I'm fine. It's not that bad. I'll be fine. I'll be home soon. I'm fine. I can hold it. I can make it.
These were the things Bucky thought to himself as he continued walking. He wasn't sure if he was lying to himself or not.
He had barely felt the urge before he'd left home, not even really a need, just kind of a reminder. But he'd ignored it, in favor of getting to the grocery store before it got too packed, which it usually did by around noon.
Once he'd gotten there, he'd done the shopping as normal, but the urge got worse pretty fast for some reason. Maybe he had drank too much coffee that morning.
By the time he was paying at the register, he was consciously trying not to let on to everyone around him how badly he needed to piss. He pressed his thighs together as he swiped his credit card, and fidgeted a little, but trying not to move too much at the same time.
When he was handed the receipt and grabbed his bags, he tried not to run to the bathroom near the entrance, but he was probably moving a little faster than normal.
Then he had to try not to scream out loud at the 'closed for cleaning' sign on the bathroom door. He turned and walked out of the store as nonchalantly as he could manage, beginning the walk back to his and Steve's apartment with the groceries Steve had sent him for.
Steve had eaten some leftover Chinese food last night that might have been a little too old. He'd gotten sick, with a bad stomachache and the typical tummy troubles that accompany this type of illness. He still wasn't feeling too well today, so he sent Bucky to do the grocery shopping alone while he stayed home to be close to the bathroom.
Bucky could only hope that he wouldn't be in the bathroom when he got home, because that was definitely the first place he was running to.
He tried to ignore his bladder as he kept walking, trying to tell himself it wasn't that bad and he could hold it, he's a grown adult and not a baby, and so on and so forth. But it wasn't working.
His bladder was pulsing and pounding with each step he took, and he had the almost overwhelming urge to hold himself, but his hands were full with the grocery bags, and besides, he was in public!
He walked a little faster, considering running but he quickly struck that thought out. He was nearly sure he couldn't hold it if he started running. At this point he was trying not to step too hard while walking, surely running would be the breaking point.
He was stopped at a crosswalk. The seconds seemed to stretch on and on and it seemed like it was taking forever. He quickly looked around to make sure nobody was looking in his direction, then crossed his legs and squirmed a little on his feet as he waited for the crosswalk. It helped just a bit, and momentarily he felt like it actually wasn't that bad. Then the sign changed, and it was his turn to cross the street.
As soon as he uncrossed his legs and started walking again, the need was back with a vengeance. He tried not to panic as a harsh wave washed over him, and his bladder threatened to leak. He was able to hold it back, but he knew he was in trouble. He needed to get home. Now.
He tried to walk a little faster, carefully as to not jostle his bladder with his movements, as the desperate spasms came and went, making him bite his lip and fight with the urge to just drop the bags and waddle into the nearest alleyway to piss behind a dumpster. He was almost home now, maybe a couple of blocks. It shouldn't be that hard to just wait a few more minutes.
But it was that hard.
His bladder kept cramping, pulsing urgently as waves of need steadily spread through his abdomen and groin. He could feel the liquid in him traveling downwards in his urethra, towards the tip of his dick. He clenched all his muscles to keep it in, but nevertheless he felt that first short spurt burst through, dampening his underwear. He panicked.
He broke out in a run, not caring if people stared at the guy with the metal arm and panicked look on his face sprinting down the sidewalk with several grocery bags in tow. He was nearly home, he could see the building up ahead. All he had to do was get there.
He burst through the door, running up the stairs, throwing open the door to the apartment, which was luckily unlocked since Steve was home. He slammed it behind him and dropped the bags, both hands immediately going to his crotch. He ran to the bathroom, nearly tripping over Alpine, Bucky and Steve's beloved pet cat, who was lying in a sunbeam from the window in the middle of the living room floor. He jumped over her and continued down the hall to the bathroom, one hand reaching for the knob as the other desperately squeezed at his dick, and turned the knob. Locked. The bathroom door was locked.
He anxiously pounded on the door. "Steve?"
"Just a minute, Buck." Steve said from the bathroom. Then Bucky heard retching and a splash. "I'm almost done-" Steve was cut off by more retching.
Bucky couldn't wait just a minute. He ran back out to the living room, urgently hopping from foot to foot as he stood, still holding himself as he tried to come up with another option. The sink! He ran into the kitchen, ready to whip his dick out at the kitchen sink, only to see it full of dishes and soapy water, Steve must've been doing the dishes before he had to go throw up.
He was done for. Standing there in the kitchen, both hands between his tightly crossed legs, probably looking pretty pathetic, he knew he was done. Steve was in the bathroom and the sink was full and he had no other options, he was going to piss his pants. His bladder cramped hard and another short spurt wet his already damp underwear, and he felt like he could cry. He tried to hold on, optimistically thinking that maybe somehow he could wait for the bathroom, but in the back of his mind he knew he couldn't.
He felt something against his ankle and looked down. Alpine had come in, and she was purring and rubbing herself on his ankle, as cats are known to do. Then the idea struck. Alpine. Alpine's litter box. It was in the corner of the living room next to the bookshelf. The thought of doing that almost felt naughty, like he'd be doing something evil, like he'd be betraying his precious kitty cat. But it was the litter box, or his jeans. It was his only option. His last resort.
He ran out of the kitchen, back out to the living room, feeling himself dripping with every step, and now feeling the wetness under his hands, he knew he had to move fast. He dropped down to his knees in front of the litter box, hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans and lowering his zip. He was just about to whip it out when he heard a meow.
He grabbed his crotch again to hold on, looking back behind him at Alpine, who had apparently followed him, and was now sitting on the arm of the couch.
"Meooow"
"Don't look! I'll clean your box after, just go!"
"Mrrowww"
"I'll be quick, please just turn around!"
"Meoooooowwww"
"Go! Don't watch! Just consider this payback for puking on the couch last week."
It suddenly occurred to him that he was wasting precious time. What was he doing sitting here arguing with a damn cat? He needed to piss so badly he was leaking, and he was talking to an animal instead of relieving himself.
He scooted over a bit to block Alpine's view, glancing back to make sure she wasn't looking, and pulled himself out. Another leak burst through as he was taking aim, splashing onto the floor, but he positioned himself just in time for the floodgates to open completely.
He sighed deeply in relief, letting the feeling wash over him as his bladder steadily deflated. He pissed for what felt like forever, feeling blissful and calm as his bladder emptied, and by the time his stream tapered off he almost wished it he was still going. It had just felt that amazing. He put his dick away, grimacing at the feeling of his cold, soaked underwear, buttoned and zipped his jeans, and got up. He turned only to see Steve standing there, with a big grin on his face. Alpine was purring and rubbing on Steve's ankles.
Bucky's face felt hot as they just stared at each other, neither of them speaking until Bucky said,
"Shut up."
"I didn't say anything." Steve said, still grinning.
Bucky just grunted in response, walking past Steve to the bedroom to change his pants and underwear.
By the time he came back out, Steve was in the middle of cleaning the litter box, scooping and dumping the litter into the trash bag next to him. Alpine was sitting next to him, meowing and chattering, tail swishing in the air.
"I was gonna clean it," Bucky says quietly, feeling embarrassed.
"Well I got here first, I guess." Steve says, sounding amused.
"I couldn't hold it. I tried to wait for you to be done in the bathroom...."
"You don't have to defend yourself to me, I thought it was funny. I don't think Alpine did, though."
Bucky didn't respond, walking back towards the door to grab the grocery bags he'd abandoned there. He took them to the kitchen, and started putting everything away. He heard a thunk a minute later, and turned to see Alpine standing on the counter, purring.
"Sorry."
"Meoooowww."
"I said sorry!"
Alpine jumps down, and comes over and starts rubbing against Bucky's ankles. He reaches down to scratch behind her ears. She purrs. He thinks he is forgiven.