Who: Steve and Bucky, possibly open to the rest of their house later What: new memories, new feels, new beard Where: their apartment When: Tuesday night, later Closed for now/Low (though probable talk of death/depression)/Ongoing
Steve was slow to wake up. Really, he didn't want to. He knew there was so, so much to do but he was tired. A deep, heavy, bone-dead exhaustion that he felt like he would never shake. He still felt grimy, dirty, covered in things he didn't want to think about. He tried to remember going to sleep; how had he ended up in a bed when last he remembered he was on his knees on a forest floor. Sitting in the space that he's lost. Lost the fight, lost his friends, lost hope.
He sighed deeply. Then again. Then finally opened his eyes. His first thought was that he was still in Wakanda, that something had happened and they brought him back to T'Challa's home. But as he sat up, he realized this wasn't the castle, this wasn't Wakanda. He was under soft, worn sheets, there was a crib in one corner of the room, someone else's clothes strewn over a chair next to it.
"Bucky." the word was barely more than a gasp and he was bolting out of bed, out of the room and down the hall. "Bucky!" it was louder now, desperation in his voice as he called for the man, hoping, or maybe wishing, there would be an answer.