thecapitol | my head's under water

Who| Sam Wilson and OPEN + closed threads for Initiate, Bucky, and Porrim
What| finding friends and trying to find his state of mind
Where| In the lobby of the Tribute Tower
When| After Sam’s death in the arena
Warnings/Notes| Discussions of death, violence, nightmares, and PTSD; will update with others if needed! Prompts for closed threads in the comments.

On the way up from where he’d woken up to the district suites, Sam’d noticed the blanket and pillow fort occupying part of the lobby. He’d passed it by then, because he wasn’t quite suited for company yet. He’d practically let Arya kill him, and he knows it, and he’s still not balanced enough to honestly be able to tell if it was because he refused to kill a little girl just to keep himself alive for a little bit longer, or if he was just that messed up at the moment.

Sam needed to get himself sorted, as much as he could, and once he was, he had people he needed to check on.

But a day or so after his return, he’s back down in the lobby, checking it out. He looks around for anyone who might be using it, or who’s nearby, so he can head over to them to ask who’d built it, or if they wouldn’t mind some company.

If he can’t find anyone, he’ll just make himself at home, until someone joins him or asks what he thinks he’s doing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The warmth of Sam's hand is comforting, gives her a distraction from the spinning of her mind. She's reeling, a little bit, this is a lot to take in. But Sam trusts her, and it helps to be sure of that, at least. So she squeezes his hand back.

"Sounds complicated," she admits. "Just...anything I can do, tell me. I want to help." She knows that it won't be easy, of course--she grew up here. She knows how much the government permeates everything. Every detail of their lives. But she's also willing to risk it, if it means finding a better world than this. A world where she doesn't have to watch her friends die over and over and be unable to do a thing about it.

She pauses, and then decides that now is as good a time as any. "Sam...there's something I need to tell you."

He doesn't bother telling her that it's dangerous. She has to know that - probably better than him, she's the one that grew up here. She knows how the Capitol works. But she's willing to take the risk anyway, and hell if that doesn't make Sam respect her more than he already did. He squeezes her hand again, running his thumb over her knuckles.

"I'll keep you informed," he promises. "If we do get a way to contact 13, can I tell them that? There's one guy there I'm pretty sure I trust."

But he pauses at that, frowning a little in concern. "What is it?"

She could get used to this--to his fingers gliding over her hand. To him trusting her. Really, to not being the enemy any more. Not that she thinks she's out of the woods by any means--Initiate and Sam might trust her, but she doesn't expect that anyone else will. Still, she nods. "Please do." It feels good just to have an illusion of helpfulness, until then.

Porrim lets out a low sigh, trying to decide the best way to frame this. "It's sort of complicated...Initiate could explain it better than me. But the gist of it is, I'm not the first Porrim Maryam to have existed. There were two others...on Initiate's planet. One older, and then one teenaged." Her expression is a bit quizzical, like she's still trying to work it out herself--which she is. It's the kind of thing you never quite wrap your head around.

Sam nods, smiling at her. “First opportunity, I will.” Along with all of the other things he’s planning on telling Barnes, it’s getting to be quite a list. What he wouldn’t give for easy access to the guy.

He bites his lip, glancing away briefly before he looks back at her. “I already knew that, actually. Initiate told me a little about it, that we’d be lucky to have you on our side.” He risks a little smile. “I already knew that one, too, but I wanted a second opinion.” Because it was a huge risk talking to her like this, and Sam didn’t want to do it on just his own say.

...and because he didn’t want his opinions to be clouded by the fact that he might have been a little bit sweet on her, but he isn’t going to admit that.

Porrim's eyebrows shoot up to disappear into her bangs when Sam admits to having prior knowledge of her...situation. "Really?" She lets out a little laugh. "Damn. I can't even tell my own secrets anymore, can I?"

Still, she lets out a breath she'd been holding in without realizing. "But hey, it works for me." Her hand is still in his, and it's her turn to give his a squeeze. If anyone were watching, this would look like a first date. And she's very aware of that. "I'm glad you decided to trust me, Sam."

His smile turns a little bit sheepish. “Around here? Apparently that’s pretty hard to do. But if it makes you feel any better, that’s all I’ve got. Any other secrets you have, they’re yours to keep unless you want me to know.”

Sam smooths his thumb over her knuckles, letting out a slow exhale. “You’re worth trusting. I’m glad for that, too.”

It's comforting, at least, that her weird alter-identity thing is the only dirt he has on her. Not that she's a woman with a whole lot of secrets; for the most part, she's an open book. "I'll keep that in mind," she replies, watching his thumb pass over her knuckles again.

Slyly, she glances up at him. "Anything else you need to tell me? No deep, dark secrets? Secret clubs you want me to join?" She might be teasing. Maybe just a little bit.

He chuckles, grinning slyly right back at her as he lifts her hand up to press a kiss against her knuckles. "I think the one I'm already asking you to join is probably big enough for tonight."

It's an understatement to say he's concerned about her being involved in the rebellion - not only that, but about being the one to ask her if she's willing to do it, to tell her about 13 and hope she'll get involved.

But they don't have a lot of choice. They need every ally they can get.

The way Sam kisses into her knuckles makes Porrim laugh softly, if only to hide the fact that she's feeling some feelings right now and she needs to maintain her cool.

"You charmer," she croons. "Fair enough." Feeling a little more daring knowing that there aren't any cameras that can catch her, she steps closer, holding Sam's gaze. "Thanks again." Leaning in, she drops a kiss on his cheek--or more accurately, his jaw--before stepping past him. "Shall we admire some more of the art?" she calls over her shoulder, like she's decided it's time to move on to the next gallery.

He's grinning at her, smile somewhere between smug and teasing as he gets ready to say something about how he does try. But then her eyes are on his and she's leaning in, and he has to hold himself very still. She's way too close, and he's kind of afraid that if he leans into her at all, he's not going to be able to resist pulling her closer, tilting his head a little so he can kiss her properly.

It's not like he doesn't know what a terrible idea that'd be. But for a moment, with no cameras and her lips just brushing his skin - he wishes he didn't care. "Damn," he mutters, watching her go for a moment before he catches up with her.

"You're an amazing person, Porrim," he says, quiet and genuine, then picks up his voice with a grin. "Yeah, let's see if there's anything else here worth our time."

Porrim is all too aware that it's a dangerous move, that things between them seem like they're at a precipice between what they should do and what they want. So as much as she's aching to take advantage of the situation, to give herself this one tiny thing that she wants, she's relieved when nothing happens, because it makes it a thousand times easier to stay professional when the cameras are watching.

Still, she smirks at his muttered oath, turning to glance sidelong at him and looping her arm through his. "Do let's," she agrees pleasantly as they venture through the rest of the museum, keeping up the pretense of a friendly visit.

my head's under water

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