[If Sam can fool himself, then Bucky can, for now. In the shadow of the alcove, with the noise of the Nest quieted, he can forget about the mission, about everything. He'd meant the act of removing his shirt to be comforting, but now Sam's mirrored him and Bucky can't help but stare, echoing that spark. He remembers the sensation from the hotel bar on the Waypoint, when their knees pressed together.
When Sam leans in closer, Bucky rises up to meet him and their lips clash briefly. He's not ready for Sam to move lower or to see the mass of scars that cover his chest. Most are bright white, but the more sensitive ones radiate from his bad shoulder like jagged, purple sunrays. However, Sam doesn't touch those and Bucky breathes an uneven sigh of relief.
He's never quite sure what he expects with Sam, but he's not ready for his scars to be touched. Not now.]
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When Sam leans in closer, Bucky rises up to meet him and their lips clash briefly. He's not ready for Sam to move lower or to see the mass of scars that cover his chest. Most are bright white, but the more sensitive ones radiate from his bad shoulder like jagged, purple sunrays. However, Sam doesn't touch those and Bucky breathes an uneven sigh of relief.
He's never quite sure what he expects with Sam, but he's not ready for his scars to be touched. Not now.]