Amid a welter of personnel records--useful, if not vital--lurked a few mentions of higher-level Hydra assets.

Including Arnim Zola's itinerary for the next month.

Peggy knew her baring of teeth bore very little resemblance to a smile, and when she looked at James his expression matched exactly.

I love both interactions with Peggy/Jones and Steve/Bucky and dear lord this is heartbreaking.

YASSSSS GABE!!!!!! <3333

And jeez Steve still being clueless. ::bops him on the head::

(And what's that about women being built to make it less painful??? D: Steve, really?)

Well vagina's do...lubricate. Anuses do not.

Vaginas aren't necessarily gonna lubricate during a rape, though. And a dry vagina will tend to, you know. Tear.

They can just as a physical response, though.

Asses *never* can.

That's not to claim that "one rape is better than the other", but one is almost certain to cause physical damage while the other might not.

Also, Steve is a good and decent man who has no sexual experience with women that doesn't involve him looking like a Greek god. Every vagina he's ever encountered has been extremely enthusiastic about the prospect. As far as he knows, they're just like that.

And yes: it's not that it's better for a woman to get raped; it's just that she has a better chance of coming out of it relatively undamaged physically. If someone's going to be shoving things into your body, pick the orifice that's at least nominally intended for such things to happen.

Yup. Hence my "Steve, really?" is mostly a "Steve, you've really thought about that *this little*?"

Yeah, as a possessor of both a vagina and an anus I know that one lubricates and the other doesn't, and that one is designed to take a penis and the other isn't, but ...

(a) lubrication, in my experience, is varied, even in the same person. And sometimes the very same physical or emotional stimulant might cause a lot of lubrication or zero

(b) since vaginas lengthen only when aroused, you hit the cervix pretty quickly otherwise, which is painful

(c) perineum tearing still happens and hurts like a fuck

I guess I agree with Steve that making anal not-painful takes a lot more prep than vaginal sex. I mostly take issue with the way it's worded that makes it sound like rape is less painful for a woman, because of "natural defenses" or something. (Sorry -- I've heard that sort of stuff from too many American politicians, like "women have a natural defense against getting pregnant from rape" or whatever.)

Well, to a certain extent he has a point; the whole purpose of a vagina is to have a penis go into it. But yeah, Steve's...being dumb. If for no other reason than that it has completely gone past him that anyone might fuck a woman somewhere other than her vagina.

Nightmares!! <3 Also, Steggy!

I can't believe Steve saw a male prisoner raped to death, heard Bucky identify with him, and didn't put the pieces together. Oh god, I hope he figures it out before Bucky falls off the train. Or do I? It will be so so painful if it's only after Bucky dies that Steve figures out he spent the last few months of Bucky's life ignoring how much pain he was in.

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Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

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