[ some tension he didn't realize he'd been holding bleeds out of him at the reassurance, and he turns his hand a moment later beneath steve's own, cold vibranium fingers curling carefully around steve's. he can't really feel anything with this hand, but there's enough sensory input that it's almost like feeling. he knows exactly how carefully to hold, how much pressure to use, and the rest is rusty, unreliable memory. steve's hands had usually been chilly back then, callused at the tips from his pencils, scraped up from the fights he'd get into.

if he didn't get the serum.. they wouldn't have let him go to europe, would they? unless he'd found another way. peggy had always been sweet on him, hadn't she? it's fuzzy, but he's pretty sure he remembers a red dress, eyes only for steve. ]

Good, [ he says after a moment, a little hoarsely, and squeezes the thin fingers in his gratefully. ] .. What about you, though? How'd you know about the-- I can't see you being agreeable at home waiting for my letters. [ a pause, brows lofting. ] For one thing, you've never been agreeable even once in your whole life, pal.