hydratrashmeme | Trash Party Dumpster #1

Trash Party Dumpster #1

(Will be continued in a Dumpster #2 post if by some unholy hell-miracle this post hits the 5000-comment limit.)

Filthy anon dumpster for sad hobos to fling moldy pizza crusts, raccoon eye makeup tips, and garbage about their sad trash kinks at each other.

AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. One hundred percent Hydra Party Favor Bucky Barnes, Is It Sexy Violence Or Violent Sex?, and Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves: Winter Soldier Edition. BLANKET NON-CON/DUB-CON WARNING, not safe for work, not safe for life, not safe for anyone, read at your own risk ~~of becoming one of us~~.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, etc. are off-topic.

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GO TO TOWN, TRASHBABIES.

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Round 1 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 2.

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The thing Bucky missed out on while he was locked away for seventy years being thawed, wiped, used as a mindless killing machine, and refrozen is that the future is awesome. Steve seems to have taken it all in stride, but Steve is intent on not looking like a fuddy-duddy in front of all his 21st-century pals, and besides, Steve wasn't the one dragging his best friend to Stark Expo in 1943 to see the flying cars. Bucky still hasn't seen any flying cars, but Americans have walked on the moon, the whole of womankind seems to have taken a leaf out of Peggy Carter's book, all the summer popcorn flicks are in 3D, and he's got every electronic gadget imaginable packed into a telephone that will fit into his pocket. Screw taking it all in stride, this is amazing.

Yeah, he remembers Stark Expo. That was one of the first things to come back to him once he wasn't having his head fucked with on a regular basis. The memories from before he was experimented on are the brightest; people nowadays only remember the past in black-and-white, but for Bucky it's the '30s and '40s that stand out in vivid color, and the rest of it that's kind of washed-out and jumbled-up. After one terrifying conversation with the Black Widow, he isn't even sure whether half of those recollections are real or implanted, and it doesn't help that they tend to turn up out of context in nightmares and flashbacks rather than plain old memories. He'd almost killed Steve the first time it happened--Jesus, he isn't sure how Steve puts up with him and the razorblade salad that is his head. Bucky would've kicked himself out long ago.

Right now, though, the future is grand. The stack of movies Sam left them isn't going to watch itself, so Bucky's sitting on the couch with Steve's arm draped over his shoulders, shoveling Ethiopian takeout into his mouth and checking his mail on his phone (on his phone) while he fails to pay a lick of attention to The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.

When he feels Steve's hand tighten on his shoulder, his first thought is Oh, so we're gonna do this now, are we? They'd come close the other night--the Black Widow had walked in on them laughing like idiots as Bucky tried for the thousandth time to teach Steve to dance, because what do you know, seventy years later and Steve still has no idea how to pick up women, and Natasha, well, she'd smiled her Sphinx's smile and told them to watch a couple of Doctor Who episodes set in the London Blitz. Which had led into one hell of a conversation about modern views on... dancing. Afterwards, Bucky'd half-jokingly asked if Steve still wanted those lessons from him, and they'd known, both of them had known how it would end if Steve said yes. But he didn't. Just looked at Bucky like there was something he wanted to tell him but didn't dare, and hightailed it off to bed before Bucky could say Look, dumbass, I know what you're trying to say, I've known since 1936.

Now, Steve is clutching his shoulder and keeps glancing over at him with that same wary, expectant, undecided look, and Bucky swallows his mouthful of awazie tibs in a hurry because he's pretty sure he's about to get kissed to within an inch of his life. Then he glances at the screen and suddenly he's glad he doesn't have anything in his mouth to spit out.

"Jesus, Steve, learn to pick your moment. That's awful."

"My... what?"

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Okay, yeah, sure, I forgot. You don't need to learn how to dance and you weren't about to ask me. Carry on."

"This isn't about dancing." Steve's ears go pink, and he lets go of his death grip on Bucky's shoulder only to fold his hands in his lap and start twisting the takeout receipt into ribbons.

"Well, buddy, you got one thing right. That's just about the opposite of dancing," says Bucky with a nod at the screen. "You want to talk ruining the mood? I feel like I'm gonna lose my lunch, and I've seen some pretty gruesome stuff in my time."

Steve gives Bucky a long look and a funny, sad smile, then he just nods and starts staring fixedly at the screen, not looking at Bucky at all. Classic awkward Steve. Can't talk about it, so caught up in overthinking it that he doesn't even notice some poor girl is going through hell on the TV while he makes his move, then gets so embarrassed he clams up even harder. They're never going to get there at this rate.

They sit through the next bit of the movie in silence. Steve sure isn't talking; Bucky's done with his email, and he's kind of lost his appetite. As any reasonable person would. Besides, something's starting to shake loose in his memory, and that's almost never pleasant.

It's during the second scene, the one where Lisbeth Salander starts dishing out a punishment to fit the crime, that the flashback hits.

Shiiiit, I need to know what happens next! *Bites nails.*

Bucky makes it to the kitchen trash can before he starts throwing up, but barely. Every time he thinks he's got the retching under control, it crashes back down on him: the battered body sprawled on the floor, the blood, the smell. Tiny inconsequential details, like shoving his masked face into the back of a bruised, sweat-soaked neck as he panted in animal pleasure (Bucky dry-heaves into the trash bag) and watching all the fine little hairs at the nape stand up with each breath. Blond hairs. His breath and his heartbeat echoing loud in his ears. The man on the floor hadn't made a sound the whole time.

"Bucky?"

Bucky glances up to see Steve standing in the kitchen doorway, and that sets off another round of dry-heaving. "Tell me my mind's playing tricks on me," he rasps when he can string words together. "Tell me it's an implanted memory, at least tell me I've mixed up the faces and it wasn't you. C'mon, Steve." He regrets saying Steve's name the instant it leaves his mouth. It feels like he's dirtied it.

"What memory?" says Steve, only it doesn't sound like a question. His face is pale and very, very still, and his mouth is a grim line. Bucky can't tell whether he's remembering right or whether Steve has just put two and two together about what set this off. About what Bucky is.

"Abandoned warehouse," Bucky chokes out. "Pallets everywhere, you kicked one up hard enough to tear open my forehead and the blood kept getting in my eyes. Blue uniform, silver star, heavy-duty handcuffs. And I--"

"It wasn't your fault."

Which is all the answer Bucky needs.

"You let me sleep on your couch. You let me sleep in your bed." He sinks to his knees on the cold tile now that there's nothing left in his stomach to bring up. "Every single fucking time I had nightmares, even when I could've killed you, even when you didn't know if I was going to..." He can't say it.

Steve kneels down beside him, and no, that's wrong, he never wants to see Steve on his knees ever again. "Hey," Steve says softly, "You wouldn't have. You weren't yourself when you did it, and even then you were questioning your orders. Remember that part?"

He doesn't. It's just horrible flashes. But it doesn't matter. "I still did it."

"Bucky. Remember what we agreed on, the first time you apologized for trying to kill me?" Steve lays a hand on his shoulder, and how the hell can Steve bear to touch him? It's too much. Bucky has to get out of here. He stumbles to his feet and makes a break for the front door.

Steve's quicker. He gets between Bucky and the door and bars the way. "Get on the couch," he says, looking pained, and there's a note of exasperation in his voice. It should be more than exasperation. He should be furious. "Just--get on the couch and we'll talk. Don't do anything stupid."

Bucky's itching to shove past Steve and get out, but the last thing he wants to do right now is hurt Steve any more. Oh God. Oh God, oh God--

He gets on the couch. The movie's paused, still in the middle of the sickeningly graphic revenge scene. If Steve wanted to do that to him, it would be nothing more than what he deserves. Steve should be hitting him, shouting at him, kicking him out. Not trying to comfort him. Steve is trying to comfort him. What the hell has the world come to?

Steve hastens to turn the TV off. He sits down next to Bucky, not touching but close enough to be uncomfortable, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Listen," he says, "what happened happened. I had some nightmares, beat the stuffing out of some punching bags, and moved on. Once I found out the Winter Soldier was you, do you think you were the one I was mad at? For any of it? Any anger I had left, it was for the people who made you do it. That was the most horrific part. They made you--"

"Were you going to tell me?" Bucky asks. He feels hollow now, and shaky. His throat's raw. "Or were you just going to let me... I thought you were going to kiss me. You were sitting there, watching that, shook up all to hell and looking at me like you'd seen a ghost, and I thought..."

"Yeah," says Steve with an awful grimace of a smile, "that was part of the problem. Because..." He takes a deep breath, surges forward, and plants a kiss on Bucky's lips.

It's uncoordinated; their noses bump and their teeth clack together. It's enough to make fireworks go off behind Bucky's eyes. It's also a strong contender for the dumbest thing Bucky's ever seen Steve do in a long, long lifetime of witnessing Steve do dumb things.

He shudders and kind of wants to cry. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. "That's not going to fix anything," he growls.

"No," Steve says, flushing, "it's not supposed to. But it's not something that's going away, even when everything's gone to hell."

Bucky stares at Steve, willing himself not to see Steve with his face broken and bloody, spitting in the Winter Soldier's face in defiance as he was violated. Trying not to remember what his body felt like, because if they're doing this--with dancing and movie nights and clumsy kisses--then just knowing that is like violating him all over again. "You know, Steve, you're really something," he says, not even trying to keep the wonder out of his voice. "This whole damn time--every time I touched you, you remembered that, and you still wanted..."

Steve snorts. "Yeah." He doesn't sound very proud of it. Bucky doesn't dare kiss him, not yet, but he lets Steve gather him into a hug and even hugs back a little. "We'll get through this," Steve whispers.

Bucky buries his face in the side of Steve's neck. He can see the fine little hairs at his nape standing up. Damn it all, he's never not going to remember, is he?

He stands up. "Okay. I really need a shower now."

Steve's lips quirk in a smile. "Want me to help you wash off?"

"Depends. Give me something I can do in return. Something--just one thing--that'll make this easier for you."

"Me? I'm fine," Steve says, and ducks his head, avoiding Bucky's eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, you lying bastard," Bucky says, and flashes Steve a shaky grin. "Maybe later."

*Incoherent noises and flailing.* Wow. Wow wow wow.

Love this!

Woah, right in the guts. Well done!

It's also a strong contender for the dumbest thing Bucky's ever seen Steve do in a long, long lifetime of witnessing Steve do dumb things.
this line made me smile and then i immediately felt bad for smiling while reading this fic because the rest of it is just heartwrenching. i can't compliment your writing enough authornon. i was uncomfortable and intrigued at the same time and i like how you write steve and bucky very much. keep up the good work!

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Trash Party Dumpster #1

Re: Steve/Winter Soldier (/Bucky?), past non-con

Re: Steve/Winter Soldier (/Bucky?), past non-con

Re: Steve/Winter Soldier (/Bucky?), past non-con

Re: Steve/Winter Soldier (/Bucky?), past non-con

Re: Steve/Winter Soldier (/Bucky?), past non-con

Re: Steve/Winter Soldier (/Bucky?), past non-con

Re: Steve/Winter Soldier (/Bucky?), past non-con