Who: Steve and open What: Steve Rogers’ very healthy coping mechanisms Where: Random hallway When: Late night/Early morning Monday/Tuesday Rating: Fake gore? LOTS of feels Open/Ongoing
It was a routine by now. Steve helped get the kids to sleep, took care of some housework, sat with Bucky for a while then went to bed, like he would have two years ago. Or two months ago. It was hard to reconcile sometimes. But once everyone was asleep and the house (mostly) quiet, Steve got up. He was sure Bucky knew he was doing it, but he hadn’t said anything yet. He would always be back before the house woke up; crawling in to bed with just enough time to sleep an hour or two before the kids started to wake up, but he was gone for the time between.
He padded outside the apartment, barefoot and in his pajamas, until he got the to the gym. There he would change, sometimes stretch or run for a while. He’d be back at the end of the night, to wash away sweat and blood and tears and shame.
He wasn’t really sure what to call the room he visited in between. It was massive, and rather unimpressive and empty at first, but it hadn’t taken him long to find or figure out the control panel off on one wall. He was actually pretty good with technology, if he was given a few minutes to poke at something to understand it. Once he entered his name, or what his name would have been in the native language of the ship, and moved a few dials and settings the room came to life. He hadn’t recognized any of the creatures yet, they had to be alien or from another universe, but it didn’t make any difference, they all had the same programming-to kill him. He didn’t really think they actually would, something in his gut told him the simulation would shut off if he was ever in actual mortal danger, but they did hurt him, if he let them. But he could fight them, each one different, but he still won. He wouldn’t go back until he won. And if he did, and the fight had been long enough, then he could lay back down next to Bucky and close his eyes without seeing the man next to him die. Over and over and over again.
Tonight had been tough. The beast had been massive, with a dozen appendages and more teeth than Steve bothered to count and skin tougher than he’d expected. He didn’t have his shield, either of them, and he imagined the simulation would not have given it the strength it really had anyway. It seemed that real weapons and the ones supplied by the simulation were given equal power against whatever the computer gave him to fight. But he’d gotten a blade, longer than something he’d ever used before but not quite a sword, and, after finding a weak spot on the thing’s neck he’d been able to slice it from throat to belly. The creature collapsing and simulation dissolving before he could even catch his breath. The beast had gotten in a few good blows though, and the teeth had gotten him a few times, particularly badly on his arm when he’d tried cutting it from the inside out. He looked at it and sighed, pushing away the torn, blood-stained material of his gym shirt. That one would be hard to hide from Bucky.
He went back to the panel in the wall and shut the rest of the program down before stepping out of the room and walking back toward the gym, bloody, bruised and coated in a layer of sweat, but finally tired enough for sleep.