juststeverogers | Evening of the First Night--- for heirtothearcane and westfallcorndog

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Evening of the First Night--- for heirtothearcane and westfallcorndog

Steve is much more careful in the way he eats than Harrow was, mostly because Viatorus' clothes are very nice and he doesn't want to make a mess of them. The soup is as good as it smelled, and Steve is glad Harrow liked it. Having working taste buds again must be weird for him.

When he's finished, he looks between Harrow and Viatorus carefully. They have a point. It has gotten rather late since all of this started. Between the panic and the running around, Steve hadn't really noticed it. But it was already dark when he'd gone to get the udon.

"What would you prefer I do?" He asks Viatorus quietly. "If it were my body, I'd grab a shower and get to bed, but...is that allowed? Would you rather I didn't?" To Harrow, Steve nods.

"You don't get a choice in the matter with all the soup. You need to give my body at least a wash." He's laughing while he talks though, so it's clear Steve isn't upset.

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Dreaming? This place? Harrow looks around, confused and yet suspiciously content. When his eyes land on Steve again he laughs quietly, and with it comes a casual shrug. "If this was a dream I couldn't be here. You said you'd show me Brooklyn, remember?" He doesn't remember the exact moment Steve said it, of course, but he believes it to be real. It's been too long since he's had to separate dreams and reality, and this is such a pleasant one, no matter which it is.

He marvels quietly at the bridge, hands in his pockets, and spends a breath imagining the smell of the water and the metal and stone and all the people who make up the city. By the end of his breath they're at a movie theatre. It's so well-suited for movies! The seats are all tiered just slightly, the screen is so big. What a wonderful place to enjoy movies. He imagines how it must feel for the room to be full. Strangers all around in the darkness. Would they talk like they do when he shows movies, or would they keep their thoughts to themselves? Hopefully not the latter.

"Those people who hurt you, are they still here? We could get even," he suggests, his tone as friendly as it was before.

"I don't remember what they look like. I got beat up a lot. After a while all bullies start to look the same." Steve dismisses it with a wave of his hand, though for a brief moment--as though he couldn't help but remembering--there's the alley and the trash can lid sitting at their feet like a discarded shield. Steve's nose is bleeding, he's got a black eye. But there's a yell and a holler from the alley entrance.

"Hey, punk! What'd I tell ya about hanging out back here?" There's worry in the man's voice, and as soon as he trots over he gives Harrow a once over. "You're bringin' tourists home now Stevie?" He extents a hand immediately. "James Barnes. You can call me Bucky."

"Or Jerk."

"Stuff it, Rogers."

Steve's hurt? There's a sensation of tension that shakes Harrow into a momentary lucidity, but before he can react the dream is changing again. A man is approaching, and before he even introduces himself Harrow knows who it is. He feels familiar, somehow, like a long lost friend. He's seen him before in Steve's sketchbook on the day they met, but more than that he's aware because Steve is aware. This is Steve's dream, after all, whether Harrow will admit it or not.

"Ha-hey!" Harrow greets, laughing. Something must have changed his perception of himself as a part of his new reality that is Steve's dream; he speaks with his mouth moving and isn't afraid to interact with parts of the world. He swigs his arm wide and comes in for the shake with gusto. "Bucky! Man, how you doin'?"

"I see my reputation precedes me." Bucky's everything Steve isn't at first glance. Tall, broad shouldered and confident. A crooked grin and an easy to get along with persona. "Harrow, right? Steve's told me all about ya. Thanks for lookin' out for the guy. Punk doesn't know how to stay outta trouble."

"...I did, didn't I?" Steve's smile has turned distant. Remembering Bucky in his normal clothes is hard. Not because Steve can't, but here, seeing his lifelong friend...all he can think about is that he's leaving. "When I couldn't go to sleep. I'd tell you all about my friends. About Verity, and Harrow, and Amelia..."

"Me? Look out for him?" Harrow laughs. He claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder and moves to stand beside him with a good view at Steve. "I think it's the other way around. Steve must be making up for his past. He's the one who keeps me good and honest, man. Guy's ten pounds of morals in a five pound bag."

He goes to laugh but to his surprise finds he can't. A pang of sadness that he can't explain hits him in the chest. Suddenly the things he's feeling are conflicting, confusing, overwhelming. Steve has nights where he can't sleep? The friends he's made in the prison dimension he's trapped in are on his mind in those moments? Bucky has to go away soon. He has to go to war.

A heavy realization slowly forces its weight down on his mind. Six years of undreamt thoughts of war come to bear in a single moment and before he can stop himself the words are tumbling out of his mouth.

"I didn't mean to lie to Steve that you wouldn't die. I didn't mean to lie but we'd just met and he cared about you and I think about that shitty lie all the time, Bucky! All the time! He's gonna get back home and find out you got ground up or blown up or shot up and I didn't mean to lie but I couldn't tell him the truth! So just stay here. Just stay here and don't go! Let's all just stay here. Let's just stay here in Brooklyn. Let's just stay here and... Don't go..."

"Don't worry about it, Harrow. I ain't fixing to die that easy." Bucky smiles again before walking over to Steve and putting both hands on the man's slim shoulders.

"Steve. You can't keep doing this to yourself. It ain't healthy. Coming back here all the time, pretending things ain't the way they are...You gotta wake up, Stevie. Now you're bringing folks with you? You gotta live. I know it ain't home, but you can make it one. I don't think Harrow here wants to see how these dreams end." Bucky gives Harrow a sympathetic smile.

"You know you gotta go, right Steve?"

Bucky is so understanding. But of course he is. He's the ideal friend. Steve wouldn't care so much about him if he weren't such a good man. Despite how frantic Harrow had been a moment ago he finds himself pacified by the calm demeanor of the man and the dream around them.

But he doesn't want to go. Someone's finally taken him to see Earth. He's in New York, for Light's sake! Him! And it's so inviting, and the people are so kind. From where he stands he shakes his head at Steve.

"I wanna stay," he says. "Don't go, Steve. But if you do... I'm staying."

"Steve. Stevie." Bucky pulls Steve into a hug, even as the smaller man is withdrawing, holding himself. "It's not your fault. You didn't do this."

There's something off about the voice. All of the light has left it. It's empty. Rough. Tired. The voice of a man who has been through hell. His left arm is entirely gone, replaced by a metal one. His hair is longer and unkempt. His expressions are muted, but he tries to smile at Harrow and Steve. It's a twitch of his lips and nothing more. Weak. Sad.

"...It's not your fault." The Winter Soldier says, letting go of Steve. He gives Harrowheart a long stare. "He needs you. I'm not there. You are."

Okay, things are getting unsettling now. Harrow looks around, worried, but the Bucky he thought he knew is gone. These new eyes that stare at him are as unliving as any corpse's he's seen. This stranger is in Bucky's place, and there's something beneath his hollow surface that raises the hairs on the back of his neck.

Harrow doesn't break eye contact, but instead follows the advice of the dream ghost. He reaches out for Steve and tries to pull him closer. If they have to run from this man he's not leaving Steve behind.

"...It's Bucky, Harrow." Steve says quietly, standing his ground and meeting the Soldier's gaze. "He's not trying to kill me, or blaming me, so this isn't a nightmare." His own eyes are sad, but strong willed as ever.

"Bucky, huh?" The Soldier shakes his head, but he's not fighting or lashing out. Just standing there watching the pair of them. "Maybe. Somewhere deep down. I know you. That's enough, right?"

"Till the end of the line, pal." Steve finishes, taking Harrow's hand and turning to walk away. "Til the end of the line..." New York is fading in a swirling mess of emotions and shapes, unstable and unsteady as Steve begins losing all control of his dream. He hadn't been able to fully control it, allowing memories and emotions to shape it more than he'd meant to. But he's waking up. Stirring, and then clawing himself into a sitting position as he looks around the strange room.

He's not home. He's--and there, sleeping next to him is his own body. Steve reaches up to touch at his face, and sighs deeply, drawing his long legs up and hugging them close to himself.

Harrow's eyes close tighter before they slowly open. For a long while he doesn't move. He stares at the runes on the top of the bed. There are so many thoughts in his head that he can't consider any of them. His mind is blank. After much hesitation he turns to see who's moving beside him.

Viatorus? He's in bed with Viatorus? Before he can process it a deep wave of shame washes over him. He draws the blankets up defensively until they bump his chin, and that's when he notices his hands.

Peach. Warm. Small. Steve. He's Steve. Steve is V. He took a shower. He's in bed now. Time feels like a blur, but... He hadn't fallen asleep. Had he? He'd just been awake! They had their bodies back. Steve found his portal home. They were touring Brooklyn. He saw the river! He saw the bridge! The school, the room, the theatre, the alley... Bucky. And then the man with the metal arm and the wild hair that Steve thought was his friend.

His chest starts to rise and fall too rapidly. He's breathing out of control. He has to get a hold of himself. Just calm down. Count. Breathe. Slowly.

Slowly...

Calm...

Okay.

He stares at Steve-as-Viatorus, eyes wide. His lips part, but it's a while before he can speak. What should he say? What can he say?

Finally he whispers, his voice as small as it can be, "Is everything okay?"

At first Steve tries to play it off, waving his hand in front of his face as though Harrow hadn't just been invited on a tour into Steve Rogers' head.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Harrow. Everything's fine." And indeed, compared to Steve's usual dreams, this one was downright pleasant. No one got killed or had to watch someone else get hurt or anything like that. But those dreams are a huge part of Steve's problem. He wants so badly to go home, that he craves being asleep, even when he mostly gets nightmares.

Even Steve Rogers has weaknesses aside from his body.

Harrow frowns deeply. Firstly, he can tell that's a lie, but secondly... Light, he really wants to believe it. He rolls over with his back to Steve, but he can't close his eyes. How could he go to sleep now? An uncomfortable sense of longing sits deep in his chest. Frustrated, he breaches the sheets like a whale from the sea and flops back down onto the bed facing Steve.

Ugh. That doesn't help. He doesn't know what to say, how to express himself. He's not even sure what just happened. And it's not like Steve would know. It wasn't like he was actually there. Steve probably had a strange dream in Viatorus's body and they woke up at the same time, he wagers. He's in Steve's body, so of course he's having his dreams... but would it be right to tell him about it? Taking a shower in someone else's body is one thing, but invading a man's inner thoughts is another.

He kicks off the blankets and rolls out of bed.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee or somethin'," he says groggily. "I'm just gonna stay up all night 'cause I'm havin' some weird, sad dreams and I ain't about that shit. You want anything while I'm out?"

Wait.

"You did, too?" Steve rubs at his eyes and then moves to get out of bed and follow Harrow. The poor neglected tea is long since cold and Steve doesn't pay it any mind as he follows Harrow out of the bedroom. "I...I'm sorry. Your first dream since...and it wasn't good? That's unfortunate."

You can't keep doing this to yerself, Stevie.

He shudders and hurries to catch up.

"Let's get Viatorus and see if he's found anything while reading? I think that's what he said he was going to do...." But Viatorus isn't in the apartment. No matter how hard they look he's definitely not there. Or in the trash can why would you even look there. He's not in the pristine and clearly never been used oven, either. What is wrong with you two?

Harrow spends a while getting dressed due to the grogginess, but even when he's ready he doesn't go on the hunt for V like Steve does. Instead he takes a seat in one of the chairs in the living room and gets out his phone to send a text to Viatorus.

Where you at? You OK? Steve and I had bad dreams. Come tell us a bedtime story.

Light, that felt like effort. Being tired is ass. He slips his phone back into his pocket and sighs deeply while staring at the ceiling.

"Is it weird to you how rich V is? Like. This is just one of his houses, and that bed and shower were... Whoof. Kinda made me feel small and worthless since we got here. Or... Maybe it's just on my mind 'cause bein' poor was part of my dream. There was this... This tiny little apartment with one hand-me-down bed for two grown men. Everything felt so close. Kinda makes this place feel too big, y'know?"

Viatorus can't help but sigh when he sees the text. It seems like everyone is having bad dreams tonight... But, wait... Steve drank the tea... he shouldn't have had any dreams at all. Unless... he didn't drink the tea.

Instantly, he feels a rush of panic and hastily types back: I'll be there soon. Stay awake until I get there.

He definitely won't be too long with these long, strong legs.

"...You..had the same dream I did?" Steve stops pacing the apartment and slowly takes a seat on the couch on the other end from Harrowheart. "If I'm being honest, that was one of the better dreams I've had in a long time, if not somewhat sad at the end."

Still, he feels bad for dragging Harrowheart through his dreams unintentionally.

"...I'm glad I was able to show you around, at any rate. It's my home, you know?"

"The sa–..." Wait a minute. "DREAMWALKER! So that's what it means!"

Somehow all of that is a huge relief. He laughs, and he's grateful for the way it washes away some of the tension and frustration inside. The back of his hand wipes away imagined sweat from his brow and he takes a moment to breathe.

"Shoot, Steve. It's still kinda weird. We were in the same damn dream... And all that stuff with Bucky, and – Ah, shoot... The stuff I said there at the end about..." A heavy sigh. "Shoot."

Time to turn the tables here. He's got to put the burden of shame on someone other than himself.

"Why do you imagine him like a sad jungle man with a metal arm? Not that I got anything against folks with metal arms. My brother's got one. Lost it in a harvest golem accident. But I don't figure you see a lot of folks losin' limbs in farmin' accidents in Brooklyn..."

If it weren't for the fact he has to unlock the door, Viatorus would come bursting into the apartment. As soon as he enters, he looks frantically between the two of them. "Are you both alright? Were you on the bed? Were you under the ward?"

"What the hell?!" Steve still looks startled by Viatorus' rush and concern. They ere sleeping, for crying out loud, not fighting bears. "Calm down Viatorus. We're fine." He has no idea Harrow texted the other in the least. He's on his feet, ready to...he doesn't know what. but his fight or flight response is very much triggered right now.

"Nothing happened. I had a dream about my home and accidentally brought Harrowheart I think. We couldn't really figure it out. Calm down, you're freaking me out here. What's going on?"

Harrow chokes on his spit at Viatorus's unexpectedly explosive return, but as soon as he gets a clear breath of air he starts to laugh! He claps his hands like a fool-ass circus seal and looks between Steve and V over and over.

"I forgot to say I texted! V, Steve dreamwalked! It was weird and sad. We were on the bed! We were under the ward. I don't think any demons or nothin' got in."

Oh, wait. Suddenly this isn't so funny. He's gravely serious in an instant. "What... What woulda happened if we weren't under the ward?... Not demons for real, right?..."

Harrowheart's question isn't one he wants to answer, so he frowns and glances at the currently short man, before turning on his heels to go back to his bedroom. He hesitates in the doorway before he steps inside, leaving the door open as he just... stands there. It takes him a minute to realise that... he's not going to feel anything. Even if something was there... everything's distanced. Harrowheart's dead body isn't connected to the world the same way his own is. Before he can help himself he hisses a quiet and worried, "Shit. Shit, shit, shit..."

After a moment to stress, he grabs the teacup, now stone cold, and brings it out. "You were supposed to drink this. You c-can't not drink this." Then he moves to the kitchen, setting the cup down and coming out with a bowl of salt, a couple of bay leaves set in it. After he's set that in his bedroom he comes back out to root out a funny looking bundle of dried up leaves. Suddenly he finally stops all his rushing as he blinks at the thing in his hands. "Oh. I... I can't use magic..." He runs a hand through his hair as he tries to think. "Matches... matches... where would I have put them..."

"Viatorus." Steve moves to get in front of the frantic dream walker. He needs to calm down before Harrow gets into a panic too. Steve can't corral both of them at the same time, especially when his own nerves are fraying spectacularly toward panic himself. "I'm sorry. I feel asleep before you even brought it back. I don't remember you even leaving. We didn't have nightmares, we're both fine. Tell me what we need to do now, to correct whatever I've inadvertently done. I'll apologize as much as you want me to later, but for right now....let's just deal with this calmly and rationally."

He shoots a look to Harrow to make sure the other isn't losing his mind either.

"Okay?"

For his part Harrow's doing just fine. If anything he's quietly curious! Magic, demons, this is stuff he's vaguely familiar with, and it brings him a sense of He inspects the salt and the bay leaves and doesn't say anything until Viatorus is complaining about having no magic.

"You got a lighter in your shirt pocket, remember? My lighter!"

He takes a few steps back and prepares to watch whatever is about to go on. He's going to learn some Earth magic!

Lighter! Right. He fumbles as he searches the shirt he's wearing for a lighter. Then it's a matter of fumbling about until he manages to light the damned thing and set the sage smoking. It's a fairly strong smell and potent smoke. Tucking the lighter away again, he reaches over and waves the sage stick around Steve's head three times in a clockwise motion. It's much easier when he's this tall. "Tell me what happened. I-In your dream? Were you alone? Apart from each other, were you alone? A-And I don't mean dream-things. I don't mean the figures in the dream. I mean, were you alone? Or was there something else? Anything else?"

When he's done that to his own body, he moves to do the same motion around Harrowheart, who is even easier again in Steve's small body.

Evening of the First Night--- for heirtothearcane and westfallcorndog

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The man, the myth, the legend

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Steve played Pokemon, now he's gotta check all garbage cans

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Steve's read Narnia he's not taking any chances with potential magic doors.

Steve actually came to the Nexus after some bullies dunked him in a trash can

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