Cold in Winter's tour bus was a repurposed one that had once been the go-to vehicle of a mariachi band, and before that, served as the dormitory for four college students who thought it was ridiculous to pay so much for housing. As such, it was an absolute hunk of junk. Steve prayed every time they attempted to start the engine that it would not break down in the middle of nowhere. His prayers were not always answered.
The cabin of the bus was far from homey. Apart from the smell, there were two sets of bunk beds that were rickety and once been painted a vibrant yellow. Natasha had attempted to take care of it with black spray paint, and the smell had never gone away. Loki and Natasha slept in one set of the bunk beds, which left Bucky and Steve on the other set. And of course Steve got the top bunk, where he tended to get nosebleeds and got to listen to the oh-so-sweet melody of Bucky's horrible snoring. Needless to say, Steve did not sleep particularly well.
Steve quietly unlocked the door to the bus and snuck inside. Surprised that the band was all asleep, Steve checked the clock. Ah. 5:00 a.m. Which meant that Steve now hit his 24th hour of being awake. Fantastic.
Sneaking around the empty beer and vodka bottles, Steve alighted the ladder to the top bunk (which gave a creak that sent fear straight to his gut) and plopped in the covers. Bucky flipped over and his cacophony of snores increased in volume. Steve sighed, and fumbled for his earbuds. Perhaps some Johnny Cash would drown out Bucky's snoring and help Steve sleep.
"I fell into a burning ring of fire…"
Steve blinked slowly, eyes searching the dingy ceiling. He didn't know what he expected to find there, but with each passing glance and each verse of Johnny Cash's smooth voice, Steve was lulled to sleep.
Steve did not have a peaceful night.
He was standing at his graduation ceremony. He looked into the crowd. After a bit of searching, he saw Peggy and Tony, grinning like idiots. He made it. After all his work, he was graduating. He was going to be a lawyer.
The dean held out his diploma and a hand ready to shake. But as Steve reached to grab it, his fingers passed through the diploma as if it were just a projection. Steve panicked, and reached again. And again his hand passed through the diploma.
His eyes met the dean's in utter fear. The dean's smile took on a more disturbing aspect, and Steve shrunk down in fear. The crowd laughed at him, pointing and mocking his failure. He was never going to be a lawyer. His future was over.
The diploma melted, the stage melted, the dean melted, and oh god he was melting too make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop….
Steve's breath caught in his chest as he heard his alarm. It was time for a new day.
Before Steve could even begin to process his nightmare, or the fact that it was, just a nightmare, the angry cacophony of "turn that fucking thing off" sounded from all sides. The band was not in the mood to be woken up while the sun was in any process of rising. Steve imagined he could feel the hangovers radiating off the band, like some kind of dark aura. He quickly turned the alarm on his phone off, and made the careful descent from the bunk.
Steve stifled a yawn as he fumbled to turn on the coffee machine. God, he felt like he had been hit by a truck. That was what, the third nightmare this week? Absolutely lovely.
As he inhaled his first coffee of the day, Steve checked his phone to see all the travel arrangements. According to his schedule, the next stop of the tour was….six hours away. Absolutely fucking perfect.
This leg of the tour might just kill him. Driving all day and staying up nearly the whole night to babysit a bunch of adults was not his idea of a good time, or even a decent time, for that matter. He tried to mentally encourage himself, thinking of the money, but then remembering that he isn't getting paid near enough to deal with this bullshit.
Steve prepared his second cup and it took every fiber of his being to prevent him from adding some coffee liqueur. Or just drinking it straight from the bottle. Why was he always the designated driver? He swiveled his head to look over at the band, sleeping off who knows what kind of drug and alcohol mix. Yeah, it's better this way.
By the third cup, Steve finally felt ready to tackle the day. He popped in his earbuds, turned on the GPS, and began to drive. Or at least attempted to.
Clack-clack-clack PLUNK. Clack-clack-clack PLUNK.
Steve slowly banged his head on the steering wheel and wondered if he would just be better off flipping burgers. You get free food, right?
With an exasperated sigh, Steve stood up and shuffled through the creaky door of the bus. The sun was coming over the tops of the buildings, and pierced through the parking garage that had been the temporary residence of the Cold In Winter tour bus. Steve squinted against the light, and braced himself to lift the hood up and see the damage.
It wasn't too bad, he guessed. Maybe it was that wire thing, or that tube thing, or…
Steve did not know a damn thing about cars, especially not a rectangular hunk of junk that's lucky it hasn't been accordian'ed in a junkyard by now. He was pretty sure that it would be a mercy kill to get this bus in an accident. He sighed. Maybe he could just google it?
Googling it was not a good idea. There are two things you never google: car issues and illnesses. Steve was entirely convinced the bus would engulf them in a fiery inferno, which perhaps wasn't the most unlikely situation, but not particularly helpful.
Steve gnawed on his lower lip. There was no room in the budget for repairs, let alone getting it towed for repairs. Plus that would set them off their time table by-wow okay things were pretty bad. What would they do? Uber there?
Steve was painfully aware of the bead of sweat that slid down his forehead as he struggled to see a way out of this. What the hell was Tony thinking, giving him this job? That's right, he's Tony, he WASN'T thinking. Tony probably thought "Oh, Steve's pretty smart, he can handle it." Steve narrowed his eyes. Maybe he should replace the word "smart" with "naive". He began to wonder who was doing who a favor here.
He was jolted out of his self pity with the sound of the tour bus door slamming. Great. He gets to deal with the first of many unhappy campers. He turns around, and no surprise, it's the ringleader, Bucky. As if the day couldn't get any worse.