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hydratrashmeme2015-09-09 07:23 pm
trashmod) wrote in hydratrashmeme2015-09-09 07:23 pm
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.
[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained bygreenkirtle)] [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.
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.
FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-09-29 08:49 pm (UTC)(link)Or, when he comes in the door after class and Steve greets him like a househusband, looping his arms around his neck and muttering, “One day, an air conditioner comes to life, and it’s really horny, but only for other air conditioners, and it sees me, an air conditioner who isn’t alive, just sitting around out there. Unprotected. Hmm?”
Both times, Steve chuckles and ruffles his hair, and Bucky looks affronted, and Steve freezes, and then they touch less. And they talk about killer whales or meteors.
They talk; they don’t fuck; they don’t talk about anything important; Steve sketches more designs to paint on trash cans, but doesn’t take his paints out of the canvas tote.
They both wake up late. It’s a Saturday, and rain shushes heavy outside, obscuring any light that might come through their bedroom blinds. They wake up both tangled in the blankets, both agreeing that their mouths taste like death, and untangling the blankets a little.
An hour passes, and they're still in bed. Steve stares at his book on the Comics Code without processing anything, while Bucky scrawls something in a notebook, curled into a protective ball around it. He writes with his left hand, and the snatch of handwriting Steve glimpses when Bucky stretches to yawn is smooth and delicate.
His heart feels like it’s made of clay. His mouth still tastes like death, and is still dry even after drinking the glass of water left on the nightstand. He looks at Bucky, and he says, “I don’t feel like I can talk to you.”
Bucky looks up. He dog-ears his page in the notebook and closes it, then hides it beneath the sure muscle of his thigh. He looks soft, unguarded, his hair a rat’s nest. “So talk. I’ll talk to you. With you.”
“I want to be clear.”
“So be clear. Steve.” He grins.
“To be clear, I mean that I want to you talk about things that matter. I want to talk with you about important things.”
“You gonna read The Jungle to me again? I didn’t like it when I was sixteen and I don’t—”
“No. Bucky. Can we talk like friends? Like you do with your friends?”
“Talk, Steve. Go for it.” He takes the notebook out from under his thigh so he can use it like a pillow. “I’m listening.”
“Um.” Now that he’s planning to ask, he feels ridiculous, over-sized, an intrusion. He tries anyway. “What happened on the cliff?”
“The cliff.”
“With Dorsey. You and Katarina were laughing about it. Can you—Are you willing to tell me?”
“Why do you do that?” He sounds half-asleep and resigned, and shuts his eyes and breathes in deep.
“What? Do what, Buck?”
“Try to make me hurt you! Fucking cut it out. Please.” He opens his eyes.
“Oh, I try to make you hurt—” his voice get smaller as he thinks about what he’s saying—“me?”
He means really hurt him, re-traumatize him, pull him out of himself, but Bucky doesn’t think there’s trauma to relive, so of course that’s not what he’ll hear. Steve’s never in his life tried to make Bucky feel broken about liking when Steve hurts him, but now here they are. He doesn’t even want Bucky to feel broken about it, but here they are.
But Bucky takes it mostly in stride. “Yeah, a real hardship for you, having me squirming under you begging to get roughed up. I’m sure that’s been real hard for you all these years.”
“In a sense.”
“Yeah, in a sense. Dumbass.”
“So you’re not going to tell me.”
“No. I’m not.” He shrugs. “It’s okay that you asked. Do you want to wake up now?”
“Next to you?” He sets his hand down between them, close enough that Bucky can take it if he wants. “Always.”
Bucky doesn’t take his hand, but he does smile and says, “Jesus. I don’t know what to do with you. I can make breakfast. I can make breakfast sandwiches. Don’t ask me about Dorsey again.”
“But can I read you The Jungle?”
For all his smiling and offers of breakfast, as he stands, Bucky seems drawn in on himself and drawn tight. His hair falls in front of his eyes and he doesn't brush it back. He says, “You read me that book, I’m doing my own muckraking. Steve Rogers: pervert by night, pervert by day, and can’t make a Bloody Mary to save his life. It's gonna be a bestseller.”
After bacon and egg sandwiches, Steve opens the window in his office and sticks his head out into the downpour. He mutters to himself, “Stop asking shit,” and gets rain in his mouth.
He asks Bucky, “What do you want for your birthday?” because they both learned years ago that Steve has no idea how to guess.
“Your dick,” Bucky says, eyes glazed over, clutching his coffee mug with “Metropolitan Museum of Art” stamped across in cursive.
“No, you don’t. What do you want?”
“No, I don’t really,” and the honesty of that makes Steve wish he would accidentally drop his own coffee on the floor. There’s no other way to externalize anything. He settles for getting up from the table and staring in the fridge like he didn’t finish eating ten minutes ago.
Bucky says, “I don’t know.”
They both woke up late again, Steve’s throat foggy and tight, Bucky refusing to open his eyes in a hammed-up display of orneriness toward no one in particular. And pulled themselves into proper clothes while moaning and grunting. It felt familiar, like waking up hungover on the couch together with their suspenders still half-on and somebody outside yelling.
It’s conceivable that Bucky is hungover; Steve’s just tired down to his blood cells. He takes a jar of peanut butter out of the fridge. He puts it on the counter and stares.
Bucky clears his throat, and Steve returns to the table, aware that the peanut butter is now in his hand. When he’s settled, Bucky says, “I want you to know shit.”
“Yeah? What shit?”
“What happened with the cliff. Nicer things. Everything. You don’t get it. I keep trying to tell you and you don’t get it, and I need you to get it already. I love your thick skull, man, but it’s causing us an issue.” He slurps at his coffee. He grimaces, because their beans are stale and they’re out of cream, and because grimacing is a thing that people do to fill dead air.
Bucky’s always made the stupidest faces when they’re not-quite-fighting.
Steve settles the peanut butter in his lap. Resists the urge to pat its lid. “Isn’t that a gift for me?”
“No. It’s definitely not. And, huh. Buy me flowers. Nice flowers. And a cake.”
“What kind?”
Bucky glares at him. “You know what kind.”
“Yellow.”
“Fucking obviously. Chocolate icing or I’m locking all the doors and windows.”
“So I’ll come down the chimney.”
“I’ll light a fire. Try and cross me.” He sticks a fragile finger in the untouched bowl of oatmeal in front of him, scooping up a dollop. He leans across the table and smears it on the bulb of Steve’s nose. Steve jerks back at the wetness, but he’s startled into laughter, and Bucky’s laughing too, and says, “Mazel tov, douchebag.”
Steve swats at his hand without making contact.
Bucky's laughter cuts off. He says, "You know, though. You, uh. Don't have to get my name on the cake. It's okay with no decorations."
"I don't have to or you don't want me to?"
Bucky says, "Eh," and see-saws his hand in the air. "Do what feels good, okay? You don't have to." He puts more oatmeal on his finger.
Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-09-30 03:56 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-09-30 10:14 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-13 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-13 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-09-30 03:47 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-13 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-01 01:49 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-13 08:49 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-07 02:09 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-13 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-10 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The True Repairman Will Repair Man (13b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-10-13 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)