[ There's the ghost sensation of someone pulling his own hair, despite the fact that it's been a long time since it was long enough to get yanked on, but Sam shakes himself free of it. Instead, he focuses on his hand in Bucky's hair, keeping his touch gentle, fingertips scratching gently over his scalp. It' always been about changing the experience a little, taking something expected and making it new - creating a dissonance to keep Bucky here with him, open things up and let him see there's more out there.
When the memories strain, become vaguer, and the faces start surfacing - he knows, this should be the place where they're pushed away, where everything is cleared.
Not this time. There's no wipe coming, no punishment, no orders for the next mission, no more people to kill.
Just the two of them. ]
(Your memories are your own, Bucky, you can have them.) [ He untangles his fingers from Bucky's hair to press his palm over Bucky's heart, a mirror of how he's holding Bucky's own hand to Sam's chest. The last time they did this it'd been too hard to keep themselves separate, but that -
That doesn't matter now. There's no need for them to be separate while they do this. ]
no subject
When the memories strain, become vaguer, and the faces start surfacing - he knows, this should be the place where they're pushed away, where everything is cleared.
Not this time. There's no wipe coming, no punishment, no orders for the next mission, no more people to kill.
Just the two of them. ]
( Your memories are your own, Bucky, you can have them. ) [ He untangles his fingers from Bucky's hair to press his palm over Bucky's heart, a mirror of how he's holding Bucky's own hand to Sam's chest. The last time they did this it'd been too hard to keep themselves separate, but that -
That doesn't matter now. There's no need for them to be separate while they do this. ]