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.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bucky wasn’t in the bathroom. He wasn’t in the bedroom closet. He wasn’t outside the bedroom door. He wasn’t in the kitchen. He wasn’t in the untouched second bedroom. He wasn’t on the couch, in any of the closets, behind a curtain, or wedged into the pantry. He wasn’t in a corner of the ceiling. He wasn’t soundlessly following in Steve’s blind spot.

JARVIS didn’t respond when Steve asked for Bucky’s location.

Steve scrambled for the elevator, uncaring of the fact he was only wearing the boxers he’d slept in.

“Good morning, Captain Rogers,” said JARVIS.

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve demanded.

“Sergeant Barnes is asleep in your bedroom,” the AI told him.

Steve spun and almost dented the closing door in his haste to get out. Maybe he somehow hadn’t seen Bucky under the covers?

But, no. Bucky wasn’t in their suite.

He wasn’t in the building.

Working together, it took Tony and JARVIS less than a minute to determine how Bucky had fooled JARVIS.

Much less.

In the time it took Steve to throw on a shirt and pants, they had moved on to watching the footage of Bucky strolling out the side door from the ground floor coffee shop. It was a 24 shop, not meant to provide three AM public access to the tower’s lobby, but not designed to prevent traffic from the tower. There was only one employee in the coffee shop at that time. He turned away to operate the blender and Bucky walked right past him and out. The few customers were focused on their phones. Not one looked up to see the Winter Soldier’s exit.

At least Bucky was wearing clothes. He had a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt with STARK INDUSTRIES written across the back in bright blue. Black or dark gray socks.

He wasn’t wearing shoes. His combat boots were in an evidence bag and Steve had let himself be convinced Bucky didn’t need shoes yet because they couldn’t leave the tower.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Bucky had been in bed with him at least part of the night. He couldn’t have gone far.

No, Steve couldn’t lie to himself. The Winter Soldier was eminently capable of traversing huge distances without detection.

Bucky was gone.

“You lost the asset?” Rumlow laughed, breaking off into a wheezing cough as the movement jostled his injuries. “Really? What did you do? Try to make it be a person all the time? I thought you said you learned from me.”

Steve glowered. Seeing Rumlow had been a mistake. “All I want to learn from you is where he might go. The only reason you haven’t been interrogated yet is that I knocked you into next week. A little cooperation could go a long way at this stage.”

Determining who should have jurisdiction over the HYDRA agents was an ongoing effort. In the meantime, no one wanted to take responsibility for offering any deals, so Steve had been told to avoid making any promises.

The grin Rumlow was wearing had to be painful. “Oh, Stevie. You try so hard. It’s not your fault you’re not made for interrogation.”

Steve walked to the cell door and knocked to be let out.

“Let me guess, you did exactly what I said you’d do and tried to take it all back. Apologies and denial. When’d you last let it please you? You think it thinks you don’t want it?”

Shut up. He wouldn’t give Rumlow the satisfaction.

“How long until it goes looking for something familiar to give it order again, huh, Captain?” Rumlow taunted.

The door opened.

“Goodbye, Brock,” Steve said.

Bucky wouldn’t.

The asset would.

Don’t think about it.

“There’s no evidence he didn’t leave on his own,” Natasha told him.

Steve snarled wordlessly and stalked away. Why had Bucky left? What had Steve done? Or, what had Steve done to prompt this extreme response? Had Bucky been planning to escape from the start?

They’d had one more sighting - at the Smithsonian Captain America exhibit - and the Winter Soldier’s trail went cold. Natasha and Clint were certain the sighting had been planned but refused to speculate on what that meant.

The Avengers’ current mandate was to destroy HYDRA. A familiar weight of numbness, grief, guilt, and rage propelled Steve forward again. He didn’t have time to sit around talking about it. Captain America was needed to do what supersoldiers did best.

Destroy.

The Avengers eyed him with open worry. Steve knew he was acting reckless, irrational, and dangerous. He couldn’t care. Not when Bucky was out there without him in uncertain physical and mental condition.

A month into Steve’s blood vengeance, they were running out of active locations and Steve’s teammates unanimously agreed to make him take a night off. He was lying on a bed in a hotel in Naples, reading the updates Tony had promised while he tried to construct an argument that would let him continue their campaign against HYDRA, when the phone in his hand rang.

“Rog-”

He was cut off. JARVIS said, “Captain Rogers, I am forwarding a call from an unidentified source. The caller claims to be the Winter-”

“Bucky?” Steve sat up, blood racing.

“-Soldier. He insists he will hang up and not call back if you say more than ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Do you-”

“Yes, I accept his terms!”

There was a pause before the line began to crackle with noise. Steve pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep himself from speaking. He wanted to call Bucky’s name, but he couldn’t fuck this up.

A sound that might have been a deep inhalation rose out of the background noise.

Then: “Steve?”

Bucky. It was Bucky.

“Yes,” Steve said at once. He waited, hardly daring to breathe.

From the other end, all he could hear was breathing. “Steve. Please?”

“Yes,” Steve said again, not even caring what Bucky wanted his yes for.

The call ended.

Always glad to see this updating, thank you!

(A!A) Thank YOU!

JARVIS reluctantly agreed not to volunteer information about the call. His teammates were shocked by his willingness to take a longer break. For a week, Steve waited in the hotel in Naples. He knew, logically, that staying put wouldn’t actually make it any easier for Bucky to contact him again, but he was loathe to leave the last place he had heard Bucky’s voice. He didn’t know what he had agreed to. In hindsight, he had done an extremely foolish thing. What if Bucky had walked through the door and expected sex? Steve couldn’t take the risk of refusing him anything. Days later, he hadn’t shown up anywhere. Maybe Bucky wanted him to wait where he was? He didn’t need Natasha to tell him how compromised he was. Now that he wasn’t with HYDRA, he felt more compromised than before.

He lay on his bed with his phone charging and stared at the screen. Steve’s phone rarely left his hand. Tony and Natasha teased him about finally acting like a millennial. Steve had said he would take one week total. If he didn’t hear anything more, he would have to start moving again.

The time on his phone ticked over. No Bucky.

“Dammit,” Steve muttered, set his phone on the nightstand, and covered his face with his hands. “Fuck!”

The phone rang.

Steve nearly broke it in his haste to answer. In case it was Bucky, he bit back his habitual greeting and said, “Yes?”

“Someone just torched an allegedly abandoned senior center in Arkansas,” said Natasha.

He took a deep breath and tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “HYDRA?”

“Yes. And-”

Steve’s phone began to flash. “Give me a moment, Natasha. I’m getting another call.” He switched. “Yes?”

“Captain Rogers,” JARVIS said, “You have a call waiting from Sergeant Barnes. He has conveyed the same conditions as last time. Shall I connect you?”

“Yes!” Steve said hastily.

White noise nearly drowned out Bucky’s hesitant voice. “Steve?”

“Yes,” Steve confirmed. Buck, was that you? Are you hurt? Did you set the fire? Talk to me, say anything, please. All he could do was say yes or no.

“Mission complete,” Bucky offered, almost making it a question.

Report? Fuck, I can’t say that. “Yes?” he tried.

It was enough. It had been Bucky in Arkansas. Steve listened to his concise report for a mission no handler had ordered. Report complete, Bucky asked, “Steve, does it please you? May I?”

May he what? “Yes?” Steve said cautiously.

Bucky exhaled raggedly. “Thank you.”

Steve sat on the hotel bed with his phone pressed to his ear and couldn’t say a word. All he could hear was Bucky’s increasingly labored breathing. Was he injured? It couldn’t have been long since his attack. The time difference between Arkansas and Italy was what, seven hours? He was fairly sure Arkansas was on Eastern Time the same as New York. The middle of the day for Steve was early morning for Bucky. Was it light out yet where Bucky was? Could he see daylight? Was this his first independent strike against HYDRA? Why had he decided to call? What did he need from Steve? How could Steve convince him to come back? What was wrong with his breathing?

Bucky gasped, breath hitching.

Wait, what?

A desperate whimper hit Steve’s ear. Bucky’s breathing was forceful and rapid

There was no way Bucky had called him for… But it made sense. This was what happened after successful missions. How Bucky was getting around the requirement of direct orders, Steve didn’t know, but it was clear he still needed Steve’s orders in some form.

“Steve, please?” Bucky begged. There was no other word for it. “Please?”

“Yes,” Steve said instantly, straining his ears.

There was nothing to hear. The call had ended.

Natasha’s voice startled him. “Steve?”

He shook himself a little. “Yeah, ah, sorry ‘bout that.” Face and neck hot, he coughed, awkward. “Forgot you were still on the line.”

“Uh huh,” she said. “What’s going on with you? Who were you talking to?”

“Bucky,” he confessed. Natasha raised an eyebrow, and Steve slumped in relief when she didn’t immediately demand details. “But he didn’t give me much chance to talk.”

“You were gone almost twenty minutes.”

Oh, God. “He, ah, had a mission report to deliver.” If it had been anyone but Natasha, he wouldn’t have continued. Since it was, it was much easier to tell her now and not worry about being interrogated ater. “And then I think he asked for permission to jerk off.”

“Which you gave,” she stated.

“Which I gave,” Steve confirmed, trying not to think about it.

There was a long pause.

“Interesting.” Natasha gave nothing away. “We’re regrouping at the Tower. Do you plan to join us?”

Steve hesitated. It made no difference where he was as long as he could connect. “He won’t have stuck around.”

“We’ll pick you up in half an hour. Debrief en route.”

Steve left out everything after Bucky’s mission report.

A pattern became established. Bucky would call. Steve would say yes. Within a few days, Bucky would hit a HYDRA-related target, be it a single operative or a whole installation. He would call and report to Steve, then ask permission for… something else.

Steve always said yes. He knew it was dangerous to essentially be giving the Winter Soldier carte blanche, but he was terrified of the potential consequences if he said anything else. Bucky had killed several high-level agents, even a few in protective custody. One of them hadn’t been linked to HYDRA directly until after his murder. Fury tried to give Steve hell for that, but Steve had quit, damn it. He didn’t trust Fury, who had never given him a clear answer regarding his knowledge about Insight. Fury and Pierce had been friends for a reason. Their methods were far too similar. He was going back to his previous plan to see every member of HYDRA dead or imprisoned. Protective custody anywhere but in a concrete cell was not acceptable.

By the end of Bucky’s fourth mission report, Steve was such an anxious mess, he actually agreed to talk with Natasha while the deprogrammer watched from another room. At first, he tried to leave out the sexual aspect, but Natasha was relentless. Steve broke like a rotten plank, splinters of dark filth and little things that slithered, writhed, oozed, and bit scattered all over.

“Don’t tell me it’s okay, Natasha!” he snarled, half-rising from his chair. “It’s not and I hate myself for wanting it to be!”

“Hey,” she said quietly, so quietly he had to stop raging to hear her. “Come here, Steve.”

Exhausted, he shuffled over to stand in front of her. She offered a hand, palm up, and he pulled her to her feet without looking at her. He couldn’t say anything and he refused to cry in front of the stranger.

“Shhh,” said Natasha and wrapped him in her arms. She was so strong. How was she so strong when Steve was all in pieces? “I’m not going to say that. I’m not going to say that. It’s a bad situation all around. I’m not going to say that.”

No fuckin’ shit. He made a sound that might generously have been identified as a huff of laughter, but honestly had more in common with a sob of gratitude.

“I hate feeling helpless,” Steve mumbled. “I hate being helpless.”

“Shhhhh,” said Natasha and held him tighter.

“I can’t leave him out in the cold,” Steve said. “I have to find him.

“At least this is a good indication he’s recovering memory,” Clint offered.

“There has to be some way of getting ahead of him.”

His teammates exchanged glances. Tony nodded reluctantly.

Steve tried not to grind his teeth.

“More data,” Tony told him. “The more data points we have, the easier it will be to make predictions.”

“How many more?”

Tony flipped a hand in his direction. “Maybe half a dozen? Winter Wanderer is all over the map. This would be a lot easier if you could ask some questions.”

“No.”

“Steve’s right,” Natasha backed him up. “Barnes has to set the terms of their relationship or we’ll lose him for good.”

Tony sighed. “Fine. Let’s just watch the body count rise.”

“If he keeps going like he has, that shouldn’t be more than a few weeks,” Clint pointed out.

Steve sagged a little and squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay.”

Bucky did not like being chased.

“Are you following me?” he demanded, fear and anger radiating through the phone line.

Steve swallowed. “Yes.”

Breaking from routine, Bucky hung up without another word.

Steve couldn’t stop. If Bucky was worried, that had to mean they were getting too close.

it's equally sad and adorable that Bucky is calling with these little self-designed missions that he thinks will please Steve, and then asking for permission to jerk off. It's like when the cat leaves you some chewed up bird and wants praise.

And I love how he could technically hang up but he keeps him on the line for it as well, like somewhere in there he still has his “embarrass Steve” instinct

(A!A) Or like he needs permission to come? No reason it can’t be both, though. ;-)

The immediate consequence of Steve's latest yes was that Bucky broke all his previous patterns and went to ground. He wasn't at the next predicted location before or after the Avengers and there weren't any new hits, of any kind, for almost three weeks.

Steve thought maybe this was it. Maybe he shouldn't have answered the question.

After the first week, with no call, no sightings, and no sign of activity, Steve's initial optimism dropped away with all the speed of the motorcycle going over a cliff. Steve had never done well when he couldn’t fight. Later, he would have to admit that, if he had been alone, he might well have let himself just waste away.

His sleeping habits had been shit since Bucky’s vanishing act, not that they’d been great before. He stopped interacting with the others outside of official avengers business. He had no appetite or motivation for actual meals. He consumed calories only because it was routine—and because JARVIS insisted on reminding him to do so. Not wanting to hear from anyone, unless it was Bucky, Steve tried to ask him to stop. The denial was firm. JARVIS would have to report if he was endangering himself.

After three straight days of not seeing anyone at all, Natasha let herself into his bedroom. Steve turned his head from where he was lying on his back on the floor next to the bed and saw she was carrying a dark purple canvas bag lined with silvery insulation material. It smelled like food. Meat and potatoes vegetables and butter. Fresh bread. Something sweet and dairy. Chocolate.

He wanted none of it and glared halfheartedly. It was hard to muster the emotional energy to really protest either the intrusion or the assumption.

Feeling half out of body, he observed her put the bag down next to him and reach out with both hands to grab him by the collar. With something like detached curiosity, he let her pull him upright and drag him sideways so he was propped in a sitting position against the side of the bed.

He blinked slowly. Her mouth was an unhappy line.

"I've been eating," Steve said dully.

Shaking her head, Natasha corrected him. "No, Steve. You've been maintaining your super soldier body."

He flinched at maintaining and knew she was right.

"You can do better than this, Steve.”

She reached into the bag and lifted out a takeout box which she set in his lap and a fork which she slapped directly into his hand. She told him to open the box.

He complied. Chicken. Green beans. Mashed potatoes. A roll with a little foil pat of butter. Nothing complicated or unfamiliar.

“Eat,” she said.

Steve stabbed a forkful of green beans and put them in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed mechanically. It was as tasteless as Rumlow’s pasta had been.

“You have to make an effort here, Steve.” Natasha balanced on her toes, back against the bedroom wall, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands.

He stared at her obliquely, hoping she would leave. He’d deserve it if she did.

“I missed my chance,” he rasped, finally putting words to a persistent dark thought. “I didn’t have to accept his terms. Tony was right. I could have asked questions.”

Natasha’s face softened incrementally, but she said nothing.

“He called the tower,” Steve said. “He told JARVIS his conditions so they were in place before we ever talked.” He knew that she knew what he was getting at. He couldn’t have been the only one thinking it, even if only Tony had said something. To give himself a little more time, he took a forkful of chicken and pretended it needed more chewing than it did. “I was one of his HYDRA handlers,” he stated bleakly. “I could have ignored everything he said and he still would have listened to me. He wouldn’t have had a choice.” He stared at the wall next to Natasha, unable to meet her eyes. “You shouldn’t have backed me up with Tony. He was right. I should have asked questions while I had the chance.”

Natasha lifted her head and regarded him with a carefully non-judgemental gaze. “You could have given him orders,” she said.

Steve nodded and looked away again. “Yeah.”

“And he could hate and fear you,” she added, tone unchanged, “as much as his other handlers.” She caught his eyes when they darted back to her face. “You’re not HYDRA, Steve. They didn’t make you one of them. A real HYDRA handler would have crossed that line. You still know where it is.”

Wordless, Steve shook his head. He wasn’t even sure what he was denying.

With a sigh, Natasha reachd into the bag and pulled out another box for herself.

They ate in silence. Steve picked at his food while Natasha ate hers at a more measured pace.

When she was finished, she watched him for a while, then said, “Are you done?”

He nodded.

She took his half-finished box of food, packed everything back into the canvas bag, and slung everything over her shoulder. For a long moment, she stood over him, looked down. “Steve,” she said.

He looked up and knew she could read his shame and exhaustion.

“You’re making breakfast for everyone tomorrow,” she said.

Maybe he would have resented the order, but all he could feel was relief that someone still believed he could accomplish even that much.

He nodded.

Natasha turned to go. She’d just closed the door when Steve abruptly found himself on his feet.

“Wait,” he said, opening the door to find her waiting with raised eyebrows. He froze, flushing with shame. “What makes you so sure? I crossed so many lines already.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up in what was less a smirk and more a grimace. “He talked to you, Steve,” she reminded him, but he didn’t understand.

“That doesn’t mean he trusts me or even should trust me,” he pointed out.

She frowned at him. “Yes,” she said. “It does.”

The Avengers were onto him. The more responsibilities to the team he had, the more he had to leave his room and interact with them. His sleep quality was so low he wasn’t sure why he even tried.

Clint told him flat-out that if anyone (read HYDRA) had ever developed a supersoldier anti-depressant, they would have made him take it, even if Natasha had to immobilize him with a Widow’s Bite first.

Steve didn’t care. If there was no light at the end of the tunnel (read Bucky), he didn’t care if this heavy numb misery crushed him to nothing. The world had managed without him for seventy years. He wasn’t essential. He wasn’t so arrogant as to think they really needed him, not like Bucky, and if he couldn’t help Bucky, what the hell was he good for except hurting people and inspiring others to do the same?

You can’t help being what you are, Rumlow had said. Steve didn’t know what he was, but he didn’t feel like much of a superhero.

He caught himself wondering if the maintenance chair really had been a sort of kindness and then stopped in the middle of drying a plate, put it down on the counter with shaking hands, and fled to initiate a meeting with the deprogrammer he had been avoiding for months.

If that wasn’t rock bottom, he didn’t know or want to know what was.

“You can help me fix my thinking,” he blurted, before a word could come out of the other man’s mouth.

The deprogrammer looked at him with interest. “Precisely,” he said slowly. “I can help you fix your thinking, but the hard work will be all yours. Do you understand my meaning, Steve Rogers?”

Steve nodded jerkily and collapsed into a chair across the room from the man.

“How do I start?”

Bucky called four days later. It felt like a reward from the universe, despite what Bucky had to say.

It wasn’t a mission report. Not really.

“I went to the Ranch,” the Winter Soldier said, without a trace of Brooklyn. “The computers were intact.”

That might be useful information. There hadn’t been a question, however, so Steve said nothing.

Natasha squeezed his hand. The new protocol for Bucky’s calls was that Steve not take them alone.

“There were records... “ Bucky trailed off raggedly and Steve was struck by sudden foreboding stronger than the accent creeping into Bucky’s voice. “Records of… Fuck, Steve. If you hadn’t told me, I wouldna believed it. I thought… But it’s true.”

Steve didn’t dare respond to that when he wasn’t sure what Bucky meant and--

“You’re not who I thought,” said Bucky. “Stop hunting me. You won’t like what happens if you try to bring me in again.”

No. He opened his mouth to say it, but Bucky beat him to the punch.

“I shoulda gone with Rumlow,” Bucky growled and hung up before Steve could even process a reaction.

At least they had two more location hits to go on now. The prospect of Bucky returning to HYDRA galvanized their efforts to find him first.

When Tony’s next prediction was a location in Arizona, not even out of the country, Steve convinced the team he was stable enough to go along. It wasn’t like they expected combat. They probably wouldn’t even find anything.

“Be careful, Steve,” Natasha reminded him, unnecessarily. “If he decides to take you out, he could do it with a bullet from a mile away and never give you a chance to change his mind.”

Steve set his jaw. “I’ll take that risk.”

“There’s nothing here either,” Steve reported. He looked down from the edge toward the winding Colorado river far below. All that red and gold and blue. How he wished Bucky, the Bucky he’d known or the version he’d thought he was starting to understand, was there to see it with him.

If he threw himself over the edge, would the fall kill him? No, he decided. He’d hit things on the way down, lose momentum. The fall from the train hadn’t killed Bucky. A tumble into the Grand Canyon wouldn’t kill Steve.

He took a step back and told himself he hadn’t seriously considered the possibility of stepping off the cliff. He almost believed it. He’d had a lot of practice believing his own lies now.

“Do you want me to circle around and pick you up?” was all Natasha asked.

“Nah,” Steve told her. “I’ll take the scenic route. Feel like I might even sketch a little. See you back at the hotel.”

“I’ll see you later, then. Keep your phone on, Steve.”

When it came, it wasn't just a bullet from a mile away. It was also a tranq from less than fifty yards. The bullet took him in the calf. The tranq hit him in the shoulder.

The sniper could have put them wherever he wanted. That suggested he wanted Steve alive. Steve put pressure on his leg wound but didn’t try to fight the effects of the tranquilizer. He passed out.

Steve woke up. The room was mostly dark and very cold. It smelled of old blood. He was hanging from a hook in the ceiling, restrained with a familiar set of mag cuffs. His leg, though it pulsed with hot agony, had been bandaged. His cowl, gloves, and boots were all missing.

Bucky stood in front of him, spinning a knife through the fingers of his right hand.

“Are you here to kill me?” Steve asked him.

Bucky smiled, eyes closed almost to slits. The expression contained zero humor. “Some of the others asked me that too, you know.” He opened his eyes and cocked his head, examining Steve critically. “I’m going to ask you what I asked them,” he said. His tone was conversational but his expression was tight and his eyes were dark and hard with rage and fear.

Steve nodded as best he could. He owed Bucky whatever answers he could give.

“Why should I kill you?” Bucky asked, which was the opposite of what Steve had expected.

Didn’t matter. He knew what he had to say. Steve licked his lips. He couldn't say he was sorry. He couldn’t explain. Not yet. Maybe not ever if his answer was enough to provoke Bucky to kill him now. “I raped you. I beat you. I stood by and let you be tortured. I put you in the chair they used to wipe your mind, even when you struggled. Even when you tried to resist. I ordered you wiped when you remembered Natasha before Insight launched. I watched you scream. I hurt you and I let you be hurt.” He had to try anyway. “And I am so fucking sorry. But I did.”

Bucky looked utterly lost, shocked. Why? Why did he look surprised? “You’re… you’re the first one,” he said, slowly, wonderingly, and so clearly hurting over it. “You’re the first one who said you were sorry. The first one who said it was… rape and torture. I knew you were different.”

“I… uh… what?” Steve had told him all this before. They’d argued about it. What had happened to make Bucky so surprised now?

“I’m sorry too,” Bucky said and Steve was confused until he added, “for the bullet. Just because supersoldiers heal fast doesn’t mean we don’t feel it. I know. I’m sorry. I had to know.”

“Know?”

“That I could hurt you, Captain.” The last word came out dark and twisted. A curse.

Steve took a deep breath. He deserved that, he did. Bucky could shoot him in the head. Could leave him here to freeze or starve or suffocate. Could call up what was left of HYDRA and turn him over. It would be less than Steve deserved for his betrayal.

“I understand,” he said heavily.

Bucky didn’t say anything for several minutes. Steve began to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. He said nothing.

“For the sake of the relationship I thought we once had,” Bucky pronounced, “I choose not to kill you.”

Steve opened his mouth to say… Thank you? I understand? I’m sorry?

Bucky glared. Steve snapped his mouth shut.

“Don’t look for me anymore. I remember more every day. If I see you again, I might feel differently.”

Steve nodded weakly. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. Whatever you need to--”

Bucky was staring at him with wide eyes. “Bucky?” he repeated.

Steve stared back, not understanding.

“But…” his voice was suddenly small, uncertain, afraid, barely even accusing. “You said I’m not Bucky.”

augh this update is killing me

Bucky clearly recovering more and reclaiming more of his self and power

But the last line AUGH

(A!A) something will eventually make sense, I promise.

The pain in Steve’s body was nothing to the horror of finally understanding Bucky’s flight from the tower. The lack of sexual advances, the apology, identifying himself to JARVIS as the Winter Soldier… it all made sense.

It was all Steve’s fault.

Steve drew in a ragged breath and swallowed against his rising gorge.

Oh, fuck, Bucky. I’m a terrible Steve.

“No,” he choked out, breath fogging in the cold of the meat truck. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… I… No, Bucky. No.”

The Winter Soldier shrank back with an almost imperceptible flinch at Steve’s raised voice.

“But you said...You asked the Widow. If you were real...or if you were like me. That means… I’m not. You promised we were real. You lied. I can’t trust you.”

“We are!” Desperate for Bucky to listen, but without any real intention to escape, Steve twisted his wrists in the cuffs and strained on tiptoes to lean closer. “You’re Bucky Barnes. My best friend and the person I love most in the whole goddamn world.”

Bucky looked away. “No, I’m not. I can’t be. Steve Rogers couldn’t have used the real Bucky the way you used me. He didn’t even want Bucky, not really. They were both too stubborn and too afraid to be together.”

Seizing on that, Steve argued, “You wouldn’t even know that if you weren’t the real Bucky. We never told anyone we could have loved each other like that. We did love each other. We promised to never act on it. I broke that promise. I’m sor--.”

When Bucky looked back at him, his eyes were wet, a glimmer in the dark trailer. “You’re wrong. That only proves HYDRA taught us the same lessons. The files I’ve found were all meant to support Barnes Protocols. They had to be. You were right before. Not real. We can’t be real. Steve would have saved Bucky from HYDRA again. Or--or given him what he needed as his asset.”

“I was doubting myself, not you, and I was wrong! Of course I didn’t want to treat you like HYDRA. It was abuse! We’ve had this conversation!” His head was spinning again. He didn’t think it was due to blood loss. Fuck, he hated feeling helpless.

Fists balled and arm whirring. Bucky shouted, “It was my life, Steve! It is my life. Am I yours or not? Why can’t I please you?”

“You called me Steve,” Steve blurted.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to call you? Answer the goddamn question.” Bucky snarled.

“I… Buck. It’s not right. I don’t own you. I never did.”

There was an echoing thump as Bucky’s knees hit the floor of the trailer. “You could,” he whispered. “Everything would make sense again.”

“God, Bucky,” Steve breathed. He couldn’t even…

“Please, Steve.” said Bucky, shuffling forward. “Please. Don’t you want me?” A warm hand settled on Steve’s right thigh, searing in a completely different way than the pulse of pain though his other leg.

Steve jerked away. “Buck, stop. Not like this.”

Slowly, Bucky moved closer, pressing his shoulder and the side of his face into Steve’s legs.

“Bucky…”

Something was wrong. Movement outside.

Bucky’s head whipped around and he scrambled to his feet.

“Buck, wait!” Steve called, but it was too late. Bucky was gone again.

Steve let the tears fall to patter against the frost below.

“I did warn you,” said Natasha, examining the dressing on his bullet wound. “And you left your shield with your bike.”

Steve grit his teeth. “I didn’t feel like carrying it.”

She sat back and regarded him. “Steve.”

“Natasha.”

“It was a stupid risk,” she said finally.

Shaking his head, Steve turned away. “I had to give him his shot. He didn’t take it.” Not really, anyway, not the way Steve meant. This was a flesh wound, half-healed already.

“And now what?”

He fingered the shred of paper he’d found in the toe of his right boot. “I give him another shot.”

“He could kill you, Steve.”

Steve shook his head again. “He hasn’t yet.”

43Q BA 71960 96431. A promise.

When Steve woke up, he wished he didn’t know where he was.

“Stevie.”

It was Bucky’s voice. It was Bucky. It had to be. That, or HYDRA had finally broken Steve and all the time since that mission was a dream he’d conjured to escape reality.

“Bucky?” Steve coughed. He licked his dry lips and found them dusted with a slightly sour powder. He’d been drugged. Of course he’d been drugged. Had everything after this place been in Steve’s head? Was this the asset?

No. The past few weeks came back to him. He’d come to meet Bucky and...

“Do you know where you are?”

“HYDRA safehouse in Navi Mumbai,” he croaked. He couldn’t see Bucky. He couldn’t move at all. He’d been restrained to the bed with bonds meant to hold a Winter Soldier. He shouldn’t even be surprised.

“You ever have me here?” The question was mild, expressing only light curiosity, like the answer didn’t really matter.

It mattered. Oh, how it mattered.

“Once.”

“Tell me.”

“It was pretty early. Only us, Rumlow, and Rollins. No one suggested the restraints. Rumlow said I should fuck you but I jerked you off instead.” You smiled at me, after. I am so so sorry.

“I don’t remember.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “I remember everything.”

The mattress dipped as Bucky sat. “Tell me?”

“I always loved you,” Steve began. “Do you remember how we met, Buck?”

“We met on a STRIKE mission.”

“Did we? How did we meet before?”

“When we were real? I… We were kids? I stepped into a fight you were losing.”

“I almost took a swing at you,” Steve offered, testing. “And we are real.”

“You did take a swing at me,” Bucky corrected. “Never needed anyone to step in for you.”

“Not true. I always needed you.”

The silence stretched.

Steve opened his eyes again. “Buck.”

“What about when I needed you, Stevie?”

“You deserve better. I’m sorry.”

Bucky said nothing.

“I don’t know what to say, Buck,” Steve confessed, mouth dry.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t even know who we are.”

The door slammed.

Steve was alone with his growing headache, serious dehydration, the enormous gang-rape bondage bed, and his toxic thoughts.

By the time Natasha arrived to free him, he still hadn’t tested the restraints.

Well, I guess Bucky and Steve are slowly figuring it out. Poor Nat, though, having to play mother hen to these two confused supersoldiers.

Love the line about how if he were really Bucky, then Steve wouldn't have used him. Quality Trash <3 <3 <3

(A!A) No, really not fair. Thank you!

Nat: Where are you going, Steve?
Steve: Bucky wants to drug me, kidnap me, and then emote at me awkwardly and have volatile mood swings. Potentially stab me. Or maybe just cuff me somewhere.
Nat: ...
Steve: It's okay, he won't kill me. It's like therapy.
Nat: ...
Steve: I've charged into worse.
Nat: *sigh* okay fine, I'll go pick you up in 3 hours.

Re: Fill 107/110: Undeniable Plausibility - On to the aftermath!

(Anonymous) - 2018-08-10 06:28 (UTC) - Expand

I'm so excited I've been waiting on this update for what felt like forever (I realize it wasn't much time at all but I was on the edge of my seat)

(A!A) It actually was longer than usual. Sorry, I know it was a serious cliffhanger. I wanted it to be right.

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.

:D!

Aww this is so sweet.

(... Er, as much as it can be. Under the circumstances.)

(A!A) These two need SO much therapy.

Btw, a reader on Ao3 asked if there was a missing sex scene right before the end there. There is not. That would be so fucked up that I, after writing over 122k of other assorted awfulness, did not even consider it.

Re: Fill 108/110: Undeniable Plausibility - On to the aftermath!

(Anonymous) - 2018-08-23 07:39 (UTC) - Expand

Yay for Bucky slowly getting his agency back again! This is so tender and sweet.

(A!A)

Yes, yay!

Bucky explained during his next call. “You brought most of those in with you and you didn’t sweep the place after you went out,” he said. His voice was both baffled and slightly critical. “I took three out of your jacket and one out of the clock radio.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said. The words felt next to meaningless by now. He wasn’t even sure exactly what he was apologising for this time. Not checking his hotel room for bugs?

“Do better,” Bucky said, and there was as much fear and uncertainty in that order as there was anything else.

“Yes, Bucky,” Steve agreed. Evidence suggested Bucky wanted him alive. The least Steve could do was take care of himself a little better.

Later that week, when Bucky climbed heavily onto his bed smelling like leather, blood, sweat, and acrid smoke, Steve kept his eyes closed and simply inhaled.

“You’re awake,” said Bucky. He sounded like the asset.

“Pr’tty sure I’m dreamin’,” Steve mumbled, lips barely moving.

“So goddamn fucking stupid,” hissed Bucky, more like himself, except he was the asset was Bucky too and Steve was too bone-deep run-down to puzzle on it right then. “I could do anything to you right now. Anything.”

The bed was shaking a little. At first, Steve thought it was Bucky moving around, but it was too subtle and regular for that.

Bucky was shaking. Enough to affect the whole bed.

Steve opened his eyes and turned to look. “Buck?”

The Winter Soldier was curled up on the other side of the bed. He was wearing a full set of his old HYDRA gear, fully armed, black smeared around his wild blue eyes. There was dry blood misted and splattered all over him. “I don’t. I don’t. I. Another handler.”

But Bucky Barnes was curled in on himself, shaking and hugging his knees as close to his chest as what he was wearing would allow and that was all Steve could see. “Please, Stevie. I don’t wanna.”

Bucky flinched when Steve sat up. “You don’t gotta do anything you don’t want, Buck. I swear-”

“Almost took me back,” Bucky interrupted and Steve had to crush the impulse to grab hold of the shivering supersoldier. “Tried to gimme another handler. I don’t. I didn’ wan’it. Swear, Stevie. I’m still yours.”

“Bucky-”

“An’ an’, you said. You said. No one else is my handler now. No one gets t’ tell me who I am. I’m yours.”

Horrified, Steve wasn’t sure what part to try to tackle first since he couldn’t simply tackle Bucky himself. “You-”

“Steve. Please, Steve. Tell me. Tell me I remember right. I’m yours, Steve. Promised.”

“You’re my friend,” Steve said, inadequately. He reached out carefully, laying his arm out just short of Bucky’s knee. From the looks of it, those knees had been kneeling in blood at some point recently.

Bucky swallowed hard and shook his head. “I’m not.”

Before Steve’s pounding heart could plummet too far, Bucky continued: “Only. Not only. You don’t love me-”

Steve’s damned soul, if he still had one, lurched.

“-like that,” Bucky finished on a terrified whisper. He stared directly into Steve’s face, searching.

Breathe, Steve reminded himself. This wasn’t Bucky trying to seduce him because it was all he remembered or suggesting Steve make use of either of the asset’s functions. This was pure panic and demands for honest answers. He owed Bucky whatever he wanted and what he wanted right now was the awful truth.

“You remember right, Buck,” he said softly.

“Yeah?” Bucky’s breathed, terrified and hopeful, eyes locked on Steve.

“We’re more than friends,” Steve confirmed.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Bucky exhaled.

He surged across the bed, pressed Steve down into the mattress, and pressed their lips firmly together at an awkward angle that Steve was sure had to hurt both their noses.

Bucky.

Steve heard himself make a... noise and tried to bring his hands up to do… something.

Before Steve could fully process the kiss, Bucky rolled off him, evading the reflexive grasp quick as he’d ever moved, and was out the hotel window Steve hadn’t even known could open.

There were fewer crushed cameras and microphones left for him this time.

The Avengers weren’t out of the fight against HYDRA, even if Steve was taking a break. They weren’t looking for Bucky specifically, but Steve knew, before Tony told him, that there hadn’t been any evidence of the Winter Soldier more than a few states from where Steve remained in DC.

Natasha visited once, watching Steve closely as she investigated his hotel.

Steve didn’t so much as try to pretend Bucky hadn’t been there. He couldn’t. Not with Natasha.

How does he keep doing this? Is he drugging me? Is he just that quiet? I’m a supersoldier too, damnit. How do you keep doing this, Buck?

He might as well be a kid waiting up for Santa with all the luck he was having waiting up for Bucky. Natasha wasn’t going to be happy, but she wouldn’t be surprised either, given who they were talking about.

Steve didn’t bother sweeping the rooms he stayed in for more immediately deadly threats like bombs or assassins other than the Winter Soldier. Steve had no secrets other than those pertaining to Bucky and Bucky did a better job of it anyway.

Like Natasha could.

“Found it,” she announced, and withdrew a tiny white plastic ball from under the bed.

She brandished it at Steve. Steve had no idea what he might be looking at except that it didn’t look like any of the tiny cameras he’d seen before.

“Motion detector. Like a tiny pedometer.”

“That’s how he knows when I’m asleep?”

Natasha stared at him until it dawned on him what he’d admitted.

“Knows?”

“I’m not dead,” Steve pointed out.

Natasha appeared to be considering changing that.

It might not be what anyone else considered a reasonable answer, but it was true and that meant something. It meant a whole damn lot.

“Steve,” said Bucky.

“I love you,” Steve said immediately. It was the only greeting he wanted to give. His apologies were pointless and maybe what Bucky really wanted out of these calls was for Steve to say no and order him back. Steve wouldn’t do that. It might be his wishful thinking.

“How do I stop?” Bucky asked and for an awful wonderful moment Steve thought he was asking how to stop loving Steve. “I don’t… I’m a Winter Soldier. I only know two things. You stopped. How do I stop?”

God, I wish I knew.

Steve didn’t honestly know if he had stopped fighting.

“You know more than that now,” he said.

“Remembering and knowing aren’t the same thing, Steve,” Bucky argued. “How?”

There was probably something wrong with how much Steve liked it when Bucky argued with him, but that wasn’t something he could fully blame on HYDRA.

At least he’s admitting to memories and not lessons.

“I… ah.” Steve cleared his throat, struggling for the words, which was ironic given what he had to say. “It’s hard, Buck. It ain’t like it use’ta be. These days, it’s all about talking. That’s what’s... Normal now.”

The silence on the other end of the line grew long enough to worry him. If he hadn’t been able to pick up Bucky’s breathing, he’d have worried more.

“You…” Bucky’s voice trailed off like he’d spun his volume dial down. “You… Steve. You talk?”

“I didn’t say I was any good at it,” he retorted in instinctive response to Bucky’s disbelief.

There was a startled bark of laughter from the other end and then the dial tone.

Steve imagined the laugh had shocked Bucky as badly as it had him.

“What’s a man-purse?” Bucky asked, waking Steve from one of his last nights in DC.

Steve’s excuse for staying would expire at the end of the week. He would have to go back to New York and who knew if Bucky would follow. He’d escaped the tower once, but that didn’t mean they would be able to continue as they had been.

“A what?” he repeated blankly, turning his head. Bucky didn’t appear to be wearing a purse of any description. The blood-soaked combat gear had thankfully been replaced by a civilian jacket and jeans. The ball cap that completed the ensemble was currently on his bedside table upside down like a cup. It was holding Bucky’s latest sampling of modern surveillance equipment. He didn’t think that was what Bucky meant by man-purse. “No idea, sorry.”

“I met someone,” said Bucky.

Don’t panic. He doesn’t mean it like that and even if he does, it’s okay. Whatever Bucky wants. It’s okay. Don’t panic.

But it would break his heart and, god, Steve hated himself. “Yeah?”

“For talking. Like you said?”

Relief crashed over him. Steve was a fucking monster for worrying. “That’s great, Buck.”

“People talk. He helps people talk.”

Had Bucky somehow acquired a therapist in the five days since his last call?

“Does it help?”

Steve should call his own.

“Listening helps,” said Bucky. “And being listened to.”

“I’m glad,” said Steve. He meant that.

Bucky didn’t call.

Bucky didn’t visit.

Bucky didn’t call.

“Captain Rogers,” said JARVIS.

“Yes, JARVIS?” Steve said, hope rising. It had been two weeks since he’d last heard or seen Bucky. Any longer and Steve was going to have start paying Tony for all the punching bags he was going through.

“You have a-”

Bucky! “Put him through, please,” he said.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” JARVIS said.

“Why not?” asked Steve. He knew he sounded desperate. “It is him, right?”

“Because you do not have a call, Captain Rogers. You have a visitor.”

Tony Stark had definitely created that robot, AI, whatever JARVIS was.

Steve didn’t even care.

“My other friend says fake it ‘till you make it is a legit coping strategy,” was the first thing Bucky told him.

Steve hesitated just out of hugging range. “Bucky,” he said, trying not to choke up.

Bucky smiled at him. The expression didn’t look any more fragile than Steve remembered from the war. “C’mere, punk.”

It had been so damn long since Steve had been the one to touch.

“I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let HYDRA screw up my chance to have what I’ve wanted since we were teenagers,” said Bucky into his shoulder. “Fuck HYDRA. They can’t have us. Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers ‘till the end of the line, right, pal?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve said. “Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers ‘till the end of the line.”

*HOWLS IN JOY* THIS IS SO WONDERFUL I CAN'T BELIEVE WE GET ONE MORE AFTER THIS
IT'S LIKE FINDING OUT THERE'S MORE ICE CREAM TO BE HAD

Re: Fill 109/110: Undeniable Plausibility - On to the aftermath!

(Anonymous) - 2018-09-11 11:58 (UTC) - Expand

“I’m tired,” Bucky breathed, slumping into Steve instead of pulling away from the hug. “Can we go upstairs and take it easy for a little?”

Nodding rapidly, Steve said, “Yeah, of course. Whatever you want, Buck.” The elevator arrived without comment from JARVIS. Steve was grateful not to have any reminders that they were under surveillance. The AI was an ally, not an enemy, but it still grated.

Steve offered to get Bucky something to eat or drink, but the other supersoldier was already dropping his duffle bag by the door of the bedroom Steve had been using. Without hesitation, Bucky started to pull off his long-sleeved shirt. “I missed layin’ down with you.” He studied Steve’s uncertain hovering. “We don’ have to get naked or do anything else.”

It still felt like they were teetering on the top of a very slippery slope, but Steve couldn’t say no when Bucky was not only asking but also apparently willing to compromise. It had to be a good sign that he wasn’t so focused on fucking or fighting anymore. Maybe it was all pretend, but it was pretend for both their sakes, wasn’t it? Bucky wasn’t just trying to please Steve anymore.

They both stripped down to boxers and lay down on the bed.

“Y’know what else I want?” Bucky asked, rolling onto his side and bringing himself almost close enough to touch. There hadn’t been a repeat of the kiss.

That kiss. Steve had mixed emotions about that kiss. Very mixed.

“You not to talk for a bit, maybe,” Bucky answered himself. “Just nod or shake your head. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Steve blinked at him in the semi-darkness and barely dared to breathe.

“Can I touch you, Steve?”

Last time Bucky had asked, Steve had got himself all worked up over an innocent gesture. This time, he nodded.

Bucky scooted closer until his legs and hip were pressed along Steve’s side. Then a hand, Bucky’s left, oh fuck, slid over Steve’s pelvis to cup Steve’s rapidly growing bulge through his boxers.

"Jesus, Bucky," Steve groaned, all attempts to stay quiet forgotten at once. Nothing innocent about that touch. He’d barely touched himself since their last HYDRA mission together. Still, this wasn’t right. “Wait, I’m not…”

”Shhhh," Bucky breathed, pale eyes intent and searching. "Anything, Steve. That's what you said. Whatever I want. Whatever I need to feel safe."

Chill metal cupped and held him. It felt like every single muscle in his fucking souped-up body tensed and relaxed. Gasping at the sensation, Steve nodded jerkily and tried not to break eye contact. He had said that. Anything.

"I need this," said Bucky, voice thick. "No one lets a weapon do this. It was different, with the drugs, with you, but I never got to choose it before.” His hand flexed and Steve’s whole body jerked in response. “Maybe I woulda, Stevie. If it was you asking.” The way his accent faded in and out lent an additional layer of unreality to what was happening.

“Buck, wait,” Steve gasped.

“I know you, Steve. When was the last time you let yourself feel pleasure? You said you wanted to be mine. Let me have you. Let yourself have this. Have me.”

“Bucky,” Steve said unsteadily.

“C’mon, pal. You know what I’ve been doing the last while. Really so unbelievable I want to do this instead now?”

Steve opened his mouth to explain his hesitation.

“Shut the fuck up, Captain Rogers,” Bucky snarled. The hand withdrew.

Captain Rogers shut the fuck up. Steve had almost forgotten how wrong that title was in Bucky’s mouth.

“You listen to me. You said. You said we’re not only friends. You said that. And if you try any bullshit about us being brothers, I swear, hand to God, Stevie.” Bucky fell abruptly silent and his expression made Steve intensely uncomfortable. What was left of his erection subsided completely.

When Bucky did nothing but stare down at him, face set, Steve tried prompting, “Yeah?”

In a low growl, Bucky repeated, “No talking. You said it. M’not gonna let you take it back,” but some of the confidence had gone out of him.

Steve made himself relax under Bucky’s sharp eyes. It was an act of will and he let the struggle show on his face while he kept his body easy and pliant.

“I love you, you goddamn fucking moron,” Bucky said, but he didn’t sound angry, or pleading, or even fond. He sounded tired. He sounded heartbroken. He stared into Steve’s eyes, looking for… something.

Steve couldn’t take it. He closed his.

Bucky grabbed him by both shoulders and shook him until he opened them again. “You don’t get it. You’re… you’re my one good person. You get that, right?” he demanded, expression twisted wretchedly. “I’d say my one good thing, but you’re not a thing.”

Neither are you. Steve put his tongue between his teeth and bit down to the edge of pain.

“We made it to the future. We’re together. Do you understand that? How amazing that is? It’s not just the future. It’s a future where we can be together,” Bucky said, a hard metal pointer finger emphasizing each word by poking him in the sternum hard enough to bruise even a supersoldier. “I want you. I want to be with you. To hell with the rest. We’ll fucking figure it out, got me?” He punctuated the question with another poke of his finger that was more like a stab.

Steve did his best to suppress the flinch, certain Bucky would misinterpret any negative reaction.

Bucky stared down at him for a while longer and then carefully pushed himself back up and removed his weight from Steve’s legs and chest.

Steve didn’t try to sit up, just turned his head to look at Bucky resettling next to him.

Bucky closed his eyes for a long moment and then scowled somewhere in the vicinity of Steve’s hip. “Now you can talk.”

“Okay,” Steve said immediately.

Bucky’s head jerked up in an untrusting glower.

“You’re right,” Steve said. “I’m yours. You can be mine if you want to. We can…” He stared at his feet. “We can pursue any kind of relationship you want. I just don't want to jump into anything you might regret or… feel… differently about.... later.”

The glower, which had been softening, returned with double intensity.

Hastily, Steve promised, “It’s not up to me to decide what that means for you. I just want you to know…” He hesitated of the wording for a long moment. “I don’t think I’m going to feel comfortable initiating anything between us for a long time, if ever. So, ah. Ball’s in your court, Buck. You’re in charge now. Just… please, Bucky, let’s take it slowly. Don’t let me not be good to you.”

Glare softening again a little, Bucky eyed him pensively until he gave a little nod to himself and his eyes darted away. “What if I don’t want to be in charge?” His eyes flicked back to Steve’s face and then skittered away to somewhere on Steve’s chest. “What if I’m the asset?”

Please no. Steve mentally stomped on his first response and made himself take a few long slow shaky breaths before answering.

“Your asset,” Bucky clarified, unnecessarily.

Your asset and your Bucky. Steve remembered. “I love you,” he said. “You’re the most important person in my life. I want you to be safe and happy. If…” He had to stop and take another few breaths. “If that’s what you want… some of the time or all of the time, even-” He tried not to let his voice break and failed. “Can you promise me you won’t let me hurt you again?”

“I don’t need to promise that. You won’t.”

“But I already have. What if-”

Bucky interrupted: “I’m going to kiss you,” and forcefully cut off what Steve was going to say. “HYDRA and SHIELD made us hurt each other,” he argued, almost against Steve’s lips as they broke the kiss. “That wasn’t us. We didn’t have the choices we have now.”

“No, I mean, yes! I mean. You shouldn’t be the one comforting me,” Steve protested. “Not after what I-”

“So. Goddamn. Stupid,” Bucky sighed, peppering Steve with kisses between words. He kissed Steve on the lips again. “Punk.” Their foreheads rested together. “You need a goddamn keeper, I swear.”

Job’s all yours. Steve was startled by the watery laugh escaping his own throat. “Bucky, asset, whatever you want to be, sweetheart, I-”

“Good thing I’m remembering how to handle you,” Bucky said dryly and flashed Steve a grin that looked almost genuine, stunning him into silence. “My other friend.”

“The one from DC who listened?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded. “He said there are different kinds and levels of intimacy, and if you’re scared…” There was a goading edge to the question as otherwise gentle as it was. “We can do some exploring before-”

“I’m terrified,” Steve blurted. On another occasion, he’d have risen to the challenge, but this was a different sort of challenge.

Flattening his upper body over Steve, Bucky nosed his cheek. It was the sort of gesture Steve associated with the asset, but it didn’t make his heart clench up in dread the way he’d expected.

“You think I’m not, pal?”

Neither of them said much of anything after that, though their cuddling brought them closer and closer.

Steve woke an unknown length of time later. He must have been sleeping with his mouth open because it felt gross and tacky. His eyes felt gritty. He went to lift his right arm to rub at them and when he couldn’t move, he looked down to find Bucky with both arms wrapped around it and a leg hooked over his waist, trapping him. Steve settled back and closed his eyes again.

“Hey,” said Bucky, quietly, not moving.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Steve replied.

“I woke up when you did.”

Of course he had.

“Want to go back to sleep?” Steve asked.

There was another long period of quiet. Just when Steve was beginning to drift off again, Bucky said, “...No. We should eat.”

Steve opened his eyes and looked down to see Bucky eying Steve’s midsection. He’d continued to lose weight and Bucky knew and was clearly unhappy about it.

“Can we go out to get something?” Bucky asked, a tentative note to the question that Steve really didn’t like.

Does he think he’s trapped here? Should he be? Steve wasn’t about to check with anyone who might confirm their lack of freedom. “Sure. It’s New York. Something will be open.”

The elevator came when Steve asked, so he figured that was good enough.

They ended up with burgers and bar snacks. Deep fried battered vegetables, five flavors of chicken wings, and little squares of pepperoni pizza.

It felt so good to watch Bucky eat that Steve didn’t notice his own burger going cold until Bucky was holding up a lump of battered something in front of his nose. “Open up?”

Automatically, Steve opened his mouth and let Bucky pop the thing into his mouth. He bit down and the juice of the mushroom nearly burned his tongue. Steve wasn’t a huge fan, but Bucky had fed it to him. As he chewed and swallowed, he considered the hunger in Bucky’s avid gaze. All he’d have to do was suggest they pack up their food and go back to the tower. It would be easy.

But he wasn’t about to start anything. Not yet, if ever. He wouldn’t take advantage.

“You haven’t touched me once since I got back,” Bucky accused, pursuing Steve into the bathroom.

Fighting the urge to groan, Steve hid a scowl behind a facecloth. He was still benched from anything except HYDRA missions, which had tapered off considerably, but no one was stopping him from helping in a non-combat role. The last week had seen him hauling trees and bits of buildings in an Ohio town that had been hit with some sort of man-made cyclone grown out of control.

Bucky, whose legal status could best be described as optimistically pending, wasn’t cleared for anything yet.

“I did say I wasn’t gonna start anything, Buck,” he reminded him.

“Can I start something, then?” Bucky demanded. “Wait, no, I’m not asking permission to want you. Take your fuckin’ bath alone.” He turned on his heel and stalked out.

Steve blinked after him, not exactly sure what was going on. When Bucky didn’t come back, he went back to hunting for tweezers. He thought they’d removed most of the splinters on-site, but he kept finding new ones being pushed out. The bathtub filled slowly.

A washcloth took off the worst of the grime before he stepped into the hot water. It had been a few weeks now since Steve had started taking baths instead of showers and he had to admit it helped. He actually felt clean when he finished a bath.

Bucky refused to do anything except shower unless they shared. Steve was not prepared to do that yet. The tub was big, but it wasn’t quite big enough to comfortably fit two supersoldiers without encouraging more wet naked canoodling than felt safe.

Slowly, Steve relaxed into the steaming water and reached for his shampoo. It something Bruce had cooked up for him that smelled like honey and milk and potassium hydroxide lye, and not at all like the products SHIELDRA had provided.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted.

Steve was out of the water and leaving a wet trail to the bedroom before the timbre of the cry registered.

Naked, hands and hair covered in foam, and dripping rapidly chilling water everywhere, all Steve could do was gulp and stare.

“Like what you see?” Bucky smirked at him, stretching his arms above his head so Steve had a clear view of the pearlescent strands and smears of come across his chest. His eyes went to Steve’s crotch, dilating even more than before. “Yeah, you do.”

Stiffly, Steve turned and fled.

Steve was in the middle of an intense workout when he became aware of Bucky’s presence near the elevator door. They were the only ones in the gym. Twenty-three days since Bucky had had any sort of violent episode, but the others were very careful about unexpected run-ins.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky swore, focus glued to the sweat running down Steve’s neck and back. He licked his lips. “Mind if I go jerk off?”

Heat bloomed under Steve’s skin. He was certain his face was bright pink. How long had Bucky been watching him? “You, ah, yeah, go ahead.” He bit back the impulse to tell Bucky he didn’t need to ask. Buck would only look disappointed and tell him he was beating a dead horse. This was their compromise. “Anything I can do for you?” He wasn’t exactly unaffected by the knowledge Bucky was going to touch himself.

Bucky smiled. “Nothing you weren’t doin’ before. “

It was hard to go back to his workout when he had to keep adjusting himself in reaction to the faint sound and scent of Bucky’s pleasure.

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