[ If it weren't for the way that the flavor of that want is so very Steve, Sam would think it was his own. He breathes, a sharp intake and a slow exhale. Despite the fact that Steve'd told him that he was a part of why this was home, that Sam'd returned it - that Sam'd told Damon that he went no where without Steve and Bucky and Clint, when talk of going home came up - it still catches him almost by surprise. ]
(Me too.)
[ He's not even sure if he's responding to the consciously formed words or to the feeling echoing between them. He wants to soothe away that self-consciousness, somehow, doesn't quite know how to do it except to say me too. You're not alone.
But they're supposed to be training, and he's got a feel for the shape of Steve's mental defenses now. Sam's own visual representation comes in layers, but he considers the wings to be his strongest, and it's that he focuses on now. His wings merge with Steve's steel, interconnected feathers like metal, until -
Until Steve breathes and Sam breathes with him, and damn near all of Sam's mind is laid bare. It isn't quiet, even with its steadiness - it's vibrant and alive, the warmth of a security and confidence in who he is, in knowing every step of the journey that took him there. Still, there's an undercurrent of something else. An echo of what had once been chaos, something dark and hollow. Never gone, but faded, learned to live with even if he sometimes struggles with complete acceptance.
The rest of the Nest is maybe quieter than it's ever been, but he hadn't meant to go this deep, and he - he can't even find his connection with Steve, it's like it's too wide to even grasp the edges of it. ]
no subject
( Me too. )
[ He's not even sure if he's responding to the consciously formed words or to the feeling echoing between them. He wants to soothe away that self-consciousness, somehow, doesn't quite know how to do it except to say me too. You're not alone.
But they're supposed to be training, and he's got a feel for the shape of Steve's mental defenses now. Sam's own visual representation comes in layers, but he considers the wings to be his strongest, and it's that he focuses on now. His wings merge with Steve's steel, interconnected feathers like metal, until -
Until Steve breathes and Sam breathes with him, and damn near all of Sam's mind is laid bare. It isn't quiet, even with its steadiness - it's vibrant and alive, the warmth of a security and confidence in who he is, in knowing every step of the journey that took him there. Still, there's an undercurrent of something else. An echo of what had once been chaos, something dark and hollow. Never gone, but faded, learned to live with even if he sometimes struggles with complete acceptance.
The rest of the Nest is maybe quieter than it's ever been, but he hadn't meant to go this deep, and he - he can't even find his connection with Steve, it's like it's too wide to even grasp the edges of it. ]