Late Nights
It was too late for him to be awake and everything about him screamed it. Steve was slouched against the stone wall, eyes drooping and his hair a mess. I was almost shocked when he reacted to my approaching footsteps - he straightened and wiped his eyes, a smile spreading across his face. I don't know how he always lit up when I approached, yet it often pried a smile from my lips in return. “Little too late for you?” I asked, approaching the door he stood beside.
He chuckled nervously, as he do often did when I addressed him. “I'll survive it Soldier. You seem to handle late nights just fine.”
I grinned and nudged his shoulder with mine. “You just need a bit of practice yeah? I wouldn't mind keeping you up all night.”
As soon as the words fell out of my mouth I could taste regret. It made me feel so crude, my touch and my pick up lines tainting him. Steve didn't seem to notice my inner turmoil. Instead his face flushed a darling shade of pink, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Go, go to bed James.” he retorted weakly. I grinned and saluted, walking in to the room Steve spent half the night guarding. The blush suited him, his pixie like face glowing from it. I truly enjoyed teasing him, and making him flustered enough to call me James but it preyed on my mind more than I cared to admit. I flirted with most people, a crude joke or a wink here and there. What I didn't do with most people was worry about how crude I was being, wish that I could instead compliment them. Wish that my tongue didn't turn into lead when I debated saying something with meaning, when I considered the ways I could compliment his hair.
All useless things for me to wish. I shook my head trying to focus. I blinked, the room remained dark. It took me a second to realise how I'd forgotten to turn on the light - too lost in my own thoughts again. A flick of the switch flooded the room with bright white lights. I made my way to the bed, dodging the floorboards that creaked under my weight and began to untie my laces. The combat boots although practical weren't comfortable, especially not when caked with mud. My fingers deftly untied the laces and I slid the boots off my feet, peeling away the socks. For a second I considered not changing, it was late and I was exhausted. However last time I slept in clothes from work I'd woken up with angry red lines canvassing my body and a sore back. And so the vest came off, the black shirt following it. I tugged it over my head yet the sleeve clung resolutely to my metal arm, another snagged thread most likely. It took some fidgeting but eventually it was off, leaving me in the mud smeared long pants.
A cursory splash of water to my face made me feel better. I ran my fingers through my hair wincing at the knots, I could comb them. The beds reflection in the mirror however was too tempting. Combing my hair was a job for tomorrow. I shed the long pants, stretching my legs as the cool air caressed me. With a flick of the switch the room was bathed in darkness and I relaxed into the bed. My day began to replay in my mind the second my eyes were shut. Thinking about it made the aches that radiated throughout my body all the more obvious. In vain I tried distract myself yet my attention remained solely on my daily recap.
Breakfast (never enough food, but more than before). The doctor checks on me. A blank period, a memory I've lost. Delivering a mission report. Training, training. She talks to me. The doctor checks on me (the new regime is better, I'm more present and more intelligent). Her and the doctor argue (what if they lose control, she isn't happy). I eat, I've lost track of the hours now. I'm in a car. A blank period. A mission report. A meeting (one I spent scraping mud off my pants). Steve. Bed.
Eventually my mind dropped the loop, stopped searching for memories to fill the gaps of my day. My breaths slowed, and I turned my attention to that.Counting slowly as I tried convince my mind and body to sleep, to finally rest. The soft sounds of Steve walking outside caught my ears. His shoes were too big, it made his gait shuffle and uneven. The rhythm of it was easy to follow however, picturing him as he trekked futilely in front of the door fighting off weariness. I spared a moment to pity him and the late hours he had but soon enough the soft sounds and warm bed put me to sleep.
The sleep didn't last long.
Every night the same shadowy images plagued me. I'm not religious although every so often I heard a voice, a faded memory, telling me to watch my demons. It didn't give me much choice did it? Tormenting me as I twisted and turned half awake and half asleep. I used to bother people screaming myself awake. I don't know when I began biting my tongue instead. Sometimes I'd wake up blood dribbling down my face and heaving coughs. Tonight instead a light woke me. I sat up too fast, twisting towards it as I reached for my gun.
“Please don't shoot-! It's just me, it's just Steve.” He continued to ramble, silhouetted in my doorway as my brain tuned him out. It took me another moment, or perhaps minute to refocus on him. My hand hadn't moved from holding the gun and my eyes remained tracked on him. He'd moved from the doorway to my bed, hovering a metre away. “Soldier?” he asked. I nodded in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the tight feeling in my face. “Did I disturb you?” My voice came out dry and hoarse, a desperate whisper. Before I could choke out an apology he interrupted.
“No, I just, I just could hear you tossing and turning. You seemed, uhm, distressed. So I decided to check in on you.” I could think of a witty reply, I could think of ten things to spin back with that would make him blush. But now was not the time, now I couldn't muster up a smile. It was too loud, suffocating in the silence that my brain tried smother with phantom figured screaming. “I'm okay, thank you.” A cursory reply, one I'd been taught. Steve's look of doubt almost made me smile. “You know, I can guard your room just as well from inside it can't I? So- so if it'll help I can stay.” His eyes remained boring into me, flicking between me, my chest, the gun.
I paused. Surely he had read the case files, surely he knew that was against protocol and against common sense. It was dangerous, for him. He would be too close to me for too long - without the heavy bolted door that kept me locked in in case something in the programming failed. It was rare but it happened, most often at night. “You don't have to do that.” My throat still scratched as I spoke, forcing the words out drily. “I know.” Steve replied. Short and sweet, as if he wasn't aware of all the risks. Of the threat I could pose. I ran my metal hand over my face, the coolness of it jolting me slightly. It took a moment, but I untangled my legs from the blanket and stood up, gun still in my hand. “Steve…” I began to say. His reaction shut me up. He looked scared now, his eyes wide and pupils large. I watched closely as he took a sharp breath, his ears would be tinged red I'm sure of it.
Maybe it was different seeing me fully, maybe now I wasn't some broken soldier coughing in a pile of blankets I looked truly intimidating. “Steve, you don't have to stay. Go back to your post.” His head snapped up to make eye contact with me, his tongue darting out to wet his lips again. I frowned, following his gaze from before. Curious to know what had captured his attention. A scar? My arm? ….my crotch. I'd almost forgotten I was only in my boxers. Few other guards reacted to it, most people were used to it. Steve however- maybe he wasn't scared. Maybe… I let that train of thought end, I couldn't get distracted of crude images of what I could do to him. I couldn't focus on them, not now. His eyes continued to track my body, slowly and stuttering over certain details. I watched as he glanced at my gun and gasped almost silently. Oh? Pausing at my chest again, licking his lips at my crotch before slowly moving his eyes to my face.
It was like torture. Seeing him act like this, seeing him shut up and distracted by my body. He wasn't scared, not even of the gun. In fact I think the gun excited him more than anything else about this. Who would've guessed? For a second I toyed with the idea of teasing him about it, of bringing my gun up to touch him. I could just about see how his body would react I pictured it so vividly.
Instead my eyes met his, and I watched as he chewed on his lip. A sorry guard, but a cute one. “Done perving yet?” His mouth fell open, and a moment passed as I watched him try stammer for excuses. As I imagined how it'd feel to pin him against the wall and kiss him, to leave him breathless and weak in the knees.“I'm sorry, yes- Soldier. I didn’t, I didn't mean to uhm, I mean- I wasn't..” He stammered.
“Hm?”
“Sorry, I mean uhm, I'll wait outside yeah? And you can call me if you need okay Soldier?” He said, flicking his hair from his eyes.
I nodded my assent, a grin forming despite myself. The thought of how I could kill him in a heartbeat wasn't enough to keep Steve at his post outside, but the thought of being near a man in boxers did?
If it was anyone else I would've accepted it as homophobia and moved on. But I'd seen how Steve treated people, I doubt he'd be one to judge and bitch like that. Besides, his reaction? I'd misjudged it as scared but as I watched him half run back out the door I knew he was turned on by this, by me. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the idea. I got back into bed, stretching out atop the covers. Gun down. A quick glance to the window confirmed I still had a few hours before I had to rise, enough time to handle the problem that thinking too hard about Steve had caused and get some sleep in.