With the light off and both of them settled, still, and quiet, something peaceful descends over them. There's a quiet whirring of the air conditioner's fan running beneath the window, circulating air and taking the edge off of the silence. There are gentle inhales and exhales from the pair of them. There's a soft blanket of darkness, a companionable quiet.
Eventually, hours pass. Eventually, they sleep.
Eventually, Bucky's dreams become disjointed and violent. Ugly and electric, filled with screams and straps and harshly barked Russian.
"желание ржавый семнадцать рассвет печь девять добросердечный возвращение на родину один грузовой вагон."
At quarter past 3 in the morning Steve will wake to a weight pressing onto him, to Bucky straddling him, to a hand on his chest and the gentle point of a knife at his neck. Wild eyed, lost, muttering in panicked Russian, "Почему я здесь? Каковы мои заказы?"
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Eventually, hours pass. Eventually, they sleep.
Eventually, Bucky's dreams become disjointed and violent. Ugly and electric, filled with screams and straps and harshly barked Russian.
Reset him. Prep him. Reset him. Prep him. Reset him, prep him.
"желание ржавый семнадцать рассвет печь девять добросердечный возвращение на родину один грузовой вагон."
At quarter past 3 in the morning Steve will wake to a weight pressing onto him, to Bucky straddling him, to a hand on his chest and the gentle point of a knife at his neck. Wild eyed, lost, muttering in panicked Russian, "Почему я здесь? Каковы мои заказы?"
What are his orders? What is the mission?