[Bucky's stomach has barely begun to turn when he feels a warm hand threaded through his own, drawing him back to the present. He echoes the grip and focuses on the images and sensations pouring over the link. It's strange to see the source of the vibrant jewel tones that make up the foundation of Sam's mind, stranger still to see them in this sort-of firsthand way. He shuts his eyes to allow them to wash into his mind and quiet the simmering acid of guilt.
He doesn't remember any of that, but he's glad that Sam does.]
no subject
He doesn't remember any of that, but he's glad that Sam does.]
( That where you got your thing with birds? )