{ steve has nightmares. and, yes, okay - they all do, in their own way. their own ghosts follow them from each darkness and sometimes even into each sunrise. it's part of the job, an occupational hazard, but sam has worked with enough veterans and and soldiers to know it's anything but normal. it can be the guys down at the va, or it can be captain america, or it can be any of them that fall somewhere in between.
sam has nightmares too. of bodies falling out of the sky - sometimes it's riley, sometimes it's rhodey. bodies, without wings, falling and falling and hitting the ground, hard. he wakes up with a start and can't get rid of the cold chill down his spine, and when he finally gets up to make coffee, steve is already there. already awake. already getting to work. he might be a super soldier, but sam has a sinking suspicion he still has to sleep, and then suddenly sam's own nightmares aren't as suffocating anymore, knowing he has a captain to watch out for instead.
they dropped bucky off a week ago. and yes, sam has his own reservations about the whole wakanda situation, though none of them have to do with what they could do with the winter soldier programming. but that's not their problem anymore. not something they could fix, and therefore couldn't focus on too much. so sam moves onto the next step, the next problem, the fact they're both fugitives and have to figure out their next move. their next place to go. it helps to have a next project, a goal to work towards. they're both the type of guys who need something to do. steve focuses on their next step. sam, focuses on steve. on reminding him the same things that sam needs reminding of every now and then.
that they're more than the uniform. more than the shield. steve doesn't have the shield anymore, and sam wonders if that weighs on him in the same way being a fugitive does. so sam pushes forward, like he always does. keeps it light. keeps them moving. steve does most of the planning, most of the scouting, most of the procuring of the safe houses and the food and the cars he hotwires and then leaves behind, with a full tank of gas and a carwash and a freaking note sent to the owners of where to find it. sam, meanwhile, takes care of the living part of it all. the food they eat for dinner, the houses they sleep in. flirting with the girl at the cafe down the street so that she doesn't remember a car going missing but does remember a charming man who complimented her dress.
tonight - they're in munich. or outside of munich. sam never really liked germany all that much (he assumed probably wasn't steve's favorite either) but they're making it work. can make this work. or at least - he can when the freaking stove works. sam is in the kitchen, but it's a small enough apartment that he and steve can still chat. ]
Sounds good to me. Maybe we can find some more pots and pans. HYDRA had to eat too, right? [ there is a bump, and sam curses under his breath, ducking down to try and tighten on of the ancient hoses connecting the gas to the stove. ]
I am not trying to get it to work, I am going to get it to work. [ another grunt, another ping, another curse. sam huffs and drops the wrench they'd found on the counter, frustratedly wiping off his hands with a washcloth. ] This is ridiculous. It shouldn't be this hard to fix an ancient stovetop. And I'm tired of bad takeout, so don't start that with me either.
one day I'll wear it all on my sleeve; the insignificant with the sacred unique;
sam has nightmares too. of bodies falling out of the sky - sometimes it's riley, sometimes it's rhodey. bodies, without wings, falling and falling and hitting the ground, hard. he wakes up with a start and can't get rid of the cold chill down his spine, and when he finally gets up to make coffee, steve is already there. already awake. already getting to work. he might be a super soldier, but sam has a sinking suspicion he still has to sleep, and then suddenly sam's own nightmares aren't as suffocating anymore, knowing he has a captain to watch out for instead.
they dropped bucky off a week ago. and yes, sam has his own reservations about the whole wakanda situation, though none of them have to do with what they could do with the winter soldier programming. but that's not their problem anymore. not something they could fix, and therefore couldn't focus on too much. so sam moves onto the next step, the next problem, the fact they're both fugitives and have to figure out their next move. their next place to go. it helps to have a next project, a goal to work towards. they're both the type of guys who need something to do. steve focuses on their next step. sam, focuses on steve. on reminding him the same things that sam needs reminding of every now and then.
that they're more than the uniform. more than the shield. steve doesn't have the shield anymore, and sam wonders if that weighs on him in the same way being a fugitive does. so sam pushes forward, like he always does. keeps it light. keeps them moving. steve does most of the planning, most of the scouting, most of the procuring of the safe houses and the food and the cars he hotwires and then leaves behind, with a full tank of gas and a carwash and a freaking note sent to the owners of where to find it. sam, meanwhile, takes care of the living part of it all. the food they eat for dinner, the houses they sleep in. flirting with the girl at the cafe down the street so that she doesn't remember a car going missing but does remember a charming man who complimented her dress.
tonight - they're in munich. or outside of munich. sam never really liked germany all that much (he assumed probably wasn't steve's favorite either) but they're making it work. can make this work. or at least - he can when the freaking stove works. sam is in the kitchen, but it's a small enough apartment that he and steve can still chat. ]
Sounds good to me. Maybe we can find some more pots and pans. HYDRA had to eat too, right? [ there is a bump, and sam curses under his breath, ducking down to try and tighten on of the ancient hoses connecting the gas to the stove. ]
I am not trying to get it to work, I am going to get it to work. [ another grunt, another ping, another curse. sam huffs and drops the wrench they'd found on the counter, frustratedly wiping off his hands with a washcloth. ] This is ridiculous. It shouldn't be this hard to fix an ancient stovetop. And I'm tired of bad takeout, so don't start that with me either.