[ The things that frustrate him about the empathy bond are shifting. It started out with the idea of letting too much of himself show, with being unable to completely erase the things he didn't want Steve to see as though play acting at being a perfect, positive person. He came around to that lack of control, slowly loosened the reins when it became clear they had some of the same problems. Should have really been obvious, but when you've been through the ringer like he has, it's easy to forget other people aren't perfect either.
That faded out, and what started to replace it is the lack of context that comes with some emotions. It's not telepathy. Parts are obvious — fear, concern, surprise. Parts make less sense to him, and they're establishing sort of an understanding or an etiquette about it: you don't go pulling at threads just because you feel them. There is still a form of privacy allotted, even through something as exposing as this.
His curiosity is equally contextless, and twice a short. A missable flicker that even he dismisses almost instantly.
Walking to Red Wings, PRESERVE, sleeping. Understanding slides in like rainwater. ]
You're right.
[ He drawls, as if Steve even needs the tone to know he's being sardonic. Thank you, empathy bond. ]
Now's exactly the kind of situation where you're supposed to leave your best friend overnight. Maybe go have a beer. Take a nap.
[ Come on, man. If you wouldn't do it to him, don't ask him to do it either.
As far as he's concerned, that's the end of the conversation. Now he can slip back into dutifulness, that familiar mode he wore about half the time back before everything. He doesn't even think about it, about what he's passing through the bond here, his mind's on logistics.
Contemplative. Whatever the feeling's called where making sure someone's taken care of isn't even a question, the question is just how to best do it.
(Concerned, physically aching, his body is tired but there's also a deeper fatigue that's been semi-permanent since goddamn Azzano.)
Steve's gonna need food. Bucky'd like to re-seal the doors and maybe cover up the glass just to prevent anyone from wandering by and accidentally getting a look in. Cobbling together grand ideas about putting down an easy target. Maybe he'll do that one first.
Doesn't hurt to go ahead and ask, though: ]
If I pick up food, are you leaning more toward canned tuna and mice or a virgin sacrifice?
no subject
That faded out, and what started to replace it is the lack of context that comes with some emotions. It's not telepathy. Parts are obvious — fear, concern, surprise. Parts make less sense to him, and they're establishing sort of an understanding or an etiquette about it: you don't go pulling at threads just because you feel them. There is still a form of privacy allotted, even through something as exposing as this.
His curiosity is equally contextless, and twice a short. A missable flicker that even he dismisses almost instantly.
Walking to Red Wings, PRESERVE, sleeping. Understanding slides in like rainwater. ]
You're right.
[ He drawls, as if Steve even needs the tone to know he's being sardonic. Thank you, empathy bond. ]
Now's exactly the kind of situation where you're supposed to leave your best friend overnight. Maybe go have a beer. Take a nap.
[ Come on, man. If you wouldn't do it to him, don't ask him to do it either.
As far as he's concerned, that's the end of the conversation. Now he can slip back into dutifulness, that familiar mode he wore about half the time back before everything. He doesn't even think about it, about what he's passing through the bond here, his mind's on logistics.
Contemplative.
Whatever the feeling's called where making sure someone's taken care of isn't even a question, the question is just how to best do it.
(Concerned, physically aching, his body is tired but there's also a deeper fatigue that's been semi-permanent since goddamn Azzano.)
Steve's gonna need food. Bucky'd like to re-seal the doors and maybe cover up the glass just to prevent anyone from wandering by and accidentally getting a look in. Cobbling together grand ideas about putting down an easy target. Maybe he'll do that one first.
Doesn't hurt to go ahead and ask, though: ]
If I pick up food, are you leaning more toward canned tuna and mice or a virgin sacrifice?