bracchium | c o n t a c t

[ He rests a hand on Bucky's leg absently, fingers curling into fabric of his pants as he considers that question. As he watches the light of Bucky's smile reflecting those from his own memories. ]

( You know what, why not? Belated Christmas is better than no Christmas, no reason we can't have one in April or whatever month it is now. ) [ Or whatever month it'll be when they get back. ]

[Bucky jumps at first from the contact, but the brood link hums and he calms a moment later. In fact, it becomes comforting as he sips on his drink. Combined with the memories still clinging to the corners of his mind, it tastes almost like Christmas, he thinks. His grin widens at Sam.]

( Really? ) [He can hardly believe it.]

[ Sam is slowly realizing there's a lot he'd do to get Bucky to smile like this. Or, more actually - a lot he'd do to give Bucky more reasons to smile like this. Even if Sam wasn't a little bit of a nerd over Christmas, he'd do it.

But he is, and his own expression is bright as he grins back, already planning. ]

( Yeah, man, let's do it. We can pick up some stuff here and when the mission's over - there's gotta be a tree in that big garden, we can decorate all over. )

[ He hadn't missed Bucky's first reaction to his touch, though, or the way it'd called Sam's own attention to it. They've been in contact... kind of a lot, lately, mostly when trying to ground each other. But there's no purpose for this, not really, and he doesn't want to ask Bucky is this okay or do you want me to not, because, well. Wants are difficult, and so is actually saying no to something like that.

But it only takes a moment to figure out a phrasing that even if Bucky can't answer - Sam hopes he can, but even if he can't, Sam'll at least be able to pick up on the feelings there. ]

( Are you uncomfortable? I can stop. )

[Even if Bucky wanted to close off his mind to Sam, it's hard to ignore the flashes of plans, bright lights and green trees that Bucky's not sure he's ever seen in his life. Except he has, in the pieces from his shattered mind there are hints of pine alongside the familiar silhouette of Steve. The question distracts him, though, brings him into the present and how he still isn't quite comfortable with physical touch, despite how close he and Sam have been since the programming's attempt to burn him out.

It's not that he's outright uncomfortable, but more that he still doesn't know what to expect. Part of him continues to wait for Sam to hit him or stick him with a needle; however, the symbiote hums with approval at the fingers curled into the fabric of his pants and Bucky himself likes having Sam this close, likes that Sam doesn't dance around him or pull back.

He wishes he could ignore the former and focus on the latter.]

( 's fine. )

[ Sam can't help but listen in to Bucky's feelings as he considers the question. It wouldn't have felt right, back when they first got here, but now... now it feels damn near natural, being close enough to feel what Bucky's feeling.

That's all the symbiote, sure, but this? Sitting here having a couple of drinks, wanting to lean in so their shoulders are brushing or keep his hand on Bucky's knee? He's pretty sure that's mostly them. Especially when he picks up on why Bucky is hesitant about it. No, Sam never has been one to dance around him, or do anything other than stubbornly continue to treat him as person.

It just makes Sam want to do it more, until one day all Bucky expects from it is affection. He hums a quiet agreement, shooting Bucky a smile before he downs a significant portion of his drink and shifts to bump his shoulder against Bucky's. ]

( Now I just gotta figure out what I'm gonna get you. )

[As Sam listens to Bucky, Bucky listens back to what Sam wants. He knows it isn't Sam imposing his wants on Bucky, not like Pierce, but he can't help but wish they were already to that point. Still, the programming doesn't allow him to move quickly on something like this, doesn't let him get too comfortable. At the end of the day, no matter how much Sam works with him, he's still a weapon waiting to be re-activated.

He takes a sip of his own drink and quirks his lips when Sam brushes against his shoulders.]

( Get me? ) [He didn't realize there were gifts associated with Christmas; there's nothing in his memory that says gift-giving and he's not sure he was ever given anything before Concordia and Sam's coin. Now he has two: Steve's sketchbook and Sam's coin.]

[ At the end of this day, maybe, but Sam's holding out hope for another day where Bucky sees himself as more than a weapon. When he chooses what he wants to do with his life, his skills, when he lets himself feel. A hope that might be unrealized, there is a part of Sam that acknowledges he has to be prepared for that, but everything in him is determined to see this through. No matter what. ]

( Part of Christmas, yeah. Maybe we'll make dinner, exchange presents after. )

[ There's a pause as he almost lets the rest of that go, turning his attention towards the menu to pick out their second round - but he can't. ]

( We'll get there, sunshine. I know it's slow going and I know it's frustrating as hell, but we can do it together. )

[ Sam's not going anywhere, and though he doesn't say it, he feels it. As long as Sam's breathing, Bucky will always have him. ]

[Bucky bites his lip at the mention of his frustration and picks at edges of the menu. Frustration doesn't really cover it. So much of who he is is tied up in war, in HYDRA, in what he's done, in being a weapon, a broken man. And yet Sam is here with him, trying to help him become more of Bucky with the good hair when he could be anywhere else with anyone else. Visiting the hotel reminded him of that, that there are innumerable people who care for Sam and value him and his time, and Bucky's here struggling to have a drink without bringing down the mood.

And yet Sam's sincerity is unmistakable.

Bucky wasn't uncomfortable before, but now he certainly is. When emotions rise, they're too much like a sweater tight against his skin, itching and inescapable.]

[ All right, fair enough, frustration was far too mild of a term to cover Bucky's struggle in figuring out who he was and who he's not and who he's gonna be. There's a hum of acknowledgement across their connection, and close on its heels is the feeling that if Sam wanted to be anywhere else with anyone else, he would be. The first is intentional, the second not so much, but Sam is used to that with Bucky.

Sam's had countless opportunities to walk away, and he's not here out of pity or a sense of responsibility. He's here because he wants to be. Because he likes making Bucky smile.

He tugs on one of Bucky's braids with his free hand, like he can alleviate the quiet heaviness if he stays playful. ]

( You saying you don't value my time? ) [ Their connection is already open, but now Sam draws attention to it, just a little - just enough that if the emotions are too much for Bucky, there's somewhere for him to bleed them off to. ] ( Looks to me like we need another round. )

[No, he doesn't mean that he doesn't value Sam's time. That comes fast enough, shame and frustration on its heels. Once again, he's reminded of the slicked back hair in Steve's memories and how he pales in comparison. Words will likely never be easy again. Even with something as simple as mental words, emoting thoughts alongside feelings, he can't seem to keep everything in order.

The tug to his braid is entirely unexpected and Bucky blinks at Sam in surprise. What the hell you punk---

He reaches over to finish the rest of Sam's drink in revenge. Jerk. Take that.]

( You do now. )

[ Understanding flows back - it's okay, it's fine, Sam was just teasing - and it shifts into disagreement when he picks up that Bucky thinks he doesn't hold up to the echo of himself. That Bucky is a ghost, no one Sam's ever known, and as far as Sam's concerned, he pales in comparison to the man sitting beside him.

To the one who, despite everything, came out tonight to get drinks with him and wondered why they didn't just have a Christmas whenever the hell they felt like it.

The one who just chugged the rest of Sam's drink, what the hell.

Sam laughs harder than he has in a while, his hand on Bucky's knee the only thing keeping him from sliding out off the bar stool as he shoots Bucky a displeased look that would probably have more success if he wasn't still chuckling. ]

( You're such a jackass. ) [ He waves over the bartender anyway, though. ] ( Completely out of proportion, man. )

( You pulled my hair. ) [After all, he's supposed to be Bucky with the good hair, but Sam's laughter is an excellent distraction from the weight of his worries and the burn of the alcohol is strangely soothing in a way he never thought before. He goes back to his own drink, sipping the Altin Nova as if he didn't just down Sam's.

The bartender comes over, antennae pivoting as it moves. Bucky doesn't have a second drink picked out yet.]

( Maybe I was just trying to remember if it felt as nice as it looked. ) [ But it's worked to bring them both back around, and Sam honestly doesn't mind the little dip into seriousness. It's not just Bucky - that always tends to happen, with Sam.

He asks the bartender questions about the menu, about the kind of alcohol they serve there, both to get a better idea of what's close to something that might be served on Earth and to give Bucky time to consider the options. He focuses on things similar to what they've already got, fruity and sweet or crisp and minty.

Finally he settles on something on the menu called a Wet Major. ]

[Well that's... not what Bucky expected either. He stares for a moment before directing his gaze down to his menu, not quite sure what to make of this new burst of warmth in his chest. For now, he chalks it up to still being clumsy with social interaction but there's a pleasant buzz under his skin, decidedly different from the programming's chilling hum. He can sense when Sam's settled on something with as wide open as their link is and goes for something that seems to have similar ingredients as his previous choice: Sagittarius.]

[ It's not the first time that something Sam's done made warmth spark from Bucky's side of the connection - not the first time Bucky's sparked warmth from Sam, either, only Sam usually knows what to do with it. It's different, the buzz Bucky's feeling, but it's not bad, so he doesn't draw attention to it. ...he is gonna remember it for later, though.

Sam knocks back his empty glass, like he's gonna get just a few drops left from the melted ice, as he waits for the bartender to bring their second drinks. ]

( You're a hot dog and mojitos kind of guy, huh? We gotta go on a grocery shopping run before we're done here, stock up the Station's kitchen with hot dogs. I can't remember the last time I made one that wasn't microwaved. )

[Bucky finishes up his own drink with a grin on his face. Unlike Sam, he still has most of his left. The mention of hot dogs makes Bucky's stomach growl. He seems to always be hungry now that he's not restricting his food. Also what the hell is a microwave?]

( Best is over a campfire. Next is boiling 'em. ) [From the hot dog conisseur himself.]

[ Yeah, wonder why that is. Jerk. There's nothing but contented affection coming from Sam at the moment, although his mind does immediately pull up a mental image of a microwave. ]

( Bet we could get a fire going on the Station. )

[ He hunts around for the food menu, pushing it towards Bucky. Bucky's not the only one who feels like he's always hungry, these days. ]

[Oh that thing. He remembers seeing one on Concordia. Doesn't feel right putting food in a box like that.When the food menu is shoved his way, he tries to keep his initial refusal under wraps. That part is still instinct after all this time. Most of the ingredients are foreign, like the drinks, so he's not really sure what he might like outside of his staple. So a hot dog it is.]

( Think they'll let us? )

[ It probably wasn't right, really, the hot dogs didn't taste all that great. But Sam didn't care back then. He does now, of course, and not just because Shiro seems to destroy any microwave he touches trying to cook.

He doesn't say anything about the faint hint of refusal. It's not like he expects Bucky to just get over it, and he'd rather not draw attention to it. Not when Bucky's trying, when he's already come such a long way.

Sam grins as their second round of drinks comes, shooting Bucky a sly look. ]

( I don't think I'll ask. We can do it anyway. )

[Bucky's not even tried to operate a microwave, so Shiro's got that much on him. The thought of sitting by a bonfire in a place as sterile as the Station, though, sounds awfully damn nice. A chance to get away from the rest of the Hosts in life support after they arrive back on the Station is an even better idea. Returning to the Station has never been easy, with all those minds buzzing so close together after time spread out.

When their drinks clink down on the table between them, Bucky's has a little umbrella in it, which sparks an idea.]

( You ever go camping before? )

[ Not for long. Sam's gonna teach Bucky how to cook when they're back on the Station, he's already decided. He'll trade it for lessons in the probably way to heat up hot dogs. ]

( Couple of times when I was a kid, some when I got back from overseas and couldn't deal with another night of a bed that was too soft and a room that was claustrophobic. ) [ Which is the kind of thing he only admits to people he trusts, to soldiers who know what it's like, but Bucky's both. He doesn't hesitate.

He pulls his drink towards him, a wordless hum across their mental link that's both question and encouragement to go on. ]

[That Bucky can completely understand. For the first several days of the Concordia mission, he slept on the floor instead of a bed. He's still not the biggest fan of beds, though his time on the Waypoint has been slowly changing that. He plucks the umbrella from his glass and fiddles with it as he sips on his drink.]

( Don't remember doing it before... ) [Before HYDRA, he doesn't need to say.] ( Did it after. For the first few months. )

[ Sam lifts his glass up in a silent gesture that's somewhere between acknowledgement and toast. Yeah, he gets that. He's said it a hundred or more times before, working at the VA, but they all got the same problems, to one degree or another.

It'd always helped knowing that he wasn't alone. ]

( I still think about it sometimes, when things get to be too much. You think it might help if you tried it when it gets overwhelming? ) [ He pauses, just for a moment. ] ( You think you might mind some company if you do? )

[Bucky nods in return, twirling the umbrella in his fingers, gaze distant as he gathers his memories after HYDRA, after pulling Steve from the river. He remembers feeling alone and that itch to run that still pulls at his feet while on the Station. For the longest time, all he had was his freedom.]

( Hadn't thought about it. ) [Both the camping and having company. Usually, he finds he must be alone, for the danger he poses to others.]

[ Bucky's not a danger to Sam, not like that. To others, maybe, but they know what causes it now and they know how to stop it, and Sam's not afraid for himself around Bucky. Never has been, maybe because he also won't hesitate to do what he has to in order to keep himself alive. For obvious reasons, in the past, but now also because he won't be the one to put something like that on Bucky's conscience.

It does't really matter, anyway, seeing as he believes in them both more than enough to think it'd come to that.

He understands the need for freedom, though, and he hums thoughtfully. ]

( Will you think about it now? )

желание I know you are the answer, but I forgot the question.	печь There will always be a lie in believe.
один Whatever is static is dead.	рассвет The world is too quiet.

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