hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Welcome to the latest, greatest, scummiest iteration of

hydratrashmeme. Come on in and please check your sense of shame at the door.

Rules in brief: Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because this is emphatically not a safe space. Link your fills on the fill post. Unprompted fills: make a prompt or a header comment and reply to it with the full text. Continuations of fills from earlier rounds: just make sure you link in both places.

What's on-topic: Filthy and perverted twists on all the quality whump served up by Cap: Winter Soldier. Noncon, aftermath, uncomfortably sexualized violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves.
What's off-topic: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, shippy/romanticized noncon, MCU heroes repurposed into OOC or edgydark delivery vehicles for your fave's suffering. If you've got a prompt for one of those burning a hole in your brain, head on over to

mcu_trash.

[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Round 4] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive] [Round 5 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

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"Watch’a drawing?" Bucky asks. Steve looks small and thin today, crouching at the table with a sketchbook in his lap.

"Can I look?"

Steve angles the paper away. "No. I’m not drawing, I’m playing a game."

"Oh?"

Steve ignores him and starts scribbling again. Actually, it sounds more like writing.

"Hm. How about a game of cards?" Bucky asks, grabbing the well worn packet from the window sill. He snips it open, taps the cards against the table and starts shuffling. He’s getting used to doing things with one hand, and the cards fold and unfold elegantly.

"I’m not playing with you," Steve says. "Who knows what you’ll do to me if I lose."

Bucky frowns. "What do you think I’ll –" He stops dead. He’s in Siberia, training with the other Winter Soldiers. The last fight of the day counts.

Bucky’s eyes widen, and he goes cold. He shoves the cards back into the box. "Forget I said anything." He stands up as Steve grabs his wrist.

"Stop running."

"Steve," Bucky says, desperate. "Let’s not… let’s not think of that right now." He steps out of Steve’s grasp, sets the cards back on the window sill.

Steve stands, too. "Time you remembered."

"No."

"Coward! Was it your idea?"

Bucky whips around. "No! No, of course not. When I was brought in they had already set up the rules."

"They? Hydra or the Winter Soldiers?"

"I don’t know! The... the Soldiers I think. They took their training very seriously, they wanted to up the game. For motivation, I guess." Bucky wipes at his face.

"You… guess?" Steve’s raised eyebrow gives Bucky a very clear idea on what Steve thinks of that.

"Yes, I – listen, there wasn’t much talking going on, especially not between them and me. Do you think they gave me an introduction? No. The first time, they suddenly started counting hitpoints, and they were – they were pumped full of something, they didn’t even blink when they took a hit, they were – and then, when I –"

"… lost?" Steve supplies.

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair. "Yes, then, they held me down, four against one, I had no chance, and they – you know."

"Hm," Steve says. He sits back down, starts scribbling again. "But you geared up, right? Didn’t always lose."

"Steve," Bucky whispers. "Steve, I beg you, let it go."

"Did they beg you when you raped them?"

"Don’t say that!" Bucky’s fist clenches and unclenches compulsively at his side. Steve just looks up at him, eyes a cold, deep blue.

Bucky sinks into his chair, looking at Steve imploringly. "That’s not what it was. It was more like – the loser begrudgingly had to put it out for the winners."

"Oh wow," Steve says, focusing back on the paper in his lap. "Begrudgingly. There was struggling though?"

"Of course there was struggling! It’s not like it felt nice, they made sure of that. So you’d fight better next time." Bucky sighs. "Besides. If you don’t struggle enough, they’ll just tell you you like it. I should know. Despite what you think, I lost more often than not."

"You didn’t have to do it," Steve says. "When you won."

"Yes, I did," Bucky insists. "Me not joining wouldn’t have changed a thing, and they’d only seen me as weak. Steve, it was life or death there, I couldn’t afford that."

"God." Steve’s dry laughter drowns in the rustle of paper. "That’s on you though, you realize that? No trigger words, no mind wipes. You can’t blame that one on Hydra."

Bucky chews at his lower lip. "I didn’t… enjoy it or anything."

"Well, in that case…" Steve says sarcastically.

"No, for real." Bucky rubs his face. "Also, you’ve never been fucked by a super soldier who’s all pumped up from battle, huh? Tell you a secret, pal; It’s over really fast. It was… more symbolic than anything." He chokes on the laugh he tries to cough up.

"Do you hear yourself talk?" Steve leans over. The sudden crack of his fist against the table surface makes Bucky jump. "Can you imagine how you sound to anybody who’s not completely sick in the head?" He hisses the last part directly into Bucky’s face. Bucky shrinks back, Steve’s breath on his cheek.

"There was a woman, too, wasn’t there?"

They had no names back then, only numbers, but Bucky remembers a face.

"третий," Bucky whispers. "The Third. Everybody was scared of her. She had a real cruel streak."

"You rape her too?"

Bucky blinks up at Steve. "She was… she was insanely strong, she used to wipe the floor with us."

"Most of the time," Steve says, and Bucky’s breath hitches. "Yes."

"But not always."

"No." Bucky rubs his face. "But … we wouldn’t have… we wouldn’t have hurt her like a woman. I mean… I. Everyone was punished the same way, you know. So it’d be fair."

Steve barks out a laugh. "Amazing," he says. "Remind me of that the next time someone writes a book about Bucky fucking Barnes and his overblown sense of justice, so I can tell them he rapes everyone the same way. They’ll love that."

Bucky exhales shakily. "Steve, please."

"He’ll never forgive you," Steve says. "Not that. He threw everything out of the window for you, the entire life he’d built up since he’d been defrosted. Hasn’t looked back once. But that – no. Not even for you."

"You didn’t know them," Bucky tries, desperately. "You didn’t see their eyes, they… they were inhuman… they were not real people." He swallows. "None of us were."

Steve’s smile grows feral. He slaps the paper down on the table between them. "Bingo," he says.

Bucky looks up at him questioningly.

"Take it," Steve orders, forcing the paper into Bucky’s hands. It’s full of crossed out phrases, arranged in a set of boxes.

"Every single one," Steve says, voice hard and cold. "I could tick off every single one."

I didn’t make the rules.

Me not joining wouldn’t have changed a thing.

They would have hurt me if I resisted.

"What the –" Bucky tries to shove the sheet of paper back at Steve, who slaps his hand away.

I needed him to respect me.

I didn’t enjoy it.

It wasn’t rape.

"You know what this is," Steve says. "It’s what they all say. Every single Hydra agent that has ever hurt you."

He hardly felt it.

He’s not even human.

"So what’s it gonna be, Buck?" Steve asks. "Are they right? Then you gotta let them off the hook too. Or are you calling bullshit? Because then I’ve got really bad news for you."

"No," Bucky groans, throwing the paper away. "No." He sinks down, face buried in his palm.

"Monster," Steve says. And indeed, the sounds clawing their way up Bucky’s throat do not sound human at all.

---

"That’s not an option," Steve states flatly, shaking his head in disbelief. "How could you forget?" He’s wet, the shower’s still running, even though the water has gone cold. It’s crowded in there with Bucky crouched on the ground beside him.

"You were freaking the first time this happened. Absolutely, fucking losing it." He’s gesticulating, but Bucky stares past him. There’s blood on him; on the sharp spikes of metal of his left shoulder, on the other arm, wrist to elbow. While some’s still swirling down the drain, Bucky’s skin has already healed to nothing more than a few unruly, pinkish lines. Even those are fading.

"That was – was that in Austria even? No, Russia I think, but you didn’t have the arm yet. Wasn’t easy doing that one handedly, huh? At first you thought that was why it wasn’t working." Steve wipes water from his brow. "Man, when you realized it was because of what they’d done to you! You saw for the first time how deep those changes went, that you could practically watch your wounds heal, that you were – that you had no idea what you were, what they’d turned you into. It wasn’t you against them anymore, there was no longer a you. Only them and their creation."

Bucky sets his jaw. He opens his eyes even though the water’s pouring down on him.

Steve reaches up and turns it off. The world turns silent very loudly.

"You still feel that, don’t you? More than ever. That every inch of skin, ever bone, every muscle in this body is theirs."

Bucky gets up, steps out of the shower. He does not reach for a towel, disappears straight into the living room.

When Steve steps through the door a bit later, Bucky sits on the plastic chair by the kitchen, still naked. He’s got a gun in his hand. After a swirl around his finger, he points it at Steve. "You took my bullets."

Steve nods. "I hid them."

The entire table creaks as Bucky jams the gun down. He looks at Steve hatefully. "Why?"

"You know why. " Steve steps closer.

Bucky bares his teeth, but Steve doesn’t back off. "You’ve been weak before. They could never have broken you otherwise. I knew you’d be weak again."

Bucky’s cold eyes come up to him. "What does it matter? One less monster walking the earth."

"Because it’s a waste!" Steve says. "Not many people can deal real damage to Hydra. You could, if you got your act together."

"Ha!" Bucky laughs bitterly. "I can hardly wipe my own ass nowadays! I don’t remember their hideouts, and if they got their hands on me… you know what happened last time. A couple of trigger words and we’re back at the fucking start!"

"Because you’re a coward!" Steve shoots back. "You keep fighting your memories because you’re too afraid to face what you’ve done. You hide out here, allow yourself to be a burden to Steve because you’re scared shitless at the thought of having the arm replaced, of having your brain picked to remove those triggers!"

"It’s not like I can walk into a fucking hospital!" Bucky spits. "And in case you haven’t noticed, there’s kind of a shortage on people who create weaponized prosthetics and also dabble in lobotomies!"

"Well, I for one know a guy," Steve says icily.

Bucky swallows. "I hate you."

Steve smiles. "And I’m the best part of you."

---

The text isn’t signed. It isn’t necessary.

We have to move. Tomorrow, same time, same place. Take everything.

It’s no surprise. In the end, they’ll always come for him, and for Steve because of him, and for everyone else who hasn’t shot at them at the airport.

"You could stop it," Steve says. "Two birds with one stone."

"Bullshit."

"It’s true. Steve has crossed the government before, but they always came around. They need him, and his Avenger gang too. But Stark doesn’t. And he’s got the kind of power to make sure none of them will ever find peace again."

Bucky eyes him with a frown. "You really think he could make it stop?"

"Stop the CIA from chasing you? Get some kind of truce for Steve and his friends, even though they top the Most Wanted List of several countries? Just like that?" He snaps his fingers. "Yes. Yes, I think he can."

"How?"

"Oh, don’t be naive! Steve might run on nothing but thin air and justice, but the world doesn’t. Stark’s got the money, and he’s got the influence. Military, government, media, he’s got connections everywhere, and where he hasn’t he has a checkbook or an envelope with incriminating photos to do the trick. I promise you, Steve’s visiting poor little children in hospitals again by this time next week if Stark wants him to."

"Mh." Bucky hums thoughtfully, and spreads the blinders apart to take a look outside. It’s bright.

"No one’s got any leverage on Stark though. No one but you."

"I know. "

"He’d be willing to make a deal. You surrender to him – to him, not to the police or the government or anyone – just him, discreetly, so he doesn’t have to share you with anyone."

Bucky grinds his teeth.

"You’re considering it," Steve states, sounding surprised. "I didn’t expect that. There might be something of Sergeant Barnes left inside you after all."

Bucky shakes his head. "Steve and the others shouldn't suffer for what I’ve done. Besides, this could be mutually beneficial. Stark could… he could fix the arm. Maybe he knows somebody who could fix my brain."

"Why would he? What makes you sure he won’t kill you the moment you turn yourself over?"

"He might. But if I turn myself in to him, he’s in no hurry. Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to almost kill me every day instead? And if he’s keeping me, at least for a while, it’s in his best interest to de-weaponize me as thoroughly as possible. He’ll do it for his own safety, and because it means he can poke me with his fancy gadgets."

"You’d be defenseless."

"I’d be useless to Hydra. He hates them, too. When I’ll remember more, if I feed him the right information, he might unleash hell on them the way I can’t."

"He won’t turn you over to the authorities," Steve says. "He’ll keep it a secret, keep you locked up somewhere without anyone knowing. Nobody to watch his fingers."

Bucky nods slowly.

"He’ll never let you go again."

"Not in his lifetime," Bucky says. "How old do you think he is?"

"Mh, 50 plus, I’d say?"

"Right. If the serum’s good for anything, I can sit it out."

"Yeah," Steve says, not hiding the sarcasm in his tone. "That’s like, 30, 40 something years. You’ve had worse."

"Besides," Bucky says, "He might get tired of me even sooner. I mean. Does he look like a guy with a terribly long attention span to you?"

"Well," Steve says. "That’s a good point."

They look out of the window silently for a while, shoulders brushing.

Unexpectedly, Steve’s fingers touch his. "Are you scared?"

Bucky glances over at him, more tired than anything. "Does it make a difference?"

Steve smiles, softer than Bucky remembers him smiling in a long time. "I guess not."

Bucky laughs softly, too. "Well then." He straightens up and turns around." D’you recon an important guy like him’s in the phone book?"

---

Vision is missing. Scarlet Witch is missing. Bucky is missing. By 0750, Steve is going through all curses he’s ever learned in multiple languages.

Sam whistles in admiration. "Impressive." He grabs his backpack from the quinjet. "I’m going for the lovebirds, you’re going for Barnes?"

"Guys," Natasha says.

Steve nods. "If you don’t get a hold of them by noon, you’re leaving without them."

"Guys," Natasha repeats.

Both men turn their heads, just in time for Natasha throwing Steve a newspaper.

"Seems we’re no longer fugitives."

By 0800, Steve runs.

---

The front door is open, and that is never, ever a good sign.

"Bucky?" Steve rushes in and the apartment’s empty; empty rooms, empty cabinet – "Bucky?!" Not a sign somebody’d been living here for several weeks.

A sense of dread fills Steve’s stomach, numbs him. The place looks unfamiliar with the windows open, flooded with light. Even the floor has been polished.

Steve charges into the bathroom, – "Bucky?!" – though he already knows he’s alone. He stumbles back out and there, on the table lies the only object that betrays the fact anybody’s been here at all.

A book, the book Steve gifted Bucky when he moved him in. It was supposed to keep him company, and maybe jog his memories. It looks well used now, and it shakes between Steve’s fingers. Nothing hidden inside but oh, there. An inscription that hasn’t been there before.

Hey Steve,

I finally got around to reading your book. Boy, do they exaggerate! Have you considered suing? There might be real money in this.
Anyway, I don’t need it anymore because I remembered the important bits. Sorry it took me so long. I got a few things to sort out, don’t look for me.

And hey, I’m not having big expectations anymore, but just don’t get yourself killed while I’m gone. Build that house you used to talk about. Share it with someone who makes you smile.
Don’t forget to incorporate a guest room though, because who knows, someday I might stand in your doorway and you won’t even remember I was gone.

Love always,
Bucky

Steve sinks into the chair, lungs aching as if they’re filled with icy water. The book drops out of his hands onto the table.
From the cover, worn and scraped, Bucky smiles.

This is incredible. I would really love to know what happened with Tony, but it feels complete as is.

Thanks! It would be really interesting to write Tony Stark for once, but I have exactly zero grip on pop culture references (Manchurian candidate who?), so I'm not sure I could do him justice.

THIS IS INFINITELY DISTRESSING

(thank you for writing, a!a)

((i need to go read a thousand fluffy fics now))

GAH

Someone doesn't appreciate my take on a happy ending... :p

No honestly anon, roll around in all the fluff!

I'm sobbing. Legit, full-on, ugly sobbing.

(In other words, great job! Beautifully written and tragically in-character. If you post this to ao3, will you post a link?)

Will do!
Also, good thing the dumpster is so full of crumpled handkerchiefs, right?

I really enjoyed this!

Said Bucky Barnes never.

Thank you, anon! <3

Well, that ripped me to shreds. So, so well done, and let me second or third or fourth the hope that you'll post it to the AO3.

Aye, here you go: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512125

(DA) Thank you!!

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Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Room for Two, (3/3)

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