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Their nightmares aren’t all that different, sometimes. When Steve dreams of water freezing solid around him, Bucky dreams of a closing door and ice climbing through his veins. Sometimes Steve is back on the speeding train, his arms fused to the torn metal while he watches Bucky fall into a bottomless abyss, until a cold mist covers his eyes and all he can do is listen to Bucky scream. Sometimes Bucky watches Steve fall with the fiery debris of the hellicarrier into dark waters. When his body hits the water, Bucky watches the Winter Soldier return to his masters, eyes empty, voice droning, “Mission complete.”
They never wake at the same time. When Steve wakes before Bucky, a cry caught in his throat, arms reaching for a fading specter, he turns to his sleeping lover and sees Bucky’s frown, his twitching fingers and clenched jaw, and curls around him, whispering, It’s alright, I’m here…
When Bucky wakes before Steve, gasping, arms trembling, he turns to Steve and pulls him close, smooths his flesh hand over the goosebumps on Steve’s frozen arms and legs and breathes warmth into his neck, murmuring, You’re okay, you’re with me…
Then, embraced, warm body against warm body, they find comfort that only the other can bring, and dream of pleasant days long gone, of days to come.