Disoriented » Captain America

chapter twelve

12 x kind of

>>>

I had not slept in upwards of seventy hours, and to say I was feeling it would be an extremely drastic understatement.

I was inherently an insomniac. It wasn't by choice. It had something to do with my super powers, that much I knew for sure; it was just particularly hard for me to sleep . . . mostly because most of the time I forgot sleep was actually, y'know, an important bodily function.

I could make it to a little over thirty hours of wakefulness before I'd actually start feeling the effects. Said effects included the faintest blurring of lines between my present and other time periods, along with random number spouting (the numbers weren't random to me) and a whole lot of smart-mouthing that was generally unnecessary but also unavoidable.

Because of my being in this state, I also knew exactly how long I hadn't slept -- forty-four hours. I'd get into minutes and seconds, but let's be real, you don't care about that.

Usually, I could put up with this kind of weird, near jitteriness for another few hours before resigning myself to the fact that I actually did need sleep.

Except 'usually' for me didn't tend to involve Avenger activities like, I don't know, practicing martial arts.

Let's just say Steve knew there was a problem when I fazed out of it so hard that I stood stock still in the ring and didn't even take notice of Sam's climbing in. I only really snapped to when I heard, "Jo?" my attention flitting to him in a millisecond, eyes widening as I realized what I'd done.

I hummed in reply, not trusting myself with words, watching him carefully as he too climbed into the ring. I vaguely heard him say "Yeah, just go help Nat with the weapons lessons." It didn't really register that he'd essentially dismissed Sam, mostly 'cause I was a little preoccupied staring at his eyes.

He's got the most beautiful blue eyes. They're bright, but not in a constantly chipper way, and they reminded me of the calm before a storm. When he'd focused said eyes on me, I arched one brow, and before I could stop myself, opened my big mouth.

"Bucky hasn't slept either." I cursed myself when I realized what I'd done, and had to restrain myself from face-palming.

Steve's brows rose in what could've been skepticism, but for the most part, he just looked amused. And actually a little worried. "You just admitted to not sleeping. You realize that, right?"

I blinked a few times. "Kind of."

He let out a laugh, but it was definitely more on the nervous side. "Kind of? Wow, that's nowhere near the Jo I'm used to." He paused, moving toward me carefully, reaching out and squeezing my shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in circles against my skin. "How long has it been since you've slept?"

"Seventy-four hours, twenty-seven minutes, and sixteen . . . seventeen . . . eighteen seconds," I finished in a rush once it occurred to me that I could've been counting seconds for quite some time. Then I gave a sheepish smile once I recognized the sincere worry on Steve's face. "I'm fine," I insisted.

"You're not," he disagreed, studying me intently.

"I am kind of," I persisted, to which he rolled his eyes.

"Uh huh. After I've everything I've seen and heard from you, 'kind of,' ain't gonna cut it." Before I could protest he'd scooped me up bridal style and was climbing out of the ring.

I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck. I mean, it was that or fight him, and of all the people I've fought, I have no intention of Steve ever being one of them. So instead I sighed, rested my head on his shoulder, and muttered, "I'm not that tired."

"I'm making a note to self that this is what you act like when you're tired," he informed me, as though I hadn't spoken. "Because I have a feeling this is something I'll definitely need to remember for later."

I harrumphed, and made no other move to comment until I realized we were boarding the elevator. I pulled back some then to look at him, "You know, you have super-people to train," I said as seriously as I was capable of.

He actually smiled, then pecked my nose. I could feel the blush rise even before he spoke. "My first and foremost concern is my super-girlfriend. In case you were wondering."

I sighed and let my head fall back to his shoulder. "There's only one of me," I pointed out, but the exhaustion was starting to wail on me and seriously lessen my resolve.

"Exactly," he nodded seriously, stepping off the elevator and heading toward my room. He squeezed my shoulders with one arm, glancing down at me, "All the more reason to always make sure you're okay."

That was the end of our conversation, which I was oddly okay with. It was mostly the end, though, because I was smiling like an idiot. That coupled with my exhaustion (or maybe the warmth Steve radiated as he climbed into bed with me) sent me straight to sleep.

The last thing I remembered was his arms sliding around my waist. I could hear his heart thump-thump-thumping in my ear as sleep began to claim me . . . and my last thought was being content was usually what came right before a problem.