Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

[trashmod]

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.

Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.

[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by greenkirtle)] [Round 4 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.

Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.

Comments

FILL: Daybreak part 11a Re: Identity Porn in captivity

[(Anonymous)]

A/N: I haven’t warned for anything in this story so far because it would just be a never-ending mess of warnings, and we’re all here for fucked up stuff in the first place. But I have to put a warning here for the particular fucked up stuff in this section: there is a brief, non-graphic description of predatory behavior toward and attempted molestation of a child, a reference to incestuous abuse of a minor, and brief discussion of really shitty bedside manner that borders on casual dehumanization in a medical setting. I know that’s the line for some people and can draw you right out and fuck up your day, and it’s not inherent to the prompt itself so it’s unexpected, but just know that it’s in there. And there is a purpose to it.
-

Rogers came around slowly, but surely. It was hard to say that he improved, under the circumstances, but anything was better than that thousand yard stare. It was undeniable that he’d been deeply affected by the solitary confinement, but as long as Call Me Jimmy continued to show up every day, his tether to the world seemed strengthened and more resolute. He still had lapses, still trailed off and forgot what he was saying sometimes or lost track of the conversation, but he was engaged, he was aware, and he was angry. It simmered under his skin and made him restless, vibrated the exhaustion out of his posture.

Aside from those things, the days passed much as they had before. It was almost surreal, actually.

The Soldier kept up his work, more secure in his footing than he’d been since this farce had begun. He’d proven his subservience. He’d proven his command of the situation. He’d done as they’d ordered.

Or so he’d thought.

For a guy barely significant enough to be remembered in passing, Rumlow found his way into the Soldier’s space very quickly. The Soldier had seen him laughing at a video on his phone with a few other people earlier that day, but he hadn’t expected to talk to him. Yet he was waiting in the corner of the lab where the Soldier slept, arms crossed and boots squeaking against the floor as he rocked forward and back on the balls of his feet. The Soldier didn’t recognize him at first until a lab tech greeted him.

His shoulders tightened with apprehension as he approached, but Rumlow didn’t seem much happier to see him. The man kept track of his every movement, turning his body to face him fully at all times.

“Saw your boyfriend,” he said. “You must be getting soft in your old age ‘cause Rogers can still walk.” His lip curled. “Still got a mouth on him, too.”

He waited expectantly.

The Soldier wasn’t attempting to intimidate him, but he had a bad feeling about whatever might have gone on between Rumlow and Rogers, and he couldn’t quite feign servility knowing that. His shoulders went back, his chin tipped up, and he locked eyes. The longer the Soldier stared back at him in silence, the tenser he got, until he started fidgeting.

Finally, he produced a bag he’d had tucked under his arms, shoved it into the Soldier’s chest, and backed up a step. “Call it a gift.”

He spun on his heel to leave, but he turned back at the door. An ugly smirk tugged at his lips. “Oh, and, uh, leave this on. Ol’ Cap needs some discipline.”

The stolen phone was hot in his hand beneath the bag. For a skill he’d let rust, he was getting a lot of practice now. He carefully slipped the phone into the bag, pulling open the case and detaching the battery as unobtrusively as possible before setting the bag on the floor and sitting beside it to wait for his orders.

-

He trained rigorously all day, closely observed every moment. He could tell what they were gearing up for. Next would come the tests. He was cold and efficient on his rounds, but the damage was done. They would evaluate him soon.

He waited until the door locked behind him to turn to Rogers on the platform, circling around him, studying. The urge to touch his face even over the mask was powerful, but easily ignored. He sat cross-legged beside him and opened the bag.

First, he stuck the battery back in the phone, turned off the location and data, and went straight to the videos. Between a blurry shot of highway and a poorly-lit cock, he fund a thumb clip of blond hair and clicked that one.

His heart leapt into his throat as the shaky image onscreen steadied to reveal a figure on the floor of the round room. Even as the camera tried to focus, it was so clearly Rogers, probably from the past week judging by the injuries visible. He looked more alert than the Soldier had seen him the other day.

“Been a while,” said a tinny voice from offscreen. “You look like shit, Cap.”

“You look like traitorous scum,” Rogers said. Cap. Rumlow had called him Cap. He was Captain Rogers?

A laugh crackled through the speakers, setting him on edge. “One of us is on his knees right now, and it ain’t me. I’d say I’m doing fine.” He paused, walking behind Rogers.

The phone was passed to someone offscreen, tilting the room nauseatingly on edge for a few seconds, and Rumlow moved into view. “If you’d’ve just kept your nose where it belonged and kept on being Fury’s errand boy, you wouldn’t be in this mess. You had to go looking through files that weren’t yours and messing with carefully laid plans beyond your comprehension. I’d say you’re getting exactly what’s coming to you, but I don’t think you’re getting the full experience.” He paused, reaching out to push a few loose strands of hair off of Rogers’ forehead. His fascination was palpable, like he’d waited ages to touch this man and wanted to drink in every second of it now that he had all the power.

The Soldier wondered if he’d volunteered for this, wondered what his relationship with Rogers had been like before he’d been captured, their history obvious.

Rogers jerked back, his blank mask cracking into anger.

Rumlow backhanded him and grabbed the hair at his nape instead. “I think you missed me. I think even the great Captain America is just a lonely, pitiful bitch underneath it all. I bet you’re so starved for attention here, you’d beg for the privilege of my cock.” He palmed his crotch with his other hand. His face wasn’t visible, but the tilt of his head looked like he was considering something. “How ‘bout it, Cap?”

Rogers smiled serenely. “Anything you put near my mouth gets the full force of my jaws. How ‘bout that?”

Rumlow tugged his head back farther. “I could just break it. Do whatever I want.”

Rogers shrugged. “But then how will I tell you what you want to hear? Go ask whoever’s holding your leash how they feel about that.”

“What about if I got your little friend, huh? Bet you’d do as you’re told then. Bet if it was you or him, you’d swallow my cock and be grateful. Goddamn righteous prick.”

A bolt of fear seized him, wondering if that was within Rumlow’s power to actually do. The Soldier had done horrific things, but setting Rogers up to be complicit in his own violation in order to spare the dignity of the man responsible for so much of his suffering … that was just too fucking much even for him to process. He knew that Rogers would have done it in an instant. It seemed like an empty threat at the moment, but he filed it away as something to mentally prepare himself for, just in case. He was a good actor, but he wasn’t sure he could be that good.

He watched the rest of the video thinking about wrapping his flesh fingers around Rumlow’s throat and squeezing until he could feel the pops. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, just the average beating a non-enhanced mercenary could dole out to a sick, injured man, and the spiteful bit at the end when he’d forced a stun baton down Rogers’ throat in lieu of a blowjob all the while keeping up the mocking, degrading commentary. Before the video cut out suddenly, he jabbed a quick, cryptic, “You know, your redheaded cunt is looking for you,” leaving the Soldier with yet more questions. But ugly as it was, it was clear that he’d lost the battle of wills, and that was a problem.

The Soldier could admit by now that he was jealous and angry, but that wasn’t his main trouble. Rumlow hadn’t been looking for information. He’d been checking on the Soldier’s progress. He’d been gauging Rogers’ will.

As satisfying as it was to see Rumlow not get what he wanted, the Soldier’s heart sunk. If Rumlow’s visit hadn’t broken Steve’s will and convinced him to stop fighting, then once again, that would fall to the Soldier, or they’d be back where they started, with him in the chair and Rogers …

What the hell would they do with Rogers when they got what they wanted, anyway? He assumed that the same technology that had created the pinnacle of weaponry in the form of the Winter Soldier could also be used on an unwilling participant.

He shuddered thinking about it.

He had to do whatever it took to maintain control over the situation. He couldn’t leave Rogers alone like that again.

His finger hovered over the icon to delete the video, but he stopped himself, taking the battery out again and shoving them aside to wait until he could slip them back onto Rumlow’s person later.

He dumped out the bag to examine the items he’d been told to use.

They weren’t horrific, all things considered. A large plug and a chain with clamps dangling from either end. He did what he’d come to do and applied them both before he left.

-

Call Me Jimmy was in over his head the next morning when he landed in the round room to find Rogers secured exactly where he’d left him the night before. The hood was off and they’d repositioned him slightly, bent forward with his arms stretched out and wrists secured to the edge of the platform so his tailbone pushed skyward, exposing the plug, but otherwise nothing had changed. Rogers jerked in the limited give of the chains when the door slammed.

It was surreal to see him in that tableau with his face exposed. Surreal and appalling. As he got his feet under him and walked around Rogers, his stomach plummeted.