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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Living with Steve was amazing. He was patient, and kind, and he never pushed too far at the memories that Bucky hadn't yet scrabbled back from the edge. He would be his old self - he was tactile, and his hands were always on Bucky - resting on his arm or patting his back, or even resting on his thigh as they cuddled on the couch. Steve liked contact.

Bucky wasn't that keen on contact, but he understood it was necessary. Better, after a few days where the contact hadn't led to more, he was able to see that Steve wasn't touching him as a prelude to pushing him down to the floor and having sex with him. He was just touching him because he liked contact, and Bucky wasn't enough of a bastard to deprive Steve of that.

He was making pancakes, and running a problem over in his mind. Steve had been asking a little recently, about Hydra. The first week, graphic descriptions of the murders he had performed to order had been enough to make Steve silent, aside from a squeeze to his arm and a "it wasn't your fault". Steve said that Bucky could tell him anything, and so far he had reacted kindly to everything he had been told.

But some of it was different. He understood that. It wasn't that Steve was a prude - just that it was one thing to accept that your friend had been brainwashed and made to kill, and another entirely to accept that he had rolled over for every Hydra agent who had asked. Steve was the best thing Bucky had ever had, in any stage of his life, and he needed to find a way of keeping him. Losing Steve wasn't an option, not again. Death would come first, if it had to.

Still, there was no need to do anything so drastic because Steve was poking around and asking about his time with Hydra. It wasn't even that he was opposed to telling him. Those arm squeezes and the promise it wasn't his fault that he had killed so many had been nice. He just had to do it right. He couldn't make a mistake. If he asked for help, expecting those touches, and instead Steve was repulsed, he would be ruined. He had nightmares about Steve finding some of the photographs or film, and telling Bucky he was disgusting. Or worse, of him finding out and never wanting to touch Bucky again. That would destroy him.

So he decided that he would find a way of testing it. To work out what Steve's response would be. If Steve responded acceptably, then he would be able to tell him, but if Steve was repulsed or angry, it would mean he couldn't push any further, that he couldn't ask any more questions. He just needed to work out how to ask.

He could start by talking about being groped perhaps. How sometimes when he was half-asleep in a transport the person sitting next to him would reach out and slide their hand into his pants - or more likely take his hand and put it in theirs. But the problem was that groping never was enough for them, and it wouldn't be long after that he was kneeling in the back of the jeep, hair streaked with filth and jaw aching. He didn't want to have to explain that. If Steve had seen him like that, surely he would have been revolted.

But part of Bucky hoped. Part of Bucky thought that telling the truth might lead to kindness rather than pain, and that part of him ached to tell Steve. Sometimes he worried Steve suspected, when he jumped when he was touched, or when he woke in the night screaming to find Steve in the room holding him down, stopping him lashing out. He wanted to say and be understood, to be forgiven for all the wrong he had done. But he couldn't risk being found out.

This thought had kept him up for a couple of days, with no resolution in sight. He headed to the gym, knowing that punching something that wouldn't fight back might at least start to untangle the anger and confusion in his stomach.

Natasha was already there, midway through a routine. Her movements were just as graceful as they had been with a child. She didn't look up as he took his position at the bag, and an idea began to form. It would be possible to tell Steve without risking everything, as long as he didn't know exactly what he was being told.

Steve was the best thing Bucky had ever had . . . and he needed to find a way of keeping him.

THAT'S OKAY, I DIDN'T NEED MY HEART ANYWAY

Help, this is so good. Bucky's fears feel rational, and the (terrible) decision you're setting him up to make is going to feel like a logical solution. I love how Steve's sensitivity and tenderness come across so clearly, even from Bucky's POV. Beautiful start!

"Steve wasn't touching him as a prelude to pushing him down on the floor and having sex with him." Omg you're a great person

[WHALE NOISES]

I'm so glad you decided to do this prompt!

I am so excited to see where this goes!

(OP) This is an amazing start! You've set up Bucky's Terrible Decision quite well already, and I so love Bucky's conflict between possibilities; his terror of rejection and humiliation vs his need for understanding and comfort. My sad baby. I'm so excited you're filling this.

(Author!Anon)Thank you for your lovely comment! It really made me smile. Glad to see I've got some positive feedback so far - just hope you carry on enjoying it :)

Bucky headed to the shower, mind feeling lighter than it had in weeks as everything began to slip into place. He could talk to Steve, tell him everything he had to, without risking his anger. He would explain it as having happened to Natasha in Red Room. If Steve reacted as kindly as Bucky hoped he would, there would be no problem. He could tell him it all, and if he wasn't disgusted then he could then tell him the truth. If he wasn't kind, if he was angry or disgusted, Bucky would drop it - Natasha was a fighter, and Steve would never stay angry at her for long, they were too good friends for that.

He rinsed off under the lukewarm water, planning. He wouldn't betray Natasha. He wouldn't mention anything that he had actually seen under her time at Red Room - those memories were Natasha's, not his own. What had happened then had been different from what had happened to him - when the highest ranking officers had taken her to bed as part of her training, it had been like when he took his best rifle to the range. Putting her through her paces, seeing what she could do, but always with respect. Always with the knowledge that the girl above would be able to kill you in a moment if she chose. Those memories weren't his to touch, and he would leave them alone.

The memories he could use were his own. He dried himself and pulled on comfortable clean clothes, heading back to the suite of rooms he had been given. He checked everything was as he left it, then headed across to Steve's room, knocking smartly with his metal hand.

"It's open!" Called Steve, his voice slightly muffled. Internally rolling his eyes at Steve's lack of security, Bucky stepped inside and smiled to see Steve sat on the couch, holding two pencils in his mouth as he worked on a sketch. It didn't matter how many times he saw Steve like that, it always made him smile. He pointed towards the sketch pad, and Steve twisted it around, spitting out the pencils to grin.

The pencil drawing on the page was of them before, the two of them embracing as the commandos looked on. There were smiles on all the faces, and Steve was holding him close. He felt his throat start to close up, even though he knew it was foolish. These were his friends. He had no right to think like that, to remember the Strike Team circling as whoever was first took their turn with him. He was dressed in the picture. It was different.
"Buck?" Steve asked. "You have gone pale. Buck...sit down, look, I'll get you some water..."

The water was cool and he could sip it, earning a little more time to think. He smiled shyly at Steve.
"It's a good picture. I remember that day. It was raining."
"We were in Europe Buck. It was always raining." Steve teased, but there was no denying the way he was smiling. "Jarvis told me you were at the gym earlier. You want to spar some time?"

Bucky hesitated. Sparring might be fun, and it let Steve touch him, but there was always the chance he could mistake his own strength and really hurt Steve. Hurting Steve would be the worst thing he could ever imagine, worse than even being left. He nodded quickly, planning to be careful and not fight at full strength.
“Not today though.” He mumbled.

"Are you okay?" Steve frowned, and Bucky realised this was his opening. He licked his lips, swallowing dryly.
"I was watching Natasha train."
"She's really something, isn't she?" Steve asked, and there was admiration there, that of a man who was proud of his team even when they weren't perfect. "What about her..." He paused and laughed slightly. "Don't tell me you're getting sweet on her."

"I saw her naked." Bucky said, and Steve opened his mouth, probably to scold him for watching her in the shower. "I saw that bullet wound I made."
"It wasn't your fault Bucky. She said you spared her, that you could have killed her but you did it with minimal damage-" Steve always had an answer to everything, never blamed Bucky. It was that which drove him to carry on.

"Not now. I saw her naked a long time ago." He licked his lips and swallowed, looking down at the floor. "There were men with her."
"In Red Room?" Steve asked, his voice starting to shake.

Bucky nodded, knowing he was locking himself into a game with no idea how it would play out.

[W]hen the highest ranking officers had taken her to bed as part of her training, it had been like when he took his best rifle to the range. Putting her through her paces, seeing what she could do, but always with respect.

I really, really like this image. Beautifully evocative.

Aww, Bucky nooooooo. This is such a bad plan. I love the little details though about how he thinks Natasha could handle herself against Steve and of course Steve wouldn't stay mad at Natasha if he was disgusted by the rape stories. The way he viewed Natasha's rapes, too, was kind of heartbreaking for both of them. He doesn't even view it as rape, it was just training and respectful, and ouch there goes my heart. Also, given that Natasha was actually raped in the Red Room, she is going to feel *so violated* when she finds out what Bucky is doing, regardless of the fact that he's not actually telling her stories.

Re: Fill: Giving the Blame (2/?)

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-26 23:38 (UTC) - Expand

Gah, it's like watching a wreck in slow motion. (So of course I love love it :)

I like how - intentionally or unintentionally - there's already this air of sexuality, even though nothing happens.

TBH I could ship Bucky with either Steve or Nat (or both) in this one, and it's going to be a beautiful mess all in all.

(OP) Oh gosh, Steve and Bucky are so cute, and Steve is so sweetly supportive, and I feel Bucky's relief at finally getting to divulge his pain. But at the same time, it really is such a terrible idea. The way he thinks about Natasha's own rapes is so painful! She may not have been passed around the way he was, but it was still rape; and he thinks he's protecting her real secrets, but he truly is violating her.

I seriously loved the moment where Steve shows him a drawing of his teammates and Bucky's immediate association is to his STRIKE team closing in on him. I'm so weak for trash that corrupts the positive memories that came before it.

Steve's lips pressed together, angry for a moment, and he nodded.
"Alright, Buck... you... you sure you want to discuss this?"
"I'm certain." Bucky said softly. "I tried hiding it but I can't sleep."

"You can't..." Steve looked at him and frowned. "This what's been keeping you awake?"
"Yeah." Bucky whispered, and Steve nodded, sitting down beside him. Bucky realised that he probably wanted to touch again, so he quickly obliged, cuddling up against Steve's side. Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and Bucky felt himself relax.

This wasn't the disaster he'd been expecting. Steve was being patient, holding onto him and trying to reassure him.
"Alright." Steve said softly, stroking his hair. "If it's bothering you that much, we can talk about it. How do you want to do this?"

"I like you holding me." Bucky said softly. Bucky was comfortable here, safe here. Steve smiled at him, and Bucky tried to smile back.

"Okay. If me holding you helps make things easier, we can do that. So...is it seeing her fighting that's upsetting you?"
"Yeah." Bucky swallowed. "I mean... not her fighting. She's made so much of her life. She's a hero. I'm proud of her, that's not... don't ever think that I'm not proud. I just remember." Inwardly, Bucky cursed himself. He was letting too much of Natasha into this. Natasha was worth being proud of, that was true, but he wasn't. He had to focus on what happened to him, not to her. Anything else would be unfair.

"Okay. You tell me whatever you need to Buck. I'm right here to listen."
"She... was always popular." He began. "Men were always using her, not that she didn't deserve -"
"What?" Steve asked, frowning a little. "She didn't deserve anything that happened to her."

"She killed people." Bucky shrugged. "She did what Red Room wanted for everything else, right? And that was at least partially her choice. Why would this be any different?"
Steve's face did something funny, and he was silent for a little while before he spoke.
"Bucky, she didn't deserve it. No matter what she had done, it wasn't her fault. No one is... is ever to blame for something like that happening to them." Steve said softly. "And she didn't have any choice on the murders. So you can't turn around and use them as a reason for everything else that happened. It's not how this works."

Bucky nodded, smiling at him a little to himself. This was going well so far. This was what he had needed to hear, to have Steve hold him close and say that despite everything he had done wrong, it didn't make it his fault.

"Okay." He said softly, needing it to be true. "Okay. She didn't deserve it... but it still happened, a lot." He squirmed, hands tensing into fists. He just had to work out what to say. "Does that mean she didn't deserve it even when... one of the handlers, he gave her some chocolate sometimes. So she didn't mind... doing things for him. It wasn't... like the rest of it. She wanted chocolate."

"That wasn't right either Bucky. She didn't have any kind of real choice..." Steve paused. "Does that mean the two of you can't be close now? If it's a problem..."
"It's not a problem." Bucky said quickly, able to taste the chocolate he had had a life time ago as though it was yesterday. It was painfully sweet, making his teeth ache after all the years. But it was better than the gruel he normally ate. "It's good to...to hear that. I had been wondering about that at times."

"Natasha... was under a very difficult situation." Steve said softly. "I don't know too much about it. I haven't asked. It wasn't my place. But it wasn't her fault."

"Then should I have stopped it?" Bucky said. "I knew it was happening..." As he said that, he thought back to all of the guards standing around, laughing and watching even if they weren't going to take their turn. He could feel their gaze, staring at him, making his skin itch.

"It wasn't your fault Bucky. You didn't have any more choice than she did there, they were controlling you." He was rubbing Bucky's shoulder now, the human one. Bucky thought of those guards, expected to be there, expected to watch. Laughing. Nothing different from what he was saying to Steve. It wasn't their fault. It had been good for morale to watch him bleed, that was all. He took a deep breath, and nodded once more.

"I... I suppose..."
"Whatever they made you do." Steve said softly and Bucky looked down, focussing on leaning into his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."
"Thanks." Bucky forced his smile, considering his options. So far, his response had been balanced. Some of it was encouraging. Other bits far less so, but at least he was finding out what Steve thought safely. This way, no one got hurt. "Can...can I talk to you about what I saw? It's been keeping me awake."

Oh, oww, Bucky. I cannot wait to read more of this.

I'm wondering, in this universe, does nat actually know about Bucky's abuse? It seems like she could/would? That could make it all the more of a shitstorm when things come to light.

Re: Fill: Giving the Blame (3/?)

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-27 22:28 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Giving the Blame (3/?)

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-28 13:13 (UTC) - Expand

(OP) :( This is still a heartwrenching mixture of sweet and terrible. I love the image of Steve holding Bucky as Bucky divulges all this trashiness, and then Bucky thinks something like "Natasha was worth being proud of, that was true, but he wasn't" and it's heartbreaking again. And it's great that Steve manages to reassure Bucky that nothing was "Natasha's" fault, but he's so intent on absolving his brainwashed best friend of not intervening that he accidentally absolves the sadists who watched and laughed instead. It's so sad that Bucky just doesn't see the difference between him and them. They were there by choice. They could have left the sidelines at any time. If his story were true, he wouldn't have been, and he couldn't've.

There was a moment of silence, and Bucky thought Steve was going to say no. All kinds of emotions and thoughts were making their way across his face in a confused jumble, but after a few seconds had passed Steve nodded, swallowing and setting his jaw.

It was an expression Bucky recognised from when they were children. This was Steve's face for when he was squaring up to a fight with someone far stronger and more powerful than he was, knowing he would be hurt but not willing to back down. It was an odd expression for sitting together, cuddled up on the couch.
"You tell me whatever you need to Bucky. If you'll sleep better after talking about it, that's okay. Tell me whatever helps..." And as he said that, Steve's hands rubbed at Bucky's shoulders, taking away some of the stress. That felt nice. He closed his eyes and relaxed at the touch, wondering if maybe this wasn't so bad. He could tell him everything and if Steve still wasn't angry or disgusted, he could tell him the truth.

He took a deep breath.
"They..." He swallowed, trying to work out which of his memories he needed to discuss. He wouldn't talk about what happened to Natasha - that would be wrong. It wasn't his place to discuss it. Natasha had always been given respect. But what happened to him, well, that was why he was here. "They never saw her as a person. She was just a thing, there, for them to use. A warm body I guess... they laughed, called her all sorts of names..." He bit back the words that had been used. The hissed mutters that he was just a hole, just a toy, that he was worthless, that this was what he was made for.

"That wasn't right Bucky." Steve said softly, and his hands were still rubbing Bucky's shoulders. Bucky closed his eyes. "She didn't deserve that."
"Yeah..." Bucky swallowed, dryly. "Just... if they got bored, they'd hurt her. If we were...if we were in a truck, for a long journey..." He thought of a few months ago, when the strike team had been heading out west for a mission. "They'd have her strip. They'd probably start by touching her, but then they'd... it'd get more. They'd use her mouth...or.. or you know, the rest of her..." He swallowed again, and Steve's grip around his shoulder was firmer now, grounding him, keeping him away from that truck, from those nightmares. "They used to just chat while they were doing it. Like, about sports and stuff. She was just...just there..." He risked a glance at Steve.

Steve's expression had gone past preparing for a punch now. He looked like he had been hit, his eyes dark, but he caught Bucky looking and he smiled.
"That wasn't her fault... God..." He whistled through his teeth. "I had no idea. She does a good job of hiding it. She's an amazing woman, I always knew that..."

Bucky frowned. Natasha was amazing, but he wasn't. He'd let it happen, let them use him.
"I saw..."
"And Buck, that wasn't your fault either. You didn't choose to be there."

He thought of the other men in the truck, Rollins snorting when Rumlow had him strip, muttering about the fact that the asset might make a mess. He could hear Rumlow calling back, promising that it wouldn't be allowed, and then Rollins calling him over once Rumlow was finished. It wasn't like Rollins had set out to hurt him. He'd just been there when it had started. That was true of so many of them. Normally it'd only be one or two who really went for it, and the others would use him because he was already there. He shuddered.

"She used to cry." He spat, remembering the heat of tears running down his face. "Used to sob and whine and it was...it was disgusting. They'd kick her for it, yell at her, call her pathetic..." He was trembling now, rocking slightly in Steve's grasp. Steve held him close.

"Bucky, she was hurting. It wasn't her fault. I know it must have been scary to see, especially when you cared about her, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't her fault that she was crying, you understand that right? I’ve cried before when I get injured on missions, and that’s just physical pain, that’s not fear as well.”

Bucky nodded, feeling his eyelids prickling again. He refused to cry now, to start to sob when he wasn't even injured. Steve looked almost angry with him, but he was still touching him gently so he couldn't have been that angry.

"It...I didn't like it."
"I know." Steve said softly. "I know..." And the way he said it, Bucky thought he was trying to end the conversation. But there was worse. Worse that he had to go over.

"The...The...Polkovnik, he used to really hurt her. For hours, or days, he'd have her chained up, cut her, and as he got older he hurt her worse and she'd be such a mess and I..." He thought of his own body hanging from the wall in Pierce's basement, close to collapse, his toes just about able to reach the floor, legs streaked with his own blood. He had screamed himself hoarse long ago. "She never fought back. And I never saved her."

"She ... you couldn't have done anything Bucky. Neither of you could have." Steve promised. Bucky thought of Rumlow, walking in, laughing with Pierce about the state of him. Remembered Pierce pointing at him and telling Rumlow to take a turn. Then he'd walked over and the pain had got worse. Rumlow had just been following orders.

"Buck..." Steve's voice sounded anguished. "None of it was your fault..." He guided Bucky into his arms. Bucky wasn't sure when he had started crying. He wasn't sure when he'd be able to stop.

Amazing work! I can't wait for shit to hit the fan :)

But...wait a sec, Bucky keeps talking as if he's Rumlow when he's pretending what happened to him happened to Nat. So his memory with Pierce and Rumlow...does that mean Bucky is going to tell Steve he "took a turn" with Nat? I can't even fathom what sort of emotions that would bring forth in Steve.

(OP) I feel so bad for Steve in this chapter. This is such painful stuff to be privy to, and the way he's hearing it makes it so much worse. He has to worry about Bucky's obvious agony and about Natasha's and Natasha didn't even give him permission to know this, so it must be so difficult for Steve all around, and he's still being so great. I love your description of him squaring up to the challenge while comforting Bucky.

The memories Bucky details are absolutely horrible and also absolutely in line with my trash passion for Bucky being dehumanized and belittled during his rapes, like his impression that for some of the men he was just a possibly-distasteful object to relieve their boredom on. Wonderful! I love how Steve accidentally reinforces that, and that, even when he's being so good about shifting the blame away from "Natasha," Bucky has difficulty accepting it. Because he sees Natasha as a hero, and he can't see himself that way.

Also Bucky's disgust with himself for crying in the past -- and then he ends up crying in the present day. So good <3

There was no way that Bucky could deny Steve's actions towards Natasha had changed as a result of what he had said, and it only confirmed his initial fears. After his first tearful confession, things had felt like they were improving, but that had been short lived. It hadn't taken long for him to realise that lying had been the better choice, but at least he hadn’t ruined his relationship with Steve to discover it.

The two of them had gone to eat lunch, and then headed to the gym. Natasha had been there, running through one of her training routines, throwing herself across the mats at high speed. Bucky paused to watch, smiling with pride, and Steve stood beside him. Steve's hand had squeezed Bucky's shoulder, and they had gone to train themselves in the boxing ring.

Bucky still couldn't get over how easily Steve moved now, the way he fitted in this body as he never had before. It was easy to fight him now, knowing that Stark's AI would ensure that Steve never got injured.

Their conversation was replaying in his mind. Steve's gentle consolation, his repetition that Natasha wasn't to blame for her tears - that it hadn't been Bucky's fault when he had screamed, or even begged... but the fact it hadn't been the Strike team's fault either. They had just been following orders. It probably hadn't been pleasant for them either and they had gone along with it. Steve couldn't blame them. The only one he might blame would be Pierce, and even Pierce had been given control over Bucky with clear expectations about what he could be used for.

He was knocked to the floor by one of Steve's blows, and came back to the present with Steve standing over him. Steve reached down and helped him back to his feet.
"You okay there Buck?"
"Just thinking..."

Steve's gaze drifted over to where Natasha was training, and he nodded.
"Let's get you a glass of water Bucky, then we can head up stairs..."
He sipped the water when it was handed to him, seeing Steve smiling at him sadly.

Eventually his glass was drained, and they headed back to their room. Steve squeezed his shoulder again.
"Must be a lot to think about."
"Yeah."
"She's done so well." Steve said softly. "She's so brave, to keep going and not let anyone see..."
"Yeah." Bucky muttered, his insides twisting at those words. Natasha had done well, but he wouldn't let Steve see what had happened to him. He felt naked enough with Steve just thinking he had seen what had happened.

The next few days, Steve was careful around Natasha, more of a gentleman than normal - always fetching her a drink if he got one for himself, holding open doors with her, checking she was alright after sparring sessions. It was as though he wanted to protect her from what he thought had come before.

The thought of Steve taking care of him like that left Bucky feeling strange. On the one hand, he imagined that it would feel nice to be treated so kindly, to be shown such patience. On the other, he didn't want Steve to guard every word around him. He was pretty sure that he'd made the right choice.

Now, the team were in the middle of a training sim, Banner on the outside watching and making notes as the rest of them rallied against Stark's latest engineered foe - no harm would be done to anyone, but it gave them a chance to practice manoeuvres. Bucky was sitting this one out as well, staying a safe distance from the doctor. Normally he joined in, but he'd been too busy thinking recently to be able to face this kind of exertion. He watched as Natasha sliced her way through the air, her movements fluid, and saw her duck as Steve's shield skimmed above her head, removing another threat. The robot fell to the floor, and the simulation ended.

Steve grinned around at the rest of the team, retrieving his shield, patting them on the back and shaking hands. He turned to Natasha, his hand held out, and then seemed to think better of it, dropping it to his side.

Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at him coldly.
"What?" She hissed, her voice like ice. Bucky could feel his own heartbeat start to race. Steve swallowed, rubbing at his neck and smiling, trying to find an excuse that would work, but Natasha was a trained spy. She paused, looking around, then walked up to him and poked him in the chest.
"You better start explaining yourself pretty soon. You've been acting strange all week."

Inside the observation room, Bucky felt bile rise in his throat.

Re: Fill: Giving the Blame (5/8)

(Anonymous) - 2016-02-07 09:37 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Giving the Blame (5/8)

(Anonymous) - 2016-02-09 22:56 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Giving the Blame (5/8)

(Anonymous) - 2016-02-13 21:58 (UTC) - Expand

Steve glanced at the others, then back at Natasha, and shook his head.
"I can't." He said softly. "Not here."
Watching through the window, Bucky felt his guts twist in terror.

Natasha pressed her lips together for a moment, but she nodded, leaning in and whispering into his ear. Steve nodded, and they separated, heading off to the showers. Bucky was sad he had missed the fight, and this time he couldn't even be grateful he didn't have to undress near the team. He was too aware of Natasha, too busy trying to work out what would happen now.

He didn't want it to go wrong, but he was starting to think it already had. Steve had treated Natasha differently, shown her the distance that should have been aimed at him, and that left him shaking.

He jumped slightly as a mug of coffee was placed down in front of him by the doctor. He looked at Banner in confusion, but Banner was already back at his workstation. It took him a couple of moments to decide to drink the hot liquid. It was fresh, the heat of it burning his tongue, and for a second the pain helped him to forget his fear. Then he saw the others leaving the showers, pulling on their clothes - Barton first, still half-undressed as he walked away. Then Stark, busy gesturing to the AI that watched his every move, and then Falcon. There was a pause, before Steve emerged, walking beside Natasha. Thor would be a while yet.

Bucky thought through his options. He could go to them, beg for forgiveness, but doing so would reveal too much. So his other option was to do nothing. To let them talk, and damn whatever happened next. He couldn't imagine Steve would tell her the details... He had to follow. They had taken the elevator to Steve's floor - somewhere neutral. The team went there often for post-mission debriefs and drinks. It wasn't Natasha's sanctuary, but it was his own, and Steve's. It was an act of kindness, he could tell that. So Natasha’s space wouldn’t be violated by what was to come.

But he needed to know what he would be facing. He hurtled up the stairs, and as he approached the door it let itself open. He raised a hand in thanks to the AI, and made his way into the apartment, walking silently.

He could see Agent Romanoff, standing by a table, her knives set out in front of her. She was cleaning them. At the other side of the table, with his back to the door Bucky had entered by, was Steve. Romanoff looked at Bucky when he entered, but she gave no outward sign of having seen him.

"I'm sorry." Steve said softly. "I didn’t mean to upset you." The sincerity in Steve's voice hurt Bucky's chest, especially when he was suddenly painfully aware he was the cause of it. He curled in on himself slightly as the discussion continued.

"You haven't upset me. You have concerned me. You have been treating me differently the last week. Like I am made of eggshell. Now either you are beginning to question whether I belong on this team, or there is something else which you are not telling me."

There was a pause, and Steve sighed out, his breath loud in the quiet room.
"Bucky told me."

"Told you what?" Natasha asked, her gaze going to where Bucky was standing.
"About what happened to you in Red Room. About what he saw those men do..."

"He was an assigned body guard to some of the officers. He saw what he saw." She shrugged. "It does not bother me."

"He said that they...hurt you."
"Of course they hurt me Rogers. They wanted me able to resist torture. That works a lot easier if someone is used to pain."

Bucky was glad he couldn't see the emotions crossing Steve's face at those words. He could hear the pain in Steve's voice though, and that was enough to make him feel almost dizzy.
"They ...forced you to sleep with them."
"And they forced me to kill and they forced me to go days without sleep and they forced me to cut my hair and they forced me to learn English and they..." She laughed softly. "You wouldn't send any of us out into the field to try a new move without giving us the chance to practice it first. It was the same for them."

"Nat..." Steve's voice sounded soft, shaking a little. "You can't think that it was... I mean, what he described... that they would hurt you because you were bored... groups of them... He said he saw you crying, and you've been so brave, but that wasn't right...Natasha, that was wrong. You can’t make excuses for it. That was so wrong, you didn't deserve-"

Steve fell silent, because Natasha had reached out, pressing one finger to Steve's lips. He shivered slightly, watching her.
"He is confused." She said softly, looking beyond Steve to where Bucky stood in silent horror. "They never did that. They did not want me to fear sex. It would have been no good for them, for the Red Room girls to fear being touched. We would not have worked efficiently. They trained me in sex, like they trained me to fight. The only time I cried was when I was told to. The only time Barnes saw me like that was when he was told to practice with me."

Steve said nothing for a few moments, and Natasha was silent, then she frowned a little and straightened up.
"I know you are trying to help Cap. But I don't need it. Whatever Barnes told you? They never did that." She bent, gathering up her knives, and then walking away. She paused at the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. "Not to me."

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Bucky waited for a moment, feeling a little sick. He thought about running away, but he knew that wouldn't work. Steve knew now that he had lied, and he was going to be in trouble.

He could have run away. He could slip away before Steve found him. He could ... delay the inevitable for a few minutes, maybe a few hours. And then it would end. And any hope that had happened before was gone. He'd ruined it. He'd lied, and now Steve knew he'd lied.

Feeling like the room was shaking, he cleared his throat, and Steve turned towards him. Steve's expression was furious, his lips pressed together in thin lines, and he stared at him.
"Get out." He said, his voice soft. It felt like a punch to the gut.

Bucky turned and walked out of the room. He felt dizzy, and he curled up in the corridor outside, trying to form a plan. This felt just like it was when he had been too long without going into the ice. His mind was confused, and he wasn't sure what to say now. He'd ruined it all. Steve wouldn't want to touch him any more.

"Barnes." Something clinked down beside him, and he looked to see a glass of water there. Romanoff had come to sit beside him, and he turned to face her. "What were you thinking?"
"That it'd be easier." He admitted. "That I could tell him-"
"You have to tell him the truth." Natasha rested her hand on his arm. "All of it. And don't you ever, ever, use my life to tell your stories, you understand?"

Bucky nodded, his insides feeling twisted. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Natasha was right.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.
"Prove it." She told him. "Fix this." She stood up and walked away, and Bucky leaned his head back against the wall.

There was no way forwards with this, but there wasn't a way back either. He had to do this. He made himself stand, making his way over to the door and knocking. He took a breath, and then another, feeling like he was going to throw up but knowing that this was his only choice now.

"Steve?" He called out. "Can I come in?"
For a few seconds there was no reply, and his heart hammered in his chest. He was worried he wouldn't even get a chance to explain. But then he heard the door open, and Bucky looked up to see Steve standing there, his eyes cold and angry.
"Come in Bucky."

Bucky walked in, his head bowed. He was shaking a little, feeling sick, terrified. He had ruined it all. It had been meant to make things easier, but this wasn't easier. This was worse.

"Why would you like about something like that?" Steve asked, frowning. "Why... Why did you lie?"
"I... I wasn't thinking." Bucky whispered. "I can never... never...I wanted to see how you'd respond."
"You were testing me." Steve said coldly. "You were testing me, and you decided to hurt Natasha to do it. That... you disgust me."

Bucky flinched at that, knowing that Steve had every right to say what he had done. He swallowed, trying to find words, but there was nothing good enough that he could say.

"You..." Steve took a deep breath. "You have to tell me something. One question, and I want you to answer me honestly. Will you do that for me Bucky?"
Bucky nodded, and Steve looked into his eyes.

"What did she mean, when she said you were told to practice with her?"

The question hung in the air between them for a few moments, with Bucky realising that there was nothing he could say to hide what he had done, no way he could erase his sins.
"The Soviets asked us to have sex together. They were curious as to whether or not I was capable. And... we had sex. Once, under orders-"
"You raped her." Steve said softly. "You raped her on their orders."

Bucky swallowed and nodded his head.
"I did." He agreed. "I did it because we were under orders..."

Steve nodded slowly, averting his eyes.
"I understand. I think... maybe you should stay somewhere else tonight Bucky."
"Yes." Bucky whispered. "I think you're right." This was his worst fear come to life, but he knew that he deserved it. He turned his back, heading towards the door. He was exhausted, feeling like he had been beaten. His head spun.

"Bucky... James." Steve called him back, and he turned, looking over his shoulder.
"Yes?"
"Why... why did you lie about all this... Why did you make this up?"

Bucky knew there was no reasonable answer he could give to that, so he turned and walked away in silence.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Jarvis called from the ceiling. "I can prepare one of the spare bedrooms for you."
"Thanks." Bucky stumbled his way down the stairs, and made his way to the room Jarvis had selected. He stripped and stood under the shower, trying to turn the water up as hot as he possibly could. He felt dirty. He'd lied, and now he'd lost Natasha and Steve. Everyone he cared about, and he closed them off.

He shuddered, wrapping his arms around him. He felt bile rising in his throat. It was burning his skin, and he felt like collapsing. He tried to blink back his tears. He had no right to cry. Not after everything he had done.
"Sergeant Barnes?" Jarvis called down from the ceiling. "Captain Rogers is outside. He is requesting a meeting with you."

Bucky fought back the urge to retch.
"Let him in." He turned the water off, fumbling for the towel and wrapping it around himself. He felt naked, dirty, and he made his way to the door, resting his forehead against the wood for a moment, taking slow deep breaths.

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Steve stepped into the room, and looked at Bucky. Bucky felt like his skin was itching, painfully aware of the fact he was standing there wearing only a towel. It wasn't just his nakedness that bothered him. It was the knowledge that all his scars were on display, that he looked vulnerable. He was worried it came across as him trying to manipulate Steve, again, when he'd learned by now that trying such things ended only in disaster.

He held his ground.
"Hey..." He whispered, fighting to keep his voice steady. He didn't know what it was now. Maybe he hadn't gone far enough away. Maybe when Steve had said that he should find somewhere else to stay, he had meant outside of the tower. That Bucky's sins had cost him all the comforts he had found here. He would deserve that. He knew he would.

Steve's hand reached up towards him, then away, in a grotesque parody of his aborted attempt at congratulating Natasha. Bucky remembered how Steve had touched him before, how he had traced his scars. That memory stung, now that it wouldn't happen again.

"Bucky?" Steve asked, and Bucky could barely suppress the shudder that went through him at hearing his name.
"Why are you here Steve?"
"You were watching the whole conversation. Jarvis replayed the entire thing to me. You were watching." Steve said softly, and Bucky looked down, trying to find yet more words of apology. "Why?"
"I wanted to know what ...I needed to see how you would respond."

Steve nodded slowly, seeming to think over the new information. He didn't appear angry now, just deeply thoughtful.
"And how did I respond?"
"You were kind to her." Bucky said softly. "You were kind, but you were afraid to hurt her. And then you found out that I had..." He couldn't bring himself to say that he had lied, so his words trailed off.

Steve nodded, breath leaving him in a soft huff. He looked into Bucky's eyes.
"Alright. One last question, then I'll let you sleep."
"Thank you." Bucky whispered, wrapping his arms around his chest, feeling open and exposed.

"Natasha said that what you described didn't happen to her."
The question, unspoken, hung in the air between them. Bucky couldn't bring himself to confess, not after everything. It would seem too much like he was playing for sympathy, trying to be forgiven for a sin that was too bad to be brushed aside.

Steve took a step forward, and this time his hand did rest on Bucky's flesh arm, fingertips absently tracing the outline of a scar. Bucky leaned into the contact for a moment, before remembering that this was no longer his right, that he was not entitled to such comfort. Steve didn't stop though, just looked at him with calm clear eyes.
"So if you didn't see it happen to her... I don't think you made it up, did you?"

Bucky shook his head, aware he was shivering now. Things seemed to spin out of control for a moment, and as they calmed he found that he was sat on the sofa beside Steve, Steve's gaze on his face with intensity but not anger any more. He swallowed thickly.

"Bucky, throw me a bone here..." Steve pleaded, and Bucky realised the question was hanging between them, both of them too nervous to ask. In the end, it came down to him. Resisting the urge to start crying, he nodded once. Seeing the way Steve looked at him, he took a deep breath.

"Me." He whispered, and when he wasn't immediately struck, he found the courage for more words. "It happened to me."

Strong arms wrapped around him, and he looked up to see Steve's face. Steve looked angry, and he flinched back, frightened that his honesty would be mistaken for further attempts at manipulating Steve. But Steve's embrace was warm.

Bucky didn't know if Steve was about to leave forever, and with that as a possibility he wanted to hold onto him for as long as possible. He stayed silent, in Steve's arms, as the minutes ticked by.

"I'm sorry." Steve's voice was gentle, but in the quiet of the room it still startled him. "I'm sorry you couldn't tell me. And I’m sorry that I…that I thought I understood.”
Bucky opened his mouth to explain, but all his excuses sounded weak and useless. Instead, he swallowed and leaned in.
"You know now."

Steve sighed against his ear, and nodded. "You want to finish your shower and come back up? We can talk about this."
Bucky hesitated. He was frightened, and he didn't want to talk more about it, not at this moment. But he didn't want to hurt Steve either. He'd caused enough pain.
"I'd rather stay here tonight." He whispered. Pain flitted across Steve's face, and he tried to hide it. Bucky reached for his hand. "But you can stay for a while longer."

With that, he relaxed against Steve's side, feeling Steve's fingers tracing over his scars. They had a lot to talk about, but they had time for that.

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