[ Sam huffs out a laugh, the connection between them sparking bright with amusement, for a moment sharpening from the dull detached cloud that he’s been in to avoid having to process his grief. It’s not quite that he comes to life - but it is, a little, glimmers of sun sweeping back in through the fog. ]

I can’t believe you just Han Solo’d me, man. And you probably don’t even know who that is, so I know that’s just you. I’ll tell you now, though, if we do matching costumes I ain’t wearing a gold bikini. [ His fingers slip through Bucky’s hair, petting just a little bit before he tangles them deeper to scratch over Bucky’s scalp, trying to make eye contact. ] Next time you wonder if you ever help, I want you to think of right now.