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

[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."

[the_variant]

"That's bloody cheesy," Sylvie answers, knowing Bucky isn't talking about the city spread out before her. A smile curves her lips, despite what she's just said, one that isn't her usual smug, confident smile, but something more genuine, something she spends too much time trying to hide.

After a moment, she looks back over her shoulder at Bucky on the blanket and says, "I like it."

Cheesy or not, there's a sense of romance in moments like these she's never experienced before. It still makes her uncomfortable some of the time, because allowing someone in like this, it makes her vulnerable, it opens her up to being hurt in ways she's avoided for so long.

She turns entirely from the edge of the building and walks back to where Bucky is on the blanket, settling herself on top of his thighs, her hands pressed against the blanket on either side of his body.

[semi_stable]

When he's called out, Bucky just grins at her, brows lifting in amusement when she says that she likes it. He's glad for that, because she deserves it.

"Hello," he says once she's in his lap, putting his hands on her hips and sliding them slowly up her sides as he leans in to press a kiss to her mouth. He shifts back and pops himself up on his metal elbow, moving his other hand to her cheek, up into her hair.

"I invited you up here for drinks, and look at you," he teases, nudging their noses together and pulling her upper lip between his. "Getting so fresh with me."

[the_variant]

"Terribly sorry. I wouldn't want to scandalize a gentleman such as yourself," Sylvie answers, pulling back from the kiss and sitting up straight atop his lap. "First I'll get you a little tipsy, so you won't be so shy."

In the wrong context and the wrong company, such a joke wouldn't go over well, but Sylvie doesn't think Bucky will take offence. It isn't as if she's really going to get him drunk and take advantage of him and despite her ability to enchant people, to get inside their minds, she wouldn't do it with him and she would never use it for something as easily gotten elsewhere as sex.

She retrieves the champagne from where Bucky has set it and unwraps the foil, then points the bottle away from them both. Honestly, she's rarely opened champagne and it could go very wrong, but she manages to pop the cork without any disasters.

[semi_stable]

"I actually can't really get drunk these days," Bucky says a bit regretfully. The serum sped up his metabolism in a way that just seems to immediately burn off the alcohol. He'll still drink it out of habit, or just because he wants to, even if it doesn't do much for him.

Sylvie takes the bottle and Bucky leans away, chuckling as she rips it open. He laughs when it pops, tipping his head back to watch as the cork goes flying to land somewhere on the roof, thankfully, and not onto the street below. The bottle overflows a little and Bucky gasps when cold, fizzy bubbles roll down his neck and into the hollow of his throat.

"But I'll still let you take advantage of me," he assures her in a low rumble, grinning seductively as he squeezes her hips. It's a joke just like hers, because that isn't what she's doing at all. "As many times as you'd like."

[the_variant]

"Can you really not?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. "Of all the things they've done to you, this is clearly by far the worst."

It clearly isn't, but she's smiling and there's still light in her eyes. Even now, she's aware of how tenuous things had felt for him not terribly long ago, less than thirty minutes ago really, and she wants to continue to distract him from it. She wants him to be here. With her.

Because she loves him. A shocking revelation, even to her.

[semi_stable]

Bucky laughs at that and reaches up to wipe the champagne from his neck with his palm, tipping his head back and then breathing out as he lifts it to look at her again. She's so beautiful under the silvery light of the moon, stars twinkling above her head.

"Loki found some Asgardian ale somewhere," he remembers, chuckling a little and sliding his good hand up the back of her shirt to touch her warm skin. "Tasted like paint thinner but it did give me a little buzz. So, I guess I could drink that."

He lifts the bottle with his other hand and takes a sip, feeling the bubbles fizz on his tongue before rolling down his throat, and then hands it over to her. "It'd just be hard to let myself, you know?"

Bucky knows that she will. Better than anyone else, she understands the danger of letting your guard down, if even for a little while.

[the_variant]

"Oh god, that's hardly worth it," she answers, wrinkling her nose. Sylvie was a child the last time she had Asgardian ale, but even still, she remembers it being rather disgusting. Maybe it had just been that she was so young, not interested in drinking, but she prefers to believe her tastes were always just much too refined.

Hardly true of a woman as rough as she can be.

"Mm," she hums softly as he hands her the bottle. Rather than answer, she takes a sip, then sets the bottle aside. "Yes, I know what you mean. The first night Loki and I were on the run together, I was trying to lay low and that idiot got drunk with the very people we were hiding from. Got us kicked off the train. Quite literally, he went out the bloody window."

[semi_stable]

"It really does taste awful," he admits with a soft smile, but he does still appreciate the gift. Loki had gone out of his way to try and do something nice, something personal, and Bucky doesn't imagine that happens very often. So yeah, even though it tastes like gasoline, he'll cherish that damn bottle.

While Sylvie sits aside his lap and talks about Loki, Bucky again waits to see if he'll feel anything akin to jealousy, but he doesn't. Instead he just feels warmth and affection for both of them, laughing at Loki's antics and shaking his head with wry amusement.

"I have not been fortunate enough to see Loki that drunk," he says with a warm chuckle, because while they'd gotten buzzed on sips of that ale, it wasn't anything like what Sylvie is describing. "Maybe one night we can all plug our noses and have a few drinks, see what happens."

[the_variant]

"Only if you want to be roped into a rousing night of karaoke," she answers in a dry tone, then puts both her hands on Bucky's chest and pushes him back down onto the blanket. "And I don't want to be thinking about karaoke right now, do you?"

She has something much more interesting right here, after all, this man with whom she's developed a connection against all odds. Sylvie hadn't thought it possible for her to love one person, never mind two.

She leans in to kiss Bucky, her lips against his, the kiss almost chaste at first. Right now, she knows she's a distraction, but she hopes in a way she's a comfort, too.

[semi_stable]

"It'd just be yet another thing I've never done before you two," Bucky admits with a laugh. That particular list is a long one, and he blushes a little when he realizes that most of the things on that list are sexual. Not all, but a decent chunk. And then she pushes him back and Bucky lets himself go easily, willingly giving himself over to the warm, all-encompassing distraction that is her body.

She kisses him more softly than he expects, and Bucky smiles into it as he lifts his good hand to the side of her face, fingers sliding into her hair to push it back as he returns the kiss, pressing his mouth to hers a little more firmly because being here with her is so much better than thinking about what just happened. It doesn't deserve his attention, really. If anything, he supposes that he should be a little grateful. Now he knows for sure that the deprogramming has held up. He isn't going to revert back to being so helpless.

"I do wonder what song I'd pick," he says as he suddenly pulls away from the kiss, as if that's what he's been thinking about the whole time, and then gives her a teasing grin.

[the_variant]

"Some old song no one else knows," she answers, smirking down at him. "Something that makes everyone in the room realize you're a very old man."

She crosses her arms over his chest, rests her chin on her forearms, and looks at him with slightly narrowed eyes, considering, as if she actually knows any of the music from his time. She doesn't, she'd never spent any time on Midgard in the forties, and what she does know has been gleaned almost entirely from Bucky himself.

"All I really know are Asgardian songs," she says. "I never spent much time listening to music after that."

[semi_stable]

Her teasing makes him laugh out loud, even though what she says is entirely true. He is an old man, and that comes out in very stereotypical ways sometimes, like him finding most modern music to be just noise. But he does like music, his music, the kind that makes him think of home. He likes the kind of music that he used to dance to back when he was young and the world was small, and all he had to worry about is if he'd get a kiss at the end of the night.

"Hmm, let's see," he breathes out, sliding his hands up her sides. Maybe he can share that music with her. A song comes to mind, one that's been recorded over and over again since he was young, and he clears his throat.

"Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you," Bucky sings in a low voice, smiling as he gently thumbs at Sylvie's temple, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "Birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me."

He stops after that, chuckling a little self-consciously and putting his hand on the side of her face. "I always liked that one."

[the_variant]

"And of course you sing well, too," she says to cover the pink stain of her cheeks. The words are sweet, the melody, too, and Sylvie never knows what to do in order to deal with or accept the way her chest and stomach threaten to do gymnastics whenever Bucky or Loki are sweet with her.

"How unfair to the rest of the men in this city that you look like you do and can sing," she says as she leans into the hand he has on his face. "No wonder your only competition for me is a god."

She grins finally and leans in to kiss him again.