[ Both hands land on Bucky's shoulders to steady him as the crowd jostles around them. Not an easy task keeping both feet planted on the ground when his friend's wordless greeting permeates his senses in that moment so that he can't tell up from down. There's a lot they hide from each other, or tried to hide from each other, but right now he lets his mind remain open, shields down, reverberating emotions humming along his skin. He lets out a short, breathless laugh, ignoring the crowd pushing at their sides to wrap his arms around Bucky, clapping his back and swallowing hard, riding the elation and letting the touch of fear echo in his chest - a quiet, wordless acknowledgment of the something similar if not shared. A century could have passed in the time that he slept, the same fate as the stranger in the glass coffin, sleeping deep in the Station's belly.
A huff. ]
- glad to be back. [ His voice is more rough than he'd like. ]
no subject
A huff. ]
- glad to be back. [ His voice is more rough than he'd like. ]