Rain poured. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared.
Steve Rogers bolted out of bed in a sweat. He placed his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath. It had been raining all night, and he hasn't caught a wink of sleep. He sighed, giving into the night and slipped out of bed. Maybe drinking hot chocolate would make him feel better.
He took the top throw blanket off his bed, wrapping it around his shoulders, and walked out of his room.
KA-CRASH!
Steve flinched, tightening his grip on the blanket as the thunder boomed. He quickly leaned against the doorway in his room, eyes clenched shut, as the ground shook below him.
"Now or never. Rogers!" the pilot yelled over his shoulder to Steve, his grip on the steering was deadly tight. Bright flashes of orange and yellow could be seen from out the window, quickly followed by loud booms. The plane was violently shaking but the pilot fought to keep it straight. "Rogers!"
Steve jolted at the thought of his own name, dropping his blanket on the floor. He ran a hand through his hair. What just happened? He wasn't asleep so why are the nightmares still happening? He sighed. He really needed that hot chocolate.
He slowly inched his way to the kitchen, one hand against the wall for support as the ground still felt like it was moving under his toes. He couldn't blink without an image popping into his head.
First it was of the plane.
Then of Bucky on the plane, trying to deactivate the bomb.
Then of himself, hurdling towards the cold Atlantic right before he-
He shivered as that last one entered his mind. He could feel the freezing water hit his skin, the way it instantly lowered his body temperature. His lungs tightened, as they did that day, reminding him of how they reacted during an asthma attack. He could remember himself wishing that he could fight against the strong water and swim his way up, but it was too late.
KA-CRASH!
The loud thunder pulled him out from his thoughts, sending his mind back into the plane. "Rogers! Jump!" He quickly reacted as he could hear the pilot yelling at him. He jumped, more startled than anything, and landed hard on the ground.
The shock of landing on the hard wooden floor woke him up from his sudden flashback. "Ow," he mumbled, as he rolled over, rubbing his arm from where he landed. He pushed himself off the ground and leaned against the wall. He felt like he was going insane. One moment he's jumping out of a plane, next he's on the hard floor with pain running through his arm. He sighed, hoping he didn't wake anyone else up in the tower. He desperately needed that hot chocolate now.
He slipped into the kitchen and pulled out the small pot he needed, placing it onto the stove. He poured some milk in and waited for it to boil. He needed the cocoa powder and the mug for his drink to be complete. He reached into the cabinet above his head and pulled out the half-full tin of the chocolate powder and set it next to the stove. He smiled as he went to go get the mug, feeling much better than he had all night long. Plus, the storm seemed to grow farther away.
He pulled the mug from the cabinet, catching a glimpse at Tony's deep red coffee cup. It wasn't a shiny metallic color like all of Tony's other iron man red items around the house. This red didn't even remind him of Tony's suit at all. A loud crackle rang through his ears. A crackle too familiar, one that he wished to never hear again.
CRASH!
His hands flew to his ears dropping the mug, attempting to block the laughter out of his mind.
"You weren't strong enough, Captain America," the voice rang out in his strong accent. "You never will be. You're just an experiment waiting to expire."
Steve closed his eyes, wanting to wake up from this horrible nightmare, but Red Skull's laughter ran through his mind. "Leave me ALONE," he gritted, shaking uncontrollably. The laughter echoed through his mind, "You're nothing, Rogers. Nothing."
"Steve!" The laughter quickly died down as he was pulled back into reality, hearing another voice enter his mind. He felt hands grip his arms, giving him a slight shake. "Steve!" He knew that voice…
He began to relax, slowly opening his eyes to see a worried Stark above him. Above him? He took a small glance around realizing he had fallen to the floor, his hands had removed themselves from his ears during his fit and stopped him from falling face first on the broken mug on the ground. He slowly turned one shaky hand, reveling the small shards of pottery in his hand and the blood that slowly dripped out.
Tony had been working in his lab for most of the night, knowing for a fact that he probably wouldn't get much sleep between his plans that need to be written down or attended to and the storm that brewed outside. Once the storm died down, and JARVIS confirmed that it was done for the night, he decided it was time to try to get as much Z's as he could. He walked by Steve's room, noticing the throw blanket on the floor realizing something was wrong. He was just about to ask JARVIS to locate the soldier for him when a loud crash came from the kitchen, followed by Steve yelling to be left alone. Tony came running, thinking it might have been an intruder. (which, as he thinks of it now, wouldn't make sense. He had the best security in the whole world.)
"What happened?" He asked, helping Steve up. Steve just shook his head, averting his eyes from Tony. How was he going to tell him that the nightmares were getting the best of him. He guided Steve to the table, sitting him down and slipped back into the kitchen. He turned off the stove, as the milk was already overflowing the pot, and reached under the sink, pulling out the first aid kit. "Steve, you know JARVIS makes some pretty good hot chocolate," he softly smiled, as he sat down next to Steve, placed the kit on the table and opened it.
"I didn't want to wake him," Steve mumbled back as he held out his hands towards Tony.
"I never sleep, sir," the AI's voice stated. Tony used the tweezers from the first aid kit to pull out the remains of the mug from Steve's hands and began to bandaged them. Steve averted his glance away from his hands and Tony, not wanting to think of what just happened or try to explain it to Tony. His attention was caught by the pot now stained with the bubbling milk, then to the remains of the mug on the floor.
"I'm sorry," Steve whispered.
"Hm?" Tony questioned as he finished fixing Steve's hands. He looked up, noticing the other man's glance towards the kitchen. "Oh, no it's fine."
"No, it's not," Steve replied, turning towards Tony. "I don't know what happened and the nightmares just-" He stopped himself, eyes wide as he realized what he had said. He quickly pushed himself from the table, flinching as his hands gripped the table. Tony grasped his wrist, stopping him from walking away.
"What nightmares?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.
Steve shook his head, " Just forget about it. It's nothing." He yanked his hand away from Tony and walked into the hallway.
"If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine," Tony quickly called out, leaning back in his chair. He slightly regretted saying that he would tell Steve about his, but if this was the only way for Steve to tell him of his nightmares, he needed to.
Steve slowly turned around and stopped in the doorway. "You have nightmares too?" Tony nodded. Steve hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway weighing out the odds. Is he serious about having nightmares too? Tony noticed doubt and sighed.
"Come on soldier," He stood up, grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him towards the lounge. Once there, he let go of Steve's hand and sat down, patting the empty spot next to him. Steve gave a small nod and sat down next to him. "Now, is there something you want to tell me?"
Steve opened his mouth but hesitated. He looked at his bandaged hands, wishing it would all go away.
Tony frowned and sighed. He leaned back into the couch and placed his hands on the back of his head. "I still have nightmares of Afghanistan." Steve tightened, turning towards Tony. Before he could muster out a word, Tony continued. "I dream of those nights that I was there: of the Ten Rings, of Yinsen's death. I wake up screaming, wanting it to be over. I feel-" he stopped himself. He said only the dreams, not anything else.
"You feel what?" Steve asked, his full attention on the man staring at the ceiling, who remained silent. Steve sighed, looking back down at his hands. He guessed it was his turn now. "I-I have nightmares about the war. About losing Bucky, about my…sleep, soldiers that were lost on my account. I-I even feel the pain of the bullets hitting me, the shaking ground as bombs exploded. I just- can't sleep."
Tony looked over at Steve and sat up. He slowly placed his hand against Steve's back and slowly rubbed it. "I can't sleep during storms either Cap."
"Which, Sir, I'd hate to inform you, but it looks like another storm is heading this way," JARVIS apologized.
"You know what?" Tony smiled, before giving one strong pat to Steve's back. "We need to catch you up on pop culture, let's pop in a movie." Steve nodded, knowing exactly what Tony meant. They both couldn't sleep, so why waste their time trying. "JARVIS, play The Godfather for Steve-o."
"Right away, Sir," JARVIS answered, dimming the lights and started the movie for the two heroes.