Coungar's hand presses against his forehead, and Tim attempts to jerk back from the touch, startled and still on edge, but there's not enough room for it. Not with how the other man has perched himself on Tim's back, leaving very little wiggle room. He turns his face away anyway, though, feeling a bit like a child now and disliking it immensely. He remembers when he was growing up, how his mother would kiss his forehead to check his temperature, and he's grateful that, at the very least, this isn't that.

The other soldier eases back, and Tim feels less like he's being crushed and suffocated. For someone so small and light, Cougar's applied a hell of a lot of pressure. He wouldn't be surprised if he wound up with knee-shaped bruises on his back.

"Not gonna make any promises," Tim deadpans, exhaling sharply again. "But I definitely will if you don't get off of me soon."