[ He's still half-grinning from their joking around, but when her expression shifts and turns more serious, his own mirrors hers. Daisy just holding his hand — even the human one — somehow feels more intimate and close than her mouth on his, his tongue against hers. Bucky glances down at where their hands are linked; she can feel the callouses on his knuckles from trigger guards, the nicks of ancient scars on his palms and the backs of his hands. His fingers curl carefully around hers. ]

Hey, I would've taken care of it eventually.

[ I had him on the ropes. ]

Anyway. Give your eyes a rest. I like to think I'm a pretty good human pillow.

[ The crook of his shoulder will be comfortable to curl up against, to just settle into that hollow and let herself drift off. Old movies were good for that, too. Just the murmuring of voices fading into a hum, the patter of dialogue, not much by way of loud music or action or explosions to jolt awake again. ]