ready to comply

[semi_stable]

[cw: descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of PTSD]


Things have been going very well for Bucky as of late, so it's no real surprise when he's suddenly knocked on his ass again. That's how it goes, after all. That's his story. That's how it always goes.

This time, all he's doing is walking down the street. He's smiling, almost even laughing, sipping at an iced coffee. He's talking with a friend, gesturing with his prosthetic hand, ungloved and visible to anyone who looks at him, and anyone who did wouldn't even be able to tell how broken he is.

Because he is broken. He always will be in some way or another. His brain was taken apart and put back together over and over again, scrambled and reformed, and he'll never be healed from that, not completely. Not to mention all the trauma and abuse, decades of it, and he can have a few good months but he'll never be totally free.

This is proven to him as he's walking past some sort of street fair out in front of his building. It's noisy, with people milling about and several different radios tuned to different stations drowning each other out. They suddenly all go quiet, music and talking replaced with an eerie, quiet static.

Longing.

The word makes Bucky go still, face draining of color. It's a low, commanding male voice speaking in Russian, and Bucky feels a little like he might throw up.

Rusted.

It's coming from every radio, even one from a car passing by, windows rolled down to take advantage of the nice day. It's coming from everywhere and Bucky's coffee falls from his hand, plastic cracking as it breaks against the pavement. "No."

Furnace.

"No, no, no, please," Bucky pleads in Russian, reaching up to put his hands over his ears. It's so unexpected to hear his trigger words that he forgets for a moment that he's supposed to have been cured of them, rewired during his time in Wakanda. But then he remembers, and it doesn't help. Whoever is behind this place has proven how powerful they are, and who's to say that they didn't undo that, too?

Daybreak.

It's getting louder now, more forceful, and Bucky lets out a panicked shout as he stumbles backwards, breathing heavily and shaking his head. He's flooded so suddenly with adrenaline, like ice water being dumped over his head, and he can hear his heart beating. Air gets stuck in his chest and he can't breathe, and while he recognizes the signs of a panic attack, he can't seem to make it stop. He's too terrified of what might be about to happen to do anything but panic.

Seventeen.

"No, no, not again," he chokes out, turning to run into the lobby of his building to try and get away from it, only to find that they're playing in there too, pumping tinnily out of a speaker in the corner. He chokes out a sob and sinks to the floor, pushing himself back into a corner and covering his ears. Someone follows after him and Bucky holds out his hand. "Stop! Stay back."

Benign.

There are four more. Only four more words until Bucky finds out of the switch in his brain will be flipped, if he'll climb to his feet and stand at attention. Four more words until this city finds out if the Winter Soldier is ready to comply.





[Help him. Have your pup be the person he was walking with and/or the one who finds him in the lobby. Despite his fears, the trigger words will not do anything because he's still cured, but he's still going through one hell of a PTSD episode.]

Comments

[semi_stable]

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he says with a fond chuckle, because it’s deeply funny to him that they’ve made it this far without her knowing his given name. His expression softens at her question and he kisses her cheek, resting his forehead against her temple. “And he has his reasons.”

He isn’t even sure if he could explain them. He’s just felt drawn to her, in some way or another, since they met. It’s similar to how he felt with Loki but without the combative history that he felt the need to try and rebel against.

Bucky just wants to be around her, wants her to be safe, wants to exist in her orbit. He wants so badly for her too be happy. Maybe it’s because they’re broken in similar ways, and their jagged edges fit together.

He watches as Sylvie writes in his journal, her stark letters next to his smaller and tidier print, and he has to swallow back against a lump in his throat. He takes the pen back from her and places the tip at the end of her sentence, squeezing her arm as he writes. But we got through it together.

[the_variant]

He doesn't say love is maybe too strong a word or anything of the sort, simply tells her he has his reasons, kisses her, collects her against his side. It's so unlike the way she and Loki had said it, terrified words thrown at one another in the midst of violence, cultists with knives and clubs and spears coming from all directions.

Sylvie was less frightened with all the weapons around than she is now.

"Oh, did we?" she asks, working to keep her voice light as she reads what he's written. Just because he didn't tell her she's wrong doesn't mean she's right. Her hand covers his knee and she nods, almost as if to herself. "I suppose maybe we did."

[semi_stable]

Bucky watches as she stares at the page, still so tense that she's practically trembling. Her hand squeezes at his knee and he bites his lip, lifting his hand from her arm to rest it against the side of her head, fingers sliding through her soft hair and brushing it back.

"I do love you," he says against her temple, voice quiet and soft. It feels momentous, like something huge but something simple all at once. He thinks that he's loved both of them for a while now, and he was too scared to acknowledge it even to himself. While he knew they cared about him, Bucky was sure that he'd linger just on the outside of their romance. Not because of anything they did, but because that's who he is, always a part of someone else's story.

"You don't have to say anything," he assures her, kissing the apple of her cheek before loosening his grip on her. Perhaps letting her off the hook helps him too, because he won't have to wait and see if she says it back. "I just wanted you to know."

[the_variant]

It hurts to hear. Something inside her cracks open a little further, the armour coming apart where Loki broke it first, and for several long moments, Sylvie can only breathe, each inhale and exhale sharp and quick, like a frightened animal.

If she ran like one, she doubts Bucky would even be that surprised, but she doesn't want to hurt him. And she doesn't want to run.

As he pulls away, she reaches out and grabs at him, fingers curling in the front of his shirt to bring him back. Bring him in close again. She still hasn't looked at him, afraid of what he'll see when she does, but finally she lifts her gaze from their knees, from the book, and meets his with wide eyes.

"I do," she answers. "I know and I... do love you. It terrifies me. Bucky, everyone I loved was erased." And she still carries that fear with her every single day, afraid the TVA will come and take him, take Loki.

[semi_stable]

Sylvie reacts to the words as if they've wounded her, and maybe they have in a way. Maybe he shouldn't have put that on her, maybe it's too heavy, too much coming from him--

When he tries to pull away, she immediately tugs him back in and looks up at him, eyes wet and dark, and Bucky lets out a breath like he's been punched in the stomach when she finally speaks. It is a lot to hear, and it is terrifying, but he's also so fucking glad.

"I know. I know it's scary," Bucky assures her, reaching up to cradle her face in his metal hand, thumbing at the corner of her eye and biting his lip. He doesn't know what to say to make it better, and there's nothing he can do to fix it. "I can't imagine how awful that was, but I know a little how you feel. Everyone I loved is gone, too." His voice goes thick and he has to swallow hard, brow furrowing a bit. "They weren't erased, but I was. They grew old and died and I wasn't there to see any of it. And then the very last person left-- he chose to leave me behind, and that hurt so much worse."

Bucky's eyes well up and he quickly swipes at them with his hand, breathing shakily and letting the journal fall to the floor so he can gently cradle her face in both of his big hands. "I get it, Sylvie. I know why you want to protect yourself because I feel that too, but I just-- I don't know. You're worth it to me."

[the_variant]

Their similarities have been obvious to Sylvie from the day they met, she had felt that draw, a kindred spirit in many ways, but as a result, it also means they've suffered in many of the same ways. For a long time, Sylvie didn't care who she hurt, who suffered in her attempt to take down the TVA, but she had tried, truly tried, to avoid hurting anyone innocent in the matter.

In the end, she'd wanted to free the Hunters. Show them the lie they had been told. Then raze the TVA into the ground. But there is a cost to the things she'd done, a cost to what Bucky done. He hadn't made that choice, however. She had. Sylvie only has herself to blame and so she tries, she's trying, to make it better from here on.

"I don't need to protect myself," she says with a rough laugh, lifting her hands to cover Bucky's on either side of her face. "I need to protect Loki. I need to protect you."

If she gets hurt again, she'll get hurt. Sylvie knows she can survive anything at this point, like a bloody cockroach, but that won't stop the TVA from trying to kill the people she cares about. She's worried about them, not herself.

"But you might be worth taking the risk for," she says, a small smile curving the corner of her mouth as she lifts her gaze to meet his.

[semi_stable]

"Are we so helpless?" He asks, trying to make her smile, but the words obviously strike a chord with him. The lines at the corners of his eyes deepen as he swipes the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She's worried that the TVA will come for them, Bucky's worried that that switch in his brain hasn't been destroyed completely and he'll try to hurt him, and Loki, he imagines, is worried about reverting to his old ways.

"We don't know if it'll happen, but if they do come for you, I'll be there fighting with you either way," Bucky tells her, because Sylvie is his friend and he loves her. Even if she tells them that she doesn't want to do this, he'd still be there, because he'd love her still.

"And I'm sure that he'd be right there with me." Bucky slides his cool metal hand around to the back of her neck, remembering how she'd reacted when he did it in the heat. He squeezes reassuringly and leans in a little closer, meeting her eye and smiling teasingly. "So, you might as well give into my awkward charms."

[the_variant]

"Yes, the both of you are idiots," she answers, voice curt only because she knows Bucky won't take offense. And the two of them being idiots doesn't preclude her from being an idiot as well.

It helps a little, knowing Bucky and Loki are both powerful and can take care of themselves. It helps, too, that they're all aware of the threat. Her Asgard had never had a chance, had never known what was coming, none of her people had woken up that morning knowing it would be their last and they would, in a few short hours, be erased from history.

"You are very awkward," she agrees. "But I think I gave into that charm quite some time ago." When she leans in to kiss him, it's slow, a little hesitant, not how she might usually kiss him, when she's hungry for him and she knows exactly where it's going to end up.

[semi_stable]

"I'll have you know that I wasn't always awkward," he says with a laugh. "But it's good to know that I'm still charming."

Sylvie moves to kiss him and Bucky leans in to meet her, humming a little as their mouths meet. It's a soft kiss, one unlike the others they've shared, and Bucky takes his time, pulling away until to adjust the angle and kiss her again. He reaches up with his good hand to cup the side of her face, thumb stroking in front of her ear.

"Will you stay here with me tonight?" Bucky asks quietly, and as if on cue, Bopp wedges her way between Sylvie and the back of the sofa to put her fuzzy head in Sylvie's lap, puppy eyes in full effect. Bucky laughs and then gives her puppy eyes of his own, mouth playfully turned down into a hopeful pout.

[the_variant]

A part of her is still reluctant to spend a night anywhere but her own predictably safe space, an inclination she knows Bucky will understand. But it won't be the first time she's spent the night, so perhaps this, too, can be a safe space, a place that's predictable, one she knows.

She nods, then rolls her eyes at the eyes he gives her. With a snort, she lifts her hand, plants her palm over his face and gives him a push.

"Does that look ever really work?" she asks, as if it hadn't just worked on her. Instead, she rubs Bopp's ears, pretending the dog is the only reason she's said yes.

[semi_stable]

If Sylvie were to decline his invitation, he wouldn't hold it against her, and he would try not to take it personally. He understands more than most what her reservations would be and he tries not to get his hopes up, but he's still relieved when she nods.

Her hands covers his face just in time to hide his smile, though he's sure that she can feel it against her palm. Sylvie's hand falls away and Bucky scrunches his nose dramatically, as if wriggling it back into place. Graciously, he doesn't point out that it worked just now. He'll give the credit to Bopp, anyway.

"Thank you," he tells her instead, leaning over Bopp to give Sylvie another kiss, hand going to the back of her neck as he rests their foreheads together for a moment. It's quiet and a little peaceful, at least until Bopp lifts her head and shoves her nose between their mouths.

[the_variant]

Moments like these are unusual for Sylvie. They're difficult for her to navigate. She's had so few of them, most of them with Loki, a few with Bucky, and before that, likely nothing real since she'd been at home in Asgard. Tenderness is a weakness at the end of the world.

But she sits in her discomfort. She rests a hand on Bucky's thigh, their foreheads tipped together, and she sits with it, reminding herself she isn't fighting here. This isn't an apocalypse. This can be safe.

Although then there's a dog's tongue trying to sweep into her mouth and Sylvie sputters, pulling back.

[semi_stable]

Bucky laughs, both at Bopp and Sylvie's reaction to her, and it feels a little strange to laugh after what just happened, but also reassuring. He'll have bad moments, bad days, and probably always will, but he'll have this, too. He can handle the bad if this is the good that he gets with it.

"Don't be jealous," he says to Bopp, chuckling a little and scratching her behind the ears. She pants happily and chases after her stuffed bear once Bucky tosses it, seemingly ready to accept that Bucky doesn't need her help at the moment, because she takes it over to her bed and flops down.

He turns back to Sylvie, smiling and cupping her cheek, thumbing under her eye as he leans in to give her another kiss, tugging her forward until she's sitting sideways in his lap.

[the_variant]

"Are we going to fool around now?" she asks, pulling back from the kiss to flash a grin. Her fingers twist in the front of his shirt and she shifts back, pulling Bucky along with her.

"Because I think that sort of comfort is the kind I'm much better at."

Mostly she's teasing. She hopes she's actually helped some day, wanting Bucky to know, in her own way, she's here for him. She has rather enormous feelings for him, likely has for some time, but her heart is a complicated, confusing thing, even to her.

[semi_stable]

"Is that what people do after professing their love for each other?" Bucky asks and he's mostly teasing, but also to let her know that she isn't alone in the newness of it. He's loved people, a person, but it's never been reciprocated until these beautifully complicated people seemed to come trampling into his life.

She tugs him forward and Bucky smiles, letting her drag him away from the awful thing that just happened to him, and he's grateful for that. She won't let him stew in it and feel sorry for himself, and he can instead give his attention to her, to something better.

"I find kisses quite comforting," he says with fond smirk, shifting onto the sofa to cover her body with his own, nudging his nose against hers and then pressing a kiss to her mouth, keeping it soft at first.

[the_variant]

Her nose wrinkles at him, half-hearted at best, when he uses that word again. It's what they've done, even if it makes something inside of her feel as if it's wriggling, squirming, because she's uncomfortable with the vulnerability of it. She'd screamed the words at Loki, as awkward as she's ever been.

At least she hadn't shouted at Bucky.

"Loki and I beat some cultists bloody, then fooled around," she says, shifting so she can properly take Bucky's weight on her, enjoying how heavy he feels on top of her. "That's my only experience with it before now."

[semi_stable]

That makes him laugh, and maybe it's a little strange to hear the woman he loves, who loves him back, talk about loving someone else. But at the same time, it isn't. Bucky knows that it's possible to love two people at once, because he's found himself in the same position.

"That sounds about right," he says with an amused smirk, pressing his metal forearm in against the back of the couch to brace himself as his other hand slides up her thigh and over her hip, dipping under her shirt to slide along the curve of her waist and settle just under her breast.

"I'll need to make this more exciting then," he says in a low, flirtatious rumble of a voice, obviously teasing. He feels no rivalry with Loki, no sense of competition, because he knows that there is room for both of them, but it's okay to be playful, he thinks. "Should we do something very thrilling? Maybe we can go have sex on the roof. You look so good under moonlight."

[the_variant]

Somehow she doesn't expect that and Sylvie's eyes light up with a bit of mischief, Bucky having offered something that appeals to that part of her, the goddess of mischief she doesn't often allow to come out. She hooks one leg over his, locking him against her for a moment as she grins up at him.

"That roof better be comfortable," she tells him, squeezing with her leg. "I'm not getting some kind of road burn just to fuck you."

Despite saying as much, she's actually certain she would happily suffer any sort of burn in order to have sex with Bucky.

[semi_stable]

Bucky had mostly been teasing with the roof comment, but he sees the way that her eyes brighten, how pleased she looks, and he suddenly wants very much to make it happen. It's the sort of ridiculous, playful thing that he might have done in his youth, in the Before, and there is nothing keeping him from doing it now.

"I'll bring a blanket," he tells her with a grin, pressing a firm kiss to her mouth before easily scooping her up into his arms as he stands up from the sofa, holding her up easily with his metal arm as he goes to the hall and opens the linen closet. He tugs out the thick duvet that he can only really use in the dead of winter, and then smiles at her, feeling excited by the prospect. "This should protect your dainty pale princess skin."

He's teasing, of course, because she's far from dainty, but just because she probably could withstand her skin being scraped up with friction burns, she shouldn't have to, and Bucky would never expect her to. "Do you really want to?"

[the_variant]

"Don't tease me and then take it away," she answers, resisting the urge to squirm in his arms and have him set her down. It takes a great deal of trust, allowing Bucky to hold her like this, it makes her feel vulnerable and a little nervous, but she's only just told him she loves him.

If that hasn't already made her vulnerable, she can't imagine what else might.

"It'll be beautiful," she says. "Under the stars."

[semi_stable]

Bucky has to remind himself that just because he enjoys having her in his arms, she may not always enjoy being carried around, so he sets her down and presses a kiss to her temple, slinging the duvet over his arm. Upon checking his watch, he sees that he has a few hours before he has to walk Bopp again, so he checks her water and gives her a treat before heading to the refrigerator to retrieve an unopened bottle of champagne.

"Someone gave me a gift basket after I redid their deck and this was in it," Bucky admits with a bashful sort of laugh. He remembers being a little bewildered at the time, but he ate all the snacks and figured he'd save the wine for a special occasion. "This is as good a time as any, huh?"

He takes Sylvie's hand and leads her out of the apartment, smiling over at her as they get into the elevator and he pushes the button for the top floor. Given what happened, he could be moping, could be paralyzed with regret and feeling sorry for himself, but he isn't. He has someone to distract him, reasons to carry on, things to be excited about. He has a life to live, and he won't let being reminded of his past distract him from that.

[the_variant]

A lot of things can be inferred about a person from the way they treat vulnerable creatures. Animals and children in particular. Sylvie watches Bucky with Bopp, checking on her comfort for the time they're gone, her mouth not quite curved into a smile, but something fond all the same.

"You saved the wine, but ate all the food?" she asks, amused, as he leads her from the apartment and into the elevator. She's never been on the roof here, has no idea what it looks like, who else might be out there, if they'll even have privacy, but it's all a risk she's willing to take.

[semi_stable]

"Of course I ate all the food," Bucky replies with a scoff, as if offended that she even needed to ask the question. "We can have something delivered later."

At the end of the hallway is a small staircase to the door to the roof. There's a sign on the door saying that there is no roof access for residents but hey, he's broken far worse rules than that. At least it means that they'll have the place to themselves. Bucky has been up there a few times, and there isn't much to it aside from a barren concrete space in the corner of the roof, but at twelve stories high, it's a pretty good view.

"I can pick this pretty quick, but your way's probably quicker," Bucky admits with a smirk, gesturing to the locked door knob. He could also punch through it, but magic also means no property damage. "If you'd be so kind."

[the_variant]

"Using me for my magic now?" she asks, but she smiles as she wraps her hand around the doorknob. It doesn't take much effort for her to undo the mechanism, a faint wisp of green enveloping the knob as she works, then the door releases and Sylvie opens it to reveal the roof.

The roof itself isn't overly impressive, which she had expected. Most buildings in this city are the same, one or two with something set up for residents so they can enjoy the view, but more often than not, the doors are locked, like this one, for safety. It's the view she likes.

Stepping out into the light wind, Sylvie walks toward the edge, the glittering lights of the city as bright as the stars above.

[semi_stable]

"Just being practical," he says with a smirk, watching as she unlocks the knob with, at least as it looks to him, a simple nudge from her mind. When Bucky thinks about all she could potentially do, it's terrifying. It would be entirely reasonable for him to be wary of her and want to stay clear, given all he's been through, but instead there is nowhere else he'd rather be.

He follows her out onto the roof and shuts the door behind them, heading toward the edge with her. Bucky can see why they don't want people up here, given the short ledge, but it's no concern to either of them. After setting down the champagne, he flicks out the blanket and lays it down flat. It won't be the most comfortable thing in the world, but they've both dealt with far worse.

Bucky sits down in the middle of the blanket, legs stretched out in front of him and elbows locked as he props himself up on his hands. He looks up at Sylvie, lit silver by the moon, statuesque profile silhouetted by the night sky, and he lets out a sigh that can only really be described as dreamy. "Hell of a view."