The phone calls resumed. One key difference: the second time Bucky called, he told Steve to talk.
The words sounded a mixture of grudging and eager, but maybe that was wishful thinking. "I'm sorry Buck," he said, knowing it was so fucking inadequate. He didn’t look at Natasha, who was sitting with him.
He heard Bucky swallow and waited for him to speak. "All my programming tells me to not harm you, Steve."
Steve said nothing, what could he possibly say?
"But I've broken my programming before," Bucky continued, harsh now. "I shot you. Intentionally. Because I wanted to. Want to know how?"
Steve hesitated. While he would take more than a bullet, if it made Bucky feel better, there was a part of him that had never stopped reeling from the knowledge they could actually hurt each other in ways that were potentially unrecoverable. “Only if you want to tell me," he said, after a pause.
He caught the motion as Natasha nodded.
There was definitely something off about Bucky's laugh. "I'm not supposed to hurt HYDRA without orders."
When Bucky didn't immediately continue, Steve prompted: "I guessed that was why you were calling."
“You made it clear you’re not an operative of HYDRA," said Bucky, "But you’re still handler most of the time my head. Glad to eliminate traitors…" He trailed off, clearly confused and more than a little torn. “I've been making exceptions for you since you showed up."
He sounded so miserable about it, Steve just wanted to leap through the phone line and gather him up. Not only was that impossible, it was a bad idea. "I'd rather be your friend than your handler," Steve blurted and immediately went cold. He couldn’t even look at Natasha, unwilling to see the censure he knew would be there. That had been the verbal equivalent of trying to jump through the phone line and he didn't imagine it would be taken very well.
He was right.
Softly, Bucky told him, "I think it's gotta be too late for that.”
Steve bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. That was… No denying it. That was fair. It was more than he deserved that Bucky was even speaking to him.
Natasha squeezed his shoulder.
"So… Please? May I?"
"Yes," he said immediately. "You're a free agent, Buck. You can do wha–"
Bucky had ended the call.
“Steve.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you take out my trackers?”
Admittedly, Steve had wondered the same thing a few times since Bucky left. “Because you have a right to be free.”
Bucky scoffed. “That’s not how the world works.”
“It should be.”
“So you tried to make it the way you think it should be?”
Put that way, it actually sounded kinda terrible.
“You deserve to be free, Bucky.”
“You don’t want me to be free,” Bucky countered.
“Of course I-”
“You want me to be yours.”
Steve... couldn’t honestly say no to that. “I’d like to see you. I’d like to get to know you again. I want to help you. You’re no one’s possession,” he said carefully.
“You want me to belong to you,” insisted Bucky, and Steve couldn’t read his tone at all.
“I want to belong to you,” Steve confessed.
A sharp intake of breath, followed by a long silence. “Why?” Bucky whispered.
The line went dead before Steve could pull together a response.
When I said I wanted to see you, this wasn’t exactly what I meant.
Steve didn’t say it. It wasn’t completely true. He’d take contact however he could get it, even if that meant letting Bucky manhandle him away from the team while they explored the recently identified underground base Steve was now completely certain he recognised. Clearly, HYDRA hadn’t been willing to replace the bedframe they’d broken, or maybe the resident had decided to keep it as some sort of sick souvenir.
The sheets and pillow case were the same fucking colors.
“You know,” said Bucky, “I remember this bed bein’ a hell of a lot more comfortable.”
Breathing. All he could do was keep breathing. Comfortable was not the word- No. He had to breathe and not panic. We were drugged, he almost said, but he couldn't make a sound.
The hand not over his throat moved up from his stomach to his chest and then slowly back down. Up again.
“Steve?”
“Buh-” Steve choked.
The metal hand loosened. “Shit, sorry.”
“S’okay.” Whatever Bucky needed to do to feel safe was fine. Steve could take it. He coughed weakly.
Bucky looked stricken. “I should go. This was a mistake.” The hand on his chest was trembling slightly. The metal hand moved from Steve’s throat to his sternum.
“Please don’t.”
“I hurt you again. Not intentionally.”
“I deserve anything you want to do to me,” Steve said. His therapist might not think it was healthy, but really bothered Steve that no one would punish him. The military had refused to make his discharge dishonorable. He’d been removed from every list of SHIELDRA agents facing prosecution.
Bucky rolled off the mattress. It was a new mattress. Steve couldn’t smell either of them on it and they’d done a thorough job of ruining the old one.
“You need punishment?” Bucky seemed to read his mind. “You say you’re not a Winter Soldier.”
Steve swallowed. “I’m not, but yeah. I wish I could give more than apologies. I wouldn’t ask you to hurt me, Buck. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Next to the stacked mattress and box spring, Bucky shifted in clear agitation. “You keep saying that.”
“I mean it.”
When he tried to sit up, Bucky pushed him back down flat. “But that’s not how it works, Steve.”
“That doesn’t-”
They both froze as Steve’s earpiece came to life.
Tony Stark said, “Cap? You hearing me? We found the labs.”
Fuck. Steve closed his eyes for a moment and felt the rush of air as the door open and shut. Bucky wasn’t a threat to the Avengers. He had to let him go.
When he opened his eyes, he was alone.
The next time they met was in DC again. Steve had finally found a committee that wanted him to testify in person, even if it wasn’t against himself. It wasn’t like he was opposed to bringing others to justice. Reluctantly, he accepted the lawyers Tony had dropped on him. He wasn’t stupid.
Or maybe he was, because he refused to stay in a safehouse and instead got a room at the Hilton closest to Homeland Security Acquisition Institute.
Mentally and emotionally exhausted but physically restless, Steve considered going for a run. Eventually, he decided against it. He’d made enough people unhappy today. He went down to the lobby for directions to the workout room in the hotel but, when he got there, it didn’t take long to see that he’d break their equipment long before the exercise was of any benefit to him.
He went back to his room and did an hour of mindless calisthenics to a background of a British biologist searching for killer fish on the television.
When he eventually got in bed, he stared up at the rough texture of the ceiling for a long time before closing his eyes.
Sleep must have come to him because the next thing Steve was aware of was the warmth of another body near to his, not quite touching. Only supersoldiers were that warm without being sick. He turned his head, and Bucky was lying fully clothed on his back on the other side of the bed.
“How long you gonna be in DC?” Bucky whispered.
“A couple weeks, maybe,” Steve whispered back, drinking in the sight of him.
Bucky said nothing. The glow of the city through the curtain was enough to see his frown.
Tentatively, Steve asked, “That okay?”
Sighing heavily, Bucky said, “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t help smiling. That was pure Bucky, no Winter Soldier in sight.
They lay in silence for a while. It should have been awkward, and it was, a little, but it was comforting to know Bucky was there.
“Been thinkin’ about what you said,” said Bucky after a time.
Steve made a listening noise to invite him to continue.
A slow exhale. “You said you want to belong to me. That you deserve anything I want to do to you. And. Before, Steve. When I had you in Arizona. You said not like this.”
Heart suddenly racing, Steve nodded. “Yeah. I said all that.”
There was another long silence. Eventually, just when Steve had almost given up, Bucky said, “You’d let me touch you?”
That didn’t require a moment’s thought. “Yeah, Buck.” He hadn’t exactly stopped him last time.
“May I?”
“Yes,” Steve agreed, breathless.
Bucky inched over until their sides were pressed together and then propped himself up to put a hand over Steve’s heart. “Breathe, Stevie,” he whispered.
Steve woke from the best night of rest he had had in months and regretted it deeply. The only evidence Bucky had been there was the pile of crushed surveillance devices on the bedside table.
Fill 108/110: Undeniable Plausibility - On to the aftermath!
The phone calls resumed. One key difference: the second time Bucky called, he told Steve to talk.
The words sounded a mixture of grudging and eager, but maybe that was wishful thinking. "I'm sorry Buck," he said, knowing it was so fucking inadequate. He didn’t look at Natasha, who was sitting with him.
He heard Bucky swallow and waited for him to speak. "All my programming tells me to not harm you, Steve."
Steve said nothing, what could he possibly say?
"But I've broken my programming before," Bucky continued, harsh now. "I shot you. Intentionally. Because I wanted to. Want to know how?"
Steve hesitated. While he would take more than a bullet, if it made Bucky feel better, there was a part of him that had never stopped reeling from the knowledge they could actually hurt each other in ways that were potentially unrecoverable. “Only if you want to tell me," he said, after a pause.
He caught the motion as Natasha nodded.
There was definitely something off about Bucky's laugh. "I'm not supposed to hurt HYDRA without orders."
When Bucky didn't immediately continue, Steve prompted: "I guessed that was why you were calling."
“You made it clear you’re not an operative of HYDRA," said Bucky, "But you’re still handler most of the time my head. Glad to eliminate traitors…" He trailed off, clearly confused and more than a little torn. “I've been making exceptions for you since you showed up."
He sounded so miserable about it, Steve just wanted to leap through the phone line and gather him up. Not only was that impossible, it was a bad idea. "I'd rather be your friend than your handler," Steve blurted and immediately went cold. He couldn’t even look at Natasha, unwilling to see the censure he knew would be there. That had been the verbal equivalent of trying to jump through the phone line and he didn't imagine it would be taken very well.
He was right.
Softly, Bucky told him, "I think it's gotta be too late for that.”
Steve bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. That was… No denying it. That was fair. It was more than he deserved that Bucky was even speaking to him.
Natasha squeezed his shoulder.
"So… Please? May I?"
"Yes," he said immediately. "You're a free agent, Buck. You can do wha–"
Bucky had ended the call.
“Steve.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you take out my trackers?”
Admittedly, Steve had wondered the same thing a few times since Bucky left. “Because you have a right to be free.”
Bucky scoffed. “That’s not how the world works.”
“It should be.”
“So you tried to make it the way you think it should be?”
Put that way, it actually sounded kinda terrible.
“You deserve to be free, Bucky.”
“You don’t want me to be free,” Bucky countered.
“Of course I-”
“You want me to be yours.”
Steve... couldn’t honestly say no to that. “I’d like to see you. I’d like to get to know you again. I want to help you. You’re no one’s possession,” he said carefully.
“You want me to belong to you,” insisted Bucky, and Steve couldn’t read his tone at all.
“I want to belong to you,” Steve confessed.
A sharp intake of breath, followed by a long silence. “Why?” Bucky whispered.
The line went dead before Steve could pull together a response.
When I said I wanted to see you, this wasn’t exactly what I meant.
Steve didn’t say it. It wasn’t completely true. He’d take contact however he could get it, even if that meant letting Bucky manhandle him away from the team while they explored the recently identified underground base Steve was now completely certain he recognised. Clearly, HYDRA hadn’t been willing to replace the bedframe they’d broken, or maybe the resident had decided to keep it as some sort of sick souvenir.
The sheets and pillow case were the same fucking colors.
“You know,” said Bucky, “I remember this bed bein’ a hell of a lot more comfortable.”
Breathing. All he could do was keep breathing. Comfortable was not the word- No. He had to breathe and not panic. We were drugged, he almost said, but he couldn't make a sound.
The hand not over his throat moved up from his stomach to his chest and then slowly back down. Up again.
“Steve?”
“Buh-” Steve choked.
The metal hand loosened. “Shit, sorry.”
“S’okay.” Whatever Bucky needed to do to feel safe was fine. Steve could take it. He coughed weakly.
Bucky looked stricken. “I should go. This was a mistake.” The hand on his chest was trembling slightly. The metal hand moved from Steve’s throat to his sternum.
“Please don’t.”
“I hurt you again. Not intentionally.”
“I deserve anything you want to do to me,” Steve said. His therapist might not think it was healthy, but really bothered Steve that no one would punish him. The military had refused to make his discharge dishonorable. He’d been removed from every list of SHIELDRA agents facing prosecution.
Bucky rolled off the mattress. It was a new mattress. Steve couldn’t smell either of them on it and they’d done a thorough job of ruining the old one.
“You need punishment?” Bucky seemed to read his mind. “You say you’re not a Winter Soldier.”
Steve swallowed. “I’m not, but yeah. I wish I could give more than apologies. I wouldn’t ask you to hurt me, Buck. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Next to the stacked mattress and box spring, Bucky shifted in clear agitation. “You keep saying that.”
“I mean it.”
When he tried to sit up, Bucky pushed him back down flat. “But that’s not how it works, Steve.”
“That doesn’t-”
They both froze as Steve’s earpiece came to life.
Tony Stark said, “Cap? You hearing me? We found the labs.”
Fuck. Steve closed his eyes for a moment and felt the rush of air as the door open and shut. Bucky wasn’t a threat to the Avengers. He had to let him go.
When he opened his eyes, he was alone.
The next time they met was in DC again. Steve had finally found a committee that wanted him to testify in person, even if it wasn’t against himself. It wasn’t like he was opposed to bringing others to justice. Reluctantly, he accepted the lawyers Tony had dropped on him. He wasn’t stupid.
Or maybe he was, because he refused to stay in a safehouse and instead got a room at the Hilton closest to Homeland Security Acquisition Institute.
Mentally and emotionally exhausted but physically restless, Steve considered going for a run. Eventually, he decided against it. He’d made enough people unhappy today. He went down to the lobby for directions to the workout room in the hotel but, when he got there, it didn’t take long to see that he’d break their equipment long before the exercise was of any benefit to him.
He went back to his room and did an hour of mindless calisthenics to a background of a British biologist searching for killer fish on the television.
When he eventually got in bed, he stared up at the rough texture of the ceiling for a long time before closing his eyes.
Sleep must have come to him because the next thing Steve was aware of was the warmth of another body near to his, not quite touching. Only supersoldiers were that warm without being sick. He turned his head, and Bucky was lying fully clothed on his back on the other side of the bed.
“How long you gonna be in DC?” Bucky whispered.
“A couple weeks, maybe,” Steve whispered back, drinking in the sight of him.
Bucky said nothing. The glow of the city through the curtain was enough to see his frown.
Tentatively, Steve asked, “That okay?”
Sighing heavily, Bucky said, “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t help smiling. That was pure Bucky, no Winter Soldier in sight.
They lay in silence for a while. It should have been awkward, and it was, a little, but it was comforting to know Bucky was there.
“Been thinkin’ about what you said,” said Bucky after a time.
Steve made a listening noise to invite him to continue.
“You said…” Bucky trailed off. “It’s stupid. Forget it.”
“Please, Buck,” said Steve.
A slow exhale. “You said you want to belong to me. That you deserve anything I want to do to you. And. Before, Steve. When I had you in Arizona. You said not like this.”
Heart suddenly racing, Steve nodded. “Yeah. I said all that.”
There was another long silence. Eventually, just when Steve had almost given up, Bucky said, “You’d let me touch you?”
That didn’t require a moment’s thought. “Yeah, Buck.” He hadn’t exactly stopped him last time.
“May I?”
“Yes,” Steve agreed, breathless.
Bucky inched over until their sides were pressed together and then propped himself up to put a hand over Steve’s heart. “Breathe, Stevie,” he whispered.
Steve woke from the best night of rest he had had in months and regretted it deeply. The only evidence Bucky had been there was the pile of crushed surveillance devices on the bedside table.