"It's in DC, right now. That's where I live, anyway." Steve wasn't sure how literally Bucky meant his question, but he decided to answer that way anyhow. "But...it might be better to go to a safehouse for now. Natasha can help us." It gave him a little bit of satisfaction each time he said that small word, that us, that felt so meaningful; him and Bucky, the two of them together, the way it was meant to be. He wondered if Bucky didn't like it, this feeling that they were dependent on one another, now, that neither could live without the other, after he'd been controlled, made helpless and dependent on Hydra for so long. He didn't think it was that way for him, though. He nestled into Steve's arms like it was where he belonged, letting himself be held and comforted, and Steve knew he was right: this was the way they could be made whole. They might have been broken before, but they could heal one another.

Steve's knuckles brushed along the underside of his jaw; he leaned in, touched his lips gently to Bucky's again. He was so drawn to him, helpless, like a moth to flame; everything within Bucky called to him, made him long to be one with him. "I think you're right," he said in a low, rough voice.