Chapter 5
The Asset sits across from Sam. He keeps his back straight, eyes fixed ahead. This is going to be tough.
“Hey, Bucky," Sam starts softly, trying to keep his voice calm and gentle. “How are you holding up?”
Why does everyone call him Bucky now? He thought it was just Steve’s thing. Maybe one of his perverted kinks or something. He hates the sound of that name. but clearly now everyone wants him to pretend to be this Bucky thing.
We can make this easy for you. Just tell us what we want to know, and the pain will stop…
“Operational.”
His eyes flicker to Sam, then back down.
“Right. So, uh, you remember me, right? Sam Wilson.”
If this is a punishment, then enduring it with Sam feels so much more bearable than with Steve. He disobeyed when Steve asked him to leave at the hospital. Then he said something to his commander that he shouldn’t have. But he suspects Steve may have missed that part. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so lenient with him.
“Yes sir.”
"Okay, let's cut the "sir" stuff. I'm Sam.” Sam replies, leaning forward slightly. "Steve, uh, he cares about you, you know? He wants to help."
I'm trying to help you, Soldier. But you have to meet me halfway. You have to be willing to let me in…
Steve brought him here to take his punishment, then he will take his punishment. He won’t resist. He’s learned his place. He exists to serve his handler. He will serve the Avengers just like he served Hydra.
“Bucky, I know Steve. If Steve’s on your side, there’s gotta be a reason. I want to trust you. I can see you're hurting. And I need you to trust me enough to be honest with me. It's the only way we can help you.”
You think you can lie to us? You think we don't know when you're hiding something….
He was pinned down on a slanted board, his wrists and ankles bound tightly. A cloth was draped over his face, and he struggled to breathe.
You've been difficult, Soldier. But we're going to fix that.
Someone tipped a bucket of water over his face, the liquid soaking through the cloth and flooding his nostrils and mouth. He thrashed against his restraints, his body screaming for air. He choked and gagged, their voice barely audible over his gasps.
Lies have consequences, Soldier, and you will learn that lesson well…
What did he lie about? Something about an eyewitness, he thinks. It was stupid. The water filled his lungs, each session blurring into the next until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. In the rare moments he was allowed to breathe, he made a silent vow to himself to never lie to protect anyone again.
“You don't have to answer if you don't want to, Bucky.”
Shit.
He isn’t listening.
“I respect that.”
NONONO….
Sam would report back to Steve. This is getting worse. How could he make Sam understand? He’s learned his place.
He can beg. STRIKE likes it when he begged.
Want some of this, Soldier? Maybe if you beg pretty enough, we'll show you some mercy. Maybe.
Sometimes if he offered to blow them voluntarily without a demand for anything in return, they treated him kindly for days. They might even pet his head and say nice things to him. Sometimes he just needed to be a little proactive. But that was the game he played with the Russians. STIRKE didn't buy it. He tried it once with STRIKE and they had only laughed and mocked him.
Where is Steve now? Wake up, Barnes. He’s abandoned you before and he’ll do it again….
But either case, he won’t beg Steve for it.
He finds himself so angry at Steve.
He can come up with some bullshit, degrade himself even further for Sam's amusement. Then maybe Sam would keep their secrets between them and tell Steve whatever he wants to hear. He knows what to do and he knows the words to say. He can crawl through broken glass and lick Sam’s boots clean. That worked for Rollins once. If it worked for Rollins then it must work for everybody. Rollins was a man hard to please.
Has Captain America ever used you like this? Tell us how Captain America uses you….
When he attempts to rise, Sam’s reaction is swift and has his hands where his holster usually rested, though he doesn’t have a gun there today.
Fuck. Sam is still so tense around him. That spells trouble. Not only does he have to endure his punishment, but he also has to prove his obedience. That is the hard part. Last time he harmed his handler, they put him to solitary in a pitch-black cell for months until he could prove his obedience.
Look at you, Still trying to act tough?
He was shackled to a chair, his arms and legs restrained.
You know, I always thought if someone was going to get this intimate with me, they’d at least buy me dinner first...
He talked back. The taste of copper filled his senses again. Why did he talk back? Why had he challenged them? He starts trembling. Why why why would he do that unforgivable
Smith smacked him hard across his face. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
You think this is a joke?
What's wrong? Can’t take a joke?
Another blow landed, harder this time. Someone punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
Is this your first day? I've had worse from a paper cut.
FUCK FUCK STOP Why did he say that NO he gasps for air
“I'm sorry.” Bucky's voice quivers as he kneels.
“Bucky, are you okay?”
He was thrown to the floor, his body hitting the ground. He tried to push himself up, but a boot to his back forced him down again, the taste of blood and dirt mingling on his tongue.
“I'm so, so sorry. I'll do anything to make it right. Please, just forgive me.”
Someone grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his head back violently.
“Bucky, can you stand up?”
Stay down, you little shit...
“Can you breathe with me?”
Oh, you thought this was over? We're just getting started..
“I’m fine.” He swallows and forces the words past his lips.
He can’t afford to panic now, not when the stakes are so high.
The way you cling to him, like a lost puppy desperate for affection, it's almost pitiful. Steve doesn't love you, Bucky.
He can take his punishment. Steve wants him to take his punishment. Steve. When Steve punished him.
When Steve punished him.
When Steve punished him, it hurt him so much more.
But you, you're better than that. Why do you continue to cling to him, allowing him to manipulate and control you? Perhaps it's time you break free. Perhaps it's time you realize your true worth and embrace it.
As he stands, his muscles coil with tension.
"Bucky, I need to ask you something,"
Bucky forces a nod. He doesn’t trust his voice right now.
"Is there anything Steve does or says that makes you feel uncomfortable or intimidated?"
Fuck.
Is it that obvious?
"No, nothing,"
He clenches his jaw, forcing a neutral expression.
Bucky stammers, his voice trembling slightly. "Steve... he's... he's always been good to me.”
Sam studies him for a moment, his gaze piercing.
“Never... never made me feel uncomfortable. He's... he's the reason I'm still here.”
A forced smile tugs at his lips. He’s playing a dangerous game, but for now, it is the only option he has.
“I'm grateful,” he murmurs, staring past Sam at nothing in particular. " for everything he does for me."
It is a script he knows too well.
"for his help," Bucky continues, "for always being there for me."
Sam's brow furrows slightly, concern deepening.
“Steve is... he's everything to me. He's always looking out for me, always taking care of me. I owe him so much. I just want to show him that I'm worth all the trouble he's gone through.”
"Okay, just checking," Sam nods, his tone gentle. "I want you to feel safe here, Bucky.”
Great.
Sam seems to consider something, then asks, "How do you feel about Rumlow? Did he ever make you uncomfortable?"
Bucky's heart skips a beat.
"Rumlow?" Bucky hesitates, trying to find the right words. "Commander... he worked with me a lot. He... he guided me and... cared about me."
"I... I like him a lot," Bucky admits.
The words feel wrong. Steve doesn’t like Rumlow.
Sam's eyes widen slightly, "Like him a lot?"
He adds hastily, "But not as much as I like Steve. Steve is... he's different. He's...he's everything to me."
Sam studies him for a moment longer, "Bucky, it's okay. You've been through a lot. But just know, Steve cares about you."
Bucky nods, showing another smile.
“Okay. I’ll see you at the dinner then.”
Wait
Isn’t this supposed to be a punishment? If Sam doesn’t follow through now, what does that mean?
We could use a distraction.
No.
That’s what Steve said. He knows what that means. Steve loves to humiliate him. He’s like Rollins. Like STRIKE. Wasn’t Steve part of STRIKE Alpha? God he fits right in there.
It’s that kind of punishment then.
Do you like that, Soldier
He was on his hands and knees. Rollins knelt beside him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head up. With a swift motion, Rollins slapped him hard across the face.
Do you like being put in your place?
The force of the blow made his vision blur, and before he could recover, another slap landed.
Look at you.
Bucky's head snapped back with each slap, his cheek swelling and bruising. The grip on his hair tightened, pulling painfully.
Open your mouth
He hesitated, his body trembling. Another slap.
I said, open your mouth
When the asset complied, Rollins breathed heavily and unzipped his pants.
You know what to do. And you better be good at it.
Tears mixed with the blood from his split lip.
Jack…why can’t you just fuck him like a normal person. You have to beat the shit out of him every time?
He gagged, Rollins’ hands tightening their grip on his hair.
Cuddle him like you do? Too fucking gay man.
“Yes…Sam.”
Steve stands beside the kitchen countertop, a sense of familiarity washing over him as he chops vegetables. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board is oddly comforting. He decides to keep things simple and casual tonight, inviting the Avengers over to their place.
Earlier that day, Sam mentioned he had a theory about Bucky, but he wasn't sure yet. He said he needed more time to observe and test his hypothesis. He also suggested bringing in a shrink, as soon as possible.
Everything seems to be going smoothly until now. Bucky greeted Clint and Natasha when they arrived, following the routine Steve coached him through. Hi. How are you. Nice to meet you too. He offered gentle encouragement as Bucky mimicked his words and gestures.
And that was it. Natasha didn’t seem interested in engaging further, and Clint followed her to the living room. The brief interaction left him with a deep lingering sadness. Seeing Bucky like this is a knife twist to his heart. Hydra had turned his once charming and charismatic sergeant, who could light up a room with his presence, into a ruthless assassin where the simplest of pleasantries seems beyond his grasp.
As he continues cutting a carrot, he glances at Bucky standing nearby, staring.
“Bucky do you want to go relax?” Steve asks.
Bucky suddenly stiffens at the suggestion.
Nonono He can’t just tell Bucky to do whatever he wants. He’s made that mistake once.
But he can’t just give Bucky orders. Go relax. Go hang out with my friends. Go Eat. Drink. Have fun. Kill somebody.
That would make him no different than Hydra.
He takes a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
“…or do you prefer to watch me cook?”
“…watch you cook.” Bucky eyes him wearily. “Steve.”
“okay.” Steve observes Bucky's distant expression, “I'll whip up some egg drop soup. Maybe you can give it a try. Just a little. I remember you used to enjoy it back in the day, though that was during the Depression, so...”
He notices Bucky's gaze drifting and vacant again. “Anyways. You can watch me cook.”
“Yes, Steve.”
When he stops talking, voices from the living room filters in.
"Seriously, not every guy is that easily swayed," Clint remarks, gesturing towards Natasha with a casual shrug, "or seduced, no offense."
“Oh baby. You’re cute.” Natasha's response is nonchalant, her tone flat as she lounges on the sofa, only half-engaged in the banter.
“Loki pulled some magic trick on me. No decent man would fall for your games. Rapists and terrorists, maybe.” Clint retorts.
A faint smile dances across Natasha's lips. “Oh sweetheart, you really want to know how I manipulate people?” With a graceful rise from the sofa, she beckons Clint over. "Come here."
Intentionally, Natasha's gaze shifts, directing her attention towards Bucky. “and you, милая.”
Bucky's attention snaps to Natasha. He glances at Steve.
“Nat…” He's worried this little game might not be beneficial for Bucky's fragile state of recovery right now.
Natasha meets Steve's gaze with an inscrutable expression and tiles her head.
Maybe Natasha understands brainwashing better than him. And he trusts her. So fuck it. Why not?
He sighs, gesturing for Bucky to join Natasha. "Go ahead, Bucky."
Bucky immediately moves towards Natasha, Clint trailing behind him, forming a half-circle so Steve can observe.
"Okay," Natasha declares, extending her hand as if cradling an invisible treat. "Now I have two slices of chocolate cake."
"There’s literally nothing on your hand," Clint scoffs.
"Patience." she instructs, using her other hand to guide Clint's hand. “Will you hold the package for me?”
Natasha acts like she’s in some self-tape audition and there’s no props. She pretends to unwrap an imaginary box, placing it gently in Clint's outstretched hand.
“Here’s a chocolate for you.” she announces, miming the act of selecting an invisible treat and offering it to Bucky's mouth.
She waits. Bucky hesitates for a moment, then obediently opened his mouth, playing along with Natasha's charade.
“And here’s one for me.” Natasha continues, her gestures fluid as she pretends to savor the nonexistent chocolate.
“Now do you believe I have two cakes on my hand?” Natasha's smirk is playful as she turns her gaze to Bucky.
Bucky stares at her for a few seconds and nods.
"Oh come on! There’s nothing on your hand!" Clint exclaims.
"Then why are you holding the package for me, honey?" Natasha's response is swift, her tone teasing.
Clint glances down at his still-extended palm and quickly lowers it.
Steve laughs quietly.
“Since you're a believer, sweetheart, I'll share my cake with you.” Natasha tiles her chin towards Bucky, “hand.”
Without hesitation, Bucky raises his hand. In one smooth motion, Natasha drops a small, intricate Easter egg pendant into Bucky's waiting palm.
When did she get the jewelry in her hand?
"Damn, you actually got him a necklace?"
Bucky stares at the unexpected gift in his hand, while Steve's smile widens.
"Wait, hold up,"” Clint continues, still processing the sudden twist, “This is a necklace, though.”
"It's a Fabergé egg. Emperor Nicholas II's, to be precise."
"Okay." Clint persists, determined to win the argument. "A Russian imperial necklace. So what? Still not a cake, Bucky."
Natasha's grin widens mischievously and she reaches into the bag she brought along.
"Here's the cake for you," she declares, pulling out a packaged rich chocolate cake and placing it in Bucky's waiting hand.
Clint's jaw drops. He can't help but chuckle now.
"Oh, Clint," she talks to him as if she’s talking to a puppy, "Did you forget?"
Clint looks at her, a mix of awe and confusion dancing in his eyes.
“I said I have two cakes.” She then reveals another slice of cake, offering it to Clint with a smug grin.
He laughs as he watches Clint accepts the cake with an open mouth and Natasha saunters back to the couch like nothing happened.
Turning his attention back to Bucky, he places a gentle touch on his shoulder, drawing his focus away from the cake in his hand.
"Hey." Steve says softly. Caught off guard by Steve's touch, Bucky blinks, momentarily startled.
“Sorry.” Steve apologizes quickly, immediately withdrawing his hand.
Bucky looks up and slowly hands the cake to him.