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capkink2014-02-11 08:29 pm
capkinkmod) wrote in capkink2014-02-11 08:29 pm
Prompt Post 1
Remember to title your comments, use appropriate warnings (or "choose not to warn"), and be civil. Embeds are not allowed.
At least one of the characters in your prompt must have been in Captain America: The First Avenger or Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
As of May 3, 2014, the spoiler policy is no longer in effect.
Update, April 22, 2014:
For fills, please use the following format:
Fill: Title
Including the pairing, warnings/CNTW, and any other information after the fill and title in the subject line or in the first line of the comment.
Links:
Page A Mod
Fills
Discussion
Delicious Archive
At least one of the characters in your prompt must have been in Captain America: The First Avenger or Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
As of May 3, 2014, the spoiler policy is no longer in effect.
Update, April 22, 2014:
For fills, please use the following format:
Fill: Title
Including the pairing, warnings/CNTW, and any other information after the fill and title in the subject line or in the first line of the comment.
Links:
Page A Mod
Fills
Discussion
Delicious Archive
Fill: And I Am Always with You, Part 27
"Bucky, do you think you can stand up?" Sam asks once Stark has turned off the scanning wand and declared the Soldier's body free of any GPS microchips. He is not sure whether or not it is surprising that HYDRA did not implant a tracker into him. But where else would he ever have gone but back to them?
He glances at the wire and tubes connected to his body, indicates them.
Sam makes a soft "oh" sound, and then he is on the Soldier's right, asking permission to touch him and detach the lines. Stark is doing the same with the wire monitoring his heart, and the Soldier doesn't understand why they keep asking but nods regardless. Stark's hand slips under the collar of the shirt, returning with the wire and electrode, and the heart rate monitor goes silent. They leave the IV port in his arm but disconnect the tubing.
He can stand without assistance, but they help him up anyway. The Soldier cannot decide if they think him incompetent or if they are trying to imprint him onto them to better follow their orders. He doesn't ask where he is being led, trailing after them while Stark is examining the scans on the tablet, theorizing aloud about power sources.
Their end destination is a kitchen, and the Soldier is at a loss as to why. Are orders given in kitchens? He can't remember. The orders for his last mission weren't. But his new handlers don't seem to have much in common with HYDRA, and missions will be fulfilled regardless of how the orders are received. They seat him at the table, and instead of orders or briefing, he faces another question.
"What's your favorite kind of soup?" Sam asks.
There is no part of that question that the Soldier can comprehend. He doesn't have favorites beyond a preferred rifle. And the rifle is only due to its efficiency. He has never had soup. He stares blankly, unable to answer, and awaits a reprimand.
"Need a list?" Tony asks. "There's cans of basically everything under the sun—Pepper doesn't trust my cooking based entirely on one incident, which, I might add, was a high stress situation and pretty ungrateful on her part—but there's anything you could possibly want, from artichoke to zuppa toscana. That's a thing, right, zuppa toscana? I didn't just make that up?"
The Soldier tilts his head and considers making the "bird" gesture from before.
"Bucky?" Sam prompts after a stretch of silence.
"I don't…have a favorite?"
"Okay." He doesn't move within striking distance. "Then you can just take a look at what there is and choose one, okay?"
"Choose one for what?" The Soldier should not have to ask questions, should know what is wanted of him immediately, but if he doesn't ask now and he chooses incorrectly, he thinks things will be worse.
Sam and Stark's eyes meet and they say something without speaking aloud. The Soldier can't interpret it. "To eat," Sam says, and there is a flutter in the Soldier's stomach. He doesn't know how. If they order him to, the possibility of failure is high.
"I don't eat," he says.
"And not eating is why you were passed out for two days in my guest room." Stark's voice is soft. "One does not live on brooding Soviet good looks alone, you know."
The Soldier shakes his head. How can these people have repaired and scanned his body and still be so clueless as to the way that it operates? "I don't eat ever," he tries again. "I don't need to."
The periods of silence in this room are not restful and calming like the silence of the cryo-tank. There is an overwhelming sense of wrongness pressing down on him and he can tell from the way they regard him that he's done something bad, but he cannot determine what it is. He thinks with HYDRA, he would at least know why he had angered his handlers.
"Bucky, you have to eat to survive," Sam says, taking a seat beside him. There is hardness in his face now, his expression almost pained. "That's how your body operates. If you don't eat, you don't have the energy or nutrients to function. And your metabolism is much faster than the average person's, so you need to eat more often."
Stark snaps his fingers before the Soldier can answer. "Not to mention your arm. That's what powers it: caloric intake. It shut down because you were starving. Worked it out, got it, totally able to replicate it. Sometimes I stun myself."
The look Sam gives him is not one the Soldier can interpret, and Stark clears his throat.
"Or we could go back to the horrific dehumanization," he says. "That's probably more relevant."
The Soldier taps his metal fingers against the IV port. "I operate on this. I always have."
"Not always." Sam speaks with more certainty than the Soldier feels is warranted, given that the Soldier is over twice Sam's age. "HYDRA, they didn't let you eat because they didn't want you to be able to take care of yourself. So they fed you through an IV."
"But that works." The Soldier's stomach is no longer paining him and his body does not feel on the verge of collapse. It seems much simpler and more efficient to continue to survive that way.
"It's not how your body's meant to function," Stark says. "It might work, but it isn't ideal. And considering the sheer intake you need, you'd either have to spend days hooked to a line, or they were overdosing you on multivitamins and just counting on your body to sort it out."
The Soldier thinks the second option is more likely. He also sees no reason to change a system that is clearly working.
"Here." Sam's hands are working at a phone, possibly texting. "Just try soup, okay? I'll pick one out for you so you don't have to worry about it. You'll like it, I promise."
"I don't know how to eat." He doesn't feel broken in admitting it because it's never been a necessary process.
"Soup's easy. It's just like drinking." Sam's phone vibrates and he glances at the screen. "Do you have potato, Tony?"
"Yeah, let me make sure it's pureed."
Three minutes later and there is a bowl of soup sitting in front of the Soldier. It is hot, but not enough that it can burn. His right hand lifts a spoonful, lets it drop back into the bowl. It is thicker than water. Theoretically, it should slide down the same way.
He can feel eyes on him and places the next spoonful into his mouth, tilting his head slightly back to prevent anything slipping back out of his lips.
The Soldier is not prepared for the taste.
The only other taste he knows is that of sugar—sweet?—and the soup is nothing like sugar. He doesn't have the words to describe the flavor, not in English or in Russian. It is warm and heavy but not in a sickening way and it is good and for a minute he forgets to swallow because he's busy savoring the sensation.
Two spoonfuls later, the Soldier decides that spoons are not sufficient and picks up the bowl as if it is a glass, drinking that way.
"It's nice that someone finally appreciates my cooking," Stark says behind him.
Sam either coughs or laughs. "You transferred it from a can to a microwave."
"It counts."
The Soldier sets the bowl gently back onto the tabletop, wiping his mouth. He is smiling again, for the second time in one day. That's never happened before and he's beginning to think this may be the best day of his life. "May I have another?"
"You can have anything you want, Bucky. You're not a tool anymore. You have free will."
The words sound impossible but beautiful. He can't fathom them, but in this instant he is too content to care.
Re: Fill: And I Am Always with You, Part 27
(Anonymous) 2014-05-23 05:01 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: And I Am Always with You, Part 27
Re: Fill: And I Am Always with You, Part 27
(Anonymous) 2014-05-24 03:18 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: And I Am Always with You, Part 27