bracchium | c o n t a c t

( 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? )

[The question really shouldn't catch Bucky off guard. After all this time--- after all this talk of not going it alone--- but Bucky finds himself surprised. Surprised and suddenly pinned in place. Isolation is a part of who he is, part of the programming etched deep in his bones and everything that came after. With limited exceptions, he worked alone for seventy years. Being around people is overwhelming, even more so now with the symbiote.

He can't promise he won't listen to his instinct to run.

What he can promise, though, is that he'll try. Maybe after the fact--- after running when he realizes he's done it--- but he will try. That much he owes Sam. If Sam wants it, Bucky will give it a shot, even if Bucky thinks it's a bad idea. Flashes of the strobing lights in Berlin streak across his mind, his fingers curled about Sam's jaw. And again in DC, kicking Sam out into open air with only one wing. He's not safe.]

[ He doesn't protest the flashes of memories he gets. Bucky’s not safe when he's like that, he isn't going to deny that. But snippets of his own memories drift across, the small feeling of satisfaction when he told Bucky he wouldn't move his seat up, seeing him in the rear view mirror with a smirk that matched the one on Sam's face, Bucky’s hand warm in his with the challenge coin between them, the rush of frustrated adrenaline of their arguments in the Station, Bucky’s hair sliding through his fingers, his smile at watching the little birds hopping around, the determination in Bucky's mind when they fight the programming.

The feeling of security sleeping next to him. He bumps Bucky’s knee slightly with his own. ]

( That's only a piece of who you are. Me? I'm here for the whole package. Even the parts you ain't opened yet. ) [ Sam takes a gulp of his drink. ] ( I won’t ask you to do more than try. I'll try, too, to give you space when you need it and to apologize when I make mistakes. )

[Bucky shuts his eyes for a moment as Sam's memories play across his vision, but blinks them open again at the nudge to his knee. Setting the umbrella down on the table between them, he breathes out slowly as he worries at the edge of his lip again. For all that 'the whole package' talk, Bucky still can't help but wonder again if he's worth all this effort.

He looks down at his drink, running his fingers over the embossed ripples in the glass. Once again, he finds himself at odds with Sam's confidence that Bucky has more good parts of him tucked away somewhere in the dark.]

( Didn't think you made mistakes. )

[ It's not something Sam expects they'll see eye to eye on for a while. But Sam's not going anywhere, long as he has any say about it, and he'll keep trying. That's all he's asked of Bucky, and that's what he'll give in return.

Until maybe one day Bucky believes him when Sam says he's worth the effort, maybe he'll actually be comfortable with having someone who cares.

But he doesn't push the issue now, picking up on what Bucky chose to comment on with ease. ]

( Course it's rare, but yeah. Yeah I do. ) [ He loses the cocky smile, going a little rueful. ] ( I mostly got my shit together, you know, but I worked on it for a long time. I still got days when all I see is everything I should've done different. )

[Bucky nods along with Sam's response; he knows what it's like to wonder if things could be different. Maybe if he'd fought harder, smarter, faster he could have prevented dozens of unnecessary deaths, each connected to a web of people affected. Even now, death follows him around. But now it's under control, he tells himself.

He takes a swig of his drink before shifting a few inches closer to Sam so their knees touch. The contact brings a comforting hum to his senses and for now he lets that feeling grow.]

[ Sam's quiet for a moment, enjoying the easy companionship. It's not exactly the best topic, but... it's reality. It's why Sam's always felt the most comfortable in the company of other soldiers, of other people who get it.

And then Bucky actually initiates contact, and the smile that lights up Sam's face is... probably a little bit silly, really. The ease shifts, warms, echoes across their connection, and Sam knocks back a long drink before he looks back over at Bucky. ]

( Which one do you like the best so far? )

[For a moment, Bucky wonders if Sam will break the contact; Bucky's never been allowed to do such a thing in the past. But here and now in the bar, it feels right and the smile on Sam's face says it's okay, too. Once again, Bucky finds himself staring, unable to pull himself out of the gravity of Sam's glow.

Tapping the side of his glass, Bucky answers,] ( This one. )

[It's bright and refreshing without overloading on sweetness or the burn.]

[ He's allowed to now. It's gonna be slow going, Sam knows, even though as far as he's concerned Bucky's more than welcome to any kind of contact he wants - but it's a start, and right now, it's more than enough.

Right now Sam keeps the contact, and reaches up absently to tuck a stray strand of Bucky's hair behind his ear. ]

( Maybe next time we'll go somewhere with a beach, knock back a couple of these with our toes in the sand and watch the sunset. ) [ He sounds almost wistful, even as he catches the bartender's eyes and gestures them over. ] ( I'll settle for a pitcher and a couple of hot dogs right now. )

[When Sam begins to raise his hand from the table toward him, Bucky fights down his initial instinct to flinch. He trusts that Sam won't hurt him, not now after everything. Once Sam's fingers brush against his face, the spike of nervousness fades into the contentment resonating along their brood link. There, see? Sam wouldn't hurt him.

The thought of a beach helps to distract from the momentary panic. He remembers he went once with Steve and rode in the back of a freezer truck on the way back, but he can't remember the sensation of sand between his toes or the smell of the ocean.]

( It comes in a pitcher? )

[ He feels that spike of nervousness, faintly, and it's only after he's brushed Bucky's hair away that he connects it. Shit, of course sudden movements towards Bucky's face would make him nervous, would make him expect something else. He doesn't pull away, doesn't ask about it - at least not at the moment, not before he can figure out how.

It's nice, though, imagining them on a beach. Sam can't remember the last time he went to one for fun. He opens his mouth to reply to that question, very nearly shooting off the first response he thinks of, before he catches himself and shakes his head. ]

( If this was a date, here's where I'd tell you something dumb like "it does when you're with me" and try to impress you, or at least make you laugh. ) [ He shoots Bucky a little grin, quick and playful and just a little bit flirty before it settles into something softer. ] ( I still wanna make you laugh, but since this is you and me - why don't I tell you something real? )

[Bucky furrows his eyebrows at Sam in confusion before a grin begins to crack the corners of his mouth. He remembers going on a double date with Steve. When was it? Before HYDRA, but he remembers a crisp uniform. During the war? The girls wanted to go dancing, but Steve didn't. Bucky can't recall why. Just a salute and a hug and then another gap in his memory. Most of his memories of Steve come like this, in chunks and pieces without context. One day, he'll get them all in a row.

He hopes.

For now, he'll let himself chuckle at Sam's response. Yeah, if they were on a date, Bucky would probably be the one declining to dance these days.]

( Yeah? )

[ Sam grins back at him, shaking his head at himself. Shiro'd told him that he was out of practice at the whole dating thing when they talked about it - but truth is, so is Sam. It's been a long time since he's been on a date where he'd had to try to be on his best charming, flirty behavior. Not as long as Bucky, of course, but - that's not what they're here for.

He takes a long pull from his drink, considering his words. ]

( I always loved barbecues, you know? When I was a kid I'd be underfoot causing havoc, when I got older I'd be the first one there with my own sauce. After I got out of the military - this buddy of mine was throwing a fourth of July thing, and she's an army friend so I figure it'll be okay. No fireworks, and she'll get it if the crowds start being too much. And it's... I'm okay, you know, long as I stand far enough away what's on the grill doesn't smell like charred flesh, and long as I can hang out in the bathroom whenever pretending I'm fine starts getting to me, it's okay. But then her sister, she comes up to make sure I'm okay, and the second I smell her lilac perfume? I spend the next half hour or so throwing up. No damn idea why, but it happened every time I smelled lilac after that.

A few years later, I just started going to the VA, and I see this soldier I knew. He comes over and he's reminiscing, but all I can hear is gunfire and all I can see the way he looked the last time I saw him, more dead than alive. But I'm managing - until his wife comes over, and she's wearing lilac perfume. He tells me he used to carry a vial of it with him and it broke, that smelling it everywhere is the only thing that got him through. Turns out it stuck with us both, just in real different ways.

Point is, sometimes just because we don't remember something doesn't mean it doesn't affect us. We both got triggers we might not know about, and if we stumble on some of yours, we can figure it out. I can ask before I touch you, or telegraph it more obviously. Point is, I spent a while not caring that I wasn't part of the world, and a while pretending like I was, but this? This is real, and that means a lot to me. I hope you know that. ) [ He pauses for a moment, making another face at himself. ] ( Point is I didn't mean to take so long to get to the point. )

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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