He felt Bucky's nod where his head was tucked against his chest, felt his hands slipping under the hem of his shirt and caressing at the small of his back. Steve knew he smelled like sweat and machine oil, about the same as Bucky right now; he knew that his clothes looked worn out and so did he, because he and Sam had spent days searching for Bucky after receiving his subtle messages, but he was taking strength from their nearness now, just as Bucky seemed to be. He felt more relaxed in Steve's arms, lying gentled against him as though this was exactly where he sought to be. The touch of his hands against Steve's bare skin felt comforting, felt right.

"You're right," he admitted with a little smile Bucky couldn't see. "I guess that's always been hard for me. I didn't want to be a...a burden on you, or anyone." Back when he was smaller, Steve means, when he didn't have the strength and abilities he does now, the capability to help others, no matter how much he wanted to. "But this is different, right? You and me, we're--we're alive for each other." Those words rumble soft from his chest, deep and true. He nuzzles at Bucky's hair. "We should get out of here. I want you somewhere I can look after you."