[Bucky turns a hair closer to Sam, tucking his stump back behind them where it can't spark or do whatever it did with the mirror. Maybe it's the symbiote, but Bucky doesn't want to think about the Soldier or the symbiote right now. He crosses the rest of the distance between their mouths both as a distraction and the physical desire. He likes hearing Sam laugh, likes seeing him smile, likes a whole bunch of everything Sam is made up of. His eyes are just one of many specific facets he enjoys. Right now, they remind him of the forest lingering just behind the shadows creeping through his head: deep, rich, and full of history.]
no subject
( Guess I am. )