[It'd be all too easy to lose himself in this. Too simple to forget that it's all just cover for a mission. That none of this means anything. But with the freedom to touch, to enjoy those small points of contact that he allows himself, he's beginning to think he's lost sight of the line between what's real or not.
So when he starts to walk Sam backwards, presses his back to the wall, it's muscle memory alone that guides them to the edge of the shower. Closer to the stream of water that serves as a cover. And it's only after the sound registers somewhere in the back of his mind that he finally speaks again.]
You can feel it, right?
[His words are still quiet, another careful whisper. Intimate perhaps, if his follow up had continued in the same strain.]
They're all waiting to see who's gonna make the first move.
[ Sam keeps the eye contact between them while Bucky walks him backwards, lets himself be maneuvered without resistance. They're tucked close together, locked chest to chest, and Sam is trapped between Bucky's frame and the wall. It shouldn't relax him, but it does, a soft exhale and something in his body going a little more pliant with the motion. Bucky might trust Sam more than himself, but Sam in flipside trusts nothing and no one as much as he does Bucky (except when it comes to the matter of Bucky's own safety and self-percetion, of course). This is a high strung situation in which Sam, overall, feels wildly out of his element.
In everything but this, perhaps. It comes naturally, like an extension of where they're at with each other. What's a little pretend marriage between friends, right? The heightened intimacy is unexpectedly nice, truth be told. Sam hadn't realized how much he missed being touched like this, to hold someone and be held, to lean close and whisper sweet nothings, to curls around someone in the dead of night. Their little competition, their ways of pushing each other's buttons, lends itself well to the ruse. Because of course, that's all it is. They're not really flirting. None of this means anything. Bucky would never...
Sam swallows. Those bright blue eyes are impossibly close, and Sam finds himself idly carding his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Bucky's neck. ]
Yeah. Yeah, I can.
[ His voice just as quite, gaze dipping for a moment and then coming back up under long, curling lashes, unable to quite stray from Bucky's massive staring problem. ]
Feels like a tipping point. Like a small nudge is all it would take.
[ The mission. Of course, they're talking about the mission, while standing so close that they're breathing together.
[It shouldn't be so easy. Shouldn't feel so natural to lead the conversation this way. They tease one another, sure. Like to push and pull at each other with with both words and actions. But it's never weighted like this. Never tucked away from prying eyes, under the cover of a relationship that doesn't exist. Never this tense, this close to a breaking point that he never knew existed.
Between the rush of water and the rising steam, the closeness of their bodies and the sentiments hidden beneath their words, it's impossible not to give as good as he gets. Too difficult to turn his back on the opportunities here and get back to business.]
Just gotta work out the right places to push.
[He ends up pressed in close at that, the space between their fronts wiped away as he pins Sam in place with his body. Whether there are cameras in the bathroom or not, he isn't taking any risks here. Isn't giving the ones monitoring them any reason to start doubting their cover story.
(Is willing to use the excuse. A way to stay close without Sam pushing him away...)
It's a step beyond anything they've done in public, and he knows it. Is likely further than he should be pushing it while they're still tucked away in the relative privacy of these four walls. But as long as Sam is willing to play along, he's more than happy to take advantage of the moment.]
Think you can figure out how to get the best response?
[ Sam would like to think he tries. Tries to throw Bucky a small but sharp and pointed glare, one that communites 'what are you doing' with a 'what the hell' implied. It's just that... It's just. Bucky presses close. Pins Sam between himself and the wall, and there's nowhere to hide the way this affects Sam. The way his breath goes a little deeper, the way his pupils widen, the way his muscles relax into it almost on instinct. It'd be different if they were bickering, if they were pretending to trade barbs, if they were still at odds with one another even.
But they're not, and in their game, Bucky gives Sam everything he's been wanting and needing, and the best Sam can do at this point is not let it ruin him completely. Just a game. Just a ruse. Bucky pushes, and Sam doesn't push back, but proverbially lets Bucky overbalance right into him.
The way Sam relaxes to the point where Bucky's closeness is all that's keeping him upright is easily explained away by simply engaging in that ruse, of course. He's not actually yielding to Bucky, just pretending to be a husband gladly yielding to something intimate. The way his fingers tangle fully into Bucky's hair, too. Never let it be said that Sam Wilson doesn't know to give as good as he gets, legs shifting to accommodate for Bucky to take up as much space as he wants, eyes unable to flick away. It's all explained away, except perhaps for how easily it comes to him.
And the silent 'What are you doing' feels more curious and appreciative than laced with the intended sharpness, even to Sam. ]
I'm better at giving responses than getting them. Think that's where you shine.
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no subject
So when he starts to walk Sam backwards, presses his back to the wall, it's muscle memory alone that guides them to the edge of the shower. Closer to the stream of water that serves as a cover. And it's only after the sound registers somewhere in the back of his mind that he finally speaks again.]
You can feel it, right?
[His words are still quiet, another careful whisper. Intimate perhaps, if his follow up had continued in the same strain.]
They're all waiting to see who's gonna make the first move.
no subject
In everything but this, perhaps. It comes naturally, like an extension of where they're at with each other. What's a little pretend marriage between friends, right? The heightened intimacy is unexpectedly nice, truth be told. Sam hadn't realized how much he missed being touched like this, to hold someone and be held, to lean close and whisper sweet nothings, to curls around someone in the dead of night. Their little competition, their ways of pushing each other's buttons, lends itself well to the ruse. Because of course, that's all it is. They're not really flirting. None of this means anything. Bucky would never...
Sam swallows. Those bright blue eyes are impossibly close, and Sam finds himself idly carding his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Bucky's neck. ]
Yeah. Yeah, I can.
[ His voice just as quite, gaze dipping for a moment and then coming back up under long, curling lashes, unable to quite stray from Bucky's massive staring problem. ]
Feels like a tipping point. Like a small nudge is all it would take.
[ The mission. Of course, they're talking about the mission, while standing so close that they're breathing together.
Just the mission. ]
no subject
Between the rush of water and the rising steam, the closeness of their bodies and the sentiments hidden beneath their words, it's impossible not to give as good as he gets. Too difficult to turn his back on the opportunities here and get back to business.]
Just gotta work out the right places to push.
[He ends up pressed in close at that, the space between their fronts wiped away as he pins Sam in place with his body. Whether there are cameras in the bathroom or not, he isn't taking any risks here. Isn't giving the ones monitoring them any reason to start doubting their cover story.
(Is willing to use the excuse. A way to stay close without Sam pushing him away...)
It's a step beyond anything they've done in public, and he knows it. Is likely further than he should be pushing it while they're still tucked away in the relative privacy of these four walls. But as long as Sam is willing to play along, he's more than happy to take advantage of the moment.]
Think you can figure out how to get the best response?
no subject
[ Sam would like to think he tries. Tries to throw Bucky a small but sharp and pointed glare, one that communites 'what are you doing' with a 'what the hell' implied. It's just that... It's just. Bucky presses close. Pins Sam between himself and the wall, and there's nowhere to hide the way this affects Sam. The way his breath goes a little deeper, the way his pupils widen, the way his muscles relax into it almost on instinct. It'd be different if they were bickering, if they were pretending to trade barbs, if they were still at odds with one another even.
But they're not, and in their game, Bucky gives Sam everything he's been wanting and needing, and the best Sam can do at this point is not let it ruin him completely. Just a game. Just a ruse. Bucky pushes, and Sam doesn't push back, but proverbially lets Bucky overbalance right into him.
The way Sam relaxes to the point where Bucky's closeness is all that's keeping him upright is easily explained away by simply engaging in that ruse, of course. He's not actually yielding to Bucky, just pretending to be a husband gladly yielding to something intimate. The way his fingers tangle fully into Bucky's hair, too. Never let it be said that Sam Wilson doesn't know to give as good as he gets, legs shifting to accommodate for Bucky to take up as much space as he wants, eyes unable to flick away. It's all explained away, except perhaps for how easily it comes to him.
And the silent 'What are you doing' feels more curious and appreciative than laced with the intended sharpness, even to Sam. ]
I'm better at giving responses than getting them. Think that's where you shine.