[ Sam's not going anywhere. Never will, as far as he's concerned - honestly, he's not even sure anything could separate them completely at this point, but he's good with that.
He waits until Bucky's in his mind before continuing, lacing the fragments of him around his mind like he's threading their fingers together. Slotting his pieces right next to Bucky's, the easy slide of a damn near perfect fit despite any ragged edges.
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He waits until Bucky's in his mind before continuing, lacing the fragments of him around his mind like he's threading their fingers together. Slotting his pieces right next to Bucky's, the easy slide of a damn near perfect fit despite any ragged edges.
I'm here. ]
ржaвый. Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. добросердечный.