Thanks. I mean, I swear it is, but I'm realising it's kind of like riding a bike.
[ Barnes had, once upon a time, been a ladies' man. The dashing flirtatious skirt-chaser of a sergeant, with a friendly wink and a smile for pretty much anyone. That particular version of him is long-gone, buried and dead — but sometimes echoes of it stir back up and he can almost remember what it was like, like some ancient muscle-memory in his fingertips. A moment too late, though, he realises what that sounded like. ]
Not that... you're... the bike.
[ He winces, his nose scrunching, and he leans his face against Daisy's shoulder instead. ]
[And while he’s probably regretting everything he just said, Daisy is giggling. He makes her laugh, a lot. Even if at times it’s at his own expense. She hasn’t felt this at ease with someone in a long time, and he makes it easy for her to forget how messed up her life is.]
I think it’s cute.
[Daisy looks down at the side of his face since it’s mostly hidden.]
You’re making me feel less like inept with it comes to romance-y stuff, so, there’s that.
[Her smile only grows when she basically calls him an idiot.]
[ He rolls his eyes in return, but she can see him biting back another smile. ]
Oh, great. So you just keep me around because my total ineptitude makes you feel better.
[ Bucky hasn't been good at humour or playfulness lately (beyond the occasional petty mockery between him and Sam), but Daisy makes it easier; makes it feel like she's excavating a long-forgotten side of him, stoking it back to life. Which is why what comes next is so lightheartedly, childishly silly. He really should be more careful about staying still and resting and not risking jostling the gauze on his abdomen, but he wriggles his right hand anyway and pokes her gently in the ribs, a jabbing tickle in revenge. ]
She is so cruel to feeble senior citizens who can't control what they say.
[Letting out a squeal, Daisy brings her elbow down to try and block him from continuing to tickle her side. There isn’t much room for her to be able to back away from him, but she does try to wriggle away from him.]
Wait.
[She makes herself look like she’s about to ask a serious question, even going as far as to act like she’s mulling it over.]
Does dating you mean I get to take advantage of your senior discount at McDonalds?
Please. You say that as if they even let me use it. And it's not really much of a discount anyway, it's insane how much a cup of coffee costs these days—
[ Somehow, thanks to her always prodding at it, Bucky's age has become less something he's sore about and more something he can laugh over; and he can let himself settle into that crotchety 'back in my day...' mentality without being self-conscious about it. It's comfortable, and it's almost terrifying how comfortable it is. It's been months since he lost his last main tether to this world, to other people.
It would be so easy to lean in and get lost in her again, get carried away and see where that particular road led — he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking about it — but they're in a small bunk in what equates to a semi-public dormitory, and someone's already checked in on them once. Probably there's a line. Probably they shouldn't cross it.
(As much as, he's realising, he would like to.)
He stops tickling her, but he does flop back against the pillow at the head of the bed, and nudges Daisy's knee with his. Tries to consider what he wants to say, and in the end he can't express all of it, but he does settle for: ]
[Daisy has so many questions she'd love to ask him about what it was like growing up in his time, but she's not sure if it would just make him sad or not. She's definitely thinking along the same lines as him, but her head is increasingly hurting and one or both of them might end up accidentally hurting the other. She'd rather that not be how their first time goes.]
Dragging you? I'm pretty sure you went willingly.
[Daisy teases, grabbing some of the popcorn that didn't manage to spill out of the bowl and flopping down on the bed next to him. She really doesn't want to be lame and go to sleep, but, it's been A Day. Her smile fades a little as she turns her head to look at him, it's clear she had been scared about what could've happened if they hadn't been on the phone when it all went down. Frowning, Daisy looks down at his hand and laces her fingers through his. Giving it a small squeeze as she locks eyes with him again.]
I'm just glad you're okay.
[It scares her how much she already cares for him. It's never ended well for her, caring for someone.]
[ 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. ]
[He shouldn’t have to still be dealing with HYDRA after all of these years, and she’s very tempted to have some words with the people who let this happen. He should be more protected than this.
Smiling when he offers up his shoulder for her to prop her head on, Daisy would be lying if she said she could stay awake much longer.]
I should probably warn you, I drool.
[She hasn’t slept next to someone in a long time, but somehow this doesn’t feel as weird as much as she imagined it would. Her hair was still damp as she moves to rest her head on his shoulder.]
We’ll watch that movie at some point.
[Daisy mumbles, eyes already closing not even a minute into settling down next to him.]
[ Bucky notices when Daisy falls asleep, her breathing settling into the deep evenness of unconsciousness, while he stays awake and still half-watching the movie. He thumbs the sound even lower on the remote, lets it lull her off, and he watches for a bit longer before he finally dozes off too.
He hadn't exactly meant to spend the night here, but it's hard to get off the Bus; he's exhausted just at the idea of wandering down the halls and finding someone who looked authoritative and awkwardly asking, So hey, can you put me down somewhere in Manhattan? So instead, he's just accepted that he's here for the evening.
He's worried about waking her up in the middle of the night with his nightmares, but something about having another warm body beside him means that Bucky sleeps— easier. Not perfectly, but easier. There's a moment somewhere around 4am where he stirs, his face buried in Daisy's hair, the room dark, the screen having put itself to sleep; there's the unwelcome jolt of finding himself in an unfamiliar place, his heart thudding sharply in his chest, before he takes a deep breath and manages to make himself calm down again. As far as restless nights go, this is actually one of his better ones.
Back to sleep, then, only to wake up at dawn a couple hours later. They're both sprawled on top of the covers, still dressed in their clothes, and he feels slightly grimy and rumpled, but it's at least warm and comfortable. There's still that background hum around them. Maybe living on a plane isn't the worst thing ever.
Daisy is stirring, and somewhere in the night he had flipped over onto his stomach; right arm tangled under the pillow, left arm between them. A wince of self-consciousness. Thank god he hadn't actually slung it over her body; forty pounds would've driven the breath out of her lungs. He withdraws even further, rolling half onto his side. ]
[Daisy had woken up once in the middle of the night to take some advil for her pounding headache, which apparently had done much because she had woken up feeling just as shitty. Inhaling deeply, Daisy whined when the sun hit her eyes, having forgotten to close the blind last night. For a moment, she completely forgot Bucky was even there until her arm hit something hard. Pulling her hand back she opened her eyes only to relax when she saw Bucky only inches from her face.]
Hey.
[She croaked out, running a hand over her face before reaching over to pull down the blind. Flopping back down on the bed, she closed her eyes for what felt like minutes but in reality was maybe a minute before it fully sunk in that Bucky had actually spent the night, in her bed.
Act. Natural.
It's not like anything happened.
Eyes still closed, Daisy shifted so she was on her back, arm resting across her eyes.]
How're you feeling?
[She's not a person before she has coffee, but she's trying.]
[ And he does feel fine, in fact. Bucky actually looks fresher than she does: the cuts and nicks on his skin have healed, and the conspicuous beginning to a bruise that should've worsened today has faded instead. That accelerated healing putting in the work overnight, his body already starting to laboriously piece itself back together while he rested. He won't be regrowing limbs anytime soon, but like how his metabolism is annoyingly sped-up, so is his recovery time.
He's half-burrowed into her spare pillow. Facing her, Bucky finds one last surviving piece of popcorn between them, and he smirks and tosses it out of the bed. There's something so oddly domestic about this whole scene, so there should probably be a riotous panic behind his ribcage at the fact that he'd spent the night with someone for the first time in— ages— but he just feels a kind of queasy happiness instead. Nerves fluttering in his chest, where they haven't taken root in so long. ]
How about you? Sorry if I kicked you in the night or anything.
[She can feel him staring at her, even with her eyes closed and a tiny smile tugs at her lips in spite of herself. She can't remember the last time she spent the night in the same bed with something where nothing happened, but Daisy is honestly glad they hadn't taken it too far last night. As much as she wanted to at the time, it wouldn't have been the best time to do anything else.]
Like I got punched in the head, and that I need coffee.
[Smile growing, Daisy finally moves her arm to look at him tiredly. Squinting in the dimness she can see that scrapes on his face are gone and the confusion sets in on her face.]
You--?
I knew you could heal faster but that's just unfair.
[ That smirk grows into a proper shit-eating grin — his favourite kind, honestly — as Daisy points that out. For a moment, she can see a glimmer of the mouthy soldier he'd once been, all the playful attitude he'd once wielded in comfort around Steve. ]
Told you so.
[ And she's mentioned coffee, and at the thought of it, Bucky realises he could also really do with a cup. He could lie here for a while with her, but that nervous energy needs somewhere to go, and he's usually so sleep-deprived that he needs that kick of caffeine in the morning too.
With a preemptive apology, he reaches an arm across her, and for a moment it looks like he's just going to sprawl his body over hers— but then he keeps going, a hand and a foot pressed into the covers on Daisy's other side, and he uses it to vault himself and roll neatly over her, almost falling out of the bed, but he thankfully catches himself at the last moment. They'd walked past the kitchen on this floor last night, so he remembers where it is, assumes he can probably figure out the coffee machine. He rises to his feet, instinctively rolls his shoulder again, checking the limberness of the arm after the damage it took yesterday. It's fine. ]
[Suppressing a bigger smile when he gets that shit-eating grin on his face, Daisy weakly shoves at her shoulder before looking up at the ceiling. She really should get up, but staying here also seemed like a great idea. At the very least she should grab some more pain reliever if she wanted to get through the day without her head pounding.
She’s about to get up when Bucky is suddenly on top of her, and just as quickly is he off of her before she even has time to fully process it. Daisy wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to bail now that they were awake, after how last night went...
A smile breaks out on her face this time when he offers to get her coffee. She almost tells him not to, but, it would give her a few minutes alone with her thoughts.]
Black, and there should be sugar packets next to the machine if you could bring me three?
[While he’s gone she quickly looks at her phone before tossing it to the end of the bed. Pulling her knees up, Daisy replays what happened last night in there head. Trying to think of anything she might’ve done wrong but coming up blank. Maybe it should feel awkward, but she can’t find any reason for it to be.]
[ It's not the simple glass carafe he's used to, but he finds a complicated-looking coffee machine bolted into place in the kitchen — smart, when it's a plane that might wind up dipping and turning or jolting around during turbulence — and he eventually puzzles through the buttons enough to get some piping hot black coffee out of it and into two SHIELD-branded mugs. Bucky pours in the sugar, stirs the coffee, and then makes his way back, eventually slipping into Daisy's quarters and nudging the door shut again behind him. There was a bottle of painkillers sitting on a shelf right outside (a gift from the doctor, maybe), and so he brings that with him, too.
The man settles down on the edge of Daisy's bed, his weight sinking the mattress beside her, and he gently lobs the painkillers at her, then holds out the hot mug, his metal fingers gripping the edges so he can offer her the handle without minding the burning heat. Bemused: ]
Exactly three sugar packets?
[ He's restless this morning, but there's also a fondness in his gaze when he looks at Daisy, sitting back down on that cramped bed next to her. ]
[He's not gone long, but Daisy is quickly brushing out her unruly hair with her fingers and cleaning up the bed as much as she can. When she hears him approaching she moves to sit back down on the bed, wishing she had her clothes in here so she could switch into something less ridiculous of doughnut printed PJ pants. Her other pajamas were dirty, okay?!
Smiling when he opens the door, Daisy manages to catch the pill bottle from him.]
Thanks.
[Taking out two, she grabs the coffee cup from him and drinks some so she can down the pills. Rolling her eyes fondly when he calls her out for the amount of sugar packets she uses.]
You're telling me you don't get specific with your coffee?
[Despite it being hot, Daisy is so used to burning her tongue that she takes another sip before scooting back on the bed so her back is against the wall. Whether he decides to sit on the edge of the bed, or scoot back with her is up to him. She takes a look at him from over the rim of his coffee mug, now that the window is open she can really see the lack of scrapes bruising on his body.]
So that's it? Overnight your body just repairs itself?
Nope. You saw me down at Coney Island. Black coffee, no frills. [ He blows on said coffee, cooling his down, hands wrapped contemplatively around the mug before he takes a sip. He's still perched on the edge, but after a moment it feels too much like it means he's ready to bolt — one metaphorical foot in, one foot out the door — so he slides back into the bed, his back to the wall and right shoulder against Daisy's. There's no particular script for this kind of sleepover, so he's just. Winging it.
Her question thankfully gives him something to focus on that isn't the warmth of her shoulder and her knee so close to his, though. Ugh. He really isn't used to this. ]
Not everything. It's not like I can, I dunno, regrow missing fingers. It's not a superpowered healing factor or anything.
[ If there were mutants like that out there, they'd successfully stayed off the general public's radar. So far. ]
So it's just the same thing your body does, just... quicker. Like how my metabolism's quicker. Immune system's stronger, cells repair faster, I guess. I haven't caught a cold in... Well, ever since.
[Daisy teases, trying to hide her delight when he moves to sit next to her on the bed by taking another sip of her coffee. Passing a glance at his metal arm again, Daisy looks up at him with an almost guilty expression if he caught her staring at his arm.
There’s still so many questions she has, and she’s sure Fitz-Simmons have even more. Honestly she’s surprised neither of them have come busting in. Maybe Jemma learned her lesson.]
So you’re not a lizard, got it.
[Leaning over the bed to put her mug on the floor for now, Daisy ignores the head rush she gets as she moves up again. Jemma has gotten on her before about drinking more water, but coffee is mostly water anyway.]
Now you’re just bragging.
[Clearly she doesn’t mind with that affection smile on her face.]
Maybe I am, [ Bucky says, with a flash of a grin at her pointing out his bragging. Some more of that pain-in-the-ass humour he mostly tends to wield around people like Sam. But her next comment gives him pause, thinking it over. ]
And nope. I mean, it makes sense that maybe HYDRA wouldn't have gotten the serum mixture right, but it seems like they recreated it fine.
[ Not everybody knew the real circumstances of what had happened to him — his pardon had been vague, trying not to publicly announce the sergeant's HYDRA-conditioned vulnerabilities to the world — but Daisy was SHIELD, so he figured she was already privy to some of the declassified information. He'd worked closely with the organisation's precursor in the form of the SSR, and SHIELD held most of the details on him. ]
Guess I'll never say never, but— it's lasted this long. So it seems pretty permanent.
[Daisy's smile fades when he brings up HYDRA. She can only imagine how awful that must've been for him, hell, it still has to be for him at times. Last night was a prime example of that. Having had her own personal experiences with HYDRA, she wishes they'd just disappear for good, but she just doesn't see that happening.]
I'm sorry.
[For bringing up bad memories, for him having to go through all of that.
Quickly she changes subjects, not wanting to make this conversation depressing as hell.]
I gotta ask. What's with the flip phone? You know it's the 21st century, right?
[And Daisy is a tech nerd, so it pains her to see him with such dated technology.]
[ He leans over, fishes for his phone on the bedside table and then turns it end-over-end in the palm of his hand, bemused. ]
It does what I need it to. I can make calls and text. I can play Snake. The smartphones just seem kinda overwhelming. Like, why do phones have to be smarter than I am?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Barnes had, once upon a time, been a ladies' man. The dashing flirtatious skirt-chaser of a sergeant, with a friendly wink and a smile for pretty much anyone. That particular version of him is long-gone, buried and dead — but sometimes echoes of it stir back up and he can almost remember what it was like, like some ancient muscle-memory in his fingertips. A moment too late, though, he realises what that sounded like. ]
Not that... you're... the bike.
[ He winces, his nose scrunching, and he leans his face against Daisy's shoulder instead. ]
Yeah. See. Foot in mouth.
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I think it’s cute.
[Daisy looks down at the side of his face since it’s mostly hidden.]
You’re making me feel less like inept with it comes to romance-y stuff, so, there’s that.
[Her smile only grows when she basically calls him an idiot.]
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Oh, great. So you just keep me around because my total ineptitude makes you feel better.
[ Bucky hasn't been good at humour or playfulness lately (beyond the occasional petty mockery between him and Sam), but Daisy makes it easier; makes it feel like she's excavating a long-forgotten side of him, stoking it back to life. Which is why what comes next is so lightheartedly, childishly silly. He really should be more careful about staying still and resting and not risking jostling the gauze on his abdomen, but he wriggles his right hand anyway and pokes her gently in the ribs, a jabbing tickle in revenge. ]
She is so cruel to feeble senior citizens who can't control what they say.
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[Letting out a squeal, Daisy brings her elbow down to try and block him from continuing to tickle her side. There isn’t much room for her to be able to back away from him, but she does try to wriggle away from him.]
Wait.
[She makes herself look like she’s about to ask a serious question, even going as far as to act like she’s mulling it over.]
Does dating you mean I get to take advantage of your senior discount at McDonalds?
[She’s a little shit and she knows it.]
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[ Somehow, thanks to her always prodding at it, Bucky's age has become less something he's sore about and more something he can laugh over; and he can let himself settle into that crotchety 'back in my day...' mentality without being self-conscious about it. It's comfortable, and it's almost terrifying how comfortable it is. It's been months since he lost his last main tether to this world, to other people.
It would be so easy to lean in and get lost in her again, get carried away and see where that particular road led — he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking about it — but they're in a small bunk in what equates to a semi-public dormitory, and someone's already checked in on them once. Probably there's a line. Probably they shouldn't cross it.
(As much as, he's realising, he would like to.)
He stops tickling her, but he does flop back against the pillow at the head of the bed, and nudges Daisy's knee with his. Tries to consider what he wants to say, and in the end he can't express all of it, but he does settle for: ]
Thanks for dragging me onto a plane.
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Dragging you? I'm pretty sure you went willingly.
[Daisy teases, grabbing some of the popcorn that didn't manage to spill out of the bowl and flopping down on the bed next to him. She really doesn't want to be lame and go to sleep, but, it's been A Day. Her smile fades a little as she turns her head to look at him, it's clear she had been scared about what could've happened if they hadn't been on the phone when it all went down. Frowning, Daisy looks down at his hand and laces her fingers through his. Giving it a small squeeze as she locks eyes with him again.]
I'm just glad you're okay.
[It scares her how much she already cares for him. It's never ended well for her, caring for someone.]
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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. ]
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[He shouldn’t have to still be dealing with HYDRA after all of these years, and she’s very tempted to have some words with the people who let this happen. He should be more protected than this.
Smiling when he offers up his shoulder for her to prop her head on, Daisy would be lying if she said she could stay awake much longer.]
I should probably warn you, I drool.
[She hasn’t slept next to someone in a long time, but somehow this doesn’t feel as weird as much as she imagined it would. Her hair was still damp as she moves to rest her head on his shoulder.]
We’ll watch that movie at some point.
[Daisy mumbles, eyes already closing not even a minute into settling down next to him.]
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He hadn't exactly meant to spend the night here, but it's hard to get off the Bus; he's exhausted just at the idea of wandering down the halls and finding someone who looked authoritative and awkwardly asking, So hey, can you put me down somewhere in Manhattan? So instead, he's just accepted that he's here for the evening.
He's worried about waking her up in the middle of the night with his nightmares, but something about having another warm body beside him means that Bucky sleeps— easier. Not perfectly, but easier. There's a moment somewhere around 4am where he stirs, his face buried in Daisy's hair, the room dark, the screen having put itself to sleep; there's the unwelcome jolt of finding himself in an unfamiliar place, his heart thudding sharply in his chest, before he takes a deep breath and manages to make himself calm down again. As far as restless nights go, this is actually one of his better ones.
Back to sleep, then, only to wake up at dawn a couple hours later. They're both sprawled on top of the covers, still dressed in their clothes, and he feels slightly grimy and rumpled, but it's at least warm and comfortable. There's still that background hum around them. Maybe living on a plane isn't the worst thing ever.
Daisy is stirring, and somewhere in the night he had flipped over onto his stomach; right arm tangled under the pillow, left arm between them. A wince of self-consciousness. Thank god he hadn't actually slung it over her body; forty pounds would've driven the breath out of her lungs. He withdraws even further, rolling half onto his side. ]
Uh. Good morning.
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Hey.
[She croaked out, running a hand over her face before reaching over to pull down the blind. Flopping back down on the bed, she closed her eyes for what felt like minutes but in reality was maybe a minute before it fully sunk in that Bucky had actually spent the night, in her bed.
Act. Natural.
It's not like anything happened.
Eyes still closed, Daisy shifted so she was on her back, arm resting across her eyes.]
How're you feeling?
[She's not a person before she has coffee, but she's trying.]
no subject
[ And he does feel fine, in fact. Bucky actually looks fresher than she does: the cuts and nicks on his skin have healed, and the conspicuous beginning to a bruise that should've worsened today has faded instead. That accelerated healing putting in the work overnight, his body already starting to laboriously piece itself back together while he rested. He won't be regrowing limbs anytime soon, but like how his metabolism is annoyingly sped-up, so is his recovery time.
He's half-burrowed into her spare pillow. Facing her, Bucky finds one last surviving piece of popcorn between them, and he smirks and tosses it out of the bed. There's something so oddly domestic about this whole scene, so there should probably be a riotous panic behind his ribcage at the fact that he'd spent the night with someone for the first time in— ages— but he just feels a kind of queasy happiness instead. Nerves fluttering in his chest, where they haven't taken root in so long. ]
How about you? Sorry if I kicked you in the night or anything.
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Like I got punched in the head, and that I need coffee.
[Smile growing, Daisy finally moves her arm to look at him tiredly. Squinting in the dimness she can see that scrapes on his face are gone and the confusion sets in on her face.]
You--?
I knew you could heal faster but that's just unfair.
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Told you so.
[ And she's mentioned coffee, and at the thought of it, Bucky realises he could also really do with a cup. He could lie here for a while with her, but that nervous energy needs somewhere to go, and he's usually so sleep-deprived that he needs that kick of caffeine in the morning too.
With a preemptive apology, he reaches an arm across her, and for a moment it looks like he's just going to sprawl his body over hers— but then he keeps going, a hand and a foot pressed into the covers on Daisy's other side, and he uses it to vault himself and roll neatly over her, almost falling out of the bed, but he thankfully catches himself at the last moment. They'd walked past the kitchen on this floor last night, so he remembers where it is, assumes he can probably figure out the coffee machine. He rises to his feet, instinctively rolls his shoulder again, checking the limberness of the arm after the damage it took yesterday. It's fine. ]
How do you take your coffee?
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She’s about to get up when Bucky is suddenly on top of her, and just as quickly is he off of her before she even has time to fully process it. Daisy wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to bail now that they were awake, after how last night went...
A smile breaks out on her face this time when he offers to get her coffee. She almost tells him not to, but, it would give her a few minutes alone with her thoughts.]
Black, and there should be sugar packets next to the machine if you could bring me three?
[While he’s gone she quickly looks at her phone before tossing it to the end of the bed. Pulling her knees up, Daisy replays what happened last night in there head. Trying to think of anything she might’ve done wrong but coming up blank. Maybe it should feel awkward, but she can’t find any reason for it to be.]
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The man settles down on the edge of Daisy's bed, his weight sinking the mattress beside her, and he gently lobs the painkillers at her, then holds out the hot mug, his metal fingers gripping the edges so he can offer her the handle without minding the burning heat. Bemused: ]
Exactly three sugar packets?
[ He's restless this morning, but there's also a fondness in his gaze when he looks at Daisy, sitting back down on that cramped bed next to her. ]
no subject
Smiling when he opens the door, Daisy manages to catch the pill bottle from him.]
Thanks.
[Taking out two, she grabs the coffee cup from him and drinks some so she can down the pills. Rolling her eyes fondly when he calls her out for the amount of sugar packets she uses.]
You're telling me you don't get specific with your coffee?
[Despite it being hot, Daisy is so used to burning her tongue that she takes another sip before scooting back on the bed so her back is against the wall. Whether he decides to sit on the edge of the bed, or scoot back with her is up to him. She takes a look at him from over the rim of his coffee mug, now that the window is open she can really see the lack of scrapes bruising on his body.]
So that's it? Overnight your body just repairs itself?
no subject
Her question thankfully gives him something to focus on that isn't the warmth of her shoulder and her knee so close to his, though. Ugh. He really isn't used to this. ]
Not everything. It's not like I can, I dunno, regrow missing fingers. It's not a superpowered healing factor or anything.
[ If there were mutants like that out there, they'd successfully stayed off the general public's radar.
So far.]So it's just the same thing your body does, just... quicker. Like how my metabolism's quicker. Immune system's stronger, cells repair faster, I guess. I haven't caught a cold in... Well, ever since.
no subject
[Daisy teases, trying to hide her delight when he moves to sit next to her on the bed by taking another sip of her coffee. Passing a glance at his metal arm again, Daisy looks up at him with an almost guilty expression if he caught her staring at his arm.
There’s still so many questions she has, and she’s sure Fitz-Simmons have even more. Honestly she’s surprised neither of them have come busting in. Maybe Jemma learned her lesson.]
So you’re not a lizard, got it.
[Leaning over the bed to put her mug on the floor for now, Daisy ignores the head rush she gets as she moves up again. Jemma has gotten on her before about drinking more water, but coffee is mostly water anyway.]
Now you’re just bragging.
[Clearly she doesn’t mind with that affection smile on her face.]
So it just never goes away? The serum.
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And nope. I mean, it makes sense that maybe HYDRA wouldn't have gotten the serum mixture right, but it seems like they recreated it fine.
[ Not everybody knew the real circumstances of what had happened to him — his pardon had been vague, trying not to publicly announce the sergeant's HYDRA-conditioned vulnerabilities to the world — but Daisy was SHIELD, so he figured she was already privy to some of the declassified information. He'd worked closely with the organisation's precursor in the form of the SSR, and SHIELD held most of the details on him. ]
Guess I'll never say never, but— it's lasted this long. So it seems pretty permanent.
no subject
I'm sorry.
[For bringing up bad memories, for him having to go through all of that.
Quickly she changes subjects, not wanting to make this conversation depressing as hell.]
I gotta ask. What's with the flip phone? You know it's the 21st century, right?
[And Daisy is a tech nerd, so it pains her to see him with such dated technology.]
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[ He leans over, fishes for his phone on the bedside table and then turns it end-over-end in the palm of his hand, bemused. ]
It does what I need it to. I can make calls and text. I can play Snake. The smartphones just seem kinda overwhelming. Like, why do phones have to be smarter than I am?
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[Of course she smiles as she says it, because any chance to dig at his age is fun for her.]
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And what if that's exactly what I am?
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I don’t know, are you? Or are you willing to get with the 21st century and get a phone where we can video chat?
[She won’t admit it but she would love to see his face when they’re not together.]
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You wanna video chat?
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poss a wrap? ❤️