mental link, day...36? sure.

[headinjuries]

[ Technically, it came up a few days ago, but Sam's been letting something bounce around in his head to see if the possibility gets less troublesome after he sleeps on it. And sleeps on it a couple more times.

or he's just saying it late so the newbies can hear it too, w/e

It's not getting any less freaky. So, out of left field: ]

( So if aliens can hack our emotions, do we...actually know they can't mess with everything else? Memories? Are we actually who we think we are?

What if there is no spoon? )

Comments

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ That kind of question isn't surprising, really, not when Sam's seen some of the programming in Bucky's head first hand. Doesn't make it any less of a punch in the gut when it comes, though. He keeps his thoughts behind his shields, but seriously, fuck Hydra and anyone who ever looked at this boy and thought to make him into a weapon. ]

You're allowed to say anything, that includes telling me no or to kiss your ass or whatever the hell else you feel like. You can do anything you want with me, man, all you gotta do is ask. [ He lets his shields go just enough for his sincerity to bleed through, and then he sinks back below his layer of clouds. ]

You know I got no problem telling you how it is, I like it when you do the same with me. How about I back the hell off for now, and you give me a shout if you need something?

[bracchium]

[You're allowed to say anything. Anything. Yes or no or kiss my ass or get out. Bucky's gaze snaps up to Sam, despite the programming still screeching in his ear to keep his gaze down, because eye contact implies equality and a weapon is not equal. A weapon does not get a say in how its handled. And yet, he's now allowed to say anything. He doesn't know if that's an ongoing permission or a one-time opportunity--- he hates that he has to figure the timing out, that his head doesn't seem to know what it wants--- but the sincerity bleeding through the link soaks into Bucky's skin. Sam means it. Sam means every word about letting him say what he wants.

Might as well use it now.] Get out, Wilson.

[Last names are very military and another name is difficult for Bucky to keep track of, but hell if it doesn't feel fantastic.] And thanks.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ He meets Bucky's gaze, calm and steady, no different than he would with anyone else. This has got to be hard as hell for Bucky, Sam can't even begin to know how much - well, he could, but he doesn't want to pry into Bucky's head to feel it anymore than Bucky wants him there - so the best he can do is keep treating Bucky like normal. Keep giving him space to be normal, to make decisions and sass off and have as much agency as he can.

Sam smiles, somewhere between pleased and proud and edging just a little bit into a cocky smirk as he gives a half-assed salute with his middle finger. ] Kiss my ass, Barnes.

[ There's a trickle of something softer across the mental link, though, something like anytime, as he turns on his heel to leave. ]