ohnofeelings | Can you hear the war inside my head

In his dreams, Bucky was still at war. Sleep, when it came, was never a peaceful reprieve. It always started out fine. Things were quiet, darkness crept in around the edges, the tension in his muscles finally began to ease and loosen enough for him to breathe like an ordinary human being. Then came the dreams. The deafening clash and bang of not distant enough warfare. The flash of gunpowder and explosions. The clatter of shells on the ground and the smell of singed flesh, snow, copper and iron.

It wasn't the same as being back in the war. Somehow it was worse. Inescapable and inevitable. No matter how much the phantom flashes of pain or the terror of relived nightmares chilled his heart and froze the marrow in his bones, it never ended. Death would be a respite from this hellish torment. Not that Bucky had become suicidal, but he knew he would not die here in his dreams. He knew, and still each time he woke, drenched and gasping for air. His chest too tight, his skin too cold and his head too full of war.

He had seen men shot in front of him, blown to pieces by the terror of a rolling war machine, experienced torture at the hands of the enemy before a freak explosion allowed him and a handful of men to escape, battered and bloody, but the real damage wasn't on the outside of their skin.

This particular night, his nightmares needed no images. Darkness and the frigid cold of a solid table beneath his back. The screams in his head were not of his fellow soldiers. They were his. Horrible and desperate sounds of a dying animal who knows its time has come but still fights it with every last shred of its will.

His throat closed up in his sleep, his heart pounding so fast it hurt. Bucky groaned in his sleep, nonsense words half-mumbled and half spoken tumbling from his lips. Rank. Name. Unit. Rank. Name. Unit. Rank. Name. Unit. He tossed and squirmed, a protest from his lips, half strangled by his own panic attack, woke him with a start. He jolted to a seated position, lungs straining as he gasped for air, hands white with the force of his grip on the blanket that had been covering him. Deep, heaving breaths left his shoulders shaking, eyes wide and darting around the darkness of the room. Braced for pain, for interrogation and even the death he knew would cruelly evade him.

He had no concept of where he was, not even seeing the room with his eyes as wide as they were. Not seeing anything at all, but lost in his mind's terror. His hair, longer now since coming home from the war, stuck to his head, damp with sweat. Adrenaline flooded his system and left him hard wired even in the heavy exhaustion that hung over him, a dead weight he couldn't shake.

They might have taken Bucky out of the war, but no one could take the war out of Bucky.

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Bucky caught Steve's line of sight. He still wasn't sure what was going on with them. What all of this would mean and how to handle it. Everything became a mess if he stopped to think about it for too long. He started to worry about what it would do to their friendship. Started to try and process what Steve was expecting from him. He knew that Steve would never do something like this without a lot of real emotion behind it. Emotion he had misread and missed. For how long...?

What he was sure of, was that it had felt good to kiss Steve. Whether that was how long he had been without that kind of physical contact, or because it was Steve he still wasn't sure.

Well. There was one way to start to try to find out.

He leaned in, leaving a chance for Steve to stop him or back out. Then his lips were going for Steve's again.

It wouldn't surprise him if sometime later, Bucky already had everything figured out in regards to how Steve felt. He thought he'd masked it well over the years, and he was certain of it. Between Bucky being gone for two years and Steve absolutely desperate to help him now that he was back... well. Bucky was smart, and when that conversation happened, Steve wasn't going to lie to him.

When Bucky started to lean in, Steve did too, meeting his halfway. Steve kissed him gently, much the same as before. There was no intent behind it apart from just kissing. He was enjoying it all, from Bucky's lips against his to the fluttery feeling in his gut.

As much as he liked this, he was still had no intention of rushing into anything. This was still weird, and until he actually got the gumption to talk about things for real, that wouldn't change. At the moment he was assuming Bucky was either humouring him with this or indulging because of the lack of going out to me girls. Figured it was likely not any more than that. But at the moment, he was fine with it.

Bucky wasn't ready for anything more than this. It was nice, but he still had no idea where he stood in all this. Too surprised and confused to know hois own feelings. Steve was easier to figure out than his own head.

Still. He wanted this right now. Whatever that meant for later, he would find out then. For now he just wanted to enjoy the moment and the closeness to Steve that it gave him.

He kept the kiss light. It never shifted into some hungry, desperate battle for dominance or need to lose himself in it. It was just a long, slow series of kissing that bordered on being a shade awkward. Again, only if he thought about it, which he was trying desperately not to do.

He had one hand on the back of Steve's head by the time he pulled away, where his fingers had been curling and uncurling against she short clipped hairs there. He licked his own lips when he pulled away just enough to breathe easier, his breathing coming in soft pants.

It was still... strange. Kissing Steve. But not in a bad way. Just in a way that left him still confused when it ended.

It was good for Steve that it didn't get farther than this. His own standards aside, it allowed for practise. For what and for whom? He didn't know, and he wasn't letting his mind go there. It mostly just meant that whenever he did kiss someone again, he wouldn't be bad at it. Bucky said he was a natural, sure, but at least having a little bit of experience would give him confidence in that area.

The hand that had once been on Bucky's neck rested on his cheek. He idly stroked his thumb over the other man's cheekbone, while the rest of his focus was on the kissing and savouring it for the duration.

One thing he would have to do was either remember to breathe during or break kisses long enough to take a breath. His lungs weren't exactly strong, after all, and he was back to panting heavily. He didn't mind it in the least; he was able to easily catch his breath and all. He didn't pull away to do that, though. He was still rather close to Bucky, all things considered.

He just didn't know what to do. Or say. Was there anything he could say? Admitting this was weird, or this was nice, or verbally mentioning it at all just seemed odd, so he opted to just look at him as he started breathing more regularly.

Bucky wasn't ready for talking just yet, anyway. After a few minutes he shifted down a little more, letting go of Steve's wrist just to wrap an arm around him. He didn't pull him closer, but he shifted so Steve had room to move in closer if he wanted to. There were still a good few hours left until morning and much as Bucky hated the prospect of slipping back into his nightmares, he was willing to risk it with Steve's warmth so close to him.

"It is kind of cold."

It was the only response he had, and he hoped it was enough for Steve to get the invitation to stay. Though he'd understand if the other man wanted to move away from him. He just felt far more relaxed at that moment then he had since arriving back home, and most, if not all, of the reasoning for that.

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Steve scooted closer to Bucky. Despite his previous insistence on staying awake, Steve was still exhausted. Bucky was nice and warm and sleeping next to him would be a lot better than being over in his bed alone. He'd learned to sleep through his own shivering. That had been a hard adjustment over the past couple autumns and winters, and one Steve wasn't going to keep on with if he didn't have to.

He wasn't particularly cold right now, not in comparison to what it'd be like in a month. He was comfortable, though, and there was no need to turn down this invitation.

"You're warm." It was a lame response, but one Steve allowed his exhaustion to leak into as he closed his eyes.

Can you hear the war inside my head

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