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]

“I never would have guessed,” Bucky says with a dry laugh, biting his bottom lip with an amused smirk as he watches Loki’s face while he looks at Bucky. He looks appreciative, and while Bucky knows that he isn’t suffering in the looks department, Loki is staring like he’s something beyond simply handsome.

“It takes a lot for me to work up a sweat,” he admits, and if he happens to lazily rock his hips in Loki’s lap as he says it, it’s just a coincidence. “My walk wasn’t quite vigorous enough.”

[thewrongpath]

"And you're hoping to remedy that?" Loki guessed, huffing a soft laugh as Bucky rocked against him, a hand slipping beneath the elastic waistband of his sweats.

Loki had his fill of beautiful people, throughout the centuries, but there was something uniquely captivating about this man. He was unfairly handsome, yes, but they were both well aware that this went beyond simple attraction.

[semi_stable]

“I’m just stating facts,” Bucky says innocently, chuckling a little as Loki’s hand slides under his waistband, fingers pressing into the swell of his ass. “You’re the one copping a feel.”

It’s clear he doesn’t mind. For someone generally uncomfortable with being touched, he can’t get enough of it from Loki. He craves it, and even now he sways forward as if entranced, even though he knows that Loki would never do that to him.

He lifts his hands to put them on Loki’s shoulders, metal thumb tracing the sharp line of his jaw before his fingers sink into Loki’s soft hair. “But I guess it’s okay.”

[thewrongpath]

"You're the one sitting in my lap, I'm only trying to find a comfortable place to rest my hands," Loki countered playfully, pushing Bucky's waistband lower on his hips, just shy of exposing the base of his cock.

His palm curled along the swell of Bucky's ass, squeezing gently but exploring no further.

[semi_stable]

“Oh, please do excuse me,” Bucky says in a fairly decent imitation of Loki’s accent, letting himself fall backwards to land on his back between Loki’s outstretched legs, knees bent over Loki’s thighs and feet planted into the bed next to his hips.

He stretches his arms over his head, muscles rippling as he looks up at the ceiling with a smirk. With his ass nestled between Loki’s thighs, the position gives him a direct view of Bucky’s crotch, thin fabric stretching over his mostly flaccid cock.

It’s a vulnerable position, but Bucky doesn’t feel vulnerable. He feels a little at peace, a little aroused, but mostly calm, almost playful as he slides his hands along Loki’s shins.

[thewrongpath]

Loki chuckled softly, his hands resting on Bucky's knees, his touch almost casual. With Bucky's body laid out before him, there was almost too much possibility, though Loki had never been one to find himself frozen by indecision.

If he chose something now, he could always have something else later.

So, for the moment, Loki only touched him, his hands sliding further up Bucky's inner thighs, squeezing gently. "I never thought I'd find a man in sweatpants so alluring," he said conversationally, though the creases at the corners of his eyes betrayed his amusement.

[semi_stable]

For as much as Bucky enjoys the way that they sometimes come together in a rush of passion and heat, he's finding that he likes these moments just as much. It's unlike Bucky to lounge in bed, but he's happy to do so when Loki's in it, too. It's lazy and unhurried and there's comfort in that feeling of security, knowing that they don't have to rush. There is do deadline, no doomsday clock, no mission. They can simply be.

"Apparently that's the look these days," Bucky replies, as if he knows anything about modern fashion. He always liked to stay with the trends, but these days it's all a little overwhelming. "I saw a magazine article that said that gray sweatpants are one of the sexiest things a man can wear. If only I'd known it were that simple."

Loki's palms slide at his inner thighs, pressing in against muscles just a little sore from the previous night's activities, and Bucky closes his eyes with an approving hum, spreading his arms out to the side.

[thewrongpath]

"Ah, so you thought you'd don them regularly to torment me, I see," Loki teased, his thumb working into that tight muscle before sliding higher, his hands just shy of framing Bucky's crotch.

"You might be one of the most tactile people I've ever known," he said, watching the other man relax by degrees under his hands, all that strength made deliciously vulnerable.

[semi_stable]

"I just happen to look good in gray and these are comfortably. Merely a coincidence," Bucky drawls out, eyes still closed as he smirks. No, he didn't go buy sweatpants with Loki in mind, but he's glad to the effect they have.

Loki's next words are entirely unexpected and Bucky's eyes open as he jerks his head up, giving Loki a look that's confused and a little surprised.

"Am I?" He asks, muscles in his chest and stomach flexing as he lifts his shoulders to get a better look at his legs sprawled open wide in Loki's lap, like he's that easy. For Loki, maybe he is.


Bucky used to be tactile person, he supposes. He hugged his mother and his sisters, put his arms around his buddies, leaned against Steve, huddled with soldiers in foxholes. But that was a long time ago. "I don't think that's how most people would describe me."

[thewrongpath]

"I'm not most people," Loki pointed out, smirking at the look of bemusement on Bucky's face. "It turns out, I'm very observant. And you, Bucky Barnes, like to be touched."

Moving his hands from the insides of Bucky's thighs, Loki framed his waist, his hands sliding up over his sides and curving along the base of his ribs.

[semi_stable]

"Ain't that the truth," Bucky says dryly, drawing his elbows in and resting his weight on them so he can prop himself up and watch Loki's hands move along his body, because not only does he like to be touched, he apparently likes to watch himself be touched, too.

"Perhaps by a select few," he says with a raised brow, though there's a slight flush on his cheeks. If he's being honest, he can't really think of a time where he's been near Loki in recent months where they hadn't been touching in some way.

"You seem to like touching me," he adds, touching his tongue to the corner of his mouth as he looks up from Loki's hands to his face. "So I guess we're both pretty lucky."

[thewrongpath]

"I suppose it passes the time well enough," Loki teased, his palms gliding over Bucky's chest, over his shoulders, giving the same attention to prosthetic as he did to flesh.

"It seems I was in need of a new hobby." His eyes sparkled with mirth, his hands falling once again to Bucky's hips and tugging him forward until they were pressed flush. They were both only just getting hard, but there was a pleasure in the closeness that went beyond the possibility for sex.

[semi_stable]

"Better than needlepoint," Bucky offers, smirking softly as Loki's hands travel his body, including his left arm. It would be an easy thing to ignore it, to treat it as an extra piece of him, but Loki never does. He touches it like it's as much a part of Bucky as the rest of him, and he hadn't realized how much something like that could mean to him. He's struggled mentally with his prosthetic at times, even spending some time hating it for what it seemed to represent, but lately he's becoming more and more comfortable with it. He wouldn't attribute that all to Loki, but he certainly helped.

When Loki pulls him in, dragging him forward as if he weighs nothing at all, Bucky's breath hitches and he shifts a little, pressing himself up onto his hands as he stares at Loki's face, practically bent in half.

"Is that what I am? Your hobby?" Bucky asks, chuckling fondly and giving him a playful smirk.

[thewrongpath]

"Hm, that's not the word I'd use, no," Loki said, returning Bucky's smirk and leaning forward to nudge a kiss to his lips. It was almost chaste, at first, lips closed, eyes open to half mast, then he slowly pressed deeper, his tongue sweeping past Bucky's lips.

They hadn't discussed labels, and he saw no pressing need to now, but as someone who tended to assume people talked about him all the time when he wasn't around, he was curious how Bucky might refer to him to others.

[semi_stable]

“That’s not the word, huh?” Bucky drawls out as Loki leans in to kiss him, meeting him halfway and reaching up to put a hand on the side of his neck. He knows that what the three of them have together in unconventional, and he doesn’t feel a pressing urge to define it, but he can’t help being curious about some things. Is Loki his boyfriend, and Sylvie his girlfriend? That sounds so immature, so— fleeting.

Another small part of him is nervous to bring it up, because what if Loki and Sylvie have had this conversation, and they have something for each other but not him? It’s a silly worry, and he knows it’s probably not the case, but he’s so new to all of this. Being a little self-conscious at times is only human, he figures.

Or maybe he should just be honest.

“I don’t know what to call you,” he admits quietly, almost bashful as he presses his face into Loki’s neck, pressing a kiss to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I know we don’t— I know that you’re not mine, really, but you’re my something, right?”

[thewrongpath]

"But I am yours," Loki argued, and at any other moment, with just about any other person, he might've been simply an argument for the sake of it. A need to be contrary, because it was his nature.

But this came from an honest place, the words escaping before he could turn them into something prettier.

"Sylvie doesn't change that. I haven't given you the leftover pieces of myself she doesn't have use for," Loki said, gently pushing a strand of Bucky's hair back from his face. "I'm yours. Your lover and your friend. A partner of sorts, I think," he admitted, his mouth downturned in a thoughtful frown. "Paramour, perhaps? Special friend, if we want to get coyly old-fashioned."

[semi_stable]

The reassurance soothes him, and he’s grateful that Loki understands that he needs it and doesn’t take offense to Bucky’s insecurity. He’s patient in a way that would probably surprise a lot of people to learn.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners as Loki speaks, and maybe it’s a corny thing to think, but he’s so romantic. It feels like he’s swooning, and he knows his cheeks have gone pink.

“Yes, please refer to me as your paramour,” Bucky jokes with a soft smile, nudging his nose against Loki’s. “Not my boyfriend, then? My special guy?”

[thewrongpath]

"I am over a thousand years old. Does boyfriend really seem appropriate?" Loki asked, lips pressing against Bucky's visibly flushed cheek.

Chuckling, he framed Bucky's face in his hands, barely stifling an amused grin. "It is rather cute isn't it? I'll start doodling your name in the margins of my notebooks."

[semi_stable]

“Mrs. Loki Barnes,” Bucky replies with a matching grin, thinking of the heart-dotted i in his notebook. “And you can wear my letterman’s jacket.”

He grins and presses a line of kisses along Loki’s jaw, cradling the sides of his neck and biting his own lip to keep from chuckling. “Since we’re going steady now.”

[thewrongpath]

"Hm," Loki hummed thoughtfully, and with a flicker of magic, he was suddenly wearing what he approximated to be the general garb of a 1940s Midgardian teen— khakis and a plain white tee, trousers neatly belted at the waist, and a letterman cardigan thrown overtop. His hair was cut short in a look more befitting the era, tight on the sides and a bit longer on top, and gelled back neatly.

The letter appliqued to the front pocket of his sweater was a large B.

"You were imagining something like this?"

[semi_stable]

The green glimmer makes Bucky open his eyes and when he sees that Loki has altered his appearance, he pulls back to get a better look. What he finds in front of him is enough to make his jaw drop, and he lets out a delighted laugh, shifting back so he can get up onto his knees.

"Oh my God." Loki looks like someone he would have seen back home, someone that Bucky would have found attractive, and he would have felt a little ashamed of it. He would have looked away, fighting the urge to stare. Here and now, he doesn't need to do any such thing.

"Wow, look at you," he breathes out with a soft chuckle, reaching out to cup the side of Loki's face, fingertips brushing the short hair above his ears. "I'd be lying if I said this wasn't doing it for me, doll."

[thewrongpath]

"I'd be lying if I said that wasn't the point," Loki said, affecting a passable American accent.

His neck felt strangely naked without the fall of his hair, and he certainly wouldn't be making it a regular thing, but with the way Bucky looked at him in that moment, he wasn't in much of a hurry to change back.

He turned to press a kiss to Bucky's palm, then leaned back against the headboard, smirking playfully. "It seems we've found another button for me to push," he said, still in that accent— not quite Brooklyn, but something more generic.

[semi_stable]

Loki speaks and Bucky's brows lift in slight surprise, mouth still hanging open as he stares at Loki, flushing a bit as Loki kisses his palm. It should go without saying that Bucky greatly prefers how Loki normally looks, and he certainly wouldn't want this change to be permanent, but he's sure Loki knows that. This is just a game, Loki pushing another one of Bucky's buttons, as he's said, and he wants to damn well enjoy it.

"I think you've figured out most the switchboard by now," Bucky says, finally closing his mouth and swallowing hard, laughing huskily as he slide his hands down Loki's chest, straightening the lines of his sweater. Seeing that B makes him feel all warm and mushy inside, which is ridiculously sentimental, and he lays his hand flat over the letter as he looks up at Loki's face.

"Touching you while you look like this feels like it should be off limits," he admits almost shyly, dropping his gaze briefly to Loki's mouth. "I always had to pretend I didn't want to."

[thewrongpath]

"There's nothing stopping you now," he pointed out, his smile softening, his hand wrapping loosely around Bucky's wrist.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," he said, pausing briefly for affect. "I want you to touch me."

It was true, but for the moment, he was speaking as any number of those boys Bucky might've encountered in his youth. The boys he'd been afraid to pursue. Many of those boys most likely had secret desires of their own.

[semi_stable]

"That's a very poorly kept secret," Bucky jokes, but he's smiling, staring at Loki with a soft expression, because while this is all very sexy, it's also kind of sweet. Whether it was his intention or not, he's giving Bucky something of a gift in letting him resolve something from his youth, turning a forbidden desire into something real.

With one of Loki's hands around his metal wrist, Bucky lifts his other hand to Loki's face again, sliding it around to the back of his neck, fingers sliding through the short hair there as he leans in to press a soft kiss to Loki's mouth.

"It's mutual," he murmurs between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip and pressing a line of soft, open-mouthed kisses to his jaw. "I always want you to be touching me, but you knew that already."