[mission: hyrypia] i am not there; i do not sleep

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72; Hyrypia - The Graze
WHEN: DAY :019 - DAY :020
SUMMARY: Somewhere deep in the void between multiverses, a fresh clutch of Hosts hatches; down on the planet Hyrypia, a Host is laid to rest.
WARNINGS: Mentions of character death, funerary services. Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

STATION 72
DAY :019

NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP and the universe with you in it is suddenly different. --No. That's not right. You're you, the universe is as it's always been, and there's no suddenly about it. It's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or coming up from the darkness of some wine dark sea. Nothing is different and yet everything is.

Here you are, a small miracle of the multiverse: lying in a small, faintly hexagonal chamber with a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. If you were injured during your escape, those injuries have been healed. If you were anxious or frightened or distraught, those feelings have been calmed. There's something peaceful about waking up here - like you belong. That feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But once the tube's disconnected? Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills that peaceful void - fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety. A matching dread. An easy comfort. Maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party happening behind a nearby closed door.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. Maybe it's time for a change? Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone. There are a handful of you here, somehow intimately familiar to each other.

Welcome to Station 72. Beyond this room it's quiet and still, feeling for all the world like a shell for some vast dark thing.

Eventually, a sensation manifests out of the black. It says:


PREPARE YOURSELF
THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD is sound and sensation: a warm shaft of sunlight through smoky glass - a gauzy curtain twitching in some summer breeze. It says or feels like:

( Come meet with me, won't you? )

Where exactly this meeting is supposed to occur isn't immediately clear, but head in the direction that seems correct and eventually Station 72 gets you where you're meant to be: a circular briefing room with tiered seating, empty now, before a woman with a sheet of graying hair and something focused in her expression. It's been some time since she's spoken with a young host - since she's done one of this briefings. Apparently she's feeling something like her usual self. She smiles and it's very warm.

"Welcome to Station 72. Unfortunately, you won't be here long but we'd like to answer as many of your questions as we're able before you leave this place."

[ooc note: please see here for the catch-all briefing thread]


THE STATION
WITH A LITTLE UNDER 24 HOURS before it's time to make the trip to Hyrypia, this is as good an opportunity as you're going to get to familiarize yourself with Station 72 before you leave it. There's plenty to see, but a distinct lack of people to make conversation with. It's lonely and quiet and there's a sensation of dust gathering even where there is none. Maybe studying the briefing files on your databank is the most proactive distraction, but if not? Well there's plenty of places to get lost...

In the simulated morning, a strange archaic ship has arrived on the Hangar. Its very alien pilots unload two heavy trunks, then dole out a series of kits to the new hosts. One of them - the pale female alien who her calls herself Rhan - cheerfully announces, "Get changes and buckle in. I'm afraid we've some grim business ahead of us today. Funerals, you know. But chin up, my darlings. One uncomfortable day and then we'll leave the matter behind us. --Oh, but do be gentle with the others. I suspect they might be tender for a few days yet."

You leave the Station. If you're lucky, you might one day make it back.

HYRYPIA - THE GRAZE
DAY :020

THE FUNERAL PROCESSION
A SHIP DESCENDS from the iron colored sky early in the morning on Day :020. Before it even pierces the planet's atmosphere, its cargo should be obvious to the other Carbauschians: a new batch of Hosts, freshly hatched and just in time for the grim festivities.

The idea is simple: that they are part of a mourning delegation, only here to briefly oversee Lavellan's funerary rites. Luckily (...) there's plenty of comatose Hosts lying in the tents to trade places with the newcomers.

Better get to know your new friends quickly - there's plenty to be brought up to speed on (such as, uh, the recent death of one of the elder Hosts), and likely enough work to be done that the new spare hands are welcome. Or maybe the state of nothing-like-faux mourning is a good excuse for some alone time on a strange new alien planet. You're all so very, very far from home.


BURIAL RITES
THE FUNERAL has been arranged to the Hosts' precise specifications. Each and every single request they've made has been met, carried out by two soft-spoken, contrite Hyrypian servants who had come to them not long after their return from the hunt. Perhaps because the members of the other envoys are unsure whether it's permitted or welcome to attend, the site of the funerary pyre is hardly full to bursting with onlookers. Or maybe the burning of corpses goes against some obscure tradition. Or maybe some of the minor envoys simply don't care much and think the Carbasuchians are best left to their grief alone. Still, while it's hardly the entire encampment in attendance a notable selection of diplomats and their respective entourages and several of their Hyrypian hosts have turned out for the ceremony. It seems the Descendants in particular have turned out in some force, including the very hunter saved by Lavellan's quick thinking.

When the time comes for the rites to proceed, it's left to the Hosts to light the fire and say their farewells to their fallen comrade - the first and hopefully last to be lost in this strange land.


A SOMBER CELEBRATION
ASH SCENT HANGS HEAVY STILL over the encampment. Or maybe that's simply the perception - after all, the breeze still blows in from over the Great Flat. Surely it's just a memory of the smell which lingers, as circumstantial as the mournful note the wind sighs as it cuts across the Graze and into the tangled Finger Maze.

However, matters of the universe don't pause for the tragedy of the loss of an envoy - and there is so much riding on this Pilgrimage. To their credit, the Hyrypians have done all they can to provide for the Carbauschians in their time of grief (including a visit from the Matron Bassita herself, pale and full of sympathy and apologies), and as evening falls what clearly was meant to be a carousing party to celebrate a successful hunt and completion of the Pilgrimage's first stage has been considerably tempered.

The drinks still flow; the food is still plentiful, rich and lavishly spiced - but the music being played is soft and careful and of the hundreds of small technomanced insect lights the drift over the encampment tonight, a considerably portion of them are dedicated to lingering around the charred skeleton of the funeral pyre as a sober acknowledgement of what has come to pass.

Give it a few hours and maybe the mood will lighten slightly. On the other hand, there's nothing like an uncomfortably close tragedy to bring people together - and as Rhan suggests, maybe now's exactly the right time to ask a few pointed questions. Or to get hammered with new friends. Or to take a nice long walk while everyone else is consumed by the muted festivities.

---

((OOC Notes: This log covers the hatch, the arrival of new Hosts on Hyrypia, the funeral of Lavellan and the supremely awkward dinner party meant to wrap the first stage of the Pilgrimage. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find a more detailed overview of the host hatching process HERE and additional setting information about the Station HERE. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information if you're brand new to the game. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Anywhere but here sounds about good to him. He doesn't question it the way he might if he were a little more sober, or if he hadn't been detaching so damn hard since Lavellan's death and having it all come down on him now.

It'd be hard to feel Bucky's anger at him if he wasn't so damn angry with himself at the moment. Now, it fits - they've gotta direct their anger somewhere, and sending it at what killed Lavellan or this damn pilgrimage or the Nest itself or how many people fought Sam when he tried to stop them from taking the symbiote and brain with them like a sideshow attraction -

It's just easier to turn it on Sam himself right now, is all. His fingers lock with Bucky's as he holds onto his hand like a lifeline. ]

His mind trips over itself with what he wants to say, a tangled up mess of sorry and thank you that manages to be both of them and neither - he's sorry for all the things he couldn't do, for the state he's in right now, but he's still so damn grateful to Bucky for not running without him. ]

( Let's go. )

[bracchium]

[Bucky promised, way back on Concordia, while dazed but aware enough of making the most important vow of his life. He promised to try. Again, on the Waypoint, after the robbery, after Bucky expected to die at Sam's hands, he promised to work on himself, to not run off alone. Curling his hand tighter around Sam's, he pulls their linked fingers toward his chest as he traverses the crowd back to his tent, where two bed rolls and supplies are tied into one pack. He doesn't expect Sam to be in a state to carry anything, he just needs Sam to be there, despite the anger unfurling in flares from under his borders.

He has to protect Sam in some way from all of this, as much as he must protect himself. He's running, yes, but running with Sam. They'll likely notice Sam's absence before Bucky's, but that's neither here nor there.

The point is they're leaving. The pyre behind them burns away as Bucky approaches the pack. Mentally, he signals Sam that he needs to loosen his grip just enough to shoulder the pack.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Bucky’d promised, and he’s keeping it.

Sam’d always believed he would, he realizes, always believed that Bucky would try. Bucky is a constant in his life, has been since he got back into things, and it’s probably only because he’s drunk that he ruminates on that, on what he’s told Bucky before - that Bucky always comes back, that Sam can count on him.

Even when he’s not in a state to be able to be there for Bucky the way he should be, the way he wants to be, but it’s - he’s human, he reminds himself.

There’s a part of him that wants to protest, that he’s not so bad off that he can’t pull his own weight - he’d never let himself get so drunk on a mission that he couldn’t protect himself or the others if he needed to, and he was pararescue, damn it, he’s trekked through worse in worse shape - but he doesn’t. Bucky’s trying to take care of him, to protect him even though he’s angry and that - he’s not used to that, it continues to catch him by surprise.

He lets Bucky’s hand go, watches him shoulder the pack before he’s reaching out again. His urge to leave grows, and he’s got no idea if it’s just that he and Bucky are feeding off each other or not but he doesn’t care, right now. He wants to go somewhere he doesn’t have to worry about shielding, about keeping the rest of the Nest out, where he and Bucky can just - be inside each other’s heads for a while.

He’s moving as soon as Bucky’s ready. ]

[bracchium]

[Shouldering the pack takes heartbeats, but for Bucky it's still too long without contact with his broodmate. With everything going on, with the anger and fear twisting his guts, he worries for a moment that Sam has walked away, but then fingers re-tangle in his and the relief chases away some of the static. Not much, but enough that he physically releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

With their belongings, he sets a course for the desert, for a rock formation they passed on the way to the maze. He provides a mental impression of the location, the way the rocks form a natural shelter. With one more glance back at the camp, he sets out with Sam in tow. Tracks he can cover later, as right now they need to get away- he needs to get away.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam squeezes Bucky's hand as soon as he has a hold on it again, tight and lingering - a little bit stronger of a grip than he might normally do, but right now, he kind of figures they both need something to ground them a little.

I'm here, I'm not going anywhere his mind murmurs, sinking into Bucky's and holding on. He picks up the location easily, humming an acknowledgment, and then moves out. It's - it's good, getting away like this, running like this.

There's a reason that Sam'd started going for a run every morning before the sun came up, way back when it was impossible for him to sleep at night, a reason he kept it going. At Bucky's side, with every step he takes - he feels a little bit better.

When they make it to the rock formation, Sam lets go of Bucky's hand only so he can reach for the pack to help set up. ]

[bracchium]

[Mentally, Bucky's both intrigued and surprised to hear that their running seems to provide relief for Sam. He thought Sam hated running or maybe it was just when Bucky ran, when he isolated himself. On Concorida, Sam came to retrieve him and Steve for their safety, after the news of a bombing. After their fight on the Waypoint, Sam sought him out for an entirely different reason, but insisted neither of them go it alone.

They aren't alone and he's not sure either could be alone right now. If Sam had told him no, to stay in the camp, Bucky's sure that, one way or another, he would have found a way to stay. But he doesn't have to stay, neither of them do, to play parts in a terrible play with actors hidden behind masks.

In no time at all, they've come to a stop in the shadow of the formation. Sam releases his fingers and Bucky nudges the pack closer as he takes in a deep breath.

Out here, there's no noise. Out here, he feels like he can breathe again. Out here, shielding isn't necessary. Out here, he can be selfish, he can be angry.

Unpacking supplies drops the two stuffed animals into the sand on accident.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Bucky's right about the isolation. It's a hard line between someone taking space and isolating, between running to get your mind off things and running away to avoid dealing with your problems - more than anything, no one should have to go through any of this alone. Especially not Bucky, with just how damn long he's spent being so utterly alone.

Maybe when Sam's not quite as drunk he'll remember to circle back to running, to suggest them doing it together, invite Bucky along on his morning runs when they're back at the Station. But right now he's focused on the act itself, on the steady pound of his feet as he hits his stride, on the measured, even breaths.

It's - a relief, it's always a relief when he feels that it's not just him, that neither of them could be alone right now. His thoughts may be muddied at the moment, even as they stop to start to unpack, but the relief of being able to be himself out here is clear enough.

The blurry whirlwind in Sam's mind stops when the pair of stuffed animals hits the sand. It catches and holds as he picks them up, remembering when he'd slid them into his own pack as they left the Station and now Bucky doing the same -

It's what he needs to focus, to pull his attention in to right now, and he gently sets them on one of the rocks, out of the sand. ]

( I got you pissed off? ) [ He makes it a question, instead of a statement, even though he can feel that Bucky's angry at him without needing confirmation. And it's not like that's exactly news, they kind of have a history of getting each other all pissed off, it's just right now he doesn't know why.

Sometime to do with him being drunk, he thinks, but he'll wait before he starts going anywhere with that. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky is about to reach down for the animals himself when Sam moves faster, so he pulls his hand back to return to unpacking. He lays out their bed rolls in the shadow of the rocky alcove and settles their packs in the deeper sections of the rocks. Sam's not wrong about one of the sources of Bucky's anger, but it's hardly fair to place all the blame at Sam's feet.]

( Not only you. ) [He offers the impression of his conversation with a brunette, how strongly she felt that Lavellan was no longer because his heart stopped beating, how that left his organs up for grabs.

But Bucky knows what it's like to lose physical pieces of himself, as well as mental, and remembering the conversation stirs up nausea that claws at the back of his throat. He had trusted his fellow nestmates to, at the very least, not chop each other up at the first chance. After all, if Lavellan fell victim to them, how would someone less than human- himself- fare?

And Sam is numbed up. Bucky can feel the buzz over the link, hating how disorienting the sensation continues to be.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

( But it's the only one I can do anything about. )

[ His eyes shut slightly at Bucky's impression, and flickers of his own experiences make it out - Shiro angry and betrayed, Damon with shadows under his eyes trying to pretend like this doesn't bother him, Annie drunk and disgusted, Clint skirting the edges with mute horror, just how many people fought Sam when he tried -

He shakes his head, pulling himself from his thoughts. ]

( I hate this fucking mission. )

[ He hates a lot of things right now, but mostly he hates the way Bucky's feeling, hates that there's nothing he can do about what's happened. And he wants - he wants so damn badly to do something about this, to figure out why the hell Bucky's mad at him.

But he knows better than to try that right now. On top of being drunk, Sam's still angry and grieving, and he's not in any kind of state to try to talk through something. So instead he reaches out to take Bucky's hand. ]

( Let's just - ) [ His fingers lace with Bucky's and he tugs a little, trying to get him in closer. ] ( Later, let's just deal with all of that later. We're alone, let's just keep each other safe. )

[bracchium]

[Bucky's half a poked nerve away from telling Sam to not worry. Despite knowing that Sam genuinely cares for him, that Sam is in no way at fault for what happened to Lavellan, Bucky's anger and nausea continue to mix in his gut, needing a vent of some kind. He also remembers how isolating himself and his feelings caused more damage to both of them in the long run, but he's fighting against hardwired instincts to keep quiet.

He's going about tying up their rations with one hand, using one foot to help anchor the knots, when Sam replies, and Bucky hums quietly in agreement. From the beginning, this mission has been nothing but trouble: the sudden briefing, Steve's sleep, wearing disguises, and now Lavellan's death and dissection.

As he finishes the last knot, fingers lace through his and Bucky looks down at Sam. Usually, Bucky's the one who avoids conversation, not Sam. So, an alarm goes off in the back of Bucky's mind even as he steps in closer to Sam.]

( Can you do that? ) [Put off talking until later, he means.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam'd joked with Misato that he was getting too old for this, that he was gonna retire and stay on the Station - she'd laughed at him, called him out on that he wasn't ready for that, that it'd been a while before he could be the retiring type - but this mission makes him consider it.

He'd rather be back on the Station, with Bucky and the others he's come to call something like family.

But this is what they've got right now, and all he wants to do is focus on Bucky and let everything else go away. ]

( I'm not okay right now. ) [ It's hard to form those words, hard to admit it even over the mental link - but he feels like he needs to, like he needs to acknowledge it. ] ( I know better than to try to talk through something like this when I'm not in a good state for it. )

[ His free hand itches to tangle itself in Bucky's hair, but he holds back, swallowing. ] ( If you're too mad, if you don't want - that's fine. But I'm tired, sunshine, and right now it kind of feels like the only thing I can make myself care about doing is holding onto you. )

[bracchium]

[Bucky remembers the countless times that Sam has told him it's okay to not be okay. He remembers all the times they've fought here on the Station, how he himself refuses to talk for days. It's almost normal, in a way, for Bucky to be the one broken and defective while Sam encourages him to talk about his feelings, as if a Soldier born in the dark could ever truly have feelings.

The difference between those occasions and now is too striking to ignore.

Bucky stares for a moment, taking in the fatigue and need emanating over the broodlink. He can't really compartmentalize his anger, but he can let some of it release for now. He imagines his anger as a pair of hawks that take off over the horizon.

As for the here and now, he tugs on Sam's hand to encourage him closer.]

( Be not okay. )

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Honestly, Sam doesn't know what response he was expecting, but it wasn't that. Sam is more than happy trying to get Bucky to believe that it's okay for him to have feelings, that he's a person and just because he's broken doesn't mean he's defective; he likes being able to support him. He likes supporting other people in general, otherwise he wouldn't have been such a damn good peer support.

But he is... consistently still surprised when someone returns that towards him. When Bucky pulls him in closer and tells him to be not okay, Sam -

He tries to shield a little, so he doesn't flood Bucky with emotion. But he's pretty drunk, and right now it's hard to keep back just how damn much Sam loves him. He presses in as close as he can get, free hand settling warm in between Bucky's shoulder blades as he holds on. ]

( I love you. ) [ So much for holding back. Sam huffs out a laugh at himself, stroking absently over Bucky's back. ] ( Sorry. Trying not to overwhelm you. )

[bracchium]

[Sam is clearly not okay and Bucky feels that he's only parroting Sam's usual sentiment, but finds himself met with an overwhelming wash of emotion. This is what Sam needs, Bucky reminds himself, even as that love gets too warm. He wants to help Sam, despite his anger and nausea, and to do that he needs to stay right where he's at, to take in the wash of feelings.

He's deeply uncomfortable, but he carefully curls an arm about Sam's waist in a one-armed hug. Sam loves him, he knows that, and the reverse is true as well, but verbalizing that would take what amounts to an insurmountable degree comfort with expressed emotion.

Instead of saying anything, tactful or not, he nods his head on Sam's shoulders.

Yeah, he knows.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam doesn’t need words, not really. Not with him and Bucky. He can feel it. Always has been able to, at least a little, but especially since they gave up keeping their walls up around each other.

Which means he can feel that Bucky loves him, too, just as much as he can feel that Bucky’s uncomfortable, that he’s pushing through it for Sam. Hell if that doesn’t just make Sam love him more, but - he doesn’t want Bucky to have to keep doing that, not when they came out here to get away.

He doesn’t pull back, either physically or mentally, but he does let go of his emotions a little, take a few deep breaths and let them dim into something a little less consuming.

And he doesn’t use words this time, just opens their connection wider and lets feathers brush through. A wordless question, looking for what Bucky wants here, for what he feels - Sam’s not exactly sure what Bucky’d planned, if anything, once they ran off. But they’re away from the Nest, and Bucky can have anything. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky would never ask Sam to pull back, whether with his emotions or his embrace. Sam is one of the few people in the world who has seen every piece of him and come to love him despite all that, despite being thrown by the jaw, despite being kicked off a building with one wing. For Bucky, some days come more easily, when he can look at Sam--- look at what they've built--- and not feel entirely overwhelmed. However, today is not one of those days. Today is far from his good days and when Sam opens their connection wider, his anger and grief pours into gaps.

There's so much he doesn't want to feel: the sense of betrayal, the disgust, the lingering nausea following the question of when will he be next. What Bucky wants is to hold Sam, out here away from everything, and try to ignore the emotions chewing up his insides. Their bedrolls are all prepared and, so, Bucky gives Sam a little tug toward them, selfish and fully aware of it. He hates this, hates needing anything, but he needs a break.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ It's not a good day for either of them. But that's - that's okay, it doesn't have to be all good days. It's never gonna be all good days, and what matters is them being able to be there on the bad days.

What matters is this.

He lets himself feel everything coming off Bucky, a rush of betrayal and disgust mingling with his own grief and anger, and it's a struggle to let it go, but he... he has Bucky. He has Bucky, and Bucky has him, and fuck it settling into their bed rolls and just holding on sounds like a brilliant plan. Sam moves towards the bedrolls, pausing to strip out of the layers of his disguise - keeping them close by just in case - before he pulls Bucky close again. ]

( Be selfish. It's just you and me here, sunshine, we can both need this. )

[bracchium]

[Bucky barely remembers the disguise until Sam sheds the fabric and he follows suit, albeit in a less organized way. His layers end up dumped unceremoniously into the sand as he pulls Sam in closer. He does need this, he needs to hold Sam and keep him close and safe for the next while. The rocky alcove will provide adequate shelter and shield them from the wind.

He doesn't mind that he's practically falling down to the bedrolls, dragging his broodmate with him.

He needs this. He needs Sam.

He loves Sam and the events of the past twenty-four hours have shaken his core.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam is... definitely not objecting to watching Bucky hurriedly strip off the disguise, dropping the fabric where ever it falls. Or to the way Bucky drags them both down onto the bedrolls, and Sam all but plasters himself against Bucky, arms wrapped around him and hand settling at the small of his back.

Shitty doesn't seem strong enough for how bad the last few days have been, and it's not like being here like this with Bucky is going to make anything better - except it is, at least for right now. He wants - he wants so many things, honestly, but he pulls back from all of them, lets himself focus on right Bucky. With how many of the things he wants are centered around Bucky anyway, it's pretty damn easy to let himself get lost in them.

Bucky needs him. Bucky needing anything is a hell of a huge step, but the fact that it's him - it's a little overwhelming, but Sam's selfish, too, and he wants. He wants to give Bucky what he needs, wants to try to make him feel safe, just for a little while, he wants Bucky.

His hand strokes up Bucky's back and down again, half for comfort and half because he needs the skin to skin contact. ]

( I'm here, I've got you. )

[bracchium]

[Bucky curls around Sam in an instant, arm wrapped about Sam and pulling him close. He doesn't want to think any more about the conversations he's had tonight, or the worry that Sam might be next. Out here, away from it all, he can fool himself into thinking none of it exists. Out here, all that exists is him and Sam.

If Sam needs skin to skin contact, Bucky won't stop him. In fact, Bucky is pulling off his shirt before he realizes what he's doing. That, too, goes into the pile of fabric before he re-centers himself around Sam here and alive.

Alive. Heart beating. Skull intact.

Alive.

Sam's got him and he's got Sam. That's all he needs.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ They're both fooling themselves, probably, but Sam doesn't give a damn right now. He's got Bucky, and they're far enough away that most of the Nest is quiet, and he can only feel those he has a stronger connection with enough to be comforted - just in case - and he can let go.

Do what he's always telling people to, maybe make himself not hypocritical, be what Bucky needs and give himself what he wants.

They're alive, they're here, they're together, and - and Bucky's taking off his shirt, and there's no way he could hide the little thrill of attraction that he feels there. He tugs off his own shirt without even thinking about it, letting it fall to the side.

He leans in until he can press his forehead against Bucky's, reassured by the solid weight, and kisses him with just the barest brush of his lips against Bucky's. And he means to keep it brief like that, to stop there, but...

But Bucky's in his arms, warm and alive and with a whole lot of bare skin, and Sam just wants to touch, wants more contact. He presses a kiss to Bucky's jaw, to his good shoulder, his collarbone - over his heart, and he lingers there, feeling it beat under his lips. ]

[bracchium]

[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.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam's own torso is a hell of a lot smoother, save for a faint scar here and there from an errant knife or bullet, and the knot of burn scarring on his lower back from earlier versions of his wings. He's too caught up in instinct, in pressing in closer to Bucky, to really register Bucky staring at him, though he sure as hell feels the way that spark echoes.

There's a murmur in the back of his head that he's not thinking clearly enough to say out loud, an echo of you're fucking beautiful because it's Bucky, and Sam'd known he was doomed to find just about everything about the guy really damn attractive from the day Bucky made eye contact and smirked at him and Sam felt his breath catch.

Then his mind catches up with him, and Sam tilts his head back enough to smile at Bucky, slow and playful. ]

( Yeah, I know. Hard to handle all this looking good at once. )

[ He can feel where Bucky's not ready for him to go yet, and no matter how much he might want to explore all of Bucky, he holds back. Instead his hand strokes up Bucky's good side, palm warm and fingers spreading gently to rest over his ribcage. There's a curl of warmth to his side of the link, an invitation for Bucky to touch as much as he wants - hell, to do whatever he wants, even if that's 'pull back and take some time to get adjusted.'

Sam may like flustering Bucky, but he doesn't want to overwhelm him in a bad way. ]

( Take as long as you need, Bucky, we got no where else we need to be right now. )

[bracchium]

[Bucky doesn't know what to say in response, to either Sam's playfulness or patience. He leans back to allow Sam to stroke up his good side, away from the jagged teeth that mar his other side. Even with that spark, even with Sam's gentle touch, Bucky's unsure of what he really wants, other than to hold Sam in close and make sure no one touches him. So, he quietly curls his arm around Sam and tries to tug him in close. Just be here. Just be here with me.

Nothing else needs to happen and Bucky's not comfortable with anything else either.

And with that comes the usual spike of guilt. He can't be what Sam wants all the time, can't seem to figure out the best timing for anything.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ He follows when Bucky tugs him closer, lets one arm wrap around Bucky and the other rest between them, hand on Bucky's chest as he breathes.

Just be here, Sam can do that. He strokes a hand soothingly over Bucky's back, no intent, just - he's not sure if he's giving reassurance or seeking it, maybe both.

He's always figured that Bucky's not ready for anything else, that he doesn't want anything else - that he may never want anything else. Having it confirmed - it doesn't matter, and Sam'd feel guilty at making Bucky feel uncomfortable, but there's already one of them spiking guilt.

Instead he breathes, slow and even, in to the count of seven and out to the count of eleven. ]

( I don't care. All of that, any of that, it'd just be bonus, Bucky, I don't need - ) [ Sam pauses to collect his thoughts, to try to make his mind make some kind of sense here. ] ( It doesn't matter. You matter. )