thecapitol | tried counting sheep

Entry tags:

tried counting sheep

Who| Sam Wilson and YOU! All of you!
What| Sleep issues and trying to settle post-arena
Where| Various spots in the Tribute Tower/over the Capitol
When| After the end of the arena and through the first week after, mostly before Panem Nightly
Warnings/Notes| Prompts for specific locations under the cut! Nightmare and PTSD-talk likely, probably mentions of violence and death

Late Nights in District 5
It’s probably not a secret that Sam hasn’t slept much since getting back from the arena, the same way that he can pick up the signs that he’s not the only one with sleeping problems in District Five. Some nights, he doesn’t even try - he either doesn’t return back to the floor at all, or when he does, he heads straight for the couch or the kitchen.

The nights he is there, he can be found in the common areas at all hours of the night, watching bad Capitol TV with the volume on low, in the kitchen making snacks, or even occasionally catching a few minutes of sleep on the couch before he jerks awake again.

In the Training Center
He’d been in the training room a lot before the arena, sure, but it’s even worse now. Whenever he has downtime that he can’t fill up by something else, Sam ends up here, going through a workout, practicing with whatever weapons are available, or just attacking the punching bags.

When he’s alone, he goes all out, sets up a playlist full of fast-paced, heavy workout songs and just loses himself in them.

When there’s other people there, though, he goes slower, reduces the pace so he can maintain a conversation, if they’re the type that will put up with him when he attempts to strike up one.

Out and About in the Capitol
Now that the curfew’s gone, most mornings he goes outside for his run. He hasn’t found a path he likes enough yet to make it a regular one, so he alternates routes through the parks and on the sidewalks.

When he’s done, sometimes he lingers in the Capitol, going shopping or just wandering around to get a better feel for the city, keeping an eye out for anyone he knows. Or anyone who looks like they might be a Tribute, instead of another… interestingly dressed Capitol citizen.

For Close CR
Some nights, he just can’t stand the thought of being alone. All right, a lot of nights, and he’s not too proud to seek out company when he needs someone else’s presence to pull him out of the thoughts that get stuck in his head.

Even if he does feel a little guilty at the late hour, but he figures they could tell him to get lost if they actually are sleeping, and don’t want to be disturbed.

So he when he can’t sleep, he makes his way to rooms that aren’t his, knocks quiet but firm on the doors of the people he considers himself lucky to call his friends.

(Starter prompts for specific threads in the comments!)

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It'd been a bad night. Sam'd actually tried for sleep, earlier, thought maybe he was tired enough that he'd be able to go for it, actually get in a full night.

Which obviously, hadn't worked out so well. He kind of feels like he's more tired than when he went to sleep, which is awesome on top of lingering nerves from the nightmare itself and shit from the arena.

It's also why he ends up outside Albert's room at way too early in the morning, knocking on his door.

It's been long enough since he'd died in the arena for Albert to get back into a routine. Up with the sun, a quick breakfast, then down to the training center for his morning work out. It's an odd occurrence when a few minutes after his alarm there's a quiet rap at the door.

A moment's rustling and a soft 'I'll get it, go back to sleep' and then Albert appears in the doorway holding a safety razor. He's still got a bit of stubble, but it's barely visible thanks to his light complexion and even lighter hair.

"Sam," He seems surprised, but not bothered by the early morning call as he steps out of the room and shuts the door quietly behind him, taking in the bags under the younger man's eyes. "Good morning, though it looks to me as if you haven't gotten much rest. Is something the matter?"

It's not until he notices the safety razor that he could have woken Albert up, could have been interrupting, and - feels a little bit guilty, for being so out of it that he didn't think of that, and a little relieved, that at least Albert was clearly up already.

"Not really, no," he replies, managing the barest hint of a smile. "Just, uh, kind of one of those nights where I wasn't sure if it was early morning or really late at night."

Which... may or may not make any sense, and Sam shakes his head at himself. "Rough night," he clarifies. "The kind where I know I'd do better with company right about now, but I, uh. Didn't think about what time it was."

"It's alright," he sets the razor aside and motions for Sam to follow him out into the empty common area. "I think I've shared enough of my baggage with you that you're entitled to a few wee-hour calls if you need them, especially if there's something I can do to help."

Which apparently he thinks involves tea because the first thing Albert does when out in the kitchen and commons is put a kettle on. There's something calming about the kitchen too, Albert prefers it for troubled talks over the living room despite the more comfortable couches, but he'll ultimate let Sam settle wherever he feels most comfortable. He is, after all, the one making the early morning call.

"Is this something you want to talk about or are you looking for a distraction?"

“Thanks,” he says quietly, gratitude obvious in his voice as he follows Albert into the kitchen. The kitchen is more than good with him - if nothing else, there’s always something he can do in one, if he needs to take a minute or two to collect himself. Case in point, he gets out two mugs as he thinks over that question, setting them down on the counter before he leans against it, watching the kettle.

“Almost five years ago, I watched my best friend die. Shot down right in front of me. Riley was-” everything, but Sam doesn’t want to say that. It feels too cliche, too… desperate, maybe. Too something. And anyway, it wasn’t really true. Riley hadn’t really been everything; Sam’d had his family and the military and a bunch of other things holding him together. He shakes his head.

“Nothing I could do. And a few weeks ago, I watched Steve die, bleed out in my arms. Steve’s-” Not the same, it’s not the same as it was with Riley, but it’s close, it’s way too damn close. It’s the same in a different way. There’d never been anyone like Riley before and there hadn’t been anyone like him since, and Sam always thought that was both a good thing and a terrible thing, but now?

Now Sam needs more than one finger to count the number of people whose deaths would rip him up inside, more than one hand to count the ones who’re pretty close to being there. It terrifies the shit out of him - would even back home, a little, but especially in a place like this.

“I, uh.” He pauses, then looks over at Albert with a bit of a self-deprecating smile. “I actually don’t think I’m going to be all that good at talking this morning.”

"I know Steve." Albert's response is soft and full of understanding, for both the original event of Riley's death and the recent one that triggered all the same feelings of loss and helplessness. He knows little of Riley aside from what Sam has shared, but Steve being the kind of man he is and having to watch him die...

The kettle whistles to break the silence and Albert busies himself with pouring tea. "It's alright if you don't want to say more, I understand. I've been through similar."

With the same man over and over it seems. Jet's died enough times to count on two hands, or at least it seems like it, and twice was before Panem. Even within the Arena, when Albert knew Jet would be likely waiting for him in the Capitol, it filled him with a sense of hopelessness. He can't imagine it's any better for Sam.

He puts a dollop of honey in each mug and hands his friend one of them, hoping the sweet scent and warmth will help calm frayed nerves. "It does a number on your ability to sleep, among other things."

"Yeah, I know." It's soft as well, tinged with the same hint of understanding that Albert's earlier comment had been. It's a big part of why he'd come up here - he knows Albert understands, and he'd trusted that Albert wouldn't think worse of him, for voicing any of this.

He gives a soft snort as takes the mug, curling his hands around it. "I think I actually slept better in the arena." If only because there wasn't a lot of time to sleep, and his body had been able to fall back on training to grab as much as it could. It was when they were supposed to be relaxing that he struggled.

"I don't know what I'll do if it's ever for real," he confesses, staring into his mug of tea. He'd given up his wings after Riley, and even if he hadn't had a lot of choice in the matter, even if he's a different person now than he was then, even if he's got a lot more skills and supports to fall back on - it scares him to think about what might stop mattering to him if he loses someone else.

"Mourn, change, and keep going." Albert sips at his tea, as if it were that easy. It's not, and he knows it's not for all the loss he's suffered in his life, but ultimately it is what happens if you don't let it drown you.

"I lost a fiancee, before Jet." It still hurts to think about, especially with the Capitol having concocted an apparition of her in a previous Arena, one feral and hungry that he'd had to put down. "It took me a very long time - years - to recover, and I never really 'got over' her death, not in the way that people talk about such things. I still think about her."

He doesn't sound ashamed, instead giving Sam a small, quietly self-deprecating smile. "I know that may sound suspect considering I'm a married man now, and happily so, but people who die never actually leave you. It's just a matter of how you carry that memory, if you let it be a weight or if it's instead a talisman."

"I'm not saying it's easy, but for what I know of you Sam, I think you would turn that pain into strength." Better than Albert did for the longest time, anyway. Hilda's memory would hold him back from so much at times, when in truth she'd likely want him to be happy, to have as much of a good life as he could.

She never could have predicted this, but even so... he likes to think she would be proud that he hadn't managed to give up all those years ago, begging to die on the operating room table. He likes to think she would approve of where he ended up as a person.

Sam’d kept staring into his tea as Albert talked, but he looks back up, when Albert mentions a previous fiancee. One he’d never gotten over, and shit, yeah, Sam knew that feeling. Everyone tells you to get over death like it’s something that’s not supposed to affect you after a certain amount of time, like it’s something you’re not allowed to think about every day, but it doesn’t always work like that. Hell, Sam doesn’t know anyone it’s worked like that for.

“It doesn’t sound suspect. Keeping the people we’ve lost close to our hearts doesn’t mean the new relationships we make are worth any less.”

It’d taken him awhile, and he still struggles with it on occasion - funnily enough, it’d been Jet that caused the most recent one - but he has learned that. He smiles a little when Albert calls it a talisman, thinks of the tattoo he’s got of a wing curling around Riley’s initials, thinks of the token he’d chosen to go into the arena with - shit, thinks of how many times he’s told a group of vets it was up to them how they carried things.

“You’re right, it’s - yeah. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again.” When he has to. It’s just -

“It’s the not easy part I’m worried about.” Sam glances down at his mug again, then makes himself look back up. If he’s going to ask for something like this, the least he can do is look the guy in the face while he does it. “I know this is a lot to ask for, and you don’t have to agree to it if it makes you uncomfortable, but if-” He pauses, swallows roughly, then keeps going, “If it does happen, if it looks like I’m making it too much of a weight, can you remind me of this conversation?”

"If I'm not the one who's gone," he nods, then smirks at himself, knowing he just made a very tasteless statement. It's a defense mechanism, or so he's been told. To prevent weighty events from crushing him, Albert will sometimes instead treat them too lightly, as if he doesn't care. He's not nearly so bad as when they'd been under Black Ghost's control and yet he hasn't done it in years, hasn't felt like he had too since things were either not as bad or were so far out the other end of worse that he hadn't even known how to parse it at the time.

"That was bad, wasn't it?" He gives a short laugh into his tea and takes a sip before giving a real response. "But no, if I see a friend in danger - either physical or otherwise - it's not in me to let it fester."

Albert's response startles a half-laugh out of him, an amused huff that he swallows up by taking a sip of his own tea. If nothing else, at least it broke the tension.

"That was terrible," he agrees, but he's grinning a little. "But you're a soldier, I think gallows humor is kind of par for the course."

He shakes his head a little, still smiling. "Yeah, assuming it's not you who's gone. I'd have to find someone else to keep an eye on me, for that." Sam's aware that he's implying that he wouldn't be okay, that Albert means enough to him that his death is among the ones that might cause Sam to spiral back a little. But he doesn't take it back, and he keeps looking up for a long moment before he looks back down into his mug. "Thanks, man."

He tries not to dwell on what it would look like, his friends and allies hurting for his loss. It's a frightening double standard, realizing that you're important to the very people who are important to you, but for Sam in his state of mind, Albert just grins and nods, letting all the dour things he could think and say fade into the background until he can examine them on his own time.

"Any time, my friend. Even four in the morning."

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, Sam's... feeling a lot more like himself. He's not fooling himself enough to think that he's not going to keep having bad days, but it's a hell of a lot better, knowing he has support here. That he'd somehow managed to find a friend like Albert, like a few of the others he has here, and he can't feel anything but grateful for that.

"I'm glad you were up, man, I'd have felt terrible for interrupting you and Jet."

"I'm usually up with the sun. Jet tends to sleep in," Albert shrugs, smirking a bit. "If it's more like midnight then interrupting might be the word."

Not so much lately. Maybe it's their age catching up with them, maybe it's the environment of Panem taking its toll, but they're not quite as physically active with each other as they used to be. True, they can still go at it as voraciously as they always have if the mood strikes and they're no less attracted to each other than ever, but it's been more... soft of late. Comfortably just lying next to each other in whatever state of undress they happen to be in, just finding solace in each others' presence.

Albert at worried at the change at first but he's come to the conclusion that's it's simply because it is that; change. Albert's never done too well with it at first, it makes him antsy, but this? This calm he and his husband have he could get used to.

But that's not the sort of thing you bluster to your friends, not as men. No, instead its all sexual jokes and innuendo and boasts about prowess. Albert takes a sip from his mug. "I tire him out."

“I’ll remember that,” he says with a chuckle. He will, though, or at least he’ll do his best. Talking with Albert had helped, had made him bounce back a little, but he’s not optimistic enough to think that this’ll be the end of it.

He kind of regrets taking a sip of his tea right then, because the surprised chuckle he gives in response to Albert’s comment almost makes him snort a little bit of it. Sam recovers quickly, though, grinning wide and amused at him over the mug. “Is this where I should be glad I don’t share a district with either of you, so I don’t have to hear what you two get up to?”

"Probably, though the walls are fairly well soundproofed." Likely because no one wants to hear the screaming of nightmares from the Arenas, but he doesn't say that aloud. He'd rather keep this much more upbeat and comfortable mood awhile longer.

"We try to be conscientious roommates, but there's only so much we can do." He smirks again, a twinkle in his eye in amusement at the conversation. "You'd miss certain people in your own District I think though, if you were here. There's footage of you and Venus asleep on one another that gets played every so often, you know."

Which Albert's commenting on brings a sort of big-brotherly air to his statement. He doesn't for a moment believe Sam would want to harm his surrogate sister in the slightest, but he can't help a little protective bluster.

Yeah, Sam's pretty sure he knows the real reasons behind the sound-proofing, too, but he's not going to think about that either. He's had enough of the heavy conversation for this morning; he'd much rather smirk at Albert in between sipping at his tea, bright and amused and absolutely remembering this conversation later, in case he wants to mention something to Jet.

He groans a little when he hears about the footage, though there's no denying the way his smirk briefly turns into a softer smile at Venus's name. "Man, of course there is." He can't miss that protective air, and even if he's pretty sure that Albert knows him well enough to know that he has no ill intentions there, he does his best to respond to it. "But yeah, you're right. I would miss some of the people in my district. It's funny, how quickly some people can mean a hell of a lot to you."

"It is. But nice too, on some level." Albert smiles at that. It's small, but completely genuine. Not that Albert's been less than genuine with Sam on the whole, there's just something familial about him in that moment.

"Best to stay there, then. I think certain people would miss you too. And I appreciate that you're there to keep watch on everyone." After all, it's not just Delilah there but Initiate too.

Sam smiles back, soft and equally genuine. “Yeah, it is.” And he sure as hell is grateful for it. Especially right now, with the way Albert’d helped him.

He chuckles a little at that. Sam has no idea how he’d ended up in 5 and he doubts he ever will, but at times he’s glad for it. “Best I can, anyway.”

Sam finishes off the rest of his tea, moving over to the sink to wash out his cup. “Thanks, man. For everything. I’ll let you get back to starting your day.”

"Any time, Sam. And I do mean that." He claps his friend on the shoulder, setting his own mug in the sink for later washing. "Actually, if you're still awake in about twenty minutes I'm going to go for a run in the park now that the weather's starting to improve. Care to join me? Though if you can seep, you should do that instead."

The company would be nice though.

Sam thinks about that for a moment. He’s not as keyed up as he was when he first came up here, and he knows if he can sleep he probably should, but he’s still a little too awake.

“Nah, I think a run might be just what I need.” Maybe after he can pass out for a little while. “I’ll go get changed, meet you on the ground floor in twenty.

He heads down to his own suite with another smile, already feeling a hell of a lot better about the day.

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tried counting sheep

For Albert

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nsfw subject matter whoops

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wrap up?

wrapping up is good!

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and wrap!