Random jewelry. Mismatched socks. Really tacky combat knives. Spare ammunition.
[ bucky is bemused, his voice warm as he takes his glass back — and, yes, his knuckles brush against hers as he retrieves the drink, and takes another deep swig. it never really does anything for him, doesn't make a dent in that supersoldier metabolism, but he keeps drinking anyway in the hopes of loosening himself up further, unraveling that tight knot of tension in his chest. the one that makes it feel like he's walking on a tightrope, never really knowing what to expect from her — being self-aware of his words and actions, and caring about how what someone thinks of him, for the first time in ages.
attraction has been such a foreign concept for so long, a long-dead and unfamiliar idea. experiencing it again is both good and horrible; a peculiar anxiety so different from the strain of combat in the field. ]
no subject
[ bucky is bemused, his voice warm as he takes his glass back — and, yes, his knuckles brush against hers as he retrieves the drink, and takes another deep swig. it never really does anything for him, doesn't make a dent in that supersoldier metabolism, but he keeps drinking anyway in the hopes of loosening himself up further, unraveling that tight knot of tension in his chest. the one that makes it feel like he's walking on a tightrope, never really knowing what to expect from her — being self-aware of his words and actions, and caring about how what someone thinks of him, for the first time in ages.
attraction has been such a foreign concept for so long, a long-dead and unfamiliar idea. experiencing it again is both good and horrible; a peculiar anxiety so different from the strain of combat in the field. ]