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]

"Wish I could," Bucky says regretfully, reaching for Loki's hand and settling it against his chest, thumbing at the knob of his wrist bone before sliding his fingers slowly up his forearm. "Even if we got out of here, the Coney Island I loved is gone."

After his pardon, they'd set him up with a place in Brooklyn, probably assuming that he'd want to be the only place he ever called home. It was a nice sentiment, but coming back to Brooklyn after all that time was heartbreaking in ways that he hadn't really prepared himself for. It was first time in the city without Steve, without any of his family, and it all looked so different. It was a lot for his already shaky memories to deal with, especially when he went to the street corner where he grew up and found a Starbucks instead of his building.

"It's all been gentrified like the rest of Brooklyn," he sighs out, curling his fingers around Loki's elbow. "A lot changes when you're kept away from a place for eighty years."

[thewrongpath]

"That's assuming time is always linear, and I have plenty of evidence to the contrary," Loki pointed out, drawing small circles on Bucky's chest with the tips of his fingers.

"It seems people assume we'll end up right back where we started, but I'm not so sure of that."

Loki listened to Bucky continue on, complaining about how things had changed around him, like every other old man in the universe.

"You could probably be away from Asgard for a hundred years, and it would be exactly as you'd left it. Or perhaps not, as it's in ruins now. I hear they've relocated our people to Norway."

[semi_stable]

"I suppose that's true, even without the time stone," Bucky muses, humming as Loki's fingertips drag along his skin in a pattern that only seemed to make sense to him. His gaze lifts to Loki's face at the mention of Asgard's destruction, and Bucky's hand slides up to loosely grip his shoulder.

"New Asgard," Bucky tells him, nodding a little and sliding his hand to the side of Loki's neck. "I watched something about it on the news. What did they name it?"

His brow burrows and he tries to think through the pleasurable fog still clouding his brain. "Tønsberg. It seemed nice. I would live there."

[thewrongpath]

"It seems I was on my way there, when Thanos boarded our ship," Loki murmured thoughtfully, "Or, so say the files at the TVA. I can't imagine anyone on Earth would've been happy to see me."

But his brother, idiot that he was, would've had faith in their ability to forgive, even for the most undeserved of penitents.

[semi_stable]

"It's strange to think that we were killed by the same man," Bucky says plainly, brow furrowing as he looks at up Loki. Or maybe it isn't strange it all, considering half the people in the universe, or at least their universe, can say the same. "At least I got to come back."

The thought of Loki being dead sends a flash of panic through him and he curls his fingers around the back of Loki's neck, pulling him in closer.

"I guess it's a good thing that we're here instead," he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss under Loki's eye and letting out a ragged breath. "Because I kinda need you alive."

[thewrongpath]

"I suppose that wasn't me. It was the version of me on the sacred timeline, and I assure you, there's nothing sacred about me," Loki said, slipping an arm around Bucky's shoulders, quietly astonished that someone else could be so moved by the possibility of his death.

A god was meant to be served, to be worshiped, and boasting preemptively about the mourners at his funeral came with the territory, but deep down, Loki believed what Sif had told him, all those years ago, and what Mobius later confirmed.

He was destined to be forgotten. A stepping stone to greatness for other, better people.

[semi_stable]

"Fuck the sacred timeline," Bucky says emphatically. All he knows about the TVA is what he's heard from Loki and Sylvie, so obviously he's getting his info through a biased lens, but he still thinks it's bullshit. On the sacred timeline, two people he loves are dead. The sacred timeline left Steve in the ice for seventy years, left Bucky in a frozen cell in Siberia, let half of entire population be wiped away while the other half had to stay and mourn.

"The Avengers messed with time. Why didn't they get pruned?" He pulls his head back to look at Loki. "Steve went back to be with Peggy. They didn't go after him."

[thewrongpath]

"Oh, I brought that up at my hearing, believe me," Loki said, growing a bit incensed, "The Avengers doing all their meddling was, and I quote, supposed to happen."

At the mention of Rogers, Bucky's face took on that shuttered, wounded look, and Loki softened instantly.

"They were tasked with keeping chaos at bay. Unwittingly, by a man who caused the chaos in the first place. And if what they say is true, our free will has only ever been an illusion. I'm not sure I believe that. Sylvie and I didn't have a chance to find out what happened, after it was all torn down."

[semi_stable]

"That's convenient," Bucky replies, rubbing soothingly at the back of Loki's neck. What the Avengers did ended up saving Bucky and the rest of the vanished, let them defeat Thanos, but why allow five years of suffering? Why didn't the TVA go after him before he could cause all of that chaos? Thinking about it makes his head hurt.

"I have a very complicated relationship with free will." His tone is dry, and he huffs out a bemused breath. "In that I've never really had any."

Bucky laughs and presses at Loki's shoulder, pushing him onto his back so Bucky can shift himself half on top of him, one thigh between Loki's legs and one arm crossed over his chest. He looks at Loki fondly, one corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk. "Talk about killing the mood, huh?"

[thewrongpath]

"Oh, I don't know. Either you and I found our way to one another because we finally broke free of the hamster wheel we've been spinning on for eternity, or we were predestined to be here. Either way, that sounds rather romantic, doesn't it?" Loki's eyes were bright with playful amusement as a lifted a hand to brush the hair back from Bucky's forehead.

[semi_stable]

The reply makes Bucky smile, eyes twinkling as he scrunches his nose. Loki's hand sinks into his hair and Bucky rests his cheek in the crook of his own elbow, breathing out slowly as he studies Loki's face.

"I suppose it is pretty romantic," he admits in a casual voice, as if he isn't openly preening at Loki's gentle and attentive touches. "You're pretty good at that sometimes."

[thewrongpath]

That little nose scrunch was enough to seed a bloom of warmth in Loki's chest, which was utterly ridiculous, but the shame he expected to feel for it never came.

"I've always been able to fake it quite well," Loki said, fingertips pressing gently along Bucky's scalp. "I'm only just learning how to navigate the real thing."

[semi_stable]

“Mm, lucky us,” Bucky drawls out, referring to himself and Sylvie, because they are two people in need of kindness and romance. Unfortunately for Loki, they’re two people who have no idea how to handle such things.

“You know what would be exceedingly romantic?” Bucky asks, ducking his head to give Loki’s chest a playful nip. “If you got me some food.”

It’s very rare for Bucky to ask outright for something. He’s used to taking care of things himself, not wanting to trouble anyone, but now he feels relaxed enough, cared about enough, to occasionally make a request. Or in this case, a cheeky demand. “Since you wore me out.”

[thewrongpath]

"Oh, exceedingly? Well, in that case, what are you in the mood for? And if you say steak again, I might kick you out of this bed," Loki teased, both of them knowing quite well that even his pedestrian tastes weren't enough to earn him exile from this bed.

He could conjure food easily enough. The simplest method would be to move it from one place to another, instead of attempting to transfigure or conjure from scratch. However, even Loki could admit that food tended to taste better when magic wasn't involved.

"Delivery, or you can send me off into the wild. Within reason," he stipulated, barely hiding a grin.

[semi_stable]

“Then I guess making you go hunt wild boar is out of the question,” Bucky jokes with a dramatic sigh, smiling at the threat because he knows if he really wanted steak, that’s what he would get.

It’s strange, knowing the hold that he has over this man that holds such power. It’s a good thing that Bucky has no intention of exploiting it. Even asking him for food is a little out of the ordinary.

“Hm, how about sushi delivery?” He suggests, shifting himself up a little until he can nose at Loki’s jaw. “You like sushi, right?”

[thewrongpath]

"I believe you have me mistaken for my brother," Loki said airily, giving Bucky's hair a playful tug with the hand not currently scrolling through his phone.

"I do, indeed. There's a little place not far from here that's surprisingly good," Loki said, frowning thoughtfully as he searched for it on the delivery app. "Here we are." Adding a few staples to the cart, he asked, "Any special requests?"

[semi_stable]

The tug makes him hiss and he bites Loki's nipple in retaliation, then shifts and twists himself until he's more at Loki's side, head on the man's shoulder as he looks at the menu options. He's ordering from the expensive place that Bucky always scrolls past and he opens his mouth to say something about it, but then closes it again. This is the place Loki picked, and he isn't going to try and talk him out of it.

"I like salmon," he says, reaching out to tap the screen, stopping the scrolling when he sees one that sounds good to him. He adds it to the cart and realizes how domestic this all feels, cuddling together and ordering food. He likes it a lot. "Do they have potstickers?"

[thewrongpath]

Scrolling back up to the appetizers, Loki hummed quietly, adding them to the cart with a tap, along with an eel roll with truffle oil and seared salmon, just to be indulgent.

"Anything else?" Smirking, he pressed a kiss to Bucky's brow. "I wouldn't want to leave you unsatisfied."

[semi_stable]

“I don’t even know what truffle oil is,” he admits with a laugh, but he doesn’t feel self-conscious about it. Even though Loki is far more worldly than him, and has found himself surrounded with riches and servants and good food his entire life, he never makes Bucky feel like he’s any less of a person for having none of it.

“I feel like I’ve been spoiled more than enough,” he says quietly, eyes falling shut as Loki kisses his brow. “But thank you.”

[thewrongpath]

"It tastes earthy. I believe you'll like it," Loki murmured, adding a generous tip and submitting the order.

"The money comes from a bottomless well," Loki reminded him, the phone vanishing from his hand. "Don't worry too much about spending it."

[semi_stable]

The phone disappears and Bucky bites his bottom lip, worrying at it for a moment. He tries not to ask too many questions, but now he finds himself too curious, especially now that some of the money is being spent on him.

“Where is that well located?” Bucky asks, shifting again until he can tilt his head and look up at Loki’s face. “Are you just creating money from scratch?”

He supposes that would be fine, as long as all the small businesses that they frequent get their actual share.

[thewrongpath]

"It's an account that never runs dry. As long as I don't go too mad with it, the bank will be none the wiser, and won't go belly up in the process. Everyone I patronize gets their money," Loki said, anticipating Bucky's misgivings.

"I've used the account for other things, as well. A donation or two to the theater, that sort of thing," he said offhandedly, "Mother found it important to support the arts."

[semi_stable]

The answer is good enough for Bucky, because it maybe isn’t ethical, he’s okay with a big bank losing some money. Lord knows they take enough from other people. As long as honest, hardworking folk are getting their share, he’ll sleep just fine at night (so to speak).

“That’s a nice way to honor her,” he says quietly, twisting to look up at Loki’s face with a soft smile, because he doesn’t quite know what to say but he knows how important Loki’s mother was to him, knows about the guilt he feels, so he wants to say something.

“We should go see a play sometime,” he suggests, smiling a little. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen any live theater.”

[thewrongpath]

"I'd like that," Loki admitted, returning Bucky's smile. "I hear the ballet isn't terrible."

Being in no hurry to get dressed, Loki slipped an arm around Bucky's waist, the fingertips of his other hand drifting idly over Bucky's forearm.

"Their principle dancer was killed a few years ago. Struck by the train. All very sad," he said, though he spoke of it with the kind of interest one gave to gossip or facts pertaining to local crime.

[semi_stable]

"My mom loved the ballet," Bucky offers, shrugging a little and looking away because it's hard to talk about her. "Not that she hardly ever got to go. Maybe she did later on."

It pains him that he missed out on so many years with his family but at least in their eyes, he died a hero. If anything, he's relieved that his mother had no idea just how much he was suffering somewhere across the world.

Loki breaks through his introspection with his fun fact, and Bucky turns his head to give Loki a vaguely bewildered look, fighting back a laugh. "Why do you sound so pleased about it?"