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It’s one of those dreams that disorients you beyond the moment you open your eyes.
Your brain can’t make sense of it at first. All you know is that you’re being chased. Your feet pound the pavement under you so hard it sends warning aches up your calves. The more steps you take, the more your sneakers feel like sandbags, slowing you down enough to hear the heavy footsteps behind you.
Your ribs squeeze tight with fear as you feel invisible fingertips brush the back of your waist, grasping at your clothing, trying to drag you backwards as you run for your life. If your pursuer doesn’t catch up first, your heart might explode right out of your chest. You start to call for help, but the words come out so quiet even the breeze doesn’t lift them. You try again, but your lungs refuse to push out air, and you realize with a surge of panic that you also can’t breathe. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as your vision starts to fade around the edges, plunging you into somewhere scarier and more suffocating.
Your eyes snap open, but you don’t see a thing.
You’re trapped. Your feet kick the air and meet tight layers of fabric, twisting around your legs the more you squirm and struggle. Your chest is heaving with a desperate attempt to draw in air, and your blood is rushing so loud in your ears that you don’t hear your own gasping sobs.
The door bursts open, and your blindness becomes a pathway to vigilance. All you see before yanking the blanket over your head is a large silhouette filling the doorway with hallway light spilling in behind them. All you can think is they’re here, they’ve caught me, I can’t let them see me, while your body shakes under the covers like you’ve been sleeping on a block of ice.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” someone’s sleep-rough voice says above you, and you curl in tighter, convinced that the blanket will keep you safe from the dangers outside of it. Your eyes adjust slightly as another light flicks on, casting a warm glow through a gap in the bedding. You can see two pairs of pajama-clad legs moving around the room, and without thinking, you tug the blanket down enough to see.
It doesn’t help. Big hands are suddenly reaching for you and you flinch backwards without thinking, a startled gasp leaving your lips. Your legs are still stuck in the blankets and you kick uselessly. Your panic escalates by the second as your mind files away too many details to make an escape: two bodies blocking the immediate exit, both much larger than you; blankets tangled around your waist and effectively restricting your ability to run; and your brain is very quickly, very dangerously tipping you into a headspace where all you can think about is who’s going to hug your stuffed animals when you get taken.
A plushie appears in front of you like he was summoned by your worries. Your eyes dart wildly to the shelf where he sat before, then back to the hands offering him to you. For the first time, a flicker of safety sparks in your chest, and you hug the plushie tight before they change their mind.
“There we go,” they whisper, and you’re suddenly not afraid to look up into their features. Slowly, like warmth creeping back into cold hands, recognition spills over the fear finally starting to recede in your mind. Your arms react before you can process it, and you reach out.
Immediately, Bucky scoops you up into his arms, bouncing slightly to soothe you like he just knows you feel so much smaller than you did when you fell asleep. Enveloped in this new feeling of safety, you cling shamelessly to his sleep shirt, your plushie squished between your chests as you hold on for dear life.
“You’re safe, sweetheart,” comes Steve’s gentle reassurance, weaved into Bucky’s gentle shushing as you whimper and hiccup your last few sobs into his shoulder. His hands are efficient as they untangle the blankets still wrapped around your legs. “We’re right here.”
“No one’s gettin’ to you through a couple of supersoldiers, honey,” Bucky murmurs in your ear, brushing a kiss against the side of your head. “Not on my watch, or on Steve’s.” Carefully, making sure it doesn’t startle you, he sits on the edge of the bed with you cradled in his lap, tucked secure against his broad chest. You try to whisper I need you both or I’m scared to be alone or I didn’t know where I was, but the words are too heavy to fit in your mouth. Your lips open uselessly, the sound trapped in your throat, and your eyes start to spring frustrated tears until you’re suddenly moving again.
It’s like they heard you anyways, and you childishly wonder to yourself if supersoldier serum can give someone mind reading powers. Bucky shifts you from his lap to the bed, his hands never leaving your body as he squeezes between you and the wall. Immediately, you’re joined on the other side by Steve’s strong form, and it quickly dawns on you that you’re the safest, warmest, most understood you could possibly be right now.
“Sleep, baby,” Steve whispers, tucking the blankets a little more secure around your shoulders. He immediately accepts as you burrow into his chest, one arm coming to rest heavy around your waist like he wants you to know he’d fight wars before letting anyone come between you both. Bucky’s hand rests on your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades in the way he knows makes your eyes feel heavy.
“We’ve got you,” Bucky reminds you once more as you fade again, this time into a safety net where you’ll float until morning light draws you back into their arms. “You’re not alone. Never.”