middleofsomewhere | [OVERFLOW] Event: Healing Waters

Carpe oscula, indeed. He froze for less than half a second before he was returning the kiss, sliding a strong arm around Dyme with a happy sigh. His other hand went to cup Dyme's cheek gently, as he pulled away from the kiss. "D'you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that?"

There were butterflies in his stomach. Especially when Bucky touched him. He could easily imagine himself snuggled up in Bucky's arms, pulled close. His cheeks warmed.

"No," he replied softly, "I was just really hoping you wanted to kiss me." And that he hadn't been about to make a fool of himself. Or make Bucky uncomfortable. Now that neither of those worst case scenarios had happened, he hardly knew what to do with himself.

Bucky leaned in to kiss him again, sighing into it and letting the contact linger a little longer this time. "I really want to kiss you," he replied warmly. "Over and over again, if you'll let me."

Dyme all but melted against Bucky. This was very different than how he'd originally imagined things going, but he was glad for it. Maybe, just maybe, being kidnapped by a train wasn't the worst thing that could have happened.

Raising a hand to cup the side of Bucky's jaw, fingers brushing against his skin, Dyme nodded, "Uh-huh," and then kissed him again.

He hummed in agreement, returning the kiss and letting out a happy little sigh. It had been a very long time, but it was proving to be more than worth the wait.

When the kiss broke again, he pressed their foreheads together, smiling a little. "That's the best kiss I've had in... I dunno, seventy years," he cracked a grin.

Dyme would've done a double-take if his eyes weren't closed. Instead, he squinted at Bucky suspiciously once he opened them. "Seventy years? Excuse me?" Was it some kind of joke he was missing out on? He felt like he was missing out on something, which was pretty common for him, all things considered.

He laughed softly at that little squint, pulling back enough so they could properly look at each other. "I don't look it, but I'm a hundred years old," he admitted with a cheeky little grin. "I spent a lot of it frozen solid, though."

"What? You're shitting me." Dyme was not, in fact, convinced that he wasn't being fucked with. He knew he could be gullible, and that alone made him wary.

"You're way too hot to have been a Popsicle for any amount of time."

He shook his head, grin fading to a smile. "Nope," he replied with a little shrug. "Same people that made the metal arm decided it was easier to deal with me if I wasn't conscious and able to fight back, so they put me on ice whenever I wasn't... useful." His smile is still there, but only because he's trying not to completely kill the mood.

Dyme leaned back a little. "Jesus," he said softly, dropping his hand away from Bucky's cheek to his shoulder. "I'm sorry." He wasn't going to pry and ask anything more; this alone was bad enough. Then again, he wasn't the one who'd brought it up; Bucky had.

His cheeks flushed, giving his head a little shake. "Me, too. I... forgot that not everyone knows here," he admitted sheepishly. "But it's in the past, right? So..." so they didn't have to focus on it. They could move on.

"Are you used to it being common knowledge?" That was a weird thing to expect, if it was true.

He nodded, kissing Bucky on the cheek. "Soooo..." he hesitated for a moment. "Did you, uh, want to d...ate?"

"Yeah, it was... complicated, but a lot of information about me got dumped onto the internet, and it was big news for a long time," he admitted. "I should probably tell you the whole thing, but it's a pretty sad story, honestly."

The question, though, has him grinning. "Nah. I kissed you because I wanna get rid of you," he shook his head a little. "I don't know what kind of dates you can have in a tin box, but I'd like to find out."

"Oh...that sounds kind of shitty." As in, a lot shitty. Of course, he didn't know what kind of information they were talking about, but any leak of personal information sounded bad to him. "You can tell me whatever you're comfortable with, when you're comfortable with it." He wasn't going to pry, especially not when a lot of this sounded very...troubled.

But then he brightened, and kissed Bucky again, just because he could now. "I don't know either, but I'll figure out something." Maybe a lot of somethings.

He let go of the darker subject for now, because he really didn't want to talk about it -- not now, when they were supposed to be having such a nice moment. So he returned the kiss, and then laughed warmly at the promise. "I'll try to think up something, too. I've only ever been on dates with women before, but it's not too different, right?" He flashed a little grin. "It's a shame there's no boardwalk here. Some salt water taffy and a ride on a ferris wheel might be just the ticket."

"I wouldn't think so," he said. He'd only been on 'proper' dates with women, too, despite having dated guys before. "I like flowers," he continued, "And Italian food, and long walks on the beach." The last one was joking, because he didn't live somewhere with a beach, but he'd been to the beach before.

"Oh man, I've never been to a boardwalk but that sounds really nice." Now he was thinking it was a shame that there wasn't one here.

Was Bucky mentally cataloging all the things Dyme was saying? Absolutely. Flowers. Italian food. Long walks plus beaches. Already, he was starting to concoct something.

He laughed warmly at the boardwalk comment. "Well, we've got a beach... maybe a long walk?" he knew it was meant to be a cliché, but it's not like they were short on time. "Or maybe we should wait until sunset, and draw a heart in the wet sand with our toes. I promise to protect you from the clams."

He laughed. "A walk along the beach at sunset sounds really nice," he said, "But also, why do I need to be protected from the clams?" Did clams bite or something? Clams weren't his area of expertise. Now, dolphins on the other hand...

Bucky laughed too, flashing a little grin. "Because apparently everyone but me thinks they taste bad," he replied with a little shrug. "Have you ever tried 'em?"

Hearing Bucky laugh sent a little thrill up Dyme's spine. Clams, on the other hand, gave him no such feelings. "I'm not sure. I don't think so?" He knew a lot of people liked them, but that was about as close as he'd ever gotten to a clam, as far as he knew.

"Maybe I'll make some chowder with them, then. That's like poking your toe into the shallow end, when it comes to clam flavors. You either love 'em or hate 'em," apparently. He hadn't realized before that clams were such a divisive topic.

He nodded. "Okay. That sounds...nice." He didn't know if he'd enjoy clams or not, but there was only one way to find out. "Chowder's like, a soup thing, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, with potatoes in it, with a creamy base. Manhattan clam chowder isn't real chowder," he added firmly. "I'll make you the good stuff, New England style. Thick and creamy and everything you want on a cold winter's day if you have to head out to the docks," he flashed a grin. "It really stick to your ribs."

He didn't know what or where Manhattan or New England were, but he nodded all the same. "And what we all want when it's cold out is something...rib...sticking..." He actually didn't know what that phrase was supposed to mean. Was it filling? Was that it?

That gets a laugh. "Something that'll keep you going through a long day of hard work," he offers with a grin. "And in this case, something that'll keep you feeling toasty a little longer. Dock work can get damn cold." He hadn't done it himself, but he'd known plenty of men and woman who had.

[OVERFLOW] Event: Healing Waters

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