[ Sam closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Bucky's as he breaths, nice and slow. The chill of the wind ruffles through his feathers, calm and soothing, and it's - almost comfortable, sitting like this. Like they belong.
Maybe it should concern Sam, how close together they are, but it doesn't. He made his choice ages ago, and there's nothing that makes him regret it now.
His fingers pet through Bucky's hair, as much as they can with the feathers and the braids, his other hand sprawled against Bucky's back, as he settles in to wait it out. ]
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Maybe it should concern Sam, how close together they are, but it doesn't. He made his choice ages ago, and there's nothing that makes him regret it now.
His fingers pet through Bucky's hair, as much as they can with the feathers and the braids, his other hand sprawled against Bucky's back, as he settles in to wait it out. ]