[Sheβs about to push off the railing when she feels her phone buzz. Opening her eyes, she reaches for it from her back pocket and pulls it out to see Jemma texting her.]
Iβm in trouble.
[Daisy doesnβt actually sound concerned as she looks up at Bucky with a small smile.
[ Bucky snorts, amused, but he looks a little relieved at her saying they should do it again. ]
Alright. Maybe I'll take it easier on you next time.
[ But that means there is going to be a next time, so there's that. Just sitting on the sands together, without anyone else around, had been... nice. Daisy's easy to talk to; far more than he ever expected, considering how difficult he finds it to get close to people. He can already tell his therapist is probably going to have a goddamn field day with a new name cropping up in his phonebook.
Hands shoved into his threadbare hoodie pockets, he's suddenly unsure how they're supposed to part ways — he's fallen out of the habit of hugs, and doesn't really know where they stand, and what the hell is a normal way to say hello or goodbye to anyone, anyway? With someone like Sam, Bucky tends to just march up to him, launch straight into the conversation, and then awkwardly duck his head and march right out again afterwards.
But once upon a time, eighty years ago, he'd known how to do this. How to turn on the charm, like an old and guttering lightbulb flickering on after years in storage. So he steps a little closer as Daisy straightens up, and he presses a polite, whiskery kiss to her cheek, his jaw rough with stubble. ]
See you then, Daisy.
[ And then he steps away again with a nod, and veers away and settles back into his jog down the boardwalk. Might as well use the rest of the morning, now that he's down here. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Sheβs about to push off the railing when she feels her phone buzz. Opening her eyes, she reaches for it from her back pocket and pulls it out to see Jemma texting her.]
Iβm in trouble.
[Daisy doesnβt actually sound concerned as she looks up at Bucky with a small smile.
Reading over the messages, she groans.]
Iβve got to go.
no subject
no subject
[And normally she wouldnβt be so disappointed. Typing back to Jemma, Daisy pockets her phone and looks up at him.]
We should do this again. Maybe not the running though.
end
Alright. Maybe I'll take it easier on you next time.
[ But that means there is going to be a next time, so there's that. Just sitting on the sands together, without anyone else around, had been... nice. Daisy's easy to talk to; far more than he ever expected, considering how difficult he finds it to get close to people. He can already tell his therapist is probably going to have a goddamn field day with a new name cropping up in his phonebook.
Hands shoved into his threadbare hoodie pockets, he's suddenly unsure how they're supposed to part ways — he's fallen out of the habit of hugs, and doesn't really know where they stand, and what the hell is a normal way to say hello or goodbye to anyone, anyway? With someone like Sam, Bucky tends to just march up to him, launch straight into the conversation, and then awkwardly duck his head and march right out again afterwards.
But once upon a time, eighty years ago, he'd known how to do this. How to turn on the charm, like an old and guttering lightbulb flickering on after years in storage. So he steps a little closer as Daisy straightens up, and he presses a polite, whiskery kiss to her cheek, his jaw rough with stubble. ]
See you then, Daisy.
[ And then he steps away again with a nod, and veers away and settles back into his jog down the boardwalk. Might as well use the rest of the morning, now that he's down here. ]