keepcruising | Open Post for FATWS shitposting

wow and here I was about to drop money on something FOR YOU.

don't worry I'll allow you to sit on it too

and remember you're getting movies, snacks, booze and my delightful company out of it. so think of it as a quality investment

and insults about my body. dick.

I'll meet you there in 30.

[ The store, it turns out, is a small affair. Nothing fancy, and down a few side alleys, not a place to attract any sort of foot traffic. Employing exclusively veterans who need some way to keep busy and giving back to the community, the shop takes donations of used or broken pieces that can still be fixed, refurbishes them and sells them for low prices that are donated towards various charities and programs for veterans, or those left behind.

By the time Bucky arrives, Sam is already there, talking to an older man whittling something by the workshop. His laugh carries, and when he spots Bucky approaching, Sam claps the man on the shoulder and wanders over, easy grin pulling on his lips. ]

You're in luck, grumpy smurf. Barry over there's taking his lunch break, but letting us in. You can frolick to your heart's delight.

[ Bucky's not an idiot. He knows Sam listened and asked for this so Bucky wouldn't have to worry about too many people being around, so when he catches Barry looking over, he waves in thanks. ]

I have never in my life frolicked.

[ He crosses his arms, but then a particularly plush cough catches his attention and yeah he's going to go test that with his perfectly shapely and existent butt, thank you. ]

[ Sam trails alongside Bucky into the store. Bucky knows. Sam knows. Barry knows. And yet like the very manly men they are, no one says a damn thing.

Also because they all have some base line understanding for this shit, and sometimes a basic human decency doesn't need to be called out. It does entitle Sam to a scoff, however. ]

You should see yourself walk. Practically twirling.

[ And yeah, he's gonna drop down onto that couch, too, knee jostling against Bucky's. Sam takes up space, not because he has to but because he can, legs open and arms along the backrest. He doesn't push into Bucky's personal space. But if he pushes along it, who can blame him. ]

What's the verdict?

[ Not a lot of people tend to touch Bucky. He doesn't blame them. Steve had been different, but most of the other people he knows are Steve's friends and he sort of just inherited them. That means they've probably seen what he can do and he doesn't blame them for not wanting to be free about touch with that. Bucky doesn't really want too much touch, either, but a little can be nice.

He likes the way Sam touches. He lets their knees brush, casual and easy, and it means more to Bucky than he can really articulate that Sam trusts him to not snap and try to hurt him when so few people seem to regard him that way once they're aware of what he is. ]

This is a maybe. Definitely worthy of my spectacular ass.

[ Sam tips his head back and barks out a laugh, in part lightly mocking, in part genuinely amused. His hand brushes over Bucky's shoulder when he gets up, shaking his head, mirth in features. ]

C'mon. You never go for the first candidate. Gotta check out all the options.

[ Bucky's a veteran, and Bucky's a whole other type of beast at the same time. More than anything, Sam thinks Bucky's alone. And that's not automatically a bad thing - except when it is. So Sam inserts himself. Doesn't presume to fill all the empty spots Bucky has and might not fully be aware of. Sam's not sure Bucky knows how much it means to be granted that space, much as they both snark at each other. They share grief, and they share some trauma. Sharing space doesn't make up for that.

But it's something. And if Sam can leverage that something to get Bucky to put furniture in his apartment, well, he's not above some dirty tricks to force self-care onto the guy.

He chuckles to himself. ]

Spectacular...

Insult me all you want, but don't lie about how good I look walking away.

[ The words are thrown over his shoulder with just a hint of a smile as he moves to another couch. His taste for these leans to furniture that looks welcoming, maybe a little old-fashioned. If he has to get furniture, he wouldn't mind having an apartment that actually feels like Bucky's home instead of feeling like another temporary place to crash. He can admit there's a part of him that is willing to try. ]

This one's not as good as that one.

I don't know, man, you should reconsider what assets you flaunt.

[ It's funny, how effortless and casual the banter has become between them. There's still tension - they're people with highly heavy personal shit to deal with, and they never exactly got thrown together in circumstances that made them particularly kind to one another.

Still, it's nice to know that he'd be able to call bucky an ugly ass mother fucker while helping him pick out a couch for the two of them to have movie nights on, and somehow it just feels good. ]

This is the kind of couch you make people sit on when you want them to leave real quick. Kinda screams 'I have nice things but only for looking at'.

What makes you think that's not what I'm going for?

[ There's a part of him that can't help being prickly. It's not that he doesn't want Sam around (or anyone else, for that matter, but no one else comes by other than Sam), but he doesn't know if he really has it in him to let people in again.

He remembers taking the cushions off the couch and lying around with Steve. He'll never get that back. You can't replicate a friendship like that and Bucky's not the Bucky he was back then, either. He's not sure what to do with the fact that his closest friends really are Steve's other best friend and his own therapist. ]

Or maybe I want ugly and unwelcoming.

You're ugly and unwelcoming.

[ With a pointed look. Yeah, he went for the immature insult. What are you gonna do about it, cyborg boy? ]

Nah, this ain't it, man. You don't need furniture to curdle some milk. What about that one over there?

[ Unassuming, a little old school, and on second and third glance it looks comfortable. ]

Edited 2021-04-06 04:12 (UTC)

I am not ugly.

[ He tries to look pissed and sort of manages it just because that's how his face is now, but god he's missed having someone just call him stupid and not mean it.

His heart clenches as he thinks about Steve, but this is close enough to have that effect, anyway. ]

We have to test it out, but it's not too bad.

Are too, when you make that face.

[ Which face? Sam fails to mention. It's not true of course, Buck's an attractive man speaking with pure objectivity. Doesn't mean Sam's gonna cop to that truth.

He raises his arm and looks at a non-existent watch on his wrist. ]

Well, no time like the present.

[ And he puts that hand on Bucky's knee, fingers brushing briefly towards the inside of his thigh as Sam pushes himself up and off the couch he's deemed unworthy, to wander over to trial run number three. ]

[ The touch is brief and simple, but it's so much more intimate than Bucky's used to, even in the small touches he does tend to get now and it almost makes his knees week to think about that.

There had been a time he'd touched so freely and his personal bubble had been tiny. It feels like a different life now.

He gathers his thoughts and pushes himself up to follow Sam. ]

Which face? I need to make sure I don't make it around anyone whose opinion counts.

[ As he passes Sam, he shoulder-checks him gently and moves to sit on the new target. ]

The one above your neck.

[ Sam does that thing sometimes where he laughs with his whole body. It's a private thing and not something he has that much cause for, all things considered - especially lately. It comes easy here, in this weird liminal space that only him and Buck occupy together with some old, fixed up furniture. There's a symbolism in here somewhere At any rate, Sam lets himself have the small pleasure of laughing - at himself, at Buck.

He flops down onto the couch, smile still firmly in place, way too close for a moment, leg knocking against Buck's again. ]

Well damn. This one's not look like much, but damned if it's not comfy. And look - look!

[ He scoots away, to the far side of the couch, and then reaches out, puts his hand on Buck's shoulder, feels the hard metal under his jacket sleeve, and lets his hand rest there for a moment. ]

Perfect shoulder punching distance. We're never sitting this way around, just so you know.

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