i will keep calling you to see [closed]

[prespangled]

Who: Steve & Bucky
What: Trying to stay awake during the dreamwalking event.
Where: Their apartment.
When: Latter part of the event.
Warnings: n/a



[Steve's tired of these "gods", their games and their compromises. He's tired of his best friend being compelled to be a murderer, and tired of knowing that he did little more than hug a jar of bugs for days.

Right now he's just tired, period. He doesn't want to have any more dreams. Some of them have things in them that Steve's pretty sure he's got no business seeing. The only alternative seems to be to stay awake for as long as he possibly can.

It's not going very well. Steve's sitting on his bed, Bucky seated on the opposite end and facing him. Unlike Steve, he doesn't seem to be struggling at all, unless the number of times that he's had to nudge him when his chin starts to drop counts.

Steve jerks his head up yet again when he feels Bucky's foot give his shin a light kick, instantly scowling.]

What? I was just resting my eyes.

[Cranky and a terrible liar.]

Comments

[wipedclean]

[He nods, and yeah. He's encouraged.]

Right.

[And with that, he's taking Steve by the hand and pulling him out onto the dance floor.]

[prespangled]

[It's good to see Bucky even entertaining the idea, it means maybe he really is feeling a little more like his old self. Steve waits, curious to see who he'll ask, only to be chosen himself. He's too surprised to speak, his feet moving automatically until they're on the floor.

Steve looks around, but no one else seems to even notice them. His expression is worried when he looks up at the other man, but not for the reasons Bucky might think.]

Are you sure about this? I'm still not gonna be much good.

[wipedclean]

[He shrugs and pulls Steve close, and it takes him a moment before his hands remember where to go.]

Not like I remember anything. You're probably better than I am now.

[Besides. There's no one else here he'd rather dance with.

And that's only partly because Steve's the only person he knows.]

[prespangled]

Does that mean I get to lead?

[It's half a joke to hide the uncertainty, the nervousness. But then he has to ask himself why. It's Bucky who tried to teach him how to dance in the first place, years ago amidst Steve's frustration. He quit it a lot sooner than he gave up those boxing lessons down at the YMCA.

Steve places his hands up on Bucky's shoulders and nods.]

[wipedclean]

[He hesitates. But deep inside, his body remembers what his mind does not, and he starts to awkwardly lead Steve in a slow dance. It's not graceful, it's not that nice, but it's slow and it's meaningful and he looks at Steve, searching for approval.]

You're a better partner than I deserve.

[prespangled]

[Bucky used to be just about the best on any dance floor, the kind of partner that girls dreamed of. Now he seems less sure of himself. Between that and the song, Steve can actually keep up. Between everything, he expects people to be staring, but when he glances around he sees that everyone's eyes are on their own partners.]

That's not true, Buck. You deserve a lot of nice things.

[He meets his eyes, smirking gently.]

But you'd better not try to dip me.

[wipedclean]

I don't.

[But that's awfully nice of Steve to say. The corners of his mouth quirk in the hint of a smile.]

What about lifting you?

[prespangled]

Okay, but only because asked me first.

[And because it might be nice to feel taller for a change.]

[wipedclean]

[The soldier smiles for real this time, and he puts his hands on Steve's waist to lift him in the air as high as he can, just up and down simply, gently, gracefully.]

How was the weather up there?

[prespangled]

[Bucky manages it like he's as light as a feather, which he might as well be. Steve doesn't let himself feel insulted or miffed about it, not this time, not in a dream where everything's so nice. He just laughs at the question.]

It must be true what they say about higher altitudes being colder. I could swear I felt frost nipping at my ears.

[wipedclean]

[He actually laughs at that, feeling lighter than he's ever felt, and he's about to respond when he feels a tugging at his chest.

It's an odd feeling. He looks down, frowning.

The tug happens again, harder, more insistent. He's pulled back a few steps.

Suddenly and inexplicably terrified, he steps forward and wraps his arms around Steve, hugging him close, hugging him tight.

But the tug happens a third time, and he's ripped away, down, the floor falling away beneath his feet and the party melting into nonexistence, the music slowly overwhelmed by the sounds of screams.

He falls into a deep, black pit, and lands right in the chair, shirtless, cold, and surrounded by faceless doctors and technicians.

The halo was lowering.]

[prespangled]

Buck?

[Bucky's arms are like a vice around him. He doesn't understand what's happening, but the dance is clearly coming to an end. Steve winds his arms around Bucky's torso, like he can keep Bucky held against him from sheer determination.

It's not enough. Steve hears the screams behind him, turning in a slow motion that only exists in dreams. He screams Bucky's name, but his voice is swallowed up, and there's a wall of doctors between him and his friend.]

Get the hell away from him!

[wipedclean]

[Steve's there.

Why is Steve there he can't be there.

They'll get him. They'll get him.

He leans forward, struggles against his restraints.]

Steve... Stevie, you gotta get out of here, don't let them get you!

[But gloved hands shove him back into the chair and force the rubber bit in his mouth and he's reduced to frantic sounds as he struggles, and the headpiece fastens itself around his face and sends thousands of volts of electricity through his brain and all that's left are the screams and the pain.]

[prespangled]

I'm not leaving you!

[That's not how they operate. Bucky's never left him behind, not in the back alleys of Brooklyn and not in Hadriel's caves. Steve pushes forward, tries to squeeze between the white coats. His eyes hold more fear than they ever have. Bucky's screams hurt him worse than anything ever has.]

What are you bastards doing to him! Let him go!

[wipedclean]

[It doesn't actually last long, but it always feels like it lasts forever.

And of course, because this is a nightmare, it doesn't quite happen like it does in real life.

The wipe ends, and he's roughly pulled from the chair and thrown onto the ground. Abruptly, the faceless technicians and doctors disappear, and so does the chair. They're left alone in an empty space, defined only by the circle of light surrounding them.

He's on his hands and knees, shaking.]

[prespangled]

Buck-

[He stumbles, his palms and knees unscathed when they hit the nothingness in front of Bucky. Steve cups his face, lifts his head up.]

Bucky? Look at me, say something. [Steve slides closer to slip his arm around his shoulders, or as much as he can.] I'm here, okay?

[wipedclean]

[His eyes are wild, and his mouth shapes words but no sound comes out. He stares through Steve like he's not even there. All there is, is the harsh buzzing of pain and emptiness in his head.

And then, out of the darkness, someone starts to speak Russian in slowly, carefully enunciated words.

He twitches and his eyes slide shut.]

[prespangled]

Just breathe, okay? [It's a strange role-reversal, Steve searching for Bucky's hand and placing it against his own chest so that Bucky can feel how he breathes, hoping that he'll match it.

Steve's posture goes rigid when he hears that unfamiliar voice and even stranger words. He looks around for the speaker, but sees only the darkness.]

Buck...c'mon, we need to get out of here.

[Steve tries to stand, tries to pull Bucky up with him. Of course it doesn't work.]

[wipedclean]

[The voice stops speaking, and for a moment there's silence. He ignores the way Steve's tugging at him.

Good morning, Soldier.

He stands up. Suddenly he's wearing his full body armor, black leather and half-mask and all, and he's staring off into the distance.]

Ready to comply.

[The voice returns, speaking in English.

Kill Steve Rogers.

He turns his gaze to Steve, staring at him, through him. There's a gun in his hand. He's pointing it at Steve.

Kill him. Kill Steve Rogers. Kill Steve. He is the mission. Complete the mission. You are the weapon. You are the fist of Hydra. You will bring about the new world order. You are doing great work for mankind.

The words are soft, persistent.

He pulls the trigger. Because he is a good Soldier.]

[prespangled]

What? What're you saying?

[Because now Bucky's speaking in that language too. (Russian? He's not sure how he knows, but it sounds Russian.) But then there's a return to English, for better or worse, and again Steve looks around for the source. What he would do if he found it...well, he has no idea. But he'd fight it somehow.

Bucky is the only thing he can't fight, or won't, so when he sees that gun aimed at him, he does nothing at all. He knows he's Bucky's mission, or will be someday. The bullet slams into Steve's body, and he falls to the ground as quick as a house of cards.

But he gets back up again, even as the blood is spreading across his stomach like the blooming of some too-red flower. It seems simple: they want to use Bucky as a weapon, make him a murderer. All Steve has to do to stop them is...not die.]

Pull it again. [Steve's breathing his harsh and his face pale and shiny with sweat.] I could do this all day.

[wipedclean]

[He almost does. But those words reach a part of his head that the wipe and the words apparently couldn't blot out, not completely, and suddenly his mind, blank slate that it is, realizes exactly what's happened. He stops. He freezes. And a look of horror dawns on his face behind his mask.

He drops his gun and pulls off his mask and tosses it aside, revealing his terrified expression as he takes a hesitant step forward.]

Steve? Steve... no... no.

[There's an overwhelming pressure in his head, just behind his eyes, and it hurts, and the whispers persist, be a good soldier be a good weapon kill him kill him kill him complete the mission he is the mission kill him but he takes another step and drops to his knees, reaching out for his bleeding friend.]

No...

[prespangled]

[Steve sees the recognition, Bucky returning to himself, and only then does he fall to his knees, the warm life gushing out of him. But he keeps falling, falls until his back slams against the mattress.

He wakes in a cold sweat, gasping and twisting in what he discovers is Bucky's embrace. His friend is wearing the same look of anguish that he had in the dream, and Steve urgently tries to wake him.]

Bucky, hey, wake up. Come on, you gotta wake up now.

[wipedclean]

[Steve falls away from him, slips through his fingers, melts away. He falls to his knees, reaching out, grasping at thin air.

For a moment there is nothing but a void.

Then, there is nothing but ultimate anguish.

Then, he wakes up with a gasp, Steve shaking him, and before he can even process it, he's out of bed, back up against the farthest wall.

He's shaking, and he slides down to the floor, head in his hands.

He's a weapon. He can't protect Steve. Not from anything. Not from himself.]

[prespangled]

[Steve watches him for a moment before he slides out of bed and crawls over to where Bucky's pressed against the wall.]

Hey. [Steve reaches a hand out to pet his hair, hoping to soothe him in some way.] It was just a dream. All of it.

[wipedclean]

[He's caught between longing for Steve's touch and being afraid of it. He's dangerous. Too dangerous.]

Stay... stay away.

[He can't protect Steve. Not from himself.]