Who Am I? » [Stucky]

66. Heroes Have Nightmares Too

Steve was being smothered in the thick billowing white sheets, drowning in the cavernous cave of duvets, doused in slick pongy sweat, his brow dotted with shining beads of perspiration like dew on grass. One lone dot glided down his shiny temple and rolled onto his burning cheek before falling back to his hairline. His hair was tousled and damp from the stinking sweat sinking into it and clogging his absorbent locks with moisture.

He flailed his overpowered weighted limbs, rolling about restlessly, being tortured by the agonising images flickering across the back of his eyelids. His whole body was burning up with fear and distress, his muscles tensing and juddering.

Reaching... Reaching as far as possible... Stretching arm out as far as possible... Leaning out of the hole in the carriage... Just a bit-

Howling... Descending... Falling...

Steve jolted suddenly awake, throwing his body forwards and sitting bolt upright in bed, rasping for breath, clutching his spacious devoid chest, his vacuous lungs heaving for oxygen, aching in his body. His heart was smashing into his ribcage with every terrified beat, rattling amongst the rest of his organs. The covers stuck to his overheated body, sticky with sweat.

He dragged his legs up to his chest and curled up in a tight ball like a porcupine, wrapping his arms around his condensed and folded legs as a form of self-comfort, stroking his own skin with his hands. He was trembling uncontrollably, jittering from the images that had plagued him. It was only a matter of time before the nightmares returned.

Then the tears came, flooding his crazed wide blue eyes and pouring down his cheeks, cascading down the curves and contours of his face, smeared across his pasty sweat-glistening complexion. He sobbed relentlessly, choked mewls falling from his lips helplessly. He was suspended in a state of hysteria, forcing his eyes open to try and flush out the memories.

Bucky was awoken by the soft howls and whines coming from the shaking figure on the bed next to him.

"Steve?" He questioned in a crackling hoarse voice, rolling over and contorting his neck to look at him. "My god... What's wrong?!" He squeaked in alarm, reaching forwards, grovelling and scraping at his bedside table and flicking on the lamp. "Steve?" He called again, twisting and rearranging himself to meet him.

Steve couldn't manage a word, his lips parted and he let out a strangled sound on a sigh, but couldn't say a thing. It was like someone had ripped his vocal chords out of his throat, he was unable to spit it out.

Bucky threw off the sheets and quickly encased Steve in his arms and smothered him with kisses, holding him close, squeezing him tightly. "It's all over... Whatever it was... It's all over," Bucky reassured him, peppering him with kisses, across every inch of his body, trying to drag him back to reality with his sensitive touch. "A dream is a dream, it's not real..." Bucky reasoned with him, spooning against his body, sitting upright and pressed against him, the sweat running down Steve's curved spine transferring onto his bare chest; although - at that present second he couldn't care less.

"It was," Steve squeaked, his voice rough and wretched from all of the crying, his throat in shreds from all of the pained noises.

"What?" Bucky whipped his head up from where he was kissing Steve's bicep and stroking his arm up and down.

"I... I... I'm sorry..." Steve whispered, looking Bucky in the eye, his blue eyes shimmering with the mirrored tears forming a film over his haunted eyes, ghosted over by the evocative demons of his past. More tears dripped out of his eyes and the crying resumed at a faster pace. He buried his face in his curled up body, pressing it against his legs.

"For what...?" Bucky breathed softly, trying to be tame and understanding, running a hand up and down Steve's spine, trying to calm him.

"I..." Steve looked up and looked him in the eyes and trailed off.