So moving all of the dream sequences over into this piece is probably not going to happen, so the previous story will stay exactly as is. That being said this story picks up directly after the last one - literally, only minutes pass between the ending of that story and the start of this one. Things also may get a little more adult in this story than the previous one as well, just to give you a heads up. Also, this story is still taking place prior to the Avengers movie (which probably will be covered somewhat in a later part).

Hugest of thanks to Meri for helping me beat this part into submission and putting up with a few plotty rambles as I try and nail down the character motivations in this story.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!


Build a New Reality

Steve means to leave the apartment as soon as Darcy passes out. Really, he does, but he finds himself glued to the chair watching the steady rise and fall of her body under the blankets like a metronome. In a way, it helps him avoid his own nightmares, dreams of blood and battlefields where guns are firing everywhere and bullets cut at his skin as he runs through the forest. He's haunted by his best friend falling into a snowy abyss, a grinning Red Skull with his eyes lit by quite possibly the flames of hell. Steve's pretty sure that Darcy hasn't dropped into those dreams of his yet, but it's only a matter of time. Seeing her dream tonight reminds him uncomfortably of those flashbacks, and he's waiting with a nervous tension for them to crop up again to scare the daylights out of both of them. So if he can avoid sleeping it's all the better.

He could get up and take a walk around the streets. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done so, spending hours tromping over cobblestone streets that haven't been updated in decades surrounding by buildings that have been changed so much that he can hardly recognize the factory buildings they used to be. Other times he goes to an all-night diner nearby he discovered on one of his walks and sits there for hours, drinking coffee and sketching in his notebook until he's able to erase the images from his brain.

Definitely time to get moving, Steve thinks, tapping his fingers on the arm rests of the chair. But the movement of her torso beneath the blankets is downright hypnotic, moving up and down as regularly as a metronome. It's this that lulls him back to sleep without much warning, his head rolling against the back of the chair.


The sight in front of him could come directly from one of those magazines that were smuggled into camp to keep the soldiers warm on those lonely nights. Peggy's there sitting on the couch in that red dress of hers, with her legs crossed in front of her and her painted lips spread into a knowing smile. Darcy's sitting on the couch next to Peggy, her pale legs stretched out and draped over the other woman's knees. She's more covered up in her floral shirtdress than she is in her sleeping clothes, but there's still something quite exposed and intimate about the entire thing.

Peggy's arm is wrapped around Darcy, her red painted nails pressing into her shoulder and tangling amidst her brown hair. Peggy winks at Steve once, a quick flick of eyelashes against pale skin, and twists in her seat to kiss Darcy. Darcy moans softly, lowly, and he can see Peggy's tongue prod at the seam of her lips and then slip further inward.

Steve's breath catches in his throat, like he's back in the old days and can't get anywhere near enough oxygen into his lungs. The sight should not be appealing to him; he should be more upset that his girl is there kissing this interloper from the future. He should be bothered by Darcy's presence invading one of his most private fantasies, but he's not. In fact, the view of Peggy and Darcy together makes the blood rush through his veins and his groin tighten.

Darcy's hand makes its way to Peggy's stomach, drawing patterns on the red fabric. Peggy's lips curve upwards and she moves to press a line of kisses to Darcy's cheek, right below her glasses. While Darcy's mouth moves to her neck, Peggy looks up at Steve again. She stretches out her free arm and beckons him over, her fingers curling sinuously in the air.

Really, who is he to disobey? Steve reaches out, takes her hand, and settles on the couch next to her. Peggy's palm is slightly rough against his; she's used these hands to cradle guns and conduct battles, and it's a small comfort to him. Their bodies are pressed together from shoulder to ankle, and he can feel Darcy's bare feet nudging up against his calf. She untangles her hand from his and wraps it around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a long, leisurely kiss.

Oh, how he's missed this, those lips of hers dancing along his and making the rest of the world fall away. It's all too easy for Steve to pretend that this isn't a dream, that this is real life and he's exactly where he wants to be. His hand reaches out to glide up the leg nearest to him, and he suspects it's Darcy's. The wandering leg returns the favor and stretches to rest her heel on his thigh. It looks like it could be a strain, but given how Darcy's got her face buried in Peggy's neck and her hand is still moving over her stomach, she doesn't seem at all bothered by it.

Peggy pulls away from his mouth with a nip and a lick. "You should try our girl," she whispers. "She tastes lovely."

That statement gives Steve pause. He's no naïve choirboy but he's never been in a situation quite like this before. Still, Darcy is an attractive young woman and he's not ashamed to admit that.

Bleary-eyed, Darcy pulls her head away from Peggy's neck. "It's all right," she mumbles, pushing her hair off of her face. "You don't have to if you don't want."

"No, that's – " His voice stutters to a halt, trying to find the right words. But really, it's quite simple. Does he want to or not? "I mean, if you want to?"

Darcy rolls her eyes and smirks. "Who am I to turn down such a tempting offer?" she teases.

"If you don't want to – "

She cuts him off with a "Shut up," and her hand wrapping around the back of his neck. Before Steve can even hesitate Darcy pulls his mouth to hers. She's surprisingly delicate and hesitant, kissing him like he's some sort of precious treasure that could crack at the slightest pressure.

Steve realizes that's the last thing he wants. No delicacy, no national treasure. Here and now he's just a guy. So the hand that's on Darcy's leg slides up under her dress to grab at her hip, pulling her closer. When she gasps at the sudden movement he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. If she was gasping before she's moaning now, her hand grasping at the back of his head.

Peggy nips at the shell of his ear and Steve's free hand reaches out to find her shoulder. "Good boy," she whispers in his ear as she begins to unbutton his shirt.


Steve awakes with a groan, eyes blinking rapidly in the low lighting of Darcy's tiny little room. Breath rattles in his lungs and his pants are uncomfortably tight. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down before Darcy catches him in this state. He's not willing to probe any further into those thoughts lest he see things he's not ready to admit to.

Steve looks over at Darcy to make his excuses and get out of there, but the sight of her makes his mouth go dry. She's kicked her blankets off and his stretched out across the mattress, arms thrown over her head. Darcy's not still, her legs rubbing together and her back arching nearly off the bed. Her nightshirt's pulled tight across her breasts, and her nipples are hard enough to nearly poke through the fabric.

Okay, he really has to go. Steve pushes himself to his feet and makes his way over to the bedroom door. The skylight's still pitch dark; he should be able to slip back to his apartment without being noticed by any of her roommates.

"Hey, Steve?" Darcy calls out, still sounding half drunk and mostly asleep.

He freezes in his tracks, eyes toward the door with his hand on the knob, ready to twist. "Yeah?"

"Two things. One: your girl's hot. Two: if that's how you kiss when you're asleep you must be pretty damn amazing when you're awake."

Steve smiles slightly, if only because he knows that she can't see him. "Good night, Darcy," he says softly.

"'Night, Steve. Sweet dreams."


A/n: Both the story title and the chapter title are from Hoodoo, by Muse. Wanna drop me a line? Visit my tumblr at aenariasbookshelf dot tumblr dot com!