farsickness | February: For Love & Monsters

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February: For Love & Monsters

[A CATCHALL]

Who: Merlan and YOU
What: Feb. Catchall
Where: Gazin, Merlan's Clearing
When: All of Feb.
Warnings: Language, maybe.

❅ CHOP WOOD, BUILD STUFF

The trees are thick in her clearing, some need to be removed, yielding wood for cooking or for warmth and that means lots of chopping for her to do with an axe and a thick stump Merlin had felled himself for just such a purpose. It had been a large tree once that had become part of her main house and a tool shed. She could have used magic but the labour felt good.

Swing, crack, toss.
Swing, crack, toss.
Swing, crack, toss.

Eventually, she had enough to leave piles at the front doors of her residents to make sure they were warm and cared for. If they were home, she also had a basket with a knitted blanket, a scarf, mittens, a nice mug, and a hot beverage. No sense in people being cold.

"Good morning, wood and warmth calling," Merlan sang out.

❅ ON THE HUNT

Just because it was winter didn't mean the monsters stopped calling. Trapping them wasn't always an option, which she always thought was unfortunate. This time, though, something was eating a three-eyed crow who'd done nothing to deserve it and she'd been after the stupid bog wight for ages. Chasing it down had become an irritant to sat the least. She was sodden with snow, her horse was covered in mud, and she was miserable.

She nocked an arrow.

"Put down the crow," she grumbled, "or I'll put you down."

It roared at her and she sighed, releasing the arrow aimed for an eye.

❅ WILDCARD - Find her in Gazin, at home wherever, whenever.

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"Yeah? Well, don't go to sleep on me," Bucky teases, laughing softly. "That'll get me a real bad review."

He turns her a little and then curls her back in against his chest, enjoying the feeling of protecting her from everything even though everything consisted of a kitchen table and a few chairs. He feels like his bulk is good now, something to be wanted, and not something unwanted from the serum.

"He's so boring I fell asleep - that's a great way to get me started in the world."

"Never boring," she says with a laugh but means it. "Mind you, it might be an improvement if I fell asleep. I haven't slept since I arrived this time. Nothing seems to work or maybe angels don't sleep but whatever I am, this is much better than what I've been doing, which is a little bit of everything and then some. I keep thinking something will wear me out or calm me down but it doesn't."

Fighting monsters, building things, working the forge, making magic tokens-- it's not this. It wasn't peaceful and it didn't fill up that part of her that needed the respite. She's good, curled up against him like this, maybe better than good.

"This," she murmurs and the words come out with a soft longing, "this I didn't really know I needed in my life." Her palm flattens against his chest in silent emphasis. A dance. Him. Whatever they've started, that's what she needs.

"You haven't slept?" Bucky asks, incredulous at that. While he can go without sleep for long periods of time and usually does so he doesn't have to dream, the concept of someone not sleeping for weeks on end is worrisome. Can't a person die from that? Of course, she's not really a person anymore but the point remains. The mind has to rest.

"No, no, no, no. No more dancing for you. You're going to sleep," Bucky says insistently. "I don't care if you don't need it regularly or anything, it's good for your brain. Take it from someone who knows about this stuff. C'mon, back to bed with you."

"Not a damn wink," she says. "I've tried closing my eyes, counting sheep, I've tried wearing myself down with sit up, running, but I can't get there and laying there with your eyes closed is just weird."

She drops her forehead against his chest with a quiet sound. Not sleeping is torture and he's right, she needs the rest. It's not even about dreams at this point.

"I'd love to go back to bed and have it stick," she says almost absently. "Be a Hell of a thing."

"Pajamas for you," Bucky says, pulling away just a little bit. "We're getting you to sleep. And by we, I mean me, because you don't seem to be having any luck by yourself."

He thinks she might need a stubborn push and he's nothing if not stubborn.

"I know a couple things. Comes with being old."

"I'm not going to argue with trying," she said in a quiet, thoughtful voice. "I never thought I'd be frightened out of my mind that I couldn't sleep but I suppose that's some of it. That and it's just me, dumped back here all weirdly new."

Pajamas were another story. She'd gotten a chemise at some point when she was trying to make herself fall asleep in the early weeks. It was soft, fluttery, impossibly soft cotton with a tie at the neck, and fell to her ankles. It wasn't white but a sort of watery blue with blue ribbons and it was so completely girly that she buried it somewhere in the closet she'd made but it made her look amazing.

She got it out now, padding out of sight into the bedroom and changing, her feet bare against the well-sanded wood floor, her hair unbound, drifting around her shoulders as she wandered back toward him.

"Best I've got for pajamas," she murmurs, her voice small and soft.

Bucky shakes his head at her, trying not to think about how goddamn pretty she looks. That's not a good thing, that's not what he's here for, and that's just going to get everyone in trouble. Nope. Not thinking about it.

"They didn't look like that back in the Forties, you know."

He bends down to take off his boots but that's the only concession he makes. He's here to help her sleep, not sleep with her.

"C'mon, sit on the bed in front of me. I've got something in mind."

"Mm," she says, colouring a little. "When you go in for nightclothes and everything looks like this, there's no sense in arguing."

Merlan settles where she's directed and goes still, though her breath come a little shallow and quick until she refocuses. Being touched is as new as going without sleep. Her mind comes up with a thousand scenarios that are completely unhelpful and wind up with the nightgown on the floor in most cases. Utterly unhelpful, more so because as she sits, goosebumps rise across her skin.

This is about sleep.

Not sex.

Her brain raises a thousand reasons for both and she lets out a soft huff of wry amusement. Here's to try number one, then.

"All right. Close your eyes. Think of something really relaxing. Beaches, mountains, whatever does that for you."

Bucky usually thinks of just being still but his own mind is a minefield that no one wants to discuss, least of all him. He reaches his hands out to work into her hair, massaging her scalp. The glamour is damn good, too, because it feels like two hands and not the vibranium one on the left.

"Tell me what feels good and what doesn't. It's about relaxing."

That short circuits whatever smartass remark she was going to make and there are no images save the way her brain wants to flip over in a sigh of pleasure. It feels good and a little mindboggling because she hasn't had her hair touched since she was about five and even then it wasn't like this.

"Oh," she says and it comes out almost sharp, her fingers hovering for a half second in the air before they lower. "No. I mean yes that feels lovely. I've just not had that done, ever." It's almost electric the way the feeling of his hands in her hair trail in long waves down her spine. She finds herself relaxing bit by bit against him. Merlan's usually good about visualization but for the life of her she can't pull anything up.

It's just his hands and his presence behind her.

"That's new. What am I saying? It's all new."

"New as in good new or bad new?"

Bucky pushes her hair out of the way so he can massage her neck with light fingers. These hands have done more killing than anything else but it's about time they did something good, he thinks, and he thinks he can manage this without messing it up.

"Girl did this to me, I'd be out like a light. Is it working at all?"

It takes her forever to come up with words, her head tilted slightly forward as she finds spaces to put breaths between the electricity of his hands in her hair and on her neck. Her thoughts run together but it's not anything sleepy.

Merlan likes his hands where they are and she lets out a soft sound.

"Good new," she says eventually and feels a little dizzy for it all. "I'm a little lightheaded, I-I think but it's definitely isn't sleepy." Her fingers find his for a brief spark of a touch.

"But it feels very, very good."

She pauses.

"Someone should do this to you, too," she whispers.

"We're not talking about me," Bucky says smoothly. "We're talking about you and your sleeping habits. Lightheaded, though? That's not...exactly what I was going for."

He frowns a little and tries to work that out. Lightheaded? Really? He's going for relaxed here. He shifts so he's settled back against the pillows and guides her so she can sit with her back to his chest.

"Try it this way. You've got a big, murderous pillow to use now. Just drift on to sleep, I've got you," Bucky says, stroking his hand down her right arm and to her palm and back up again.

The thing of it was, she'd enjoy putting her hands to work, letting them lazily work through his hair and that makes her smile a little. The lightheadedness wasn't a terrible thing, it was just different. Merlan does tuck herself back against him, going quiet and still.

Will this work?

She's small against him, her cheek turned against his chest without complaint and she can hear the steady, easy way he breathes and his heart beats--it's lulling and so close to sleep she can almost taste it. Almost touch it and there were even vague images for a while. The way he strokes her arm is nice, too, but she stirs a little after about ten minutes.

"You do make a fabulous pillow," she says in a low, soft voice. "That was a doze, I think, so, closer." She sounds pleased, immensely so, because it's as close to sleep as she's gotten in recent memory. Her fingers find his and tangle.

It's progress.

"Get under the covers then. I'll stay until you fall asleep. No talking, no conning me into getting up and dancing, none of that. You just need to rest and think sleepy thoughts."

For his part, Bucky tugs off his shirt and tosses it on the floor before sliding in himself. There's plenty of pillows so he tucks them under his head and lays on his back, giving her options.

"Rest up, Buttercup. Time to go to bed."

She has a feeling that she might fall asleep only to wake when he's gone but she tucks herself in with him, her cheek against his chest and tries not to think about it. He's been the closest she's gotten to anything real sleep like in ages.

"I'll take what I can get," she says in a quiet voice. Somehow, it's warmer curled up against his chest like this and she buries herself against him, her cool fingertips warming against his skin.

"You could stay," Merlan says, her voice a soft, almost sleepy murmur. "I could make us lunch later. Venison, eggs, something easy."

"You could think about sleeping and I could cook later," Bucky retorts. Still, her idea about staying isn't a bad one and he settles in a little more against the mattress, thinking about how nice it would be to wake up with a woman in his arms. It's been a long time since he's been able to do that.

He strokes through Merlan's hair lightly. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. Whole purpose of me playing pillow is so you use me."

The double entendre is not lost on him but now isn't the time to follow up on it, not when his purpose is to get her to sleep and not make a move on her. He sighs a little, relaxing himself. He could get used to this.

A soft mmn is what he gets back as she closes her eyes and allows herself to drift a little. Everything was fine. She wasn't needed anywhere by where she was and Bucky felt warm and good against her. Even if she only slept for a little while, it was worth it.

The double entendre makes her laugh a little and she stretches a little to let her lips ghost across his cheek before tucking herself back against him. One of her arms drapes across his hip. She'd never thought that company would have been the answer to her sleeplessness riddle but with the way his presence has done wonders, she's pretty sure he's what she needs right now. It's confirmed by the way she's able to relax fully against him.

The warmth is what she finds the most soothing. Warm and real, not imaginary, not fleeting, not leaving yet. If he does, she knows she'll wake too quickly and it'll negate whatever sleep she'd managed to get.

Sleepy thoughts are hard to think but she lets her guard down and lets herself doze lightly, then a little deeper. It'll be fine. There was time for other things later, after all.

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February: For Love & Monsters

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