ximilialog | [OPEN] April Catch-All

[ The panic sets in the moment that Entr'i and Angrial bring the orbs out in to the open. Only growing worse as Bucky feels that all too familiar tug. On the one hand, he knows that they need to head back to the station. That with the mission over, they'll only outstay their welcome by remaining in Giva. But on the other, there's memories of the last time he'd returned to Ximilia alongside Sam and Eleven. Of a successful mission that was quickly followed by the worst three months of his post-Blip life.

And now, as they reappear on the teleportation platform, Bucky finds himself holding his breath. His back straight and body tense, as though preparing himself to sprint across the room to catch Sam again. His gaze quickly cuts across the room, already well aware of just where the man is stood. And it's not until he finds the look returned, that he sees the proof that Sam is still very much awake and still standing, that the tight feeling in his chest unravels all at once. That he finds himself almost buckling under the sudden release of tension. And in no time at all, he's moving.

Crossing the platform to stand face to face with Sam.

Reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. To give it a squeeze to reassure them both.

Twisting metal fingers into the front of his uniform to tug him closer.

And then there's a kiss. One filled with both desperation and relief. A frenzied need to prove to himself that Sam really is right there with him. That the warm skin beneath his right hand, and the sudden uptick of Sam's heart are both very real. And proof that he's very much awake. That Bucky hasn't lost him a fourth time. Hasn't failed him yet again.

That he has a reason to continue on.

And it's only then that the rest of the room filters back in. That he's able to pick up on the conversations around them again. On the people shuffling about, regaining their bearings from their return to the station, that he remembers that there are more than just the two of them stood in that room. The aren't alone, and Bucky just-

Well, shit.

There's no warning. No fanfare. All that happens is that Bucky drops his hold on Sam and walks straight out of the room. No looking around. No goodbyes. He's out of there, ignoring everybody as he makes his not so smooth escape.

And as for Sam? Well... he's left standing behind, staring after Bucky, surrounded by every single other team mate on the Ximilia who just teleported back and got to witness that display, looking confused and surprised as you can get when you had no idea you'd get that kind of kiss planted on you. ]

Uh-...

[ And if perhaps Sam is left there looking completely stunned, like his brain has short-circuited and is still trying to reboot, no smooth recovery in sight while he tries to sift through his own relief over having returned without collapsing again like he did three months ago on his last return trip, when he felt the tug of teleportation just feeling off... well, who can blame him.

The truth is that if one happened to look closely right before Bucky stormed up, they might have caught Sam trying to shrug off a brief expression of terror morphing into deep relief. And while what sits on his face right now is far from terror, the kiss has sure wiped the beginning of a smirk right off Sam's face, and has clearly left him somewhat flabberghasted while he attempts to reconcile that he hadn't seen this coming, somehow - and quite bashful when his brain clues him into the fact that there are still a lot of people around him. He drops his gaze, rubs at his neck as warmth rises to his face, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the closest person. ]

... home sweet home?

Edited 2022-04-20 00:58 (UTC)

[Oh, Clara spies that kiss. She's crossing the distance across the platform to make her way over to Bucky for a hug and to ensure he's alright when Bucky makes his way over to kiss Sam. She stops just short of the pair, giving them some space. And does politely avert her eyes to let them feel there's privacy.

She doesn't manage to grab Bucky before he runs off, but she does catch Sam's eyes. The bashful look on his face is understandable, but she just offers him a smile as she nods in answer to his question.]

Looks like it's sweeter for some of us than others.

[Yes, that is a light tease. But she doesn't prod any further than that, laughing softly.]

It's good to see you awake, Sam.

[ Yeah, he doesn't know about that. Oh, it was a nice kiss alright, leaving Sam reeling for more reasons than just simple surprise. But the way Bucky stalked off without a word, that look in his eyes... it tells Sam that whatever just happened, he's got to shelve it in the margin of 'it's complicated'.

He just wishes he could explain what happened to the bystanders who bore witness. 'cause fuck if he himself knows, honestly. Unlike some, Sam himself certainly did not see it coming. ]

Dunno about that.

[ He tosses her a small shrug - almost helpless as he's left wondering about what shape the conversation he's gonna have to have with Bucky later will take. But for more current matters that he cannot push onto future!Sam... ]

Oh don't lie, I'm always a sight for sore eyes. Veritable Sleeping Beauty over here.

[ And his grin widens a bit as he lifts his arm a little, inviting her in for a hug of his own. ]

[Clara's grinning as she ducks under his arm, pressing against him with a tight hug.]

You're definitely handsome enough to be Sleeping Beauty.

[She teases, laughing as she pulls back enough that she can look him over. He does look good. Back to the good old Sam, ready to take on anything. She's so grateful that he's woken up.]

You missed a lot while you were sleeping. We'll have to find the time for me to catch you up on all of it.

[ So, granted - it's quite possible Sam's trying to distract himself. Quite possible. Not at all improbable, even. He's not rushing after Bucky immediately after teleporting back, that's for sure, and he's got little interest in examining the way that his fingers went numb for a long moment after returning, when panic rose in him and threatened to overwhelm before he realized he was fine, just fine, not losing any more time.

Who needs introspection?

The way he figures, though, he's not hurt the worst of the crew, so his first stop after teleporting back is the infirmary. Sam was largely concerned with protecting civilians and lending aid rather than engaging in direct combat - ever the pararescue, it seems, and if he's carrying a shield - the shield - he might as well put it to the intended use. Any conflict leaves patching up to do, though, and he's well used to soldiering through the ugly bruising his combat suit hides well, in order to put patching others up above thinking about himself.

So in the medbay, Sam dedicates himself to offering quick, skillful hands - honestly, he's glad to be in here busying himself with the necessary work of putting others together again just right, firmly ignoring the corner of the infirmary in which he'd been laid in a coma for three months and not sparing that area a single glance.

Instead, he's easy smiles that almost reach his eyes to every patient, and keeps his attention on the tasks at hand even when his thoughts want to wander. Forces himself to stick with medical equipment, bandages and disinfectant rather than touch his lips. No thoughts, head empty - that's the name of the game for now. Sam turns his attention to someone else who looks like they could do with someone who knows what he's doing and would rather not look inside himself. ]

Here, lemme help you with that.

You keep the commentary to yourself.

[ The comment isn't sharp, and upon closer look isn't even directed at whoever is within earshot. Sam holds a reprimanding finger up - to Redwing, the small, sleek drone he's so rarely seen without, that for three months followed Yelena like a loyal puppy and learned to chirp holiday songs from her.

Sam can be found wandering between the armory and the lab and tech storage, doing inventory on his gear. Find him deep within the wires and electronics of his goggles, flight suit, wing pack and the drone itself, doing some routine maintenance and calibration, restocking his weapon arsenal - and if you catch him handling micro missiles and adding them to that cute, cheerful drone, just don't question it. Or do.

At some point it looks like he's working on a new project, surrounded by an assortment of what look like different types of tranquilizer guns, with an equally varied assortment of supplies from the infirmary that could knock out anything from a human to a herd of elephants. Redwing on the work table is nearly fully disassembled while Sam is working on upgrading the drone's kit. ]

[ Sam's getting Redwing set up at his lac space, and Elthree is working on disassembling her "earpiece" network comms module at hers. (She's taken to calling it her earpiece, after having gotten tired of pointing out that she has no ears, and the thing instead was ported directly into her sensory receptors.) If she can understand the frequency at which it transmits video and audio data, then she hopes to be able to get Redwing tuned into those frequencies as well. ]

Let him fret. He was worried about you. [ A brief pause, during which she doesn't look up from her work, but her hand stills momentarily. ] ...We all were.

Are you two gonna gang up on me?

[ Sam flashes a quick smile - truth be told, the joke's unnecessary. Half the station would be ganging up on him with concern, and that makes him uncomfortable. Nevertheless... ]

Hey, no worries. 'course I bounced back - wouldn't leave my favorite lab buddy behind.

[ There's something soft in his tone, though. Keeps the words light, but the meaning real. ]

Do we need to?

[ But her pleasant tone indicates she isn't serious, and she'd be smiling back if she had a mouth with which to do so. ]

How are the tranquilizer darts coming?

[ erik rolls his eyes. ]

Get a room.

[ Sam blinks, flicking his eyes up towards Erik with no small amount of puzzlement, though his lips curl in relaxed amusement. ]

This you tryna kick me outta the lab, or you misunderstanding my relationship with my tech?

This is me callin' it like I see it. And no one wants to see this.

[ he gestures to the general area. ugh. ]

[ This does nothing to lift Sam's confusion about the overall situation. He had no idea Erik felt this strongly and seemingly intimately about the lab workspaces and people working on their tech and weapons where others can see, but well. Everyone's bound to have a quirk or two. ]

Well I mean, if only I'd known seeing Redwing's electronics all exposed to heavy duty calibration tools offended your sensibilities... I'd have teased you about that a lot sooner. Didn't think anyone found Redwing that sexy.

[ Sam pats the mostly disassembled drone and adds, needlessly directed at his woefully non-sentient gear: ]

No offense, buddy.

I've got tech standards, that's all.

[ also drones are . . . well, not great. they inspire a lot of fear in other countries. ]

Edited 2022-04-27 05:21 (UTC)

[ Right - Sam will be sure to pass Eric's opinion on Shuri's technological standards on to her at the nearest convenience. He deserves a medal for not rolling his eyes, honestly. ]

Something crawl up your ass and die there today, man?

[ Sam's face sets into something a little less warm, but there's no heat beyond a mild curl of annoyance to his words. Nothing to be gained from rising to the bait, after all, and Erik's opinion of Redwing 2.0 or Sam's work in the lab space hardly ranks high enough to get under Sam's skin. ]

[R0-GR's in his own little hideaway in the corner of tech storage that he set up specifically to work on his own weapons project, his very own electrostaff, when Sam speaking to Redwing diverts his attention off of it. He peeks out, leaving the high-tech weapon and the equipment and goggles he was using in his small sanctuary, to look at Sam's work. He steps out so that he can get a closer look at the tranquilizer.

Simply out of curiousity, he tries to figure out their function, and as a result asks] Is that some kind of... poison?

[ In the days following their return, Sam can often be found in the training room. Even under McCoy's expert care, three months in a coma meant losing muscle mass, and Sam's putting in the work of getting back into his usually excellent shape and bulk. Find him engaged in various training exercises, with and without his shield, pushing himself as far as he can take, and then perhaps just a little more. Feel free to join him in combat or general fitness training, force him to take a break, or observe him eventually on his back, exhausted, dark skin glistening, arms spread out and legs comfortably bent, muttering an emphatic: ]

Fuck me.

( Hand to hand is one of those things people seem to expect him to eschew. As a doctor, Do No Harm tends to run counter to learning how to fight, because harm is sometimes part of the equation. Like learning how to shoot a phaser, it's also a necessity– in a crisis, he won't be a liability. That's something his pride just won't countenance, besides, refusing to let him go down meekly.

McCoy was never a soldier and will never be a soldier, but he's tangled with a few, and restrained more than that over the years in the name of medicine, or just not-getting-his-ass-handed-to-him, or both.

Sam is a perfect opponent whether he knows it or not, because he's unselfish, because he knows this is about training, not winning. The first time McCoy's back hits the mat, he wants to get right up again, to keep going, and amazes himself when he does. After several days spent soaking up his husband when he wasn't feeling the ragged downturn of heart-stopping anxiety, the endorphin rush is a welcome one, and he even grins as they go toe to toe once more.

Afterward, while Sam lies supine and McCoy rests back on his elbows, catching their breath together, he lets go a soft laugh. )

I'll have to ask Jim. Drink this.

( He nudges Sam's hand with a thermos full of an electrolyte drink. )

[ It comes with the territory perhaps - Sam is very much used to training for the sake of training, not for the sake of winning the upper hand, giving that in his time as an Avenger he regularly hit the mat with people who's powers or combat expertise far outstripped his. He's far from unskilled - damn near as superhuman as one can get through regular means in order to pull off maneuvers in mid air. But at the end of the day he's still just a guy who was out of the Air Force for years before he jumped head first back into things with Captain America. And while he prides himself on being able to gain the upper hand on Steve in training a handful of times, Sam - for all that he is competitive - has never felt the need to make training a dick measuring contest.

Would have probably lost that one anyway, come to think of it. Stupid super soldier serum and all that.

He snorts at the way his own mind tumbles into the gutter, cracking one eye open so as not to fish for the bottle McCoy offers blindly. ]

Thanks, Doc. And careful what you wish for. I'm a goddamn snack, and you two should be so lucky.

[ Throws McCoy a charming smile for good measure. It's friendly flirting, and they've worked hand in hand in the infirmary enough times that McCoy knows Sam can be a shameless flirt with people he likes. Jim and McCoy both happen to be on that list, and have both been treated to Sam's bashfulness when on the receiving end of that same kind of treatment, too. ]

[ It takes him a moment after how utterly blindsided he is by the kiss, but Sam does shoot Bucky a message after a moment - not expecting it to be read much less responded to immediately. It reads: ]

medbay needs hands, but you holler and I'm there. or if you need time, you know you have it. otherwise, you + me + bed for words later, yeah?

[ It's not all he wants to say, but it's all he thinks he can put on Bucky for now without spooking the man out of the nearest airlock, he thinks. It shouldn't be on Sam to manage the guy after what Bucky pulled, but Sam also knows it ain't quite as simple as 'my best friend and partner kissed me and ran off', not with Bucky involved.

Shit, he hadn't even realized that any of that was an option, much less actually on the table, and Sam can't quite discount the possibility of it not quite being as straight-forward as romantic or sexual desire, either. Not with Bucky's history, not with how much Sam has to imagine this was driven by the same sheer relief he himself had felt upon realizing he'd teleported back without issue, without keeling over. It had nearly floored Sam himself, so he can imagine how Bucky felt, who'd sat next to who he'd once called the only person he had left, waiting for Sam to wake up.

And as for Sam himself... he keeps a careful lid on his own heart, now more so than ever. Doesn't allow himself to think, question, examine what's knotted up in his chest all day, not until he's talked to Bucky. Because Sam's always been guarded with his heart, with his truth.

Bucky's not in the room when Sam returns eventually, so he takes his time showering, washing the mission away, and crawling into bed just to breathe and exist for a while. By the time Bucky returns, Sam's not even close to feeling drowsy, but he feels more relaxed again - having traded the smell of disinfectant for his lotion, and his combat suit for comfortable clothes. The shirt may or may not be one he stole from Bucky months ago. ]

You good?

Edited 2022-04-20 01:44 (UTC)

[By the time he finally makes it back to the room, Bucky's still no closer to figuring out his next steps. No closer to truly understanding just why he did what he did. Or even, why it matters so much to him in the first place. He knows that the two of them are close. Closer than friends should be. They work together. Live together, here. Share a bed on most nights. What the two of them have goes so far beyond the realm of 'a couple of guys' that he isn't sure they can ever go back to what they were before coming to Ximilia. And if he's honest with himself, well-

He doesn't want to.

So when the door slides open and Bucky sets foot in the room again, he ends up stopping short at the sight of Sam already laid out in bed. Sure, he'd known that the two of them would ultimately end up face to face again before the day was out. That, no matter what else was going on, his need to see Sam would outweigh any other instinct he has. But that doesn't mean he's any better prepared for it.

So the question is only met with a stiff nod, before he heads off to the bathroom to clean up. Two battles worth of blood and sweat had been ignored in favor of spending time with Eleven. But now, back in a closed room again, he's never been any more aware of just how much he smells right now. So clearly he needs to remedy that.

...and if it also means he can avoid the elephant in the room for a little longer, that's just an added bonus.]

Turn the light off if you want. I'll be a while.

Take your time.

[ Sam means that. He's... strangely anxious, a mixture between unsure and impatient that he's not enjoying much ]

You look like you need it.

[ And he can't quite decide if he wants to sound like he's kidding, like he's saying 'you look like shit' in their usual banter, or if he means it softly, like saying 'be gentle with yourself, I understand you're struggling with this'. Perhaps it means both.

Perhaps he doesn't know how to say 'Don't leave me hanging too long' when he feels like he's treading ice without knowing if it's thin or sturdy. He wants to be incensed, because what Bucky did was deeply unfair - and it's not that Sam's rolling over and accepting that, it's just that he knows by now that Bucky does this, that he runs and hides, but also knows that Bucky's learned the value of showing up for Sam. Perhaps they both need a little faith in each other to figure this out. ]

Light's stayin'. And don't think I won't come in there if you end up tryna wait me out.

[ And that gets a pointed, but not harsh look. A soft way, perhaps, to tell Bucky that while Sam would prefer Bucky come to him on his own merit, he's not gonna let him hide forever, either.

Sam needs this conversation for his own sake as much as he truly believes Bucky needs it, whether he wants it or not. ]

You can say I look like shit. Smell like it too.

[It's an off-handed comment. A mutter, right as he heads into the bathroom with an armful of clothes and locks himself away. After the fight with V'rizz though, he doesn't think he can really be blamed for just how little energy there is behind the words. His actions. He tired, in every possible way. And the only reason he's made it as long as he has today is because he had Eleven right there with him. But now that he's back, he has no reason to hide it. No reason to play pretend. Not when Sam is the only one around to bear witness to it in those brief moments before he's back behind a door again.

His usual five minute shower turns in to thirty. The water is kept cold despite his aversion to all things frosty. But with the memory of his own flesh melting off of him, of the heat rising and his body collapsing out from beneath him, he needs it right now. Illusion or not, he has the real memories to back them up. Knows just how long it takes for his skin to blister, to bleed. Knows how it smells, how it feels. The soviets, Hydra, SHIELD. And now-

(He wants a hot shower. He really does. Wants to be able to ease the tension of his muscles. The ache of his bones. Wants to feels human.)

Eventually, the water's turned off, and Bucky forces himself through the motions of getting dried off. Of tugging on a pair of boxers, and a shirt that's been shared between them both so many times over their time here that there's no way of saying who owned it first. (Sam. It's Sam's.) He may not feel like a new person, but it's a good first step.

When he finally heads back out again, he detours to the light switch, flipping it off to leave them in the semi-illumination of the bathroom light. It's not quite the privacy he wants. But it's just enough for him to hide behind. Enough for him to remind himself of the last time they were here. Of trying to help Sam piece himself back together again after all they lost. And now, here he is, failing the man yet again. Some friend he is.]

The doc check you out yet?

Mhm. Anytime I walk by him.

[ Sam keeps his eyes on Bucky as he emerges from the shower. There's a palpable gulf between them that has nothing to do with physical distance, even as Sam waits for the man to get into bed. He's tired, so very tired, but he feels like a live wire at the same time, buzzing under the skin and sure to find no rest while so much hangs in a precarious balance.

The joke is half-cocked though. He can feel the way something in himself begins to close itself off a little further, curling in on itself protectively. Sam realizes he's resigning himself ahead of time - Bucky doesn't seem to want this conversation. And he's so tired of holding these things together for Bucky's sake. Will still do it, though. Of course, he will. Sam doesn't walk away from the way in which the people around him make him carry way too much.

He'll bear it, until he can't. And when that happens, he'll close off avenues of resolution as he did in an impromptu therapy session he had no business getting dragged into.

Bucky seems more interesting in avoiding the elephant in the room. And that, perhaps, tells Sam all he needs to know.

It's a good thing he decided not to examine his own feelings on the matter all too closely yet. The ache rings hollow regardless. ]

Don't worry. He insisted on making sure I was alright. Got the all clear right away.

[The comment earns a quirk of his lips, as hidden as it may be in the relative dimness of the room. But it serves its purpose. Has a fraction of tension slip away from him at the familiarity of it all. Of Sam making light of a situation in an attempt to bring some levity to the moment. Yet again, Bucky is causing a problem, and Sam is stuck trying to clean up after him. Only this time, well-

He knows what he has to do.

There's a few moments spent scrubbing his hair dry with a towel, not caring about the mess he makes when he ends up tossing it in a corner once he's done. All that matters right now is Sam. And the first step to fixing things between them is...a literal first step. Plus a few more. Enough to have him cross the room to stand by the side of the bed instead.]

Facing away.

[The position he needs Sam in. Because no matter what happened the last time they were together, the idea of climbing in to his own bed still fills him with dread. The mission hadn't really afforded them all that much downtime. Not once the threat of war had reared its head. So now, with them locked away from the rest of the station and the memory of their reunion here still fresh in his mind, he knows it's on him to take that first step. That he's solely to blame for the air of tension that surrounds them both.]

[ Sam doesn't follow the request immediately. Truth be told, he's not surprised. There are times when they're facing each other, comfortably tucked together so they can look into each other's eyes while talking. Sharing. And then there are times and topics that are hard for one or both of them, when it's easier to whisper words into the darkness without having to avoid someone's gaze if you can't meet it. For a moment, Sam stays still, brown eyes liquid black in the dim light. Regards Bucky's barely visibly form, the sharp cut of his cheek bone and jaw, the hair he's been growing out again. Finally, he gives a small nod, and then rolls around, offers his back to Bucky and making space for him to curl up right there.

He could insist that this is a topic best discussed without spooning, without the level of intimacy that has clearly contributed to whatever Bucky is or isn't feeling. But that wouldn't feel true to them anymore. This is just what they do now, and Sam wouldn't change it. Is glad, all the same, that he won't be able to search for the conflict, shame or guilt that might be in Bucky's eyes, too blue even in the dim lighting.

And like that he waits for the all too familiar way in which the mattress dips under Bucky's weight, for the all too familiar way he'll wrap around Sam. And he trusts Bucky to come to him, for better or worse. ]

[There's a moment of hesitation, of second-guessing his request, that comes as a result of Sam's own pause. He knows that the man has every right to refuse. Every right to deny Bucky that privilege and send him back to his own bed instead. But before he can step away to make that decision simpler for him, Sam's moving. Rolling over. And Bucky, well, he isn't going to waste any more time than he already has.

And so he pulls the covers back. Climbs in with more care than he usually would. He's on thin ice already, and being given this feels like an honor that he's nowhere near close to having earned back again. So he's going to cherish every moment of it. Which is why, when he curls up around Sam's body, his hold is that little bit tighter than normal. Why, despite the warmth of Sam's skin and the covers tugger around them, he can't quite contain the shiver that runs through him. The few times they've shared a bed since Sam woke back up isn't anywhere near enough to make up for those three months. But it's a start.

For a long while, he stays silent. Doesn't do anything more than bask in their closeness. Breathes in his scent and relaxes in the familiarity of it all. Of having the only person left who truly matters to him nearby. His hand (right, by default) ends up pressed to Sam's sternum, feeling the steady beat of his heart. The rise and fall of his chest with each breath. It's grounding, in its own right. And enough to have him finally break the silence anew.]

I'm sorry.

[His words are quiet, murmured against the nape of Sam's neck, where his face is tucked in close. There's a bigger conversation to be had. Something far better suited to once they've both had some real rest. But he knows if he doesn't at least get a few truths off his chest now, neither of them are getting to sleep tonight.]

You deserve better than that.

[Better than him. But that's a given.]

[ Sam can't relax fully, but damn if he doesn't want to. Bucky's arm around his middle, hand settling over his sternum. The warm, solid weight of it. Familiar and comfortable. He feels safe here, is the truth of it. And he has to believe that whatever this conversation brings, he'll continue to feel safe here. The complications of a kiss will not rob him of that.

The grip being a little tigther than usual is a balm on the anxious buzzing under his skin. He's safe here. The only thing that can hurt him here is Bucky.

He reaches up, puts his arm over Bucky's. Allows himself a moment to just feel this. And then Sam closes his eyes, trying to steel himself. ]

Gonna need you to elaborate.

[ What's he sorry for, exactly. The kiss? Running away? Both? Neither? ]

[He may have known that wouldn't be enough. But there's a small part of him that had hoped it was anyway. That wished Sam was able to read in to what little he said and understood what he really means. But Sam isn't a telepath. He can't read minds. And even if he were, Bucky knows, without a doubt, that Sam wouldn't do something like that in the first place. Would neither give him the easy way out over something like this, nor break his trust by rooting around in his head in the first place.

No, Bucky is on his own here. Whether he likes it or not.]

I kissed you.

[It's only a small part of his answer. But it's the first that he needs to address. That impulsive moment where he took something from Sam without his permission. Where he let his relief outshine his restraint, and took the first step to ruining their return for both of them. He's just really hoping it isn't too late to try and fix things.]

Kissed you. Then I ran. And stayed away.

[Which is a whole other issue. He forced a kiss on Sam, and then ran away without any explanation. Let him behind to deal with the fallout alone. He really is doing the worst possible job of being a friend.]

I should've stuck round. Apologized for doing that do you. Embarrassing you in front of everyone. [A pause, and he adds-]

...should've asked before I kissed you too.

[ So he's not just apologizing for running and staying away - he's also apologizing for the kiss itself. Or just for not asking? Sam wants to bullrush through this so badly, wants to ask for clarifications upon clarifications. Takes a deep slow breath to keep his snark at bay in response. Hiding his growing hurt behind sarcasm and barbed wire wrapped around his tongue - they've been there, both of them. They've done that. Sam knows they're past that, but also knows it'd be all too easy to fall back into it. Knows he himself can easily get prickly and defensive when something hits too close to home and makes him feel vulnerable. ]

Asking's not the worst idea, generally speaking.

[ Quietly. Would he have said yes? Sam pushes the thought aside. That doesn't matter right now. He doesn't want to put Bucky through a gauntlet, has no intention of punishing the man either way, but the air between them is far from cleared. ]

Wasn't embarrassed, and don't give a shit about what others think.

[ Surprisingly difficult to admit, that. But it's the truth. Sam's spent too much time hiding himself and his love away in the past, being too scared of discovery, to still bother with the need to hide. He'd always figured if he ever got in another relationship, he'd refuse to treat it like a dirty little secret. The south is still not the best place for some relationship forms, but in Delacroix at least, Sam knows people don't care. So no, he does not find public displays of affection bothersome anymore. If he were in a relationship, he might not be caught with his tongue permanently down his partner's throat where others can see, but a public kiss or ass grab also wouldn't phase him.

Bucky put him on the spot, but it's not embarrassment Sam felt. ]

I wasn't upset either. Or disgusted, or angry, or any of the things I'm sure you're worrying about. You caught me by surprise is all.

[ Sam shifts a little. The reassurance isn't a hard thing to offer, because no matter how this goes, that's something Sam needs Bucky to understand. What he agrees on is: ]

Yeah, you should have stuck around. But I get it - you're a colossal dumbass.

[ A small, not painful pinch to Bucky's arm to drive that point home, because that will never not be true and carries no true heat. Sam's thumb soothes over the skin he pinched immediately, too. Feels Bucky's heartbeat against his back. Sighs, soft. ]

Tell me which part about this freaked you out. That your relief bubbled over into a reaction you didn't plan? That you kissed someone black, or that you kissed a dude?

[ Because they're option. Bucky's literally from a different day and age, and Sam has no idea how much certain views might have sunk in deep, after all. ]

If I had an issue with you being black, do you really think we'd be where we are now?

[With Sam being his best friend, partner, and family, all rolled in to one. Twenties kid or not, race has never mattered to him. Sure, there are large pieces of Sam's life that he'll never fully understand. That he'll never experience firsthand, by virtue of the fact that he's white. But now that he's finally gotten his head out of his own ass, he can at least try to educate himself more. To be there for the Wilson family however he can.

So no, it isn't race. But the other options that Sam mentioned-

Not being in control of his own actions is something he'll never fully be able to accept. Sure, this time wasn't the same as having his autonomy forcibly taken from him. But he functions better, knowing that his choices are his own. That he can remain in control of himself, regardless of the situation. And he hadn't managed that, earlier. Hadn't known he was going to kiss Sam until he was already doing it.

And then there's the idea of that kiss being with another man. Sexuality may mean very little to him in the wider context. He has no issue with people being with whoever they want. But when it comes to himself, it's a little more difficult to wrap his mind around. To accept that he doesn't need to hold himself to past standards. To fully understand that the world has finally moved on and openly displaying any attraction toward people of the same sex isn't met with the same level of vitriol and hate that it once was. That it isn't the death sentence that it used to be.

It's the twenty-first century. And the only person whose opinion matters in all this is Sam. He knows that. Now he just needs to believe it too.]

It was a mistake.

[Except that's not quite what he wants to say. Not the message he wants to get across here. He needs Sam to understand. To see through the clumsiness of his words and find the message instead.]

Should've asked you once we were back here. Kept it between us instead.

[ He'll have to explain it to Bucky sometimes, perhaps. That there are levels to this. That you can be friends with someone, be close to someone, and still find that one core aspect to be more important in a bad way than you thought. That Bucky would be far from the first guy to discover that line while toeing it. Sam's not kidding when he pushes on that point sometimes - because no matter how little Bucky or Steve care about such things, no matter how good they are, they were raised in a different time, and what better way for some of that to rear its head than a kiss you clearly didn't plan or think through.

Still. It's a relief to know that's a non-issue with Bucky.

Short lived relief. 'It was a mistake' rings in Sam's find for a moment. He can feel it sink into his chest like a lead weight bending his ribs inwards, and... oh. Oh.

It takes him a moment to fully parse what Bucky says next, too focused on remaining calm and not showing the way 'It was a mistake' made him feel, if only for a moment, like his world fell out from under him. The answer to a question he hasn't yet asked himself. Sam breathes, forces himself to remain calm and still. As if his heartbeat didn't kick up a notch when, for just a second, he thought Bucky was saying that kissing Sam had been a mistake, full stop.

The amendment soothes him almost immediately, once the words catch up to his mind. ]

So you would have done it, then? Waited for us to be alone, asked to kiss me, then - you would have still wanted to, given time to think it over?

[ And he won't tell Bucky whether he'd have said yes or no. Because he's not going to lead with the answer when Bucky's the one who has some explaining to do. When Bucky needs to find the words to say what it is he wants without the luxury of knowing Sam's mind on the matter just yet. ]

...I don't know.

[His words are barely a murmur once again, spoken only after an entirely too long moment of silence. Finding the words he needs when it comes to his feelings will always be difficult to him. After decades of being incapable of having thoughts and feelings of his own, its been an uphill struggle to even accept that things have changed. Yet alone trying to push himself far enough to state any of them aloud. There's a reason that Raynor had taken the methods she had. Had backed him in to corners until he finally cracked enough to say a few words. Sure, there were undoubtedly better ways to go about it all. But it'd worked. Sort of.

This though- This is one time where he wants to make the effort. Wants to find the words he needs to explain all this to Sam. After all he's put Sam through over the time they've known one another, he owes it to him.

And if he's being honest, he also doesn't like the idea of hiding things from the man. Not when he knows, down to his very core, that he can trust Sam no matter what. That he wouldn't belittle him for anything that's shared between the two of them here. They're friends. Partners. And he'll fight to keep their connection in place.]

I ain't got a problem with queer people. But I'm not one. [A beat, and a barely audible-] Not sure what I am anymore.

[Sure, he more than appreciates the way Sam looks. The way he feels when the two of them curl up in bed together each night. And sure, he may feel a lot more strongly about him than he's felt for any other person he's met during his extended lifetime. Even Steve, practically his brother, had been different. Growing up, he'd seen a future where their lives were connected. With Sam-

With Sam, they're entwined. Fused together in a way he's still trying to process, even now.]

Would've never asked, cause it's not something I really think about. [Sure, he'll flirt. He'll tease. But there's never been any real intention behind it. Until now, apparently.] Ain't been that kind of guy for a long time.

Edited 2022-05-11 11:43 (UTC)

[ A snort. Yeah, right. ]

The word ain't much of a bad one anymore, but if you think it's a bad one, don't use it like that.

[ This is a surprisingly complicated conversation to navigate. Important, though - Bucky's obviously still struggling with many parts of himself, and Sam gets that - the guy had to piece any semblance of self together, where would he have had time to spare to consider whether he's straight or just conditioned by a society long past into not considering other options? Wouldn't be the first person in the world to figure shit out about themselves as they grow older and the world around them changes.

Hell, they got gay robots on the station. What's a queer pseudo-cyborg who doesn't know the umbrella term likely applies to him? ]

Hate to break it to you, Buck... [ Sam turns a little, enough so Bucky can see the shape of his profile in the semi-darkness, enough that Sam can sort of glance his way without breaking their position. ] ... but if you wanna kiss a dude, even just kinda, even just maybe, then you're definitely some kinda something, no matter what you thought - or were allowed to think. Way I see it, people like what they like - who cares what you call it? I didn't exactly grew up in the most progressive pocket of the world, either, y'know.

[ Sam turns his head back, lets his gaze slide into the darkness across from them. Feels soft puffs of breath against his neck and remembers the press of lips against his. ]

You can like and be whatever the hell you want, Bucky. Like women and call this a one-time fluke if you're more comfortable with that. Or like women and the occasional guy. Ain't a thing you gotta decide on now anyway, ain't a thing you ever gotta put a name to if you don't wanna, either. And I mean, hell, who can blame you. I'm a goddamn snack, who wouldn't wanna kiss me?

[ A smile creeps into his voice. ]

Wasn't that bad for a first kiss since ye olden days. Though if you kiss me and walk away not even being a little into dudes, maybe I've lost my touch in the past half a decade.

[He knows he could take the opening that Sam's offered him. Knows he could try to lighten the conversation. That he could push past the awkwardness and shy away from just what had happened, and Sam would allow it. Because that's just the kind of person he is. The kind of friend that Bucky knows he doesn't really deserve. Not after all he's put the man through. And it's that thought alone that has him refusing to follow up on that quip. To maintain the seriousness of it all. Because he owes Sam the truth. However messy it might be to explain.

His grip loosens momentarily, hand slipping back to Sam's waist to nudge him over. To try and get him to roll over to face him. There's no more hiding. No more burying his face in the sand and letting this all wash over him. Sam's given him this opportunity to talk, and he won't waste it.]

...it ain't about what's between your legs.

[Not completely. Sure, the idea of feeling anything like this for another man is throwing up a whole lot of confused thoughts. He remembers seeing people dragged through the streets for even showing a hint of affection towards another guy. Hell, he's even been on the receiving end of a punch or two when people had read too far in to his friendship with Steve. So while he knows that the world has changed since then, that looking at Sam the wrong way won't result in him being jumped in a dark alley, knowing and understanding are two very different things.

So it's only once Sam's facing him again, only once he's able to force himself in to making eye contact again, that he puts any kind of strength behind his words. That he stops hiding, and finally says-]

The way I feel about you- It's...different.

[Well, it's a start. But he has to take a moment then, his gaze cutting away briefly as he carefully figures out his next words.]

Before the war, I dated. A lot. Took dames out to dancehalls. Slept with...a bunch of 'em. But neither of us would ever go in to things looking for something serious. I was just- [A shrug] I was the fella you said yes to cause you wanted a good night out.

[And he was happy with it. Nothing to tie him down. Nothing to get in the way of him forging his own path in life. Family commitments aside, of course. But he means it when he says he isn't the same person he used to be. He's changed a whole lot over the last eighty years. And there's no way of going back to who he used to be.]

You called me family. Said I had a place with you. Those three months- That was the only thing that kept me going. Knowing that when you woke up, I'd still have that. [Have Sam in his life. A reason to keep fighting. To not give up again.]

I don't want to lose that- Lose you, just because I'm... [Huff] An emotionally constipated cyborg who doesn't realize how damn lucky I am.

[ Sam lets it wash over him. Lets himself get lose in Bucky's voice and his words, hell, lets himself be maneuvered into turning over again, too. Just... listens for a while. And tries to process, because it's... a lot. It's not what he thought would happen after Bucky ran off, he'll be honest with that. Sam steeled himself for a gentle but awkward rejection before he'd even ever come to terms with his own feelings on the matter.

'The way I feel about you'...

That hits different, and Sam feels as blindsided by it as he did by the kiss.

So in the end, he cups Bucky's face. Gentle. Hands surprisingly soft for all the work and training he does. Feels the light scrape of stubble under his palms, the sharp angles of Bucky's jaw. ]

I need you to hear me on this. You ain't losing me. Don't matter what you choose here - we'll be friends and partners still. Ain't no changing that.

[ A small, matching huff. ]

Not gonna argue with how lucky you are to have me, though. That's just the truth right there.

[ But does Bucky have him?

Bucky's eyes are too blue eve in the mostly dark, and Sam feels himself tremble a little, nerves alight with the tense anticipation he holds. Refuses to take the ball though, leaves it in Bucky's court instead. And that's what makes his hard, doesn't it. This is not a choice Sam will make for the two of them - this isn't a choice he's gonna make particularly easy on Bucky, either. He can't put himself out there like that on nothing but faith and trust alone. ]

Tell me how you feel about me. And tell me what you want to do about it.

[ Put a name to it. Make it clear what you want, one way or another. That is what Sam needs from him, with his heard feeling like a small, wounded thing in his chest. He can't allow himself to think about how long it's been for him since... and he'll be that for Bucky, gladly. He'll be the reason he keeps going. He'll be his friend and his partner. The question is what else Bucky would want him to be - or what else Bucky will reject him from becoming. ]

...I don't know what to say.

[And that's the crux of the problem. Feeling something is easy. Explaining it, not so much. He isn't sure where to even begin putting in to words just how he feels, because he doesn't know how. Doesn't know if the words even exist to explain it all. To show Sam just how deeply those feelings go. Actions though- They're easier. Come more naturally to him. After eighty years of staying mostly silent, showing feels more normal that forcing out words that can be twisted in all the wrong ways.

So while he's able to keep that eye contact, even through the darkness, he isn't able to find any more words than that. Isn't able to give Sam what he's looking for, no matter how much he doesn't want to disappoint the man. He owes Sam everything. And yet, once again, he's falling short when it actually matters.

Which is why he instead ends up relaxing in to Sam's hold. Ends up pressing into the hand on his face. Why, after only the smallest of hesitations, he brushes his lips on the palm of Sam's hand. A precursor to a kiss that he still doesn't know quite how welcome it is. Sam may be leaving the ball in his court, but it's a game that Bucky hasn't played for a long time.]

[ No, it's not what Sam wants to hear. But the silence in itself is an answer, small and tentative as it might be. As is the press of lips to his palm. The slight scrape of stubble.

Sam can't help it - the way his eyes drop to Bucky's mouth.

He might set himself up for hurt here. Might accept that Bucky won't ever be able to overcome the circumstances of all he'd been raised to be both in the 40s and by Hydra. Maybe he'll never figure out what he wants from Sam, what he feels. And inevitable, that will mean he won't have all of Sam.

But there's a landscape between now and then, a world between everything and nothing. And there's a window of time he can give Bucky, perhaps. ]

I can't be your little experiment.

[ That needs to be said. ]

But... you don't gotta figure it out right now.

[ His thumb moves a little, strokes over Bucky's face. ]

At some point, you're gonna have to make choices and find those words. You're gonna have to know. Until then, you can have my patience for a while. And I ain't gonna pull back, if you lean in. Never did.

This ain't an experiment.

[He might not know exactly what this is between them, but he can at least say that much. He wouldn't do that to anybody. Least of all Sam. The man means too much to him for all of this to be some kind of a game. His feelings matter. So he isn't going to abuse the trust that Sam's placing in him by being this open.

The rest of what he wants to say take a few moments to be aired. Takes time for him to form the words he needs. Sam may be offering him a way out, however temporary it might be. But he doesn't want to take him up on it. Not yet. Not when, well-]

...way I see it, it's you, or no one.

[Because this isn't something he can picture with anybody else. This level of trust. This ability to truly be himself. To be free to figure out the man he is now, without the ghosts of his past being held against him. Sam's had his back for so long now. Even when they were at odds with each other, when he was nothing more than a nuisance in the way of him fulfilling his mission. Or a tail, half way around the world. Sam's been there. Has been on his side, despite just how dangerous a place that is to be.

There's a lot he still needs to figure out. Even more that he needs to work on. But with Sam, that isn't as daunting of a task as it once was. And being able to discover this side of himself, well, it's a side he only see Sam being the recipient of. And he wouldn't change that for anything.]

[OPEN] April Catch-All - On And On

[OPEN] Teleporter Room (ft. Bucky Barnes guest appearance)

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I SUPER missed this response, I am SO sorry

no worries!!

[OPEN] Infirmary

[OPEN] Armory, Lab/Tech Storage

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[OPEN] Training Room

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[CLOSED] Bucky Barnes

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cw: mentions of gore/torture

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cw: 40s homophobia

shows up super late without starbucks

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