Nightmares and Daydreams
Sep. 24th, 2012 06:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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justindulgemeMaybe it's because of the ocean sounds that Steve just can't sleep soundly.
He's usually quite good at staying over in unfamiliar places, relaxing in even the most uncomfortable conditions, but tonight his usual ease is elusive. He lays awake past midnight listening to the settling of the house, to the waves and the dull sound of the girls watching a movie elsewhere in the house, of Tony working on something instead of sleeping across the hall.
He tries counting, measured breathing, lying in different positions, tossing away his pillow and then adding an extra one. Nothing helps so he sprawls onto his stomach again and tries to push aside the lousy over-stuffed feeling in his brain. Staring into the wall, the weight of a long day pulling at his body, he does finally become bored and exhausted enough to drift off, but his dozing isn't very restful.
He's always a breath away from waking, the faintest noise disrupting him, or worse, nosing it's way into his awareness without fully rousing him. He lays a while in this fitful state of exhaustion warring with hyper awareness, drifting between awake and dreaming, before the movie ends, the ocean calms, Tony crawls in to sleep, and finally, finally, it's quiet enough for Steve to fall deeply into rest.
He's out perhaps an hour before the nightmare starts.
It's a familiar moment, one he's relived more than enough times already, but every once in a while when something else is bothering him that old wound aches like new and this is what he sees when he closes his eyes. Bucky slipping away from him, Bucky shrinking smaller as he falls...
Steve's motions feel sluggish, weak, too slow, and it seems that his friend's fingers slip from his grip faster than ever...
There's a stab of pain in his wrist, a jolt as his side smacks into something hard, and Steve wakes up shouting on the floor beside his bed, surrounded by the wreckage of his toppled side table and broken lamp.
He's usually quite good at staying over in unfamiliar places, relaxing in even the most uncomfortable conditions, but tonight his usual ease is elusive. He lays awake past midnight listening to the settling of the house, to the waves and the dull sound of the girls watching a movie elsewhere in the house, of Tony working on something instead of sleeping across the hall.
He tries counting, measured breathing, lying in different positions, tossing away his pillow and then adding an extra one. Nothing helps so he sprawls onto his stomach again and tries to push aside the lousy over-stuffed feeling in his brain. Staring into the wall, the weight of a long day pulling at his body, he does finally become bored and exhausted enough to drift off, but his dozing isn't very restful.
He's always a breath away from waking, the faintest noise disrupting him, or worse, nosing it's way into his awareness without fully rousing him. He lays a while in this fitful state of exhaustion warring with hyper awareness, drifting between awake and dreaming, before the movie ends, the ocean calms, Tony crawls in to sleep, and finally, finally, it's quiet enough for Steve to fall deeply into rest.
He's out perhaps an hour before the nightmare starts.
It's a familiar moment, one he's relived more than enough times already, but every once in a while when something else is bothering him that old wound aches like new and this is what he sees when he closes his eyes. Bucky slipping away from him, Bucky shrinking smaller as he falls...
Steve's motions feel sluggish, weak, too slow, and it seems that his friend's fingers slip from his grip faster than ever...
There's a stab of pain in his wrist, a jolt as his side smacks into something hard, and Steve wakes up shouting on the floor beside his bed, surrounded by the wreckage of his toppled side table and broken lamp.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-30 01:21 am (UTC)Desire? Yes. Respect, even? Sure. But affection? For Steve Rogers.
"Are you in your right head now?"
He doesn't need this to end in sex. He was having a pretty good time making out.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-30 03:08 am (UTC)He nods, turning to put his back to the rail and conscientiously trying not to cross his arms as is his usual instinct. He doesn't want to come off defensive, and keeps his thumbs hooked in his pockets.
He takes in Tony's posture, the warmth in his smile, and can't help smiling a little back.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-30 01:17 pm (UTC)He means it, too. Standing up straight doesn't really increase his height enough to tower over Steve as he might like to, but it's all right. He's gotten over the fact that the twenty-four year old soldier is just more physically impressive than he is.
Except, perhaps, for his hands.
Tony holds his own out and when Steve takes it -- or he takes it for the blond -- he weighs and examines the digits lightly pressing against his own before he tugs it, arm and all, around his waist. A kiss like this is not as sexy as one given while crawling all over each other, but it's probably a little more Steve's speed.
The man will have to learn to appreciate Tony's lack of restraint another time.
and then finally I tagged you back like a snail-boss
Date: 2012-10-09 04:21 am (UTC)But it's far from unpleasant, and Steve tries to force himself to relax about it, to remind himself that liking this is alright, that DOING this is alright, and that even if it wasn't no one is here to judge him for it but Tony and maybe Jarvis...
The slower pace DOES suit him though and he sighs as Tony's fingers find purchase on his shoulder, his arm settled around the other man's waist coiling tighter to press him close. Steve's head tilts to slant their mouths together, deepening their kiss with a testing nip of Tony's lower lip between his teeth.
Steve doesn't really KNOW what he's doing, but being willing to take risks has rarely steered him wrong, especially where Tony is concerned....
no subject
Date: 2012-10-10 12:03 am (UTC)Just a man that needs what all men need.
Someone else.
He's on his heels again, stepping back, his arms leaving their high up position around Steve's shoulders. He looks back out over the ocean. He clears his throat.
"What do you want?"
Countless hours drawing him. Comforting him. Sharing moments like fire walks and glass pathways with him. They have a history. Tony wants to tear his hair out about it sometimes. But he's so alone, even with Steve Rogers so close to him.
He makes Tony realize how lonely he is.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-10 01:37 am (UTC)The question posed to him is too broad for his momentarily narrowed scope and it takes him a second to come up with anything resembling a good answer.
"Right now? Could go for more of that." He brings one large hand up to wrap around Tony's jaw. "Later? I don't know..."
no subject
Date: 2012-10-10 01:55 am (UTC)This is vacation, right? Last weekend of the season. Aren't they suppose to have fun on vacation?
"Let me know when you figure it out," he breathes, spending the better part of an hour like a teenager, wrapped up in the ocean breeze and a pretty blond sucking face until his lips are bruised.
That, and nothing more.
And it's delicious. Okay, and just a little sticky too.