garbage all the way down (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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.
bodyswap trash fill 6a/6
(Anonymous) 2017-05-13 03:13 am (UTC)(link)Sam got Steve back. A couple of times. Over and over.
The first time, Steve was behind bars and not himself. Barnes told Sam, "You don't have to see him. He says. If you don't want to." His mouth pulled. "Kind of wish I hadn't. It's weird."
¬¬
"I want to," Sam said, but he didn't go into the cell. He stomped sand off his shoes and brushed it off his skinned elbows. He said, "You, uh, you knew? When you called me? You and Natasha already knew."
Barnes shook his head, changed his mind. Nodded. "We knew what—Steve—in Rumlow's body said. I believed him. Not everybody did but…" He breathed in and then out, air hissing between his teeth. "I should have said?"
"No, I guess not."
"If I were you..." Barnes shrugged. "I'd have wanted to know. But if I were you..." He splayed his fingers at Sam. They buzzed.
"Yeah." Sam looked down at his own hands. "If you were me you couldn't have done anything about it once you knew." Sam was still expecting Barnes to turn it into a joke here. He'd left himself wide open. He was hoping for something along the lines of "yeah, what's it like to be useless without a super-special backpack?" He had a whole lineup of responses for that one.
Barnes dropped his head. "I came as fast as I could."
Sam thought he wouldn't be able to say anything, for a second, but Barnes wasn't looking at him. He had spit something out. "I know," he managed. He patted Barnes's arm on his way by.
Rumlow's—Steve's head shot up when Sam walked in, and he made a sound—maybe he'd moved too fast, or it was just seeing Sam that did it—but he sounded like Rumlow, from what Sam remembered of the Triskelion. He was sitting on the floor in the corner of the cell, and he pushed himself up in one movement, then staggered. "Sam," he said.
Sam stayed clear of the bars.
"Sam, it's me, I swear it's me." His voice sounded different than Sam remembered, and his face was practically melted off. The bars of the cell made it impossible to take all his features in at once. Sam wanted to recognize Rumlow. He wanted to be sure this was Steve, and he wanted to be sure he was in Rumlow's body. If he could see this, too, then Rumlow in Steve's body would be... easier.
"Come on, Sam, are you okay? You don't have to believe me, just say something, would you? Just..." He limped forward, one hand out, and stopped short of the bars.
"I believe you," Sam said.
Rumlow smiled. Jesus, that was Steve's smile, the sad barely-there one he used instead of crying or punching something. "No, you don't," he said. He stuck his hands through the horizontal bars and rested his wrists against a cross bar. "But you're alright?"
Sam nodded. He stepped a little closer. Steve's eyes darted across his face, searching, the same way they did after a firefight where he'd lost sight of Sam for too long. Steve’s eyes. They were brown, and level with Sam’s.
“You could ask me something,” Steve said. “Anything, I mean. To prove it’s me.” No Bronx in his voice, a hell of a lot of smoke inhalation, all the scar tissue around his mouth. That was why it didn’t sound like the Rumlow Sam remembered. He couldn’t expect everything to line up exactly.
“Yeah,” Sam said. He cleared his throat. This felt stupid. HYDRA had bugs that looked like earrings, or like buttons, or like nothing at all; they had years of access to Steve’s passwords and habits. “What’d we do for our first date?”
Steve’s big dumb panicked expression translated pretty well across physical forms. “Went out for dinner together?” he said, because even with his own life in the balance Steve Rogers planned to fake it till he made it. “We wanted Chinese but everywhere was closed because of the gas leak downtown, and we ended up at that little French place where everything cost at least forty dollars and we were the only ones wearing jeans and t shirts—”
“Okay, relax, I know we didn’t have a real first date,” Sam said. “That was a nice night though, good emergency call.” They’d been fucking for months before that night, but then, they’d been doing things that looked pretty date-like the entire time they’d been friends, they’d moved in together before they so much as kissed, they’d started fucking without really talking about it… It hadn’t been a chronologically traditional relationship.
Steve slumped forward against the bars. “That was mean.”
Sam shrugged. “Good to know you still step right into my traps.”
“Still, huh?” Steve’s fingers, too short and broad, jerked on the bars when he tried to tighten them. “It’s been a week.” His face shifted. The bars kept it sliced into separate pieces: here a cheek, there an eye. “I was planning on keeping it up for the foreseeable future.”
“I know. Me too.”
“And now?” Steve swayed on his feet, but locked his elbows and stayed upright. Sam watched, and not until Steve was steady again did it occur to him that he should be worried, that—Steve—the body Steve was in had serious injuries. “Sam, don’t—maybe don’t decide right now, I’m so sorry for whatever Rumlow did, or—or said—but let me at least get out of here before you—”
“Steve.” He sounded angrier than he’d meant to. “I’m not breaking up with you. We’ll be fine.”
Steve laughed. It was just relief. It was the closest to sounding like the Rumlow Sam remembered that he’d come yet.
Sam almost left the room right then. This was what he’d wanted—the symmetry, the other side of the equation to balance. He just couldn’t stand to be around it.
But Steve was balancing against the bars, tipped forward and holding himself stiff to stay in place, and if he left—if Sam left. And if something happened to Steve.
Rumlow had looked huge to Sam in the Triskelion, but trying to see him as Steve, now, he looked small; he was too short, his arms were too thin. Even where he wasn’t burned he looked fragile. What had looked chiseled on Rumlow looked brittle when Sam thought of him as Steve. He had to be three times the size Steve was before the serum, but Sam had never had to worry about Steve like that. Rumlow’s—Steve’s breath whistled through his damaged throat and Sam remembered asthma from the list of ailments Steve didn’t talk about.
He leaned against the wall opposite the cell. It was cold through his shirt. He ached up and down his spine, but he tried to look easy, to settle in.
Steve sagged against the bars a little. He wanted to ask, Sam could see that, eyes still moving too fast over Sam’s body and back to his face. He had to be bruised up, he realized suddenly. He hadn’t noticed any pain there in a while, but Rumlow had hit him in the face a couple times. The cut on his neck, there was that. Those, he thought, could be from any fight. He crossed his arms because the rings of bruises starting to bloom hot around his wrists, those didn’t look like any fight. He wasn’t sure whether Steve had seen them.
“They do room service here?” Sam said.
“Sam, don’t do it. Order us a pizza, I’m begging you.”
“Oh, Fury gives the Domino’s guys top-level clearance? S.H.I.E.L.D. really is a soft touch.”
“Well… make Bucky go get us some.”
“It’s not delivery, it’s…” Sam glanced down to make sure his wrists were hidden. He had blood under his fingernails. It was Steve’s, he realized, and it made his head spin. Steve’s body was in this building somewhere. Bucky should be there, with Rumlow, with that body, to make sure. Bucky would be the only one who could stop him, if he woke up and got loose; and Bucky would be going insane worrying about him, doctors prodding at what was still Steve’s body.
If Steve… if Rumlow woke up. If he got loose.
“I think I’ll do that,” Sam said. “We can all have a picnic.”
“Yeah,” Bucky said when Sam ducked outside and asked him. “Kind of wish I hadn’t,” Sam remembered too late, and he couldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes, between that and the thick chest-wide wash of shame at asking at all. Bucky knew. He knew why Sam didn’t want to be alone, not with Steve, not in case Rumlow woke up. He said, “Unless you want Natasha. One of us has to stay with Steve. Steve’s body. So if you want us to trade. But I can stay with you guys.”
Sam would, now he thought of it, have preferred Natasha. He knew her better and he trusted her to pretend she didn’t know even though she did.
And now he couldn’t say it, like he was scared of Bucky, like he needed it to be a woman in there with him.
“Nah, man, let’s have dinner,” he said. “And maybe—I’ll pay you back. Could you pick me up a shirt with longer sleeves? It’s fucking freezing in there.”
“Yeah,” Bucky said again, just as fast as the first time.
And it was okay. He couldn’t take his eyes off Steve the whole time and Bucky didn’t look at Steve once, but nothing happened. They managed to fake a normal conversation, too polite for how Sam and Bucky usually were together but pretty passable. He thought, I can keep this up. He’d make it through, Steve would make it through, they’d put him back in his body. They’d go—Right. Not home. They’d go somewhere, though. It’d be over.
Re: bodyswap trash fill 6a/6
(Anonymous) 2017-05-14 02:17 pm (UTC)(link)UPDATE USES SOUL CRUSH
IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE
Re: bodyswap trash fill 6a/6
(Anonymous) 2017-05-15 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)Re: bodyswap trash fill 6a/6
(Anonymous) 2017-05-14 09:07 pm (UTC)(link)Ngl I literally shrieked when I saw you had updated, it is SUCH a delight to have more of this story. <333 Thank you so much!
Re: bodyswap trash fill 6a/6
(Anonymous) 2017-05-15 08:11 pm (UTC)(link)Re: bodyswap trash fill 6a/6
(Anonymous) 2017-05-16 01:06 am (UTC)(link)Re: bodyswap trash fill 6a/6
(Anonymous) 2017-06-01 04:50 am (UTC)(link)