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.

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Fill: The Quiet Game (11.2/?)

[devildears]

They were currently repairing a part of the goat fence, replacing the withered wooden branches with newer cuts and coating them with that weird smelling substance that gave it a proper protective layer against the elements.

On a good day, Bucky was weirdly proud of his work. Despite them being city boys through and through, raised on rented apartments the size of a shoebox, he had learned how to take care of the property in a relatively short time. Bucky treated the land like he owned it, giving his possessions the love and attention they deserved.

He was constantly trying to teach Steve the same. Sometimes, it felt like working with a young apprentice that brought all of his strength to the job but none of his brains and fine motor skills. Steve was not a natural farmer. His finest qualities lay in a different area.

“Yeah. Sorry... Must have zoned out for a bit.”

Lucky for him, painting the fence was a simple task. Bucky had figured it out with a little help from the locals early on. Easy to go through the motions, even when his head wasn’t fully in the game.

Steve frowned at him but when Bucky didn’t offer anything else, he let it slide without comment.

“Alright. I was just saying... If they’re here, then I don’t have to worry about Hydra so much anymore,” he stated, wiping the sweat from his brow.

It seemed as if Steve would never get used to the heat either. His white tank top was already soaked in sweat and had a few smudges of paint on the front. They’d barely been out here for half an hour.

“Who?” Bucky said, just to be difficult.

With the way he constantly stopped to look around and sniff the air discreetly, it wasn’t hard for Steve to guess what was on his mind.

“Come on. The guards are here to keep you safe. You know that, right?”

Bucky sighed, slightly unnerved. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about me. This whole thing’s just a waste of time. As long as I’ve got you in my corner... That’s all I’ll ever need.”

Steve shot him a guilty look and resumed to tie down the new branches with his hands. His mouth twitched nervously.

“I know, it’s just... What if I wasn’t here all the time?”

Bucky closed his eyes and swallowed the anxious lump in his throat. Taking his time to form a proper reply, he took the shears out of Steve’s hand and cut back the protruding wood. Then he meticulously coated his part of the fence in broad brush strokes like it was a meditation exercise.

Steve was squirming in the corner of his eye.

“Why?” Bucky asked eventually, giving Steve a critical once over. “Not all the time? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve, the traitor, lowered his eyes to the ground, wringing his hands in his lap instead of facing his partner directly. “I’m not sure— It’s just...”

Bucky blew out an exasperated breath and threw the paintbrush back into the can, losing his patience. Some of the brown liquid got sprayed on his work pants.

“Why?!” he repeated more sharply and turned to face his partner with a stormy expression. “Out with it! You got somewhere else to be?!”

“It’s not... I wasn’t talking like a mission or anything...” Steve murmured in the general direction of his feet.

Bucky tightly closed his eyes once more, bracing himself against the inevitable sting of disappointment. He picked the paintbrush back up again and continued to coat the same part he’d been working on earlier aggressively.

“Sure. Whatever, man.”

“Bucky—”

“No! Leave it!”

He wondered what had to happen for Steve to just... Stay with him. Should he lose another arm, a leg maybe? Was there anything that could convince this idiot boyfriend of his to stay home and just be with him for once?

“Please, Buck, I—”

“Screw you! I don’t wanna hear it! If you wanna get out of here so badly, just do it already! Jesus!” Bucky cut him off with unmasked resentment. “I’m not a child, Steve! I don’t need you to babysit me, alright? I’ve been doing fine on my own for years! Years! How could I expect anything else...”

“Bucky—”

“What difference does it make to you if Hydra screws me one more time?!”

“What difference? It makes all the—”

Hot anger flashed in Bucky’s eyes and he turned around to say something equally hurtful but before he got the chance, whatever Steve saw in his expression made him stop dead in his tracks, and he raised his hands in surrender.

When Steve continued to speak, his voice sounded much gentler than before. “Sorry, I— I know,” he said appeasingly, “I know... I’m not saying it would change how I feel about you or anything. You know that I don’t think that. And I know you can manage without me just fine but—”

“But what? Huh? What? You’ve barely been here for three weeks! Three weeks, Steve! Is that all I get? After what happened to me? Really?” Bucky despised how whiny he sounded but he couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t need you for muscle, but a little emotional support sure would have been nice!”

Steve looked like he’d been kicked. “I know it wasn’t right, leaving you here like this when it happened”, he said full of misery, “but I never thought— Bucky... Please, you have to believe me!”

“I don’t have to believe shit,” Bucky retorted icily. 

“Ok... You’re right. I deserve that. You got every right not to trust me. Hell, I blame myself for what happened half the time, but I—”

“Whatever,” Bucky said again, as viciously as he could. “That’s so not the point!”

He turned around and roughly gathered the supplies in order to throw them back into their wooden storage box. The fence was still only halfway done but it could rot for all he cared.

Steve observed him wordlessly until Bucky had closed the lid and sat down on the ground beside the tool box, breathing hard and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers - which was definitely more dignified than angry crying.

“Goddamn it...”

Steve stood there with him in silence for what felt like an eternity, watching Bucky stew in his own misery. Then he finally crouched down in front of him and spoke up softly.

“Hey... I’m sorry, Buck. I... I swear I wouldn’t leave you for a mission. Not like this. I promise you.”

Bucky snorted humorlessly and blinked away some tears which had gathered behind his closed eyelids, daring Steve to say anything about it.

“Oh really? Where are you going then?”

Steve carefully pulled Bucky’s hand away from his face and closed his own hand around it gently, like he was handling a bomb that was ready to go off at any minute. He did it like he wasn’t sure he was still allowed to touch, looking sorrier than he had any right to. It cooled Bucky’s temper some but not all the way.

Steve rubbed over the back of his hand with his thumb, like he was trying to soothe a pain.

“It’s Nat. She called me half a dozen times this week. I didn’t know what to say, so I just... Ignored her.”

“Right. So why stop now?”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t keep brushing her aside. She probably knows something’s up by now. See? Now she wants to meet.”

He pulled his phone out of his back-pocket and held it in front of Bucky’s face for him to read.

Steve kept it steady while Bucky used his remaining hand to shield his eyes from the sun so he could decipher the messages: 

widow: omg just found out what sam was hiding in his man purse!! 😂 call me when you get this

widow: you were right by the way. wasn’t work related.

missed call 9:35 p.m.

widow: i’ll keep dropping juicy spoilers on your answering machine :P

widow: it’s called a mailbox but you knew that didn’t you? ha! look at you not rising to the bait. 

widow: call me

missed call 11:08 a.m.

widow: how is it going in wakanda?

widow: are you still having sex? ;)

widow: just kidding. like you know how

missed call 5:13 p.m. 

widow: seriously? no one can keep it up this long  

widow: rogers?????????

missed call 5:17 p.m.

widow: 🙃 hello????

missed call 8:40 a.m.

widow: R U 💀????

widow: seriously. please call me back. this is important

widow: cap? respond in 15. visual(!) proof of life required

missed call 6:24 p.m. 

widow: I GUESS THEY DONT CALL ME WIDOW FOR NOTHING :(

widow: ok whatever

widow: t’challa says you’re alive so... 

missed call: 10:52 a.m.

widow: steve i promise i won’t disturb your holiday again but i’m getting worried.

widow: srsly. we gotta meet.

widow: pls? 

Bucky sighed again, defeated. Natasha was a force of nature with a seventh sense for personal drama that bordered on the supernatural. That she considered them her closest friends (Bucky mostly by association with Steve, but still) was either a curse or a blessing - jury still out on that one. Their business was her business, and when it wasn’t already, she would make it so. The Black Widow in her wouldn’t stop investigating until she knew exactly what was going on. Bucky wasn’t comfortable with her knowing about the rape but if Steve wouldn’t meet her, he figured they had a few days (a week tops) until she flew into the country herself to throttle them with tough love and good intentions. Bucky definitely wasn’t ready for that.

He looked away from the screen and up at Steve’s worried face again.

“Well, why didn’t you just lead with that? We don’t have much of a choice there, do we? I mean, it’s Nat… The hunt is all she knows. She’s not gonna let it rest.” 

Steve gnawed on his lip and frowned at Bucky, clearly torn.

“No, she won’t, but could try and keep it short anyway.”

He gave Bucky’s hand a good squeeze. “Are you sure you’ll be ok without me for a few days? Unless you want to come see her with me—” And when Bucky only huffed... “Again, I know you can be on your own here, but I’m still not going if you don’t want me to - or if you have a bad feeling. I’m never going to make that mistake again.”

Bucky gave him a sad half-smile which probably wasn’t very convincing.

“Sure... But if you’re still here by morning I’m asking T’challa to deport you myself.”

Steve laughed nervously.

“Oh yeah? On what grounds?”

“Stupidity... Your face... I’ll figure something out.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“Little hard on the eyes.”

“Sure is.”

Steve pushed to his feet, then he leaned forward, searching Bucky’s eyes intently. “We good?” he asked, graze traveling down to his partner’s lips.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “I guess. But you’re a dick. Just for the record.”

Steve nodded his assent.

“Alright. 90% dick. 10 % ugly. I can live with that.”

“Course you can. That ratio is the only reason I put up with you.”

Steve chuckled and puckered his lips. “Fair enough. If you’re quite done praising my dick then... Would it be too bad if you kissed this horrible old face goodbye? I don’t wanna overextend my luck.”

Bucky grabbed his chin not too kindly and pulled him closer.

“I could be convinced. If you make it worth my while when you get back.”

“Oh yeah? When you’re ready to try again... Consensual hate-sex never hurt nobody. Maybe I’ll let you take a turn this time.”

Steve grinned cockily and winked at him before he leaned in for a kiss that tasted full of promises.

Just for a moment, Bucky let himself enjoy it, roughly deepening the kiss with teeth and tongue. Then he pulled back and glanced at the slightly dented outline of Steve’s work trousers, before he looked his partner in the eye and smirked.

“Great. Better hurry then. I think those 90% of you would really like to join the fun.” 

Re: Fill: The Quiet Game (11.2/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Well, fuck. Why can’t Steve text her back instead? I have a bad feeling.