Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

[trashmod]

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)]

Comments

Re: Tainted Touch 9b/?

[(Anonymous)]

Just minutes later, Natasha was sitting in her chair in the quinjet, listening to the pleasant hum of the engine. She had reached the level of fatigue where she was feeling comfortably numb. She was slouching in a rather unladylike way, and she did not care. She had been hurt – though her entire body felt distant now - present but not acutely gnawing at her flesh or bones.

She was watching Bucky from the corner of her eye as she was talking to Barton about nothing much in particular. He was making small talk as he bandaged her leg and dabbed the bruise her forehead. He gave her updates on his family, on occasion. She liked that, that he kept her informed even on the minor things. Made her feel like a real auntie, like part of a family she never had.

She could spot Bucky’s nervousness, though, and Clint story’s about Nathaniel’s teething issues couldn’t quite distract her from that.

Steve approached Bucky, and Natasha couldn’t quite make out what was being said – she only saw Steve reach out for Bucky’s wounded leg, an Bucky shake his head and mumble something. She wondered if she should get up and save the day, but in the end, he needed to learn to do this on his own. Minutes later, Steve moved back to his seat, and it seemed no disasters had happened without her intervention.

***

“So, it’s totally not suspicious you didn’t want a medic,” Natasha quipped, maybe an hour later, when she walked into the medical wing of the Avengers tower uninvited.
Bucky was reclined on a cot, wearing only a t-shirt and shorts, his armor and bloodied trousers cast aside. He was trying to squirt some disinfectant on cotton wool. The movement seemed difficult with the metal fingers. Maybe the action was just a little too delicate for the purpose they were created for. Or maybe he was just upset.

He’d gotten rid of the others by saying he’d rather patch himself up, but Natasha was done with this little act – tired and done – and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t ignoring major injuries because of shame.

Steve and Sam had had gone out for food, and the rest were either napping our lounging, recovering from the fight. They had as much privacy as they could hope for.

Bucky shrugged at her, unsurprised by her presence. “Last time I had a physical, I had a hard-on. Fun times. I’m sure I can blame dislike of doctors on trauma. A boner might be harder to explain.”

Natasha sighed, too tired and annoyed to argue the issue.
“Here, let’s get you fixed up,” she said as she appropriated the first aid kit and took out some bandage. She then poured the disinfectant on a sterile pad, and looked at the damage. It was mostly just bad chafing, really. Some of the skin had broken as he’d been dragged, but it was only superficial damage. Nothing supersoldier healing couldn’t take care of. Still, she carefully dabbed the wound. He didn’t even flinch.

“I meant what I said,” Barnes said, staring right at her. You should still do the other punishment.

She rolled out the clean bandage, and started wrapping it around his upper leg. “Your first mission went well. I’m not entirely sure it’s even necessary.”

“Natasha,” he said. “I looked at you through a sniper rifle and thought about how easy it would be to kill you.”

That got her attention. She stopped wrapping his leg, but did not remove her hands, not moving. She looked at him with piercing eyes, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his. When she was sure there was no escalation following, she quickly secured the bandage and moved a few inches away.

“Just for a second,” he added, “but that’s a second too long. I never did with a handler, no matter how much I hated them. I was well trained”.

She was starting to get annoyed with that. “Barnes, I’m not your….”

Bucky moved, quickly as he was prone to. Natasha backed away, expecting an attack. Instead, he slumped and kneeled in front of her. He looked up at her candidly, meeting her eyes. “You are not my handler, I know, Mistress. But you can help me. Please help me.”

Then he cast down his eyes, bowed his head, and held his hands in front of him in supplication.

“Christ, Barnes, not here,” she hissed under her breath. I haven’t checked this place for bugs or camera’s, she wanted to add, but realized saying it our loud would make it worse.

“Fine,” he hissed as he got back to his feet. “ But I don’t want to feel that way about you, not just for…this thing we do, but as a person”.

“But you’re saying you do feel that way, and you should be allowed to. If you’re saying that p… something could change that, then it’s not real.

He looked defeated. Tired. All he could manage was another shrug. “What is even real, Natasha? For people like us?”

She didn’t reply, her breath feeling heavy.

“Do you need help fixing up?” he asked, changing the subject as he neatly sorted thing back into the first aid pack.

“I’ll manage,” she said.

Bucky nodded, with a crooked smile. “Of course you will, Natasha. Just like I will.”

He walked out, his eyes meeting hers once more.

The hallway smelled of shawarma – but despite being hungry, she didn’t think she could swallow a single bite.