[Bucky finds a store- he thinks, he's not sure, nothing seems sure right now- and makes a beeline for a bright neon sign reading cool as ice. It's some kind of walk-in cooler for liquor, but that doesn't stop Bucky from marching right in. He picks up the nearest bottle and presses it to his neck even as the refrigeration kicks on, spraying the room with some kind of liquid. He doesn't care. The cold glass against his neck is a godsend as his body continues to burn like a wildfire.
He can feel Sam growing closer, their connection widening and fanning out. His fingers curl tighter around the bottle, desperate for relief.]
(Sam.) [This time, he's bidding his broodmate closer, though he can't express it directly.]
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He can feel Sam growing closer, their connection widening and fanning out. His fingers curl tighter around the bottle, desperate for relief.]
( Sam. ) [This time, he's bidding his broodmate closer, though he can't express it directly.]