Dream #2

From a prompt by Achlys: childhood memories. This is also in chronological order, taking place right after the last one, so it is set prior to the Avengers movie.

A movie set. That's what this latest dream scene reminds Steve of. It has all of the curving lines, sandy stucco buildings, and swooping curlicues of an exotic North African locale, but there's something too perfect about the picture. The buildings are just a little too clean, the tiled floor of the courtyard too straight and even, not reflecting the millions of footsteps that would have passed over them throughout the centuries. Potted trees and bushes line the walls of the stone courtyard, laced with golden lights that glitter and twinkle as the rain pours down from a heavy, leaden sky.

There's an overhang on one side of the courtyard, with arches and columns that look like old stone but are probably crafted from a much newer material sheltering wrought iron tables and chairs from the weather. A family is seated around one of the tables: mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, with a couple of children to round out the group. One child is seated in what Steve supposes is a carriage, buckled in with head tilted to the side, snoozing away with no care or worry about what's going on. The other child, a small brunette girl that's more spindly limbs than anything else is perched on top of another table, watching a dancer weave through the seats.

The dancer clicks the small cymbals on the ends of her index fingers and thumbs, creating a harmony with the chain belt draped around her bare waist and the delicate, tiny golden bells that ring her ankles and wrists. Her body is draped in diaphanous red, ivory, and black fabric, revealing and concealing as she winds her way through the courtyard. There's a twisting sinuousness to her moves, like she's sliding between the pelting raindrops without being touched by them. The little girl's wide eyes are glued to her movements.

Steve feels the raindrops slide beneath his collar, but he's not cold. In fact, the air is downright steamy, swollen with moisture that makes his clothes hang on him like a blanket. He flicks his eyes to the side and spots Darcy leaning against the far wall, rain streaking down her glasses and her arms crossed over her chest. She's staring hard at the dancer as well, biting nervously at her lower lip until it's an unnatural bright pink color.

Darcy's eyes meet his, and Steve finds that her expression is totally unreadable. She pushes herself off the wall and begins to walk towards him, taking a looping, meandering route that's nowhere near as fluid and controlled as the dancer's procession. When Darcy makes it to his side she leans into him, propping herself up like a drunk on a bender, and stares at the group of people taking shelter from the rain. She grabs onto Steve's arm, and opens her mouth to speak.

"'The time has come,' the Walrus said,

'To talk of many things:

Of shoes – and ships – and sealing-wax –

Of cabbages – and kings –

And why the sea is boiling hot –

And whether pigs have wings.'"

The next day there's a knock at the door, which is strange in and of itself. The only people who come to visit Steve are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and he's noticed that they have a distinctive and persistent knock. This one's far more tentative and lighter, giving him a better idea as to who's on the other side of the door. Sure enough, he sees Darcy standing on the other side of it when he pulls it open, hands shoved in her jean pockets and a satchel slung around her torso.

"I've got to run to the supermarket," she says without waiting for any pleasantries. "Do you need anything while I'm out?"

"No, I'm all set here. But thank you," Steve replies. The request is certainly a bit unusual, but as he can count the times that they've met in person on one hand, maybe Darcy's offer of help isn't as unusual as it seems. He doesn't really know her all that well, despite the fact that they've been sharing these dreams for a while now.

Darcy nods, her woven hat slipping down her forehead a bit. "Okay, well, I'll see you around then. If you need anything, just call me. Or put a sign in your window. It'd be kind of hard to miss." She presses her lips together, cutting off the rambling speech before it can get truly out of hand, nods once more, then spins on her heels to walk away. Steve watches her as she moves away, stepping slowly, carefully.

About ten feet down the hallway she stops and turns back to him, pushing her hat back into place. "Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?" He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches her wring her hands nervously.

"What did you dream about last night?"

Now the surprise visit to ask about the status of his groceries makes a bit more sense. "There was a family - parents, grandparents, kids – sitting around a…movie set? I think? And it was raining."

Darcy smiles, a wistful look that chases away the prior nervousness. "That was the first time I went to Disney World."

"Disney, like the animator?"

"Yeah, he's got some massive amusement parks around the world now. Amongst other things which you will have to research yourself because Disney stuff isn't exactly my forte." She shakes her head, still grinning. "Anyway. It's weird, I haven't thought about that in years. It had started raining on the day we went to Epcot, and we were hiding out in the courtyard of the Morocco part to wait out the storm. There was this belly dancer there, maybe to keep the people entertained, or maybe she was just killing time. I don't know." Her eyes grow distant, like she's trying to pull the images from memory and dream forth once more. "And I remember thinking that when I grew up, I wanted to be able to dance exactly like she did."

"Did you?" Steve asks.

"Nah. No coordination in these hips, as it turns out."

Steve huffs, not quite a laugh but approaching it. "I know the feeling."

Darcy shoves her hands back into her pockets, and the look on her face is clearly skeptical. "Really? You?" Her eyes run up and down his figure, appraising and measuring him.

He shakes his head. "There are a lot of things I can do, but dancing isn't one of them." Thoughts of that last radio conversation on the Valkyrie threaten to bubble up and drag him back down into the memories, but Steve pushes them away, at least for the moment. They'll catch up with him, but at least he can buy himself a little bit of time before that happens. "And the Through the Looking-Glass bit?"

She bites her lip, looks up at the ceiling of the hallway that could definitely benefit from a fresh coat of paint. "No idea," she admits. "Does it have to make sense?"

"I guess not."

Darcy begins to back slowly down the hallway. "I really do have to get to the supermarket," she says, but her whole demeanor is much, much lighter than it had been a few minutes previously. "So seriously, if you ever do need anything or just feel like bitching and moaning to someone, let me know. I'm literally right next door. I don't know everything about this big crazy world we're in, but I may be able to answer some of the questions."

"Except about Disney things," Steve says.

"Except that," she agrees. "I'll see you around, Steve." As she's walking towards the stairwell she calls back, "If I ever find a place that does dance lessons I'm dragging you along with me. We can stumble awkwardly through it together."

Steve just shakes his head a final time and slips back into his apartment, locking the door behind him as if it has the ability to keep 2012 at bay.

A/n: The quote in the dream is by Lewis Carroll. I'm still taking dream prompts as well. I've got a number of dream scenes that I'm planning on doing, but they're still in the nebulous stages and could definitely benefit from prompts to guide them. Leave them in the comments, or hit up the tumblr to drop me a line. Thank you to everyone who left ideas on the previous dream as well – those are going to be incorporated in future scenes too.