"You're gonna have to let yourself get captured."
"Yeah. Best way to get intel."
"You gonna stop repeating me?"
"Steve, for fuck's sake, what is up with you today?"
"I don't know, Nat. I'm feelin' a little funny."
Earlier that day
“What’s the plan here, Cap?”
Tony’s questioning is about to drive Steve nuts. He’s asked the plan about fifteen times already, and Steve’s told him the same damn thing all fifteen times.
“Whoa, whoa, easy there, Capsicle. Jeez, didn’t know you were so sensitive. Or maybe I did.”
Whoops, did he say all of that out loud?
“Look, I’m havin’ a bad day, okay?”
He and Bucky had gotten into a fight that morning, about Bucky’s suitability for this particular operation, given that Hydra might have to be directly infiltrated. Spy, Bucky is not, and Asset, he could still be. But of course, Bucky had to get an attitude and insist that he come along. And he’s in the corner of the Quinjet now, glaring daggers at Steve. Still!
Man, no one knows how to hold a grudge like Bucky Barnes.
“You good to lead the team?” Nat asks.
“I’m a professional, Natasha, and you’ve heard the man. Like a broken record.”
“Get to it, then,” Bucky snipes, and goddammit Bucky, put on your big boy panties and deal with it. You won the argument, for fuck’s sake.
“Alright, teams, you know what to do.”
Tony leads his group to one side of the compound while Steve leads his team to the other. Natasha, ever helpful, stays between Bucky and him, keeping the peace. Somehow she knows something is going on, like she’s some sort of oracle. Steve envies her; if he had any clue about how Bucky’s brain works, maybe there wouldn’t be this tension between them.
He longs for tension of another kind, but that’s just a fairytale saved for his alone time. Bucky bending him over the desk, Bucky feeding him from his hands, Bucky fucking his face…
“Uh, Rogers? Why are you red?”
“I’m not red!” he says indignantly.
“Yeah, you are.”
No fair, Nat. Stop reading my mind!
She just laughs at him.
But everyone does their jobs swimmingly. That is, until Steve somehow gets caught in a trap, something that even Natasha managed to miss, and gets sprayed with vapor that smells like cat’s piss and tastes even worse.
They manage to get him out of the trap, a small closed-off room on the top floor of this godforsaken building, before too much harm can be done. But they’re up high, too high, and have lost contact with Tony. And they need information.
The best idea is for Steve to allow himself to get captured, like they knew it might come to. The real reason he and Bucky had gotten into an argument that morning. Steve, captured by Hydra?
Oh, Bucky glares daggers.
Steve thinks he’s ready to go, but... he’s kinda not feelin’ so hot.
They’ve got him at a table. The Three Stooges, he calls them, because they’re stupid. If this is the best Hydra’s got to offer, they need a better advertising program.
Steve tries to think about what he needs to say to get these guys to give away some information, but it’s hard. Between Three Stooges jokes and his curiously excited penis, nothing seems to be coming out. There was supposed to be some - what, teasing? Misdirection? Something.
Well, he’s feelin’ awfully damn teased right now, thank you very much, stuck in these ropes and this interrogation chair that’s too hard on his bottom and makin’ him think of other kinds of wood. Wooden paddles as well as other innuendos.
Steve, stop it. Be a professional.
Yeah, there’s nothing professional here. Nothing to see. Move on.
“Alright, wise ass,” the first Stooge - Larry, Steve decides, based upon no evidence whatsoever - he doesn’t even know what fuckin’ Larry looks like - Larry asks him.
“Only thing comes outta my ass is shit and farts, Larry. So I dunno what you’re talking about.”
Steve’s speech is slurred and he’s laughing like a loon every chance he gets. Natasha’s probably horrified, probably thinkin’ she should’ve put a comm link in his ear so she could coach him through this.
Too late now, he thinks, and giggles again.
Larry stares at him like he’s lost his fucking mind, and maybe he has. But it’s fun, so who the fuck cares?
Then Larry shrugs and sits down across the table from him. He looks like a flamingo, sort of, tall and weird, just not pink. Well, maybe a little pink, but leaning toward albino. Jesus, the guy is white.
But albinos are pink too, right?
“So I’ve got some information here, Mr. Rogers-”
“Captain Rogers. Technically. I mean, I am a mister, yes, but Mr. Captain Rogers sounds a little silly, don’t you think?”
“Anyway,” Larry says, looking to Curly and Moe in confusion, “I’ve got some intel here says you know where the Winter Soldier is. We’re gonna need that info.”
Steve’s dick immediately takes interest in the words Winter Soldier , like the good little Stevie that he is.
“Ooh,” Steve says, drawing another one of those confused looks from Larry.
“I need more information, Captain. Now.”
Steve feels an urge to tell this guy the truth, that Bucky’s just a few floors away and watching this shitshow, but that’s overshadowed by other urges. Like the inexplicable urge to explain just how awesome Bucky is.
“I need to know what you know, Captain Rogers, or you’re gonna get more than you bargained for.”
That’s hilarious, since Steve could just pop right out of these ropes like they’re toys. He tells them so.
“So why don’t you, if you’re not bluffin’?” the one named Moe says. Well, Steve thinks he’s Moe. He’s definitely not a Curly… though the other isn’t, either.
Hmm. No Curlies. So it’s Moe One and Moe Two.
Moe One doesn’t believe him.
“‘Cuz it’s fun,” Steve answers him with a smile.
“I need the truth, Captain Rogers. Let me into that tiny little brain of yours.”
Moe One and Moe Two chuckle in the background. Steve grins.
“Okay! You know what I thought of this morning? God, how great Bucky looks in that black uniform. And his dick, yumm!”
They eye each other.
“Look, what do you want here, specifically?” Moe One asks Larry, but Steve just talks right over him. Man does he feel awesome .
Steve continues. “Like, I don’t peek at anyone in the shower, I mean nobody does that, right? Not even us queers.” Moe Two’s eyes widen. “Anyway, I’ve seen Bucky naked about a million times, and he’s just as beautiful now as he was then. More beautiful, for what he’s been through.”
Steve looks to the ceiling dreamily. “His grace, the easy way he walks, like he’s stalking you, cat-like, kind of? I dunno, somethin’. I can’t explain it, you know? He’s just… my Bucky. And I love ‘im.”
Larry puts his head in his hands, but Moe Two apparently feels the need to question Steve’s heartfelt explanation. But not in a skeptical way, more of a ‘no shit?’ kind of way.
“Wait, so you are in love with Bucky Barnes? The Winter Soldier himself? You love the Winter Soldier ?”
Larry opens his mouth in irritation, probably to shut Moe Two the fuck up, but Steve gets defensive before he can.
“I’ll have you know he’s the best guy I’ve ever met! Why wouldn’t I love him? Why don’t you love him? Huh?”
None of them have a good answer.
“That’s what I thought,” Steve says smugly.
Larry turns to Moe One. “Thought this guy was supposed to answer my questions.”
“I did answer your question!” Steve exclaims. “You asked what I wanted, and I said Bucky and his beautiful dick. I've been cooperating, don't be mean.” He pouts.
“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with Captain America?” Moe Two asks.
“I dunno man, you broke him!”
“I did no such thing! Blame Jimmy!”
“His name is Moe One!” Steve yells.
They ignore him, because who wouldn’t at this point?
“Well, it technically worked. He’s telling the truth, ain’t he?”
Larry makes a face. “Not the truth I wanna know.”
Moe Two, though, he seems like he likes it. Steve winks at him.
Just then, the ceiling panel to the right of Steve falls inward. Bucky drops down with Nat by his side, and the two of them knock out Larry, Moe One, and Moe Two within seconds. Nat stares at Steve disapprovingly, but Bucky undoes Steve’s bonds and lifts him out of the chair to kiss him, deep and filthy, tongue and all. Steve moans into it, happy as a clam and high as fuck.
“You’re never livin’ this down, punk,” Bucky says when he lets him down.
“I don’t even care,” he replies happily.
Nat rolls her eyes and mutters “Idiots.”