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Steve found himself lost in a silence of his bedroom, his cries echoing off the walls against a muffled world outside his window. Drenched in sweat, he pushed up from the bed, feeling the dampness on his brow and chest. He wet his dry lips, his throat burning.
Fuck.
He’d been screaming in his sleep again.
The roof shifted with the heavy presence of the freshly fallen snow that had built momentum over the evening hours.
Steve couldn’t quite catch his breath, he searched for his asthma tablets in the side drawer next to his bed and slipped one beneath his tongue. And although he could breathe once more, focusing on the bitter taste in his mouth as he waited for relief, the images in his mind didn’t sway. Images of his mother, far away and out of reach. Sick and wasting away. Out of reach of saving.
He pulled his bent knees up to his chin and clenched at the sheets between his fingers. He fidgeted for a few more minutes, not counting each tic of the clock but it felt like hours before he shuffled out of bed. He lingered outside his doorway, listening to the quietness of the apartment.
Since Sarah Rogers had died, Bucky had made up camp in their apartment, taking the guest room given that Steve couldn’t quite give up his mom’s room yet. Thankfully Bucky understood and said ‘that he couldn’t care less where he slept, as long as he and Steve were together’ Never complaining about the smaller nature of the guest room.
Steve shuffled around in the hallway, biting his bottom lip raw, before raising a fist to Bucky’s bedroom door that was only slightly ajar, closed rooms were closed from heat. This winter had been brutal and they’d run both the radiator and the stove to keep warm, there were many nights where they’d share a bed just to keep from freezing. And Bucky did, just like with anything, all of it without complaining. His best friend had curled around him without question or thought and held him.
So perhaps that was why in this moment Steve was moved to go to Bucky’s room, the looming nature of the nightmare still threatening on the tendrils of his mind. The flashing image of his mother dying, beseeching him to save her, even though it was a sickness that had taken her from his world, his heart hurt anyway.
He could have done something, surely he could have done something.
This spurred him forward, the rapid beating of his heart and the tears threatening to fall, “B-Buck? You awake?” he hadn’t knocked, not just yet, but then there Bucky was. A worn shirt and undershorts, his hair messy and eyes blurry leaning against the doorway.
“What’s wrong Stevie? Heard you crying out just before…”
Steve swallowed thickly once, then twice, then again, his mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. “I-I’m sorry…I just…”
“Jesus, Stevie,” Bucky exhaled, scrubbing his face with both hands, “You scared the hell out of me. Screaming like that….was just about ready to come in there.”
“I didn’t mean to…” Steve shook his head, still biting his lips and sure at this point he’d make them bleed, “I meant to knock but then…”
Bucky just sleepily closed his eyes and shook his head as well, gesturing with his hands, “I was already awake. Get in here….”
“You don’t have to I just….”
“Bad dream?” Bucky offered, another sigh descending from his mouth and those stupid tears began to threaten Steve’s eyes once more.
“I’m fine. I just thought I heard a noise and thought you were up…it’s fine…” Steve started with a gulp. He didn’t expect, or hell, he probably did expect Bucky to wrap an arm around his shoulders and that was why he’d come.
Bucky’s tone was gentle and scolding, “Now, where do you think you’re going? Get your ass in here…” he tugged him towards the lumpy full-sized bed that was, yes, his Mom’s. Steve had allowed that much but as they both sat upon the surface, the burst of smell of her perfume was swimming in the air and against his will he hiccupped a sob. Bucky’s mouth turned into a frown, “Stevie, Jesus, sweetheart…”
A slip of the tongue, had to be, Steve thought, he fought the urge to lose his breath once more as Bucky pulled him close, “It was about your mama wasn’t it.”
“Yeah,” Steve sobbed, his vision completely blurry now, and he couldn’t help it, he was falling against Bucky’s offered shoulder with ease. He wanted to camp here, find solace here, and never leave. Bucky was warmth and love and acceptance.
“You know all that wasn’t your fault, huh? Sarah dying wasn’t your fault, she was just sick…act of nature not act of Steve Rogers.” Bucky spoke in such a soothing tone that mimicked his Mother’s. That no-nonsense ‘everything will be alright’ tone that he had never acquired.
“Maybe,” Steve gulped, “I’m sorry…I know it’s stupid…I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, you always come to me when you have these nightmares, got it? Promise?” Bucky nudged him and tightened his hold.
“Okay,” Steve answered wobbly-like. “I promise.”
“You know I’m not going anywhere, right? I’ll never leave you all by yourself…” Bucky asked another heavy with worry question.
“I would understand if you did,” Steve snuffled, willing his fingers to unclench from Bucky’s night-shirt without luck.
Bucky almost looked angry, “But I’m not going to…never…end of the line, pal.”
That was it. Steve lost it, his cries were powerful and painful and he fully fell against Bucky’s chest, “Why…” he wailed, his voice bouncing off the wall in a way that triggered the feeling of the nightmare.
“Oh Stevie, you are so smart in so many ways…but you’re so stupid….so, so stupid, honey…” Bucky murmured against his temple, so much so Steve could feel his lips there, wet, warm, perfect, and safe.
Steve tilted his head, with all intentions of speaking that he would be ‘just fine’ Bucky’s mouth was on his, nudging his lips apart in such a gentle kiss Steve swore this would always be his ‘first kiss’ no matter what his brain said otherwise. “B-Buck…”
Bucky pulled away, just long enough to cup and cradle Steve’s face in both strong hands, “Don’t tell me this is one-sided, sweetheart…”
“It’s not,” Steve hurried, his heart flurrying again with panic, and then Bucky’s mouth was on his again and he pushed forward, despite the tears running down his cheeks, and his chest hitching so horribly. Cause he only wanted this, always wanted this.
“How about, you and I get some sleep, huh?” Bucky offered, kissing his lips, then his cheeks, wandering to each eye over his closed lids, “And no more of this hidin’ huh?”
“No,” Steve shook his head fervently, “No hidin’.”
Bucky pulled him down to the bed, the storm raging outside in a flurry of snow and wind, rattling the entire structure. But here Steve felt safe, Bucky gathered him into his arms as if he were something precious and fragile and perfect. He snuggled in without prompting, the heat of their bodies spreading through his limbs. “I love you Buck…”
“Love you too punk,” Bucky countered, kissing his forehead firm and with purpose, “How about you gettin’ some sleep. I’ll be here if the bad dreams show up again…just like when we were kids.”
It sounded so absolute, like this was forever and nothing could hurt them. Ever. No matter what the future held with war and persecution. None of it mattered.
Bucky tugged the blankets up around them both, allowing Steve to burrow against Bucky’s chest, feeling small and strong in one fell swoop. He was warm in more ways than he could describe.
“Glad you came in here…” Bucky whispered against the noisy wind-shaken room, “You shoulda come here sooner. This ain’t the first night you’ve been up cryin’ and screamin’ you can always come to me.”
“I know…” Steve replied, closing his eyes, and nuzzling his chest, kissing his sternum before looking up and targeting his mouth, “Just scared to…wasn’t sure what this might be.”
“Well, no more guessin’,” Bucky exhaled more relieved sounding, settling down into the covers and holding Steve tight.
As fingers found there way into Steve’s hair, caressing his scalp, his eyes almost rolled back in his head, because this was a comfort he’d forgotten could exist.
“So, what was your dream about?” Bucky asked after a long bout of comfortable silence.
Steve found himself smiling, despite the tightness in his chest, “Doesn’t matter,” he gave a purposeful wiggle and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist. The world might have been a mess but for now, it made sense. “I feel good now. Happy.”
“All that matters, Sweetheart,” Bucky said, his tender touch never ceasing. “Now sleep…we got tomorrow ahead of us and it’ll be better than today.”