[Maybe this really wasn't a good idea. Maybe he should have sought out someone else to deal with this, and spared them both the rapid heart rates. The tightness in his chest and the swirling confusion of what is this? He should have gotten his own mind sorted out, gotten his own feelings down before this.]
[And even with all that apprehension (?), or whatever it is, he's not completely resisting. Because, no matter what It or This ends up working out to be, there's one thing he is, for sure. Contact-starved. For something that isn't aggressive or reserved. Something that goes beyond congratulatory shoulder squeezing, supportive arms around small shoulders.]
[He's a little surprised the sound of his pulse isn't audible. And a little more surprised they're just leaning against each other -- not... something else.]
You're ... really invested in a guy you barely know.
[It comes out a little more hoarse than intended. What is with him.]
[ Honestly, Sam doesn't really know what's happening here, either. Trying to convince Shiro that he really is worth getting help, for himself and not for anyone else, that's where Sam'd been going originally, but he's not really sure how they ended up here.
If Shiro seemed like he was really uncomfortable, Sam'd back off. He's got a small personal bubble with people he likes, Sam knows that about himself even when he's sober, but he still respects other people's. But Shiro doesn't seem like he minds the closeness - Sam kind of get the impression it's the opposite, actually. He feels a little bad for the confusion, but he is glad that Shiro asked him for help, and he lets that trickle over their mental link.
He snaps out of it when Shiro says that, because damn, if Shiro only knew. Sam laughs a little, low and warm, and he shakes his head as he pulls away, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. ]
Yeah. Story of my life, man. 'Sides, I don't know if I'd say I barely know you.
[It's not uncomfortable. If anything it's... too comfortable. Too comfortable and too familiar, and he wonders, distantly, if he didn't just dream this all. If it's not just a hallucination of the parade looped on his head again. And he can't complain...]
[There's that feeling from Sam and it sets that feeling in his chest off again. Something a little too hot. A little too fast. He's trying to breathe in, but it's shaky, and it's not until there's actual distance between them he can feel his pulse start to settle down again.]
[... was he expecting another moment like at the parade?]
No? Brain stuff aside... I don't think we had a whole "hi my name is Shiro I'm from Earth, nice to meet you, Sam" conversation yet.
[ There's nothing wrong with being comfortable, man. Maybe that's what Shiro needs, someone to feel comfortable with, to be okay with being close to. It sounds like a good plan to Sam, really, because honestly at this point he doesn't really know what Shiro's expecting out of him.
Doesn't really know what Sam's expecting, either, but that's just the alcohol. If he was sober, he'd be able to come up with a coherent reply.
Right, that. That's what normal people do to get to know each other, people who aren't Sam. People who don't measure their friendships on the battlefield, in trust and shared experiences and the symptoms of PTSD where the post part is questionable on any given day, seeing as Sam never did manage to keep himself out of the fight for very long.
He's just drunk enough that that's something of a realization, but he not one he wants to be having right now.
Instead he gives a tiny, self deprecating smile. ]
There's more than one way of getting to know someone, you know? [ He rubs the back of his neck. ] I'll let you in on a secret, man, I'm kind of bad at that. Spent a couple of years remembering how to be a person, how to be a normal civilian, but I stuck the landing on a couple of things. This, uh. This is what I've got.
You're doing an all right job, as... far as I can tell.
[This is where he's more at home. Reassuring other people. Supporting other people. Being there for them. That's what he's been doing since he joined the team, and that's probably what he'll keep doing. What feels best.]
[Maybe that's not as healthy as it could be, but oh well. It's better than dwelling on why he'd been ready for a kiss, and not even remotely concerned by the idea.]
Being 'bad' at getting to know people isn't permanent. I mean... I'm almost on the same page.
[Except he's not allowed to be normal, still. Not while the universe is in danger and there's something potentially dangerous grafted onto where his arm used to be.]
[ That's something they both have in common. Sam's gotten used to people supporting him, over the years, but he's out of practice, and it's something he has to forcibly remind himself that he knows is a good thing.
He's going to remember this about Shiro, though. Maybe, when he's a little more sober and can figure out how to word it better, he can work up some way to approach the two of them supporting and being there for each other. Because it's... nice, that reassurance.
Sam gives him a look, because yeah he knows exactly what Shiro's thinking right there. Shiro's said it to him before, that he wasn't allowed to do things like take time for himself. Then he relents, shrugging one shoulder and giving a little smile. Shiro's not wrong. ]
Guess you are. I don't think either of us are ever likely to give up fighting when we're needed. The trick is figuring out how to balance.
[ Even though Sam'd pulled away, he's still pretty close up in Shiro's personal space, and for a long moment, he looks at him. Then he figures what the hell, they might as well both take a stab at something like normal. He holds out a hand, confident in the way only the mildly inebriated can be about spontaneously offering a handshake in the middle of a conversation. ]
Hi, my name is Sam. I'm from Harlem, New York, the United States. It's nice to meet you, man, you wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?
[Sometimes it feels like he'd like to stop. To take a break for five minutes and just breathe. A vacation. But that's not possible. It's not even remotely possible. So he shelves that idea. Even if they won the war... there's always another fight. Always more people to protect.]
[So it's not an option.]
[Balance isn't an option. Maybe someday, it will be, though.]
[And then he's thrown for another loop, with Sam suggesting, of all things, coffee. Like a normal goddamn person. Like they're normal people meeting on the roof of a building. Chatting. He stares for a minute.]
[And slowly holds out his human hand.]
Shiro. I'm from Earth. And uh... yeah. Sure. Why not?
[ This is a bad idea. Sam knows Shiro's type - goddamn does he know Shiro's type - and he's already been trying to get the guy to take care of his mental health issues for his own sake, to accept help and support instead of thinking he can go it alone. To see reaching out as a sign of strength instead of weakness.
Sam already loves too many people who don't know how to put down the fight. Steve who'd fought over and over again just for the chance to go to war, who will never back down as long as there is someone or something he needs to stand up for. Bucky who doesn't know anything but the mission, who doesn't know how to live without expecting the fight to catch up with him because it always does. Clint who's tried so many times to retire, to devote himself to a mission that involves bedtimes and house rules instead of arrows and blood on his hands; just like Sam he comes back every time, and part of Sam wonders when the both of them will accept that being needed in the fight will always come before being needed anywhere else. His three small broodmates, so full of fire and passion and the desire to fight, who've already been through so much that it's hard to call them naive, and yet still Sam has to curb the desire to tell them to get out while they still can.
And Shiro. There's a good chance that Sam's gonna wreck himself over this stupid guy if he keeps going; Sam's self aware enough - and inebriated enough - to know that. To know that this is a bad idea, taking this head on, getting himself more attached to someone who doesn't believe there's anything but the fight - who's going to keep going and keep going and keep putting everyone else before himself until he's got nothing left, until at best he crashes and burns and at worst he's a hollowed out husk, empty and drained. Sam's either gonna have to watch it happen or run himself ragged trying to stop it, and because he already cares, either way it's gonna hurt.
But he already cares. And he's already taken Shiro's hand, given it a warm, friendly shake and then held on while watching Shiro contemplatively, thumb stroking over Shiro's knuckles. Sam's shields are strong enough that the specifics of his thoughts are kept to himself, but there's a sense of importance, a mounting tension that builds, and settles into something warm and comfortable like acceptance when it breaks.
When it does, Sam shakes his head, and gives Shiro's hand a last squeeze before he drops it, shooting him a little smirk. ]
Well, it was either that or tell you to come back to bed with me, and I figured coffee was less awkward.
[He has no idea what's going through Sam's head. None whatsoever. He's still reeling over the idea of being kissed. And the close contact feeling like a drug to his systems. He hasn't been touched like that in longer than he can remember. Hasn't had contact that wasn't violent or casual.]
[To be honest, he'd never realized he'd even wanted it. Until suddenly it was here and present and seeming like it wanted him in return and he doesn't know what to do with it. Because, if he's honest with himself, he'd never considered... this. Wanting that kind of touch from another guy.]
[And finding himself not opposed to it, at all. He doesn't even know if it's intentional or maybe in Sam's Earth that's just what people do and god maybe he should have found time to figure these things out before going to space and-]
[If Sam's thoughts turn to the people around him, Shiro's are internalized. Trying to figure everything out and only succeeding in running in senseless circles. Give him a fight. Give him a problem to solve. A flight path. Something concrete and real and he'd figure it out. Plan it out for the best possible outcome.]
[In this, it feels like he's drowning.]
[A feeling that doesn't abate with the squeeze on his fingers. He's about to say it's fine, say he doesn't mind the offer. And then Sam has to go and say that.]
[ Despite everything that had been swirling around in Sam's head - and is still there, at the back of his mind - there's a steady calmness about him now, one that drifts out between them both.
Sam's no stranger to making questionable life choices or decisions that set him down rocky paths. He's done it his whole damn life, and just because he has the insight to know them when he sees them, well. It hasn't changed it all that much. There's a surety that comes with accepting what he can't change and working to do the best he can moving forward, and that's about where Sam's at right now.
For once, it probably helps that he's not quite sober.
He leans in again, bumping Shiro's shoulder playfully with his own and somehow managing to resist the urge to press a kiss to Shiro's forehead, or to brush his thumb over the flush in Shiro's cheeks. ]
One day you'll get used to it. But all that aside, I probably should get to bed. We can talk more in the morning?
[Right. Bed. That's a thing normal people do when it's late and they've had a long day. It's where he probably should think about going. At some point. And where he knows he won't see until he passes out on top of it.]
[It's good to feel calmer, though. Even if that feeling isn't from himself. He'll take it. But it doesn't do anything to stop him from blushing again. It's the shoulder knock that does it. Normally, it wouldn't bother him at all.]
[But the kiss thing is still at the front of his brain.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sizeofyourbaggage) wrote2016-05-22 03:26 pm
no subject
[Maybe this really wasn't a good idea. Maybe he should have sought out someone else to deal with this, and spared them both the rapid heart rates. The tightness in his chest and the swirling confusion of what is this? He should have gotten his own mind sorted out, gotten his own feelings down before this.]
[And even with all that apprehension (?), or whatever it is, he's not completely resisting. Because, no matter what It or This ends up working out to be, there's one thing he is, for sure. Contact-starved. For something that isn't aggressive or reserved. Something that goes beyond congratulatory shoulder squeezing, supportive arms around small shoulders.]
[He's a little surprised the sound of his pulse isn't audible. And a little more surprised they're just leaning against each other -- not... something else.]
You're ... really invested in a guy you barely know.
[It comes out a little more hoarse than intended. What is with him.]
no subject
If Shiro seemed like he was really uncomfortable, Sam'd back off. He's got a small personal bubble with people he likes, Sam knows that about himself even when he's sober, but he still respects other people's. But Shiro doesn't seem like he minds the closeness - Sam kind of get the impression it's the opposite, actually. He feels a little bad for the confusion, but he is glad that Shiro asked him for help, and he lets that trickle over their mental link.
He snaps out of it when Shiro says that, because damn, if Shiro only knew. Sam laughs a little, low and warm, and he shakes his head as he pulls away, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. ]
Yeah. Story of my life, man. 'Sides, I don't know if I'd say I barely know you.
no subject
[There's that feeling from Sam and it sets that feeling in his chest off again. Something a little too hot. A little too fast. He's trying to breathe in, but it's shaky, and it's not until there's actual distance between them he can feel his pulse start to settle down again.]
[... was he expecting another moment like at the parade?]
No? Brain stuff aside... I don't think we had a whole "hi my name is Shiro I'm from Earth, nice to meet you, Sam" conversation yet.
no subject
Doesn't really know what Sam's expecting, either, but that's just the alcohol. If he was sober, he'd be able to come up with a coherent reply.
Right, that. That's what normal people do to get to know each other, people who aren't Sam. People who don't measure their friendships on the battlefield, in trust and shared experiences and the symptoms of PTSD where the post part is questionable on any given day, seeing as Sam never did manage to keep himself out of the fight for very long.
He's just drunk enough that that's something of a realization, but he not one he wants to be having right now.
Instead he gives a tiny, self deprecating smile. ]
There's more than one way of getting to know someone, you know? [ He rubs the back of his neck. ] I'll let you in on a secret, man, I'm kind of bad at that. Spent a couple of years remembering how to be a person, how to be a normal civilian, but I stuck the landing on a couple of things. This, uh. This is what I've got.
no subject
[This is where he's more at home. Reassuring other people. Supporting other people. Being there for them. That's what he's been doing since he joined the team, and that's probably what he'll keep doing. What feels best.]
[Maybe that's not as healthy as it could be, but oh well. It's better than dwelling on why he'd been ready for a kiss, and not even remotely concerned by the idea.]
Being 'bad' at getting to know people isn't permanent. I mean... I'm almost on the same page.
[Except he's not allowed to be normal, still. Not while the universe is in danger and there's something potentially dangerous grafted onto where his arm used to be.]
no subject
He's going to remember this about Shiro, though. Maybe, when he's a little more sober and can figure out how to word it better, he can work up some way to approach the two of them supporting and being there for each other. Because it's... nice, that reassurance.
Sam gives him a look, because yeah he knows exactly what Shiro's thinking right there. Shiro's said it to him before, that he wasn't allowed to do things like take time for himself. Then he relents, shrugging one shoulder and giving a little smile. Shiro's not wrong. ]
Guess you are. I don't think either of us are ever likely to give up fighting when we're needed. The trick is figuring out how to balance.
[ Even though Sam'd pulled away, he's still pretty close up in Shiro's personal space, and for a long moment, he looks at him. Then he figures what the hell, they might as well both take a stab at something like normal. He holds out a hand, confident in the way only the mildly inebriated can be about spontaneously offering a handshake in the middle of a conversation. ]
Hi, my name is Sam. I'm from Harlem, New York, the United States. It's nice to meet you, man, you wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?
no subject
[Sometimes it feels like he'd like to stop. To take a break for five minutes and just breathe. A vacation. But that's not possible. It's not even remotely possible. So he shelves that idea. Even if they won the war... there's always another fight. Always more people to protect.]
[So it's not an option.]
[Balance isn't an option. Maybe someday, it will be, though.]
[And then he's thrown for another loop, with Sam suggesting, of all things, coffee. Like a normal goddamn person. Like they're normal people meeting on the roof of a building. Chatting. He stares for a minute.]
[And slowly holds out his human hand.]
Shiro. I'm from Earth. And uh... yeah. Sure. Why not?
no subject
[ This is a bad idea. Sam knows Shiro's type - goddamn does he know Shiro's type - and he's already been trying to get the guy to take care of his mental health issues for his own sake, to accept help and support instead of thinking he can go it alone. To see reaching out as a sign of strength instead of weakness.
Sam already loves too many people who don't know how to put down the fight. Steve who'd fought over and over again just for the chance to go to war, who will never back down as long as there is someone or something he needs to stand up for. Bucky who doesn't know anything but the mission, who doesn't know how to live without expecting the fight to catch up with him because it always does. Clint who's tried so many times to retire, to devote himself to a mission that involves bedtimes and house rules instead of arrows and blood on his hands; just like Sam he comes back every time, and part of Sam wonders when the both of them will accept that being needed in the fight will always come before being needed anywhere else. His three small broodmates, so full of fire and passion and the desire to fight, who've already been through so much that it's hard to call them naive, and yet still Sam has to curb the desire to tell them to get out while they still can.
And Shiro. There's a good chance that Sam's gonna wreck himself over this stupid guy if he keeps going; Sam's self aware enough - and inebriated enough - to know that. To know that this is a bad idea, taking this head on, getting himself more attached to someone who doesn't believe there's anything but the fight - who's going to keep going and keep going and keep putting everyone else before himself until he's got nothing left, until at best he crashes and burns and at worst he's a hollowed out husk, empty and drained. Sam's either gonna have to watch it happen or run himself ragged trying to stop it, and because he already cares, either way it's gonna hurt.
But he already cares. And he's already taken Shiro's hand, given it a warm, friendly shake and then held on while watching Shiro contemplatively, thumb stroking over Shiro's knuckles. Sam's shields are strong enough that the specifics of his thoughts are kept to himself, but there's a sense of importance, a mounting tension that builds, and settles into something warm and comfortable like acceptance when it breaks.
When it does, Sam shakes his head, and gives Shiro's hand a last squeeze before he drops it, shooting him a little smirk. ]
Well, it was either that or tell you to come back to bed with me, and I figured coffee was less awkward.
no subject
[To be honest, he'd never realized he'd even wanted it. Until suddenly it was here and present and seeming like it wanted him in return and he doesn't know what to do with it. Because, if he's honest with himself, he'd never considered... this. Wanting that kind of touch from another guy.]
[And finding himself not opposed to it, at all. He doesn't even know if it's intentional or maybe in Sam's Earth that's just what people do and god maybe he should have found time to figure these things out before going to space and-]
[If Sam's thoughts turn to the people around him, Shiro's are internalized. Trying to figure everything out and only succeeding in running in senseless circles. Give him a fight. Give him a problem to solve. A flight path. Something concrete and real and he'd figure it out. Plan it out for the best possible outcome.]
[In this, it feels like he's drowning.]
[A feeling that doesn't abate with the squeeze on his fingers. He's about to say it's fine, say he doesn't mind the offer. And then Sam has to go and say that.]
[If he wasn't bright red before, he sure is now.]
Y... eah.
Way. Way less awkward.
no subject
Sam's no stranger to making questionable life choices or decisions that set him down rocky paths. He's done it his whole damn life, and just because he has the insight to know them when he sees them, well. It hasn't changed it all that much. There's a surety that comes with accepting what he can't change and working to do the best he can moving forward, and that's about where Sam's at right now.
For once, it probably helps that he's not quite sober.
He leans in again, bumping Shiro's shoulder playfully with his own and somehow managing to resist the urge to press a kiss to Shiro's forehead, or to brush his thumb over the flush in Shiro's cheeks. ]
One day you'll get used to it. But all that aside, I probably should get to bed. We can talk more in the morning?
no subject
[It's good to feel calmer, though. Even if that feeling isn't from himself. He'll take it. But it doesn't do anything to stop him from blushing again. It's the shoulder knock that does it. Normally, it wouldn't bother him at all.]
[But the kiss thing is still at the front of his brain.]
Right. That's... yeah. I'll let you go.