[ He scans Sam's features for a moment when he ducks his head like that, but it's only a moment later that his face starts to tingle with the effect. Sam's hand feels warm within his own, and he lets out a light huff, teasing: ]
That's a dangerous handshake you've got there. [ More dangerous than the stuff in those bottles. He shakes his head, looking down at their hands clasped together, wondering if the effect is only in his mind or passed from blood to blood somehow (cut to cut, spit for good measure).
An almost awkward pause before his gaze lifts again, a nod at the bottles, and another light snort. ] I better get at least a taste of that stuff.
[ Bridge some of the disconnect between his mouth and his brain. ]
[ There's a low chuckle at Steve's teasing, a flash of a grin and an accompanying swirl of amusement across the mental link. ]
From you, I'm taking that as a compliment. [ It's teasing in return, and he absently smooths his thumb over the back of Steve's hand. It's the good kind of danger, Sam hopes, and even though his ability is dormant, he almost thinks he can still feel it humming in his veins. ]
Hell yeah, this was only so you wouldn't drink me under the table in five minutes.
[ There was probably a moment in there where he should have let go, where his thumb shouldn't still be brushing over Steve's knuckles. But if there was, Sam can't see it - and even now, he's reluctant to give up the warmth of Steve's hand around his. But he does, so he can lean over to grab one of the bottles and offer it out to Steve. ]
[ It doesn't fill the ache of losses from Concordia, but Sam's grin has a warming effect all that reaches deep, more so when it's directed at Steve this way - something Sam's got in common with Angel, and something Steve's not keen enough to make the comparison to. There are still times when he worries whether he leans on Sam's support too much, leading to other nagging doubts about the balance of their friendship. But the bizarre circumstances that led them here no longer overshadow how at ease Steve's gotten to be around Sam. ]
Too bad I left my hollow leg in my other pants. [ He's not exactly a lightweight, but he gives the bottle a vaguely dubious look as he pops it open. ] What is this stuff anyway?
[ Despite that he's transferred some of his intoxication over more than once tonight, Sam's still a pretty healthy level of drunk - not so much that he's tipped into maudlin, but definitely enough that his thoughts are muddled, and not much of anything feels like a concern right now. It's a good place to be, especially after the way that last mission went down on Concordia, and the mess on the ride back.
Right now is probably the most he's been able to relax since arriving back on the station, just being able to sit here and joke around with Steve. And if he's still feeling a little warmth from the way Steve'd smiled at him, well, to be fair, he's feeling a hell of a lot of warmth right now with how much he's had to drink. ]
I think it's some kind of moonshine. I kind of figured Misato might've already been a little too gone to tell me if I asked. [ He leans in closer to his own bottle to frown at it, then shrugs and takes a drink from it. ] Does the job, anyway, but I could sure as hell go for a nice bottle of red wine.
[ A light huff and another grin, this time a little bit sly. ]
I'd settle for a beer and a dog. Mustard and sauerkraut... [ You asked him to come here.
With a deep breath he takes a long drink, swallowing with the back of his arm pressed again his mouth. He's had not-so-finely aged Prohibition era bathtub swill. This stuff isn't about to make him go blind, but it's not fooling around either. ]
[ There's a burst of quiet laughter that turns into a groan as Sam leans over - and then pauses, holding himself mid-lean while he wants patiently for Steve to finish swallowing his drink.
Then Sam shoves him a little. ]
You know, every time you talk about hot dogs I have a massive internal conflict over wanting one real damn bad and also wanting to broaden your horizons.
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That's a dangerous handshake you've got there. [ More dangerous than the stuff in those bottles. He shakes his head, looking down at their hands clasped together, wondering if the effect is only in his mind or passed from blood to blood somehow (cut to cut, spit for good measure).
An almost awkward pause before his gaze lifts again, a nod at the bottles, and another light snort. ] I better get at least a taste of that stuff.
[ Bridge some of the disconnect between his mouth and his brain. ]
no subject
From you, I'm taking that as a compliment. [ It's teasing in return, and he absently smooths his thumb over the back of Steve's hand. It's the good kind of danger, Sam hopes, and even though his ability is dormant, he almost thinks he can still feel it humming in his veins. ]
Hell yeah, this was only so you wouldn't drink me under the table in five minutes.
[ There was probably a moment in there where he should have let go, where his thumb shouldn't still be brushing over Steve's knuckles. But if there was, Sam can't see it - and even now, he's reluctant to give up the warmth of Steve's hand around his. But he does, so he can lean over to grab one of the bottles and offer it out to Steve. ]
no subject
Too bad I left my hollow leg in my other pants. [ He's not exactly a lightweight, but he gives the bottle a vaguely dubious look as he pops it open. ] What is this stuff anyway?
no subject
Right now is probably the most he's been able to relax since arriving back on the station, just being able to sit here and joke around with Steve. And if he's still feeling a little warmth from the way Steve'd smiled at him, well, to be fair, he's feeling a hell of a lot of warmth right now with how much he's had to drink. ]
I think it's some kind of moonshine. I kind of figured Misato might've already been a little too gone to tell me if I asked. [ He leans in closer to his own bottle to frown at it, then shrugs and takes a drink from it. ] Does the job, anyway, but I could sure as hell go for a nice bottle of red wine.
no subject
I'd settle for a beer and a dog. Mustard and sauerkraut... [ You asked him to come here.
With a deep breath he takes a long drink, swallowing with the back of his arm pressed again his mouth. He's had not-so-finely aged Prohibition era bathtub swill. This stuff isn't about to make him go blind, but it's not fooling around either. ]
no subject
Then Sam shoves him a little. ]
You know, every time you talk about hot dogs I have a massive internal conflict over wanting one real damn bad and also wanting to broaden your horizons.