Bosky-Wisp

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

References to contemporary films & actors in MASTERS OF THE AIR (2024)

HISTORICAL CONTEXT/SOURCES ↓

Pairing: CrozBucky

Something's off. Harry can feel it in the air like a storm coming in. John's been careful around him all morning, moving like Harry's delicate or easily spooked. Harry's spent the last couple of hours waiting for John to say whatever he's clearly holding back, but he doesn't. He just looks at Harry for a few seconds, then looks away.

Harry manages to hold off on asking questions until they're weeding the vegetable patch. John's staying so close Harry keeps landing an elbow in his ribs, and it finally makes him sigh and stop and look at John and say, "Okay, what is it?"

"What?" John asks, and Harry can't believe there was ever a time he couldn't see through John's lies. He's a deeply terrible liar. His tone is flippant, but his eyes say everything. He's worried. A little scared.

"You've been tiptoeing around me all morning. What is it?"

John gives him a long look, and his eyes are sad and pained. "You…you were crying in your sleep last night." Before Harry can say anything, John adds, "That's usually my job," and the attempted joke doesn't land at all, and John knows it. "Sorry," he mutters, looking away.

"No sorries," Harry says from habit. They'd set a rule after the war. No apologies for things that don't need them. Not John's attempts at jokes to lighten the mood. Not Harry's overthinking making him ramble on some minor detail of his day because he's built it in his head. No apologies for just being who they are. John nods sharply to show he understands.

"You were crying in your sleep," John repeats. "I shook you, but you didn't wake up, and I…I wasn't sure what would happen if I did."

John wakes up screaming sometimes. Sometimes, not. He throws punches sometimes. Sometimes not. Harry doesn't blame him for not wanting to find out if Harry handles his own situation better or worse.

"Was I…" Harry searches for the right word. "Did I say anything?"

"No," John says. "That's why I let you sleep after I tried waking you up. You weren't—you didn't—" He stares at the ground. He hates how he wakes up. Fears that Harry will get tired of the screaming or the swinging and walk away. Others have left because he's too much, John had said exactly once, and Harry had bitten his tongue hard so he didn't demand an enemies list. Because anyone who would leave John and his wide-open heart is Harry's enemy.

"I dreamed about Bubbles," Harry says. "It wasn't sad. It was…" It's his turn to look at the ground. John's hand is next to his. They're both dirt-streaked. Harry reaches out and takes John's hand. John squeezes hard. "We were flying. Not in a fort or anything, just flying in the air. We were laughing. I don't remember why. It wasn't anything sad."

"You miss him," John says.

"Sure do," Harry agrees. He looks at the vegetable patch, at the little clapboard house. At John. Who is watching him and has been. "I wish he could visit."

John squeezes his hand again. "Me, too," he says. "I always liked him."

Harry smiles. "Yeah, so much you nearly ran us over our first day on base."

John snorts. "In my defense, I didn't know you were interesting yet."

Harry laughs and shoves at John until he falls backwards onto the tops of the carrots. "How dare you," He says. "I exude interesting."

John just laughs and pulls Harry to the ground on top of him. He hugs Harry tight and tucks his face against Harry's neck. "Well, sure, I know that now," he says and loses it when Harry tickles his sides.

Callum Turner photographed by Simon Emmett for The Hollywood Reporter cover story

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