Sleep-walk Living
Steve only woke again when the car came to a complete stop and the engine was shut off. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but the sun looked as if it was about to break along the treetops; looking out of the window of the car he didn’t even recognize his surroundings. Trees were all around him from inside the small clearing that the car had come to stop in. He turned to look at James, who looked completely exhausted. Still in Steve’s iron grip was his copy of Leaves of Grass; it had been so stupid to go back for it, dangerous. But Steve was glad that he had. James took a deep breath before undoing his seat belt and stepping out of the car. Steve didn’t know what else to do so he followed suit. The cool of the outside air immediately hit his bare skin, making him realize right away that he was only in his pajama pants and nothing else. There had been no time to change or find a shirt to pull over himself as they were trying to escape his apartment. He also didn't have anytime to be embarrassed or to try and cover his noticeable ribs from James.
“Come on, this way. I have clothing inside.” James spoke while glancing wearily the way that they had come. They quickly walked down an untidy, man-made trail toward another thick wall of trees. Every few steps Steve could feel small twigs and pebbles digging into his bare feet. After a few moments of walking, they came to a clearing. Steve saw a small cabin come into view. A small porch had a short bench, big enough only for two people and dark curtains were drawn across all the front windows.
“What is this place?” Steve asked, butterflies curling all along the inside of his stomach. James stopped just in front of the porch steps.
“This is where I live when I’m not on mission. No one knows about it but Nat. We’ll be safe.” Safe, the word brought both comfort and fear to Steve’s mind. He gave nodding approval toward James to continue inside, the prospect of getting some warm clothing was clouding his thought process. James unlocked the front door, the old slab of wood moved with much resistance, but Steve followed James inside still. He stood in the middle of a dimly lit room, the only light was filtering through two sky lights built into the ceiling. A fireplace on the far end of the room was dormant and had an empty mantel above it; it had clearly been some time since James had been here. A long time since he had needed a reason to escape from someone or something. The rest of the room consisted of dark wood walls and a couch that was the very definition of lived in, the arms on either side looked like they had been torn by a small animal. Steve wanted to ask but James was no longer standing in the room with him, he had walked away down a long hallway, Steve only assumed there was a bedroom down there. Minutes later, James came back through the hallway with a shirt and a sweatshirt in his hands.
He walked towards Steve, the creaking of the floorboards was the only music between them. Steve took the clothing as it was offered to him, but he still didn’t know how to break the ice. James stood quietly for a moment until he realized that neither of them knew what to say or do. So, he turned and started walking back down the hall and into the washroom to clean up. Steve just continued to stand in the living room, holding the clothes and wondering to himself on what to do. He pulled the shirt and sweatshirt over his himself, it was much bigger than he was used to. The hem cascading over his hips and the sleeves rolled down over his fingers just as he liked. He could hear the spray and splash of water coming from down the hall. He sat down on the love seat that faced the large fireplace and he just listened. Though he fell asleep in the car at some point during the escape, he felt exhaustion throughout his entire body. His eyelids felt heavy but still he listened to the soothing sound of water and the knowing that James was just in the other room; he was content in just listening. Eventually the droll sound of water eventually stopped.
Steve hadn’t expected to be entertained when they arrived at the cabin, but this was the longest that he had been in James’ presence; he was hoping he would at least learn a little bit more about him. Not to be left to his own devices. On this very couch he imagined countless nights of James falling asleep unexpectedly after a mission, fire glowing low, instead of making it into his actual bed; the threads were well worn and comfortable. Steve let his mind run away from him until he heard the soft click of a door opening down the hall. The figure of the person he had grown to recognize as James lurked in the doorway for a long time until walking down into the living room.
He stood there in front on him, Steve realized that he hadn’t known how long he had been sitting out there thinking about anything and everything that crossed his mind but now, he had James in front of him again. He let his mind jump back to both of them alone in his bed before the attack occurred and they were viciously interrupted. He suddenly didn’t feel cold anymore, he felt warm all over and ready for whatever would come next. James stood in front of him, still as a statue, the only thing to be heard between them was the sound of their breathing. He didn’t think himself to be an awkward person until this moment, he couldn’t think of a thing to say to James. He looked up into his deep, dark eyes and the silence around them was thick. James took a deep breath in and held his hand out towards Steve.
Steve looked at the large hand for a moment, it looked so much bigger than his; stronger. He lifted his own and slid it gently against the callous skin of James’ palm until James’ fingers enclosed on his. A smile played against Steve’s lips as James pulled him up off the couch and started leading him down the hallway. When they entered the room, which Steve guessed was James’, the scent of Sandalwood and old books hit him. Though it was bright as day outside there were heavy curtains on the windows, making it just about as dark as night inside James’ room. There was a candle lit on a desk that was opposite the bed. Steve looked at the bed, it was large and covered in thick comforters and multiple plush pillows and everything about it looked heavenly and welcoming. James let go of his hand for a moment and started walking towards the bedside lamp to turn it on.
“Wait.” Steve said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard in the silent room. James stopped and looked towards him. His small frame was illuminated from the light in the hallway, giving him a glow that made it impossible for James to look away. In certain lights, at certain times, Steve looked just like the Steve that James remembered all those years ago. He wasn’t the Nomad; he wasn’t a fugitive; he was just little Stevie from Brooklyn. Surrounded by books and dripping with good intention, the Steve that he had fallen in love with.
“I like the dark.” Steve said quietly, walking further into the room and stopped at one side of the bed. James watched him, silently cataloging his every move. They looked at each other for a moment, alone in the darkness of this hideaway and Steve understood why he was brought into the bedroom. He slipped onto the bed and got under the covers. The comfort of the mattress, the thick comforter and the plush pillows were enough to lull Steve into a deep sleep immediately. He would have done so as well if he hadn’t felt the dip of the mattress beside him; James had gotten into bed beside him. He tried to still the beating of his heart as he listened to the rustling of fabric and the creaking of the bed frame underneath James’ movement. There was a long silence surrounding them after James seemed to settle into place.
“I’m not him but…” Steve said, a near whisper. It echoed their conversation when they were alone in Steve’s bed, before they were attacked and chased out of Brooklyn. Steve could hear James catch his breath and hold it for a moment. Waiting to see if Steve would continue his thought.
“Do you still love me?” Time around them froze. Not do you still love him, but do you still love me? The current version of Steve Rogers. Could this modern, mechanical version of James still love this new version of Steve; with no memories of them as they were before. Steve’s back was facing James, which is possibly where his bravery came from, he didn’t have to look James in the eye. Steve let himself absorb the moment into his memory, he closed his eyes just as he felt strong arms loop around his waist and a warm body lightly press against his back. Chapped lips came close to stop right beside his ear as James spoke softly.
“I remember surprising you one weekend, when I wasn’t working with tickets to the New York World’s Fair. I think the year was…1939 but really it could have been later than that, the timeline escapes me now. They had just built the parachute jump and you wanted nothing more than to try it. We took the bus out to the City that night but when we got there, they wouldn’t let you on the ride. The jerk running the line said you looked to sick…” James was clearly speaking from stream of consciousness, remembering bits and pieces as he continued on. Steve slowly slipped his arm around James, so that their fingers rested against each other. They were continuing their dance from earlier in the evening, before their violent interruption.
“I could see on your face just how upset you were, usually you would jump into a fight but this time you were quiet. I was about to jump in for you and give that guy a piece of my mind, but you turned to look at me and just said ‘let’s go get some cotton candy, Buck.’ So calm. I couldn’t help but smile and go along with it. Every year and every month, every day I fell for you just a little bit more. We turned around and walked back towards the concession stands and spent all the rest of our money on hot dogs.” Steve couldn’t help but laugh a bit. He could feel the rumble from within James’ ribs against his back; Steve wondered if it hurt him to reminisce about the way they used to be in their original timeline.
“Even back then you loved Whitman. You would always stay up late and wait for me to get back from work so that you could read me another section of Leaves of Grass. When I think of his words, I think of us. Our story, our fragmented timeline. How we ended up back in Brooklyn, like we were still looking for each other.” James’ voice trailed off and even though Steve could feel a swelling in his chest at his words, his eyelids were fluttering open and closed. Just before his body wandered completely to sleep, he heard James speak once more; his arms pulling him tighter across his chest.
“So yes, yes I still love you. I love you like it’s 1939.” Their collective warmth surrounded them, and they were pulled into unconsciousness. Separate in their dreams but finally together again in time.