while you sleep | bucky barnes x reader

chapter four

Hope was surprisingly actually kept alive as suddenly you were seeing the blonde-haired super soldier every morning. Sometimes even in the afternoon. While his order never changed -- quite the man with a plan as he certainly liked to stick to a routine -- he became much more talkative.

It started out as the littlest things. Steve would bid you a good morning or ask you about some breaking news he saw the other day. You entertained the chit-chat quite well in between orders. Steve had practically taken over the seat at the bar, the same one you had offered him that one nerve-wracking day.

Wondering what he would ask you about each day certainly helped to keep your mind off things. Granted, it didn't totally block out the fact you were speaking to your soulmate's best friend, but the conversations mixed with that tinge of hope sure did keep thought about the nightmares at bay.

Nothing was exactly progressing or regressing with the nightmares. They were at a sort of standstill in your mind. They were filled with violence but still were of older times, decades ago. The emotions, though, were not letting up. If you didn't wake up with vivid imagery of knives being flung and guns being loaded, you sure did wake up with a roller coaster of feelings rushing through you.

But what was felt from your soulmate didn't exactly align with what the nightmares told. The small glimpses of Bucky's eyes as the Winter Soldier wasn't filled with... anger, sadness, regret. They were just... eyes. They held little to nothing outside of stoic determination. If lines were getting crossed, you weren't sure. You still walked around feeling like a freakshow on display despite the fact no one, especially your coworker who had seen you initially crash and burn, ever asked you about the soulmate "dreams."

Well, that was until Steve started getting more comfortable at the coffee shop.

One afternoon, he had apparently decided to get bold. He was lounging at the little bar area and you could feel his eyes watching you clean up some syrup bottles.

Steve broke the silence, asking you something that he typically always did: "How are you?"

You shrugged with your back still facing him. "I'm doing okay, Steve. How are you?"

"No," he let out an awkward cough. Your brows furrowed as you turned to him, abandoning your task. "How are you?" He asked with such a pointed look that your heart sank.

You fumbled with the rag you were still holding, trying to look anywhere but at Steve -- but his demanding presence didn't allow for it.

"If I'm being honest, not much is getting better," you admitted. "I still see things, sure, but it's really about the feelings I get. They are so strong but I don't know how. The dreams are like old memories or something, I'm not sure anymore."

Steve nodded then looked down at his lukewarm coffee. You didn't know how he didn't get tired of that stuff, but you were past thinking he actually came in for the coffee anymore.

"Thought they would've lightened up by now," Steve eventually said. Your eyes shot to him. Every other word out of this man's mouth seemed to stun you. You were nearly convinced he knew everything.

You wanted to tread on this, but carefully.

"Why..." you sighed. "Why do you say that?"

"Hmm?" Steve hummed as if he didn't hear your question. Your eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I asked, why do you say that?"

He looked away, this time at the lines of syrup bottles behind you. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes shining with concern. Maybe he just needed that push and you wanted him to confirm... something, anything.