[It's not the first time, no - it's almost familiar, by now, although he's usually not sleeping on the other side of the room when it happens, so he can get there faster. Even so, Steve hates the fact that this feels familiar, it only takes the guilt that sits cold and hard in his gut, the guilt that never quite goes away, and twists it around until he feels sick. He wonders, for the thousandth time, as he shakes Bucky's shoulder, if maybe he shouldn't just tell him. Tell him he knows what's going on. That he wants to help.
But he doesn't know how. It's why he's here. To figure that out. He just thought... he'd have more time, more space to do it.
Even though he wouldn't trade having Bucky here for all the time and the space in the universe.
Steve just stays steady, not moving an inch, when Bucky wakes up. He can grab him as hard as he needs to - and he doesn't try to get Bucky to sit back down yet, either. He just lets him breathe - well, as best he can - and stays still and steady in the dark.] Yeah. It's me.
[He can feel the tension drain away, a little - and he relaxes a fraction, too, but he just stays put. He's just trying to let Bucky get his bearings, because he knows what it's like to wake up and think you were someplace else, with someone else. It can take a minute to remember what's real and what was nightmare. And then you generally remember which parts are a horrible combination of both.
So maybe it's good that it's dark enough that Bucky maybe can't see his face very well, because he probably looks like he's in as much pain as Bucky is, and he knows that's not helping. When Bucky closes his eyes, Steve tries to get his own expression under control.] Look, it happens. Don't worry about it.
[No, leave that to Steve, because he's worrying enough to feel sick. And he doesn't know what else to do, other than to tell Bucky it's okay, it happens, and he's okay, he's here, and not wherever he thought he was.] You want some water? [Although even if Bucky says yes, Steve isn't moving until he feels like Bucky's okay on his own. Honestly, just having Bucky's hand on his shoulder is probably as comforting for him as it is for Bucky.]
Spam no idea <<
But he doesn't know how. It's why he's here. To figure that out. He just thought... he'd have more time, more space to do it.
Even though he wouldn't trade having Bucky here for all the time and the space in the universe.
Steve just stays steady, not moving an inch, when Bucky wakes up. He can grab him as hard as he needs to - and he doesn't try to get Bucky to sit back down yet, either. He just lets him breathe - well, as best he can - and stays still and steady in the dark.] Yeah. It's me.
[He can feel the tension drain away, a little - and he relaxes a fraction, too, but he just stays put. He's just trying to let Bucky get his bearings, because he knows what it's like to wake up and think you were someplace else, with someone else. It can take a minute to remember what's real and what was nightmare. And then you generally remember which parts are a horrible combination of both.
So maybe it's good that it's dark enough that Bucky maybe can't see his face very well, because he probably looks like he's in as much pain as Bucky is, and he knows that's not helping. When Bucky closes his eyes, Steve tries to get his own expression under control.] Look, it happens. Don't worry about it.
[No, leave that to Steve, because he's worrying enough to feel sick. And he doesn't know what else to do, other than to tell Bucky it's okay, it happens, and he's okay, he's here, and not wherever he thought he was.] You want some water? [Although even if Bucky says yes, Steve isn't moving until he feels like Bucky's okay on his own. Honestly, just having Bucky's hand on his shoulder is probably as comforting for him as it is for Bucky.]