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]

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?"

[thewrongpath]

Loki watched the way Bucky seemed to shrink a bit, at the mention of his mother, and decided not to push it further, for now. Loki wanted to hear about her, just as Bucky had wanted to know about Loki's mother, but it seemed important to let him get there on his own time.

"I'm not!" Loki laughed, resting a hand on Bucky's cheek. "It's interesting, that's all. When we first arrived, I spent some time trying to make sense of this place. To find an escape, or any clue who brought us here, or why. Which was, of course, mind-numbingly futile, but what I could find was full of all sorts of curious bits."

[semi_stable]

Bucky smiles at the sound of Loki’s laugh, watching him with a fondly amused expression as Loki’s hand comes to rest on his cheek. He’d done something similar when he first arrived, blending in with government employees to try and find something useful.

“You’re probably one of those people who watch murder shows,” he says with a chuckle, twisting again until he’s back on his belly, draped over Loki’s chest. “Serial killer documentaries.”

[thewrongpath]

"There's nothing wrong with being informed," Loki said with playful haughtiness, a hand rubbing gentle circles along Bucky's spine as they settled together, legs tangled atop the sheets.

"I thought I might find some trace of the TVA when I first arrived. Sylvie was so desperate to get back, to see what came of what we'd done..."

He refused to say what she'd done. Yes, she'd thrown him out of the void, and the decision had ultimately been her own, but he'd been with her up until that point. He refused to let her shoulder the burden alone.

[semi_stable]

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Bucky jokes, staring up at Loki and humming his approval at the way Loki touches him. He used to flinch off every touch because he associated touch with something bad, something painful, so he’d back away and bare his teeth like an abused animal.

But now, with them, he craves it. Their hands on his body soothes something in him, something he long thought broken.

“I don’t think we’ll know until someone from after shows up here,” Bucky admits, but the thought worries him, too. “But from what we’ve heard, the two of you are still back home fighting. Maybe I’m there, too.”

[thewrongpath]

"Yes, so they say," Loki agreed, his big toe trailing along the inside of Bucky's ankle. He seemed incapable of not touching him everywhere he was able, and luckily, Bucky certainly didn't seem to mind.

"Oh, if that's the case, I'm sure we're getting on splendidly," Loki said, eyes alight with amusement.

[semi_stable]

"Stranger things have happened," Bucky says dryly, lifting a brow as he raises his hand to drag it through Loki's hair, tousling the dark curls. Before Loki can retaliate, Bopp lets out one sharp bark from the living room and it's followed almost immediately by a knock at the the door. "I'll get it."

He rolls off of the bed and ends up on his feet, stepping into a pair of sweats on his way down the hall. As soon as he's away from Loki, walking past the spot where he collapsed on the floor and cried, he feels a little uneasy. Memories from earlier creep in and he reminds himself that the words are useless. They only have power over him now if he lets them.

After collecting food from the delivery guy, who seemed vaguely flustered by his naked chest and robot arm, Bucky grabs two bottles off water from the fridge and is followed back down the hall by Bopp. Once back in the bedroom, she puts her head on the bed to sniff at Loki's knee and then goes to flop into her bed under the window.

"Here you go, your majesty," Bucky teases as he steps up onto the bed, settling down into a cross-legged position as he starts to unload the boxes. "I need to change the sheets anyway."

[thewrongpath]

Chuckling softly, Loki propped himself against the headboard, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, though he left it otherwise mussed, even as he donned a pair of soft, black sleep pants.

"Hello, madam," he murmured, reaching out to scratch behind Bopp's ears before she drifted away to her place beneath the window.

"How indulgent," Loki teased, crossing his own legs so that they could spread their food between them. Cracking open one of the sushi trays, he popped a piece into his mouth, humming his approval.

[semi_stable]

It's only once all the food is spread out in front of him that Bucky realizes just how hungry he is, and he's halfway through one of his rolls before he pauses for a drink of water. The place he usually orders from is fine, but this one, he must admit, is better. But that's how it always goes. The people with the most money get all the best stuff.

"What's that smell? He asks suddenly, sniffing the air in a way that's vaguely reminiscent of Bopp. It's earthy and kind of funky, and he looks suspiciously at a box still sitting closed near Loki's thigh. "Is that the truffle stuff?"

[thewrongpath]

Laughing, Loki picked up the box and opened the lid, waving the tray enticingly in front of Bucky's face.

"Come on, I know you can be adventurous," he goaded, stealing a piece for himself and popping it into his mouth. It really was quite good, the truffle oil complimenting the taste of the fish without overpowering it.

[semi_stable]

When Loki opens the lid, Bucky's nose wrinkles at the strong smell, which isn't particularly good or bad, and narrows his eyes a little as he looks at the roll suspiciously. Loki seems to enjoy it, so Bucky reaches up with his chopsticks to carefully take a piece of it for himself.

"You have to remember that I have a Depression era palate," he jokes, lifting a hand under his chin as he puts the roll in his mouth. It's a burst of flavor and his eyes widen a bit, then narrow once again when he realizes that Loki was right.

"It's fine," he says with his mouth full, hoping the lack of manners might distract him from being smug about it.