Steve likes to sleep.
Steve likes to sleep, because of what his mind comes up with. What he could have had and would have been. What should have been.
When his head hits the pillow he thinks of things from the past, he thinks of Bucky. In his dreams his brain fabricates lies that are so realistic it’s hard not to believe them. He latches on to them, clings to them like it’s the only thing he knows. If Steve is being honest to himself, that’s one of the very few things that are keeping him alive.
When Steve crashed the Valkyrie he knew damn well that he could get out of there before it hit the water. What was the point of living if his lover wasn’t there with him?
Tonight His brain has cooked up something new. Steve, back to his small self, was fixing dinner for the two of them when the door creaked open. He hears Bucky’s footsteps before he sees him. When Steve turns his head, the other man gives him a tired smile and hugs him from behind. “Whatchya makin’ Stevie?” His voice is just how he remembers and the blond shivers at the thought. The brunette’s head is resting on his own and Bucky is making them sway as Steve stirs the pot.
The scene changes and now they’re on the couch, a sketch pad in Steve’s lap while the bigger man is posing in front of him, his shirt discarded. He looked like some sort of Greek god in Steve’s opinion. The man with blue eyes continued his shading, almost done with it all together, eyes glancing back at the beautiful man in front of him. “How do I look?”
Steve glanced back up to see that signature smirk playing on Bucky’s lips. Like a dream, his mind supplied. Instead his mouth said “You’re alright.” Blue eyes shameless scanning Bucky’s body. He could feel heat rising up and settling on his checks.
“I’m alright? You been seein’ somethin’ that ya like better?” The brunette raised his eyebrows in amusement. The smaller man set his sketch pad off to the side, standing up and moving towards his secret lover. Automatically Bucky drops his pose and his left hand rests on his hip. “Maybe.” Steve had murmured playfully. “You little punk.”
With that Bucky’s arm’s looped around the artist’s slim waist, pulling him up against himself. The shorter man looked up into those grey pools and for the first time in a long, long while he felt at home. He was safe, he was loved and he was at home, finally. In that brief moment Steve Rogers believed that this was reality, and that damn war never even happened in the first place.
The taller of the two leans down and their lips meet. Pleasure washed over Steve in waves and he’s completely bought into this lie. Everything feels fuzzy and his vision is hazy. “Buck, what’s… what’s goin’ on?” He’s suddenly dizzy and tightens his grip on his best guys’ shoulders to keep him steady. The brunette just gives him that million dollar smile and cups his cheek while Steve blinks rapidly, trying to get his vision to clear. “I gotta go, Doll.” Even though his smile is still painted upon his face, he manages to make it seem sad. The blond’s stomach drops and Bucky immediately notices his boyfriends dismay. “Steve, Stevie, look at me. I promise you that I’ll see you again real soon, ‘kay?” His tone was sweet and gentle as Steve fell into darkness.
The super soldier jerked awake, a cold sweat covering his forehead. He sat up breathing heavily and it took him a moment to realize that he was alone, all by himself in 2016 and that it still wasn’t 1943. Steve sighed out and looked around the room before laying back down in the empty bed. Baby blues glanced up at the clock, reading the numbers.
He felt empty, a hole in not just his heart, but in the majority of himself. At the same time he wanted to laugh but also sob until he had no more tears left to give. Steve had another feeling rise up in him. Suspicion and uneasiness filling his gut, but he shook that feeling off, trying to get back to his fantasy land. Steve could never quite get used to Jarvis always keeping an eye on him. Just watch, not recording at least in his private quarters.
The soldier had completed his mission. Gathering data on the subject, enough to perform the perfect assassination. He was to monitor the subject’s whole schedule, finding out which opportunity was the best to strike. He had stalked the subject known as Steve Rogers, for days on end until he had enough information. The Asset stalked back to the location he was supposed to meet his handlers. Maybe after he completed the entire mission, they would be pleased with him.
Steve pulled the cover back up over him, preparing to fall back into a slumber, in hopes that he could return to his dreams.
Steve hates waking up.