Sleep

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It was impossible to sleep after that, lying in bed next to Steve with the feeling that you had to keep one eye open at all times, and now with the crippling pain of belief that you had no idea who the man next to you even was. But despite your fear and no matter how much pain it caused you to watch, you had to try to maintain your composure until you could figure out what was happening. You had to keep him safe from whoever was getting to him just as much as you had to keep yourself and the kids safe from him.

As your mind raced, you almost had yourself convinced that you had heard him wrong, and it was just trickery in your own head that was leading you here. If he were being controlled, he wouldn't be able to come home and act normally, as if everything was okay, right? He wouldn't be able to interact with his children so casually and comfortably if it wasn't Steve...right?

"Dammit," you muttered, sitting up and swinging your legs over the bed. The fatigue had already set into your body in anticipation of sleep, though not relieved by a long stretch as it usually would be. You stopped when you heard Steve begin to stir, turning to look at him expectantly while trying to maintain an outward calm.

"Hey," he whispered, "what's wrong?"

"Can't sleep," you replied with a weary smile, "I'm gonna run down and grab some milk. Be back in a few minutes."

"M'kay," he murmured, rolling over and back to sleep.

With a sigh of relief, you slid off the bed and quietly tip-toed to the door, closing it behind you softly as to not wake him again. Once outside of your room, your pace quickened towards the kitchen, bypassing the elevator and taking the stairs two and three at a time. Your heart was pounding with each step and your body felt the urgency to get as much distance from Steve as it could despite your attempts to tell yourself otherwise. By the time you rounded the corner and crossed the threshold of the room, you felt as if your heart was about to explode in your chest.

"Hey, girl, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"Hey, Buck," you panted, trying to hold yourself together, "couldn't sleep."

"Ah, I know that feeling," he paused, sensing more and standing to meet you, "hey, you're shaking. What's going on?"

You shook your head and closed your eyes, doing your best to fight the tears that wouldn't follow your command to stop. A few fell and you felt his hand come up to your cheek, only to make you open your eyes and step away from him. "Just a bad dream, Buck. I'm okay, I just need a drink."

"That must have been one hell of a dream. You wanna talk about it?"

"Nope," you replied with a pop, pushing your way around him and to the cupboard to take a glass in hand. "I just want it to get out of my head." Grabbing the milk, you poured a small amount, followed by a few splashes of tea, but you were missing the one thing that you really wanted. You heard him take his seat again as you looked around in more cupboards, only to come up empty. "Buck, do we have any Bailey's?"

"Shit, how bad was your dream, (Y/N)?"

"Just answer the damn question, please."

"Yeah, we do," he answered cautiously, standing and running to the bar on the far side of the lounge, only to return seconds later with a bottle in his grip. "Here, all yours."

You grabbed it readily and tore the label and cap away, filling the rest of your glass eagerly before taking a long drink with a sigh of relief at it's flavor. "Thanks. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm just tired and cranky."

"Right. I've seen you tired and cranky, (Y/N), and this ain't that."

The more he asked, the more you realized that you really didn't know how to answer him, nor did you have the energy to anymore. The two of you sat in silence once you had taken a place across the table from him; you stared at the liquid in your glass while he stared at you. He was a man with remarkable patience, and you knew that if you told him everything, he would listen and help to find an answer, but you just couldn't risk it.

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