#reference to noncon

It's so strange for Collins to remember what he was like before that night he brought Quinn to his quarters. He feels like a completely different man and it shreds his heart to realize how much he looked away.

But back then, Collins took great care in avoiding Quinn whenever it was humanly possible. He didn't see him much at all, even though he heard about Quinn and the things that had been done to him every time he was with the crew. Quinn was, quite literally, the main source of entertainment for most of them so the conversation constantly and inevitably turned to Quinn quite quickly.

But here's a few that really stick with him ...

There was, of course, that glimpse of Quinn being strung up in the mess hall surrounded by almost all the crew. That one will haunt him until his dying day. Sometimes he thinks it would have been better to have seen what actually happened because the images his mind fills in during his nightmares has to be worse... but maybe not. Probably not.

Collins would willingly gouge his eyes out if it allowed him to forget that particular memory. But he has no right to forget, he knows better than that.

But there are two others that really stick with him.

The first was at the airlock with Murphy and the rest of the mutineers. Collins was barely looking at Quinn then. He kept his eyes dutifully ahead, for the most part, and tried to stay professionally detached. But the horrific sound Quinn made, when Collins lifted the lever that opened the airlock 🥺 that he'll never forget. Quinn wailed. As hands tore off his clothes and dragged him away, he was screaming and sobbing, but not for himself. The agony, the pain, the loss, in that sound...

He shakes his head hard whenever he thinks of it. Almost as if he could shake the memory of that horrific sound out of his mind.

He still hears its echoes sometimes though, when Quinn is having a nightmare. He can't explain it except to say the quality of the moans change, the way he cries out. He knows he's dreaming about that moment instead of all the rest Quinn endured.

Quinn clings to him in his sleep, quietly crying for the lives of his friends, friends that Collins himself executed, that he murdered. Collins can barely stand the guilt that wraps itself around his throat, so torn between wanting desperately to be the source of comfort Quinn needs in that moment and a deep, aching need to tear himself away from the man he loves because he simply has no right to be touching him. The guilt Collins carries is very very heavy. He thinks that too, is right. It should be heavy.

The second one, it was a breif moment, a passing in the hall.

He remembers the feeling that washed over him when he turned the corner and saw Quinn from down the hall. Jackson had him by the arm, his hands bound in front of him, and Quinn looked like hell. Collins hadn't seen him for at least a week at this point and what he saw made his steps falter. Quinn's entire left side of his face was covered in bruises, deep purple and greens, some old, some new. His torso was battered and his thighs...

Collins swallowed down bile as he got closer.

He barely looked like Quinn anymore.

Jackson nodded in acknowledgement to Collins as they approached, Collins nodded back, but just as they were about to pass, Quinn stumbled. It seemed his legs simply gave out on him. Collins felt his body twitch, an instinct to help someone so hurt, but he swallowed it down when Jackson quickly caught Quinn by the collar before his knees even hit the ground, and Quinn choked quietly as he allowed himself to be dragged back to his feet.

Quinn's eyes flashed to Collins', nothing but a fraction of a second before Jackson shoved him forward. He stumbled again and fell, landing hard on his shoulder. He was so weak. Jackson laughed. He opened the door to Quinn's right, the door to Jackson's quarters, and lifted the man up by his arms before shoving him into the room. The door shut behind them and Collins couldn't move.

The entire scene was horrific. But what stuck with him was the look in Quinn's eyes when he looked at Collins.

There was so much emotion swimming in his eyes, fear, exhaustion, anger, shame, acceptance, but it was what wasn't there that slapped Collins right in the face.

Quinn wasn't looking at him for help.

Not even a little bit.

And he wasn't there to help. Despite everything in his body and mind and soul telling him this was wrong. He would obey orders and walk by, like he always did.

And Quinn knew that.

If anything, Collins was just one tormentor among many in Quinn's mind that day. Certainly not a savior.

And that truth breaks Collins' heart every damn day. Because he wasn't there. He didn't help him. Quinn was left to fight and survive on his own.

It made him sick then and even more so now.

For so long, far too long, he was just as bad as the rest of them. Why would Quinn ever look to Collins for help? How could he?

“So what happens next?” Wanda’s concerned voice carried through Y/n’s headphones.

As soon as Y/n had texted her two friends about her decision, the group FaceTime rang on her phone.

“There’s some office that deals just with reporting.”

“God, it happens so fucking often they have an entire office dedicated to this shit,” Nat seethed.

“Right? Uggghhh,” Wanda agreed.

“So yeah, I have to go through them. But first I have an appointment with SVR on Tuesday--”

“SVR?” Nat interjected.

“Yeah, it’s the office for, uh…” Y/n struggled to remember the meaning of the acronym Dr. Cho had explained that morning. “...Sexual Violence… Reporting? Response? I forget. But that’s who’s going to help me through the reporting process.”

“Fuck, you must be so nervous.”

“Nat! Jesus!” Wanda reprimanded her friend’s bluntness.

Y/n chuckled at her two friends. “No, no it’s fine. I mean I should be. But... I’m kinda just numb to it? Like actually almost feeling good? It’s sort of scary,” she admitted with a low voice, turning her gaze away from the screen.

“Oh, hun, that makes perfect sense,” Wanda consoled. “Your body can only handle so much. It’s ok to just feel neutral for a bit. You probably need the break.”

“She’s right. I remember when that dude assaulted me in the mall. I didn’t really have any feelings about it, until I was fooling around with Clint one night and then boom! So I get it.”

“Oh my gosh, I forgot about that! And Clint! That was during first year, right? Whatever happened to him?

“Yup. He graduated last year. I think he lives on a farm now. Wife and two kids.”

“Wow, never would have guessed it,” Wanda said, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, me neither. He was one of the good ones,” Nat reminisced with a smile.

The three friends hummed in agreement.

“Speaking of good ones, where’s Barnes?”

“I told him I needed a nap after the appointment. Don’t worry, he made sure I got in safely. Said you’d kick his ass if he didn’t,” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Damn straight,” Nat confirmed.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to come home early? We could come back in time for your appointment on Tuesday. There’s a train every two hours.”

Y/n sighed, seriously considering her friend’s offer.

“I… let me think about it? Like right now I feel fine about it. But I feel like it changes from one hour to the next.”

“No pressure, Y/n. Seriously,” Nat added. “Anyways, we’ve seen our families now. No one is off this week so we’d just be chilling in town doing nothing.”

“Whatever,” Y/n dismissed her friend’s justification. “You both deserve the break. Cable TV, someone else buying groceries. That’s what going home for reading break is for.”

“Well you’re our family too, babe. And if you need us then we’ll come back. It’s as simple as that.”

Y/n’s cheeks were burning and her stomach filled with warmth. “Thank you, both, so much. I’m so fucking lucky to have you.”

“We’re lucky to have each other,” Wanda returned.

Y/n yawned suddenly.

“K, I think I need to lie down. This morning really took it out of me.”

“Yup, go rest. We love you,” the two chimed in unison.

“Love you too.”

The three blew kisses to each other before ending the chat.

-----

Y/n blinked, the afternoon glow of autumn sunshine warming the wall of her bedroom. A quick glance at her phone revealed she had passed out for just over three hours.

Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she unlocked her phone with the other and opened her chat.

Y/n: i’m up. what are you doing tonight?

Bucky: how’d you sleep? And whatever you want, doll

Y/n: like a log. i want to get drunk

She watched the three dots appear and disappear several times before a response came in.

Bucky: i can be your chaperone

Y/n: noooo lets get drunk together

Bucky: Nat made me swear on my life to take care of you while they were gone.

Y/n: you can still take care of me if we drink, it’ll just be sloppier lol

Bucky: someone’s feeling impetuous

Y/n: English major pulling out the big words

Bucky sent through a series of eye roll gifs, before offering a solid response.

Bucky: fine. So where is this debauchery taking place?

Y/n: yours? I need a change of scenery.

Bucky: cool. We’ve got beer in the fridge and some other left over booze I think. Come over whenever.

Y/n: k dinner’s on me then. We could order pizza?

Bucky: sounds great.

Y/n: Awesome. Gonna shower then head over. See you in a bit.

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes as his hand flopped down onto the couch, still gripping his phone. His stomach flipped nervously at the sudden one-eighty in Y/n’s demeanor. Something didn’t feel right about her plan. But he had vowed to follow her lead, so that’s what he was doing.

He resolved to simply take it easy on the drinks. He would make sure she didn’t feel like she was drinking alone, but he wouldn’t get carried away. Nat and Wanda had made him swear he would look out for their friend and he had no intension of seeing the two redheads in protective mode—not against himself, at least.

“What have you gotten yourself into, James?” he huffed out loud. Another sigh, and he was up off the couch to tidy up for the impending evening.

-----

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Bucky exlaimed, his ears turning crimson and a blush surfacing on his cheeks.

Y/n let out a full belly laugh. She was four beers in and definitely feeling it. Precisely what she had wanted.

“You don’t have to answer, Barnes, jeez. But you’re the one that picked truth. If you don’t answer then you have to drink.”

Bucky exhaled loudly, making sure she saw his discomfort. Though he kept the small grin on his face.

“Fine. But after this we take a break and order pizza.” It wasn’t lost on him that Y/n had lapped him twice in her alcohol consumption during the two hours she’d been there.

“Deal. Now spill. Have you ever kissed any of your guy friends. And if not, what guy would you kiss?”

“I… well, I’ve actually kissed both Sam and Steve, if you must know,” he admitted, but with his chin held high. “You know guys like to have fun too sometimes.”

“Woooow… that’s… fucking hot.” Y/n burst into laughter again at her own admission.

“Well I’m glad you think so, doll,” Bucky said with a smile, genuinely relieved. He’d always been attracted to people, not gender. It was a relief to know Y/n wasn’t weirded out by it.

“I’ve made out with Nat, and once all three of us did a topless photoshoot together. It was really tender and beautiful and—” suddenly Y/n smacked her hand to cover her mouth, shocked at her openness. “Fuck. I think pizza’s a good idea,” she muttered.

“‘S’all good” Bucky chuckled, “I was definitely going to ask you the same next time you picked truth, so you just beat me to it.” He hesitated before adding with a lowered voice, “And if it’s any consolation, I think that’s hot, so…”

Y/n felt heat rise to her cheeks as her eyebrows shot up at his level-up flirtation.

“Shit. Sorry, that’s super fucking creepy and insensitive given everything that you’re—”

“No! Jesus! Bucky, it’s fine. Just...” Y/n felt the excited heat be overtaken by familiar all-devouring flames. The ones that raged at all hours of the day, keeping her awake at night. The ones she’d been trying to douse with alcohol.

She stood up suddenly, but stumbled. Bucky’s arms reached out instinctively, catching her before she toppled into the coffee table.

“Whoa, sweetheart. You good?”

“Yeah, just, s-stood up too fast,” Y/n slurred. “Gonna go pee.”

Bucky shook his head as she disappeared down the hall.

At himself, at her, at the situation. How was he supposed to do this? How could he take care of someone who was going through what Y/n was going through, while he was simultaneously falling for. Scratch that, someone he’d fallen for already. Years ago. From that first time she had asked him if the seat beside him was taken during their Intro to Literature and Composition course in first year. Y/n occupied the empty spaces in Bucky’s mind and he had swore to himself he would come clean in their final year. Until that fucking Arts party.

Bucky shook his head as if to clear away the memory of that night, followed by actually clearing the empty bottles from the coffee table. Placing them next to the sink, he then filled two water glasses before ordering two large pizzas. He could never order pizza and not plan for left overs.

Just as the order was complete he heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Y/n padding into the kitchen. She had a determined look on her face that Bucky couldn’t quite read. Walking with purpose towards him, she only stopped once she had him backed against the counter.

Oh. That was what the look was.

“Y/n, I, uh…”

“Shhhh, no talking,” she hushed, placing a finger on his lips. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time and I think you have too so… fuck, here we go.”

All of a sudden her arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand lacing through his thick chesnut hair, the other hand pressed between his shoulder blades. Here finger nails softly trailed over his t-shirt as she closed her eyes and pushed her lips into his.

For an instant, time stopped in the warm glow of the dorm kitchen. There were no mid-terms. No final papers. No GPA to maintain. No worried friends. No appointments. No Brock Rumlow. No Quentin Beck.

Only Bucky and Y/n, heat radiating between their chests as they pressed into each other. Bucky’s prosthesis pulling Y/n closer by the small of her back as his flesh hand tenderly cupped the side of her head. Their lips professing years of unspoken desires. Teeth clashing as their tongues dared to connect.

Eternity was cut short. A sudden flash of saliva and beer breath flooded Y/n’s mind.

Bucky, she was with Bucky. She clenched her fingers around his hair.

Forceful hands on her chest and pants.

No, she wasn’t there in that room. She was with Bucky, she reminded herself again. She pressed her lips harder into his.

Told you we’d see you around.

Fuck.

Bucky sensed the shift just as Y/n pulled away from their kiss. Both of them were heaving, Y/n gasping for air as Bucky searched her eyes for confirmation that she was ok, hand still cupping her face as he rubbed a thumb across her cheek.

Until he saw what it was. It was written in the terror hidden just behind her glassy gaze reflecting back at him.

He couldn’t find the right words. He didn’t want to make it worse. Slowly he tilted his head to press his lips into her forehead. She kept heaving until suddenly she was leaning over the sink, retching.

“Shit, Y/n. ‘S okay, sweetheart, you’re ok,” he comforted, rubbing circles into her upper back.

She was sick a few more times before finally straitening herself, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Tears tracks were streaming down her face, whether it was from being sick or because she was crying, neither could say.

“I’m so s—”

“Nope, we’re not doing that. Not gonna let you appologize,” Bucky said with a firm tenderness. “Want some water?”

She nodded, accepting the filled water glass Bucky handed her.

“Thank you,” she managed out between gulps.

“You good? Or you think you’ll need to again?” Bucky motioned towards the sink with his eyes.

“Nope, think I’m good now,” Y/n replied quietly, unable to meet his gaze.

Bucky immediately started rinsing out the sink while Y/n finished her water, finishing as she set the glass down on the counter with a shaky hand.

“Let’s go sit on the couch then and wait for the pizza. Unless you want to go home, or…”

Y/n continued to stare at the linoleum tiles as Bucky trailed off. She was fully trembling now, teeth chattering as she wrapped her arms around her waist.

“You don’t have to do this,” she let out, barely above a whisper. “I’m so fucked up right now. I’m not your responsibility. It’s ok if you want me to go.”

Bucky had lost count how many times his heart had shattered this past week, so this instance was simply added to the undetermined tally.

He brought his hand to her cheek once more, fingers begging her softly to look at him. After a pregnant pause, she obliged.

“Sweetheart. I need you to listen to me right now. You hearing me?”

Y/n nodded.

“You are not a burden. You are not a problem. You are the most charming, intelligent, and sweetest person I’ve met on this campus—no, fuck that, ever—and I will never stop wanting to take care of you. So if you want to leave, I understand. But please don’t leave because you think I don’t want you to stay.” He paused, scanning her face to make sure she was still with him. The resurfacing of tears at the corner of her eyes confirmed that she was. “If it were up to me, you’d never leave.”

He then pressed his lips into her forehead again. It was all he could think of to show how much he meant every word.

Y/n’s chest began to heave again as sobs echoed through her ribcage, stuttering her shoulders and forcing her eyes shut. Bucky wrapped his arms around her and held her. Tight, strong, grounding. A few minutes passed before her tears subsided, allowing her to respond finally.

“Couch sounds nice,” she sniffed with a smile, breaking his embrace so she could rub her sweatshirt sleeve across her face.

Bucky chuckled at her wit. Even in the bleakest of moments, her light still found a way to break through.

He led her to the couch, guiding her to sit first. Then he grabbed the velvety throw blanket and draped it across her lap. Finally, he positioned himself beside her, his flesh hand clasping hers.

She immediately leaned into the gesture, wrapping her free arm around his torso and let herself fall into his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’ve cleaned up my barf twice in one week,” she groaned.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “And I’ll do it again if I have to.” He pulled her hand up to kiss the top.

“Aside from that, how about that kiss?” She asked, the sudden confidence brought out by how at ease Bucky made her feel.

“Best kiss I’ve ever had,” he muttered into her hand, lips still pressed to her knuckles. “I’ll do that again too if I have to,” he smirked, letting their threaded fingers drop back down to her lap.

“I’m sure that can be arranged. Though maybe after I’ve brushed my teeth? And eaten something.”

“Hmmm, sounds like a plan.”

Allowing a comfortable silence to fall, the two remained leaning into each other, hands still laced together. Until Bucky broke the peace.

“Y/n?” he asked quietly.

“Hmmm?”

“Did you, I mean, did I remind you of that night?”

It was Y/n’s turn to feel her heart shatter. She turned to look at Bucky in the eye. “Now I need you to hear me, k?”

Bucky nodded, grip tightening on her hand.

“You will never remind me of them. Never. Do you understand?”

Another nod, his grip still holding.

“I… I’m going to have to work on… that—” she sighed before continuing, “—but, no. You, James Buchanan Barnes, are nothing but sweetness and caring and pure good rolled up into an unbelievably attractive package so please do not lower yourself by even hinting that you could be in the same category as those two douchbags.”

A smile tiumphed over the concerned look Bucky’s face had been fighting.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told, but usually more in a you’re weird context,” she chuckled softly.

“Y/n. You have to know that if you’re never ready to go further, I don’t care. You’re the only one I’ve had eyes for, ever since first year. And if this is all you can ever give me, it will be enough. You are enough.”

Y/n blinked at him, stunned by the sincerity of his words. She could feel it radiating between them and it made her tremble all over again. Before she could process his words further, she flung her arms around him.

“Thank you, James,” she whispered into his chest.

“Always,” he whispered back, kissing the top of her head.

His phone buzzed, disrupting the moment.

“Pizza’s here,” he muttered softly.

“Hmmm, I feel like I could eat an entire one to myself.”

“Good thing I ordered two then,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Hot and a talented pizza orderer? I think I’ve landed my dream guy,” she chuckled.

“I’m all yours, doll.” He pressed a final peck into her head before reluctantly breaking their embrace to grab the delivery.

Bucky had definitely stopped falling. He had hit solid ground, hard, and he didn’t care if he ever got back up.

“What can I do?” Bucky asked, the worry making its way down from his furrowed brow and out through his mouth.

After waking to find the side of the bed she’d been sleeping on for the past two nights empty, Bucky traced Y/n to the couch burrowed tight under the plush throw blanket, staring off into space.

She couldn’t find the words to respond, because she hadn’t even registered his question. She was unmoving though her expression looked worn, like a stone statue that was lost and forgotten in an overgrown garden. Beautiful yet weathered by more storms than anyone should have faced.

The anxiety of the first appointment for the reporting process that morning made her rise well before the birds. She had left the warmth and comfort of sharing Bucky's bed to avoid disturbing him. It took no time before she had fallen down a rabbit hole of what ifs.

What if she had rushed into things with Bucky? What if she wasn’t ready to start anything with him? What if she would never be ready for a relationship? What if she couldn’t get over it? What if he was just helping her because he felt sorry for her? What if this whole fucked up situation became too much for him and he left? What if—

“Y/n, sweetheart, I can see you’re waging a war with yourself in there—” Bucky gently tapped a finger on her temple, partially to demonstrate his words, partially in hopes he might pull her out of her spiral, “—and whatever it is, I wanna help you win. So why don’t you try sharing one part with me and we can take it from there, yeah?”

With his touch succeeding at helping her register his presence, Y/n looked towards Bucky, eyes red-rimmed and wide, dark circles etched beneath them. Her knees were pulled in tight to her chest, arms wrapping around her shins. Her mouth opened and closed slowly as she searched for where to begin. A jumping off point that might help navigate her way out of the dark cavern she had lost herself in.

Finally a word, “I…”

Then another, “I’m scared…”

And another, “... that…”

Until they slowly trickled out, barely above a whisper, “... that this is too much for you… for me… that I’m using you… that …”

Y/n took several deep breaths before continuing to her final destination.

“... that I won’t be able to go through with this. That I won’t be able to handle the final decision.”

Bucky sighed long and slow, his chest aching with how much Y/n was being forced to carry.

“All of those fears make sense,” he validated, pausing before continuing. “Could I tell you what I think?”

Y/n nodded, turning her head to rest an ear on her knees that were still pulled in close.

“I can’t say whether or not this is too much for you. Though I’ll say how fucking strong you are and I’m in awe of how you’ve been handling all of this—”

“I wouldn’t call this handling it,” she chuckled.

“Ok, fair enough,” he appeased. “Then let me get to what I can speak to. This is not too much for me, Y/n. You are not too much for me. If you don’t want me around anymore, I'll understand and respect that. I can call Natasha and Wanda for you and they’ll be here in a few hours. Nat already texted me this morning just in case you needed them.”

Y/n sniffed as she laughed at her friends. Gosh, how did she get so fucking lucky?

“The thing is, I mean…” he stumbled a bit before finding his footing, “We’ve built a friendship over the past few years. And a really fucking shitty situation has brought us even closer. I’m just being here for my friend in the way that I think she needs. And her trust in me is an honour and a privilege that I will accept until she decides she doesn’t want to give it to me anymore.”

The rogue tears that had seeped into Y/n’s sweatpants were now pouring off of her cheeks and streams.

“Do you trust me, Y/n?” Bucky asked softly.

“Y-yes,” she stammered out, sniffing hard, unable to unlock her arms that were still holding her legs.

“Then trust me when I tell you that you can use me as long as you want. I’m not going anywhere unless you ask. ‘K?”

“'K,” she whispered back, a few stuttered sobs shaking her form as she tried to steady her breathing.

“Can I hug you?”

As soon as Bucky saw her head nod, he turned so his bad shoulder was against the back of the couch, one leg half folded in, the other draped over the edge. Then stretching his other arm out, he pulled balled-up Y/n into his chest with a tight hold, making sure she felt the sincerity of his words in his embrace.

When he sensed her breathing even out, he started up again.

“Now, about that last part. If you want to stop this process at any time, you stop it. You’re the one who gets to decide. If you’re not comfortable with anything, you just squeeze my hand twice and I’ll have you back here or to your place with ice cream and blankets and a Miyazaki marathon so fast you’ll think it was all just a bad dream.”

Y/n laughed at Bucky’s seriousness, as if what he was proposing was simply a fact of nature.

“Y-you’re not going to be able to go in there with me though.”

“The fuck I won’t. I mean, if you don’t want me in there, that’s one thing. But you’re not doing any of this process without me, Nat, or Wanda by your side, unless you say otherwise, doll. We’ve already all decided.”

“Oh you have, have you?” she replied, leaning further into Bucky’s chest. If only she could press hard enough she might dissolve into the warmth, the she would be safe for eternity.

“That’s right, doll. Can’t push us away that easily,” he assured, voice low and warm as he rested his chin on her head.

“You’re one of the good ones, James, you know that?”

“So people have said,” he replied, pressing his lips into her hair.

Her stomach fluttered at his delicate gesture, as if it housed a caged bird. The warmth his lips kindled melted all of the what if’s into oblivion. Y/n found herself back above ground, in the arms of this person who was slowly collecting pieces of her heart—asking for permission with each piece and tucking them away for safekeeping, terrified he might have to one day give them all back, yet completely committed to holding onto them for as long as she would allow.

Bucky was unlike any man she had ever met. Maybe she wasn’t ready to map out their entire future, let alone next week. But she wasn’t ready to walk away from him either. So she gave in, letting herself be held. Allowing herself the solace of being taken care of—for once—by someone as wholly good and genuine as James Buchanan Barnes.

—–

“We don’t have to do this, hun.” Wanda offered.

“She’s right. We can just stay in and have BFF night and watch cheesy romance movies and stuff our faces with snacks,” Nat added.

“No, no. It’s fine,” Y/n said, not sounding fully convinced. “It’s just a small get-together at a bar... with the entire swim team. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The two friends gave each other a worried look, and Wanda moved to sit next to Y/n unravelling on her bed.

“I need to do this. I have to be able to do this—”

“You don’t have to do anything, Y/n. It hasn’t even been that long and if you’re not up for outings yet, then I think everyone would understand.”

Nat always had a way of touching on exactly what Y/n was thinking. She’d never been able to hide any emotion from the redhead, not even when they were little.

“It’s just… I’m so embarrassed,” she finally admitted.

“Oh, hun, why?” Wanda reached out, rubbing her friend’s shoulder as they sat on her bed.

“I mean, you two having to offer statements was one thing. But having to involve Steve and Sam? They barely know me, they don’t owe me anything. I guess, I just—”

“I get it, but I’m going to stop you right there,” Wanda said, cutting her friend off before she could spiral. “They’re Bucky’s best friends, right?”

Y/n nodded at Wanda’s question.

“And they were there that night, right?”

Another nod.

“And if tables were reversed and you had witnessed something happen to one of them, wouldn’t you want to help them?”

“Of course!”

The two friends simply offered Y/n smiles, albeit tinged with smugness.

“You two are the worst sometimes, you know that?” Y/n groaned, tossing a cushion at Natasha playfully before throwing the other one at Wanda.

“But you love us, right?” Natasha said, wiggling her eyebrows as she threw the pillow back onto the bed.

“Always. So much.”

“Awwww, group hug!” Wanda yelled, sending the two redheads into a frenzied smothering of their friend.

“Okay! Enough! I can’t breathe!” Y/n screamed between fits of laughter.

“Fine, but only because we want to keep you around,” Natasha said, releasing her embrace.

“Let’s get ready. I don’t know what y’all have planned for tonight, but I’m keen on getting to know Steve a bit more,” Natasha admitted coolly.

“Good, ‘cause I was hoping to chat more with that Sam guy,” Wanda replied with a coy grin.

“Oh my fucking god, we’re going to become swim team hoes,” Y/n moaned, rolling her head back.

“Speak for yourself! Not all of us are lucky enough to find a Bucky. Genuinely nice guys that are as sexy and smart as those two are hard to find these days,” Nat defended.

“Facts,” Wanda and Y/n replied in unison.

And with that they started to prepare for Y/n’s first night out in over a month.

—–

The bar was one of two on campus, and definitely the more lowkey of the pair. It had once been an old faculty lounge, split on two levels with a main open tabled area in front of an aged oak bar. The original wood wainscoting and cedar-green paint covered the walls, housing black and white framed photographs honouring old white men that may or may not have done important things at one time or another. Overhead stretched a mezzanine with more tables, leading to a long corridor that provided access to a set of two rooms for private events as well as washrooms.

The swim team always had the mezzanine reserved for them the last Saturday of every month, and that’s where the three friends found the guys.

“Hey! You made it!” Bucky’s face lit up when he saw Y/n arrive at the top of the burgundy carpeted stairs, as if she was the only person in the bar. A heat flooded her cheeks as she glanced down at her legs, suddenly overcome with anxiety to be meeting the team for the first time.

What if they knew about that night? They must know. They must think she's just damaged goods using Bucky for—

Bucky was out of his chair and placing a grounding touch to the small of her back before she even had time to turn to Nat or Wanda for assurance, or to run away and never come back.

“Just breathe, doll, you’re doing great,” he whispered in her ear before gently nudging them forward. “Guys, this is Y/n and her friends Natasha and Wanda. Steve and Sam you already know, these other goofballs are Tony, Peter, Scott, and Thor.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Y/n offered with a shaky smile as she managed to find her voice again, the two redheads greeting everyone with smiles and waves.

As if they had been on the same wavelengths, Steve and Sam pulled up chairs for Natasha and Wanda while Y/n found her place next to Bucky. Beers were ordered and the conversation flowed freely and easily after that. Bucky always kept his flesh hand on Y/n, whether it was on her arm, her thigh, or clasped around her fingers. An assurance that he was there. A tether in case she needed it. It worked. Y/n was laughing and chiming into stories about Bucky’s teen years growing up with Steve and Sam as if it had always been this way. The three couples and the rest of the swim team, bantering like old friends.

“You ok?” Bucky asked quietly as Y/n pulled her hand from his suddenly.

“Yup,” she nodded with a smile, “just need to use the washroom,” she assured before placing a peck on his cheek.

“Awwwwww,” the rest of the team teased, Thor and Scott pounding their beer mugs on the table for an encore.

“Guys, jeez, knock it off!” Bucky fumed, ears burning crimson. “Sorry, doll, I try so hard but they’re still animals.”

Y/n just chuckled, finding the team’s encouragement endearing. “They’re fine, Buck, don’t worry. I’ll be right back,” and with that she pushed the heavy wooden chair out and made her way down the hall.

The corridor was long, with more unmarked doors than she was expecting. The first two were locked, but the third opened into one of the private rooms, a boisterous group inside. Y/n slammed the door shut before she could register any of the faces of the people who turned towards her. Good one, Y/n. Finally, the last door at the end opened to the private washroom and she flooded with relief.

After drying her hands, she unlocked the door to step back into the corridor. It took her brain what felt like an eternity to catch up to the large arms that wrapped around her from behind. One hand covered her mouth while the other held a lighter to her face. The flint clicked and the orange light nearly blinded her in the dimness of the hallway.

“Don’t you even think about making a sound,” the hot breath came from the right side of her face. She didn’t need to smell the same stale yeast from the party to recognize the voice.

“I’m lucky you stumbled into my little soirée,” Quentin hissed into her ear. “You’re going to listen to me, and then I’ll let you go. If you don’t withdraw your complaint against me I will make sure that you, your friends, and your one-armed boyfriend never find employment anywhere. I don’t think you realize how connected my family is. You think you can take me down with one fucking complaint, you’ve got another thing coming. Do you understand?”

Y/n wanted to nod but she couldn’t seem to reconnect her brain to her body.

“I said, do you fucking understand?” he seethed, spittle landing onto her cheek.

Somehow, Y/n moved her head.

The lighter dropped as Quentin shoved Y/n to the ground before disappearing back down the corridor. Y/n didn’t see if he went back into the room or if he left the bar completely. She couldn’t see anything. Only darkness as she laid face-first on the faded carpet. Her hands were burning from catching her fall, her chest burning from unshed screams that had frozen in her throat—just as her entire body froze the second she felt Quentin’s grip around her.

As a soft moan started to form on her lips, Bucky was suddenly kneeling at her side.

“Oh my god, sweetheart! What happened? You hurt?”

Y/n wanted to tell him, to say it all, but she couldn’t get a word out. Couldn’t get her limbs to move. It was as if her brain was still stuck in fawn mode, terrified of the consequences of one wrong move.

“Y/n, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand,” Bucky pleaded, sliding his palm under hers.

She squeezed.

“That’s so fucking good, doll. ‘K squeeze once for no, two for yes. Can you do that for me?”

Two squeezes.

“You’re doing so good. Are you hurt anywhere?”

One squeeze.

Bucky emitted an audible sigh of relief, followed by an “oh, thank god,” until his stomach sank at realizing what the alternative might be. “D-did someone do this to you?” He asked, his voice becoming hushed.

Two squeezes.

“Was it—”

Two squeezes.

Bucky felt his heart rate skyrocket and the veins in his forehead begin to throb.

“D-don’t leave m-me here,” Y/n croaked out suddenly, breaking Bucky away from the buildup of rage bubbling in his chest.

“Not going anywhere, doll. ‘Gonna stay right here,” he comforted, placing his prosthesis on her back to rub calming circles between her shoulder blades. Leaving the fury to simmer.

Y/n’s ears registered the sound of Bucky’s voice shouting for Nat and Wanda. When they arrived, the worried cries of her friends were also acknowledged by her brain. She heard the quick explanation Bucky gave them, that they needed to get her out of there. But the second Bucky tried to pull his hand away from hers, it was as if Y/n had suddenly been gifted superhuman strength in that one appendage and he couldn’t unlock his fingers.

“You’re going to have to get Steve and Sam for me. She won’t let go.”

They nodded and were back with the two friends in no time. A safe-ride was called. Someone brought water, but Y/n couldn’t drink it. It was like a terrible sequel to that first night, only this time she was sober but still couldn’t move.

Eyes squeezed shut, she held onto Bucky’s hand even as the boys lifted her so that he could carry her bridal style. Even when he held her in the back of the minivan. Even as he transported her into her shared dorm. Even when he sat her down on the couch after he’d given her the option of couch or bed, and she had meekly mumbled the former.

Y/n held onto Bucky’s hand as if letting go would mean drifting off into a certain abyss, never to find her way back to land.

The six of them sat in silence, Bucky’s prosthesis wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders. Holding her close, his flesh hand remained clasped to hers, pressed into where his heart was. He hoped she could feel his heartbeat and find comfort at steady pounding in his chest. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda shared pained glances, each terrified of being the one to break the quiet.

It took Y/n nearly half an hour, but the words finally tumbled out. Slowly at first, then rapid and ragged as they began getting chopped off by sobs as the shock wore off of what had just happened.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart, I should have gone with you. I’m so so sorry,” Bucky repeated, kissing her forehead.

“‘S not your fault,” she sniffed.

Bucky exhaled before responding. “I need to go to the bathroom, doll. Think you can let go for just a minute?”

Y/n chuckled, nodding before finally dropping his hand, stretching her fingers out as she finally registered the ache from holding the grip for so long.

Bucky shot a look at Natasha and Wanda before detaching himself from Y/n. The two friends understood and were by her side the instant he was off the couch.

Silence settled over the common area again, the weight of Y/n’s recount hanging in the air. Eating up the oxygen, taking up too much space. Until it was broken by a muffled scream coming from the bathroom.

***

As soon as Bucky had closed the door, he turned the tap on full and grabbed a towel hanging on the rack. Bundling it into a ball, he eased himself into the bathtub and tugged the shower curtain closed to create a refuge. Knees bent, back against the cold porcelain, he pushed his mouth into the thick terry cloth cotton. Something cracked inside of him. It was slow to start, but an agonizing wail seeped out from the deepest corners of his chest, reaching a deafening pitch as it surfaced. Bucky bawled into the towel until his voice was hoarse, his throat was burning, and his eyes had dried—the only proof of his meltdown was the salt tracks on his cheeks.

A knock on the bathroom door snapped him out of his episode.

“James, can I please come in?” Y/n’s voice barely made it through.

“Y-yeah,” he croaked out, sniffing and wiping his eyes.

Bucky heard her enter, closing the door softly.

“Oh, love,” she sighed as she pulled back the nylon jungle foliage print curtain before kneeling onto the shower mat.

“God, I’m sorry,” he started before she could say anything more. “This shouldn’t be about me. I should be strong for you and I just got so fucking angry and I—”

“Shhhh. Stop, please. I’m ok now. I mean, I’m not, but I realized he can’t actually hurt me. Not when I have you all around me.”

Y/n leaned over the cold white ledge of the bathtub to wrap her arms around Bucky before continuing. “You’re allowed to feel emotions, you know. Plus it makes me feel better knowing I’m not the only one who has meltdowns,” she smiled, breaking her hug to try and meet his gaze.

Bucky’s shoulders shook with laughter as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve before looking at her. “God, you’re something else.”

“So you’ve said,” she kept smiling, eyes sparkling.

“And I’ll keep telling you until you believe it.” Bucky took a few, controlled breaths. “I love you, Y/n. Truly. And you don’t need to say it back, I just need you to know that I’d do anything for—”

Bucky was cut off by Y/n’s lips crashing into his, soft and sweet yet full of urgency. Their teeth clashed and tongues twirled around each other as Bucky’s hand cupped the side of Y/n’s face and her hands clasped around his neck. Breathing each other’s air, soft moans elicited from both of their mouths, they finally broke the kiss before the blaze took over entirely.

Hands still wrapped around him, Y/n rested her forehead to Bucky’s as she searched the depths of his indigo eyes, pupils blown wide.

“I love you too,” she whispered softly, slowly, certain.

“That’s… that’s really fucking great,” he chuckled, shoulders dropping in relief.

In that moment, Bucky in the bathtub and Y/n on the bathmat, it didn’t matter what the outcome of the report was. It didn’t matter what happened to Brock Rumlow and Quentin Beck. A calm filled Y/n’s heart and a peace floated into her mind. She was going to be okay.

God, he wanted that man in every way, so damn badly.

And as much as he resented the hell out of Quinn for invading his dreams, he often let his mind roll over the images that his dreams conjured up in the morning.

He just- he loved the image of Quinn on his knees hands behind his back, all submissive and obedient at the Captain's feet. In his dreams, Quinn was always a willing plaything, eagerly spreading his legs or opening his mouth, so happy to have the privilege to be used by the Captain.

The reality of actually having Quinn was a very different experience-

Collins pressed a hand against his own chest, frowning at the ache that had settled in ever since he'd said yes to the Captain's offer.

He didn't want anything to do with this mess.

The mutiny was foolish. Well-intentioned, sure, but foolish nonetheless. Collins held no delusions about the nature of the man that led this crew. The Captain was cruel and cunning. He was a man that won wars and the old generals loved him for it. But they hadn't been at war for many years now and that only made men like the Captain even more unpredictable.

Rumor has it, the Captain was given a ship after being quietly asked to leave the service for reasons he could only imagine. He had served with many of the crew already on board when he was looking for a new captain, so he'd signed up without much thought. He swore his loyalty to his captain and the crew and felt like he had a home again. Most of those good people were dead now.

It disturbed him deeply that he must have been considered to be a true follower of the Captain instead of one that stood slightly apart. He'd often wondered what it was about him, why Murphy and the others didn't come to him before they pulled the trigger on this foolishness.

He would have helped.

Well, he would have at least told him that his plan wouldn't succeed. Collins was loyal to a fault. He knew that. Still, this was- he wasn't like that. He took no pleasure in this.

Just the thought alone turned his stomach, seeing Quinn today, like he was...

He huffed out a frustrated breath and stood, pacing in the small space.

He remembered Quinn, from before. The few occasions he'd had to speak with the communications officer were swift and practical. He remembered the man being intelligent and quick to think on his feet. He knew his job and the jobs of his superiors, tailoring his tasks in such a way that made their work easier, more efficient. He was an asset to the crew, until he became a threat.

Collins stopped pacing, looking down at the curled up form beneath the blanket, only a tuft of brown hair peeking out from underneath.

He clenched his hands into fists thinking about what he would see if he pulled that blanket back, the many bruises and abrasions that littered the man's body. He couldn't unsee them. The shape of large hands on his hips and arms, of fingers around his neck, deep abrasions on his wrists and ankles from however the others choose to restrain him while they took their own pleasure. He'd heard the stories.

He couldn't stop this. It wasn't his place.

Collins turned away from him, dragging his fingers up into his hair.

Quinn made his choice. He knew the risks. The consequences.

Well, maybe not this. He probably thought he would be sent out the airlock with the rest of them. This fate was- excessive, to say the least. The Captain had already taken this beyond anything anyone would call justice, and he wasn't done yet, not even close.

He'll break him. The Captain will break Quinn into pliant little pieces. He'll use him until there was nothing left for him to be entertained by. And only then, will Quinn find any peace.

He turned back to the bed, chewing absently on his lip.

Peace.

He could do that. He couldn't save Quinn, but he could give him some measure of peace at least. A warm bed, like tonight. A proper meal and a shower when he could. Clean clothes even.

He turned to root through his small closet. Nothing would fit him, not even close. Quinn was already on the slight side before weeks of meager meals, all lean muscle and just a hint of softness to his middle.

Collins shook his head hard, shaking the thoughts out of his mind.

He refused to allow himself to think of Quinn that way, not anymore. Not now.

He'll admit to seeing him in the workout room a time or two. He was often on the treadmill when Collins arrived and was still running without losing a single step by the time Collins finished his routine. He remembers watching him from the corner of his eye sometimes, with those small earbuds nestled in his ears, listening to music and occasionally mouthing the words. He seemed to genuinely love to run.

That tiny spark flickered in his chest for a quick moment as he looked over at Quinn before he very intentionally smothered it out until it was nothing but dying embers.

His heart broke for what this man had been reduced to.

A slave. Nothing but a toy to be played with and stuffed back into a cage.

Collins drew in a deep breath and pulled out a pair of sweatpants with a draw string. Maybe these would work?

He gently laid them at the foot of the bed, along with a too large t-shirt.

He groaned as he moved to sit on the floor, leaning his back against the bed. He was exhausted after his 12 hours shift, and then all this, but he didn't want Quinn to wake up in the night to find a strange man sleeping in the bed next to him. Collins knew he'd had much worse over the many weeks he'd been held captive by his fellow crew members.

Still.

He didn't want to frighten him.

He leaned his head back against the mattress and closed his eyes, resolving to help Quinn where he was able. It was the very least he could do.

–

He woke with a start, his head coming up off the mattress far too fast and his vision struggled to keep up with the abrupt change. Collins blinked a few times, remembering why he was still propped against the mattress, sitting on the floor.

He glanced up to the bed.

Still there. Obviously.

It looked as if Quinn hadn't moved an inch in the few hours they must have slept.

Still. Something had woken him.

Collins stifled a groan as his knees popped, standing up stiffly.

He stood quietly over the curled up form on the bed, watching Quinn's breathing carefully. In and out. Slow and steady.

His eyebrows drew down, a frown creasing his face.

Collins leaned forward and gently pulled the blanket down, revealing a flash of two wide open eyes before Quinn dropped his gaze. His breathing starting to speed up exponentially now that he knew Collins knew he was awake.

“Morning.”

Collins let the blanket drop back to where it was, covering all of Quinn's face again. He'd allow the man to choose whether or not he wanted to be awake yet.

He went about brewing some coffee on the small counter by the sink, pulling down two mugs. He paused, his hands hovering over the mugs. Sugar? He took his coffee black but maybe Quinn liked sugar in his, or cream.

He didn't have cream.

He turned back to the bed. Three fingers had pulled the blanket down just enough to reveal two tired brown eyes, watching him silently.

“You're fine,” Collins grunted out. Damn it. He tried to soften his tone.

“What I mean to say is there's no rush. My shift isn't for another hour. Um,” why did he feel like he was trying to speak around rocks, “Do you take cream? In your coffee I mean?”

He watched two eyebrows found each other in between his eyes before smoothing out again.

Collins pointed to the clothes on the foot of the bed.

“Feel free to put those on and, yeah, I'll be right back.”

Collins rushed out of the room and closed the door, huffing out a long breath before heading to the mess hall.

–

10 minutes later and Collins had frozen with his fist paused an inch from the door. The door to his own quarters. Should he knock?

He made a sound deep in his throat that sounded like a growl. This was ridiculous.

He knocked lightly but didn't wait for an answer, opening the door and coming inside, his eyes immediately falling on Quinn.

Quinn was sitting back against the headboards with his knees up and his arms curled tight around himself. He was practically swimming the too big clothing but he looked more like himself at least. With the exception of the collar sitting at the base of his throat.

Collins lifted the tray he had in his hands.

“Eat whatever you like,” he placed the tray on the bed within reach and pointed to the coffee maker that was sputtering away, “Cream or sugar in your coffee?”

Quinn blinked silently but then nodded once.

Collins turned to get the coffee and smiled, making a mental note to keep cream in the small refrigerator under the counter, his shoulders starting to relax.

He sat at the table, Quinn still perched on the bed, and watched him take small, careful bites out of a bagel. He had to bury a smile every time Quinn took a sip of coffee, his eyes fluttering closed at the taste.

They sat in somewhat companionable silence. Collins honestly didn't know what to say and Quinn hadn't breathed a word.

He actually startled when suddenly, “Thank you,” Quinn breathed out on a whisper between bites.

Collins tilted his head down in a brief nod, “You're welcome, Quinn.”

Quinn's eyes flicked up sharply, meeting his own, before dropping back down again.

They walked back to below deck together, down the dark hall and through the heavy door. The room was dark save for the low blue light that ran along the floor of every wall on the ship. Collins hadn't been down here since the mutiny. He didn't know what to expect.

Quinn walked straight to the small cage, bolted to the floor in the center of the room. He never looked up or tried to shy away as he removed the shirt, and then the pants to Collins' surprise. He folded them neatly and turned towards Collins who had frozen in place.

“They wont let me keep these,” he said, placing the clothes in his hands, his eyes boldly meeting Collins' now, as if there was a measure of confidence necessary to strip naked in front of a man who, not 8 hours ago, saw him spread wide for all to see, “I don't know why you... just, thank you.”

With that, he turned and crawled gingerly into the cage. Collins clenched his jaw shut tight as he watched Quinn maneuver his body very carefully. He realized that the floor to the cage was made out of the grates they lay over the ramps in the winter. The ones with the teeth that grip the bottoms of your boots to keep you from slipping.

This was a torture in its own right; and explained the marks dug into his hips and shoulders that never seemed to quite fade.

He watched Quinn thread his fingers through the bars and close the door himself.

“You'll have to lock it.”

“Right,” Collins shook himself and knelt down, swallowing back the revulsion that was twisting up his throat as he secured the lock in place.

He stood and turned, walking out the door and immediately regretted not saying more. Not doing more.

He was a coward.