Chapter Text
Bucky was sitting in the employee cafeteria, eating a burger. He’d used his personal credit card to buy it, along with a bag of chips and a can of root beer. He was still wearing his community service vest, as were the others in a similar predicament as him.
The community workers were all seated at the same table, naturally gravitating to each other in the crowded hall. Other workers had their own cliques, largely ignoring Bucky’s table. A lot of the people at Bucky’s table were ignoring each other too, though a few were on speaking terms. Bucky just kept his head down though, thinking.
He’d fed the alphas lunch already, their meals taking precedence over his own. It had been a straightforward affair, and he’d gotten to talk with Steve a little more too.
As usual, Steve didn’t eat anything on his tray after inspecting it, sighing forlornly as everything was deemed to have drugs in or on them. He was withering away in his cell all for his pride, and it pained Bucky. The alphas here were treated pretty well, when they complied anyway. Steve would have an easier time if he just went with the flow. So what if he got a little drugged? He got three meals a day and a roof over his head.
But then, there was more to life than the essentials. At least the other alphas were given things to occupy themselves with, things to enrich their time in their cells; just not Steve. Bucky couldn’t imagine day-in-day-out having nothing to do but exercise and meditate.
And then there was the collection, which was a whole other can of worms. Bucky wasn’t looking forward to doing it later, but it had to be done. It was just... the way they forced it on Steve was borderline barbaric. This place as an institution seemed so reasonable, but Brock’s cruelty just to Steve rubbed Bucky the wrong way.
What could he do about it though? Maybe convince Steve to give it a try? Steve seemed like a reasonable guy, for an alpha. Surely he’d see the logic.
As Bucky finished his lunch, he looked to the food stations along the wall, considering something. His father wouldn’t notice a little extra spending on his credit card...
With resolve, he got up and threw out his trash, then went up to the sandwich wrap station. Behind the counter was a worker wearing a hairnet and gloves, a series of containers with ingredients in front of her.
“I’d like a wrap” Bucky said, coming up to the counter.
“Sure, what do you want on it?”
Bucky looked at all the options. Steve was only eating minimally, so Bucky had to maximize as much as he could.
“I’ll have ham- extra ham, actually, as much as you can fit in there” he said, then looked at the rest of his options. What would Steve like? “And, uh, cheese, tomato, and mayo”
The server nodded, entering his order onto the machine by her side. She then started making his wrap in front of him, layering on the meat and toppings before rolling it closed. She brought it to a grill press behind her, searing the sides, then took it out. She wrapped it in paper, then printed a sticker and stuck it on the side.
Bucky took the wrap from here, then carried it to the register. There he paid for it, then tucked it in his pocket. It was thicker than the banana he’d smuggled in, but with how people barely gave him a second glance, he felt pretty confident in carrying it around.
Now it was just a matter of seeing if he could get away with it.
Collections were easily Bucky’s least favourite part of his service. It was demeaning, embarrassing, and just plain uncomfortable.
He wheeled the cart through the halls until he got to his designated alpha section, entering and going up to the first cell. He knocked on the glass, getting the alpha’s attention. “Collections” he said, and the alpha got up, stripping naked. Bucky collected the used clothes and then slid the fresh outfit and collection cup through.
He went down the line like he had last time, collecting clothes, packaging and labelling them. He’d move on to the next cell while the previous alpha got busy with providing fluids, avoiding it as much as possible.
Until at last, he was left with just one.
Bucky knocked on the glass, getting Steve’s attention. “Collections” he said with a sympathetic face.
Steve sighed, getting up and unzipping his jumpsuit without complaint. He stripped slowly, like he very much didn’t want to. Bucky politely looked away, until Steve dropped his clothes by the hatch and stepped back. Bucky collected the clothes and replaced them with a fresh set, along with the cup.
He got busy packaging and labelling as Steve dressed, until he couldn’t put it off anymore.
“I also need you to fill the cup”
Steve went back to his cot and sat down. “No”
“Please?”
“No”
Bucky sighed, looking at the innocuous little container in the cell. “Is it really so bad? They’re just gonna force you again. Why go through all that trouble? It’s easier if you just do it now, on your own terms”
“I said no”
Steve gave him a stubborn look, a challenge in his eyes. Bucky just couldn’t fathom it.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure as hell”
Bucky sighed, then collected the empty container before closing the hatch. He set the cup on the cart and paused.
“I’m sorry” Bucky said softly.
“For what?”
“That they treat you like that. It isn’t right”
“It’s been that way for years. Most alphas that come in here say no at first, and then they get forced through it one or two times before they give up”
“Why don’t you?”
“The cabin’s still out there”
Bucky looked up, puzzled. “Huh?”
“The cabin I was raised in- it’s still out there. They got me in town when I made a supply run, so they don’t know about it, where it is. The driveway’s hidden, the land’s private”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Steve scratched his bearded cheek, leaning forward. “I don’t know, I guess I got an idea that if I ever get out of here, that’s where I’ll go. Some days that hope is all that keeps me goin’”
Bucky guffawed. “You actually think they’ll let you out one day?”
Steve looked up sharply, a downturn to his lips. “I know the concept is a little foreign to you, but alphas are people, and we deserve our freedom. I’m not stupid enough to think I can do anything about the system, but I’d like to think I’d get out of here one day and live my life”
“This place has security everywhere! And cameras! You wouldn’t make it out of this hallway!”
“Yeah, well, agree to disagree” Steve muttered.
“... so you don’t do collections because it’ll somehow help you escape?”
“No, I don’t eat the drugged food so I’ll be clear-headed enough to escape. The spunk collection is just demeaning, I don’t do it on principle”
“Doesn’t really seem worth it” Bucky said.
“Easy to say that when you’re on the other side of the glass”
Bucky didn’t know what to say to that, so he returned to the previous topic. “But really, you think you’ll get out of this place? Do you even have a plan?”
“If I did, I don’t think it would be smart of me to share it”
“Touché”
“You should probably get on your way before they notice you taking your time”
Bucky looked to the camera behind him, wondering if anyone was even paying attention right now. He knew the observation room workers looked at the screens every now and then, but from what he’d observed, it was barely a second’s glance. Still, a second was all it would take. They had noticed Steve had taken a liking to him.
“Alright. See you at dinner I guess” Bucky said turning away to get the cart.
“Yeah. And Buck?”
Bucky stopped, looking back. “Yeah?”
“Remember what I asked. When they come in here and force me- look away from the screen”
Bucky swallowed, the gravity of the request sitting heavy between them. “O-okay” he choked, feeling awkward suddenly. Without another word he turned and left, pushing the cart to go collect the remaining bottles of semen that were likely ready for pickup.
As he passed the empty cells between Steve and the rest of the residents, his mind lingered on what was about to happen to Steve. How he somehow accepted the cruel treatment over the easy compliance. Was his pride really that great? It hardly seemed like a difficult task- just jack-off into a cup, save the trouble and indignity of being forced, not to mention the pain. All those bruises on Steve’s body spoke of frequent abuse, and it pulled at Bucky’s conscience.
But what could he do? He was on the bottom of the rung in terms of influence in here, just above the alphas themselves.
It wasn’t a promising thought.