Work Text:
2018
The afternoon sun shines lazily upon the two of them where they lie prone each on their own end of the sofa, almost sleeping and happily relaxed. There’s the hiss and splutter of coffee brewing in the background, the thrum of traffic outside their window. Their upstairs neighbor’s playing Biggie Smalls. Steve has The New York Times draped over him like a blanket, his eyes not all the way closed but getting there and no longer focused on the paper. He’s got his legs crossed and bare feet propped up on a cushion, almost touching the soles of Bucky’s boots.
It was all a dream
I used to read Word Up! Magazine!
Bucky lies on his end of the sofa and looks at Steve. He looks at the way the sun turns his lashes golden, relishes the gleam of the soft bow of Steve’s lips. The rustling rise and fall of the newspaper when Steve breathes. He hears Steve’s heartbeat when he listens for it, even beyond all other sounds, hears it thud in time with his own, slow and steady like time itself, old as the earth.
Born sinner, the opposite of a winner
Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner
Bucky’s not sleepy, but he might as well be, as relaxed as he is. He hasn’t looked at the door for forty-five minutes, hasn’t reacted the sound of sirens outside the window for longer than that. His head is full of Steve’s sleepy breathing and the faint noise of Notorious B.I.G., and he can’t tell if it’s 1928 or 2018 and he doesn’t care either way.
One hand is flesh and the other one metal – shining in the sun – and he doesn’t care. It’s like- it’s like something happened to him sometime long ago, and it’s such a distance in time away that it’s like it’s happened to someone else.
Steve’s lashes flutter as his eyelids close all the way. He falls asleep with his lips slightly parted, breathing softly.
Bucky looks at Steve sleep and feels like he could sleep himself, and it would be OK. Their feet on the sofa are almost touching, the apartment is warm and full of sun. The coffee will be ready when they wake.
He could sleep, and it would be fine.
Instead, he keeps looking at Steve.
You know very well
Who you are
Don’t let ‘em hold you down
Reach for the stars
Then Steve starts to disappear suddenly, dissipating like so much smoke.
The sun, the apartment- all of it, rapidly fading away.
No.
Bucky finds himself in a room he’s been in thousands of times, recognition dawning on him like a heart attack. Glittering black tiles on the floors and walls illuminated by fluorescent ceiling lights.
He tries to move, but finds he can’t, restrained by metal over his arms pinning him to a chair.
To the chair.
No, no, no.
There are men in white coats, and men with guns.
There’s no Brooklyn, no apartment, no Steve.
No Steve.
No Steve.
Was there ever a Steve?
Pain – in his chest. He gasps for air.
“Sir, its behavior – it’s erratic.”
“Doesn’t matter now. It won’t remember. Wipe it.”
Bucky screams.
You had a goal
But not that many
‘Cause you’re the only one
I’ll give you good and plenty