He was somewhat surprised, but not displeased, when the other man pressed in closer. By rights, he knew he should protest, or push away. It was unsafe, a bad habit, to allow anyone this close to him without anticipating an attack. Even the scientists kept as much of a distance as they could, clinical and cool as they fixed him back up. Like this, the other man could easily have driven a knife into half a dozen vulnerable spots.

But that...didn't seem likely, and after a second he relaxed. He wasn't sure what sense gave him that impression, but it was a powerful one, and he was happy to comply with it. This was close, and warm in a way that seemed to go above and beyond body temperature.

It was...nice. That was really the only word for it, even if he didn't think it had applied to anything else in his life so far. He certainly couldn't remember anything like this before.

So he settled into the closeness, wrapping an arm around the other man's waist in turn, bringing his other hand up to continue gently carding through his hair. Gentleness, even faint fussing, seemed to come easy, like some previously unacknowledged instinct, where this man was concerned. Normally, he treated everything that was set before him with a professional air and a careful detachment, from people to food. But not this man, and he even reveled in the sense of warmth, just a little.

"Of course we are. We're both weapons, made to serve Hydra."

But that...didn't seem to be what he'd meant.