Steve gives up and calls it a night after reading about how the Dodgers packed it in and left Brooklyn for California. It's one of those things where he can't even try and find the positives, so he doesn't bother and trades it in for sleep instead.
The vision is a familiar one, and Steve revels in it. The sun pounds down over wooden bleachers that ring the grassy green field, there's a clamor of mirthful voices in the air, and the players on the field below look like little toy soldiers getting ready to play baseball instead of go to war. He sighs, exhaling with a bit of relief at the sight. Steve can feel the hard back of the seat in front of him, and he looks down to find some suspiciously skinny wrists there.
A quick glance down at the rest of his body tells him that he's back in his pre-serum shape, and dressed in the clothes to match. But his body doesn't hurt, and he can breathe deeply without struggling, so he can deal. There are more important things to focus on anyway, Steve thinks, and turns his eyes to the batter at the plate.
"Are we where I think we are?" a voice asks next to him, and he looks away from the first strike of the inning to find Darcy sitting next to him. She's not paying attention to him, but rather taking in the unfamiliar sights around her. He's dreamt her into appropriate clothes for the time as she's wearing a shirtdress in a summery, flowery pattern and a thin belt that cinches her waist. Her hair's curled and pinned up, tucked under a hat that doesn't do much to block the sun above but at least complements the rest of the outfit.
Even in the dream Darcy pushes her glasses up her nose with one red lacquered finger, and then looks over at him. "So is this original Steve?" she asks, sweeping an appraising look over him.
"That's one way of putting it," he says, shrugging. "But yeah, this was what I looked like before the serum." And though he doesn't want to admit it, he's waiting with his breath caught in his chest to hear her final verdict on what she sees.
Darcy nods decisively, lips painted red to match her nails curving up into a slow smile. "I like it," she says. "So you're a baseball fan?" she continues, focusing on him rather than on the game below.
He nods, his gaze moving past her and looking at the runner below executing a perfect slide into second base. "Couldn't really play it, not with the way my lungs were, but I love watching it. I knew all of the players, stats, and anything else you could think of." Steve chuckles, and shakes his head. "And just now I find out that my team up and left for the west coast while I was…away. Just another way the world changed while I was sleeping."
She twists in her seat to face him fully, the folds of her light, floral skirt bunching up and revealing pale, shapely legs and sturdy, leather, heeled shoes. Her legs are…surprisingly distracting, and he has to really focus to bring his eyes back to hers before she catches him looking. "My grandpa was a teenager when the Dodgers went out to California. Get enough brandy in him and he still starts bitching about it."
"And now I feel incredibly old. Thanks."
Darcy just rolls her eyes, but she's grinning. "Whatever, old man." Steve should be offended by this but her face is lit up and she's obviously happy and he can't help but be swept up in the giddiness of it all. He grins back and relaxes in his seat, soaking in the atmosphere.
For a moment, it feels like he's home again.
Another cheer rises up from the crowd, and they turn to see what's happening on the field below. Steve's eyes land on the batter coming up to the plate, and he shakes his head, his lips twisting upwards. "Of course," he mutters to himself. Down at the plate Bucky's swinging a baseball bat in his right hand, smirking out at the crowd in that way of his Steve remembers getting them into (and out of) more than a few scrapes. He's dressed in Dodger blue and white with a cap pulled down low over his forehead, but Steve can still see his eyes gleaming and glittering in the sunlight.
Bucky twirls the bat once more and moves into his stance. The same stillness and intensity that made him such a good sniper are easily adaptable for baseball, and it's only a matter of time until he spots just the right pitch to make his move. "This ought to be good," Steve says, leaning forward and bracing his arms on the seat back in front of him. Darcy mirrors his position, her eyes glued forward and her face shining with anticipation.
When Steve wakes up, it takes him a moment to remember he's in the future once more, and that his body hasn't suddenly reverted to its previous look. Still, he allows his mind to drift as he lies in bed; thinking about nothing in particular as he stares at the lightening sky that eventually gives way to sunlight.
a/n: So at some point soon I'm going to be migrating all of these dreams over into their own story, tentatively titled Night's the Only Time of Day. I won't be updating this one anymore, and will also have it revert back to its complete status, so you can follow my name instead or keep an eye out for the new story. Thank you for reading and commenting, especially the usual suspects (you know who you are!) and I hope to see you in future parts as well.