queenklu

caladblog:

give me more about sam wilson

talk to me about how he spent three years unlearning hypervigilance only for it all to come roaring back in one afternoon

tell me about the dreams he has with riley falling, with nat falling, with steve falling, and he swoops to catch him but then steve turns into the winter soldier ripping his wings to shreds, rumlow down below beating the shit out of riley’s body, dead and riddled with bullet holes and still begging for mercy, God, please, Sam, please make him stop, tell me about the times he wakes up with the lurch of freefall in his gut

tell me about the nights he can’t sleep because he’s too busy checking the locks in his apartment over and over again, mechanically running through the same motions, because every time he’s just about to drift off there’s a jolt and the needle skips in his head and he has make another circuit of the room he just has to just one more and he’ll be safe, so he gives up and slumps down on his couch and texts natasha because she’s probably off somewhere halfway around the world and she won’t make anything of it like steve would

they chat for a while until she says im coming over and lo & behold, ten minutes later she’s climbing through his window, she’s pulling some fucking??? power tools ?? out of her purse, it’s three-thirty in the morning and she installs brand-new locks on all the points of entry and his bedroom door, and then she sits with him on the couch and runs her fingers over his head and murmurs pretty things to him in Russian until he dozes off

i thought you were in thailand, sam mumbles, mostly asleep. or norway or, like, mars, you didn’t have to,

yeah, nat smiles, i got back a couple hours ago. the jet lag from mars is a bitch, i’m not even tired, don’t worry