keepcruising | Open Post for FATWS shitposting

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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